Laura and Eddie fell into a routine. They worked together in the office after school, putting up the mail and giving it out. When there was no activity at the office, they did their homework. They planned their class meetings together, and Laura was very thankful that they were in different classrooms so they could both be presidents. She liked being in charge, and so did Eddie.
They continued Eddie’s exercises, and he used his crutches less and less. One evening in September, he put away his crutches for good. Laura thought they ought to burn the crutches as a symbol of Eddie’s triumph, but Mama said they’d better keep them. Mama splurged and bought a roast for dinner with meat stamps she’d been saving and said it would be a good-bye-to-crutches dinner. She invited Maude to join the family. They were in a celebratory mood, but when Dad came home things changed.
“What’s wrong?” Laura asked when she saw his grim expression.
“Bad news,” he said. “Phil Johnson died.” Laura had to search her memory until she remembered the name. Phil Johnson was president of Boeing, but he wasn’t an old man.
“I didn’t know he was sick,” she said.
“He didn’t know he was, either. He was in Wichita to check on the facility where they’re making B-29s when a tumor in his brain started bleeding. It was all very sudden.”
“What will happen at the plant?” Mama asked.
“I don’t know who will move into his position. Work buzzed with speculation, but the outcome was that his death shouldn’t change anything. Phil would have expected us to keep production going, but it won’t be the same without him around.”
The good-bye-to-crutches dinner became a good-bye-to-Phil Johnson dinner. Margie had only met him once, but she told the story of shaking his hand when he came to the line. Dad remembered him as an intelligent man of vision.
“If there’s one thing this war has taught us, it’s how to deal with death,” Maude said. “We just give our dead to the Lord and somehow keep going.”
Laura thought of Yvonne’s brother and how hard it had been on the Dreger family to let him go. She thought of Neil Palmer and how Corrine still hadn’t given up hope of his return. How will it all end? she wondered. And when will it all end?
As the days of fall slipped by, Laura followed the campaign for president of the United States. She listened to President Roosevelt’s speeches and heard some of New York Governor Dewey’s radio talks, too. She didn’t have a doubt that Mr. Roosevelt would be reelected. He was president when she was born, and he was still president.
“He can’t be too confident,” Maude said one day when she was picking up her mail. “Of course the Republicans are against him, but there are even some Democrats who think he’s been president too long. Whoever heard of a man being elected to four terms? Of course, I’d hate to have a change of leadership in the middle of the war.”
“He’ll be elected,” Laura said with confidence. She liked politics, she liked the people voting, and she liked President Roosevelt. Because he and Eddie had both had polio, she lumped them together in her mind.
She celebrated when election results were in and President Roosevelt was declared the winner. “He can lead us through the war,” Laura said. “Maybe he’ll even run a fifth time.”
CHAPTER 6
The Battle of the Bulge
Jerry’s on Guam,” Maude said on Christmas Eve afternoon. She stood at the office window and read her son’s letter out loud. When she finished, she folded the letter and held it to her heart. “Laura, let me look at that atlas again.”
Laura was glad she’d carried the atlas to the office that afternoon. They’d been looking at it last night in their apartment after the latest news report on the Battle of the Bulge. The Germans had pushed the Allied front back sixty miles, and the American death count was very high.
Once again fear held a desperate grip on Laura’s heart. Was Bruce there? Was he okay? She knew he’d been in France earlier, and it seemed logical that he would be moving on toward Germany. Last night, Dad had pointed on the map to the town of Bastogne in Belgium.
When the Germans had demanded the surrender of the town, General McAuliffe had replied, “Nuts.” Dad had said that was a gutsy thing to do, but the last news was that the town was still under siege. Was Bruce holed up there? Or was he marching toward the town to fight?
She had carried the atlas to the office so she could look at the map again. Now she opened it to the Pacific Islands and located Guam. “They must have sandy beaches and coconuts there,” Laura said. What a contrast to the intense cold and snow that the reporter from Europe had mentioned in his live report on the radio last night.
“I wish we had developed more to that code,” Maude said. “Then I could know what Jerry was doing. He mentioned nuts and bolts and the sound of the airplane engines. Maybe that’s a clue.”
“Maybe he works on airplanes,” Laura said. “Or maybe he rides in them and drops bombs.” She had a sudden image in her mind of Japanese people on the ground running from falling buildings. She shuddered and moved her finger on the map from Guam to the Philippines, where Corrine’s boyfriend had last been heard from.
“I’m sick of this war!” she exclaimed. She was stunned by her own words. They had boiled up from her heart and come out of her mouth before she could think about them. “That’s not patriotic, is it?” Laura asked. “I shouldn’t have said that.”
“I’m sick of it, too,” Maude said. “It has nothing to do with patriotism. It has to do with Christmas and peace on earth, and that’s not what we’re experiencing, is it?”
“No,” Laura said simply. She looked at the Christmas tree in the lobby. She and Eddie had decorated it with their ornaments and ones the Wakamutsus had left behind. The star at the top glistened, and colorful glass ball decorations hung from green branches. Bruce didn’t have a Christmas tree. He was probably in that dark European forest the radio news correspondent had described, shivering with the cold and wanting to be home for Christmas.
Maude had turned to stare at the tree, too. “I guess Jerry’s Christmas tree will be a palm tree. I doubt the army decorates barracks for holidays.”
“No, I don’t think soldiers have time to put up real Christmas trees,” Laura said.
With a forced note of cheerfulness in her voice, Maude said, “We miss them, but life goes on. Is everything ready for the party tonight?”
“I think so. Eddie and Gary are going to move tables out here around five. Mama didn’t want to block the hallways too soon, but she wants everything set up before Dad gets home.”
The party had been Laura’s idea, and now she wished she’d never had it. Should they celebrate at home when friends and family couldn’t be there?
“Laura, this is Christmas Eve. We have to get in a festive spirit,” Maude said.
“How can we when …?” Her voice trailed off.
“It’s time you faced your fear. What’s the worst that can happen to them?” Maude asked in a quiet voice.
“They could be killed.”
“And then what?”
“We get the telegram that tells us they’re dead.”
“Yes, but what would happen to Bruce and Jerry and the others?”
“They’d go to heaven.”
“Exactly. That wouldn’t be bad for them, now would it?”
Laura studied Maude’s eyes. In them she saw serenity and acceptance. Not the fear that was always in her own eyes.
“But what if they’re tortured or die in terrible agony?”
“We pray that God will be with them.” Maude reached inside the office window and took Laura’s hand. “You are too young to know all this fear. It doesn’t help them. It only harms you. Now, give your fear to God, and He’ll deal with it.”
Laura closed her eyes and prayed that God would take her fear away. She opened her eyes and felt peace settle on her.
“Better?” Maude said.
“Yes. Better,” Laura answered.
“Good. Whenever yo
u feel overwhelmed by fear, ask God to take it from you.”
“How come you’re so smart, Maude?”
She smiled. “Because I lived with fear too long. I’m going to find your mother and see if she needs help.”
The party was for everyone in the hotel. At seven, each person was to bring his or her own plate and silverware and one dish to share with the others. Mr. Benedetto from apartment 10 was going to bring his phonograph and some records. He mostly had classical, but Maude had some Christmas albums she was going to bring, and Ginny had said she was going to guard her new Frank Sinatra record with her life and make sure it was played over and over.
The boys set up the tables early, confiscating as many as they could from residents in nearby rooms. Every room in the hotel was filled, but some people couldn’t come to the party because of family gatherings and work shifts. Those who could make it wandered into the narrow lobby before the party officially began at seven.
Dad led the group in a prayer for the servicemen and in celebration for the birthday of Jesus. Then the merriment began. At least fifty people filled the narrow space, and all seemed to be talking at once. Even Mrs. Lind, carrying dozens of cookies, came to the dinner party.
“I’ve been saving my sugar rations,” she said, “so I could make my traditional Christmas favorites.” She pointed to each kind. “These are date pinwheels. These white ones are Mexican wedding cakes, and these are my favorite—gingersnaps.”
Laura put two cookies on her plate before she headed to the main food table loaded with chicken, potatoes cooked in a variety of ways, and lots of dishes of green beans.
Mr. Arnold struck up a conversation with Laura about his latest letter from his grandson. Because he had also used Laura’s code, he knew that Dale was in Belgium.
“He may be in that awful Battle of the Bulge right now,” Mr. Arnold said.
“Then may God be with him,” Laura said and felt peace by saying it.
He nodded. “Yes, may God be with him.”
Although several people lingered in the lobby talking, most had gone back to their own rooms by nine o’clock. Laura’s brothers returned tables to their proper owners, and the girls picked up and swept and scrubbed the lobby. The entire area was cleaned up long before it was time to leave for the midnight church service, and the air of goodwill and cheer stayed with Laura.
The church was decorated in evergreen boughs and red bows. At the front sat a manger with real people representing the characters in the Christmas story. A tiny infant played the part of the baby Jesus. This year the baby slept through the whole performance and didn’t cry once. Laura prayed for victory in Europe and in the Pacific, and for peace all over the world.
When the Edwardses returned to the hotel, they opened Christmas presents, which wasn’t their tradition, but since Dad and Margie had to be at work on Christmas morning, it seemed the best thing to do.
Along with a pocket-sized atlas and a sweater, Laura received a wooden gavel from Dad, who said he was sorry he’d ever doubted that she would be elected president. She went to bed tired, happy, and at peace for the first time in a long time.
The next day didn’t seem like Christmas since Dad and Margie were off to work before Laura got up. She and Eddie did their morning hotel chores, and that afternoon she again sat at the office while Mama worked on a Christmas feast for supper.
During the next week, news from the European front filled the papers. “What do you think of Patton’s army entering Bastogne?” Mr. Arnold asked Laura one afternoon. “Pretty good, eh?”
Laura agreed and listened to his opinion of the Battle of the Bulge. Whenever fear edged into her mind, she forced it out by asking God to take it. The fear came less often, and she was able to talk about the battles and not worry that Bruce might be fighting in them.
Just after the first of the year, Laura and Eddie were working in the office when a telegram came for Mr. Arnold. A deep foreboding enveloped Laura as she directed the delivery boy to Mr. Arnold’s room.
“I’m going with him,” Laura said. There had been too many stories told at school for her to think that a telegram meant anything but bad news.
She stood in the hallway and waited for Mr. Arnold to answer the messenger’s knock. As soon as he saw the boy’s telegraph uniform, Mr. Arnold’s face turned a sickly white. He signed on the clipboard with a shaking hand and took the telegram. He was shutting the door when he looked up and met Laura’s gaze.
“Come in,” he said in a very low voice. He handed her the telegram. “Open this, please. My hands aren’t steady.”
Laura carefully opened the envelope. The message was as she suspected, except it was from Mr. Arnold’s daughter and not the army.
“Sit down,” she said. Instead of reading it aloud, she held it so he could see it.
His hand flew to his heart, and a groan escaped his lips. “No … no … no.”
Laura found a glass and filled it with water. “Drink this, Mr. Arnold. I’m going to get my mother.”
She hated to leave him, but she didn’t know how to help him. With wings on her feet, she ran down the long hallway, around the corner, and down another hallway to the apartment.
“Mama! Mama!” she called as she opened the door. “Come quick. It’s Mr. Arnold’s grandson.”
“Dale’s here?” Mama asked.
“No! Dale’s been killed. Mr. Arnold needs you.”
Mama dropped her mending and followed Laura back down the hallways to Mr. Arnold’s room. He sat exactly where he had been when Laura had left him, only now his head was bowed and tears dripped onto his white shirt.
“I’m so sorry,” Mama said. She picked up the telegram and read it. “Let’s call your daughter from the office phone. She’ll want to know that you received the news about Dale and that you’re with friends. She’ll need your support, Mr. Arnold.”
Laura carried Mr. Arnold’s address book and held on to his arm as he walked between her and Mama down the hall.
“What’s all the …?” Mrs. Lind had opened her door, looked at them, and then said, “Dale?”
Laura nodded, and Mrs. Lind backed into her room and shut the door.
By the time Eddie had moved out of the way and Mama had Mr. Arnold seated in the office chair, Mrs. Lind stood at the office window, holding out a cup of hot tea.
“I already gave him water,” Laura said.
“He needs a good strong cup of tea,” Mrs. Lind said and handed the cup through the window. Mr. Arnold took a sip and then drained the cup and took a deep breath. His color looked a little better.
Laura held Mr. Arnold’s hand, or rather he held hers, in a tight grip. Mama talked to the operator and gave the number for the long-distance call.
As soon as she had Dale’s mother on the line, Mama handed the phone to Mr. Arnold.
“Let’s give him some privacy, kids,” Mama said. Eddie and Laura edged around Mr. Arnold in the close quarters and followed Mama out the office door.
“The poor man,” Mrs. Lind said. “He thought the sun rose and set on that grandson of his.”
“Dale was always good about writing Mr. Arnold,” Mama said. “I wonder where he was killed.”
“Mrs. Edwards?” Mr. Arnold called from the office. Mama went inside while Laura and Eddie sat on the lobby couch by Mrs. Lind. A few minutes later Mama and Mr. Arnold came out of the office.
“Laura, will you take Mr. Arnold back to his room?” Mama asked. “I have some calls to make.”
Laura and Eddie escorted Mr. Arnold down the hall, with Mrs. Lind leading the way. Once he was propped in his favorite upholstered chair, Mr. Arnold told them about Dale, who had been killed on December 17—the second day of the Battle of the Bulge. “And we’re just now finding out,” he said. “He’s been gone nearly two weeks, and we’re just now finding out.”
“Dale’s a war hero,” Eddie said.
“Yes, he is. He is,” Mr. Arnold said.
They shared memories about Dale, although
Laura and Eddie had never met him. Laura looked at the framed photograph of Dale that Mrs. Lind held and remembered the stories Mr. Arnold had told her about this special young man.
A knock sounded on the door. Laura answered it and ushered Mama and Maude inside.
“Your train leaves in two hours,” Mama said. “Your daughter will pick you up in Albuquerque tomorrow afternoon. We’ll help him get around, kids, so you can go back to the office.”
Supper was delayed while Mama and Maude took Mr. Arnold to the train station. “I hated leaving him alone on the train,” Mama said. “But the conductor was looking after him. He needs to be with family.”
“Did Mr. Arnold have the money for a trip?” Laura asked. From time to time he’d let slip that money was tight.
Mama glanced at Dad before she said, “Sometimes others step in when a friend needs help. Mr. Arnold needed to be with his family.”
“I’m glad you helped him,” Laura said. That night before she went to bed, she asked God to help Mr. Arnold, and she thanked Him that they hadn’t received a telegram about Bruce.
CHAPTER 7
The Wakamutsus Return
Eddie’s limp was barely noticeable as he, Kenny, Yvonne, and Laura walked home from school on a damp January afternoon. Their discussion centered on the war-stamp sales, which were going well.
“At the end of the month, we’ll do another count,” Laura said. Her room and Eddie’s room were both in the blue ribbon group on the sales chart. “My room may take over the lead by itself.”
“Maybe, maybe not,” Yvonne said. “Our room has a new plan to get more sales.”
Laura raised her eyebrows. Eddie hadn’t said anything about it, and he eventually told her everything, even if he tried to keep a secret.
They arrived at the hotel, and the group split up. As Laura and Eddie climbed up to the lobby, she asked him about the new plan.
Eddie didn’t answer. Instead he stared at the office.
“Eddie?” Laura turned to look at what had him so fascinated, and her mouth dropped open in shock.
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