Girl to Come Home To

by Grace Livingston Hill

  “I really don’t know, Alida,” said Beryl almost haughtily. “I only knew him in high school, but he seemed very cheerful then.”

  “Why, he’ll likely just talk about the war I suppose,” said Isabelle. “They all do. I adore to hear the fellows tell about their experiences, how many enemies they killed and all that and how they just got off by the skin of their teeth.”

  “Isabelle! You bloodthirsty thing! How dreadful!” exclaimed Bonny.

  “Well, isn’t that the way we’re supposed to feel during this war? We’re out to get the enemy as quick as we can and finish them up so they can’t start anything again, not in our lifetime, anyway. Isn’t that the idea?” said Isabelle.

  “Well, anyway, girls you’ll all go, won’t you?” said Bonny Stewart. “I’ll get some credit up in heaven for bringing so many to church, won’t I? Come and meet at my house. It’s near the church, and I know my way around, you know. I’m supposed to be a member of that church. Meet at my house, and we’ll have a cup of tea and some little frosted cakes before we go over to the church. Beryl, why don’t you invite Jeremy Graeme to come over along with you, and we can all get acquainted with him?”

  “No,” said Beryl with dignity. “He wouldn’t want to go to a reception before he spoke, and anyway I wouldn’t do that sort of thing. I’ll be at church, I think, but I’m not sure I’ll be over at your place, Bonny, beforehand. Mother has company, and I may be needed at home until time for church to begin. I’ll look you all up if I can.”

  Then the noon whistle sounded and there was a general movement to put away work and go out to lunch. Beryl slipped away out of notice to think over what she had been hearing.

  So, Jeremy had been doing notable things in the war and was going to speak about them. It would be interesting, of course, and she was sure she would like to hear him. Yet she recognized in herself a certain shrinking from seeing him again lest the grown-up Jeremy might disappoint her. For he had been one of her childhood’s admirations, and she didn’t want to think that he had failed to turn out the kind of man his boyhood had promised. She did not like to think her little-girl ideas of people had been wrong. Somehow they made a happy young background for the childish self she had been.

  When Beryl reached home she went to her own room and sat down to think. Her mind was going back to her days at school and to the times when she was interested in this one and that. It was very plain to her as she thought back, remembering the boy they had but just a few minutes before been talking about. Presently she got up and went to her bookcase where there were several big books full of snapshots and photographs of her school days. She had scarcely looked them over since she graduated from high school. Yet she knew exactly where to find the ones she wanted. They were grouped together in the middle of the book, flanked on either side by other members of her class. And there was one a little larger than the rest, not really a photograph, just a page cut from the class yearbook. For some time she studied the pictures, and when she put the book away she decided that definitely she wanted to go and hear Jeremy talk and see if he had carried out the promise of his childhood. Then she put away the thought of it all and went to her appointment at the hospital where she was taking a friend’s place nursing for the afternoon.

  There was another woman interested in the one who was to speak in the Harper Memorial Church next Sunday night, and that was Louella Chatterton.

  Louella had gone into the city to visit with an old friend, also to be near the lawyer whom she wanted to consult about some business matters, and as she was passing along the street a name on the advertising board in front of a church caught her eye. GRAEME. Why, could this be the Riverton Graemes? Louella about-faced and drew up in front of the church, studying the notice.

  Lieutenant Commander Jeremy R. Graeme will speak in this church Sunday evening at 8:00 P.M. Come and hear the thrilling experience of this young serviceman. Come and bring your friends.

  Louella read the notice over several times, and when she started on her way she headed for a drugstore where there would be a telephone. Seated in the booth she called up her number and asked for Mrs. De Groot, and when a voice responded she said gushingly, “Is that you Jessica? I’ve got the most exciting news to tell you. Can’t you take dinner with me tonight? We can talk so much better in my room at the hotel, with no interruptions, and meantime I’ll be looking up details and be able to tell you more than I can give you now over the telephone.”

  “Oh! Louella, what do you mean? What is it all about? Has it anything to do with Rodney Graeme?”

  “Well, yes, in a way. I’ve got to find out a little bit more about it, but I’ve got a scheme and it ought surely to give you an opportunity to meet him and have a good talk, which ought to clear the atmosphere, don’t you think?”

  “Well, yes, it might. But what is all this? How did you hear about it, and what is it really?”

  “Why, it’s just that he seems to be advertised to address an audience in the Harper Memorial Church, here in the city. I have seen the notice outside the church so that’s how I know about it. He’s a lieutenant commander, isn’t he? I thought so. They’ve got the names mixed somewhat, but I know it must be Rodney. It says Jeremy R., but that means nothing. Notices often get the names or the initials wrong, and anyway, even if it should be Jeremy, Rodney will probably be with him on the platform, and perhaps we can work it so he will come and sit with us. I’m sure this is a break for us. I knew I’d find a way for you to see him in spite of his stubbornness. I’ll find a way yet.”

  “Where are you?” asked the fretful voice of the girl.

  “Why, I’m down in the city at a drugstore phoning. No, I’m not in the village of Riverton. I’m down in the city. I’ve been staying all night with a friend I met out west, and I’m coming home tonight. Will you be at my hotel by six thirty? All right, I’ll be seeing you then, and we’ll fix something up.”

  Chapter 6

  Kathie came in from a trip to the grocery, her arms full of bags, bundles, and baskets.

  “Have the boys come down for breakfast yet, Mother?” she asked eagerly. “Because I’ve brought some simply wonderful fruit, and I know they will enjoy it.”

  “No, they are not down yet. I thought they ought to sleep a little while, as long as they seem to want to, now that they are at home and there is no one around to say ‘Thou shalt, and thou shalt not.’ ”

  “That’s nice, Mother. Isn’t it wonderful to have them both home again and have a chance to spoil them just a little? Only, do you know, they somehow don’t spoil. I think that’s a tribute to the way you brought them up. I do hope, perhaps, someday, somebody will think I’m a credit to your bringing up, too.”

  “You dear child! Of course they will. Kathie, you have always been a wonderful daughter,” and the mother stepped over and stopped to lay a kiss on the sweet white forehead as Kathie was bending over the table to arrange a great dish of fruit.

  “Look, Mother, pink grapefruit, Florida oranges, lovely red apples, and see these luscious yellow bananas. They have sunshine in their skins.”

  “Yes, aren’t they beautiful? I’m so glad you found them. But there, the boys are coming down. They must have been waiting for you to get back. Tell Hetty, won’t you? Tell her she better get the griddle hot. We’re having buckwheats, you know.”

  “Yes, I’ll tell her,” said Kathie happily, and she skipped out to the kitchen. Her mother could hear her eager young voice calling to Hetty, “All ready, Hetty, put the griddle on!”

  Then the brothers barged into the dining room, breathing joyous good mornings, and in the same breath Jeremy cried, “Oh, boy! What do I smell? Buckwheat cakes! As I live. Rod, what do you know about that? We’re really home at last and going to have genuine buckwheat cakes. And maple syrup from the row of maples on the meadow lots! Can you beat it?”

  “No, I can’t beat it, brother. I can’t even in my thoughts come up to it. Sometimes on far seas I have lain in sacks and dreamed of buckwheat ca
kes. I’ve seen the butter melting on their hot brown surfaces, I’ve closed my eyes and tried to think how maple syrup would fall from the old silver cruet and how it would taste as I put the first luscious mouthful in my mouth. I almost thought there was syrup on my lips, and I must be careful not to drop any on my uniform and get myself all sticky.”

  “Oh, Jerry, what a boy you are,” said his smiling mother. “Sometimes I was terribly afraid you would be so grown up when you came home that I wouldn’t feel you were my little boy who left me and sailed away to foreign lands, but you’re just the same, Jerry. There! Sit down and begin. Do you want fruit first and cereal?”

  “Not on yer life, Mom. I want a buckwheat cake the first off the bat, and no kiddin’.”

  And so amid laughter and joking, the morning began, with Rodney not far behind in his appreciation of the buckwheat cakes.

  Though it was three days since that first night that the brothers had arrived, yet it seemed to them all as if they had just come. The long months and years of their separation were still sharply in their minds, and they had to savor every moment of their presence together again. Oh how they had feared and dreaded that home might be sorrowful, might be filled with disappointment, worry for fear of disablement or incurable illness, or a burden of sorrow and inability for their dear ones. That very morning as the loving mother had knelt to pray for the opening of the day, she had thanked the Lord fervently that He had brought her dear ones home safely, not lame nor blind nor stricken with some fatal illness. And so she had gone down to meet the day with her heart filled with wonder and her face shining with joy and the glory of the Lord. And those boys saw the glory and rejoiced in it.

  The brothers were just beginning to feel really at home again, ready to kid each other and feel thoroughly as if they had not been away at all. Their mother was beginning to hold her breath every time the telephone rang lest it might be some new orders from Washington and the boys might have to go away again. Although they had told her that they understood their next assignment would likely be in the United States, but her mother heart kept turning wistfully to her Lord, just to help her trust. For all her petitions had to go through the permission of her Lord.

  So it was a very happy family at that breakfast table the third morning of their stay at home, and they were beginning to plan what they would do and where they would go and who of the old friends they must be sure to see first. Though at any mention of leaving home even for a few hours they all groaned.

  “Mom, if I were going to live a thousand years, I’d like to make sure I could come home here every night to sleep. Just you try to sleep once in a sack overnight or on a ship that is being bombed and you’d know what I mean. I have great sympathy for the man who wrote ‘Home! Sweet Home!’, ‘Be it ever so humble, there’s no place like home.’ And this is anything but a humble home.”

  “Dear boy!” said Mrs. Graeme tenderly with sudden tears of joy in her eyes.

  “Please make that plural, Mom,” urged Rodney. “I could echo every word of that sentiment.”

  “Dear boys!” said the mother, suddenly smiling brightly through more tears.

  And it was just then that Kathleen sprang from her chair and stepped over to the window, then backed away. “Good night, Mother, don’t cry! Look who’s coming in the gate. Mop up your eyes and pretend you’re laughing.”

  “What! Who?” said Rodney, springing to his feet and stretching his tall height to look out the window from the vantage of his place at the table.

  “It isn’t that girl again, is it?” he blurted.

  “No, no, Rod,” laughed his sister, “not quite so bad as that. It’s only Cousin Louella!”

  “Good night, it is indeed,” said Jeremy. “And I was going to eat another plateful of pancakes, but this has to do me till tomorrow morning. I can’t stand another session with Cousin Lou.” He grabbed the last two cakes on the plate, emptied a couple spoonfuls of sugar on one, folded them neatly together, and scuttled up the back stairs, calling back in a sepulchral whisper, “Mom, if anybody asks for me, tell ’em I didn’t say where I was going, just errands.”

  Rodney stopped long enough to get the last swallow of coffee before he departed, and he could just hear Cousin Louella’s key in the front latch as he closed the back door, pulling on an old sweater and making his way to the garage where Kathie kept the old car.

  “It’s all right, Rod,” said his sister, hurrying after him. “I put the chain on the front door last night, and the latchkey won’t do any good. She’ll have to ring and wait till somebody comes to open the door.”

  Rodney grinned. “Thanks awfully, Kath. You’re a good angel,” he said. “You might hang a handkerchief out your window when she leaves. I won’t come back till she’s gone.” With another grin and a wave of his hand he vanished into the garage.

  Kathleen hurried back into the house to save her mother from going to the door. “You aren’t going to ask her to stay to lunch, are you, Mother? Because the boys won’t come back if you do. I promised to hang out a flag for Rod when she’s gone.”

  “No,” the mother said, smiling “not today. I have to go down to the village on an errand. I can perhaps ask her to go along.”

  “But Rod’s got the car.”

  “Oh, well, that’s all right. I’ll go later. You leave her to me. If I give her some work to do she won’t stay long. I’ll let her put those hems in my new aprons. You bring them down to me and I’ll sit right here and sew them on. You can be dusting the hall and library and be near enough to hear any signals I send out. She will maybe like to take a walk with you.”

  “Not she,” Kathleen said with a grin. “She always says she has sprained her foot when I ask her to take a walk. But you might try her going down behind the barn to see the little new colt. I have to take some feed down to the colt’s mother.”

  Mother Graeme grinned mischievously, showing how much she resembled her two boys. “Okay,” she said calmly, “I’ll try her, but you just watch her face when I do.”

  So Kathleen walked to the front door, which was now open about four inches and being banged impatiently, indignantly back and forth against the chain.

  Kathleen with firm hand closed the door, released the chain, and then opened it, so quickly that the indignant semi-relative was flung almost bodily into the hall.

  “Why, the very idea!” said Cousin Louella indignantly. “Whoever put that thing on, I should like to know?”

  “Oh, didn’t you know we use the chain now?” asked Kathleen coolly. “I guess nobody thought to take it off this morning. Won’t you come in, Cousin Louella? Mother’s in the dining room sewing. Just go right in there. I think Hetty is going to sweep in the living room so it will be pleasanter sitting in the dining room.”

  “Oh, really?” said the cousin with a lofty insulted air. “Well, of course if your mother is there. But it was really the boys I wanted to see. More especially Rodney. Where is he?”

  “Why, I’m not sure. He went out to the garage, and I think I saw the car go out. You know you can’t keep track of the boys once they get in their hometown, after their long separation.”

  “Rodney wouldn’t by any chance have gone to see his old friend Jessica, would he?” asked the cousin pryingly, with an insinuating smile, as if she had a secret that Kathleen probably understood.

  “Why no,” said Kathleen calmly. “I don’t think he went there. I don’t think he has much to do with her anymore. You knew she is married, didn’t you?”

  “Oh, yes, I knew she was married, poor dear. But I feel so sorry for her and for Rodney, too. Such a pity, a nice suitable match like that broken up. What a foolish boy he was to let that happen. Of course what he ought to have done was to have married her before he went away. Then this couldn’t have happened. But I suppose your mother blocked that. She always was opposed to having her children grow up.”

  “I beg your pardon, Cousin Louella, I don’t quite understand you. Mother had nothing whatever to do with the b
reaking of that engagement. And I don’t think we ought to talk about it, do you? Rodney would be furious, and I shouldn’t think Jessica would care for such comments. At least I wouldn’t. She’s a married woman, you know.”

  “Yes, poor dear, I’m aware of that. I feel so very sorry for her. But there are ways of getting out of a situation like that of course.”

  “Is that the way you look at it, Cousin Louella? I don’t think so. But here comes Mother. See what pretty aprons she is making. Here, sit down in this little rocker in the bay window. I think the view of the yard all snow is pretty out there, don’t you? And Hetty is making hot doughnuts. Shall I get you one, or do you think it is too soon after breakfast?”

  “Yes, I certainly would like some doughnuts. But I’d want a cup of coffee with them. Wasn’t there some left from breakfast that Hetty could heat up for me?”

  “I’ll see,” said Kathleen, and she vanished grimly into the kitchen. “The idea!” she muttered to Hetty. “Doughnuts and coffee, when she probably ate a huge breakfast at the hotel. Well, perhaps she won’t attempt to stay to lunch if I feed her now.”

  So Kathleen got ready three hot doughnuts and a cup of coffee and brought them on a tray to the guest-cousin and then vanished to her dusting lest more would be demanded.

  Meantime Hetty was filling two large platters with doughnuts already fried and hiding them on the top shelf of the pantry, where no snooping relative could find them.

  So the guest settled back in her rocker with her coffee and doughnuts to enjoy herself and see how much information she could pry out of Mother Graeme.

  “Well, so it seems Rodney is becoming a public speaker,” she said as she took a large, sugary bite of doughnut and began to rock slowly, balancing her coffee cup neatly on the arm of her chair, with a careful hand guarding it.

  Mother Graeme smiled.

  “Oh no, not Rodney,” she said pleasantly. “He was pretty badly wounded you know, and until his shoulder gets better he has been distinctly ordered not to do anything for a while. They wanted him to broadcast from Washington, but the doctors said no, not now, so they are putting that off till spring, or even later if his condition is not good yet.”