“Crying can be good for you.” She kissed him. “Eat your lunch.”
They took their bread crusts and ran down to the lake, eager to toss them to the ducks. Sadie, the little lady, picked tiny white flowers from the grass while Charlie went frog hunting.
“You should go home, Caro.”
Carolyn hugged her knees close to her chest again and rested her forehead on them. “I don’t think I’d be welcome.”
“Your mother and father would want you back. So would your grandmother.”
“I don’t think so.”
“Take my word for it. They would. They’d want to know you’re alive and safe, especially…” She turned her face away and watched her children. “They didn’t just lose their son that day, Caro. They lost you, too. I can’t even imagine what I’d feel like if I lost one, let alone both my children.”
“They’ll never forgive me.”
Mary faced her. “I’m a mother, and I can tell you no matter what one of my children did, I’d want them to come home. I would run to them and throw my arms around them and kiss them until they cried for mercy!” She gave a soft, broken laugh. “Don’t leave your mother and father wondering if you’re dead or alive. That’s the cruelest kind of torment.”
Carolyn had a hundred excuses not to go home. She didn’t have a way to get there. She’d have to beg for money for bus fare. By the time she had enough, she’d be starving again. In truth, the thought terrified her. What would Mom and Dad say? What would Oma? They’d wish her dead if they knew half of what she’d done.
Mary gathered the containers and put them back in the basket. She suddenly seemed to be in a great hurry. When she stood, Carolyn shifted off the blanket. Mary shook it out and folded it. She called Charlie and Sadie. They came reluctantly. “Do we have to go home?”
“We’re not going home. We’re taking Caro to the bus depot. We’re going to buy her a ticket so she can go home to her family.”
Carolyn gaped at her.
Mary folded the blanket over the basket and picked them up in one hand. Smiling, she held out her other hand to Carolyn and helped her up. The children ran ahead to a van parked on the road.
“Why are you helping me? Why go to all this trouble for a stranger?”
“My husband has been MIA since Tet. I don’t know if he’s alive or dead. I may never know.” She gave Carolyn a tremulous smile, eyes awash with tears. “I can’t bear the thought of someone else going through the suffering I go through every day. Don’t you see, Caro? You’ve been MIA. You’ve been a prisoner of war, too. In your case, it’s just a different kind of war.”
“Not an honorable one. It’s not the same.”
“Oh, Caro. How could any mother or father not want their child back from the dead?” She grasped Carolyn’s hand, squeezing it. “I’ll pray they’re watching for you, and they run to you when they see you coming home. If they don’t, you call me. I’ll come and get you.”
When the depot announced her bus was about to leave, Carolyn rose. Mary and the children walked with her. Carolyn’s heart pounded heavily. Her hands sweated. “You don’t have to stay.”
“I’m not leaving until you’re safely settled on that bus and it’s on its way.” She scribbled her telephone number on a slip of scrap paper and handed it to Carolyn.
When Carolyn found a seat, she saw Mary, Charlie, and Sadie waving at her. She waved back.
14
Carolyn got off the Greyhound bus in Paxtown and ducked into the restroom to wash her face, arms, and hands. She raked trembling fingers through her tangled hair, pulling it back over her shoulders. She didn’t even own a rubber band to secure it in a ponytail. Hoping no one would recognize her, Carolyn hurried out of the bus depot and walked quickly along Main Street with her head down. She felt people stare as she passed. She wanted to run, but knew that would only attract more unwanted attention.
She breathed easier when she reached the end of town. It was a two-mile walk to Happy Valley Road, but she had been walking for weeks. Exhausted, sweaty, she headed for Oma’s cottage. Mom and Dad wouldn’t be home from work yet. There was a car Carolyn didn’t recognize in Oma’s carport, but she didn’t answer when Carolyn knocked.
Carolyn didn’t feel she had any right to go inside without an invitation, not anymore. She went back to the main house and lifted the flowerpot. Mom still kept the key there. She thought about going in, taking a long hot shower, washing her hair, getting something to eat. But what right did she have to go into their house? She put the flowerpot on top of the key and sat by the front door. She was so tired. If her family didn’t want her, where would she go? She awakened sharply when a car came up the gravel driveway. The hedge had grown high, and she couldn’t see whether it was Mom or Dad. Footsteps crunched in the pebbles, soft footsteps. Mom. Carolyn stood slowly, heart pounding.
Her mother came around the corner, looking so familiar and professional in her white uniform and cap. Startled, Mom stopped. She stared at Carolyn and took a step back. Then her eyes went wide. “Carolyn?” Before Carolyn could speak, Mom dropped her purse and flew at her. Carolyn cringed, expecting a blow, but found herself in a fierce embrace. Uttering a sobbing gasp, her mother let go and stepped back. “I didn’t know it was you at first. You’re so… different.”
“When did you get home? How did you get here? Where have you been? What happened? We’ve been-” She stopped abruptly, her eyes sweeping over Carolyn. She raised her hands. “Never mind.” She frowned in confusion. “Why didn’t you go inside? The key…”
Carolyn didn’t know what to say.
“It’s okay.” Mom spoke quickly. She unlocked the door and pushed it open. “Come inside.” She remembered her purse and went back for it. Holding her elbows, Carolyn waited just inside the door. “Come in.” Mom threw her purse on the breakfast counter and started to pull out the bobby pins that held her nurse’s cap in place. She headed for the back of the house. Mom always took a shower immediately after coming home from the hospital.
Mom stopped and wheeled around. She looked scared. “Don’t leave, Carolyn.”
“I won’t.”
“Promise me!”
“I promise.”
Mom let out her breath. “Okay. I’ll only be a few minutes.”
A few minutes might be all her mother needed to change her mind about letting Carolyn into the house. And what then? Carolyn stood in the entry hall and raised her head. She caught her breath at the memorial wall in front of her.
An eleven-by-fourteen picture of Charlie in his dress blues smiled at her. Two small potted palms sat on either side of the elaborate gilt-framed portrait sitting on a shiny black table. The wall above was covered with framed photographs: Charlie as a baby, Charlie as a toddler on his tricycle, Charlie and Mitch standing by their bikes, Charlie and Mitch in their high school football uniforms, Charlie showing off his varsity sweater, Charlie in black cap and gown holding his high school diploma and scholastic award, Charlie in his Trojan football uniform, Charlie looking handsome in Marine greens. The pictures surrounded a glass-encased triangular folded American flag set against black velvet. Below it were several colorful military ribbons, a Bronze Star, and a snapshot of Charlie grinning broadly, arms flung around two Marine buddies, a bunker and palm trees in the background.
Carolyn’s throat closed tight and hot. If she lived a hundred years, she’d never get over losing Charlie.
The foyer felt warm, sunlight shining in from the skylight. She glanced into the living room. Everything looked exactly the same as the day she had left home: curved beige couch and oval birch coffee table in front of the wall fireplace, two recliners with a table, the television set.
“Carolyn?”
She turned slowly, steeling herself for whatever her mother might do next. She’d changed into blue polyester pants and a red, white, and blue polyester blouse. Her mother had every right to scream at her and tell her to go
