“Maybe and maybe not. But you held on to the idea that it was all going to come out happily-ever-after in the end, so you stayed.”
“You don’t know what I did or why.”
Why are we fighting? Is this what we’re going to remember about our last night together?
“Well, maybe I don’t. I don’t know why I gave in to Claudia, other than the obvious. I never did anything like that before. Mother made my life miserable, so maybe I was getting back at her. But that’s no good reason for what I did. No excuse.”
“If you knew it was wrong, why did you want the same thing from me?”
He stared at her.
“You said I wasn’t like Claudia, but you wanted me to be, at least in that way, didn’t you?”
He blew out his breath. “I guess I did. I’m sorry.”
“So if I’d given in to you, I’d have been just like her, and then you wouldn’t have wanted to marry me either.”
“That’s not true. I love you. I didn’t love her.”
“Oh, Kent, we’re just going around in circles.”
“I guess we are. I better go.” He stood up. “I’m sorry, Velvet.”
“Me, too.”
“Will you be all right?”
She shrugged. “Sure.”
“I could ask Veda to come over when she gets through at the Canteen tonight.”
“I don’t need a babysitter.”
“That’s not what I…oh, never mind.”
“You better go, or you’ll miss your ride.”
“I love you, Velvet.”
She nodded but didn’t take the hand he held out to her. When he walked out the front door, she slipped into the hall and watched through the screen until the dusk swallowed him up.
****
Celeste didn’t fall asleep until dawn. When she woke it was after noon, and when she went downstairs she found a piece of paper stuck in the screen door. “You can write to me at this address if you want to. Please forgive me.” In the bottom corner, he’d sketched a small toad wearing a crown.
Chapter Twenty-One
Several times, Celeste tried to find a way to tell Coralee about Kent, but she always held back at the last minute.
I know she’d understand, but she might tell me to forget him, and I don’t want to do that. I’m not sure I could anyway. Why can’t I just accept that he did what he did and go on? Maybe if the little boy wasn’t in the picture…but he is. He’s there just like I was when Daddy took Mamma back.
The girls at the store sympathized with her over Kent’s departure. Most of them had someone in service, too—husband, brother, boyfriend, neighbor, acquaintance. She accepted their kind words with appropriate replies, feeling doubly dishonest that she let them keep believing she was heartbroken because he was gone.
But my heart’s not broken. I’m just plain relieved that I don’t have to see him and try to act like everything is the same when it’s not.
When Kent didn’t write, she supposed he was waiting for her to make the first move. She tried, without success. The wastebasket beside the desk in the parlor filled up with the crumpled sheets of stationery, letters begun and never finished.
What is there to say? I told him I still loved him, and I do. At least, I think I do. I think I’ve grown up a lot, too, but that doesn’t mean I have to toss out all my principles like Mamma did.
****
She did hear from Kent’s brother Neil, who wrote to apologize for their mother’s inhospitable behavior and for the scene created by Mrs. Peters.
I guess Kent and I just accept Mother for who and what she is. She’s not a bad person. She just likes to be the boss. Things might have been different if Dad hadn’t died, but then she started bossing us the way she did him, and we just let her because he did. I don’t know what went on between Kent and Claudia or if Jonny could be his or not. (I hope I’m not embarrassing you—we’re both adults—or supposed to be.) If he is, Kent owes him something. The poor kid’s better off without his mother, as awful as that sounds. She was just plain no good, and maybe it wasn’t all her fault. But you’re a swell girl, Celeste, and Kent loves you. I hope things work out for both of you.
Kay and I are getting married at Christmas. I got a job teaching history in the high school here, but it doesn’t start until September. With both our paychecks, we’ll have enough to rent a small apartment—if we can find one these days.
Take care of yourself, Celeste, and keep in touch.
She wrote back, just a quick note wishing Kay and him well. He probably didn’t need to know how Kent had left on a sour note, one she wasn’t sure could ever be replayed in tune.
****
Mrs. Lowe kept up with the servicemen who passed through the Canteen and always announced, just before they opened every Saturday night, the names of those who had been wounded or killed. “I know it’s a somber note,” she said, “but I want you young ladies to understand how important it is to be good to these boys while they’re here.”
Once she said to Celeste, “I hold my breath when I get a list, afraid I’ll see Kent’s name on it. I pray for him and all the others.”
Celeste hugged her. “Thank you, Mrs. Lowe. You’ll get a star in your crown for all this.”
“All I want is for this war to be over, and our boys to come home safely. As many of them as possible.”
****
Veda’s brother came home wounded from the Pacific. “He won’t go back,” she confided to Celeste over lunch one Friday. “He won’t ever be the same.” She told Mrs. Lowe she couldn’t come to the Canteen for a while and started taking the bus home to Winters every weekend.
Just before Thanksgiving, Celeste ran into Pete Frame on her way to the bank. He asked her to have a cup of coffee and proceeded to do what he called spilling his guts. “I’m not cut out for the military,” he said, watching for her reaction. “I don’t want to kill anybody, not even a Jap or a Nazi.”
“I don’t guess anybody does.”
“Some of the guys don’t have any trouble. When we trained with the bayonets, they hit those straw dummies like they were enjoying it.”
“I already know you didn’t.”
“I dream about it, Cece. What’s going to happen to me when I do it for real?”
“You’ll be all right, Pete. I know you will.”
He rubbed his eyes. “I guess so. One of the older sergeants who helped train us told us that he didn’t think he could do it either, but when he got to France in 1918, he did. He said when it comes down to you or him, you’ll do what you have to do.”
“It’s just too bad it has to be done at all.”
“Yeah. I’m not a coward.”
“I know that.”
“I can’t tell my folks all this,” he said. “But I’ve got to get it off my chest somehow. You always were a good listener.”
“When do you have to go back?”
“Never, I wish, but I’ve only got thirty days. What about you? You have a steady fellow overseas somewhere?”
“I met someone—a bombardier,” she said after a minute, “but we don’t really keep in touch.”
“Why not?”
“It’s a long story.”
“So it’s not serious.”
“I thought for a while it might be.” She shrugged. “What about you?”
He grinned and pulled out his wallet. “Her name’s Alice. I met her during basic training.” He handed her a black-and-white photograph of a young woman whose smile looked ready to erupt into laughter.
“She’s really pretty,” Celeste said, studying the girl’s face. “Are you engaged?”
“She said yes, but I couldn’t afford a ring.”
“A ring’s not important.”
“We’ve talked about getting married before I go overseas, but we decided to wait.”
“Why?”
“What if I don’t get back? She lives at home and works in an ammunition plant. She’ll be better off if we don’t get married. I can’t stand the idea of her being left with a…baby.” His voice dropped to a whisper.
“How does she feel about that?”
“She says a few days are better than none at all.”
“Then maybe you should grab whatever time you have.” The words slipped out before Celeste realized what she was saying.
“You really think so?”
“You’re coming home safe and sound, Pete. But I think you should do whatever the two of you feel is right, whether it’s getting married now or waiting until after the war.”
“I’d like for you to meet Alice.”
“I’ll look forward to that. After the war and all, when you bring her home.”
“Sure, I’ll do that, and we’ll get together and talk about old times. Maybe by then you and your bombardier fellow will be back in touch.”
“It’s hard to get to know somebody during a war. Nothing’s certain anymore, not even tomorrow.”
“You’re right about that. I was just lucky with Alice, I guess. In a way, she reminds me a lot of you.”
“I hope she likes all the things you do, the things I didn’t like.”
He laughed. “She’s a real outdoors type.”
“Pete, can I ask you something? I don’t mean to embarrass you, but we were always good friends.”
“We still are, Cece. I’ve thought about you a lot. Ask me whatever you want to.”
“The soldier I met…well, actually, I met him before the war, just briefly, but he ended up back here at Concho Field, and I’m helping at the Canteen, so…”
“So you ran into him again, and bells rang.” He grinned.
“I thought so. We’re alike in all the ways that you and I weren’t, but you and I never argued.”
“We didn’t have anything to argue about. We had a good time. We both knew we weren’t going the same direction after high school, and I wasn’t trying to get you in the back seat of my car and…” He stopped. “Now I’m embarrassing you, I bet. Things get talked about in the barracks, and a guy sort of loses his inhibitions.”
She felt the color creeping into her face and looked away.
“That’s it, isn’t it? He tried something.”
She nodded.
He leaned across the table and folded her hands into his. “Well, it happens, kiddo. That doesn’t make him a rotten apple.”
“What’s wrong with me, Pete? I’m almost twenty-two.”
“There’s nothing wrong with you. You’re a good girl, always were, always will be. But there’s a double standard out there. A guy can, and a girl can’t. Understand?”
She nodded.
“Don’t write him off for one mistake.”
“But you…”
“Listen, I’m as human as your bombardier, and I’m not going to tell you I haven’t thought about…things. Some guys do more than think. Maybe it’s all one and the same.”
“Not really.”
He squeezed her hands and released them. “Alice said something once, that in a war people just seem to be grabbing today because tomorrow might not come. You just said the same thing, that maybe Alice and I should grab whatever time we have. I’ll admit I’d like to, and maybe, when I get back out to Virginia, I’ll change my mind and marry her before I ship out.”
“You’ll know what’s right to do.”
“And so will you. Give the guy a break, especially if you really care about him.”
****
They said goodbye on the corner where Pete caught a bus to his parents’ house. It was too late to go to the bank or to Cox-Rushing-Greer to pay on her layaway, so Celeste walked back to the alley behind Woolworth and got into her car. She parked in the small garage behind the house and walked around to get the mail.
I told Pete that nothing was certain, but habits are hard to break. Daddy used to park and then walk around the house for the mail every afternoon, and now I’m doing it.
When she climbed the steps, the sight of the telegram stuck in the screen door sent her reeling backward against the porch rail. Before the war, telegrams had brought good news as well as bad. Ben had sent her one as a keepsake when Barbara was born. Now, those yellow envelopes were harbingers of doom, like vultures circling the decaying carcasses of people’s hearts and hopes and dreams.
With shaking fingers, numb with fear, Celeste tore open the telegram and unfolded it.
KENT MIA OVER GERMANY. STOP. MAY BE POW. STOP. WILL KEEP YOU POSTED. STOP. LOVE, NEIL
Celeste sat by the phone for a long time, re-reading the telegram and smoothing it in her lap as if removing the creases would take away what it said. Finally, she called Coralee.
“Oh, baby girl, I’m so sorry. We’ll just keep praying he’s okay.”
“He’s not okay, Sister. Neither am I.” Then she told Coralee everything.
“I’m coming tomorrow. We’ll make sense of everything.”
“No, don’t do that.. I’m all right. I tried to write him, but I couldn’t. It’s been almost six months. Now I can’t write him at all.”
“Well, it wasn’t your fault.”
“Wasn’t it? I was judge and jury and found him guilty.”
“He wasn’t honest with you.”
“It wouldn’t have made any difference. For that matter, I wasn’t honest with him.”
“Are you saying you couldn’t accept what he’d done because of what Mamma did?”
“I’m not sure. Daddy loved me for a while—or pretended to—because he wanted Mamma back. Then when she died, he punished me for what she did.”
“And so you punished Kent.”
“Something like that, I guess.”
“Men aren’t saints, Cece. Women aren’t either. No one is.”
“I know. I wish I could take back everything, but I can’t. Maybe now I’ll never get the chance.”
“Are you sure you don’t want me to come stay with you, at least for the weekend?”
“I’m sure, but thanks. Kent said I hadn’t grown up. At first, I didn’t think he was right, but now I think maybe he was, just a little. So now I’ve got to do it. Grow up. On my own.”
When she turned on the radio later before sitting down at the desk, the strains of “I’ll Be Seeing You” filled the room and tore at her heart. Celeste bit back her tears and picked up the pen.
Dear Kent,
Here’s the letter I should have written six months ago. I tried to write, really I did, but I couldn’t say what I felt inside. I’ve thought about you every day, not that it matters now, but maybe you can feel me thinking about you this minute, wherever you are. I’ve never stopped loving you, and I don’t think I ever will. I was mad at you about Claudia and the boy. I was mad at my father for not loving me after Mamma died. He didn’t love me because I wasn’t really his, you see. But that’s a story for another time.
I guess I’ve thrown away my chance—our chance to have a life together—but I have to tell you I’m sorry, even if you’ll never know it. I’m truly sorry for judging you, for expecting you to be perfect when nobody is. Princes only exist in fairy tales, and they’re pretty one-sided characters. Maybe, in the long run, toads are more interesting. At least they’re more real.