Kate bowed her head and said a prayer as President Nixon’s face flashed on the screen.
“Did you hear that?” she said ten minutes later. “We’re going to sign a peace treaty on January twenty-seventh. That’s just four days from now. The first group of POWs will be home in two weeks. Two weeks, Della! By March they’ll all be home. Patrick will be home then, won’t he? God, he has to be with them!”
“Kate, Captain Starr isn’t listed as a POW,” Donald said quietly. “He’s listed as Missing.”
“He’s missing over there. If he’s in hiding in the ... jungle or something, he’ll come out. Are you saying he won’t . . . that he won’t be with the POWs?”
“I’m saying I don’t know,” Donald said.
“I’m not going to work or to class tomorrow. I’m going to call everyone in the world if I have to. He’s there, he has to come home with the others. He just has to.”
Captain Patrick Starr did not come out in the first group, the second group, or the third group. When President Nixon said, “There are no more prisoners in Vietnam,” two things happened. Kate collapsed, and eight-year-old Betsy verbally attacked her mother.
“You lied! You said Daddy was coming home!” she screeched. “You lied to me. You’re a liar. Daddy hates liars!”
Della and Donald closed in protectively and coddled the little family that was torn apart once again. It was Donald who insisted a therapist be called in for both Kate and Betsy. With gentle pushing and prodding from Della, Donald, and the therapist, Kate was able to finish the semester and graduate with honors. Her job was put on hold until, as her boss put it, she got her shit together.
CHAPTER SIX
It was early, that gray time of morning when the night relinquished its hold on the day. Soon the sun would creep to the horizon, and according to the weatherman, the day would be sunny and golden—perfect for an outdoor birthday party.
Kate shuddered beneath her warm flannel robe and sipped her lukewarm coffee. This year she’d hoped to avoid celebrating Patrick’s birthday, but the girls wouldn’t allow it, so today was going to be like the other nine birthdays they’d celebrated in the past. Of course “celebrated” was hardly the right word. They all cried, Donald and Della, herself and the girls. Tears rolling down their cheeks, they thumbed through the well-worn photo album, reread all the tattered letters, and then toasted Patrick with tall, frosty glasses of root beer. Those last few minutes of the party, signaling an end to the ritual until next year, were the best for Kate.
Ten years. Five hundred twenty weeks. Three thousand, six hundred, and fifty days. When Betsy had given her the numbers last night, she’d stared blankly at the paper, wanting to make some comment that would ease the misery in her oldest daughter’s eyes, but the words wouldn’t surface. All she’d managed was, “Ten years is a very long time. I don’t think Daddy wants us to live on memories. We have to get on with our lives. That doesn’t mean I’m giving up or that I will stop believing he’ll return someday. It means I’m being realistic, and you must be, too. It’s not healthy for us to live in the past.”
Then, seeing the stubborn set of Betsy’s shoulders, she’d sighed and added, “We’ll have the party today, but this is the last one. It is simply too painful for me to go through the anxiety each year as we prepare. It can’t be good for you or Ellie, either.”
A tear dripped into Kate’s coffee mug. From the Joshua tree she heard a bird chirp its morning greeting. “Good morning,” she said softly. Suddenly it was important to see the bird that chirped its greeting to her every morning. In her bare feet she ran down the porch steps and around to the front of the house. She knew the nest was high in the tree, and for one crazy moment she thought about climbing up. She might have attempted it, too, if she hadn’t heard Della’s chattering voice and turned to see her friends coming down the sidewalk. She waited as Della pushed Donald’s wheelchair onto the walkway, feeling silly now that she’d almost given in to her impulse.
“Kate, you look like you’re thinking about climbing old Josh here,” Donald said, gesturing to the tree. “My boy did it on several occasions and broke his collarbone and then his ankle. That nest has been there for years. If there was one thing I could always count on in those lonely days after his death, it was those birds singing to me in the morning. Right cheerful sound, but now Della’s voice is all I need. You need to find another voice, Kate. And the sooner the better.”
Kate smiled. Donald and Della could always wash away her anxiety. She bent over to kiss Donald’s weathered cheek. “I’m working on it.” She winked at Della, then ruffled the springy tufts of white hair that protruded from Donald’s Mets baseball cap. “Is today a good day, Donald?”
The old man flexed his hands, trying to unbend his crippled fingers. “The hot wax helps some. The pills help a little. Della’s kisses help the most,” he said, chuckling.
“The flowers are so pretty this morning. I think we had some rain during the night,” Della said cheerfully. “I’m always amazed at this garden or border or whatever it is Betsy calls it. Just the other day I was talking to a lady at the grocery store, and somehow or other this garden came up in conversation. She said she brings people by just to look at it. She said it was a whole rainbow. Betsy’s sixteen—I would have thought by now she’d have outgrown this garden.”
“Never! She works so hard on it. And each year she uses her allowance to add more seeds. I think the colors are more vibrant this year, don’t you? All so she can preserve her . . . father’s rainbow.” Kate sighed. “Still, Dr. Tennison says it’s all right for her to be doing this. Enough of this talk—let’s go in and have breakfast. I opt for waffles and blueberries. Donald, what’s your choice?”
“Whatever this fine woman makes is okay with me. I’d eat sawdust if she put it on my plate.” He would, too, Kate thought fondly as she led the way inside.
“Have you made a decision yet about this evening?” Della asked slyly, her back to Kate.
“Yes, I’m going. I ... I haven’t told the girls yet. I can’t believe I’m such a coward, but do you know, I actually called Dr. Tennison to ask if it was okay to go to dinner with a man. Betsy is going to throw a fit. I can’t believe I forgot it was Patrick’s birthday when I made the date,” Kate said, her eyes wild. “Charlie is ... he’s very nice . . . but it’s not serious or anything like that—” She broke off and clutched Della’s arm. “Oh, God, what if Betsy carries on? What will I do? Maybe this wasn’t such a good idea after all.”
“Keep this up and you’ll talk yourself right out of it,” Della said sourly. “You need to have a life of your own. And you need to stop going to bed at eight-thirty at night.”
“Listen to her, Kate,” Donald said. “She always makes good sense. I say you should go. We’ll be here to baby-sit and to wait up for you just like parents.”
“What are you going to wear?” asked the ever-practical Della. “Where are you having dinner?”
“I thought I’d wear my navy-blue and white, and I said I’d like to go to Stefano’s. I did mention the Jade Garden, but Charlie said he was partial to Italian food, so it’s Stefano’s. It’s simply a dinner invitation, nothing more. Charlie isn’t my type. We’re friends, nothing more.”
“Time—”
“No, Della, time will not change anything. Patrick is—was—is the only man I’ll ever love. No amount of dinner dates is going to change that.”
Della snorted, a very unladylike sound. She turned, hands on her ample hips. “You are much too pretty, much too vital, to tie yourself to a memory. A ghost. That’s what Patrick is now, Kate. It’s time to give life a chance. If you don’t start getting out and about, you’re going to die on the vine.”
Kate sat down at the table with a fresh cup of coffee. “I know you’re right,” she said, sighing. “It’s just that I feel so disloyal, so ... sneaky. If Patrick comes back and finds out, what will that make me in his eyes?”
“Kate, it is unlikely Patrick will come back. I
t’s been ten years. You have to face reality. Hoping is one thing, living on that hope is something else. If Patrick does come back, you’ll deal with it then. How many waffles?” Della asked briskly.
Kate smiled. “Three.”
“Four for me,” Donald spoke up.
“All right, Della, I’ll tell them at breakfast,” Kate said. Della nodded. Donald reached over to pat her hand.
“Morning, Mom,” Ellie said, bounding into the kitchen and leaning over to kiss her mother. “Oh, waffles! I’ll have six, Della. What are you going to tell us at breakfast?” She took her place at the table next to Donald and without missing a beat said, “And you’re looking dapper and sexy this morning, Donald.”
“I know,” Donald said seriously. “Women just flock to me. But I’m a one-woman man.”
“See that it stays that way,” Della groused. She slipped four waffles on his plate and drizzled warm butter and syrup on top.
Ellie cut up the waffles for him. “Nobody answered my question,” she said.
How pretty she is, Kate thought.
Ellie would be fifteen in another few months. Lively and outgoing, she had laughing blue eyes and a smile that stretched from ear to ear. She wore her hair in a high, pulled-back ponytail that swished when she walked. She claimed to be irresistible to the opposite sex, and Kate had to believe her, given the endless parade of boys who stopped by on a regular basis. Ellie was a B student at school, whereas Betsy was a straight A student. There was very little that Ellie took seriously except Betsy’s garden.
“Tell us what?” she said now for the third time.
“I was going to wait till Betsy came down, but if you absolutely must know now,” Kate said lightly, “I’ll tell you. I have a dinner date this evening.”
“Jeez! With who? Is he good-looking? Do we know him? Where’d you meet him? What time will you be home?”
“His name is Charlie Clark. He’s a friend. I met him at work. We’re going to Stefano’s, and I’ll be home early. Della and Donald will stay here until I get back. Any more questions?”
“Yeah. Does this mean the party is off?”
“We’re going to do it at two o’clock.”
“Aw, Mom, the gang is going roller-skating this afternoon. Look, I thought we agreed not to do the party thing anymore. Can I skip it? Please, Mom.”
Kate wondered why she hadn’t expected this. She shrugged. “It’s your decision, Ellie. But Betsy will be disappointed.”
“Well, I’m sorry, but I can’t help it. It’s the way I feel. Look, I hope I’m wrong and he does walk through the door someday. For Betsy’s sake. But I can hardly remember what he looks like. I know you’re doing the party for Betsy. But you know what? It’s time Betsy grew up and became realistic. You coddle her too much. Scratch this party and let’s get on with it.”
“Betsy needs—”
“No, Mom, Betsy doesn’t need this. It’s just her way of getting attention. You give in to her on everything. She has no friends. She keeps writing those stupid letters she never mails. All she talks about is when Dad comes home and the things they’re going to do. It doesn’t help to keep having these parties.”
“Just this one last—”
“No. Not for me. You said the same thing last year and the year before that. I absolutely refuse to do it anymore. What’s the point?”
Kate sighed. “All right, Ellie, I understand how and why you feel the way you do. I want you to go with your friends today and enjoy yourself. After this party there won’t be any more. Now eat your breakfast.”
“Mom,” Ellie said, picking up her fork, “can I have my own room and my own phone if I pay for it with my baby-sitting money?”
Kate smiled. Nothing kept Ellie down for long. “Donald and I have already been discussing how we can make room for you. He’s suggested we take out the linen closet and the hall closet and take three feet from Betsy’s room. It’ll be a small room, though. Very small. And when you show me you have enough money for the phone installation and enough for three months of bills, we’ll discuss giving you your own phone.”
“Thanks, Mom. Donald, you’re the best. You, too, Della,” Ellie said, getting up and planting kisses on all three of them. “I don’t care how small the room is. All I need is a bed and my dresser. And a door with a lock so nosy Betsy can’t sneak up on me. Can you do that, Donald?”
“You drive a hard deal, little girl,” Donald said, flashing his widest grin. “A door with a lock. A girl needs her privacy, Della says.”
“I wish we had a rec room,” Ellie said from the doorway.
“Don’t push it, Ellie,” Kate said.
“What’s she whining about now?” Betsy said, brushing her way past her sister. She was dressed, her hair combed, her teeth brushed. Her bed would be made, her half of the room tidy. She took being a military brat seriously.
“She wants her own room. Donald has agreed to knock out the closets and take three feet from your room. It shouldn’t be too much of a job. Would you like some waffles, Betsy?”
“Two will be fine. When are you baking the cake, Mother?”
“I’m not. I have a lot of work to catch up on. I had to bring it home this weekend, so we moved the party up to two o’clock. Ellie won’t be here. I bought some cupcakes and the root beer. I won’t be here for dinner this evening. I’m having dinner with a friend.”
“Did you at least get a card?” Betsy asked snidely.
“No, as a matter of fact, I didn’t. I’m not buying cards anymore, or presents. I’m willing to toast your father’s birthday this one last time, but it’s been ten years, Betsy. Time to let go.”
Betsy fixed her narrow gaze on Della and Donald. “Do you feel the same way as Mother?” They both nodded. “Is your dinner date with a man?” Betsy said to her mother.
“Yes, but he’s a friend, nothing more.”
“I can see how this would be a good time for something like that,” Betsy said. “Well, you’re all wrong. Dad is coming back. He promised, and he’s never broken a promise to me.”
“Betsy, we haven’t heard a thing in ten years. We need to get on with our lives. Do you want to keep going to Dr. Tennison for the rest of your life?”
“I’m not going anymore, and I want to become a Catholic. Catholic people pray to Saint Jude for helpless and hopeless causes. You can’t stop me.”
“I won’t try,” Kate said sadly. “However, I wouldn’t close the door with Dr. Tennison.”
“Well, I am. I only went to please you. All he does is talk about how we have to look at the world realistically. I know what he’s going to say before he says it. I think we should forget the party since everyone is so opposed to it. I’ll have my own out in the garden. Don’t worry about me, Mother, I have things under control.”
Kate stared across the table at her daughter. Where Ellie was pretty and wholesome, Betsy was downright beautiful, with big warm brown eyes and thick lashes. Her dark hair, so like Patrick’s, was curly, falling in lustrous waves about her shoulders. And she was so much like Patrick, it was scary at times.
“If that’s what you want,” Kate said quietly.
Betsy pushed her plate away. “The waffles were good, Della.” On her feet, she towered over Kate. “I hope you have a miserable time this evening. You’re cheating on Daddy, and that makes you a tramp.”
“Young lady,” Kate said, reaching for her arm, “don’t you ever, ever talk to me like that again. You apologize to me now or you will find yourself sitting in this kitchen until you do.”
Betsy’s eyes ricocheted around the kitchen, took in Della’s stunned expression, the disappointed look on Donald’s face, the anger on her mother’s face. “I’m sorry,” she said, and ran from the room.
Kate sighed wearily. “I suppose this all is my fault,” she said. “In the beginning I tried to keep him alive for all of us with the letters, the gifts, the parties. I let it get out of hand.”
“Then why isn’t Ellie reacting the same way?�
�� Donald said quietly. “It’s not your fault.”
“Then how did she get like this? For God’s sake, there’s only a year and a half between them! Betsy took this all so seriously, yet Ellie . . .”
“It’s not your fault, Kate,” Della said firmly. “You can’t do more than you’ve already done. The rest is up to Betsy. If you give in to her and keep on with this nonsense, you’ll make yourself sick.”
“My God, Della, she called me a tramp. Me, her mother.”
“She didn’t mean it. You have to put it out of your mind. Tomorrow, when she’s had time to think things over, she’ll come to you and give you a real apology.”
“No, she won’t. This to her is the ultimate betrayal. And the funny thing is, it’s simply a dinner with a friend who just happens to be a male. I guess I’ll just have to live with it.”
“Guess so.” Della smiled.
“She is a smart woman,” Donald said cheerfully. “If I wasn’t all crippled up with this dad-blang arthritis, I’d waltz you two fine-looking ladies around the room.”
“And we’d both be tripping over our feet. Patrick didn’t like to dance, so I never learned. In the scheme of things it didn’t seem important. One of these days I just might take lessons.” She was relieved to see smiles on her friends’ faces. If she was lucky, she could go about her business and not think about Betsy’s stinging remark.
Oh, Patrick, I tried so hard. I want to believe, but it seems so hopeless. I can’t believe you’d want us to mourn and grieve forever. I’ll never marry again, that much I do promise. We both agreed to that, remember? Where are you? Do you think of us? Are you alive, Patrick?
The sun was high in the sky when Betsy, freshly showered for the second time in the day, stepped into the garden, carrying her gift-wrapped present on a tray along with a glass of root beer and a cake she’d picked up at the bakery, topped with ten candles. Her first trip out she’d carried her portable phonograph, writing tablet, and a pen and lap blanket.
Tears pooled in her eyes when she spread the blanket. Her hands were trembling and she felt light-headed. She hadn’t expected her mother’s declaration. Sooner or later she knew Ellie would balk, but her mother . . .
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