by Shirley Roe
“Jenny, my Jenny. You are just like Zachariah, always wanting to take home strays.” Harry laughed out loud.
“Wait a minute, I was one of Zachariah's strays and look how I turned out.” The two enjoyed a laugh before Jenny returned to the subject at hand. “Please Harry?”
He could not say no and as expected, Harry agreed to meet Walter.
Walter was a tall boy with blond curly hair, and his face could only be described as angelic. He stood with his head down and his hands behind his back while Harry talked to him. Harry asked him if he liked flowers. “Flowers? Oh yes, Sir, I like flowers and trees very much. They talk to me sometimes.”
Harry smiled. “Do you like little children, Walter?” One of his concerns was Walter's involvement with Rose. Harry was a very protective father.
“I always tell stories to the little ones at the orphanage. They like my stories.” Hamish arrived and Harry watched the youngster with the dog. Hamish did not hesitate to go straight to Walter and sniff his shoes. Walter laughed and began to talk to Hamish. Hamish looked up very attentively, his tail wagging. Harry was convinced. Young Walter moved into the house a week later and was hired as the apprentice gardener.
The McDonalds, with their three-year-old son Jake, joined Jenny, Harry and Rose for dinner. Rose loved the red haired, Jake and the children played well together. Rose's dark head tossed to and fro and she explained some imaginary creature to wide-eyed Jake. “Let's go outside and find Walter, he is ever so funny. He will show you the slugs.” Off they ran to the garden.
“Looks like Walter is a hit with Rose. How is he fitting in Jenny?” Amy was not surprised that Jenny had convinced Harry to let Walter move in. He gave her whatever she wanted. Amy smiled at Harry, who rolled his eyes.
“Walter is a wonderful addition to our family. Rose loves him and so do we.” Jenny looked at Harry for confirmation.
“Yes we do. Walter is a joy to have around.” He smiled at Jenny and then turned his attention to Amy. “How are things at the Red Cross Amy?” Amy was working with Jenny at the Red Cross, but she had another passion. Amy was deeply involved with the suffrage movement. As the one of the leaders of the Scottish Federation of the Women's Suffrage Societies, she was instrumental in forming the Scottish Women's Hospital organization. Nurses supplemented the nurse corps of the Allied powers on the eastern front, helping the Russian, Romanian and Serbian troops.
“The Red Cross is fine, but the Suffrage Society is my main concern. I'm telling you, women are joining the association in droves. We all want to show our loyalty for the British Empire. We will have the vote before long.” Harry was proud of his cousin. He had been instrumental in helping her form the nurse's organization. However, he was not sure that women should be given the power to vote. Gordon agreed with Harry, but as usual, remained silent. Harry was worried about Gordon. He seemed very distracted. Jenny also noticed that Gordon was even more quiet than usual; something was definitely on his mind.
That night, as they lay in bed, Jenny brought up the subject of Gordon. “Do you think there is something wrong with their marriage? He is very quiet.”
“I am not sure, but Gordon is a very deep thinker. I know he is concerned about this war. His great love of research has led him to study the war in depth.” Harry rolled over and kissed her goodnight. “Go to sleep Jenny, you can't solve everyone's problems.”
Shortly after that night, Gordon joined the war effort. Amy was very upset and convinced her father to speak to Brigadier Gardiner about getting Gordon a desk job. Two days before Gordon was to report to the war office in London, he received notice that his posting had changed and he was to be sent to France. Amy was beside herself. He was gone to fight and there was nothing she could do.
War raged on for four years and the Royal Scots lost 10,000 men. The city was surprised when the Canadian Expeditionary Force, impressed by the hospitality shown them, raised money for the Red Cross in Scotland. The money was used to build homes for veterans.
In England, Elizabeth McKitterek's baby boy, Eddie, was born, without her husband. She and her family endured squadron sized raids by numerous German Zeppelins. The bombings were always at night and in the dark of the moon. It was a terrifying time. Many times she thought of sending her children north as many families did, but with her parents help, she managed to keep her family safe.
An attack on June 13th, resulted in the first daylight raid on London causing 162 deaths and 432 injuries. Among the dead were 46 children killed by a bomb falling on a kindergarten. The public was shocked as daylight raids were totally unexpected. The British defence was unprepared for such attacks.
The Drurys and the McKittereks, along with the other Brits, lived in terror for four long years. Every letter from Tim that made it through, was like a beacon of hope for Elizabeth. Every Sunday, she sat in a church, filled with women and children, and begged God to bring her husband home safely.
When Tim returned from the front in 1918, his son, Eddie was three years old. Tim McKitterek was a different man. He bore the scars of war on his body and his mind. A long scar traveled from his hairline, down his forehead to his left eyebrow and he had other scars on his arms and legs from flying shrapnel, but it was his mental state that worried the family. War was cruel and it would be years before he was able to sleep at night without the horrible nightmares that plagued him. Tim's brother-in-law, Sammy, had lost part of his leg and returned home six months before Tim. Often the two of them would meet in the pub where they could talk in private about their experiences.
“I can't seem to get the sight of the Lieutenant out of my mind, Sammy. Six men in the trench, and a bloody bomb falls near us. There he was shouting orders one minute and the next minute his belly is blown wide open and his cold eyes are staring at me. It haunts me every night.”
“I know, Tim. I watched fourteen of my best mates get blown to pieces by German hand grenades. I was lucky it only took my leg.”
“War is hell, Sammy. Hell, I tell you. I don't know if I can ever forget what I saw or what I did.”
“We saw some horrible things over there, horrific things, but we are home now and we have to put it behind us. Whatever we did, we did under orders.”
Sammy had lost his leg, but he was in a much better mental state than Tim. Often Sammy would talk to Megan about her brother. “He just sits and stares out the window at some unseen battlefield. Or, he flinches at any loud noise as if he were back at war. I don't know if Tim is capable of ever forgetting war.” Megan just shook her head and prayed Tim would recover.
Arthur tried to get him to talk about his experience. “Tim, old Mrs. Jordan was telling me that she lost her son in the Kent Battalion, somewhere near Arras. Now, apparently the poor old dear just lost her grandson in hospital after his return. A sorry business this war.”
He watched Tim's face turn cold and again he tried to start a conversation, but Tim refused. “Some things are best left on the battlefield, Arthur.”
Tim knew that he was worrying everyone and did his best to hide his turmoil. He stood in front of the mirror as he washed for dinner. Scars covered his chest and arms and a long scar ran down his face. Seeing them in his reflection brought it all back. Pictures flashed in his mind of bodies strewn across a muddy landscape, men running, and explosions one after the other until he thought his eardrums would burst. So many of his comrades were stricken down around him, and yet here he was alive and back home. Why them and not him? He was thankful that he had returned home alive, but he was racked with guilt. So many of his friends and comrades who lay dead on some deserted battlefield, or buried in some unmarked grave, would never come home again. Every night he dreamt of bodies lying in heaps, dead men's eyes staring at him and the screams of the dying and injured men.
Tim was in turmoil. In his heart, he was happy to be back with the family, but he could not fight the depression. He loved Elizabeth and his children very much, but he could not forget.
Sammy and Arthur convinced
Tim that he needed to keep busy, so he went back to work, but at times Arthur wondered if he would ever see the old Tim again. Tim went through the motions, but the spark was gone. Elizabeth was patient and understanding. She loved her husband and she would do whatever was necessary to help him recover. It disturbed her when he would grow silent and moody, but she kept encouraging him. She would not give up. The children made an effort to sit and talk with Tim whenever they could. He responded well to the children and often Elizabeth could see the light in his eyes returning.
The best days Tim had, were right after attending a reunion with his battalion mates in London. At first Elizabeth didn't want him to go, but Arthur convinced her it was for the best. “He needs to talk with men that went through it with him. It is good therapy, Elizabeth. We can't imagine what he experienced. The lad needs help.” She knew her father was right. She let him go without an argument. She prayed for the days before the war, the days when they were happy together.
When Tim came back, he did seem a little better. She would take it one day at a time.
One day as Tim was returning from work, the police arrived at the door. “Mr. Tim McKitterek?” The officer removed his hat. Tim just stared at him.
“Yes, I'm Tim McKitterek.” Elizabeth stood behind her husband wondering what the police wanted with him.
“We would like to come in.” Tim moved aside allowing the two officers to enter. Elizabeth offered them a chair and a cup of tea. They accepted.
“What is this about?” Tim was growing agitated.
“I am afraid we have some bad news.” Tim looked into the kitchen. Elizabeth moved toward him. She sat down beside him and took his hand.
“What is it? Out with it, man.” Tim was getting more agitated. He feared something had happened to his mother in London.
“We have recovered a body out on the old farmstead, near the cottage where you used to live. We think it is your father.” Tim stared at them in silence.
“Why do you think its, Mr. McKitterek? “ Elizabeth interjected.
“I am afraid he was wearing a silver cross that has been identified as his. Here it is.”
Tim stared at the cross. His father never took it off. It was not common for men to wear jewelry, but the cross was Tim's grandmother's and his father always wore it.
The policeman continued. “His pay stub was in his pocket. The body is badly decomposed.” The policemen picked up their tea and let the news sink in.
Tim was still staring. He didn't say a word. Finally, Elizabeth asked him if he was all right.
“Yes, I am fine.” He looked at the policeman. “Dead, but how?” He could not believe it. After all these years, his father had not run off. He had been lying there, close to the cottage all these years; he was dead. “What happened to him?”
“He was shot. There is clear evidence that someone shot him in the head. Of course, after all these years we have no other evidence. We will never know what happened.” The first officer turned to the second, who added.
“Unless you can tell us what happened.” Tim stared back in shock; did they think he had something to do with his father's death?
“Me? Why do you think I know anything?” Suddenly he realized that he was a suspect.
“Sometimes family disagreements turn sour. We're just asking.” The second man set his cup down and stared at Tim coldly. This set Tim off.
He stood up, shouting at the men. “Get out of my house! How dare you come here and accuse me of hurting my father. I loved my father. I worked day and night to support the family after he left.” Tim was hysterical. Elizabeth was beside herself. She didn't know what to do. The two policemen headed for the door. Tim's face was as white as a ghost and he was shaking all over. Tim screamed after them, “How dare you accuse me, I gave up the only woman I ever loved because he left, I gave up my life.”
At the last sentence, Elizabeth turned white. The policemen left quickly. Tim collapsed on the chair, head in hands. Elizabeth walked toward the kitchen, tears streaming down her face.
Tim didn't realize what he had said in the outburst, but Elizabeth McKitterek would never forget those words.
Chapter Nineteen
Gordon had been home for months, but things were strained. Amy discussed it with Jenny. “I'm telling you, something horrible must have happened to Gordon when he was over there fighting those bloody Germans. He has terrible nightmares and sometimes he just stares out the window with this terribly pained look on his face.” Amy twisted her handkerchief in her hands, and Jenny could see she was distraught.
“War is a horrible experience for anyone. You should know that from the many wounded soldiers we visited in the hospitals here. You are just lucky that Gordon is alive and still has his limbs. You must give him some time to recover mentally.” Jenny did not know what else to say.
“How much time? He is not the same man I married. I love Gordon and I want him back. Damn that bloody war to hell, damn those bloody Germans to hell.”
Jenny had never seen Amy so upset. “Calm down Amy and watch your language, the children might hear you.”
“I'm sorry, Jenny, I am just so angry.” Jenny patted Amy's shoulder reassuringly.
Jenny stood up and went to check on Rose and Jake. The two children were playing quietly in the conservatory, and Walter was supervising the games. He smiled at Jenny reassuringly. Satisfied that they were not giving Walter any trouble, Jenny returned to find Amy sobbing.
“Oh my, come on now. Where is that strong suffragette woman that I love? You will see Gordon improve as the weeks pass. Now don't cry.” Jenny hugged her friend. Her own heart was breaking to see her so sad. She would ask Harry to speak with Gordon. Perhaps he could help him.
Harry did speak with Gordon and suggested that Gordon find someone that he could talk to about his experiences. Harry offered to be that person, but Gordon needed someone that could empathize with his situation. As much as he and Harry were friends, the war was something they could not share. Sometimes Harry felt guilty for being crippled and unable to go to war.
Gordon began to spend more and more time at the hospital with the wounded soldiers, and Amy grew more and more alienated from her husband.
“I'm telling you, Jenny, Gordon would rather be with those wounded men, than with his family. Jake hardly knows who Gordon is.”
“Don't say that, Amy, Jake loves his father.”
“His father was gone for years and now he is hardly ever home. I just don't know what to do.” She wiped a tear from her cheek. “If that damn Lord Provost John Murphy hadn't interfered, Gordon would have been in London for the duration of the war; safely working in the offices instead of on the bloody front lines. Damn that Murphy family to hell.”
Jenny had been very upset when Harry informed her and Amy that it was John Murphy that had been responsible for Gordon's change in posting. She put her arm around her friend, but remained silent. Harry was as upset as Amy was with the Murphys. Jenny felt responsible knowing that John Murphy was seeking revenge on Gordon for the beating he gave Ian Murphy, and it was all because of her. She didn't know what to say.
The following week, Gordon announced that he was going to a reunion with some of the men in his battalion. He had been invited to one several months ago, but had refused. This time he was going to go and he would be in London for a fortnight. Amy was upset, but Harry assured her that it might help him to see his fellow soldiers. She helped him pack and reluctantly waved goodbye at the train station. “Is Da coming back, Mama?” She looked down at Jake and burst into tears. Jake looked at her sadly.
“Of course he is, Jake. Now let's go and see Aunt Jenny and Rose, shall we?”
When they arrived at Jenny's, Amy was still upset. “Harry, I hope this visit with his soldier pals helps Gordon because nothing I do seems to.” Amy and Harry relaxed in the great room.
“Many of the soldiers returned home different men. It is one of the horrors of war, Amy. You just have to be patient with Gordon. I
tried to talk to him, but he just said that what happened over there should stay over there.” Harry patted her hand.
“Let's hope he can talk with his mates. Maybe that is why they all want to get together. Maybe that is why Gordon spends so much time with the wounded. They can talk amongst themselves about things that the rest of us don't understand.” Amy was doing her best to understand, but the tension was growing between the two of them.
Jenny appeared with the two youngsters. “Did Harry tell you about his new Rolls Royce? He is like a boy with a new toy.” She smiled at Harry. Rose ran to sit on her father's knee.
“When can we go for a ride, Da? I want to ride in the new car. Stewart told me it is very fancy and I want to ride in the fancy car.”
“Jake too, Jake wants to go, too,” squealed Jake.
“Stewart told you it was fancy, did he? Well then, we will have to take you and Jake for a ride and you can decide for yourself.” Everyone laughed.
“Don't forget, Walter, he knows all about cars and Stewart is teaching him to fix all the cars. Walter is so smart.” Rose loved Walter, and Walter was now part of the family. Although he was an employee, he spent time with the children and was given full rein of the house and the grounds. Jenny had tried to teach him some simple math skills and basic reading, but she wasn't having much luck. Harry was very surprised at the interest in cars that Walter expressed. He asked the chauffeur, Stewart, to take the lad under his wing. Jenny was very fond of Walter, they all were.
“Walter is very clever indeed, Rose. Now come and sit with Aunt Amy and tell me about the new dresses your Mama bought you.” The visit was doing Amy the world of good. With Gordon away, she was feeling stronger every day. Life with him had become a burden and she did not know what to do.