Morning Glory

'Shh.'

'But you’re a father now. How could they take a father with a brand-new baby and two others to see after?'

'I’m thirty. I’m registered. The draft law says twenty-one to thirty-five.'

'Maybe they won’t call you up.'

'We’ll worry about it when the time comes.'

Minutes later, when they’d lain clutching hands in the silence, he told her, 'I’m gonna get that generator goin’ for you, and fix up a refrigerator and an electric washer and make sure everything’s in perfect shape around the place.'

She gripped his hand and rolled her face against his arm. 'No, Will… no.'

At one in the morning, when Lizzy woke up hungry, Will asked Elly to leave the lamp on. In the pale amber lantern glow he lay on his side and watched her nurse the baby, watched the small white fists push the blue-tinged breast, watched the pocket-gopher cheeks bulge and flatten as they drew sustenance, watched Elly’s fingers shape a stand-up curl on Lizzy’s delicate head.

He thought of all he had to live for. All he had to fight for. It was only a matter of making Elly and the kids secure before he left.

The radio was never off after that. Day by day they heard of an unprepared America at war. In Washington, D.C., soldiers took up posts at key government centers, wearing World War I helmets and carrying ancient Springfield rifles, while on December eighth Japanese bombers struck two U.S. airfields in the Philippines and on the tenth Japanese forces began to land on Luzon.

At first it all seemed remote to Elly, but Will brought the newspapers home from the library and studied the Japanese movement on tiny maps which brought the war closer. He worked in the town hall where recruiters were already posted twelve hours a day. Billboards out front and in the vestibule entreated, DEFEND YOUR COUNTRY- ENLIST NOW-U.S. ARMY. Across America it continued. The outrage. The bristling. The growing American frenzy to 'join up.'

Will found himself in a frenzy of his own-to get things done.

He finished the wind generator and hooked it to the radio because their batteries were nearly worn out and new ones unobtainable. Since the wind generator wouldn’t create enough electricity to power larger appliances, he installed a gasoline-driven motor on an old hand-operated agitator washing machine and fashioned a homemade water heater fueled by kerosene. It stood beside the tub like a gangly monster with a drooping snout. The day he filled the bathtub for the first time they celebrated. The boys took the first baths, followed by Elly and finally by Will himself. But there was no denying that the elation they’d expected upon using the tub for the first time was tempered by the unspoken realization of why Will was hurrying to get so much done around the place.

Miss Beasley came to call when Lizzy was ten days old, surprising everyone. She brought a sweater and bootee set for the baby and Timothy Totter’s Tattersfor the boys-not the library copy but a brand-new one they could keep. They were awed by a stranger bringing them a gift and by the book itself and the idea that it belonged to them. Miss Beasley got them set up studying the pictures with a promise to read the book aloud as soon as she’d visited with their mother.

'So you’re up and about again,' she said to Eleanor.

'Yes. Will spoils me silly, though.'

'A woman deserves a little spoiling occasionally.' Without the slightest hint of warmth in her voice she dictated, 'Now, I should very much like to see that young one of yours.'

'Oh… of course. Come, she’s in our bedroom.'

Elly led the way and Will followed, standing back with his hands in his rear pockets while Miss Beasley leaned over the laundry basket and inspected the sleeping face. She crossed her hands over her stomach, stepped back and declared, 'You have a beautiful child there, Eleanor.'

'Thank you, Miss Beasley. She’s a good sleeper, too.'

'A blessing, I’m sure.'

'Yes’m, she is.'

To Will’s surprise, Miss Beasley informed Elly, 'Mr. Parker was quite, quite pleased that you named the child after him.'

'He was?' Elly peeked over her shoulder at Will, who smiled and shrugged.

'He most certainly was.'

Silence fell, strained, before Elly thought to offer, 'Got some fresh gingerbread and hot coffee if you’d like.'

'I’m quite partial to gingerbread, thank you.'

They all trooped back to the kitchen and Will watched Elly nervously serve the sweet and coffee and perch on the edge of her chair like a bird ready to take wing. Given a choice, she would probably have foregone this entire visit, but nobody turned Miss Beasley out of the house, not even out of the bedroom when she came to call. Will studied the librarian covertly, but she rarely glanced his way. The entire get-together was being carried out with the same pedantic formality with which Miss Beasley conducted a library tour for the children. It struck him that she was no more comfortable being here than Elly was having her. So why had she come? Duty only, because he worked for her?

Eventually the talk turned to the war and how it was spawning the most fierce patriotism in memorable history. 'They’re signing up as if it was a free-ice-cream line,' Miss Beasley said. 'Five more today from Whitney alone. James Burcham, Milford Dubois, Voncile Potts and two of the Sprague boys. Poor Esther Sprague-first a husband and now two sons. Rumor has it that Harley Overmire received a draft notice, too.' Miss Beasley didn’t gloat, but Will had the impression she wanted to.

'I’ve been worried about Will maybe having to go,' Eleanor confided.

'So have I. But a man will do what he must, and so will a woman, when the time comes.'

Was this, then, why she’d come, to prepare Elly because she already guessed his decision was made? To ease into Elly’s confidence because she knew Elly would need a friend when he was gone? Will’s heart warmed toward the plump woman who ate gingerbread with impeccable manners while a tiny dot of whipped cream rested on the fine hair of her upper lip.

In that moment he loved her and realized leaving her would make his going more difficult. Yet leave them he would, for it had already become understood that to be of military age and not join up was to be physically or mentally impaired, or the subject of suspicion and innuendo about one’s condition and courage.

Right after Christmas, Will decided. He’d wait until then to talk to a recruiter and to tell Elly. They deserved one Christmas together anyway.

He threw himself into holiday plans, wanting all the traditional trappings-the food, the tree, the gifts, the celebration-in case he never had the chance again. He made a scooter for the boys and bought them Holloway suckers, Cracker Jacks, Bunte’s Tango bars and Captain Marvel comic books. For Elly he bought something frivolous-the popular Chinese Checker game. It took two to play Chinese Checkers, but he bought it anyway as a portent of hope for his return.

December 22 brought news that a large Japanese landing had been staged just north of Manila. On Christmas Eve came news of another, just south of that city, which was in danger of falling to the enemy.

After that Elly and Will made a pact to leave the radio off for the remainder of the holiday and concentrate on the boys’ enthusiasm.

But she knew. Somehow, she knew.

Filling the stockings, Elly looked up and watched Will drop in a handful of roasted peanuts, nearly as excited as if the stocking were his instead of Thomas’s. She felt a stinging at the back of her nose and went to him before any telltale evidence formed in her eyes. She laid her cheek against his chest and said, 'I love you, Will.'

He toyed with her hair as she stood lightly against him. 'I love you, too.'

Don’t go, she didn’t say.

I have to, he didn’t reply.

And in moments they returned to filling the stockings.

For Will, Christmas morning was bittersweet, watching the boys’ eyes light up at the sight of the scooter, laughing while they dug into their stockings, holding them-still in their pajamas-on his lap while they sampled the