by Diane Moody
“Fried chicken.” She suddenly covered her mouth with her hand. “Oh, for goodness sake. I forgot to tell you earlier. You have a letter from Hans.”
“Yeah? It’s about time. I was starting to worry.”
“I know, that’s why I’m so sorry I didn’t mention it earlier. It’s up on your pillow.”
“No problem, Mom. I was in a hurry this afternoon and never thought to go up and check.”
“Do you want me to get it for you?”
“No, I’d rather read it after dinner and a bath. That’ll give me something to look forward to.” He set the shovel in the corner of the covered porch and sat on one of the rockers to take off his boots. He hadn’t heard from Hans in over two months. From the beginning they’d always written at least once a week, though their letters often took three weeks to be delivered—two if they were lucky. Danny assumed the recent long delay was probably a Dutch postal problem and tried not to worry.
Sophie broke his train of thought, standing inside the window behind him, barking in delight, her breath frosting the glass. “Hey girl, I’ll be right in. Did ya’ miss me?” He could swear she smiled at him. “Well, just for the record, I missed you too, Sophie.”
After dinner, Danny dragged himself up the stairs. He pulled his sweater over his head and tossed it on his bed. He was tempted to read Hans’ letter but decided he’d rather take a nice hot bath first. Once he was clean and finally warm again, he picked up the letter and noticed something different. That’s strange. It’s from his address but the handwriting is definitely not his. He sat down on his bed and carefully opened the letter.
Dear Danny,
I have tried to write you many times, but I simply could not find the words. I am so very heartbroken, but I must tell you of the recent death of my brother Hans. It happened back in December on a day of skating. We had such a wonderful day, all of us, skating the canal. Late in the afternoon, as we skated our way home, there was a terrible scream from behind us. Hans immediately skated back and found our young friend Rieky had fallen and hit her head on the ice. Hans tried to calm her down as we all turned back to see what had happened. Just as we approached them we heard a loud crack in the ice. We know whenever that happens we must get off the ice as fast as possible. We all skated away as fast as we could, but Hans stayed with Rieky who was crying hysterically and clinging to him. Suddenly, with a sound I shall never forget, the crack split wide open. We could not see Hans or Rieky! I started to skate back to them, but the others held me back. Some of the older boys tried to reach them, but the ice kept cracking and they had to turn back. We could hear Hans and Rieky crying out for help in that freezing water, but we could not reach them. I yelled and yelled, screaming at Hans not to give up. But soon their cries were silent and we knew the water below had pushed them beyond the gaping split in the ice.
Even now, these many weeks later, I cannot forget the sound of their desperate cries going silent. I cannot erase from my mind the image of my brother and little Rieky dying in that icy water. I will never forgive myself for not breaking through the arms of those who held me back. I could have saved them! I know I could have saved them!
Our home is filled with sorrow. My mother’s broken heart has kept her bedridden. Father tries so hard to be strong, but in the quiet of the night I hear him crying. I do not know how we will go on.
I know how much your friendship meant to Hans. He talked about you constantly, telling us all about his American friend Danny in Chicago, America. He has a cigar box where he kept all your letters. When they continued to come after he died, I knew I must find the courage one day to write you.
More than anything, I live each day with the regret that I never told Hans how much he meant to me. It seemed my quest in life to annoy him as much as I could, but deep down I adored him and loved him more than words can say. Now he shall never know.
I know Hans hoped to someday meet you, and now that shall never happen. I’m so sorry you must now mourn the loss of your friend, as we have mourned these many weeks.
Anya
Danny’s hands trembled as he stared at the page. A drop splashed on the words, causing the ink to run. He hadn’t even realized he was crying. He brushed away the tear, not wanting the words to smear, but at the same time wishing he could blot out the horrible message they told.
He heard himself moan as he set the letter aside. He dropped his head in his hands and gave in to the ache in his chest. “Tell me it’s not true. Please tell me Hans didn’t die . . .” He squeezed his eyes, wiping away his tears when a thought hit him. Maybe it’s just a joke. Hans always talked about how mischievous his little sister was. Could this be some sick retaliation for another of their fights? But almost as soon as the notion drifted through his mind, it disappeared. No one is that cruel. Not even a bratty kid sister.
He knew the despair in Anya’s letter was genuine. He could feel it in his gut. Hans had drowned in the frigid waters beneath the ice he’d always loved to skate on. The friend he’d hoped to one day meet was now gone forever.
Sophie began to whimper quietly, her mournful eyes locked on Danny’s. He drew in a ragged breath and pulled her into his arms. “I don’t understand. How could something so bad happen to someone so good?” Still whimpering, she nuzzled up to his face and began licking the tears from his cheek.
They sat like that for several minutes as Danny tried to make sense of it all. He tried to picture Anya and her parents . . . how they must have suffered with a grief so much worse than what rocked him now half a world away.
He wasn’t sure how long he’d sat there when another thought came to him. He knew what he had to do. He set Sophie aside and got up, making his way over to his desk. He opened the drawer and reached inside to lift out the old cigar box. He slowly opened the lid and placed his hand on the stack of letters. His eyes tracked to the mirror above his desk where he’d tucked the picture of Hans and his family in the frame. The pain in his chest ached again, but he pushed through it, reaching into another drawer for a clean sheet of paper. With his pen poised above the first line, he froze. How could he possibly express what he was feeling in his heart?
Dear Anya,
I have just received your letter and cannot begin to tell you how sorry I am to read of Hans’ death. Even seeing the words on the paper, I find it impossible to believe he’s gone. We never had the chance to meet face to face, but I can honestly say, over the past year and a half we’ve been writing, he’s become my best friend. I don’t even know what to do with that—losing someone so special to me. Even still, it’s nothing compared to the grief you and your parents have shared these past weeks.
But I want you to know how often he wrote of you and how fond he was of his “little Anya.” He loved giving you a hard time, but deep down he was crazy about you. Don’t ever think differently.
I can’t even find the words to say how sorry I am for you and your parents. I promise to keep all of you in my prayers. Maybe someday God will help us make sense of this.
Danny
5
Over the next couple of weeks, Danny lived in a fog. He went to school, continued to work for Mr. Chaney at the grocery store, and shoveled snow when it fell. But he merely went through the motions, his mind and his heart thousands of miles away. His mother seemed to understand. She told him she’d lost a young sister when she was just a girl. She encouraged him to talk about Hans and not hold in his grief, or let her know if she could help. But it was too hard. Too soon. He knew it was crazy, but it seemed like talking about it only made it more painful. In some strange way, it validated the truth that Hans was dead.
At first his father seemed sympathetic, but only for a day or two. Then came the grumbled comments across the dinner table.
“Nothing you can do about it, so stop all this moping around.”
“You never met the kid. Get over it.”
“Enough of this. Grow up and take it like a man.”
Whenever one of these missiles came
his way, Danny just let it roll over him, ignoring the intended barb. For some reason, he felt completely numb, unwilling to muster any kind of response. Always, his mother would later commend him for not taking his father’s bait, but truth be told, he just didn’t care anymore.
Joey called near the end of February before crossing the country to his new home aboard the USS Oklahoma. He seemed anxious to go, but regretted not getting to see his family before he deployed. Danny thought he sounded a little homesick, but couldn’t be sure. He wondered if Joey would have come home if Dad hadn’t kept his grudge all these months. The thought depressed him. He’d give anything to get to spend some time with his brother. Who knew how long it might be before he’d be stateside again?
Gradually, as winter gave way to spring, he began to feel the fog lifting and made an extra effort to pour himself into his school work. He took as many hours at the grocery store as he could. When April finally rolled around, he started looking forward to the Cubs’ new season and another chance at the pennant. Still, never a day passed that he didn’t think of Hans. He always looked for a letter on his pillow when he came home from school, then glanced at the picture on his mirror and tried to be thankful for the friendship they’d shared instead of living with the grief.
Then one sunny afternoon in late April, Danny hurried home from school and took the porch steps two at a time. In less than two minutes, he scratched Sophie behind the ears, threw an old knotted sock down the hall for her to chase, said hi to his mom who was peeling carrots at the kitchen sink, and sliced himself a piece of pound cake for a snack.
“Good heavens, what’s the hurry, Danny?”
“Opening day! Cubs and Cardinals in St. Louis. Don’t wanna miss it!”
As he flew down the hall and up the stairs, he heard his mom yell, “Danny, don’t forget to feed Sophie, and by the way, there’s a—”
He missed whatever else his mother said when he flipped on the radio on his bedside table and tuned it to WLS. Just as he was ready to plop down on his bed, he saw it—an envelope resting on his pillow. His heart nearly stopped until he realized the handwriting was that of Anya, not Hans.
He turned the volume down on his radio, picked up the letter, and studied the postmark as he reached for his letter opener. He noticed she’d sent the letter on April 1—three weeks ago.
Dear Danny,
I thank you for the letter you wrote after hearing our sad news. It was kind of you and we were grateful for your prayers. It’s been hard, but we’re trying to put our lives back together as best we can. Mother has had a very difficult time. She stays in bed most days, and I’m very much afraid she may never be the same. I try to cheer her up, but it doesn’t seem to help.
I hope you don’t mind, but one day I read all of your letters to Hans. I often spend time in his room. It makes me feel close to him. Now I understand why you and my brother were such good friends. You sound so very much like him in many ways. I was wondering if you would like me to send the letters back to you along with your picture?
I don’t know what else to say so I’ll end this.
Anya
For some reason, the idea of Anya reading his letters startled him. A lot. He glanced over at the picture of Hans and his family still stuck in the frame of his mirror. He’d often thought she looked like a real pill, but maybe that was more about the stories Hans had written about her and all the trouble she used to give him. His mind wandered off, picturing his friend’s feisty sister and the mischief that seemed to follow her every step. He remembered the time Hans wrote about her getting kicked out of the Girl Scouts. Danny had been shocked to hear Holland even had Girl Scouts, but apparently the organization had roots in England which had quickly spread throughout Europe. Mrs. Versteeg had insisted her daughter join, much to Anya’s displeasure.
Hans once wrote him that Anya got into a fight one day with a girl named Tilly who happened to be the scoutmaster’s daughter. Tilly fancied herself quite the beauty and loved to tease Anya in front of the other girls for her rough and tumble behavior and unkempt appearance. On that particular day Tilly made up some silly song about Anya’s stubby fingernails and freckles. As all the other girls laughed and laughed, Anya ran headfirst into Tilly’s stomach, tackling her in the dirt outside the windmill where their meetings were held. By the time the two were separated, Tilly had the wind knocked out of her and her uniform was covered with dirt. The scoutmaster immediately ended the meeting and dragged Anya to her home where she told Reverend and Mrs. Versteeg their daughter was no longer welcome in their club. Of course Anya was delighted by the news and didn’t even mind when she was grounded for a month. Far worse, her parents made her apologize to Tilly in front of the entire congregation. Hans had found the whole incident hilarious, though he worried about his little sister. “Will she never learn?” he’d written.
Danny had smiled when he read about the scuffle, envisioning Anya wrestling on the ground with that girl and the humiliation she must have felt having to apologize in front of everyone. Now, as he looked back at the letter he still held in his hand, he decided he was glad she’d written. It made missing Hans a little easier somehow. It still felt odd to know she’d read all his letters, but maybe that was okay too.
Dear Anya,
I’m glad you wrote. I was thinking about your family a lot and wondering how you were doing. I’m sorry your mom is still having a hard time. I can’t imagine what my mom would do if she lost me or my brother.
There’s no need to return the letters. You can keep them or just throw them out, whatever you want to do.
Hans told me you’re just a year younger than he was, but real smart. Do you like school? I can’t wait until I graduate. I want to go to college and all, but sometimes I get tired of studying. He also said you liked to draw. I’m lousy at art stuff.
If you want, you can write me again. I’m kinda used to getting letters from The Netherlands, so I wouldn’t mind. You’re the only girl I ever wrote a letter to, but since you’re Hans’ little sister, it’s okay.
Danny
p.s. I think it’s funny you decked that Tilly girl.
Danny folded the letter, stuck it in an envelope, licked the flap and dug around in his drawer to find a stamp. That’s when he remembered the Cubs game and leaped across his bed to turn up the radio.
”Bottom of the first with the Cubs leading their opening game against the Cardinals, one to nothing. We’ll be right back.”
“Did ya hear that, Sophie? Cubs are ahead! I think this could be the year we go all the way! C’mon, girl, let’s go tell Mom.”
As Danny and Sophie made their way downstairs, he heard his mother’s voice calling from the kitchen. “So you had another letter from Hans’ sister?”
His pace slowed as he felt his face warm. Would his mother still ask lots of questions as she’d always done when Hans wrote? The thought of it sent a prickly, odd wave over him.
He wasn’t at all sure he was ready to be pen pals with . . . a girl.
6
June 1939
With another year of school under his belt, Danny looked forward to the summer ahead. He would soon celebrate his seventeenth birthday, but dreaded his last year of high school. He was itching to go to college, tired of working two jobs, and weary of the strained air filling his home. Sure, he had friends he hung out with, but he missed Joey terribly. Had it really been a whole year since Joey left to join the Navy? Thankfully, his brother sent frequent postcards describing life on a battleship and all the colorful places he’d visited. Once he’d even called when the Oklahoma was in port on Guam, but spent half his time reassuring his worried mother.
“Yes, I’m doing fine. Yes, I’m staying out of trouble, and yes, I’m healthy as an ox, Mom. But please stop fussing about how much this call is costing me! I saved plenty of money to pay for it. I promise you!”
Despite the static-filled connection, Danny could hear the growing confidence and pride in his brother’s voice each time he cal
led. He tried to imagine the smell of the salt water Joey always talked about and the feel of the ocean wind against his skin. He couldn’t help it—he was just plain jealous.
Nevertheless, Danny quickly settled back into his familiar summer routine, mowing lawns and helping out at Mr. Chaney’s grocery store. Sophie often accompanied him on his mowing days, tagging along from house to house, usually finding a spot of shade as she waited on him. She seemed to enjoy all the attention from neighbors who stopped to pet her or offer her a dish of water. Danny couldn’t imagine how he’d ever lived without her companionship. It seemed the feeling was mutual.
Then one Sunday, out of the blue, he and his dad went to a Cubs’ double-header against the Brooklyn Dodgers. Normally Mom didn’t like them doing things on Sunday, but the tickets were a gift from one of his dad’s theater clients, and rather than cause a heated discussion, she relented. “Just this once,” she added, with a touch of warning. This was a first—Dad had never included him on anything this special. He wasn’t sure how much fun it would be, but for a double-header at Wrigley, he’d take his chances.
On June 18, the Windy City felt hotter than usual by the time Danny and his dad switched from the trolley car at 59th and Wentworth to catch the El to Wrigley. When they got off at the Addison exit, even the breeze off Lake Michigan couldn’t keep Danny’s shirt from sticking to his skin. Using his baseball glove to fan himself, they joined the bustling crowd filing into the stadium and found their seats just minutes before the first pitch. The bleacher seats weren’t the greatest, located behind the right outfield, but Danny didn’t care. The Cubs were finally home after a five-game losing streak away, and the faithful fans seemed energized to cheer on their beloved team. Win or lose, Danny loved the games at Wrigley. There, he felt a part of something special, something so much bigger than his own little world.