The Soldier's Bride

by Christensen, Rachelle J.

  Chapter 22 ~ Walking

  December 1945 ~ Emika

  Emika gripped the crutches and propelled herself forward. The brace on her right leg jangled. She struggled to straighten her leg, the muscles tight with the movement.

  “Wonderful,” the nurse said. “Now take three more steps.”

  Gritting her teeth, she took another step and paused for a breath. She followed the same routine each day, trying to walk with a crippled leg. The polio virus had attacked her body, and as the nurse explained it frightened her legs so much, they didn’t want to work anymore. So each day, Emika would concentrate on telling her legs not to be afraid and taking one painful step at a time to show the nurse how brave she could be.

  The physical therapy stretched her muscles, and sometimes Emika cried out when her legs throbbed during the night, the muscles reacting to the treatment. The nurses would come with soothing voices and warm cloths and tell her what a good job she was doing.

  “You’ll show those legs who’s boss,” joked the nurse with straight black hair like Emika’s.

  After each therapy session, Emika was allowed to rest. Sometimes her mother would read to her. At other times, the nurse would wind the music box for her and Emika would close her eyes and focus on the song.

  She knew there was magic in that song. It had made the man feel better. Emika remembered how he had stopped crying, and in only a few weeks he was well enough to leave the center. She heard the nurses talking about that, too.

  “If he didn’t have a ring on his finger, I’d take him home with me.” One nurse had giggled.

  “I wonder where his wife is, if she has any idea that he’s alive,” another nurse said.

  “If our own government couldn’t even tell him who he was, she must’ve thought he was dead. Poor thing. This whole time she was probably trying to put her life back together.”

  The nurses had continued chattering as they walked down the hall, and Emika listened to their voices echoing against the sterile walls. She tried to cling to the sounds of laughter, since it was hard for her to laugh. For some reason, things weren’t as funny or bright as she remembered.

  “Hello, Emika. Let me wind your music box for you,” the nurse named Suzy said. She smiled and patted Emika’s arm. “I think we need to make you a chart to help you keep track of time.”

  “Why?” Emika asked.

  “Because, there isn’t much time left until you’ll be going home,” Suzy said.

  “Home?” Emika smiled, but then stopped and licked her lips. “My legs still hurt.”

  Suzy rubbed her hands over Emika’s legs. “If you keep working as hard as you have been, you’ll beat this thing. You’ll still have to do some work at the hospital in your hometown, but I think your legs are getting stronger.”

  The blue diamonds on her blanket blurred together and Emika blinked and rubbed her eyes. “When can I go home?”

  “I talked to your mother today, and we think if you work extra hard, you’ll be able to go home for Christmas.”

  “Mama said that?”

  Suzy straightened Emika’s blanket and smiled. “Yes. You rest now and think about our next therapy session.” She opened the music box compartment and ran a finger along the velvet lining as the ballerina sprang to life.

  Emika nodded and watched the ballerina dance. She counted the tiny pirouettes: one, two, three, four, five, six. That’s how old she was, and if she could just make her legs work right, she’d be home before she turned seven.

  Chapter 23 ~ Christmas Gifts

  December 1945 ~ Leland

  In a darkened corner of Leland’s workshop, a work of art remained covered with a blue-and-white-striped sheet. The secretary desk with ornate scrollwork along the top and sides stayed hidden from view. The first time someone had seen the desk, they offered Leland an exorbitant sum on the spot and left disappointed when he told them that it belonged to someone else and it was one of a kind.

  Of course he’d taken orders for desks of a similar nature, but he refused to replicate Mrs. Tanaka’s desk. With all the orders flowing into his shop, it had taken him almost six months to complete the desk. In his spare time, he had worked meticulously on each detail, referring back to Shunsaku’s drawings over and over again.

  After Emika fell ill with polio, Shunsaku had taken a job in Colorado Springs to try to earn more money to pay for the treatments she received in Minnesota at a special therapy hospital.

  Twice, Shunsaku had written to Leland. In the first letter he apologized and told Leland that because of hospital expenses, they might have to sell their home and would not be able to buy the desk. Leland had written back and told Shunsaku not to lose hope, that the desk wasn’t finished anyway, so it wasn’t ready for purchase.

  The second letter had arrived a week ago. Leland’s eyes had misted over when he read of Emika’s recovery and subsequent progress in relearning to walk. But the most wonderful news concerned the March of Dimes organization. Shunsaku’s family had been given a large sum of money to pay for Emika’s hospital expenses. They would be able to keep their home and planned to return shortly. Leland tugged at the sheet, ran his hand along the finely sculpted hardwood, and smiled.

  The afternoon sun dipped low in the sky, and he hurried to mark the measurements of a dining table before the light disappeared. The two exposed bulbs provided sufficient light to work by in the front end of the workshop, but he relied on the bank of windows to illuminate his workspace at the back. The scratching of his pencil against the wood mimicked the sound of the tree branches brushing the rooftop.

  When someone knocked three times in quick succession, the door rattled against its hinges. Leland swung the door open and felt a jolt of pleasure when he recognized the dark eyes of Shunsaku Tanaka.

  Shunsaku removed his hat and bowed his head. “I have returned and am hoping that my good fortune continues.”

  “The desk is finished,” Leland said. “I was so happy to hear of Emika’s recovery. Please come inside and have a look.”

  “I would like to see it, but it will be some time before I can finish paying you.”

  Leland held up his hand. “The desk is paid for. I’ll arrange to deliver it to your home tomorrow if you like.”

  Shunsaku shook his head. “No, I cannot take from you.”

  “Please, Shunsaku, let me do this for Emika.”

  “But we’ve already been given so much. I do not want to be greedy.”

  Leland nodded. “ I understand, but I’ve collected six orders for desks built in the same style—not exact replicas—but fancy by their own right.” He rubbed his fingers together. “I’ve got more money coming in from those orders than almost all the rest combined.”

  Shunsaku rocked back and forth on his heels seeming to digest the information Leland had given him.

  “I want your family to have this desk,” Leland said. He walked to the corner where the sheet hung haphazardly over the large structure. Pulling the sheet off, Leland moved his arms in a flourish. “I present to you one of the finest pieces I’ve ever made.”

  For a moment, silence surrounded the two men, and then with halting steps Shunsaku reached for the desk. His work-worn hand ran over the edges of the wood just as Leland’s had earlier, delicately fingering the scrollwork, tapping the inlaid glass cabinets. “It is like I have gone back in time, to when Serena’s mother was still alive and this desk was her prized possession.”

  “I’m glad you like it,” Leland replied. “Now when did you say Emika and Serena were returning?”

  “They will be here in two days.” Shunsaku ran a hand over the smooth skin of his cheek. “Emika is so excited to be home in time for Christmas.”

  “And won’t Serena be thrilled to have her Christmas gift delivered early?” Leland held up a hand when Shunsaku again began to protest. “No, you’ve said your piece and I’ve said mine. There are many ways you’ve already paid me. I hope to remain your friend and be able to see sweet Emika dance again.” L
eland arranged the sheet back over the desk. “I want your family to have a Merry Christmas.”

  Shunsaku bowed his head. When he looked up, his eyes glistened and his face stretched into a joyous smile. “I thank you, for I have just imagined my wife’s face when she sees this desk.”

  Leland chuckled. “Now that’s something I don’t want to miss.” He clapped Shunsaku on the back as they walked to the shop entrance. “I have a friend who can help me load this up and we’ll bring it by sometime Friday.”

  “Thank you, Leland. I will repay you with every kindness I can.” Shunsaku turned the knob and a blast of air swung the door wide. Holding onto his hat, Shunsaku turned and looked at the cotton sheet billowing in the wind. Leland’s masterpiece peeked from beneath the rustling fabric.

  Leland stepped outside with Shunsaku and pulled the door tight behind him. When he waved good-bye, he noticed the moon cresting toward its zenith in the sky. The yellowish light glowed on the tree branches overhead swaying and creaking, and Leland smiled. He was no longer afraid of the future.

  Chapter 24 ~ Going Home

  December 1945 ~ Emika

  Emika opened her music box and lifted the special March of Dimes pin from the compartment. The nurse had explained to Emika and her mother about a special fund set up by President Roosevelt to help children suffering from polio. The March of Dimes was paying for most of Emika’s treatment, and they had sent along the pin for her to wear to remind people how much one dime could help a child—the way it had helped her.

  “Mommy, can I wear my pin on the train ride home?” Emika held the red, white, and blue tin badge toward her mother. “What does it say again?”

  “It says, Fight Infantile Paralysis, March of Dimes,” her mother pointed to each word as she spoke.

  “It means kids like me that wear leg braces.” Emika pointed at the pile of metal and brown leather braces beside her bed.

  “Yes, but it also means children like you who are getting better and won’t have to wear leg braces anymore.” Her mother smiled and patted Emika’s leg.

  Emika looked at her legs and wiggled her toes. She remembered the days when nurse Suzy brought in a radio. They listened to Judy Garland sing “Over the Rainbow” and heard a special announcement about the March of Dimes. So many people had polio and everyone wanted to help. And now because of their help, Emika would soon board a train in Minneapolis and travel back to Colorado. She would be home for Christmas.

  The battered suitcase sat open on the end of her bed. Her mother placed Emika’s few belongings over the red-and-cream–striped paper lining of the suitcase. When she reached for the music box, Emika said, “Wait. Can I hear the song one more time before we go?”

  With some hesitation, her mother wound the music box and opened the top. Emika smiled and leaned back against her pillow. Closing her eyes, she remembered what the soldier had told her the day he remembered his name.

  “There’s something I learned in the war from the people who helped me.” He leaned toward Emika and spoke softly. “Listen close enough and you can change the world.”

  Nibbling on her fingernail, Emika thought of the words.

  She listened. She heard the music, the wind howling against the windowpanes, people shuffling about the room, her mother adjusting the suitcase, and for a brief moment she thought she heard something else. Emika opened her eyes when the music stopped, and she smiled. She was going home now and all would be well.

  Chapter 25 ~ Delivering Happiness

  December 1945 ~ Leland

  It took some doing, but Leland and his good friend Keith Harper were able to load the desk into the back of his pickup. Leland wrapped it carefully with sheets and blankets, and he drove slowly to Shunsaku’s neighborhood.

  “Thanks again for helping me with this,” he told Keith.

  “No problem. I did want to ask if you could help me move a couple of pieces of furniture after.”

  “Sure, I don’t have any plans.” Leland tipped the visor to block the afternoon sun.

  “It’s for my sister. She’s new in town, doesn’t live too far from the address you gave me for this desk,” Keith said. “Her husband died in Pearl Harbor.”

  Leland shook his head. “That’s too bad. Pilot or navy?”

  “He was on the Arizona. Sophie took it pretty hard. No closure. Went to pieces when she heard some of those men were alive for days inside the ship.” Keith rubbed his fingers over his beard. “She has a six-year-old boy and a four-year-old girl.”

  “That must be tough on her.”

  “That’s why she came to Aspen Falls. My parents and I want to help her.” Keith pointed to a white house with blue shutters. “It was 376, right?”

  “Yep, this is it.” Leland smiled. He’d thought about this moment several times over the past few days. Less than two weeks until Christmas, and he looked forward to being Santa’s helper.

  Shunsaku opened the door before Leland could knock. He tilted his head to the back of the house. “I told Serena she needed to read a story to Emika. I don’t think she has any idea.”

  Leland chuckled. “Hope she likes surprises.”

  They worked quickly and quietly to bring the heavy desk into the front room and situate it where Shunsaku indicated. Then he left the room and returned leading his wife.

  “Keep your eyes closed,” Shunsaku whispered. He smiled at Leland. “We have a visitor. You can open your eyes now.”

  Serena’s eyes went first to Leland and then to the desk directly behind him. “It can’t be.” She burst into tears as she came forward to grip Leland’s hand and examine the desk. Wiping her eyes with a hankie, she shook her head. “This is beautiful. You’ve done marvelous work.” She turned to her husband. “But how?”

  “Christmas came early,” Leland offered. “Santa Claus needed a little help delivering this one.”

  Serena opened her mouth to protest, but was interrupted by Emika’s tentative entrance. “Look, I’m walking.” The little girl grinned and pointed at her legs.

  Leland took in the sight of her spindly legs held up by metal brackets and leather belts. “I’m so happy to see you. I just know you’ll be dancing in no time.”

  “Like the ballerina in my music box,” Emika said.

  Serena stepped forward. “She adores her music box. It helped her in the hospital. She listened to it over and over.”

  “I’m glad to hear that,” Leland said. A piece of the melody lingered on the edge of his memory and his heart filled with a sudden longing that he couldn’t explain. Leland crouched down and opened a sack. “I made these blocks for baby Shun. And this,” he held out a miniature chair with a heart-shaped back, “is for your dolly, so you can have tea parties.”

  Emika grinned, her eyes widening with joy. “Thank you. I love it!”

  “Thank you, Leland,” Serena said. “You’ve brought happiness to our entire family,”

  “My pleasure,” Leland replied. “Merry Christmas.”

  “Merry Christmas to you and may God bless you.” Shunsaku shook Leland’s hand and turned to Keith. “Your friend has the finest of hearts.”

  Keith hesitated, and cleared his throat. “He does. I’m glad I could be here to witness this.”

  They visited for a few more minutes and left the Tanaka’s home with a smile. Leland followed Keith back to the pickup. His friend clapped him on the back. “You really are doing great. It’s good to see you smiling.”

  “Thanks.” Leland nodded. “It’s nice to be living again.”

  “Sophie’s house is about five blocks from here. We just need to stop in and help her put together a bed for her little girl and carry in the dresser that’s been hidden under her carport.” Keith told Leland where to turn, and they arrived about five minutes later in front of a red brick home with colorful bulbs hanging from the eaves.

  Leland’s mind was still with the joyful Christmas celebration taking place at the Tanaka’s, so he wasn’t prepared for the breath to be snatched from h
is lungs when the woman with long dark curls opened the door. She was a vision with porcelain skin and light green eyes that lit up when she saw Keith.

  “Hey, Sophie.” Keith hugged his sister and then turned to Leland. “I brought a friend to help move that furniture. This is Leland.”

  “Leland Halverson. Pleased to meet you.” He’d just repeated the introduction Keith had given him, and Leland felt his cheeks grow warm. He inhaled and fumbled with the keys in his hand as he reached for hers.

  “Nice to meet you.” She shook his hand.

  Leland stared into the depths of her eyes for a second too long, but he felt her returning his studious gaze as they walked into her house.

  “Mom came over earlier and picked up the kids,” Sophie said. “Maggie will be so surprised when she sees her bed.” She looked at Leland. “Maggie is four. She’s been sharing a bed with Garth. He’s six, and he doesn’t want to sleep with a baby and her dolls—in his words.”

  Leland laughed. “Sounds like it will be a great Christmas then.”

  Sophie smiled and Leland noticed the dimple in her cheek. She was tall, only a few inches shorter than Leland’s six-foot frame, and when she walked down the hall, he noticed she moved gracefully, like a dancer.

  “Here it is.” Sophie pointed to a pile of boards.

  “Let’s get started.” Keith crouched down and began arranging the boards.

  Leland noticed the bedroom’s soft pink color and that the room smelled like fresh paint. “It looks like you’ve been busy.”

  “I have. Maggie is such a sweetheart and all girl.”

  A memory of Jessie escaped from the broken spaces in Leland’s heart, and he stopped, recognizing that the memory wasn’t painful. Had his heart finally healed? He noticed Sophie watching him and wondered if she recognized the grief embedded in the lines that creased his forehead—the same marks that trailed from the corners of her eyes. Not crow’s feet, but pathways where tears had followed sorrow.

  He lifted the corners of his mouth. “I can see she’s lucky to have a mother like you.”