A Pledge of Silence (34 page)

“Nothing much. I’m stuck in this Podunk town. It’s like watching paint dry.” He wiped his mouth on a napkin. “You should’ve seen me in France. I crawled on my belly through enemy fire to the guys who needed my help. They called me Doc. The villagers cheered us like we were heroes.” He balled up the napkin and threw it to the floor. “Now, it seems us vets are a threat to society.”

“Where’d you hear that?”

“It’s in the papers. How could you miss it?” His face screwed up, and he fought back tears. “Fuck ’em. They just don’t know—” He gazed out the window, continuing in a monotone. “I found this kid in a ditch, covered with blood and shit. He was my age. God, we even had the same color hair. His guts were hanging out of his belly. I stuck him with morphine, dressed the wound, and held his hand while he talked. He said he had a sister named Margie. Would you believe that?” The tears that had threatened earlier now coursed down Frank’s face. “I watched him die, and I thought it was me! I
fucking
couldn’t sort … it … out!”

“It’s all right, Frank.”

He slammed his fist on the dashboard. “No, it’s not all right! No one listens! No one wants to hear it. I got all this stuff going around in my head. Irene says I have nightmares, that I kick and cry. I don’t remember them, but I wake up feeling like a fucking time-bomb.”

“It’s not only you.”

He smirked. “Don’t I know that? The VA hospitals are full of us nut cases. We’re very much in vogue.”

“There are psychiatric services—”

“And make it official! Frank Bauer, nut case! Two years of my life. I could have finished school. Working at a job. Giving Irene and Billy what they deserve. Did you hear the GM plant went on strike? I’d kill for a job, and those assholes are picketing for higher wages.”

“Then go back to school.”

“Look at me. Can you see me sitting in a classroom?”

“You can draw GI benefits. It’s what Irene wants.”

He bit his lip almost to the point of bleeding. “How’s Irene doing?”

“She needs you.” Too late, Margie remembered her first weeks at home, too weak in mind and body to be needed. She tried again. “You need her. She’s steady and smart. She’s amazing with Billy. Don’t blow it with her, Frank.”

She thought she saw him soften a little.

Out on the street, screeching brakes preceded the sound of metal crumpling. Brother and sister both jumped, and Frank ducked down as far as he could in the seat. People from the diner rushed to the scene of the accident.

He fumbled for the car door handle. “I gotta get out of here!”

“Stay! I’ll drive you home!”

He opened the door and leaped out.

“Here! Take this!” Margie said, holding out all the cash she could grab from her purse.

He shoved the money in his pocket and sprinted through the parking lot, away from the growing crowd.

Engrossed in her thoughts, Margie completely forgot about the groceries until she pulled into the driveway. She knew battle fatigue when she saw it: men who looked fine on the outside, but churned with pain and paranoia internally, their behavior unpredictable, tempers quick to flare, and their coarse language hard on the ears.

She drove the car into the barn and sat alone in the half-dark. She almost envied Frank. What would it feel like to spew venomous anger? To writhe with hate? To cry bitter tears? To truly love and feel loved in return? To care deeply and passionately about something or someone? Was she destined to live emotionally flat forever?

She closed the barn door and locked it. From inside the house, she heard Irene crying and Mama saying, “Things will work out. They always do.”

“What’s going on?” Margie asked as she shed her outerwear.

Irene sputtered in anger. “Ford’s government contract expired and they’re cutting personnel. I was laid off. Most of the women were.”

“I’m so sorry,” Margie said.

“They gave my job to a man who
has a family to support
! I’ve been asked to stay on for two weeks and train him! How am
I
supposed to live? I have Billy to support. Frank is gone heaven only knows where.”

“He’s here in town. I saw him today in the park. I bought him lunch, and we talked.”

Irene snapped to attention. “Did he say when he’s coming home?”

Margie debated how much to tell Irene. Aged in years and spirit, Frank was no longer the kid brother she remembered. She had no idea when he planned to return home, or even if he ever would. So she just said, “Give him time. He’s working through some problems.”

His job secure, Wade suggested they start looking for a house. One Sunday afternoon in October, they drove to Ann Arbor to meet with a real estate agent. Arriving in town early, they stopped to visit Gracie and Kenneth, who lived in faculty housing at the University of Michigan. Kenneth taught ancient history, and Gracie worked at the veteran’s hospital.

After hugs all around, Gracie patted Margie’s extended belly. “You’re not so big. You’re due, what, in about four weeks?”

“About. I feel as big as an elephant.”

Plump again, Gracie had a pot of coffee perking, and she put out a plate of pastries. They caught each other up on the latest news: when Kenneth’s mother visited, there had been a bit of a dust-up over the prospect of grandchildren; Wade filled them in on his job at the
Tribune
and his hopes for promotion.

“Tell them what’s going on with you,” Kenneth prodded Gracie.

She blushed. “It’s not important.”

“It is, too. Tell them. They should know.”

“It’s work,” Gracie said. “Seems I’m not considered stable enough to pass meds.”

Margie said, “What? You? You’re joking, right?”

“I’m afraid not. I’m considered mentally fragile from being locked up, starved, mutilated, beaten and raped.”

“That’s awful! It’s absolutely not true! Who says that?”

“My supervisor. She’s young, and I think she’s intimidated by me. She’s got a lot of people whispering about me. It’s pretty uncomfortable. For the last two months, I’ve been pulling split shifts. All I do is bed baths, back rubs and deliver meal trays. That was the last straw. My tour of duty finished up last week. Yesterday I turned in my resignation. I think my supervisor is glad I’m gone.”

“Oh Gracie, I’m sorry. Could you have transferred to another department?”

“Probably, but I’m a little sour on the whole place right now. Maybe I just need a break.” She passed the plate of pastries to Margie. “Here, help me drown my sorrows.”

They batted Gracie’s options back and forth—she could go back to school for specialized training on the GI Bill; apply for a teaching position in the University’s school of nursing; or maybe start a family and make Kenneth’s mother happy.

As Margie and Wade got ready to leave, the foursome made a date to get together soon for dinner and a movie.

At the real estate agent’s office a few blocks away, he told them listings were practically nonexistent; houses that came on the market sold before agents had time to advertise them. The shabbiness of the only two available properties dismayed Margie, and the high asking prices shocked Wade. The drive home was quiet, as both felt the day had turned into a dismal one.

A few days later, they tried to find a place in Little River, but the situation there was no better. Families lived with relatives in attics, basements, or in trailers parked in the yard. And those families were growing. Everywhere Margie went—the grocery store, the beauty parlor, the library—she heard women chatting about morning sickness, fatigue, and the cute maternity tops they made to cover their expanding figures.

Frustrated, Wade and Margie decided their best option would be to stay in the house with Mama, at least until after the baby arrived.

Chapter 25

By the middle of October, Margie’s blood pressure soared frighteningly high, with accompanying headaches and bouts of dizziness. Dr. Middleton prescribed medication and bed rest. After several days of confinement, she waddled down the stairs at five o’clock in the morning, placing her swollen feet carefully. Despite the early hour, she found Mama sitting at the kitchen table. “Good morning, Mama. How come you’re sitting here in the dark?”

Mama startled in surprise. “I didn’t hear you come in, honey. You shouldn’t be out of bed!”

“I know. I just need to sit up for a while.”

Mama scooped oatmeal into a bowl, added cream and brown sugar and handed it to Margie. “When I was pregnant with you, I sat at this same table in the early mornings when I couldn’t sleep.”

“Did you swell up like this?” Margie held up a puffy foot.

“No, but you were a big baby and sat high under my ribs, so I was always uncomfortable. I was ready to go through anything to get my body back.”

“I’ll never do this again.”

“That’s what we all say. You feel miserable right now, but you’ll forget most of it. You’ll be overcome with new feelings. Nothing compares to mother love.”

Margie wouldn’t admit it, but she didn’t have any feelings for this baby, though she went through the motions, hoping they might arise. She sewed tiny nightgowns, stitching bunnies and flowers on the bodices and hems with colored threads and ribbons. She fussed over the pastel sweaters, hats, and booties her mother and Irene knitted and played all the silly games at the shower Wade’s sister Carol threw. The baby would surely be a boy, her girlfriends predicted—she was carrying high, low, wide, out front. But at this moment, sitting at the kitchen table, massaging her aching back, the only emotion Margie felt was fear.

“Were you afraid, Mama?”

“Of course. It’s normal. You’re facing an unknown. Dr. Middleton delivered you, and he’s a good doctor. We’ll all be there with you, just outside the door. You’re going to be fine.”

The words didn’t comfort her, however; her fear reached far beyond the birthing. She tried to eat a spoonful of oatmeal, but it sickened her stomach. Headachy and anxious, she lumbered back to bed.

Early that afternoon, Dr. Middleton climbed the stairs to Margie’s bedroom. Puffing by the time he got to the top, he mopped sweat from his brow with a kerchief. He pulled a chair over by the bed and settled his hefty frame. “How are you feeling, my dear?”

“Fat and ugly.”

“Oh, my, my. Don’t say that. You’re beautiful as ever.” He retrieved a stethoscope from his black bag and listened for fetal sounds, estimated the baby’s size, then checked Margie’s blood pressure. “Not good, not good.” He rubbed his chin while deliberating. “The baby’s small. We might have miscalculated the due date. Still … well, I think we’d better induce labor and get you out of this situation. I can schedule it for first thing in the morning. Is Wade around? I’d like to talk to him.”

“No, he’s at work. Do you expect any problems?”

“With your blood pressure so high and the baby so small, we need to be prepared for additional risk. I’ve delivered hundreds of babies, Margie, and I know what to do. Your job is to rest. Don’t eat anything after midnight. You’ll be getting a call from the hospital to tell you when to come in.”

When Dr. Middleton left, she phoned Wade at work. “Guess what? I’m having the baby in the morning.” Both relieved and frightened, she lay back and wondered—Joshua Wade or Barbara Ann?

Getting ready for the big day, Mama helped Margie wash and set her hair. While she sat under the dryer, Irene gave her a manicure and pedicure, minus the polish.

“Why no polish?” Irene asked. “I’ve always wondered.”

“They watch the color of the nail bed. It turns blue if you’re not getting enough oxygen.”

“No kidding?” Irene looked at her own nails.

Shyly, Margie said, “What’s giving birth like?”

Irene buffed Margie’s nails to a high gloss. “I don’t really remember much about it, except it took a long time. I wanted Frank there more than anything. I do remember being scared, but not the pain. Toward the end, they gave me something that knocked me out. When I woke up, there he was, all six pounds, 12 ounces of him.” She put down the buffer. “There, all groomed. You need help shaving your legs?”

Margie giggled. “Oh, would you?”

Wade came home from work early, stopping on the way to put gas in the car and air in the tires. He had meticulously attended to those chores these last weeks. After dinner, they packed a suitcase with nightgowns, robe and slippers, personal items, and a book, then set up the cribbage board to pass the time. Neither could concentrate on the game, and the minutes ticked slowly by. Wade tried to hide his anxiety by whistling.

“Please stop it,” Margie barked as a sharp pain ripped through her insides. She doubled over.

Wade jumped up. “What’s wrong?”

She brushed the cards aside, lay back on her pillow, and assessed her condition. The pain had passed, but her heart still thumped wildly. She felt a shift. “He’s moving around. I think he wants out.”

“Should I call Dr. Middleton?”

“No. Not yet. It’s too soon. I have a headache. I’d like to sleep.” She shuffled to the bathroom, aware that something had changed. She thanked her lucky stars all this would be over by tomorrow afternoon.

Wade tucked her back into bed, then switched out the light and went downstairs to sit with Mama and Irene.

Margie immediately fell asleep. An hour later, her face began to twitch, and her respirations stopped. Her body went rigid, the muscles alternately contracting and relaxing in rapid sequence, causing her to bite down hard on her tongue. She woke up gasping for air, and yelled, “Wade! Mama!” Sinking into a coma-like state, she dreamed she was swimming in a warm pool.

From outside the house came the sounds of squealing brakes and a vehicle door slamming. Panting, Frank charged through the front door and into the living room. “Where’s Irene? I heard her calling. Is she all right?”