Debbie put the comb away and sat down in a chair. She pulled Harold’s wheelchair around to face her. “Harold, what else do you know about Sam? Did you have more than one soldier named Sam serving in your unit?”
“Only one Sam in my unit. But there were heaps more in the division, of course.”
“The man I’m thinking about, his name was Samuel Truett. I’m sure you’ve never heard of him.”
A smile spread across the elderly man’s face. “Sure I have. That’s his name. Sam Truett.”
Shock waves rippled through her. She steadied herself. Maybe he was only repeating what she had said. “Did Sam Truett and you go to war, Harold? Was he your friend?”
“Sure. He was my best friend. And he. . .” Harold paused. “Someone get up to the beachhead! Someone’s gotta do it. And I can’t. I can’t face it anymore.”
He had lapsed back into his battle state. Somehow the questions had triggered a memory too painful to consider. Harold was again mumbling battle scenarios of Normandy. Yet, the confession coming out of his mouth couldn’t help but intrigue Debbie. She didn’t know if he was confessing the truth or not, but with this information, Neil might be able to find out on the Internet if the men did, indeed, serve together in the same unit.
Debbie could hardly keep her mind on her work after that. It didn’t even bother her that nurses were whispering behind her back, that Trish was dishing out strange looks all day, or even that Mrs. Whitaker looked at her in an odd sort of way during the course of the shift. She could only think of Neil arriving tonight and the news she couldn’t wait to share.
On her coffee break, Debbie couldn’t wait any longer. Neil had to know what she might have stumbled upon. She sneaked off to a phone booth, placed a call to his cell, and left a message on voice mail, ending with, “I’ll wait around for you to come in. I’ll be in the cafeteria at four, and I can fill you in on the details then.”
All day she waited for his call and his voice exclaiming her news that Harold may have very well known Samuel Truett. The phone stayed strangely silent. She tried not to read anything into it. Certainly the news should have sent him racing to return the call. Maybe he was on a case overload at the insurance company. Or his cell phone wasn’t charged up. Or he never checked messages until the end of the day. For whatever reason, the day shift ended with no word from him.
Finally someone notified her she had an outside call. Debbie nearly tripped over a linen cart to answer it at the nurses’ station.
“Hey there,” Neil said cheerfully. “I got your message. What’s up?”
She opened her mouth, ready to spill out everything she had learned concerning Harold. But first, she had to find out something important. “Did your grandma ever have a nickname?”
He laughed. “You mean, you called to ask me that? C’mon, Debbie. Why did you really call?”
“No, I’m serious. Did she?”
“Okay, I’ll play along just so long as you’re the prize. Grandpa Joe used to call her Liv. Of course we wondered why he would call Gram a name like that. I mean, people ‘live,’ don’t they? Why did he have to call her Liv unless he was glad she was living.” He laughed at his wit.
Debbie could barely catch her breath she was so excited. Harold was telling the truth. He would not know such information unless Samuel Truett once shared it with him. They were all related. It was too unbelievable to be real.
“Do you have a nickname?” he went on, oblivious to the seriousness of this.
She wanted to keep the conversation on topic but decided to wait and reveal her reason for the question when he arrived at White Pines. “Sure. You can call me Sneaky.”
“Sneaky. I like that. Why are you sneaking around?”
“Come to White Pines as soon as you can, and I’ll tell you.”
“Wow, now that’s an offer I can’t refuse. Be there quick as a flash.”
She replaced the receiver, only to find several of the staff giving her inquisitive looks. Didn’t anyone believe in privacy anymore? Well, it didn’t matter. She knew now she had stumbled upon something extraordinary. A miracle. And she couldn’t wait to see the look on Neil’s face when all was revealed. It would be priceless. If only she had a camera to record all this for posterity’s sake. For his children. Maybe their children. She tried to steady her breathing and began to pace. She would go see Elvina, but she feared her anxiety would be detected. She would wait for Neil instead.
She checked her watch. He didn’t say where he was. For all she knew, he was still hiking it down from Roanoke, and she had another forty minutes to wait with the rush hour traffic. Maybe she should just sit in the lounge and read one of the many magazines.
“You seem awfully anxious,” the unit secretary noted.
Debbie gave a small smile, realizing she was attracting attention, and strode off to the elevator. She pushed the button. She would wait for him in the lobby. And then she would take him right to where he needed to go.
The doors parted, and suddenly he was there, black over-coat and all, coming toward her. The next moment, she was on the floor, having tripped over her own feet. He looked as startled as she was. “Wow, what a greeting.” Neil offered her his hand.
Debbie winced as the old back wound flared up once again.
“Not your back,” he groaned.
“Same place.”
“I’m sorry.” He shook his head, but his eyes told a different story, one of tenderness, compassion, and—dare she think—love? He gently massaged her upper back in a circular motion. “Let’s get some ice on it right away.”
“I haven’t got time, Neil. This can’t wait. I’m dying as it is.”
His concern was quickly replaced with confusion. “Huh?”
“There’s someplace I have to take you.”
“Can’t I first say hello to my favorite lady? I promised her I’d be here, and I’m already a little late.” He walked off toward Elvina’s room, leaving Debbie standing in the hallway. She tried to maintain her composure, but inwardly she felt like a Mexican jumping bean. She began to pace again, even as her back still smarted from the contact with the floor.
“Gram, I think there’s something important Debbie needs to tell me,” she heard Neil say. “I’ll be right back.”
Debbie had all she could do to keep from dragging him down the hall. “Neil, I’ve discovered something really big.”
“So have I,” he said, pulling her to a stop. His finger traced her cheek and then her lips.
“No, please be serious. This is about your grandfather. Your other grandfather.”
His finger dropped. The tender expression melted away. “I told you I’ve given up on all that. It’s time to move on. ‘Let it go,’ as everyone’s been saying.”
Debbie took him by the hand. “No, you can’t let this go, believe me. I want you to meet someone.”
“I’m not really in the mood for other visitations right now, except with you and Gram.”
“You will be, don’t worry.” As they walked, the words rushed out. “Remember me telling you about Harold? The World War II vet who fought at the battle of Normandy? Well, he was talking about his best friend in the army. And guess what his name was? Sam! You know, Sam. . .short for Samuel.”
“So what? There are plenty of Sams in this world, Debbie.”
“I’m telling you, there’s a connection.” She could see the look of confusion distorting his face as he followed her into the room.
“Hi, Harold,” Debbie greeted. “I brought a friend of mine. He’s a soldier at heart.”
Harold gripped Neil’s hand and shook it heartily. “Glad to meet you. We need some strong, young men to join our forces. We have so little. Omaha took everyone away.”
Neil cast a sheepish look in Debbie’s direction, uncertain how to respond.
> “Yes, and guess what, Harold?” Debbie interjected. “Neil here says he knows Sam, too.”
“Really? Wasn’t he a great man?”
“I—I know a Samuel Truett,” Neil began.
“Sure, Sam Truett. From Wheeling, West Virginia. Were you also in the same unit?”
Neil stared in disbelief. Debbie nudged him. “I, uh, I heard he had a son.”
“Sure did. He loved that little boy. Little Albert. He was sure sad to have to leave him.” Harold straightened up in his chair. “You know, I saw that little fella before we left. It was raining real hard. Good weather for ducks. I saw them together that day, when they said good-bye.”
Neil grabbed for the man’s hand, his eyes large. “You saw my dad? And my grandfather? I don’t believe it. This is unbelievable. What did they look like? What did they say?”
Harold shrank down in his wheelchair. His bloodshot eyes filled with fear and confusion. “I—I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
Uh-oh, Debbie thought. “Harold, what Neil meant to say is that he knows Sam and Al, also. They were close, too, like family relations, you see.”
Harold relaxed when he heard this. “Sam was like a brother to me. He was a tall man. Bushy dark brown hair, almost looked black, though they made him cut it short. And his boy looked exactly like him.”
Debbie glanced at Neil’s hair. Wavy hair. Dark brown, nearly black. Excitement bubbled up within her. She wondered if Neil was feeling the same thing, but by the look on his face, he appeared far from it. In fact, he looked ghostly white, as if in a state of shock.
Harold continued chattering about the army and then the battle of Normandy. All at once, Neil whirled and stumbled out of the room.
“Neil?” She hurried out after him. “What’s wrong?”
He glared at her. “How could you put me through that? That man doesn’t know my grandfather or my dad. He doesn’t even know what year it is. He still thinks he’s at Normandy.”
“Neil, you’re wrong. He knows more than you think. You need to go back and talk to him some more.”
“He isn’t right in the head, Debbie. I think it’s cruel to have planted these things in his mind, only to have him spit them back at me. What do you think this is? A game?”
Debbie stared, horrified. “I never planted anything in his mind. What he’s saying is genuine. Besides, I can prove it. He was telling me all about Sam’s girl whom he called Liv. The girl he left behind. You were the one who told me your grandmother’s nickname was Liv. Harold couldn’t have known that fact unless he heard your grandfather, Samuel Truett, say it.”
Neil stared into Harold’s room where they could hear the man listing off the supplies left after the initial engagement. “This is too unbelievable to be real.”
“I know. It’s a miracle happening right in this very place. Here is a living link to your grandfather and your past. Please, Neil, go back and talk to Harold. If you don’t, you’ll regret it the rest of your life.”
He considered it for a moment. Slowly he made his way back into the room. Harold had just finished checking the list of first aid supplies on hand and detailing how the medic had been killed. He stopped when he saw Neil. “You’re supposed to be on guard duty, young man. What did you say your name was?”
“Neil. Neil Jenson.”
“Good-sounding name. I’m Harold White.”
“Yes, and you know Sam Truett. Is he. . .is he here? I, uh, I need to talk to him.”
The man’s lips began to quiver. Tears filled his eyes. “You didn’t hear the news then.”
“We, uh, we never got a statement from the war department, if that’s what you mean.”
“Fools. They should have told you. You should know. He died right next to me. Right there on the beach. Took a slug in the belly. And he said. . .” He stopped. “Uh-oh. Keep to your feet, men.”
Debbie could see the pain of the past driving Harold back into a state of war. She came to his side. “Please, Harold, please tell us what happened to Sam. It will help Neil accept what happened if you tell us. He never got the telegram. Neither did Liv. They need to know.”
“Liv doesn’t know either? Sam talked about her with his dying breath. Told me to tell her that he loved her.”
“She wants to see him. It’s her Christmas wish.”
Harold’s head dropped to his chest.
Debbie heard a noise she hadn’t anticipated. Weeping.
“Sh–she won’t see him no more. He’s gone. And she—she will have to take care of Sam’s little boy. I’m sorry, Sam. I know I promised you, and I’m sorry.” He lifted his face, damp with tears, and looked at Neil. “I’m sorry, young man. I told Sam I would take care of Liv and the boy. On his dying breath, I promised. But I didn’t. I didn’t do what I said I would do. When the war was over, I came home and did nothing. I didn’t even check to see how Albert was doing.” Great heaves shook his frail form. “I’m sorry, Sam.”
Neil ventured forward and took the feeble man in his arms. Unresolved grief filled them both. Debbie looked on, the tears bubbling in her own eyes, as Neil embraced the closest link to both the grandfather and the father he never knew.
Twelve
“If that wasn’t a bomb falling out of the skies, I don’t know what is.”
Debbie couldn’t help but agree with Neil’s assessment of the encounter with Harold White. They decided on a drive to look at Christmas lights for a change of pace but were really using the occasion to mull everything over. Though shocking, she recognized the news provided answers Neil desperately needed. And she was glad for it. Neil had a living testimony of one who witnessed his roots.
“I’m amazed that Harold actually knew him,” Neil went on. “That they were best friends, of all things. That he saw my grandfather die there on the beach. What do you wager the odds are of such an occurrence?”
“A million to one at least. Which is why this has to be God’s doing.”
He began tapping on the steering wheel. “I can see why God tells us not to worry about tomorrow, that it will take care of itself. He orchestrates the future. I could never have brought all this together. Think of all the minute details that had to come forth to make this reunion work. For instance, if you hadn’t taken that tumble in the road, none of this would’ve happened.”
Debbie chuckled, even as her hand went to her battered tailbone. “I guess this is one time I can say a bruise on the backside was worth it.”
Suddenly she saw one of his large hands sneak over and take hold of hers, then he gave a gentle squeeze.
“And I’m happy, too, that you decided not to move away. I would’ve never discovered the truth. You’ve made such a difference in my life, Debbie. I can’t begin to say.”
“Please don’t put me on a pedestal. Remember, Mrs. Whitaker thought I was the worst thing to come storming onto the floor.”
“She didn’t know what a good nurse she had. And that’s what I told her, plain and simple. That she should be proud to have you there, caring about the residents more than all of her staff combined. That you gave your life to them every day. And she owed you big-time.”
“Boy, I’ll bet that went over like a lead balloon. Neil’s good-hearted tact.” She giggled.
He laughed in response. “Hey, she listened. And she stopped sending you off to other floors. I know Gram is very glad to have you back.” He gave her hand another gentle squeeze. “So am I. I was miserable when we were apart. I couldn’t sleep or eat.” He paused.
The symptoms sounded familiar to her. No appetite. Loss of sleep. Could it be the symptoms of that sickness called love? She sucked in her breath, at a loss for words.
“And now I need you more than ever.”
She looked at his hand, still curled around hers, and wondered what he meant. As a companion? His on
e and only? She sucked in her breath, suddenly nervous. Were all her fantastic dreams about to come to pass? If so, was she ready to handle them?
“Somehow we’re going to have to break the news to Gram about Harold and this Sam Truett fellow. Well, I guess he isn’t just some fellow down the street. He was my grandfather. But she needs to know the truth. It’s been her wish to find out what happened to him. I know it will hardly be a great Christmas gift, but maybe she can find some peace, after all is said and done.”
Debbie blew out a sigh. He hadn’t said what she thought he would say, but then again, maybe it was for the better. She didn’t think she was yet ready for dreams to come true anyway. “So how do you plan on springing the news?”
“I’m not sure. I was hoping you’d be able to give me some ideas. If I just came out and said it, she might not believe me. Then we’d be in real trouble.”
Debbie had little time for contemplation as they slowed to a stop behind a row of cars lined up along the road. Up ahead, she saw colored lights and oversized glimmering snowflakes hovering in midair. She lowered the window and strained to see. “Neil, you won’t believe this, but there’s a house down the road here that has every kind of light display imaginable.”
“Must be something big. The traffic has come to a dead halt.”
They inched their way forward until they came to a large sign welcoming all visitors, and an arrow pointed to where cars could park in a farmer’s field. Debbie nodded to Neil’s inquiry as to whether or not they should investigate. He turned into the field and parked. “This is great,” she squealed. “You’ll get to share in a family tradition. The house is decorated up like the one I described to you when I was a kid.”
“I’ll gladly look at any tradition that has to do with you. Let’s go see what this is all about.”
Debbie stared in amazement at the displays—at least six different lighted Nativity scenes, snowflakes positioned high up in the trees, dancing bears, tin solders, a huge train, and so many more it nearly took her breath away. They walked through lighted tunnels, past Mary and Joseph looking upon the newborn Babe. They strolled along a pebbled path to a tiny house that held at least a hundred animated Santas, carolers, angels, and music boxes, all playing carols with glee.
Truly Yours Contemporary Collection December 2014 Page 59