The Soldier's Bride

by Christensen, Rachelle J.

  Emika shared a room with several other polio patients, but when she began to respond to the therapy, she was moved to another floor. The music box went with her and played by her bedside as often as her mother wound the crank. There were times when her mother left to visit Emika’s aunt and take care of her baby brother. When her mother was gone, she couldn’t listen to the music because her small fingers were too weak to wind the crank. During those times, Emika would close her eyes and listen to the sounds around her, always curious how a note of the music seemed to drift into her surroundings.

  Like now, as she listened to footsteps and felt a cool breeze from the tiniest crack in the window across the room, she heard it again. The wind rustled a bit of paper on the floor, pushed against the tendrils of hair on Emika’s face, and she heard the soft clang of the metal clipboard swaying and bumping into her steel bedframe. It kept time with the wind and the song in her head.

  Her legs ached, and Emika clenched her fists against the pain. Two other children shared the room with Emika. The far corner of the room was empty. Last week, Chloe had begun shaking and the nurses couldn’t get her to stop. They rushed her out of the room to another part of the hospital. Later, when Emika and the other children asked about Chloe, the nurses looked at each other and shook their heads.

  Emika knew it was because Chloe had died. She wasn’t sure what that meant exactly, but it was very sad. She heard the nurse saying that six years old was too young to have to learn about death. Emika knew her mother cried because she was afraid of death, and her father was so quiet because death scared him, too.

  Something very bad had happened in the war with Japan. Emika had heard someone talking about bombs that blew up entire cities and killed everyone and finally ended the war. She wondered what her father would think about Japan and bombs, and his relatives who still lived in the country across the sea.

  She missed her father. He was in Colorado working and saving money to help pay for Emika’s treatment in Minneapolis. “Live to dance again”—those were the words her father had read to her before he left. He had read them to her as he looked at the music box.

  “Leland wanted you to have this music box because he wants you to try your very best to get well,” her father had whispered. “He wants you to live to dance again. We want that, too.”

  Emika didn’t think she could dance—her legs hurt so much—but she did want to live. With eyes squeezed shut, she listened to a group of people approaching her room.

  “We can’t put him here,” a woman’s voice said.

  “There isn’t another speck of available space in the hospital right now,” a male voice said. “He doesn’t even know who he is. I doubt he’ll care where we put him.”

  “Hush now, Suzy’s just bringing him around the corner,” the woman said.

  Emika cracked an eyelid and took a peek at the nurse and doctor now standing in the doorway. The familiar squeak of a rickety wheelchair echoed in the hall. Emika squinted as a nurse pushed it into the room. A man covered with white hospital blankets slumped motionless in the chair. His eyes were open, and at first Emika thought he was staring at her, but his gaze was vacant.

  The nurse they had called Suzy pushed the man to the corner across from Emika’s bed. She tucked the blanket around his legs and then turned to Emika, who immediately squeezed her eyes shut again.

  “I saw you peeking.” Suzy’s voice approached the child’s bed. “It’s okay to open your eyes. I want to tell you about this man I just brought in.”

  Emika opened her eyes a crack and the blonde-haired nurse laughed. “He won’t hurt you. He’s almost better, and we’re trying to make room for new patients.” Suzy patted her hand. “How are you feeling today?”

  Emika shook her head and listened to the crunch of the starched white pillowcase each time she moved.

  Suzy chewed on her bottom lip and then motioned to the man. “He can’t remember his name. His head was hurt really badly and then he got sick, so we’re trying to help him get better.”

  Emika turned toward the man in the wheelchair again. He looked skinny and his dark hair was shiny like hers, but his eyes were blue like the sky on a summer day.

  “I’ve got to go move another patient. Do you need anything before I leave?” Suzy asked.

  Emika shook her head.

  Suzy smiled. “You’re going to get better soon and have a big party when you go home.”

  Emika’s lips twitched but she didn’t smile. All the nurses said she would get better soon, but her legs continued to throb. Emika closed her eyes. She felt Suzy pat her hand once more, and then Emika listened to her walk across the room. She heard Suzy say hello to someone in the hall.

  “I just moved number seventy-eight,” Suzy said.

  “That’s too bad. Still suffering from memory loss?” another woman, probably a nurse, asked.

  “They brought him from the military treatment center.” Suzy said. “Severe head injuries while he was a POW. He’s only been back in the states two weeks and he gets this mess.”

  The other nurse sighed. “So many cases of polio this year, but at least his case is mild. The doctors were worried about depression and stress from the trauma, you know the problems so many of these guys are having—combat fatigue.”

  “He’s got a ring on. How he kept it through everything, I don’t know, but he probably has a family somewhere.” Suzy said.

  “It’s terrible. You think the war is over and everything should be fine, but it keeps on beating people down anyway.”

  Emika listened to their voices fade down the hall and opened her eyes again. The man stared at the floor now, his body trembling under the blankets. Emika watched him twist the gold band around his finger. Then he lifted his hands to his face and began crying.

  The man sobbed and Emika watched him, wondering how much his body hurt. She looked at the music box sitting on her bedside table and lifted her head. Her mother had wound the crank and closed the lid before she left.

  “If you get worried before I come back you can open the lid and the music will play,” she told Emika and then kissed her on the forehead. “Baby Shun misses you. I will kiss him for you and be back soon.”

  Her mother could stay at the hospital for only a few hours at a time because she had to take care of Emika’s baby brother, Shun. Emika had not seen him for nearly five months because it was too dangerous for the baby to come to the hospital.

  Emika had wanted to listen to the song again right after her mother left, but she knew it would be over too soon and then she would only have the noises of the hospital to fill the empty hours.

  The man lifted his blanket to his face to muffle his cries. When Emika had first come to the hospital she had cried until there were no tears left. Then she had listened to the wailing of the other sick children on her floor, the way their sobs echoed through the hallway and drummed against her ears until she had to cover her head with a pillow.

  This was why she loved the music box so much. When the music played, she could concentrate on its lilting melody instead of the moaning, pain-filled cries of the people around her. Emika had seen very few grownups cry, and when she had it seemed they always tried their best to hide the sounds of the sobs shaking their bodies. Children were different. Sometimes the shrieking and screaming was so loud Emika’s head throbbed from the noise. One day she had seen the nurses try to help a child who thrashed in her bed crying hysterically. They had kept trying to soothe her until her whole body shook violently and she fell silent. After they took the child out of the room, Emika had watched the nurse sink to the floor and cry, dabbing her eyes with a lacy handkerchief.

  Emika decided she didn’t want to cry anymore, and after that she rarely did. Instead, she clenched her hands so tightly that her tiny fingernails pinched at her skin and her fingers tingled.

  The man continued to cry into his blanket, and Emika pushed herself up from her bed. She reached toward the music box and pushed the button to unlatch the lid
. She opened it and the ballerina sprang to life, the first twirl was always much faster than those that followed and Emika couldn’t help but smile.

  Watching the ballerina dance in front of the mirror, Emika concentrated on the music and shut out the world. She hummed and swayed almost imperceptibly to the tune. She anticipated each note in her mind and let the music wash over her, pushing down the throbbing pain in her leg, drowning out the muffled sobs of the man.

  The ballerina began to dance slower and the tinkling music stuttered as the crank wound down its final spin. After the music stopped, Emika didn’t move because she didn’t want to break the spell the song had cast. The room was quiet and she lifted her head to look at the man in the wheelchair.

  Emika’s eyes widened when she saw the man staring at her. He was no longer crying. The blanket had fallen over his knees, and his blue eyes shone. The vacant gaze from earlier had gone, and his mouth turned up in a smile. She stared, unsure of what to do. The window across the room rattled as a gust of wind pushed against the small opening.

  The breeze caressed Emika’s face and adjusted the miniature tutu on the ballerina before blowing toward the man in the corner, and drying the tears on his cheeks.

  The ballerina swayed and moved another half circle, a piece of the music escaping with the wind. Emika watched as the man lifted his left hand in front of his face and touched the gold wedding band with his finger. He looked at Emika, his eyes bright. The corners of his mouth lifted.

  “I’ve heard that song before,” he said when it was finished. “May I wind it for you again?”

  Emika nodded. “Please.”

  After they had listened to it three times, the soldier wound it again. He lifted the lids of the side compartments. “Not much jewelry here.” He smiled at Emika.

  “My pin is in the drawer.” She motioned to the March of Dimes pin the hospital had given her. “And the secret messages are under the red fuzzy paper there.”

  “Secret messages, huh?” he pulled back the lining of the top compartment where she indicated. “Don’t die with me.” His finger trailed along the pieces of paper, reading each one. “Forgive yourself—allow God to forgive. Live to dance again.” He lifted his eyes to Emika and tears glistened on his lashes.

  “This is a special music box. I think—” he stopped and rubbed the side of his head. “I think I remember something.”

  Chapter 16 ~ Letting Go

  November 1945 ~ Evelyn

  Evelyn shivered against the chill in the air as she brushed through her hair in front of the mirror and thought about Sterling. They had known each other for nearly nine months and had dated regularly for about four, almost five if she counted the time before Harlan. She shuddered and pulled her pink shawl tighter.

  Straightening the locket she still wore, Evelyn paused, noting the shadow of pain in her eyes when she thought of Jim. Sterling told her he loved her every time they were together, and yet she still wore the locket with a picture of her dead husband. The gold chain shimmered in the light, and she tucked it inside her blouse. A knock at the door and her mother’s cheerful greetings signaled Sterling’s arrival. The stair creaked and Evelyn knew the sound indicated her mother coming to hurry her along.

  “Your handsome date is waiting,” Marie said.

  “Thanks, I’ll be right there.”

  “Please try to enjoy this evening,” Marie whispered. “I just know Jim wouldn’t want Danny to be raised without a father.”

  Evelyn’s eyes widened and she turned around to look at her mother. “Mama, I can’t.”

  “But you can.” Marie took Evelyn’s hand and squeezed it. “Danny will be two next month. I know you’ve had a setback, but you’re stronger than this.” She hugged Evelyn and murmured, “That’s all I’m going to say.”

  After Marie left the room, Evelyn closed her eyes and took a cleansing breath. Maybe her mother was right. Perhaps with time she could overcome her fears. There was hope that she could grow to love Sterling and she wouldn’t be alone anymore. He loved her. He loved Danny and she knew he could take good care of them. She enjoyed being with him and felt safe.

  For a while she had considered breaking things off with Sterling, telling him that maybe they should date other people. But Evelyn knew she’d never have the courage to trust another man the way she did Sterling. She had a good relationship with him, if only she could overcome the aching in her chest every time she thought of leaving Jim behind permanently.

  The clasp of the locket caught on a strand of her hair and she pulled it free. Perhaps one small step at a time could move her closer to making a decision about Sterling.

  With trembling fingers, she reached behind her neck to find the clasp on the gold chain. Gently tugging at the chain brought the clasp to her fingers, and she concentrated on moving the tiny lever to release the locket from her neck. The quiet moment was interrupted when a large branch from the oak tree outside scraped against her window. Evelyn jumped and her fingers lost their hold on the clasp. The wind gusted against the house and the tree beat against the windowpane again.

  Evelyn glanced in the mirror at the locket hanging near her heart. The gold shimmered against her gray silk blouse. I’ll wear it one more night, she thought. Sliding the locket under her blouse, she grabbed her handbag and headed down the stairs.

  Sterling whistled when he saw her and pulled her close. “I thought the wind was trying to steal my date,” he said.

  Evelyn smiled. “No, I think Old Man Winter’s trying to warn us he’s on his way.”

  “Mama. Stir,” Danny said and then laughed when Sterling hoisted him into the air. “I can’t believe this boy is getting so big. Are you having a birthday in a couple of weeks?”

  Danny giggled and held up one finger.

  “My baby will be two.” Evelyn helped Danny lift up his other finger. “Two, Danny, that’s right. Do you want Sterling to come to your birthday party?”

  “Cake. Stir,” Danny said and put his hands on Sterling’s cheeks.

  “I would love to come.” Sterling leaned toward Danny until their foreheads touched, and then he looked at Evelyn. “Did I tell you how beautiful you look tonight?”

  Her cheeks warmed at the compliment and she reached for Danny. “Give Mama a kiss and be a good boy for Granny.”

  “Mama. Stir,” Danny said and patted his mother’s cheek and then reached for Sterling.

  Sterling put his arm around Evelyn and Danny and gave them a hug. “I’ll see you later, buddy.” He ruffled Danny’s hair, and the little boy squirmed until Evelyn put him down. He ran to the kitchen where Marie and Harold waited with too many cookies for their only grandchild.

  “Night, Mom and Dad,” Evelyn called. “Don’t give him any more cookies. He’ll be up too late.”

  Marie peeked around the door frame. “A little sugar never hurt anyone.” She waved. “Go have a good time.”

  Sterling chuckled and took Evelyn’s hand. “Ready?”

  “You look handsome,” Evelyn said as he drove the car down the darkened street. Then she ducked her head. He did look wonderful with his blazer fitting snug across his broad shoulders. He wore the same white shirt and blue paisley tie he had the first night she’d performed at the Silver Lining. She thought of those moments when she was on the verge of happiness and wondered, was she really?

  He grinned. “I know I told you I was just taking you to dinner, but I planned something special for tonight.”

  “You’ve always got something up your sleeve, don’t you?” she said.

  He winked and broke into a wide grin as he pulled the car into a driveway—his driveway. “Here we are. We probably could’ve walked but I wanted to surprise you.”

  Evelyn laughed. “You’re taking me on a date to your house? You must be using too much gas on our dates lately.” She counted four vehicles parked outside the garage where Sterling did repairs. A few of the bushes around the house were overgrown, but the yard appeared tidy.

  “I know i
t’s been hard for you to go out and wonder what everyone’s thinking and saying about what happened, so tonight we’ll dine alone.”

  Evelyn looked down at her hands. She swallowed and then raised her head with a smile. “But I didn’t know you could cook.”

  Sterling opened the door, slid out, and reached for her hand. “There’s a lot you don’t know about me.” He took her hand and they walked into the house together.

  The aroma of roasted chicken made Evelyn’s mouth moist and she inhaled deeply.

  “Smells delicious. How beautiful,” she said as she noticed three different vases filled with freshly cut roses. “Where did you find roses like these in November?”

  Pulling one from a vase, Sterling held it toward her and smiled. “These are the last of them. This house had an established rose garden out back when my brother and I moved in, and part of it is covered—a kind of makeshift greenhouse.”

  She took the rose and touched the light pink satin petals. She lifted the rose and sniffed. “Roses and roast chicken, does your house always smell this good?”

  “Potatoes, too. Unfortunately, I think it smells like a bachelor’s home most of the time.” He led her to the kitchen table. The cream-colored linen had a few stains Sterling had tried to cover by strategically placing a vase of roses and a serving platter over them.

  Evelyn smiled and her heart warmed with appreciation for him. He was a good man. He hadn’t given up on her; instead he’d shown her how much he cared. She was thankful for the chance to spend some quiet time with him. She looked at the table and could see touches of Sterling’s devotion everywhere. The china was certainly his mother’s; the delicate pink roses painted along the sides embossed with silver caught the flickering light of the tapered candles Sterling had just lit. “You might want to put those on a dessert plate, so they don’t drip wax on your tablecloth.”