“What was the girl’s name?” Bobby’s mother asked, her eyes pleading.
Lou thought for a moment. “It was Elsie. Write to Hull Infirmary. They’ll help you. You can contact me at the Royal Airship Works in Cardington if you need to.”
The couple was thankful for the information. Bobby’s father wrote down their address and gave it to Lou.
“I must go. My folks are waiting.” Lou left them knowing he’d given them something precious—something from Bobby. Their eyes shone with hope.
Lou broke away from the crowd, finally reaching Tom and Anna. Tom, now 26, was a couple of inches shorter than Lou, with the same broad shoulders and muscular arms, obviously put to good use. Tom’s hair was already starting to recede like their Dad’s. His bone structure was also similar, chiseled, and his eyes as intense. He was a man, not the boy Lou had last seen. Anna was a couple of years younger than Tom, with long, light brown hair, most of it hidden under a floppy, yellow sun hat. She wore a long, white, cotton skirt and a pale blue blouse. Her eyes were ice blue and wider apart, similar to Lou’s—a younger version of their beautiful mother.
Anna put her arms out and Lou embraced her, feeling her tears on his face. He turned to Tom and hugged him, too, though he sensed Tom was distant. Tom led the way out of the station. Lou put his arm around Anna and they followed. They walked toward a crowd of Army veterans, who watched them with doleful eyes. They stopped and Lou gave them all the money he had in his pockets and in his wallet. Tom appeared sullen and unimpressed.
They had an old pickup truck parked outside the station.
“Thanks for meeting me. You got my wires okay?” Lou asked.
“No, we didn’t get any wires,” Tom answered.
“How did you know I’d be here, then?”
“We read it in the paper—you’re famous. They said you were on the airship,” Anna said with a giggle.
Tom went to the pickup and pulled back the ragged canvas cover.
“This is Granddad’s old Buick from the farm!” Lou exclaimed.
“Yep. A bit rusty, but still rollin’,” Tom said curtly.
He threw Lou’s kitbag in the truck-bed beside the shovels and picks and covered it with the canvas. It was sunny, not yet too hot. They climbed in the cab, with Lou in the middle, and Tom drove out of Union. Along the sidewalk, a crowd of several hundred waited beside a line of empty tables.
“What are they waiting for?” Lou asked.
“Food! That’s a soup line. They’re waiting for it to arrive,” Tom replied. Lou detected sarcasm. He looked around, speechless.
Goddammit! What the hell’s happened to my country?
Tom drove along Louisiana Avenue and on to Constitution, heading west toward Virginia, about three miles off. There were groups of men everywhere with placards and mounted police watching from a distance. On the surface, everything appeared peaceful. Lou studied their hopeless faces.
“Looks like everything’s gone to hell in this town.”
“These men are coming from all over, many of them with wives and kids,” Tom answered with resignation, as if Lou had something to do with it.
“I feel so sorry for them,” Anna said.
“I saw them on the railroad tracks,” Lou said.
“It’s a bad situation. They should give ’em the damned money,” Tom snarled. They drove in silence for some minutes, until Lou spoke.
“How are Mum and Dad?”
Silence.
“Well?” Lou asked.
“They’re okay, but you’ll notice a change—especially in Dad—but don’t worry, they’re fine. They’ve both gotten older, that’s all,” Anna said. She sounded weary.
“We all have, I reckon. I’m ashamed to say it’s been ten years,” Lou said.
Tom smirked, but remained silent, keeping his eyes on the road. Lou was disappointed at Tom’s off-handedness. He hadn’t expected it—but perhaps he should’ve. It was only natural. Big brother back on the scene. It might take a few days.
Anna studied Lou, trying to ease the tension. “You look wonderful, Lou,” she said. “If you weren’t my brother, I’d take a fancy to you myself.”
They drove past the Smithsonian Museum of Art and along the tree-lined mall. Lou thought back to when his Mom and Dad used to bring him here to see the paintings.
“We’ve all missed you,” Anna said, her eyes resting on him again, but seriously now. “Aren’t you coming home soon … for good? You really should, you know. God, we so much want you home, big brother.”
Tom showed no reaction.
“Well I’m …” Lou began, but Anna knew what was on his mind.
“I’m sure you and Dad will get along. He’s pretty mellow nowadays. He’s a big softie. Bring Charlotte. We’d love to meet her. She looked so beautiful in the wedding photo.”
Lou looked down. It was gut-wrenching to hear. “I’d love to bring her over to meet you all. I miss you, too,” he said. He looked across the open lawn toward the White House in the distance. “And she’d love to come.”
“Then bring her!” said Anna.
“I’m dying to see Mum and Dad, and of course, Gran. Tell me about them.”
“They’ve been getting ready for your homecoming since 5 o’clock this mornin’,” Tom grunted. He turned off the main road and onto the George Washington Parkway, the scenic country road along the Potomac River toward Virginia.
“Where you goin’? We live that way,” Lou said, pointing back at the main road.
“Actually, we don’t—not anymore,” Tom said. He seemed to be enjoying this.
“What d’you mean. Did you move?”
“Yeah, had to,” Anna said.
“Why?”
“They took the house,” she said.
“What do you mean they took the house? Who took the house?”
“The bank,” Tom said.
This was like a jab in the guts.
“They also took the car,” Anna said.
“Dad’s Ford?”
“Bank took everything. Everything they could get their hands on,” Tom said, his eyes narrowing.
Shattered, Lou put his hand up to his forehead, unable to breathe.
“Lou, it could be worse. Dad lost his job, but—”
“That was ages ago!” Tom sneered.
“Dad lost his job! Things could be worse! How could they be worse?”
They motored along the high, winding road overlooking the glistening river. It was beautiful, but Lou hardly noticed.
“Dad had been with that firm for what ...twenty years?” Lou said.
“Twenty-three, actually. But they shut down. Like thousands of other companies,” Tom said bitterly.
“So, where are you now?”
“We’re all back at Gran’s place, like the old days. Gran doesn’t owe anyone a dime. They can’t touch her,” Anna said.
“Why wasn’t I told about any of this?”
“They didn’t want you to worry, dear brother,” Tom replied.
“So, what do you all do for money?”
“We do jobs. Dad and I work at Arlington Cemetery sometimes, or he did ‘til recently. Jeb helps me nowadays,” Tom answered.
“Doing what?”
“Digging graves, doing landscaping and stuff,” Tom replied.
“My God!”
“Lou, we’re lucky. Millions are out of work. Millions are starving,” Anna said.
“You just saw the soup lines, didn’t you,” Tom said.
“We grow stuff. We’ve got rabbit, deer, squirrel, bear, possum, ground hog. We’ll never go hungry!” Anna said.
“We opened a couple of fields Gran had left fallow. We’re growing tobacco for Gran, like always, and old Jeb and I are growing a stack of potatoes and carrots and peas and beans—you name it. And grain o’course. We sell some and we give a lot away. Jeb takes a load to his people in D.C. every week,” Tom said.
“Plus we trade in a little of the old ‘you know what.’ We like to keep t
he Army and the Navy and Congress happy,” Anna said with a wink.
Lou smiled.
“Which brings us to another sore subject. More trouble,” said Tom.
“What kind of trouble?”
“The Klan,” Tom said.
Lou stared out the window at the forest. This was like walking into a hailstorm. “What the hell are those idiots up to?”
“They’re enforcing Prohibition,” Tom answered.
“How?”
“They’re running around in bed sheets burning down bars and destroying stills all over the place,” Anna said.
“And lynching blacks, I suppose,” Lou said.
God, he wished he were here to help deal with this crap. They traveled up the Georgetown Pike. As the day got hotter, the cicadas in the trees got louder.
What a racket!
It was a screaming whine. He’d forgotten that sound.
“When you left, Gran let old Jeb build a shack down by the creek. The family’s always taken care of Jeb and he does a lot for us. After Granddad went, he tended the still. He’s a good man—and his whisky’s every bit as good as ol’ Granddad’s,” Anna said.
“His wife’s okay, too. They ain’t no trouble,” Tom said.
“They have two beautiful children. A boy and a girl,” Anna said.
“So, tell me what’s been happening?”
“The boys in white have been around, looking for the still. It’s been drivin’ ’em crazy,” Tom said.
“But they didn’t find it?”
“Not yet. But I’m sure they will. They’re determined,” Tom replied.
“They’ve been threatening Jeb. He’s terrified,” Anna said.
“Poor old Jeb. I love that man,” Lou said.
It was Jeb who’d taught him to fish on the river in the skiff and to beware of the current rushing to the falls. He’d taught him to shoot and skin a rabbit, expertly wring a chicken’s neck with minimum suffering to the creature, plant beans, and set up and run the still, which Grandfather—known locally as ‘the man from Moray’—had passed on to Father and Jeb.
“Their threats are gettin’ worse,” Anna said.
“They’d better not lay a finger on him,” Lou said.
“What are you gonna do? You can’t mess with the Klan,” Tom sneered.
“Do you know who these men are?”
Tom hesitated.
“Tom!”
“I’ve got a good idea,” Tom said, waving his hand dismissively.
“Good. Then you’ll tell me and I’ll pay them a visit.”
“What! Don’t get crazy,” Tom said.
“Tom, only cowards hide under bed sheets.”
They pressed on along the pike, up winding hills and down through valleys between wooded banks toward Great Falls.
“Charlotte would love it here. It’s so much like England,” Lou said. “I’d forgotten.”
“I reckon you did,” Tom said.
Soon, they came to an opening in the trees on the right marked by two massive boulders. His grandfather had placed them to mark the entrance to the farm, meaning to build two fine stone pillars one day, but there’d always been too many other more important things to do. Lou wondered again how his grandfather got those boulders there in the first place. Now he’d never know. Someone had put up a sign.
REMINGTON’S FARM
“That’s new,” Lou said. “I like it.”
67
REMINGTON’S FARM
Saturday & Sunday August 2 & 3, 1930.
They followed the winding trail through the forest for three quarters of a mile. These familiar surroundings Lou found magically calming. Although the property belonged to his grandparents, he’d lived here for many years. When Lou was twelve, his father had saved enough to put down a deposit on a home in Fairfax, and he and his siblings had been sorry to leave this place.
Presently, the Virginia, black stone farmhouse came into view among the towering oaks. Lou’s grandfather had built this house in the 1870’s after leaving Moray, Scotland fifteen years earlier, at age twenty-five. The roof was clad in gunmetal grey, standing seam metal, complete with snow-guards. The second story was sheathed in white clapboard. Operable green shutters set off the small-paned, double-hung sash windows. It was a Virginia classic.
As the pickup rolled around the dirt driveway, chickens kicked up a fuss and dogs barked. The arrivals got out of the pickup and the dogs, a gold Labrador and a black mutt, came with their tails wagging to welcome Lou. He patted them.
“The Lab’s ‘Tobacca’ and the black one’s ‘Moonshine’—she’s a sweetie,” Anna said. The screen door flew open and banged shut, and Lou’s mother, Violet, rushed out. It opened again, more slowly and was closed carefully by his father. Following him came Gran in her long, white kitchen apron. Then Jeb emerged from the path leading up from the river—tall and stooping, his hair and mustache turning grey.
They gathered around Lou, his mother and grandmother smothering him with kisses. His father stepped forward and hugged him, after hanging back awkwardly. They both became embarrassed. Lou turned to Jeb and shook his hand and embraced him. True, they’d all gotten older, especially Father. His shoulders were rounded and his thinning, grey hair had receded more and gone white over the ears. His deep blue eyes, under white, straggly eyebrows, were as piercing as ever, though sunken. His sallow face was gaunt, cheeks hollow. Lou was shocked. His dad had the air of a beaten man. His mother was still a pretty woman with the same wonderful smile, big, bright eyes and soft, brown hair.
They stepped inside and Lou immediately caught that familiar smell of furniture polish, tobacco and wood smoke from the bluestone fireplace, lingering from previous winters. He glanced around the room, appreciating the dark wood paneling and oak flooring, like a shadowy cave—cosy in winter, oppressive in summer. His eyes fell on a shotgun propped in the corner by the door. It jarred him for a moment. Above all else, this place was home—more home to Lou than the Fairfax house had ever been.
On one wall were a few yellowing pictures in frames: General Lee and Stonewall Jackson and a photo of Gran and Granddad taken in the 1880s. Beside them, photos of Lou: one in Marine dress uniform taken just before being shipped off to France, and the other, full of promise in his Navy uniform before leaving for England as an airshipman.
Gran scurried off to the kitchen to bring refreshments. Everyone sat down in the living room in the old, but comfortable, easy chairs. It was hard at first. Where to start? Father sat packing tobacco onto a cigarette paper. He licked the edge and rolled it.
“Tell us about the journey here, son. They say you flew the airship,” Mother said.
“It was okay, Mom. Nothing spectacular really. Pretty boring most of the time.”
“To read the newspapers and hear your mom tell it, you’d think he’d flown the damned thing to Canada all by himself,” Lou’s father said, flicking a brass lighter under his cigarette. It flamed, filling the room with smoke. He began to cough—a nasty, hacking cough. Gran came out from the kitchen with lemonade and iced tea. Everyone helped themselves except Father. Gran brought him coffee.
“We had plenty of experienced officers on board. I was just one of them.”
“No, you were an officer aboard His Majesty’s Airship Howden R100 based at the British Government’s Royal Airship Works in Cardington and Special Adviser to the Director of Airship Development, as well as being the Official American Observer. It says it all right here in the paper,” Anna said, holding up the Washington Post.
“Sis—”
“Don’t play it down, Lou. We’re all very proud of you,” Anna said. “Even Dad!”
Father remained impassive. He took a gulp of coffee and put his cup back in the saucer on the table beside him. Tom sat in an upright chair against the wall, arms folded across his chest, lips pursed, staring out the window.
“I don’t know why you couldn’t have settled down here and married a nice, American girl, one of your own kind, instea
d of going off and marrying some hoity-toity British dame,” Father said. He stopped to cough and clear his throat. His voice was weak and hoarse.“Julia sat around here waiting for you to come home in that silly damned airship. She would’ve been perfect. You broke that poor girl’s heart, that’s what you did. Jilted! That’s what she was. She was devoted to you. And still is! She comes round here to see your mother every week and Mother treats her like a daughter. She’ll die an old maid!”
Everyone sat silent. Lou felt bushwacked. That was Father. Nothing had changed and Tom was turning out just like him. The old animosity was alive and well. This was not exactly The Return of the Prodigal Son.
Mother dabbed her eyes with a handkerchief. “Cliff, you can’t say that,” she said. “He’s got to lead his own life. Maybe it’s lucky he’s over there. At least he’s working.”
“I had every intention of coming back. After the crash, everything changed.”
“Yeah, he got the hots for his nurse,” Father sneered, glaring at Mother.
“It’s true, Dad, I did fall for a wonderful girl, but that wasn’t the only reason.”
“They always fall for the nurse,” Father said.
“What else was it, son?” Mother asked.
“I don’t want to talk about it right now, Mom.”
“He doesn’t want to talk about it right now, Mom,” Father scoffed in a whiny voice. He began to cough again and pinched out his cigarette in the dirty ashtray.
“Josh came to see us, you know,” Mother said.
“He said he would.”
“He was such a nice young man,” Gran said. “Anna and Tom brought him to see me.”
“He thought the world of you, Lou,” Mother said.
“Anna was very taken with him. He was so good looking,” Gran said.
Anna had become wistful and was tearing up. “He was a lovely guy,” she whispered.
“It was a tragedy,” Mother said.
“It was inevitable! That’s what it was! Riding around in the air in a balloon filled with gas—you’re asking for it. It defies logic. Common sense’ll tell you that sooner or later you’re gonna be blown to smithereens. It’s the law of physics. Any damned fool could figure that out,” Father said coldly.
The Airshipmen: A Novel Based on a True Story. A Tale of Love, Betrayal & Political Intrigue. Page 52