●●●
Hayden soon got fussy and we called it a day. We drove home and as Liz went back to her well-manicured house, I trudged across the street and through our severely overgrown lawn. Corey hadn’t had time to do any work on the outside of the house, and while I could ignore it when I was inside all day, it was painfully obvious from here on the sidewalk. I climbed the porch steps and jimmied my key for a while before the door gave way. The indefatigable must filled my nose and dust motes danced in the sunbeams. Home sweet home.
I picked up the phone and called my father. Holding my breath, hoping he’d answer instead of my stepmother, I listened to the line ring down in Florida.
“Hello?” It was him.
When he asked how I was, I wanted to tell him how difficult I was finding motherhood. I wanted to tell him how isolated I felt in this new town, away from everything I knew. I wanted to tell him, but I found myself swallowing it all, unsure if I trusted him, unsure of how he would judge my honesty. Unable to face his criticism, or worse, his indifference.
“I’m fine Dad,” I said instead. “How are you?”
“Great, we had a visit from Joseph and Anne a little while back. Joseph and I played a few rounds of golf. It was nice. How’s your new place?”
“It’s coming together,” I lied. “Corey’s aunt left a lot behind, so I’m working to make it our own.”
“And Hayden? Is he sleeping much for you?”
“No…” My voice cracked with the truth. I had to stop talking.
“Molly? You okay?”
I couldn’t hold it in any longer. “I’m not sure, Dad. I’m so tired, and Hayden doesn’t really seem to be very happy. Corey is working a lot. He’s has a business trip next week, and I could really use some help.”
Dad was quiet on the other end.
“Dad?”
“Yes, I’m here, Molly.”
“Could you, maybe, try to come up? You could both come, see the new place, meet Hayden?”
Inside I was screaming, “I need you to come! I need help!” but I simply couldn’t say it. I steeled myself for his inevitable decline of my invitation. Surely, he would have some excuse, some previous commitment. I just knew he wouldn’t come.
“Okay,” he said. “I’ll book a flight and send you my schedule.”
“Really, Dad? Thank you! That’s great! I’m so excited.”
And, for the first time in a while, I was.
CHAPTER TEN
Tish, 1919
It had been hot all day, but an early summer storm loomed in the distance. The clouds began collecting mid-afternoon, dark and rolling in like plumes of ash. Mama and I were in the backyard hanging clothes. The air suddenly cooled. A streak of light shot through the sky followed by a deep grumble of thunder. Wind whipped over the hill, making the pine boughs dip and dance. The ground sizzled and steamed when the first droplets fell. We yanked the clothes off the line and tossed them back into our baskets. By the time we were through the back door, the rain was pelting the roof. A second roar of thunder soon followed the first and clapped so loudly that it shook the house before settling into its low rumble.
Oliver came running to the kitchen where Mama and I stood.
“It’s all right, Ollie,” Mama soothed. “It’s just a storm. Let’s go up to your room where we can see it better and listen.” She put down her wash basket and walked with him upstairs.
The windows throughout the house were open to the day’s early heat, and the curtains flapped hard as cool air rushed in. I moved from room to room, closing the windows to just about an inch so that the rain wouldn’t get in. When done, I stood at the front door and watched the branches of the sycamore trees out front wave through sheets of rain. Lightning flashed and backlit their shape. It was dark for midday, the sun hiding from the storm. I loved a good thunderstorm and listened, jumping a little, at each crack of thunder.
Papa would be closing up shop soon. There hadn’t been enough business, even with the park now in full swing, to warrant Mama and my being there this afternoon. The lack of customers put Papa in a constant foul mood, and today would surely be worse for his having to walk home in the rain.
I continued to watch out the front door for a while. The storm seemed to go on and on, stalled above us. A touring car in the deserted river of our street caught my eye and I was surprised when it putted up to our house and parked outside. Perhaps Papa had asked someone in town for a ride.
Through the rain drops, I could see a man climb out of the backseat, hunched over, carrying a large pack, and draping a large overcoat above his head for cover. The mass moved up onto our porch and was soon standing in the shelter of its roof. The man unfurled himself from the coat and I first noticed his dark curls had been shorn close.
Ellis was home! His face, dripping wet, turned up toward mine.
I threw open the door and ran into the wind. He put down the pack and opened his arms. I tucked myself in. If he was speaking, I couldn’t hear it over the pelting rain and gusting wind. But he was back!
Though it had been nearly two years, I still fit just as I had before, my head tucked just under his chin, like a perfectly snug puzzle piece. Joyful tears streamed down my face and I sucked the wind in like I was suffocating.
I was so happy that my insides were humming, but I could tell his hum was of a lower and more sullen pitch. Ellis pulled away from me and I looked at his face. There was a deep sadness in the wrinkles around his eyes. Regardless, he smiled and leaned in. His lips were gentle on mine at first, but the years apart increased our urging and the kiss turned heady quickly. Though the street now stood empty and nothing was around us but the crashing, flashing, and washing sky, I felt exposed and wanted the privacy of the house.
I led him inside and he took off his wet outer layer. I was not willing to let go of his arm, needing to stay physically connected, and we fumbled through the removal while the thunder continued to drum outside.
“Who’s here?” I heard Oliver call from upstairs, his feet clomping like a horse on his scamper downstairs. “Mama, there is a man here…in his undershirt…” Oliver called up, wary of the wet stranger.
“Hello, there, Oliver. It’s been a long time,” Ellis said laughing, ruffling his hair with the arm I was not clenching.
“This is Ellis, remember?” I said to Oliver.
Mama descended the stairs and when she saw Ellis, her eyes lit up. “Ellis, how wonderful that you are home,” she said, coming to us and squeezing his shoulder.
“Mrs. Hess, it is wonderful. And lovely to see you all.”
“It’s quite a storm out there. Did you walk from the station?” she asked.
“No, I got a lift from a fellow I know over on Dallas Road. We were on the train together and he drove me from the station.”
“Do you have a place to stay in town?” Mama asked. As she spoke, I realized that I hadn’t actually said a word to Ellis yet. There were so many that I wanted to say, but they caught in my throat. I let Mama talk as I looked up at him, both hands around his arm, never wanting to let go again.
“I haven’t secured a place yet,” he said. “I was hoping that I might use your telephone to call the boarding house, or maybe the Red Lion Inn to see if they have rooms.”
“Of course, but visit first. Join us for dinner. Maybe afterward, the storm will let up. I know Mr. Hess would enjoy seeing you as well. Oh, Ellis, we are just so happy to have you home!” She embraced him warmly, then grasped my brother by the shoulders to stop him from the dance he had been doing around Ellis’ feet. She pivoted Oliver, and led him back upstairs. “Let’s go hang Ellis’ shirt to dry,” she chatted to him as they climbed to the second floor. “Papa will be back soon. Do you think he’ll be sopping wet, too, when he gets home?”
Ellis and I were alone again and he kissed me. A small, sweet kiss, with my face in both of his strong hands. His palms were rough, just as I remembered them, and they trembled slightly.
“It sure is good to see
you, Tish.”
“Welcome home,” I said.
We walked into the sitting room and sat on the settee. He told me about his travels home. After trekking across Europe, there was finally a ship to bring him back to the States. From New York, he took the train into 30th Street Station in Philadelphia, and then the train out to Willow Grove. He talked about his buddies from his unit and how it was hard to say goodbye, even though it was what they had been wanting and waiting to do for months. He briefly mentioned a few men who didn’t come home, buried in the fields, but moved on quickly and would say no more about the fighting.
I tried to tell him about the people here, about William and Ivy, and Virginia and Mr. Malcolm, how John Philip Sousa was back at the park, playing as part of his transcontinental tour. I yammered on about the paintings I had been working on, and as I spoke, his eyes darted around the room.
“Where is that painting? The one I sent you?” he asked, jumping up and peering around the corners into the other rooms.
“It’s upstairs in my room.”
“Go get it. I’d like to see it.”
“Ellis, no. Let’s just stay down here and talk to each other.”
“I don’t want to hear anything more about what things are like in Willow Grove. It feels like a different place now. A place that was part of before. Maybe it is me that is different now, I don’t know, but I feel like this place is already part of my past.”
Not understanding, and unsure of this new, franticly pacing Ellis, I said, “And me? Am I also part of your past?”
“No, darling, no,” he said, coming back to where I sat on the couch. “I love you. Let’s go West together. Now. Let’s start a new life, away from this tiny town. I already feel stuck here. I need to move away.”
“I’d love to Ellis. You know I would, but Papa won’t let me go without being married.”
“Then let’s just get married. Let’s just go downtown tomorrow and do it.” He was up again, raking his fingers back and forth across the top of his head. I could no longer hear the thunder outside, but a storm raged on Ellis’ face.
“Calm down, Ellis. You just got home. You haven’t even been here for an hour.”
“I have been thinking about this for months! Doing nothing but sitting around in some ramshackle bombed-out barn with rain puddles for blankets, for months. And darn it all if it isn’t raining here too! I’m ready to go. I can’t stay here any longer. It feels false, part of who I used to be. This place doesn’t belong to me anymore. Let’s get married and go.”
Although I longed to be married to Ellis, and cared little for a big wedding, this delirious proposal was not what I had in mind. Like a thief, he seemed anxious to flee, and I felt like the jewels being hastily shoved into a bag. He was frightening me. I had to get him to slow down.
“Come here, love,” I said, hoping a soothing tone would beckon him back to the settee. “It’s all right. It won’t be raining here all the time. Look, it is already subsiding. And we will get married. I’d like to do this properly, though, not be rushed. Let’s just take some time to plan our journey and our wedding. I understand now how you feel about it here, and I don’t want you to be unhappy, but you just walked in the door, Ellis, and that was a terrible proposal.” I smiled in an attempt to lighten the mood.
It took a beat longer than I hoped, but Ellis smiled back at me. “You are right,” he said. “That was a terrible proposal. When your father comes home, I’ll speak to him about it properly.”
“You are home now. We are together. We’ll be traveling soon. I can’t wait to see it all, and with you.” I continued my soothing tone, pleased that it seemed to be having some effect. “In the meantime, will you take me to see Sousa tomorrow if the weather clears?”
“Yes,” Ellis said, calm for now. “Let’s go see Sousa tomorrow.”
I should have been feeling elated. He was here at my side. I should have been ready to just pack up and go, but there was something different about Ellis. There was a frantic darkness that scared me. He would be fine after a little more time at home, though, surely. As we sat together on the settee, I hoped I was right.
●●●
Papa came home from the shop, hunched and sulking like a scolded dog. Before even taking off his raincoat, Oliver rushed up to him yelling, “Tish’s friend Ellis is here, Papa!”
“What’s that now, son? I can barely understand you. Stop jumping.”
“Ellis is home, Papa,” I said as Ellis and I entered the foyer.
“Well!” Papa said. He shook Ellis’ hand. “Welcome home, Ellis. When did you dock?”
“Early this morning. Took the train down from New York, and then straight here.”
“Well, just look at you! Fit and strong after fighting the Huns. Showed that Kaiser who’s boss, eh?”
“Yes, sir.”
“Come to dinner, everyone,” Mama called from the dining room.
The table boasted a fine meal. Chunks of chicken glistened in a cream sauce with mushrooms. Baked tomatoes split their skins and overflowed with stuffing and herbs. Lemon slices bobbed in the sweating pitcher of lemonade. Papa went to the kitchen and came back with two bottles of homemade beer. They hissed and bubbled up as he opened them.
“To welcome home our brave soldier,” he said, handing one to Ellis. After tapping the bottles together, both men took a long drink, ending with a grin.
As we ate, Ellis shared stories from over there, one involving a Frenchman whom they had paid to rent his barn. At some point there was a miscommunication about a chicken which ended comically with the Frenchman nearly kicking them out.
“That man, he sure loved his chickens,” Ellis chuckled, and we all laughed too. I watched him and saw his face fall immediately after his laugh ended, as if the entire cheerful story had been affected. Though he heartily complimented Mama on her cooking, he mostly pushed his food around on his plate and gulped his beer as if he were walking the desert. He was a changed man, almost a stranger it seemed, stuck inside the body of the man I loved.
We sat at the table awhile after finishing dinner, until Oliver said, “Mama, may I get up? My foot is twinkling.”
“Twinkling?” Mama asked.
“Yes, like a prickly star.”
Suddenly understanding, we all smiled. I looked over at Ellis and he was staring off into the distance.
“Perhaps you should be seated correctly on your bottom, rather than on your foot, and it wouldn’t fall asleep,” Mama said. “Stand up. Walk around a bit. It will stop feeling that way.”
Papa stood too, indicating that he was headed for his cigar box on the porch. With a look at me, Ellis followed him, asking, “Sir, may I join you? I’d like to discuss something.”
I stacked the plates and carried them into the kitchen. Oliver was stomping around the house trying to wake up his foot, and Mama was at the sink.
“Do you think he is different, Mama?” I asked.
“Perhaps. War is a difficult thing to manage.”
“He acts happy, but he doesn’t actually seem happy. He seems anxious and restless. He wants to get married right away and head West.”
“Hmm, I was wondering what the discussions were about on the front porch. Now I understand. I know that is what you want—have wanted, Tish—but don’t rush into anything. He needs some time to adjust to being back in the country. He’ll be just fine soon, back to his normal self. You’ll see.”
I nodded and went back to the dining room to collect the remainder of the dishes. As I shuttled between the rooms, stacking the bowls and plates next to the sink, my uneasiness grew along with the pile. We were nearly done washing up when we heard the front door close and the men’s voices back inside.
“Go, dear,” Mama said. “I’ll finish the rest.”
I put down my dish rag and went to find Ellis. On my way past Papa in the library, he patted my shoulder and smiled at me but said nothing and continued into the kitchen. I found Ellis in the sitting room. He was using the
telephone. I sat down and waited, watching him and searching for something about him I recognized.
“Well,” he said, replacing the earpiece, “Neither the Red Lion Inn nor the boarding house have any rooms tonight. I guess I should have called earlier. That Sousa really draws a crowd,” Ellis said.
Mama and Papa had joined us, hearing the tail end of this.
“Perhaps I’ll call over to the McGuires on Krewson Terrace, or my friend on Dallas, to see if they will put me up for the night.”
“Nonsense, Ellis. I’ll make up a bed for you here,” Mama said, getting a sharp look from Papa. She put her hand on his forearm and fixed a look at him. He acquiesced quickly under her touch and did not protest. “It’s getting late anyway. Tish, fetch some blankets and we’ll make up the davenport. Oliver! Time for bed, my sweet.”
There was a groan and the scampering of feet as Oliver tried to outrun bedtime. The door separating the dining room and the library squeaked and I knew where he had taken up a hiding spot. I went to the dining room and flung the door shut, exposing the space behind it, filled with my crouching, giggling little brother.
“Come on, Oliver. Let’s go upstairs. If you get dressed quickly, I’m sure Mama will let you come downstairs to say goodnight to Ellis,” I said.
“He’s staying?” Oliver’s eyes were as wide as the full moon. He followed me, then pushed past me to win an undeclared race and change into his night clothes. I collected sheets and an extra pillow from the closet for Ellis. The house usually cooled at night, and the storm had washed away most of the day’s heat, so I grabbed a light blanket as well.
With Ellis on the couch, the rest of us retired upstairs and I continued up the winding circular stairway to my room. As I undressed, I could see the lights from town hazy and spread by the rain. My thoughts were just as hazy.
He was home, and back after so long. I wanted things to be the same as they were before the war, but they couldn’t possibly be. I worried about our relationship; were we too different now? I knew I still loved him. One look at his face and I knew it. But he was so changed. How could things between us truly ever be the same?
An Imperfection in the Kitchen Floor Page 16