Amy shot Will a meaningful glance. “I wouldn’t leave it for much longer, dearie. We’re not getting any younger, but I do think it’s time to quit for tonight.”
Callie helped prepare them for bed, then retired to the kitchen where she poured a glass of wine to sit and contemplate Will and Amy’s story. She wondered how they worked out their problems and if perhaps she should be doing more to move on with her own life. She wouldn’t have Will and Amy to look after forever. She needed to consider her options. Did she want to return to nursing or should she choose another career?
She finished her wine and went to bed. Thankfully her sleep was free of nightmares for once, however, erotic dreams of Michael plagued her instead. She wasn’t sure which was more upsetting. She’d have a hard time looking the doctor in the face the next time he visited.
The following day, Will was quiet and withdrawn and only pushed his food around his plate. Amy appeared concerned and refused to leave his side. Callie tried to coax him to eat, but he refused, saying he was too damn tired. When he appeared to sleep most of the next day, her anxiety climbed a notch. By Friday, Will seemed to perk up slightly. He said there was nothing wrong but old age.
Come Saturday, Amy had Callie making another pie for Michael, apple this time. She’d just put it in the oven when the phone rang. Wiping her hands on her apron, Callie hurried to the living room to pick up the receiver.
“Henderson’s residence.”
“Hey, Cal . . .”
Callie’s heart sped up at the warm timber of Michael’s voice. She’d become used to his austere, clipped tone, so this new Michael was almost as annoying as the old. Before she found him irritating, but now he disturbed her on a much deeper level, disrupting the carefully constructed walls she’d built after her return from Afghanistan.
“May I speak with my grandmother?”
“Sure.” Callie went into the kitchen and held out the receiver to Amy.
“It’s Michael.”
Curious as to why Michael called, but not wishing to eavesdrop on Amy’s conversation, Callie took a seat in the living room until she was done. After fifteen minutes, Amy slowly ambled in and set the receiver on its cradle.
“Unfortunately, Michael won’t be coming tomorrow, so I guess there will be plenty of pie for us.”
The disappointment on Amy’s face riled Callie, and she cursed under her breath at the doctor. “Did he say why he couldn’t make it? It’s not like him to miss a Sunday afternoon.”
“Said he’s going to be out of town for a couple of weeks and has paperwork to catch up on before he flies out tomorrow.”
“But did you tell him Will wasn’t up to par? Can’t he postpone his trip?”
“Heavens no. Neither Will nor I would want him to do that. He does important work. We certainly don’t want to be a bother to him. Besides, we are in good hands.” Amy reached over and patted her arm. “I’m only sorry he’s going to miss out on that apple pie you made him. We’ll have to make another one when he returns.”
In a pig’s eye, Callie thought but was too astute to say. She felt disappointed in Michael for not coming as planned, and for leaving town without a word to her. He was probably headed for a warm sandy beach with a hot nurse on his arm despite his protestations. “We’ll eat the pie ourselves and never mind about Michael.”
Fuming over Michael’s absence, Callie threw a load of wash in and vacuumed while dinner cooked. Nothing like a little house cleaning to work off one’s frustration. When supper was ready, she fixed trays of food and took them into the den where they all settled down to dine.
Will continued to eat only a small amount while Amy fussed over him. Callie suggested they suspend the storytelling until Will felt better, but Will insisted they finish the story that night.
“I think perhaps we should wait until you are more yourself,” Callie disagreed.
Will snorted. “This is as good as it gets, as sad as that is, and I think we need to hurry up and be done with it.”
Will’s insistence set off alarm bells. She glanced from him to Amy, who’d taken her husband’s hand and squeezed it. Love radiated from her as she gazed at him with unspoken words only the two understood.
“No, Will’s right. It’s time we finished it, and I believe it’s my turn to pick up where we left off. I was about to discover that Will had hightailed it off the farm without a spoken word to me and broke my heart in the process . . .”
Chapter 38
October 1948
Thomas bounced on Amy’s bed jarring her from the dream she’d been pleasantly lost in. The brat. She swatted him on the behind as he crawled in bed to snuggle with her. He was a soft sweet-smelling bundle of joy not at all like the hard, muscular, taciturn Marine she’d been cuddled against a few hours earlier. She had wanted to stay with Will, but couldn’t leave Thomas alone in the house, so with deep reluctance she slipped back into her nightgown and robe and returned to her lonely bed. Hopefully, it wouldn’t stay that way for long.
Since neither she nor Will had to be in the fields this morning, there was no reason to rush downstairs to fix breakfast. Will would come up when he was hungry, and she couldn’t wait. Matter-of-fact, if she got up now and fixed their breakfast, she could send Thomas to the barn to get Will and she wouldn’t have to wait till later to see him.
With that plan in mind, she scrambled out of bed, quickly washed, and trotted down to the kitchen. Today called for something special—perhaps pancakes and eggs instead of the usual oatmeal and toast. As soon as she had a stack of flapjacks piled on a plate and the last four eggs fried, she popped down two slices of toast and sent Thomas to the barn to get Will. When Thomas didn’t come right back, she went to the door and called for him.
Her son stood dejectedly inside the open barn door, his hand on Molly’s collar. Amy dropped the towel she held in her hand and took off at a run across the expanse of yard between the house and the barn. She put her hand on her son’s slumped shoulder. “Where’s Will?”
“I couldn’t find him or Shep. Do you think they went to the fields?” Thomas asked hopefully.
A sinking feeling began in the pit of her stomach as she pushed the door open and noted that Shep’s things were gone from the barn. She continued to the tack room and her heart broke in half. It took only a second to note that all of Will’s personal belongings were gone. He’d left without saying good-bye, as if last night had never happened. How could he be that heartless? How could he go after what they shared together last night? Thomas would be heartbroken. She was devastated. She plopped down on Will’s bed and pressed the pillow he’d left behind to her nose. She could still smell his musky scent on the cloth. She held it to her chest and rocked back and forth.
“Mommy.” Thomas’s quivering voice brought her out of herself. “Did Mr. Will leave?”
He put his thumb in his mouth and began to suck.
She sighed and drew her son’s little body against hers for comfort. “I think he did.”
“Did he take Shep with him?”
“I image so, but he left Molly for you.”
Thomas’s lips quivered. “But, but, Mols will be lonely without Shep.”
Mols wouldn’t be the only one feeling that way. She hugged her son, then let go and ruffled his hair. “I guess she’ll have to start spending her nights in your room with you. That way she’ll have company.”
“Oh boy. Oh boy.” Thomas let go of her and began hugging his dog. “You hear that, Mols? You get to sleep with me now. Come on, girl, I’ll show you where your new bed is.” He glanced at Amy as if to gain permission.
She shook her head, relieved she’d been able to assuage Thomas’s loss that quickly. If only there was something to ease the pain in the center of her breast. She laid down on Will’s bed, wrapped the covers with his scent around her, and wept
until she felt spent. Then, she carefully smoothed his covers back in place as if he’d be back to crawl under them come evening although she knew deep down he’d left for good.
She took one last glance around the room and in doing so spied the envelope with her name written on it lying flat on the table next to the oil lamp. With shaking fingers, she picked it up and held it to her chest, but couldn’t bring herself to open it yet. If she didn’t read the words, then Will’s leaving wasn’t real. She folded the envelope and tucked it in her apron pocket. She’d read it later when she had more time to adjust to the thought of Will being gone.
It wasn’t until bedtime that she opened the letter.
Dear Amy,
Never being one for good-byes, I thought to make it easier for both of us if I slipped away. I cannot thank you enough for allowing me the privilege of living on the farm with you and Thomas.
The time spent with you and working the farm saved me from the downward spiral I found myself trapped in and gave me hope that someday I might return to being the old Will again, or at least a new Will that I, and maybe someday, a woman can live with. I hope you can find happiness again in your life. You are one terrific little lady who deserves to be loved and cherished. Don’t allow the shadow of your ex to haunt your days. You deserve better. You and I were two broken souls in need of repair. Two halves make a whole, but the whole lacks sturdiness. Not a good recipe for a healthy relationship.
I’m not sure if our paths will cross again, but maybe one day when the geese fly north you’ll find happiness once more. You are a very special lady.
Will
Deep, heartfelt sobs tore from her throat. She had grown to love Will during their time together and had hoped that perhaps he felt the same, but mired in his own painful memories as he was, whatever feelings he may have developed toward her were secondary to the raw wounds of his past. She only hoped that someday he’d be able to find the peace he was searching for and once again find happiness. She placed the letter in the drawer of the bedside table and turned out the light.
She would have to face tomorrow when it came.
Chapter 39
Winter had settled in and blanketed the Ohio farm fields under two feet of snow. Will had been ensconced in his boyhood bedroom at his parents’ farmhouse for a little over two months. Although it felt good to see his family, he also realized the old adage, “You can’t go home again” was in fact, true. His mother welcomed him back with open arms. He and his father were cordial, but they had yet to clear the air—something Will intended to do before leaving in the spring which he’d determined was a foregone conclusion.
He helped around the farm to feel useful. Mucking stalls and milking cows as needed. He went to the local VA hospital for an adjustment with his prosthesis and while he was there spoke to a doctor about his nightmares and to his own surprise, he agreed to speak with him once a week which not only helped reduce them, but seemed to lighten the weight he’d been carrying on his shoulders. Except for missing Amy and Thomas, he’d begun to feel as though he were on the mend. The loss of Amy and her son had left a gnawing ache in his chest similar to what he felt when he first lost his foot. A nagging reminder that he’d left a vitally important part of himself behind and was no longer whole. He continued to suppress the emotion, but as the holidays approached he wondered how they were doing and if they missed him as much as he did them.
He’d just finished brushing Belle, the farm’s oldest mare, when his father entered the barn.
“You’ve been out here quite a while, son. You all right?”
“Yeah, Dad. The barn feels like home to me is all.”
His dad said nothing but waited with a quizzical expression for him to continue.
“I spent the last six months working a small farm in New York for a woman and her young son before returning here. I boarded in the barn behind their house.”
“I see.” His father’s dark-gray eyes studied him waiting for him to say more.
Will stared back at his father and thought perhaps his father really did understand. He sighed, set the currying brush down, and leaned against an old barrel. “I owe you an apology for leaving the way I did when I enlisted in the Marines. I should have stayed until I got called up. I left you shorthanded.”
His father put his beefy hands in his pockets and appeared surprised by Will’s statement. “You think I was upset because you left me without a farmhand?”
“That, and the fact I didn’t discuss it with you beforehand.”
“You were a grown man, son. You didn’t need my permission, nor did I expect you to continue to sit out the war. I only hoped my boys would be spared the ugliness of battle. After serving in the army during the Great War, I’d always prayed that none of my children would have to witness or be a part of such carnage. It changes a man as I expect you’ve discovered.”
Will nodded then asked what he’d often wondered about. “How did you get beyond it? I can’t seem to right myself.”
“Time and the love of a good woman helped me. I had nightmares for years, but they lessened over time. Your mother stood beside me and refused to give up on me. Your cross is perhaps heavier than mine was. Physically I came home in one piece and your mother was waiting here for me. Yours was not the case. Learning to live with the physical changes you’ve endured along with the horrific images etched in your brain may take a bit longer. Perhaps you’ve set unrealistic expectations for yourself. Compare where you were mentally after you were wounded to where you are now and tell me that you aren’t in a better place.”
Will thought about his father’s words and realized they were true—that comparing those first dark days in the hospital to now, he had indeed gained some ground. The summer he spent working Amy’s farm had eased his concerns regarding his physical limitations and even his mental state had improved significantly.
His father put a hand on his shoulder and patted. “Give it time. Time has a way of healing all wounds. That . . .” He smiled and raised a brow. “And a good woman will do the rest. And unless I miss my guess, you left one of those behind, and I’m not talking about the high-flyer you were engaged to.” With that said, his father turned and left the barn, leaving Will to ponder his words.
With Christmas creeping around the corner, Will went into town to shop for gifts for his family. He settled on a nice wool scarf for his mother, a new pipe for his dad, and couldn’t resist buying a toy John Deer tractor for Thomas or the framed print of a flock of geese flying over a white farmhouse entitled “Springtime” for Amy. The picture reminded him of the place he now considered home, one that perhaps he’d been foolish to leave.
After the store clerk wrapped each of his gifts, he stopped at the post office to mail the packages to Albion. He enclosed a card wishing Amy and Thomas a Merry Christmas. He felt better after having done so.
A week after Christmas, he received a thank you note from Amy with a stick figure drawing from Thomas.
Dear Will,
I hope you are well and had a nice holiday.
Thomas and I were quite surprised by your thoughtful and unexpected gifts. I placed the framed print you sent on the fireplace mantle and find it comforting to gaze at during the dark lonely evenings. It reminds me that eventually the long winter will pass and spring will be ushered in bringing with it a new beginning.
Take care of yourself, my dear friend, and should you ever return this way, please remember you always have a room at the farm.
Your friend,
Amy
P.S. Thomas wanted to write you too. I’ve enclosed his artwork.
Will picked up the drawing Thomas had created. There were five stick figures, two which were obviously dogs. He hoped the tall one was supposed to be him. He didn’t like to think that perhaps another man had entered the picture. He set it down and sighed with r
egret.
He was a damn fool.
Chapter 40
As the cold miserable winter whimpered its way out, the small green tips of the crocuses began to poke their heads through the wet soil as the late March sunshine warmed it. Amy poured herself another cup of coffee and reached for the log book Will had given her. It was time to think about the early planting, and she needed to be prepared to hire someone to help start the process. Thanks to Will she now felt confident she could stand on her own two feet when it came to managing the farm.
Today was Saturday and her day off from the diner. Right before the holidays, she’d been given a full-time weekday position and no longer had to work the weekends. The extra money had come in handy allowing her to save most of last year’s farm profits. She would be able to hire an extra part-time person to help with the harvest come the fall. This afternoon while her mom kept Thomas, she and Fran planned to peruse the winter clearance sales in hopes of finding a few new things to wear for their planned evening out.
After Will left, Amy hadn’t felt much like dancing, but now that spring had arrived she began to feel her old self emerge. Although she still missed Will, things had improved in her life. She had a job to make ends meet, she felt more confident about managing the farm, and thanks to Will she felt desirable as a woman again. Of course, the ten pounds she shed working in the fields over the long busy summer helped her self-image considerably.
“Hey girl,” Amy called out the window of her truck as she pulled into Fran’s driveway.
Fran rose from where she’d been sitting on the front porch and came to meet her. “Are we driving or walking?”
When The Geese Fly North Page 17