Luanne nodded and looked thoughtfully at Sean. “Dear,” she said, “the letter and necklace out of your grandmother’s things—do you remember much about the day you found them?”
Sean shrugged, pondering. “Just that they were stored away in the basement. To be honest,” he said, “I didn’t realize you were aware I’d kept them.”
Until now, Audra had forgotten she still had the manila envelope he’d let her borrow, containing the referenced letter and article clippings.
“You brought them to me one day,” Luanne said to him,
“when you happened across the box. You wanted to know about the notes and letters, all of them from Isaak. That’s what he went by—his middle name—though his given name was Jakob.”
“Jakob?” Sean said. “You’re saying it’s the same person?”
Luanne answered with a quiet, “Yes.”
Sean looked at Audra, who nodded that she already knew. What she didn’t know was how much more information awaited. And she couldn’t deny being intrigued.
“Please,” she said, “keep going.”
Lifting her posture, Luanne continued. “Sean, there’s a very specific reason you kept that necklace you’re still wearing. It belonged to a man who, by blood, was your real grandfather.”
Sean narrowed his eyes. He shook his head. “What about Grandpa Gene?”
Luanne sighed and murmured, “I’d hoped this would be easier, telling you the second time.”
“Does Mom know about this?”
“Not yet,” Luanne said. “Once you found out, I knew it was finally time to tell her. But she was so worried, with you shipping out just a few days later. And you agreed that delaying it would change nothing at this point....”
“Wait ... I remember now.” The recollection was assembling. “You and I were going to talk to her together ... after I was back from my tour.”
Luanne nodded. “We were.”
He shoved his fingers through his hair. “Grandpa Gene knew. Didn’t he?”
“Apparently so. Of course, he never said a word to me. I only learned this from reading it in Vivian’s diaries.” She suddenly turned to Audra. “Oh, I know that sounds horrible, invading someone’s privacy like that.”
Audra was well aware how it sounded, having committed the infraction herself. “It’s okay, I understand,” she said, but Luanne proceeded to explain.
“Just after they died, there was a night when Judith had been crying up a storm. She still missed her parents tucking her in. I was exhausted and missing them just as much. I pulled out some of Vivian’s old diaries, to hear her voice again. What I came across was a story about her first love. How she’d met Isaak in London, but lost track of him. Then one night he showed up in New York, in a German uniform of all things. He asked for her help to turn in a group of spies, just as you talked about. And they managed to succeed—but not before the two of them ... had...”
Wrinkles around Luanne’s mouth deepened as she trailed off. The insinuation spoke for itself. “She wrote about feeling confused and regretful. But when I realized Isaak was Judith’s father, that my brother had only gotten married for honorable reasons, I shut the book. All I could think about was getting rid of any evidence in order to protect Judith. I lit the fireplace in the middle of the night while she and Fred were asleep. I was about to toss it all in: the letters and notes from Viv’s jewelry box, the diaries, even the necklace. But I couldn’t go through with it. Rightfully they belonged to Judith.”
Luanne closed her eyes briefly, as though viewing the flames and pile of keepsakes. “Someday I was going to tell her the truth. But it was never the appropriate time for a conversation like that. I guess, eventually, I’d pushed it so far out of my mind, it just seemed like a bad dream.”
Sean appeared to be remembering all of this and more. “That’s why you’ve always avoided the subject. Especially when Mom wanted to hear about her parents.”
Luanne’s face, as before, gained a pinkish tint. “Also, because I was angry with Vivian. Or at least I wanted to be. That way I wouldn’t feel guilt over their deaths.”
At this, Sean sank back into his seat, increasing the distance between them. If Luanne had told him this part before, he clearly didn’t recall. “Why would it be your fault?”
Once more, Audra yearned to reach out and comfort him, wary of what was coming.
“Because I was jealous,” Luanne replied, and slowly shook her head. “See, what no one knew, except for my parents, was that I came down with an infection when I was seventeen. I couldn’t have babies anymore. So from then on, I wouldn’t give a fellow more than two dates before I’d casually mention how I had read the most interesting article about orphans, and I’d ask him how he felt about adopting someday. Back then, adopting was different than it is now. Every fellow would dismiss the idea, insisting he’d have his hands full with his own children. And later, when they phoned looking for another date, I’d simply have lost interest.
“Finally, though,” she said, a soft smile forming, “I met Fred. I was so crazy about him that I waited until the fourth date to give him my test. I was terrified to get the usual answer, but he shocked me. He said he had no qualms whatsoever about adopting, even preferred the idea of giving a child a home that otherwise wouldn’t have one. As it turned out, he had been adopted as a baby himself. If he’d proposed that very night, I would have said yes.”
Her pleasant expression held for a moment. Then, as if Sean’s question returned to her, the reminiscent warmth swiftly waned.
“We’d only been married a few months when Gene and Vivian asked us to watch Judith. They wanted to go to Cape Cod for the week, a belated honeymoon of sorts. By then, I’d fallen completely in love with that little girl. So much so, part of me secretly wished she could be mine....” Luanne attempted to say more but failed as her eyes clouded over.
It was then that Audra heard Tess’s words, an echo of her tough-love talk at the cemetery. Just like Meredith, even like Sean, they all harbored guilt over a tragedy that couldn’t be stopped. In the absence of someone to blame, it was all too easy to point that finger at yourself.
This was Audra’s thought, yet Sean was the one who voiced it.
“You know there was nothing you could have done, don’t you? Aunt Lu, they didn’t die in a boating accident because you wished you could somehow trade places.”
“Oh, yes,” Luanne said with little hesitation. “I realized that—after a while. All part of the healing process, I suppose.”
Whether from this particular story, the collection of admissions, or the emotional drain of the day, Audra was overcome by the ease with which she could lay down her own burden. She just regretted that it had taken the catharsis of other people’s turmoil to get here.
Audra offered, “I’m still sorry, Luanne, for bringing up parts of your past that you probably wanted to leave alone.”
“Well, I’m not,” Luanne said, seeming genuine.
Audra couldn’t imagine why anyone would be grateful about all of this, until Luanne continued.
“After we spoke at the gallery, I forced myself to go pull out that box. For the next several nights, I read the rest of the diaries. The last entry was dated about a year before they passed away. The busyness of life, I assume, hadn’t left Viv with much time to write. But leading up to that, it was filled with how much she and Gene had truly fallen in love. I’d sensed it from being around them, of course, but reading it in her own personal words helped confirm what I’d always hoped inside.”
Sean was leaning forward again, more relaxed now. By rebuilding another section of his history, maybe his nights would become restful sooner—much like Jack’s could if only someone knew the answers.
At this stage, Audra figured, what could it hurt to ask?
“In Vivian’s diaries, it didn’t say anything about what really happened to Isaak, did it?”
Luanne replied solemnly, “It did, dear. She said he was executed.”
; Oh, boy. Audra would have to find a tactful way to provide the latest update.
“About that,” she began, and Sean raised a brow. “There’s a woman Sean put me in touch with to help do some research. She claims Isaak was only given prison time. And that years later, he was granted clemency for collaborating and was deported to Germany. But then he disappeared.”
Luanne’s eyes widened. “I never heard a thing about it.”
Audra immediately saw there was no need to speculate over Isaak’s true demise. If there was ever an airplane connection, it seemed they would never know.
“Whatever the case,” Sean said to Luanne, “I’d say it’s time for us to follow through and tell Mom together.”
In a heavy manner, Luanne agreed. “I don’t expect forgiveness—I’ ve withheld too much for too long. But she does deserve to know.”
“I’m sure she’ll understand,” Audra assured her, “if you explain everything like you did just now.”
Luanne extended a grateful look. Then she shook her head and let out a dry laugh. “I was a fool to think I could outrun the past. It has much quicker feet than I do anymore.”
When Sean’s lips spread into a smile, Audra’s did the same. It went without saying that the past kept a faster pace than them all.
64
Throughout supper, Vivian consciously focused on the present, not the future. Her discussion with Mrs. Langtree from earlier that day made this a difficult yet necessary task. The topic wasn’t appropriate for company until Vivian could broach the matter with Gene, even if the guests were both family.
Luanne and Fred, married three months now, had come to celebrate Judith’s birthday. The couple had first met at a diner just blocks from the law firm where Luanne worked as a secretary. When they announced their engagement four months later, ending Luanne’s long run of passing courtships, Vivian’s initial shock fast became delight. Gene was as cautious as any big brother ought to be, particularly one in Intelligence, but Fred gave no grounds for objection. He was a kind, average-looking fellow enrolled as a medical student at NYU. He had discovered his interest in the field while serving as an Army medic primarily in Burma. Although he didn’t say much about his tour-a commonality among combat vets-his political opinions tended to flow a bit more after a glass of wine.
“I know there’s some folks out there who question it in hindsight,” he said between bites of glazed ham, “but I, for one, am grateful we dropped those A-bombs.”
Gene took another gulp of his milk, not one to indulge ever again in anything stronger.
“Those Japs never would’ve given up otherwise. I’m telling you, we’d be fighting Tojo to this day.”
Gene continued to eat his scalloped corn, adding nothing.
His silence was not missed by Vivian.
“How bad is it?” she had recently asked, regarding his analysis reports from Japan.
He had answered with a shake of his head, his eyes moistening before he looked away. And Vivian knew he would never burden her with gruesome details of the explosion’s aftermath. Nor would she press for more.
“Last I heard,” Fred went on, “Truman’s estimating up to a million of our soldiers were saved because of those drops. Is that about right, Gene?”
“So they say,” he replied, and took a hefty bite of his roll.
The sacrifice of a few for the good of many was no doubt a noble stance, but not one as readily accepted when those few had a face. Vivian could relate to this much firsthand.
At the sudden lull, she swooped in with a smile. “Who’s up for some lemon meringue?” From that point on, she aimed to keep the conversation as light as their dessert.
All the while Luanne stayed blissfully preoccupied. Making the vroom sounds of a plane, she flew spoonfuls of peas into Judith’s mouth. The youngster wriggled in her wooden high chair, giggling from giddiness, as she always did with her aunt. Luanne indeed was a natural-born mother.
It was for this reason that her lack of interest in Judith, back in her infant stage, had been an unsettling surprise. Despite Gene’s vow of secrecy, Vivian had wondered how much his sister truly knew. But then one evening, during a visit with Luanne, Judith suffered a spike in fever that resulted in a seizure. The episode was short and ultimately harmless but terrified both women regardless.
Therein a fresh bond was born, and once more Vivian witnessed the seeping of light through a moment of darkness.
An hour later, with Luanne and Fred gone, the dishes washed, and Judith bathed, Vivian prepared for her approach.
From the door of Judith’s room she watched Gene tuck their daughter into her crib. She looked so cozy in the new pajamas Luanne had made.
“Kiss ’Ippo.” Judith held up the floppy giraffe he had given her to mark the special day.
“Good night, Hippo.” Gene gave the animal a peck, snuggled it under the blanket, and said to Judith, “Sweet dreams, my little monkey.”
“Ooh-ooh, ahh-ahh,” she replied on cue. Gene had coined the nickname when, as a newborn, she would squirm, cling, and suck her thumb like a baby chimp.
Then he said, “I love you, Jujube. With all my heart.”
“I wuv you too, Daddy.”
He leaned over the rail and kissed Judith’s forehead. When he stood up, rather than clicking off her lamp, he rubbed her face with his thumb. The soothing motion caused her eyelids to droop, her blinks to lengthen.
While there was beauty in the scene, Vivian also sensed a heaviness. It was the tone of Gene’s voice, the intensity of his eyes. Over the past few weeks, she would frequently jar him from spells of thought. His work at the base appeared to be taking a greater toll than usual.
Perhaps he was picturing the images he had seen, the Japanese and European youth caught in the cross fire. Children who would never again hug their stuffed toys or sleep restfully in their beds.
Counting her blessings, Vivian left the sweet pair to their privacy. In the bathroom, then bedroom, she readied for sleep. As Gene did the same, she sat in bed, waiting. Propped against her pillow, she absently perused a magazine. At last, he settled beneath the covers in his boxers and undershirt.
“I saw Mrs. Langtree today,” she said, faster than intended.
Gene mumbled his acknowledgment and set the alarm on his two-belled clock. Vivian slowed her pace.
“Her sister, the one who lives in Tampa, she’s asked Mrs. Langtree to move in with her. Since Mrs. Langtree needs surgery on her knees, and with the start of her arthritis, she doesn’t think it’s wise to live alone much longer.”
“Yeah?” he said, putting the clock down.
“She’s considered listing her house on the market. With the flood of buyers these days, she could surely get a pretty penny. But, well, you see, she was hoping”–and here it went–“that maybe you and I would be interested.”
Gene adjusted his head on his pillow.
“Honey? Did you hear me?”
“Sorry. How was that?”
She withheld a groan, knowing better than to take offense. He typically afforded her his full attention. She set the magazine on her night table and cut to the point. “Mrs. Langtree wants to sell her house to us. For a whole thousand dollars under market value.”
Surprise shone in his eyes, though only a flicker.
“I know we were going to wait until next year to buy a place, but this is just too marvelous to pass up. Don’t you think?”
“I don’t know, Vivi. Maybe.”
When it came to major decisions-marriage proposal excluded-he was not one to act on impulse. Yet in this case, the window of opportunity was narrow and closing.
“You’ve practically rebuilt half the place as it is. And Judith loves it there. Plus, it has all the things you and I have always talked about. A nice neighborhood, a large, airy kitchen, a wraparound porch. We could even hang a chair there to swing on.”
He sighed, eyes toward the ceiling.
Though at risk of pressuring him, she would have to address
a sensitive but vital factor. Without it, he would not agree.
“If it’s a matter of the down payment,” she added, “you know I can help with that.”
“Vivian-”
“Please, just listen.” He was looking at her now. “I’ve thought about it all day. The can of money I’ve put away since I was a little girl. This should be what we spend it on.”
“Doll, that’s not what you saved it for.”
“No,” she conceded, “it’s not.”
What he didn’t know was that using the fund for something other than a cross-country family trip was not a new thought.
During the last year of the war, she had served as a volunteer for the USO. Most often, she would hand out coffee and donuts to soldiers at Grand Central. Occasionally, while Luanne babysat Judith, Vivian would find herself near the ticket booth, daydreaming of buying a pass, jetting off on a whim. But those moments were fleeting, and any notions of regret vanished at the sight of Judith’s grin or the milky scent of her head. At night, Gene would wrap Vivian safely in his arms, even in his sleep, and a feeling would overcome her, that everything in her life had led to this place.
“Gene, someday I’d love for us to travel together. But all of that can wait. Besides, you know I want to work again when Judith gets older, so I could just save up again. Until then, the house would be so big, it would be like living on our own island.” The thought of the home’s spaciousness guided her to the last missing component.
She ran her hand over the fabric of his shirt, the slightly softened muscles. “I should tell you, though, there is one problem with the house.” Arching a brow, she said, “We’d have an entire third bedroom to fill.”
He didn’t respond, even to her playful tack.
Few decent men would accept a dime from others, including their wives. At least not without minimal protest. This she had anticipated. But his resistance seemed to stem from something else. Something he wasn’t saying.
She flattened her palm over his heart, wishing she could read his pulse. “If there’s another issue,” she said, “you know you can tell me.”
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