Almost Home

by Valerie Fraser Luesse

  “Did you peek?” she asked.

  “Absolutely,” he said. “Are you touching bottom?”

  “Barely—another step and I’ll be swimming.”

  “Remember how to swirl?” He held his arms out with his palms up.

  Anna smiled and laid her arms over his. They held on to each other, both of them laughing as he pulled her through the water in a circle around him.

  “Think your pirate and his lady ever did this?”

  “I hope so,” Anna said. “I’d hate to think Catherine missed out on it.”

  Jesse stopped, but they kept holding on to each other, still at arm’s length. “Anna,” he finally said, “I’ve been such a—I mean, I’ve thrown away so much of our time together—I’m so sorry for the way . . .”

  “I don’t want you to be sorry,” she said. “I just want you to let me back in. It’s so lonely out here without you, Jesse.”

  He pulled her to him and held her close as she buried her face in the curve of his neck and released a year’s worth of sadness. He stroked her back and her long, wet hair, letting her cry all of their hard times into a sunlit pool deep in the Alabama woods.

  As Anna’s tears subsided, Jesse’s hands were no longer comforting but reclaiming. The waters of the slough reflected a kiss, long and deep, before Jesse carried Anna to her mother’s quilt and the two of them let the tall pines drink in their kisses and sighs and whispers.

  May 1, 1944

  Dear Violet,

  It sure was good to get your letter yesterday. I was so happy to hear from you that I made up my mind to get up extra early this morning while the house is quiet and write you back.

  Vi, you just don’t know what your encouraging words meant to me. You always know exactly what to say to make me think I might not be losing my marbles after all.

  You won’t believe who stopped by yesterday—Vern Ingram. Him and Si’s always been like brothers. I know they miss one another now that they live so far apart. Remember Vern and Ouida’s boy, Reed? He had those beautiful eyes? Well, Vi, he’s all grown up and been through a terrible ordeal in the war. Near about lost his leg and can’t hardly walk. Has awful nightmares and keeps to himself all the time. Can’t get his mind settled after all he’s been through. Vern said Reed wants to come back to the loop. Says he’s just not adjusting with his family all around him, and he never did take to north Alabama—remember they moved up there when Ouida inherited that farm? So he’s coming to stay with us. He was such a sweet little thing when he was a child. And such a comfort to me after we lost our precious Samuel. Pray for me, Vi—pray that I’ll know how to help this lost boy.

  On to happier news. I’m tickled to death that y’all have found you a church and made some nice friends. And Vi, friends are everything when you’re away from family. I’m more convinced of that every day. You know that young couple from Illinois I wrote you about? Well, they turned out to be good people. She’s just a dear little thing named Anna. Her husband, Jesse, came here with a chip the size of all creation on his shoulder. But Si’s working on him, and Jesse’s coming around. He’s a good boy. Just had his pride shot to pieces by the same hard times that forced us to turn Little Mama’s house into a hotel.

  Anna has got to be friends with Daisy Dupree. I told you about Daisy—the one that’s done lost her husband to the war, bless her heart. I see a real special friendship between those girls. They remind me of us way back when. They’ve both got all excited about that ol’ pirate tale you and me used to love so much—Anna especially. I can’t figure out why it’s so important to her to find out about our Catherine and Andre, but it passes the time and gives us something to talk about. You know me, I’m always happy for something to talk about.

  We’ve all gone to really liking that college professor from Chicago—Evelyn. Now, Vi, would you ever in a million years have thought your sister would be friends with a college professor? I sure appreciate the way she reins in her education so the rest of us don’t feel so stupid. That must take a lot out of her.

  Oh! Si got rid of that awful couple from Reno. I can’t begin to tell you that story on paper, so you’ll just have to come home on the Fourth and hear all about it.

  One last thing. I know I cried like a teething toddler when you left for Georgia. And no matter how many friends I make, there’s nobody can ever fill your shoes. But you’ve got to live your own life, honey. I see that now, watching Daisy and Anna try to find their way without their families. And I just want you to know that as long as you’re happy, I’m happy. Be happy over there in Georgia, precious Violet.

  Kiss the young’uns for me and give Wiley a hug.

  Your loving sister,

  Dolly

  CHAPTER

  thirteen

  “Guess we better get one of these beds moved down,” Anna said. “Which one, do you think?”

  Daisy surveyed their options. “Those old iron beds always squeak. And they weigh a ton. What about that kinda plain cherry one over there? That looks like somethin’ a man would like—and somethin’ we could carry without killin’ ourselves.”

  The two of them carried first the headboard, then the footboard, and finally all the pieces of the frame down the attic steps. Si had already moved the mattress and had it airing in the sun, as Dolly requested.

  “Oh, this is really pretty,” Anna said when they finally had the bed down and could see it better in the light. She got some polish and dust rags from beneath Dolly’s sink, and she and Daisy cleaned the bed from top to bottom. Then they went to find Dolly and report their progress.

  They abruptly stopped in the doorway of an empty bedroom in the back corner of the house, right behind Si and Dolly’s room. The only furniture it held was a rocking chair by a tall window. Dolly was sitting in the rocker, blotting her eyes with an embroidered handkerchief. Anna and Daisy looked at each other before Daisy went straight to Dolly and knelt down by the rocker.

  “You okay, Dolly?” Daisy asked.

  Looking down at her, Dolly forced a smile and nodded.

  “You ain’t gotta pretend with us,” Daisy said as Anna came over and knelt down on the opposite side of Dolly’s chair.

  “I thought I was past it after all these years,” Dolly said as she began to cry.

  Daisy took her hand. “Anna and Jesse stumbled onto the little headstone with the lamb. This used to be a nursery, didn’t it?”

  Dolly sniffed and nodded.

  “Dolly, I’m so sorry,” Anna said.

  “Look, I don’t know if I’ll ever have babies,” Daisy said, “but if I do, I’ll be a better mother because o’ you. You mother all of us, Dolly. It’s just that, well, your babies all drive, and some of ’em have steady jobs.”

  Now Dolly was laughing and crying at the same time. She reached down and hugged both Anna and Daisy. “Y’all are just so precious to me,” she said as she tried to regain her composure.

  “Dolly, are you sure you want to put Reed in this room?” Anna asked. “If you’re worried about the rest of us upstairs, we can handle it fine. We could help you fix up the Clanahans’ old room so it’s not so drafty, and he could stay up there with the rest of us.”

  Dolly dried her face with the handkerchief and shook her head. “Thank you, honey, but no. I can’t explain it, but sometimes this ol’ house speaks to me. I know that sounds crazy. But it’s tellin’ me that Reed needs this room—this one in particular—just as surely as it told me that you and Jesse needed mine and Violet’s. Reed was always such a sweet and lovin’ boy. If it wasn’t for him runnin’ in and outta my kitchen back then . . . The thought of a child like that bein’ thrown into somethin’ so horrifyin’ that it disturbed his young mind—well, it just breaks my heart. He might think he wants to be all alone, but I don’t believe that. I mean to keep him close—close as I would my own—well, you know.”

  “Then me and Anna will get to it,” Daisy said.

  “Thank you, girls. I don’t know what I’d do without you.”


  “Good luck gettin’ rid of us,” Daisy said, which made everybody laugh.

  “Dolly, that door on the back wall—it looks new,” Anna said.

  “It is. I had Si put it in. And I’ve asked him to build a little screened-in porch off the back—nothin’ fancy, just big enough to hold a rocker and a twin bed. I thought it might help Reed to have a little outside space of his own and a private way in and outta the house.”

  “You always think of everything and everybody.” Anna patted Dolly’s hand.

  “You’re mighty thoughtful yourself, honey—both o’ you girls.”

  “What you need us to do next?” Daisy asked. “If you don’t mind my sayin’, this room might need a little paint touch-up.”

  “Sweetheart, that’s like sayin’ Si’s ol’ tractor needs a little engine tune-up.”

  Daisy looked around the room. “Why don’t you just let me and Anna make this our project?”

  “That’s a great idea!” Anna agreed. “You won’t even have to come in here till it’s ready.”

  Dolly smoothed the handkerchief across her lap. “You girls are mighty kind. Do you think you could make it look . . . completely different? I think that might help.”

  “Done,” Daisy said as Dolly slowly folded the handkerchief into a neat square.

  “You girls fix Reed a nice room, and I’ll cook him some good food, and we’ll just hope Little Mama’s house can put him right.”

  CHAPTER

  fourteen

  Si and Dolly were sitting in their porch swing, enjoying a Sunday afternoon breeze, when a black Ford pickup came slowly around the loop and pulled into their driveway. As the truck door opened and a tall young man with a walking cane stepped out, they went to greet him.

  “Last time I saw you, son, you were a couple o’ feet shorter,” Si said as he shook Reed’s free hand. “And you didn’t have all them muscles. It’s mighty good to see you.”

  “Thank you, Mr. Chandler.”

  “None o’ that. You’re all grown up. We’re just plain ol’ Si and Dolly.”

  Dolly took Reed’s hand and held it between hers. “You prob’ly don’t remember me, but I remember you,” she said. “I always thought you had the prettiest eyes I’d ’bout ever seen on a child—and you still do.”

  “They’ve seen a lot.” Reed looked down, as if he needed to protect Dolly from his wartime visions.

  “We know, honey. And if you decide you want to talk about any of it, we’re right here. But if you don’t, ain’t nobody in this house gonna push you.”

  “I ’preciate that.”

  “You go on in with Dolly, and I’ll grab your suitcase,” Si said.

  “I can carry it,” Reed said.

  “I know you can, but I’m hopin’ you’ll let an ol’ fella show off for his best girl.”

  Reed smiled. “Okay. Go on and show off for Miss Dolly.”

  He took a duffle bag from the truck seat and let Si carry his larger suitcase. Dolly led him to his room, with Si following close behind.

  “I’ll let Dolly get you settled,” Si said as he set the suitcase at the foot of Reed’s bed. “Whenever you like, you and me can dip a line or light a pipe and have us a good visit.”

  “I’d enjoy that. And thank you.”

  Si patted the young vet on the back. “We’re the ones oughta be thankin’ you. Get yourself comfortable and we’ll talk later on.”

  Dolly sat down on the edge of the bed next to Reed, who was surveying his room. “I figured I’d be upstairs with your other boarders,” he said.

  “You’re not just another boarder. You’re like family to us. I thought you might be more comfortable here, where you’ve got your own door in and outta the house right there.” She pointed to the new door. “There’s a little porch if you want some fresh air and outside space to yourself. But I think once you get to know ever’body here, you’ll feel right at home with ’em. And if you decide you’d be happier upstairs, there’s still an empty room up there.”

  Reed took another look around and gestured to the new door. “Y’all put that in just for me?”

  Dolly nodded. “We figured there’d be times when you wanted comp’ny and times when you didn’t.”

  He gazed at her for a moment and then squinted slightly. “You used to cut me two or three pieces o’ your chocolate cake even though I only ate the icin’. You let me scrape off all the chocolate I wanted, without eatin’ a bite o’ the cake.”

  Dolly clapped her hands together and laughed. “I can’t believe you remember my chocolate cake!”

  “Why’d you do that—let me scrape off the icin’, I mean?”

  “Because you dearly loved it, and I didn’t see any reason to make a sweet child like you eat somethin’ you didn’t want just to get somethin’ you did want.”

  “What’d you do with the cake—once I had scraped it clean, I mean?”

  Dolly leaned toward Reed like a conspirator passing state secrets. “Fed it to Si’s huntin’ dog. Ol’ Blue gained a few pounds every time you came over.”

  Reed smiled and reached into his shirt pocket. “I need to pay you my rent.”

  “You don’t owe us a thing. We’re tickled to have you.”

  “I ’preciate that, but I can’t stay if you won’t let me pay my way.”

  “Well, alright then.” She took his rent money and stood up to go. “I reckon I need to get out o’ your way and let you unpack.”

  “Don’t go—I mean, don’t feel like you have to go.”

  Dolly sat back down with him. “If you remember my chocolate cake, what else do you remember about this ol’ place?”

  The room was quiet while he thought about it. “I remember a creek and a pretty pond—way back in the woods?”

  Dolly smiled. “That’s right. The Tanyard Creek is right behind the lake—that’s how we filled it up, by pumpin’ creek water into a big hole Si dug. And the pond you’re thinkin’ about is the slough offa the Tanyard. Si and your daddy used to carry you fishin’ there all summer long.”

  Reed thought again for a minute. “Still got my sword?”

  Dolly reached under the bed and pulled out a small toy sword made from a piece of broom handle painted silver, with a homemade hilt. “Aye, Cap’n Chauvin,” she said.

  “I can’t believe this.” Reed shook his head as he took the sword and held it like a precious artifact that might disintegrate before his eyes. “Hard to believe my hands were ever small enough to do battle with a sword this size.”

  “I never saw a young’un take to that ol’ pirate story the way you did,” Dolly said. “You spent many a rainy day up in my attic, capturin’ enemy ships and pilin’ up loot.”

  “Didn’t you rig me up a treasure chest?”

  “Oh, I’d forgot about that! We took the little trunk I had when I was a child and stuffed most of it with a blanket. Then we piled some ol’ costume jewelry and silver-plate dishes on top of it. You’d always bring me a present from your treasure chest when your ship docked in the attic.”

  Reed smiled. “Sorry you had to act excited when I gave you back your own stuff—and I’m sorry I never found the real treasure.”

  “That’s okay, honey. You just keep lookin’. No better way to pass a rainy day than lookin’ for lost treasure.”

  Reed studied Dolly’s face like a road map back to his childhood. “You doctored my knee when I fell offa my bike in front o’ your house.”

  “Oh, that was a bad, bad tumble you took.” Dolly shook her head at the memory of all that blood on a child’s leg. “I was worried your mama might have to carry you on to the doctor, but you healed up.”

  “That was a long time ago.”

  “Yes, son, it was. But you can still mend. You’ve just got some deeper cuts this time, and they’re gonna take a while.”

  “What if they never get better?”

  “I won’t believe that. I’ve got faith in the Lord, and I’ve got faith in you.”

  “I’m doin’ my best. Bu
t I don’t seem to be gettin’ anywhere. You promise you’ll let me know if I get to be a burden so I won’t ruin everything here?”

  “You’re not gonna ruin a thing. Just give ’em a chance, Reed. They’re all real good people. And I know you’ve been keepin’ to yourself quite a bit since you got back, but that’s not good for you, honey—not all the time anyhow. I think I maybe understand why you couldn’t go home. If I was your mama, I might want so badly to get back the boy they took from me that I’d put all kinda pressure on you to get well—without even meanin’ to. I know you can’t be that boy I used to know, but you can be a good man—and a happy one.”

  Reed stared at the floor. “Hope so.”

  “Would you like to have supper with the rest of us tonight? Most nights I cook and we eat at the table, and then whoever’s here for lunch gets a sandwich. But on Sundays I flip that around because I think ever’body ought to have a nice family dinner after church, so we break out the sandwich bread on Sunday nights.”

  “I think I might need to just get my bearin’s tonight, if that’s okay?”

  “’Course it is. I’ll bring you somethin’ at six unless you’re hungry now?”

  “No, ma’am—six’ll be just fine. And thank you. I’ll get myself to the table in the mornin’.”

  “We eat breakfast at six too, but now, if you change your mind and don’t show up, I’ll fix you a plate. Nobody’s gonna hurry you, honey.”

  “Thank you—for everything. And if you’d do me one more favor—could you ask Si to keep his gun cabinet locked? Sometimes those flashbacks . . . well, they’re awful real, and I just don’t wanna take a chance . . .”

  Dolly nodded as she reached over and wrapped her hands around his. “Are you too grown to hug?”

  “No, ma’am.”

  They put their arms around each other and held on, just as they had so many times when he was a child, shyly peeking into her kitchen in search of chocolate cake.

  Reed stepped off the porch Si had built for him and looked around. It was all coming back—the way his footsteps echoed on the wood floors of the old house with its towering ceilings, the sound of a breeze stirring the pecan trees, the sense of security he had always felt on this old loop. He was twelve when they moved away, and he had never felt at home anywhere but here. Even when he was overseas, he longed for his family and an escape from the horrors engulfing him, but not for the farm his mother had inherited, a place where he had always felt like an alien.