Christmastime 1941

by Linda Mahkovec

  She went back to the switchboard room and slowly put on her hat and coat. The switchboard was dark, lifeless; the chairs empty. This was her last day there – she could hardly believe it. She stood a moment in the doorway, and felt an absurd rush of affection for the narrow, windowless room. A stepping stone, she said to herself, and left.

  She walked to the elevator in a daze. How quickly everything had happened! She smiled to see that Izzy was there waiting for her.

  “I couldn’t help but overhear all the commotion,” said Izzy. “Congratulations.” She gave Lillian a quick hug, and they stepped into the elevator.

  “Oh, Izzy. I just can’t believe it! It was so unexpected. Did you have anything to do with this?”

  “I’m afraid all the credit goes to Weeble. And to you, of course. Anyway, they’re lucky to get you.”

  “I guess you were right about them both, Izzy. Though I have to say, it’s Mr. Weeble who surprises me more.”

  “Maybe in time you’ll change your mind about Mr. Rockwell.”

  “For your sake, I will, Izzy. If that’s what you want.”

  Izzy waved away his name, as if Rockwell were nothing more than an annoying insect. She took Lillian’s arm as they got off the elevator, and walked with her outside.

  “Lilly, I’m really happy for you. And I want to say how sorry I am for the way I spoke to you. I’ve never spoken to anyone like that before. I’ve felt terrible ever since.”

  “It doesn’t matter, Izzy. I just hate to see you so upset.” They paused at the corner where Izzy usually turned to catch her bus. “Izzy, I know how hard it’s been for you, with Red. But I’m sure things will work out.”

  “Always the optimist.” Izzy frowned out at the traffic, then shook her head, and gave a wry laugh. She turned around and faced Lillian. “I got a letter. Last week.”

  “You mean from Red?”

  Izzy nodded.

  Lillian waited for her to say something more. “And?”

  Izzy took a deep breath, and tried to sound matter-of-fact. “He married his nurse. Two months ago.”

  Lillian opened her mouth, her eyes searching Izzy’s face. “I don’t believe it,” she whispered.

  “It’s true. Apparently she helped him get through a tough time. They were together a lot.” Izzy shrugged, as if Lillian could guess the rest.

  Lillian stood speechless. She couldn’t think of anything to say that wouldn’t sound trite, inadequate. “Oh, Izzy,” was all she could say.

  “I’ll get over it. I’m slowly adjusting to the idea.” She put her hands in her pockets and scanned the crowded street. “I think what I’m most angry about is that he waited to tell me. I’ve spent the last year worrying about the lout, and I’ve been in knots these past few months. I’m tired of it. I just want to put it behind me. Move on.”

  Everything fell into place for Lillian. Izzy’s distance, her cold manner.

  A softer expression came over Izzy’s face. “The crazy thing is, sometimes I sit there, and I imagine him lying wounded, and depressed, sad about his buddies – and I’m actually thankful that there was a kind nurse there for him.” She tried to make light of the situation that was breaking her heart. “And you know what a charmer Red can be.” She pulled a hankie from her coat pocket and dabbed at her eyes and nose.

  “Mr. Rockwell knows,” continued Izzy. “Neither of us has any illusions about love or marriage. We’re just happy to have someone to pass the time with. For now.”

  “Oh, Izzy. I’m so sorry. I should have known something was wrong.”

  Izzy gave another shrug. “We’re at war, Lilly. This heartache of mine matters very little.”

  Lillian looked down, trying to make sense of everything. She put a hand on her friend’s arm. “What are you going to do?”

  “Do?” Izzy twisted her lips in thought and looked up at the sky. “I’m going to get a manicure.” She brushed away the curls on her forehead. “Get this mop fixed. You’ve seen the ads, telling us that it’s our duty to look beautiful for the men.” Izzy did her best to imitate the glamorous movie stars in the ads: “Morale is a woman’s business.”

  Lillian tried to smile, but she was deeply saddened, and worried for Izzy.

  Izzy took Lillian’s arm. “I’ll be all right, Lilly. I never stay down for long. I’ve already wasted enough time. I don’t want to waste any more. Life is too darned short.”

  *

  All evening Lillian found herself thinking about Izzy and Red. She had always thought of them as such a happy couple. Now he was someone else’s husband! It just didn’t seem possible. Who knows, she thought. Maybe the same fate awaits me. It begins with a postponement, and then – She left her thought unfinished.

  She wondered if Charles was keeping anything from her. She preferred the brutal truth to lies; at least with the truth, you were on firm ground, painful as it may be. Lies and half-truths were shifting ground that left you unable to think clearly.

  She tried to imagine, once again, what had happened between her and Charles. It was unfair of him to make the decision about their wedding without discussing it with her. That’s what most bothered her. If he simply wanted to wait a bit, she could understand that. But there was some reason he wasn’t telling her. She was sure of it. Something made him think that it was his decision, and not hers. Maybe there was someone else he still thought about. She ran with that idea for a while, but kept coming up empty. He had never given her a moment’s hesitation on that account. Or maybe he was just getting cold feet, afraid of having his life changed so dramatically. She could understand that as well. If that were the case, he should simply tell her. She would ask him directly the next time she saw him; not wait to find out months later, like poor Izzy.

  After the boys went to bed, Lillian sorted through the mail. She noticed a letter from Annette and suddenly felt somewhat lifted. Here was an ally who would never desert her. The two sisters wrote to each other almost weekly, and Lillian always looked forward to her news. She sat on the couch, tucked her legs underneath her, and opened Annette’s letter.

  Annette wrote that Bernie was already at work on their vegetable garden, clearing and staking out a much larger garden to be planted in the spring. She wrote of their plans for Christmas, news from their town and how everyone was buying War Bonds, and how much the children missed Tommy and Gabriel. And then she wrote how sorry she was to hear that the wedding had been postponed.

  I’ve been turning it over in my mind, and I’m afraid something I said might have influenced Charles. It was right after the news of the attack – I forgot I had even said it, until I received your letter saying that Charles wanted to wait on the wedding. Then I remembered. I told him how hard it was for you after Tom died. That you couldn’t go through that again. That it took you so long to get over. I’m so sorry, Lillian. I should have known how Charles would take it. I guess I was just being the protective older sister. But after seeing you two together, and after getting to know him, I hope to God that you don’t wait. You two belong together.

  Lillian set the letter on her lap, and groaned as she thought of all the terrible things she had mentally accused Charles of. Because the postponement didn’t make any sense, she had searched for, and come up with, any number of excuses: selfishness, fickleness, still being in love with someone else, not wanting to be tied down with a wife and children.

  Yet she had never considered the one reason that did make sense: that he was sacrificing his own happiness for her sake.

  Chapter 13

  *

  For the last three days, Brendan had told himself to stop behaving like a foolish lad. To forget Mary Murphy, like he should have done long ago. The anger that had suffused him, slowly narrowed into a hounding desire to have an answer – any answer that would plug up the rush of sorrow and loss. He would have an answer. Even if it finally proved to him that she had simply never cared for him as he believed. He would see her one more time.

  When Mrs. Murphy’s bell rang, s
he knew it would be Brendan. She had been expecting him. Knew he would call on her one last time, to blame her or interrogate her, or simply to say goodbye. She was prepared.

  “Come in, Brendan. Please, sit down. I’ll make us a pot of tea.”

  “Don’t bother. I’ll not keep you long.” He stood awkwardly near the door, twisting his cap in his hand.

  When he didn’t say anything more, she took him by the hand and led him to the couch. “Come. Sit down.” She sat in the armchair next to the couch.

  Mrs. Murphy almost smiled as Brendan launched right into what he had to say. He was never one for beating around the bush. He had always been straightforward and truthful. He spoke as if forty years did not sit between them.

  “When you broke it off, I was angry, determined to stay away from you. I let a month go by, then when I couldn’t stand it any longer, I went to your house and knocked on the door. Pounded, really,” he said with a wry smile. “It was your sister who told me you had moved away. Why, it nearly broke my heart, and the sorrow was upon me, for I knew then that it was final. It was over.

  “I buried myself in drink for a while, knowing how you would despise that. Then I exhausted myself traipsing all over the Northeast, working here and there. At some point, I realized that I was afraid of being alone. Afraid of being alone with my thoughts of you. The loss was more than I could bear.

  “Elizabeth had been recently left at the altar. She was a proud woman and couldn’t bear the thought that people would talk. She saw me looking hang-dogged at church, and began to convince me that we were a pair. Of course she meant that we had both been jilted, but I let her fool herself, and me, that we were well-suited. And so we married.

  “The birth of Nancy kept us happy enough for a few years. But without anything ever being said, we gradually drifted apart. She became busy with the church, with Nancy. I let myself get lost in work. I think we both felt that we had failed each other. And ourselves.”

  Mrs. Murphy had not expected this. She had always imagined him happy, in his robust way of embracing life. Now, she realized how wrong she had been. She put a gentle hand on his arm, but he pulled back.

  He shook away that part of his past, and made himself smile. “But our saving grace was Nancy. She made it all worthwhile. Forced me to think about someone besides myself. And, of course, now there’s the grandchildren,” he said, shifting to a strained cheerfulness. “All in all, life has been good.”

  He began twisting his hat in his hand again. “I didn’t want you to think that I blamed you in any way, or held a grudge, or any bad feeling. We all have our reasons for doing what we do.” He waited for her to say something, but she remained silent.

  Again, he tried to smile, but his eyes showed sadness. He looked at the floor, and knitted his brows, as if seeing an old image there. “It’s just that – I had imagined you so many times with some handsome fella, lots of kids – it took some doing to re-imagine things in my head.”

  Mrs. Murphy reached out to him again, and this time he let her take his hand.

  “Mary,” he said, only now looking up at her, “I’m glad our paths crossed again. I mean that. But – I need to know. Can you not tell me what happened? Can you not help me to make sense of it?”

  The asking in his eyes nearly broke her heart. She knew that to let him go again, without the truth, would be a cruelty she was not capable of.

  “Brendan,” she began, forcing herself to look him in the eye. “I have been a coward. I am guilty of withholding the truth from you. Then. And now. I thought it was for the best. For both of us.”

  She waited for what seemed like several minutes before saying calmly, “I had cancer.”

  Her simple statement knocked the air out of him. He sat staring at her, trying to take in what she was saying.

  “Breast cancer,” she continued. “Uncommon for one so young, but not unheard of. They decided to take a radical approach.” She gave him an airy smile. “I guess they made the right decision. I’m still here.”

  Brendan’s stunned expression shifted as comprehension slowly pieced everything together. His eyes and mouth scrunched in slow, pained understanding. His eyes went from her face to her chest, back to her face.

  She nodded.

  He gave a short sound of pain, as if he had been struck a deep blow. “Ah, Mary,” he said, embracing her tightly. Then he tossed his hat on the coffee table, and took her face in his hands. “Why did you not tell me? Did you think that would have changed anything?”

  “I thought I would be different. We had such perfection. I couldn’t bear the thought of becoming something else.”

  After several moments, Brendan sat back, squinting into the past. “I remember. You were tired. Those dark circles, the fatigue. I thought I had myself to blame for that. I thought I was demanding too much of your time and energy.”

  She rubbed his arm. “I should have told you. I was terrified myself. I didn’t think I could handle your terror as well. I thought it would be easier, for me, to go through it alone. I didn’t want anyone to know. I wanted to be able to pretend that I was the same. And it was easier to do so if I was on my own.”

  She gave him time for it to sink in. “It was the morning after our last night together – that I met with the doctor for the results. And he told me.”

  Brendan slowly shook his head. “I couldn’t figure it out. When I asked you to marry me, and you accepted – that was the happiest day of my life. I went over and over that last night of ours. It all felt so right and true.” He turned to her, seeing once again in detail, every moment of that day. “We walked along the river, Mary, do you remember?”

  “Of course, I do.”

  “We strolled to that bench of ours, making plans. I’ll never forget that kiss, not as long as I live.” Then his smiled dropped to the floor, and he jerked back on the couch, as if he had just been struck with a sledgehammer. “Oh, Jaysus!!” he cried, remembering the words he had spoken that night. He put his hands over his face and groaned. “I didn’t know what I was saying. Oh, dear God, please don’t tell me my words had any bearing on your decision!”

  “No, Brendan, of course they didn’t.”

  He held her and gently rocked, tears filling his eyes. Then again he held her face between his hands. “I would have said the same thing if it was your knee or your elbow or the small of your back I held in my hand.”

  “It wasn’t your words, believe me, Brendan. It was me and my fear.”

  “To go through that alone. Oh, my poor dear girl. I should have been there for you.” A glint of anger appeared in his eyes, and he dropped his hands onto his lap. “You had no right to take that away from me.”

  “I was young and proud and foolish. And scared. I didn’t know how to handle it. I’m so sorry I caused you pain. I had hoped all these years that you were happy.”

  She watched him as he sat staring at the floor. She wanted to give him a graceful way out, and chose words that would minimize everything that had just passed between them. “I hope we can still be friends.”

  “Friends?” Brendan asked, surprised at the word. “Friends?” He leaned back, and wiped his eyes. “I don’t think my heart will allow for that. I’ve never stopped loving you, Mary. Life has shaped me in a way that makes me love you more than ever.”

  He stood and took his hat. “My offer stands, till the day I die.” He kissed her forehead, and quickly left.

  Chapter 14

  *

  Charles was relieved to see Mrs. Murphy back in the office. It was the 23rd, and he wanted to see her before the Christmas holiday began. She had called in sick two days in a row – something she had never done in all the years she worked for him. Ever since his return from upstate, he had watched her stable personality fluctuate dramatically. First down, then up, then soaring, now down again. For the past two weeks or so, he had never seen her so happy – rushing out to lunch, leaving the office in a hurry, humming to herself. He had caught her smiling out at nothing on
more than one occasion. She was like a young girl in love. But today she was once again subdued.

  Charles and Mason took her out for a holiday lunch, and she put up a good front. They discussed their plans for Christmas, and the changes they would have to make in the office when they returned after the holidays.

  “Three of our clerks are now with the Army,” said Mason. “Several others have enlisted.”

  “We’ll have to place an advertisement after the holiday,” said Charles. “Lillian tells me to start hiring women. Promote and train the ones we have. Mason,” he said, suddenly. “How about your sisters? They’ve all had training, haven’t they? Do you think any of them would be interested in working with us?”

  Mrs. Murphy clapped her hands. “What a wonderful idea, Mr. Drooms!” She turned to Mason excitedly. “What about your sister, Edith? She’s a typist, isn’t she? Didn’t you say she was looking for work?”

  “Indeed, she is. And she has a head for numbers. I’ll discuss it with her tonight.” The idea obviously thrilled Mason, though he was trying his hardest not to show it.

  “I hope she says yes,” said Mrs. Murphy, perking up at the idea of being able to help the young woman. “Tell her I will personally take her under my wing.” Mrs. Murphy smiled inwardly, remembering something Brendan used to say: The best way out of our own troubles, is to help someone else with theirs.

  “Thank you, Mrs. Murphy. I’ll be sure to tell her.”

  “I hope so, as well,” said Charles. “I’d like to bring some good news to Lillian for a change. She would be delighted to know that I’ve acted on her suggestion.”

  Mrs. Murphy noticed the trace of sadness underneath his words.

  When they returned to the office, Charles decided to close early. Everyone was eager to begin their Christmas vacation.

  After the staff left, Mason said his goodbyes to Mrs. Murphy and Charles. “Merry Christmas to you both!”

  Charles knew that Mason would hurry straight home and tell his sister the good news; it would make his whole family happy. Charles wished he had thought about hiring one of Mason’s sisters earlier.