Girl to Come Home To

by Grace Livingston Hill

  “No kidding,” said Jeremy soberly. “Not after the line of talk Mom gave me before I went away. She didn’t exactly hold you up as a horrible example of one who had got himself engaged before time, but she did warn me that it was a great deal better to wait for big decisions like that till one was matured enough to be sure.”

  “Hm! Yes, well maybe Mom felt a little uncertain about what I’d done, though she never batted an eye about it. Of course I went away so soon after Jessica and I thrashed things out, and Mom was always fair. She never jumped to conclusions nor antagonized one of us. Probably she didn’t want to have me go away with any unpleasantness between us. She took her worries, if she had any about us, to God. She was that way. She had a wonderful trust that God could and would work anything out that she couldn’t manage. Mom was wonderful that way. It somehow strengthened me a couple of times when I had a close call, just to remember that Mom was probably on her knees putting a wall of her prayers around me, maybe right at that time.”

  “Yes, she’s been a wonderful mom,” said Jeremy thoughtfully. “That’s why I don’t want anything to upset her now. I gotta go slow and let her know I haven’t got away from her teaching. But say, aren’t we coming into our station? Isn’t that the old Clark place? Yes, it is. Now it won’t be long before we’re home. Boy, but I’m hungering for a sight of the old house and Mom and Dad and Kathie and even old Hetty. Won’t it be good to eat some of her cooking again? I’m hungry enough to eat a bear.”

  “Here, too,” said Rodney, looking eagerly out the window. “But a bear wouldn’t be in it compared with Hetty’s fried chicken. Nobody ever fried chicken to beat old Hetty. Maybe we ought to have let ’em know we were coming. It takes time to go out and kill a chicken and cook it.”

  “Have you forgotten, brother, that they have an ice plant in the cellar? Ten to one Mom’s had chickens galore, frozen and ready to fry, just in case. You know Mom never got caught asleep. She’s probably been getting ready for this supper for the last two months. She won’t be caught napping.”

  “No,” said the older brother with solemn shining light in his eyes. “Well, here’s our station. Shall we go? It’s time to get our luggage in hand.”

  “Here, I’ll reach that bag, Rod. You oughtn’t to be straining that shoulder of yours, remember. You don’t want to go back to the hospital again, you know.”

  And so, laughing, kidding, eager, they arose and gathering their effects, trooped out to the platform.

  Casting a quick glance about, they made a dash toward the upper end of the station, and using the tactics known to them of old in their school days, they escaped meeting the crowd that usually assembled around an arriving train. They cut across a vacant lot and so were not detained but strode on down the country road toward their home. That was where they desired above all things to be as rapidly as possible. That was what they had come across the ocean for. Mother and home were like heaven in their thoughts, and at present there was no one they knew of by whom they were willing to be delayed one extra minute.

  They were unaware, as they hurried along with great strides, of the eyes of some who saw them as they dashed around the end of the station, and pointed them out, questioned who they were. For though the uniforms of servicemen were numerous, in that town as well as in others, they shone out with their gold braid and brass buttons and attracted attention as they passed under the station lights.

  “Well, if I didn’t know that man was overseas in a hospital, I’d say that was Rodney Graeme,” said one girl stretching her neck to peer down the platform behind her. “He walks just as Rod did.”

  “You’re dreaming,” said another. “Rodney Graeme has been overseas for four years. Besides, there are two of them, Jess. Which one did you think looked like Rod?”

  “The one on the right,” said the first girl. “I tell you he walks just like Rod.”

  “I guess that’s wishful thinking,” said Emma Galt, an older girl with a sour mouth, a sharp tongue, and a hateful glance.

  “That other one might be Rod’s younger brother, Jerry,” said Garetha Sloan.

  “Nonsense! Jerry wasn’t as tall as Rod; he was only a kid in high school when Rod went away.”

  “You seem greatly interested for a married woman, Jess,” sneered Emma Galt.

  “Really!” said Jessica. “Is your idea of a married woman one who forgets all her old friends?”

  But out upon the highway the two brothers made great progress, striding along.

  “Well, we beat ’em to it all right,” said Jeremy.

  “Okay! That’s all right with me,” said his brother. “I’ll take my old comrades later. Just now I want to get home and see Mom. I didn’t notice who they were, did you?”

  “No, I didn’t wait to identify anybody but old Ben, the stationmaster. He looked hale and hearty. There were a bunch of girls, or women, headed toward the drugstore, but I didn’t stop to see if I knew them. I certainly am glad we escaped. I don’t want to be gushed over.”

  “Well, maybe we’ve escaped notice. You can’t always tell. We’ll see later,” said Rodney. “But there’s the end gable of the house around the bend, and the old elm still standing. I was afraid some storm might have destroyed it. Somehow I forget that they haven’t had falling bombs over here. It looks wonderful to see the old places all intact. And a light on our front porch. Good to see houses and trees after so much sea. And isn’t that our cow, old Taffy, in the pasture by the barn?”

  “It sure is,” said Jeremy excitedly, “and my horse, Prince! Oh boy! We’re home at last!”

  They did the last few laps almost on a run and went storming up the front steps to meet the mother who according to her late afternoon custom had been shadowing the window, looking toward the road by which they would have to come if they ever came back. Not that she was exactly expecting them, but it seemed she was not content to let the twilight settle down for the night without always taking a last glimpse up the road as if they might be coming yet before she was content to sleep.

  In an instant she was in their big strong arms, almost smothered with their kisses, big fellows as they were.

  “Mom! Oh, Mom!” they said and then embraced her again, both of them together, till she had to hold them off and study them to tell which was which.

  “My babies! My babies grown into great men, both of you! And both of you come back to me at once! Am I dreaming, or is this real?”

  She passed her frail, trembling hand over eyes that had grown weary watching out the window all these months for her lads.

  “This is real, Mom!” said Jeremy, and he hugged her again. “And where’s Dad? Don’t tell me he’s gone to the village! We can’t wait to see him.”

  “No, he’s here somewhere,” said the mother’s voice, full of sweet motherly joy. “He just got back from bringing Kathleen from her day at the hospital, nursing. He went out to milk the cow. Kathie, oh, Kathie! Father! Where are you? The boys have come!”

  There was a rush down the stairs, and the pretty Kathleen sister was among them, and the kindly father, beaming upon them all. It was a wonderful time. And good old Hetty came in for her share of greeting, too.

  And then the boys hung their coats and caps up on the hall rack, in all the glory of gold braid and decorations, dumped their baggage on the hall table and chair, and went to the big living room where the father had already started a blaze in the ever-ready fireplace that was always prepared for the match to bring good cheer.

  Then as they sat there talking, just looking at one another—even old Hetty having a part of the moment—smiling, beaming joy to one another, somehow all the terrible impressions, so indelibly graven in the consciousness of those fighters who had returned, were somehow softened, gentled, comforted by the sight and sound of beloved faces, precious voices, till for the time the past terrible years were erased. It seemed almost like a look into a future where heaven would wipe out the sorrows of earth.

  Then, softly, old Hetty slipped out into the ki
tchen. She knew what to do, even if Mrs. Graeme had not given that warning look. So many times, dark days, when there had come no expected letters, and news was scarce and bad when it did come, these two good women had brightened the darkness by making plans of what they would do, when, and if, the boys did come suddenly, unexpectedly.

  Hetty hurried to the freezing plant and got out her chickens. All the children home now, all the family together at last. And Hetty was as happy over the fact as any of the family, for they were her family, the only family she had left anymore.

  And presently there was the sweet aroma of frying chicken, a whiff of baking biscuits at the brief opening of the oven door, the fragrant tang of applesauce cooking. Oh, it was going to be a good supper, if it was hastily gotten together. There would be also mashed potatoes and rich brown gravy, Hetty’s gravy, they knew of old. And there were boiling onions, turnips adding to the perfume. Celery and pickles. They could think it all out in anticipation, and Mother Graeme could smile and know that all was going on as she had planned. Little lima beans. Her nose was sensitive to each new smell. There would be coffee by and by, and there was a tempting lemon meringue pie, the kind the boys loved, in the cold pantry. The boys would not be missing anything of the old home they loved.

  They had asked about the horse and the cow and the dogs, the latter even now lying adoringly at the feet of their returned masters, wriggling in joy over their coming.

  They had heard a little of the welfare of near neighbors, a few happenings in the village, the passing of an invalid, the sudden death of a fine old citizen, but by common consent there had been no mention yet of the group of young people who had been used to almost infest the house at one time, when the boys were at home before the war. Of course many of the men and a few of the girls were in the service, somewhere, and there was a shadow of sadness that no one was quite willing to bring upon their sweet converse, in this great time of joy. Jeremy, sitting quietly, watching his mother’s sweet, happy face, suddenly realized that she had not ventured to tell them about any of their old friends and comrades, and he wondered again if she knew what had befallen Rodney. He wished in his heart that the matter might not have to be mentioned, at least not that night. There would be time enough for the shadow of a blighting disappointment to one of their number, later, but not tonight. Not to dim the first homecoming. They were there, just themselves. It was almost as they used to be before they grew up, when they were a family, simple and whole. Oh, that it might be that way for at least one more night before any revelations were made that might darken the picture!

  He gave a quick look toward Rodney, sitting so quietly there watching his mother. Was Rod wondering about the same things? Of course he was. Somehow he and Rod always seemed to have much the same reactions to matters of moment. And this surely must have been a matter of moment to Rod.

  Good old Rod! These first few days might be going to be tough for him. He must be on hand to help out if any occasion for help should present itself. People were so dumb. There were always nosy ones who asked foolish prying questions and would need to be turned off with a laugh, or silence. A brother could perhaps do a lot.

  It was just then it happened.

  The blessing had been asked. That seemed this time such a special joy to be thanking God for bringing them all together again. Father had served them all heaping plates of the tempting food, and Rod had just put the first mouthful in his mouth. Jeremy watched him do it. And then the doorbell rang, followed by the sound of the turning doorknob, the opening of the big front door, the entrance of several feet, the click of girls’ heels on the hall floor, just as it used to be in the past years so many times. For all their young friends always felt so much at home in their home. But oh, why couldn’t they have waited just this one night and let the home folks have their first inning? Just this first night!

  A clatter and chatter of young voice, as Kathleen sprang up and hurried into the hall.

  “Oh, there you are, Kathleen,” said a loud, clear voice that Jeremy knew instantly was Jessica’s. “Oh, you’re eating dinner, aren’t you? Never mind, we’ll come right out and sit with you the way we’ve always done. No, don’t turn on the light in the living room, we’ll come right out. Of course we’ve had our dinners before we came, but we simply can’t waste a minute, and no, we won’t hold you up. I know you must be hungry—”

  Jeremy’s quick glance went to Rodney’s face, turned suddenly angry and frowning. Yes, he had recognized the voice. His reaction was unmistakable.

  In one motion as it were, Rodney swept his knife and fork and napkin and plate from the table as he sprang stealthily to his feet and bolted for the pantry door, carrying with him all evidences of his former presence at the table. Only his mute napkin ring remained to show there had been another sitting there at the right hand of Mother Graeme. Then quickly, quite unobtrusively, the mother’s hand went out and covered that napkin ring, drawing it close to the other side of the coffeepot, entirely out of sight from the door into the hall by which the bevy of guests seemed about to enter. It was then that Jeremy came to himself and realized that this was his opportunity. He swung to his feet and grasped the chair that stood by his side where his brother had been sitting, giving it a quick twist, and placing it innocently off at one side, where any unsuspecting person might sit without noticing that it had but a moment before been a part of the family circle of diners.

  Jeremy came forward courteously and met the guests as they entered, ahead of the disturbed Kathleen, who had done her best to turn them aside and failed. But no one would ever have suspected that Jeremy was playing a graceful part, or that he was at all anxious about the present situation. Rodney was definitely out of the picture, that was all that mattered. The pantry door was closed, and there was not even a shadow of the passing of a blue coat with brass buttons, gold braid, and ribbon decorations.

  Jeremy glanced at his mother, but she was coolly welcoming the guests, seating them around the room, not saying a word about Rodney’s absence. Perhaps she hadn’t even noticed yet that he was gone. But you never could tell. Mother was a marvelous actress.

  Chapter 2

  Out on the road going slowly by, two old men were jogging along, as much as an ancient Ford could be said to jog, even in war times, and as they passed the car standing in front of the Graeme house, they even slowed down their war jog and stared at it as they were passing.

  “Ain’t that the car Marcella Ashby bought off that Ty Wardlow jest afore he left fer overseas? Seems like there ain’t another one jest that make an’ color in these parts. And I seen her driving by awhile ago with Emma Galt an’ Garethy Sloan, an’ another gal. It looked very much like that highflier who married that old gray-headed ripsnorter of a so-called stockbroker from the West, her that useta be Jessica Downs. Poor old Widow Downs done her best by that gal, but she was a chip off the old block, I guess, and couldn’t get by with that temper’ment she inherited from that flighty ma of hers an’ her good-for-nothin’ pa, Wiley Downs. He was jes’ naturally a cussed young’un from a three-year-old up, when they all thought he was so sweet and cute. Well, he was cute all right. I never did see no sweetness about him though, did you Tully?”

  “Not so’s you’d notice it,” answered Tully glumly. “I know he was anythin’ but sweet when I knowed him in school, and I guess his teachers all felt the same way. And that Jessica, she had every one of his traits, including that washed-out yella hair that she flung around sa proudly, ’zif she was the only one who had any. Oh, she was sorta pretty, I’ll admit, but she had sly eyes, and I always wondered how it was that Rod Graeme ever took up with her. I sort of figured that his pop an’ mom was almost glad ta let him go to war jesta get him away from that little gold-digger. Well, she does seem like a gold-digger, doesn’t she? How she shelved Rod Graeme and took up with an old man just because he was said to be rollin’ in wealth.”

  “Oh, she’s a gold-digger all right, Tully,” said Jeff Springer, turning out for the car they h
ad just been discussing. “They do say that old guy, Carver De Groot, is rich as they make ’em. Ur leastways that’s the talk. Though I’m wonderin’ what she came back here fer, if that was her in that car with the other gals. I heard tell it was some likely that the Graeme boys might be comin’ home soon on a furlough.”

  “Yep,” said Tully. “They hev. I seen ’em jest a little while ago. They got in on the late train and shied off across the meadow as if they was tryin’ to escape notice. Beats all how shy some o’ them heroes are.”

  “Well, mebbe the gals seen ’em,” said Jeff, “an’ they’ve come here to find out if it’s so.”

  There weren’t many in the town who could beat Jeff and Tully figuring out what had happened and what people were going to do about it.

  “Well, I don’t see what she’d wantta come back here fer,” said Tully thoughtfully. “She’s married all righty, fer I heard that Marcella Ashby went out to the weddin’, an’ it ain’t so long ago, neither.”

  “Yep. But then, there’s such a thing as di-vorces, ya know.”

  “Shucks!” said Tully. “No gal brought up in this here town would think about gettin’ a di-vorce. Why, it ain’t considered respectable here.”

  “Well, you needn’t tell me that gal Jessica would ever stop anythin’ she wanted ta do fer respectability’s sake. It ain’t in her.”

  “Mebbe not,” said Tully speculatively, “but it would any of those Graemes. You know that, Jeff.”

  “Yes, I s’pose so,” reflected Jeff, “that is, of course, Mom and Pop Graeme would feel that way. But that ain’t sayin’ the boys would feel that way now. They’ve been ta war, ya know, an’ they do say that war changes men a whole lot. You can’t jus’ say fer sure them Graeme boys feels that way now, ya know.”