Almost Home

by Valerie Fraser Luesse

  “What’s the hardest part o’ comin’ back?” she asked, something no one else had ever thought to consider. They always wanted to know what it was like over there.

  He thought it over. “Tryin’ to hide it,” he said. “I think I could live with the nightmares if I knew I wouldn’t wake up screamin’ and scare Si and Dolly to death. And I could handle the flashbacks if they didn’t shut my brain down and make everybody around me feel so uncomfortable. It’s not just dealin’ with the war. It’s knowin’ that everybody around me has to deal with me dealin’ with the war. I feel like I’m under a microscope even when nobody’s payin’ me any mind.”

  “I follow that,” Daisy said. “For what it’s worth, the creek’s a good place to hide from the microscope.”

  “Good to know.”

  “You can’t control what you remember, Reed—or when you’re gonna remember it. Other people oughta be able to understand that. I know everybody at Dolly’s house does. Anybody that treats you like you’re crazy just because you’re havin’ a hard time makin’ the switch from combat to Sunday school—they ain’t worth spit, so don’t worry about ’em.”

  “Does Mama know you say things like ‘ain’t worth spit’?”

  Daisy laughed. “No, she don’t, and if you tell her, I’ll swear you’re lyin’.”

  They were quiet again before he said, “You wanna go somewhere?”

  Reed pulled into a high mountain overlook and came around to open Daisy’s door.

  “Dang,” she said. “Never saw anything like this before.”

  “Never had Sunday dinner on a mountain?”

  “Never even seen a mountain till I moved here.”

  He grabbed the picnic basket they had packed and one of Dolly’s “everyday quilts”—that’s what she called the ones that were old enough and worn enough to be used outside.

  “Where are we?” Daisy asked as they spread the quilt on a gently sloping, shady spot.

  “Hick’ry Mountain. Daddy used to bring me campin’ up here when I was little. That’s the Cahaba River down there. If it was nighttime, you could see a glow from the lights o’ Birmingham over that ridge.”

  “You need help?” Daisy asked.

  “Nope, thanks to you.” Reed could now bend his knee enough to sit down without propping himself on anything. They unwrapped leftover fried chicken and white bread that they had found in Dolly’s kitchen. Reed opened the Cokes they had bought at the only filling station that was open along the way.

  He watched as Daisy took in the view—Appalachian foothills against a blue summer sky, the river way down below, and sweeps of green in between. Yellow wildflowers painted the rolling landscape.

  “It’s so beautiful,” she said.

  “At night, it’s just as pretty. You can see a million stars, and it’s real quiet. You said you’d never seen a mountain in Mississippi, so what’s it like where you’re from?”

  “The Delta—that’s farmland around the river—is flat as a pancake. And we don’t have red dirt like here. The fields are the color o’ coal, and they smell like the river. There’s a bunch o’ little towns—no big cities—and the food’s different on accounta all the people that’ve come up the Mississippi to work the cotton. You can see little tamale stands next to chicken joints and Italian restaurants across the road from barbecue pits. The music’s great ’cause there’s so many blues players around.”

  “I never even heard the blues till I went in the Army. Served with a guy from Indianola.”

  “I’ve still got a few o’ my records if you want me to bring ’em to Dolly’s sometime.”

  “That’d be great. You sure sound like you love that place to be workin’ so hard to avoid it.”

  “I did love it.”

  “But not anymore?”

  Daisy shook her head. “I don’t fit anymore. And I lived there my whole life.”

  “You fit in Alabama?”

  Daisy thought about it. “Yeah. I think I do.”

  They watched an occasional breeze send a yellow wave across the mountainside as first one patch of flowers and then the next bowed to it. Daisy reached out and picked two dandelions from the grass, then handed one to Reed. “My granddaddy used to say that if you can blow all the feathers off a dandelion in one breath, you can blow all your troubles away. Ready?”

  They each took a deep breath and blew, both of them leaving just a few feathery remains.

  “We got most of ’em,” she said with a shrug. “That’s at least a start.”

  “Progress,” Reed agreed. “Hey, next time we come up here, you oughta bring your sketchbook with you.”

  “That wouldn’t be much fun for you. What would you do while I drew?”

  Reed smiled. “Admire your fine qualities.”

  Daisy rolled her eyes. “That ain’t gonna take long.”

  “I don’t know about that, now. I think it might keep me occupied for a pretty good while.”

  Reed could see that she was blushing, but as usual, she joked her way out of any attention she wasn’t ready for. “Well, if I’m such a beauty queen, Reed, what am I doin’ here on toppa this dang mountain with you when I could be signin’ up for Miss America?”

  They laughed together on Dolly’s quilt, relishing the sunny sky and their patch of shade on a flower-covered mountainside high above their troubles.

  CHAPTER

  twenty

  Dolly was nearly frantic. Along with the usual work to be done, she was checking her pantry to see how much cornmeal, flour, sugar, and lard she needed and calculating whether she could keep her boarders fed and still put back some money for the property taxes that would be due before she could turn around.

  “Hey, Dolly, you in here?” Daisy called.

  Dolly stepped out of the pantry to find Daisy and Reed in her kitchen. “Oh! Bless your hearts! Would y’all mind runnin’ to the mercantile for me?”

  “No problem,” Reed said.

  “Got a list for us?” Daisy asked.

  Dolly pulled a grocery list, money, and ration coupons out of her apron pocket and handed them to Daisy.

  “Ella needs my coupons, or I’d give ’em to you,” Daisy said.

  “You can have mine,” Reed said. “We should be able to get whatever you need.”

  “Thank you, thank you!” Dolly said.

  “Hey, where’s Anna?” Daisy asked. “I ain’t seen her all day.”

  “She found an old poetry anthology that belonged to my mother and decided that if she couldn’t read any more about Catherine, she’d at least read what Catherine was readin’ the last time she wrote in her journal. She’s upstairs with ‘The Lady of Shalott.’ Want me to call her?”

  “That’s okay. Let her have a little Catherine time. See you later.”

  Inside the mercantile, Daisy introduced Wally Trimble to Reed. “I don’t remember seein’ you around here before,” Wally said, “but somethin’ about you sure looks familiar.”

  Daisy handed Dolly’s list to Wally, who sent his stock boy to bring their groceries to the counter.

  “My family lived here when I was a boy, but we moved away a long time ago,” Reed explained. “My daddy’s Vern Ingram.”

  “Sure ’nough! Why, I went to school with Vern ’n’ Si. Even now I still say their names together the way we all did back then—Vern ’n’ Si—’cause they was best buddies all through school. Even left for the Army on the very same day, but they shipped out in different directions. Where’d you all move to?”

  “My mother inherited a farm in north Alabama, up around Florence. We moved there when I was twelve.”

  “Is that right? Well, you be sure and tell your daddy Wally Trimble said hello, okay?”

  Reed smiled. “I will.” He reached for his wallet as the stock boy delivered their dry goods and lard to the counter.

  “Lemme see now, we got sugar an’ flour an’ cornmeal an’ lard . . . that’ll be 6-0-9.”

  Reed stared at Wally and didn’t speak.


  “Six dollars and nine cents,” Wally repeated.

  Still Reed didn’t move.

  “Grab your gear and spread out! We’re goin’ up!”

  “Son?” Wally said.

  Reed felt his hands begin to tremble and sweat as he stood frozen, holding the wallet.

  “Captain’s hit! Medic!”

  “Oh, I know what the trouble is,” Daisy said, taking the wallet from his hands. “I forgot to tell him I’ve got Dolly’s grocery money and ration coupons, so we just need to get his coupons outta here. There you go, Wally—bet you gave Reed a fright when you quoted him that price. Prob’ly thought we’d have to sweep the store to work off our groceries.”

  “Ha! Sorry about that, son!”

  “I . . . I thank you for the groceries and . . . and next time I’ll count my money before I get here.”

  “There you go!” Wally said. “But now you can always count on me to spot a veteran a few dollars. Don’t forget to tell your daddy I said hey.”

  “I won’t.”

  The stock boy loaded their groceries into the back of Reed’s pickup and disappeared into the store. Reed opened Daisy’s door for her and closed it but couldn’t take his hands off of it. He feared that if he turned loose, he might go sailing off into oblivion.

  “How ’bout I drive?” Daisy said.

  He nodded, handed her the keys, and climbed into the passenger seat as she slid beneath the wheel. She drove in silence as Reed stared out his window, letting the hot summer wind blow in his face.

  When Daisy stopped the truck, he came out of his haze and looked around. “Where are we?”

  “Saxon’s.”

  “We’re in Childersburg?”

  “Yeah.”

  “Why?”

  “Because now that I know how much money you’ve got squirreled away in that wallet, you’re gonna buy me a chili dog and a milkshake.”

  Reed tried to smile. “Always knew you were a gold digger.”

  “Fork it over. What you want?”

  “Whatever you get’ll be fine.”

  Daisy took his money and walked to the front window to order. She had situated the truck away from the parking lot, under the shade of tall pine trees facing the river. How had he crossed over without even noticing?

  When Daisy came back, she spread napkins on the truck seat between them, laid out their chili dogs and French fries, and set their milkshakes on the floorboard next to the gearshift.

  Reed took a bite of his chili dog. “Oh man,” he said. “I forgot how good these are.”

  Daisy nodded. “I know. They get all over you, but it’s worth it.”

  They were quiet for a while, enjoying their food and watching the river glide by. Finally, Daisy spoke. “I read about ’em, you know—the places they sent you. Kasserine Pass and that awful hill—the one they call 609.”

  Reed felt an adrenaline rush just hearing the name. “I don’t think . . . I can talk about it.”

  “No need to. I just wanted you to know that I understand what happened back there at the store. I won’t ever know what you went through on that hill or at that pass, but I get what happened at the store. And I don’t want you to feel weird about it.”

  “Hard not to feel weird when you act crazy.”

  “Hard not to feel crazy when you act weird—like wearin’ overalls every day o’ your life.”

  Reed had to smile. “About those overalls o’ yours . . .”

  “Don’t you start on me too. I catch enough flak from Anna and Dolly. Let’s just say these are my version of a black dress.”

  “I’m not complainin’.”

  They sat together in silence, watching the noontime sunlight on the river, before she said, “You look real tired, Reed.”

  “I feel tired. Every time I go back there in my mind, I just feel so . . . defeated. Like I’ll never get offa that bloody hill as long as I live. I just wanna forget it. I want that so bad.”

  “How long were you over there?”

  “Two years.”

  “And how long have you been back?”

  “Since January.”

  “But you’re already walkin’ without a cane.”

  “Because you worked with me so much.”

  “And I almost never see you go back there in your head.”

  “Usually happens at night.”

  “But still—don’t you think that’s at least somethin’?”

  Reed reached down and took a sip of his milkshake but didn’t say anything.

  “Maybe forgettin’s too big a mountain to climb just yet,” Daisy went on. “Maybe you could just learn how to handle rememberin’—a little bit at a time. That ain’t gonna be an easy climb either, so you gotta give yourself time.”

  “Daisy, what on earth are you doin’ here with me? You’ve had enough troubles of your own, and now you’re takin’ on mine.”

  She sighed and looked out at the river. “I used to spend a whole lotta time doin’ what other people expected me to. But now, I don’t do anything I don’t wanna do. And I don’t go anywhere I don’t wanna go. Life’s too short.” She turned to face Reed. “I’m where I wanna be or I wouldn’t be here. How ’bout you?”

  She was giving him that look again—like the first time he’d met her on the creek and she had stared at him as if she could read his mind.

  He nodded. “Me too.”

  “Guess we better get Dolly her delivery?”

  “Guess so.”

  “You wanna trade places and drive?” she asked as the two of them stuffed chili dog wrappers and napkins into a paper bag.

  More than anything right now, he wanted to make her laugh. “You’re doin’ okay, I guess—for a girl.”

  It worked, thank heaven. Daisy laughed. “Watch it or you’ll be ridin’ back there with the lard.”

  They drove back over the bridge they had crossed together, retreating to the safety of Dolly’s house.

  CHAPTER

  twenty-one

  Dolly found Anna pacing in the hallway, stopping now and again to peek inside the parlor doorway, where she could see Reed, sitting on the front porch, through the front window.

  “Honey, what on earth are you doin’?”

  Anna motioned for Dolly to follow her into the kitchen. Once they were out of earshot, she told Dolly what she was up to. “I’m trying to work up my nerve.”

  “To talk to Reed?”

  “Not just talk to him—ask him a favor.”

  “Sit down, honey, and tell me what’s goin’ on.”

  “You saw Daisy’s truck when we pulled up the other day.”

  Dolly shook her head. “That ol’ clunker’s gonna strand her in the boondocks one o’ these days.”

  “I know! But she’d rather die than ask for help. So I figured I might ask. Reed has Jesse’s truck running like a top. And since Daisy’s been helping him with his exercises so much, I really don’t think he would mind taking a look at her truck, do you?”

  “Why, heavens no. It would give him somethin’ useful to do, which I bet he’d enjoy.”

  “And then there’s the other thing . . .”

  “What other thing, honey?”

  “Well . . . I might be getting my hopes up too soon, but I think there might be a little spark between them.”

  “Well, get on out there, honey. Let’s help ’em fire it up!”

  Anna went onto the porch, where Reed was looking through some old magazines. “Could I talk to you for a minute?” she asked.

  “Sure.”

  She took a seat in the rocker next to him. “I need a favor. Actually, Daisy does, but she’s got way too much pride to ask. It’s that truck of hers. We went to the store together the other day, and I thought we’d have to push it home. You were such a help to Jesse when he had engine trouble that I was just wondering . . .”

  “Want me to take a look?”

  “Would you? But now, there’s a catch. You’ll have to offer because she’ll never ask. Just tell her I blabbed.
I’ll let Jesse know that we might have to move.”

  Reed had forgotten about hydrangeas. When he pulled into Ella’s driveway, Daisy was watering two that flanked the front steps. The backyard of his parents’ old house on the loop had a big bank of them. Reed had always loved their mop-head blooms in the summertime. When he was a little boy, Dolly had taught him how to dry them to make a bouquet for his mother so she could still enjoy at least a faded shade of their colors, even after the weather turned cold.

  “Hey,” Daisy said, shutting off the garden hose.

  “Hey.”

  She looked wary of him, walking slowly to his truck and watching as he lifted a toolbox out of the back.

  “This is not a social call,” he said. “I’m here on business.”

  “Anna sent you down here to look at my truck, didn’t she? I tried to tell her it’s just a little moody, is all.”

  “How ’bout I give it a listen? I won’t do anything else if you don’t want me to.”

  Still Daisy hesitated.

  “C’mon,” he coaxed her. “I’m bored. This’ll give me somethin’ to do.”

  He followed Daisy into Ella’s backyard, where she had parked her ’29 Ford under a shade tree. Nobody could afford new vehicles during the Depression, and now that the war was on, nobody was making them, not for civilians anyway. Only veterans could buy anything new. Everybody else just had to keep patching up whatever they were driving when the whole world went crazy.

  Reed lifted the hood and tried his best not to react to what he saw—hoses and belts that needed replacing, a leaky battery, oil everywhere . . .

  “What you think?” Daisy peered under the hood next to him.

  “Why don’t you crank it for me?” he said.

  She climbed into the truck and managed to get the engine going after several false starts. Right away, Reed could hear that the truck had a serious case of piston slap. The exhaust was shot. The radiator was about ready for the junk heap. Parts were mighty hard to come by these days, but he figured he had earned the right to take any veteran’s privileges offered him and put them to work for Daisy.