by Sarah Pawley
Grace unfolded the thin navy blue shirt and pants. “What are they?” She’d never seen anything like them.
“They’re cotton pajamas,” Alice replied. “They’re perfect for summer sleeping, and a hell of a lot better than those old flannel nightgowns, and I just know that’s what you brought with you.”
Grace smiled, but didn’t answer. She didn’t have to, for her sister-in-law knew her better than most anyone. “Thank you,” she replied sweetly.
Alice pursed her lips, waving away the gratitude. “No thanks required, sis.” She took the pajamas and set them aside for her. Then she turned back with a big smile. “Well, I think I'll leave you to it. I've had a long day myself, and I think I'll turn in.” Suddenly she gave a little bounce of excitement, and threw her arms around her. “I’m so excited to have you here! We’re going to have so much fun. I can’t wait!”
With another little bounce she made her way towards the door, but Grace stopped her for a moment.
"You're sure I won't drown in there?" She pointed towards the mountain of bubbles that was rising in the tub. But Alice just smiled.
"I think you'll be safe.” She closed the door behind her, leaving Grace on her own.
For the first time in days, she was completely alone. She looked around, and the first thing she did was to go over and shut off the faucet. Not because the water would overflow…though it had, indeed, reached its limit…but because she wanted to see if she really could control the thing. There was an odd kind of pleasure she found in managing the flow of water, turning it on and off again and again for several long moments. But after a short time playing, she made herself stop. She could have happily kept on, but felt a little silly for doing it, so she ceased and went on with her task at hand.
In the bedroom, she put her bag on a chair and rifled through it, finding her hairbrush. Carrying it into the bathroom she placed it on the sink, and shutting the door behind her, she took in the silence…the complete privacy the little room provided. Taking off her boots and socks, she set them neatly by the door. One by one she removed her garments, putting them neatly in a pile beside the boots. Then she turned to look at the bath. It seemed a little scary to see the big white tub, deep with water and high with bubbles, but she told herself not to be so ridiculous. If Alice had told her to do it, she would. It was only water, after all. She’d taken baths before, even though they’d been taken in the water of the spring, or just out of a bucket or a wash basin. This couldn't be so bad.
She stepped one foot over and slowly tested it. The bubbles were cool to the touch and smelled like lavender, which she liked very much. Then her foot touched actual water and she yanked it back briefly. She’d never felt hot water except on her face and hands, and it took several more tests before she found herself able to put both feet in and stand there, letting the heat radiate up her legs. Finally she made herself bend her knees, and slowly sinking down, she adjusted to the feeling of hot water all over her body. Lord, she thought with a sigh of pleasure, Alice was right. This is heavenly.
But even in the midst of such delight, she knew she had little duties to perform. Only this time, it was a duty to herself and not to her entire family or anyone else. After several days of traveling, she was sure she smelled quite ripe. Jack and Alice would have been too polite to say anything, but she could imagine what others would have thought. Especially Henry.
She didn’t know why he’d popped into her head, but she couldn’t stop thinking about how rude he’d been. Not that she cared about his snobby opinion. And what was he to her anyway? The feelings of a womanizer meant nothing to her. In fact, there were very few people whose opinion she cared about at all. But she did care about herself, and after all, cleanliness was next to Godliness, or so she believed. She cleaned herself up quickly, scrubbing herself from tip to toe, and giving her head and hair a thorough wash and rinse. Then she sank down in the water up to her neck, closing her eyes and relaxing, her obligations filled for the moment.
As she lay there, she kept seeing those cold blue eyes of his. For a moment she tried to push his image from her head, but it remained stubbornly implanted, and soon she gave up fighting it and let her mind wander. There was something strange about that man. Not that she feared him. But his look was so harsh it made her uncomfortable, while fascinating her at the same time. There was not one hint of softness in his appearance, starting with those eyes that seemed to pierce right through her, and moving on to other little things about him. His mouth, for one….thin lips set in a very angular lower jaw. His nose was hawkish and a bit long, but not ugly. It only added to the masculinity of his face. That seemed to be the thing about him…the lack of gentleness in any of his features. Maybe if he smiled, it would soften him a little. But she hadn’t seen him make any attempt at that, and so she couldn’t know if it would make a difference or not.
She sighed, and looking down, she saw that the bubbles had long dissolved. The water was growing cool as well. With great reluctance, she reached down and pulled the plug. She stood up in the tub, wringing the water out of her hair. She reached over and took a towel from the ring on the wall, wrapping it around herself. Just as she started to step out, the last of the bathwater was going down…and suddenly there came a demonic kind of sound from the bottom of the bathtub. It was the last of the water being sucked down the drain.
She practically jumped over the side, so terrified was she by the noise. In all sincerity, she thought it possible to be taken down with the bathwater, so she quickly got out and stepped away from the evil sounding thing. She might have pondered it further, if it weren't for the fact that she was suddenly freezing cold. She dried herself quickly, stepping into the pajamas Alice had given her. How odd it felt not to have a dress hem brushing her calves. But it wasn’t unpleasant, not at all. She found the pajamas quite comfortable, just as Alice had said they would be.
As she went into her bedroom, she flipped off the light switch…then flipped it on, and off, and on and off again. She still couldn't get over the amazement of electric lights, among other things…and she was sure there were many other discoveries yet to be found.
As she sat on the edge of the bed she braided her hair, using the same tattered ribbon she'd been wearing for days. She saw how it was beginning to fray. Maybe she could ask Alice for some new ribbons tomorrow. She and Jack had been so good to her. They would probably give her new ribbon and a lot more, and without expecting anything in return, generous souls that they were. But she was determined to pay them back for their kindness, one way or another. The thought was a fading one, though, as both the wear of travel and the heat from the bath were suddenly taking a toll on her senses.
She pulled back the soft blue comforter, folding it neatly at the end of the bed, for it was too warm to need much cover. The sheet would be enough, and she slipped under its softness. Reaching over, she turned off the light…and unable to help herself, she pulled the little chain several times before finally letting the room settle into darkness.
Her last act, before she fell asleep, was to clasp the little cross at her neck and to send a prayer to heaven, thanking the good Lord above for guiding her on her way.
Chapter 6
“A New World”
Morning, she thought. It is morning. Time to rise.
Sitting up, rubbing her weary eyes, she wondered for a moment why everything was so silent. That danged old rooster never missed a day.
But then she remembered that there was no rooster. No fires to be lit, no water to be fetched. Looking around her new room, hearing the absolute silence, she realized that she wasn't bound to those kinds of drudgeries anymore. Her time was now completely her own, perhaps for the first time in her entire life, and it made her smile with contentment.
Stretching like a lazy cat, she fell back on her pillow where she remained for some time, just staring at the ceiling. There was an inkling in her head that she could lay there as long as she wished. No one would care if she did.
But laziness was not in her blood, even now.
Throwing back the sheet, she swung her legs over the side of the bed. How strange and soft the carpet felt on her bare feet, so different from the bare wood floor she was used to. She crunched her toes in the material as she walked to the chair to fetch her clothes. As she dressed, she suddenly wished she'd had the time to make more clothes for herself. Her wardrobe was scanty at best, and most of what she did have was worn and faded. But it was all she had, so it would have to do. As she put away her pajamas, she suddenly had a thought.
If there were no chores, what did a person do at this hour of the morning?
Then another thought came to her…a memory, of something Jack had once written to her about in a letter...
Dear Sis,
Today I saw the funniest thing. I'd heard tell that they bring eggs and milk to your door here, every morning, and today I learned it's really true. At dawn this morning, a man in a white uniform came up to our front door and sure enough, he brought with him a basket of eggs and a jar of milk. Mama sure would be pleased to have something like that. One thing though - the milk sure tastes different than the stuff old Bessie used to give. It has kind of a sweet taste - pasteurized, they call it. Just one more thing to get used to, I suppose...
Her curiosity went wild as she thought about it. Slipping quietly from her room, she made her way down the stairs, determined to see for herself this early morning ritual Jack had described. The hall clock struck five as she opened the front door and took a look around.
The sky was soft and purple, the sun just starting to light the horizon, and the birds were chirping in the trees. Otherwise, it was very quiet and peaceful. And there was no sign of anyone, and nothing at the door. If Jack hadn't said it was so, she might have doubted that anyone or anything might be on their way. But if he had said it, she believed it. So she went to the swing to sit down, rocking back and forth as she waited.
She didn't have to sit for long.
A small white truck soon came down the street. She watched, intrigued, as the delivery man criss-crossed from one house to another, carrying his goods and placing them at each porch stoop. When he came near the Langdon house, she found she couldn't sit still a moment longer. Her curiosity was too great, and she went out to the curb to meet the driver as he approached. He seemed startled by her sudden appearance, but she paid it no mind.
She bid him good morning, sticking out her hand out in greeting. "My name is Grace. How are you?"
He gave her an odd look. But accepting her hand, he gave it a firm shake as he introduced himself.
"I'm Mike.”
She smiled shyly, realizing that she might be making trouble, but unable to help herself.
"I'm sorry if I'm bothering you, Mike. It’s just that I never saw a milkman before. I'll tell you one thing, we don't have nothin’ like this back home. You sure are doing a service to folks around here. I hope they all appreciate it as much as I do."
He still seemed a bit befuddled, but he tried to smile as he handed her the delivery of eggs, butter, and milk. She smiled at him again.
"Thanks, Mike. I've got to get in the house and make breakfast before my brother and his wife wake up. I want to surprise them. You have yourself a good day." With her goods in hand she made her way back up the sidewalk, missing the strange look on the milkman’s face.
As she came up the front step, she had a sudden feeling she was being watched. It made her think of Charlie, and she shuddered at the thought. He's another world away, she told herself. He's not watching you, and no one else is either. She laughed at herself for her silliness, and went into the house.
* * * * *
In the house across the street, the grandfather clock in the hall struck five. The sun was just showing itself out on the horizon. Lying in bed, Henry twitched in his sleep. A sheen of sweat beaded on his brow. An old foe had returned to him in the night, invading the peace of his rest…
Mortars screamed…an ear-splitting noise through the black of night. Then the ground exploded in a violent upchucking of rocks, dirt, and mud. The battering of machine-gun fire was relentless and deafening…but not loud enough to block out the sounds of lives being blown away in the blink of an eye. In the cold, muddy rows of the trenches there were the cries and moans of the dying, the barking of orders, and the shouting of men in states of near madness. Grown men, torn to bits by bullets and explosions, cried for their mothers. The stench of blood and carnage, of death, was everywhere…a putrid scent that infiltrated the nostrils and never left, no matter how long the passage of time. Men gave stark, sudden cries and fell to the ground, as puddles of red mixed with the water and mud…
He gave a slight cry he woke, trembling slightly as he lurched to a sitting position. His breathing was rapid, his eyes wide. Beside him, Victoria lifted her head, her voice drowsy.
"Henry, are you all right?"
He closed his eyes, breathing though his nose until his heartbeat slowed. Over the years, he’d gotten quite good at recovering from these night terrors. He spoke as calmly as he could.
"It's nothing, Victoria. Go back to sleep."
"Are you sure?"
He hated repeating himself, but did to quiet her. "Yes, I'm sure. Go back to sleep."
She hesitated for a moment before settling back under the covers.
He rose from the bed, calm now, but unable to go back to sleep. He stood and stared out the window, watching the dawning of the day. And he started to think about the years since he’d returned from battle…how his life had been forever altered.
Once, as a young man, he’d lived a quiet and obedient life, doing just what the world expected him to do as a man. At twenty-one he’d been newly married and just out of college. He’d been ready to officially join the family theatre business and begin his adult life. But the war had called for him first, and reluctantly he’d found himself serving in the U.S. Army, fighting on the bloody fields of France.
And France had destroyed the boy in him. The man who emerged had been an empty shell, struggling to recall what it felt like to be a human being. For years after he’d found it difficult to express deep emotions. The only feelings he found himself truly capable of were rage and deep depression, and those had been so deeply imbedded in his soul that his marriage had not withstood it. Mary, once his teenage sweetheart, had never understood why he hid away in his library so many nights, sometimes sobbing endlessly. His tears made him ashamed, and they frightened her so that she began to distance herself more and more each day. In the end, the emotional strife had been too much for them both. She had ended the union and joined her family who now lived in New York.
In time, the emptiness began to dull. But the desertion of his wife had left him wary of commitments. His only commitment now was his business, which he had transitioned from a drama theatre into a bustling nightclub. As for women, he found himself a very eligible bachelor and he never lacked female attention. Some men might have taken advantage of being free of a wife, and some would have taken the opportunity to go from bed to bed. But he found that notion unappealing. He knew he was hardly a saint, but he wasn’t a whoremonger either. Since his divorce he’d been with four women altogether, Victoria being the latest and the longest relationship.
He turned to look at her for a moment. She’d been around longer than any of his other lovers, nearly a year now. The ones before had lasted only a few months at most. Those women had come into his life knowing he wasn’t the marrying kind. And yet, in the end they had all begged for a ring on their finger. Victoria gave no hint of looking for such a union. Maybe it was because she’d been married and divorced just as he had been. Whatever the reason, she knew what they were to each other, and she never tried to take it further. And if, someday, he grew bored with the relationship and wanted to end it, she would accept it and move on. He lived his life as he pleased. That was how it was, and she could take it or leave it.
Looking out the window now, he could see John Langdon's ho
use. John had been his neighbor for many years, and his friend since their time together in the service. But it wasn't John he was thinking of at that moment.
As he looked out the window, he saw a little figure appear on the front porch. She went to sit on the swing. It was John's little sister, Grace. He knew it from her skinny little frame. As he looked at her he wondered…
Why in the hell is she out there at five o’clock in the morning?
He watched her rock back and forth on the swing, doing nothing in particular. Then the milkman came up the street, and Henry watched her as she hurried down the front walk and approached the driver. She stood there, talking to him.
What in the world is she doing? He wondered.
For several minutes he watched them talk, and then the two were shaking hands. Then she was taking her delivery and heading back up the sidewalk, where she disappeared into the house.
That girl is so odd, he thought. But then again, he’d thought she was strange when he'd met her earlier that afternoon, especially the way she’d been dressed. She couldn't be more than sixteen or seventeen at most. She wasn't a bad looking girl. A little on the thin side, maybe, but she had a pretty face and nice figure. Her voice was soft and shy, he remembered. He remembered too, the change in her eyes at his being so cold to her. A kind of fire and energy had lit in those eyes, and he thought of how, at the last moment he’d seen her, she had cursed him and called him a "grouchy bastard.” It was strange, but he got the feeling she had meant for him to hear that.