Читать книгу Journey Back to Christmas - Leigh Duncan - Страница 5

Chapter One

December, 1945

Her purse meticulously balanced in her lap, Hanna Morse crossed her ankles and pushed down a quiver of anticipation as the heavy curtains pulled away from the movie screen. She aimed a brave smile at the tall brunette sitting beside her, glad she’d let Dottie talk her into coming to the theater tonight. Moping around the house certainly wasn’t doing her any good.

It had been six months since that terrible day when the telegram arrived. Six months, and she still couldn’t make it through the day—or the night—without tears.

But tonight, she’d let Dottie convince her to take in a picture show. While she’d never get over the pain of losing Chet, she needed to escape her grief just for a little while. To laugh, to enjoy life. At least, long enough to watch a movie.

Lights flickered on the screen. Hanna straightened. Dottie had promised the movie was a good one—a comedy starring Frank Sinatra and Gene Kelly. It had been so long since she’d laughed out loud that she’d nearly forgotten what her own laughter sounded like. Looking forward to it, she let herself relax.

But instead of the opening credits, the screen filled with images of soldiers marching through New York City. Unprepared, Hanna tensed as the voice of the newscaster filled the theater.

“New York pays tribute to the American foot soldier. These men were chosen to represent all the ten million soldiers of the United States Army. Gliders fly overhead as the city roars its welcome home to the thirteen thousand veterans who fought from Sicily and Italy through Normandy, Holland and Germany. Four million New Yorkers line the four-and-a-half-mile parade route to greet the men…”

She pressed shaky fingers beneath her eyes, straightened her shoulders, and took a breath. She could do this. She could sit here while the boys—everyone else’s boys—marched beneath the ticker tape thrown from tall buildings while crowds cheered. She could keep a smile on her face while wives and mothers welcomed husbands and sons home from the war. Chet would expect her to do that much. He’d be the first to remind her that others had sacrificed far more than she had. He’d tell her to think about the Sullivan family and all they’d lost. He’d…

But Chet wasn’t here. He wasn’t among those who were coming home.

And she wasn’t that strong.

Abruptly, she stood. Thankful she and Dottie had chosen seats on the aisle, she grabbed her coat and hat and headed for the lobby. As she rushed up the aisle, plush carpet silenced the sound of the black pumps she’d bought especially for this night, her first night out in half a year. The swinging doors opened into a lobby filled with twinkling Christmas lights and bright red ribbons. The decorations announced the happiness of the season. She blinked, struggling against her tears. She thought she had a pretty good chance of winning the battle over her emotions until a whiff of pine from the boughs that hung over the doors and around the window sills reminded her of Chet. The mask of cheery goodwill she did her best to maintain threatened to collapse completely.

Why, oh why, had she agreed to go out with Dottie tonight? She had no business being here. She needed to go home, to lose herself in memories of better times, of better days. Lately, it was the only way she ever got through the long, lonely nights. Even then, she slept in fits and starts. When she did manage to drift off, she dreamed of Chet dying on a field in a foreign country with no one there to comfort him.

Tears stung her eyes in earnest now. Fighting them, she slipped her arms into her coat. She had to leave.

Dottie caught up to her before she made it halfway across the lobby.

She turned to the woman who’d been the best friend a girl could ever ask for during those first, awful days after she’d received the news. “Oh, Dottie,” she said, tugging on her gloves. “I don’t want you to miss out because of me. Go back inside and watch the movie. I’ll be all right. I just…” She sniffled.

“I wouldn’t dream of staying without you.” Sympathy glinted in Dottie’s dark eyes. She overrode Hanna’s protest while she put on her own coat. Together, they hurried toward the exit. “Oh, Hanna, I didn’t know there’d be a newsreel.” Dottie’s breath spiraled into a cloud the instant she stepped from the warmth of the theater onto the sidewalk. Behind her, colorful Christmas lights outlined posters of the coming attractions.

“It’s not your fault.” Hanna stabbed at her tears with gloved fingers that did little more than smear the dampness onto her cheeks, where they froze faster. “Silly me, I… I just, ah…”

“Here.” Always prepared, Dottie handed her an embroidered handkerchief she’d pulled from her purse.

Hanna swallowed a sob. Dottie was so kind. Far kinder than a weak-willed woman like her deserved. What was wrong with her? Why couldn’t she be stronger? Why couldn’t she bury her sorrow and pain? Chet had willingly fought for their country. He was the one who, like so many others, had given his life protecting their freedom while she’d stayed home to watch and wait and support the war effort by buying bonds and saving tin foil. Yet, here she was, in tears again.

Standing in the cold in front of the theater wasn’t going to help her get past this, but a walk might clear her head. Mindful of the beautiful but treacherous ice and snow, she started down the sidewalk toward her car with Dottie—bless her—at her side.

She whispered, “I just miss him.”

“Of course you do,” Dottie agreed.

“Seeing all those soldiers coming home. It just, ah, it breaks me up.” She twisted the handkerchief in her hands.

“Of course it does.” Dottie leaned down, her voice growing fainter when two women passed them headed in the opposite direction on the sidewalk. “He’s your husband.”

“Was,” Hanna corrected. She had to remember that Chet was gone. Otherwise, a fresh wave of grief would wash over her whenever she thought of him.

“Oh, Hanna, honey. He’s still your husband. Nothing changes that.”

If only that were true.

More tears hovered near the surface. Any second now, they’d burst through the protective barriers she’d erected around her heart. She tore her gaze from the rooster tail of slush and snow that trailed the tires of a passing car and cast a pleading glance at the friend who was trying so hard to make her feel better.

“Well, you know what I mean.” Dottie struggled to offer the right words. “He’s still in your heart. You’re always going to be Mrs.—” Hanna’s expression must have finally registered. “Oh, I’m just making it worse, now, aren’t I?”

A muffled sob escaped. The dam broke, and the hot tears ran in rivulets down her cold cheeks.

“Go on and blow.” Offering the same kind of advice she’d give one of their patients, Dottie motioned to the handkerchief. She patted the side of a well-stocked purse. “I’ve got another one in here.”

Though her eyes swam, Hanna smiled. No matter how bad things got, she could always count on Dottie to make her laugh. She’d discovered that the day they’d both begun nursing school. They’d been best friends ever since.

“Oh, look at me blubbering.” Hanna struggled to pull herself together. “And when all our boys are over there doing something heroic.”

“Aw, have a good cry.” Dottie patted her shoulder. “Not all of us are born to change the world.”

“Yes, but nothing ever got solved by blubbering on a sidewalk, either.” That was it, wasn’t it? Now, with Chet gone, what use was she? “I’m lost, Dottie,” she admitted. “I used to know who I was. I was Mrs. Chet Morse, wife.” She sighed. The yellow telegram hadn’t just announced Chet’s death. In a way, it had marked the end of her life, too. “I wasn’t out to change the world. I just wanted to make a happy home for my husband. And now…” She shook her head.

Now, what?

“I don’t have any purpose at all.” There, she’d said it. Without Chet, without a husband to make a home for, without children to raise, what was she supposed to do with the rest of her life?

“Well,” Dottie tilted her head, “you could walk me to the square.”

The suggestion was so surprising that she tsked. “That’s not exactly a purpose.”

“You never know.” Dottie smiled slyly. “Even the smallest stone makes a ripple in the water.”

Hanna glanced at her friend. She didn’t understand what Dottie meant and let her eyebrows bunch. “What stone?”

“It’s a saying,” Dottie answered with a laugh. “C’mon. They’re decorating the gazebo.”

Well, she’d wanted to take a walk, she conceded while Dottie threaded their arms together. Maybe her friend was right. A walk past Henderson’s Hardware and down Main Street to the gazebo might perk her right up. It couldn’t hurt to wander past the Christmas trees the shop owners had erected with such care along the sidewalks. Or to take in all the decorations. Everywhere she looked, greenery tied with bright red ribbons gave windows and storefronts a festive look. The colorful lights against the backdrop of a night sky added such a merry touch that they warmed even her heart. Throughout Central Falls, people were trying so hard to make this a cheerful Christmas homecoming for the soldiers and sailors who’d been away at war.

How could she do any less?

By the time she and Dottie reached the center of town, she’d dried her eyes and banished her tears. She even hummed along when Dottie, hearing the carolers on the square, burst into song. As they approached the gazebo, she squared her shoulders and hid her pain. She refused to dampen the mood of her neighbors who were pitching in to decorate the gathering place at the heart of Central Falls. To prove she’d caught the Christmas spirit, she pulled her camera from her bag and snapped a photo of the women in winter coats and heels who busied themselves untangling strings of lights, while men in suits and hats threaded the strands through hooks attached to the gazebo’s eaves. Spotting a former patient, she stopped to say hello.

“How are you doing, Mr. McGregor?” She watched closely, ready to spring into action, as the older gentleman wearing a bowler hat leaned from a tall ladder to place an ornament on the Christmas tree. Mr. McGregor had taken a bad fall last year and broken his collarbone. She knew it still gave him fits. “How’s your shoulder these days?”

“Ah, you know. The old rheumatism acts up when there’s a storm coming.” Carefully, Mr. McGregor worked his way down the rungs of the ladder. Once he had both feet on the floor of the gazebo again, he rubbed his arm. “And I can tell there’s a doozy coming in tomorrow.”

Hanna nodded. At the hospital this afternoon, she’d overheard sweet old Doc Smithy talking with her favorite patient about a blizzard. “That’s what everyone’s saying.”

Mr. McGregor glanced up as if he could see through the gazebo’s pitched roof. “It’s a shame, too. Cloud cover is going to hide the comet.”

“Oh, darn,” Hanna exclaimed with an unexpected pang of disappointment. “I didn’t think of that. I was looking forward to seeing it.” She shrugged. There were worse things than not seeing a bright light arc across the sky. “But, a big snow storm. It’ll be a good night to nestle in, I guess.”

Or it would be if she had someone to nestle in with.

She shook the thought aside. Maintaining a brave face, she drew in a steadying breath and issued herself a stern reminder to stay cheerful and upbeat.

But Mr. McGregor only pinned her with a concern that saw through her false bravado. “And how are you holding up?”

Heat flooded her cheeks. Her act wasn’t fooling anyone, not if Mr. McGregor’s rheumy eyes could see through it. Determined to try harder to do her part, she mustered a smile. “Oh, now, don’t you go worrying about me.”

“Someone’s got to, Nurse Hanna,” the old man protested. “You’re always taking care of the rest of us.”

Genuine warmth deepened her smile. Though she and Chet had talked about moving to the city, people like Mr. McGregor made her glad they’d decided to settle down in Central Falls.

“You’ll come to the lighting tomorrow evening, right?” he asked.

The tradition had always been one of the season’s highlights. Dressed in their winter finest, practically everyone in town would gather at the square. In the past, she’d enjoyed watching the children, so eager with anticipation that their eyes sparkled while their little feet danced in the snow. There would be caroling and hot chocolate. Some of the younger boys might even have a snowball fight. How could she miss that? Suddenly her plan to spend another evening all alone didn’t seem like such a good one. “Oh, I suppose so,” she agreed. “I always like seeing the whole town come out for it.”

Mr. McGregor studied the gray skies overhead. “Let’s just hope the snow holds off.”

The words “yes, let’s” were on the tip of her tongue. Before she had a chance to say them, though, Dottie rushed over, holding the enormous silver star that would soon grace the top of the gazebo. Holding it up to her face, the brunette struck a silly pose. Hanna had just enough time to snap a picture before they both laughed.

Coming here was a good thing, she decided as she watched her friend act the clown. After all, they said laughter was the best medicine, and Dottie had given them all a healthy dose of it.