by Vickie Hall
“And this time I asked for the address,” Edna said with excitement. “It’s in a nice area.”
Irene glanced at the address Edna had scribbled on the card. “That’s on our way to work,” she exclaimed, throttling Bonnie’s arm. “I could give you a ride!”
Bonnie didn’t want to ride with Irene. It would be too much, she thought, too much temptation to talk to her, let things slip out, because Irene was easy to talk to and never seemed to judge her. It had been difficult enough as it was, Bonnie decided. She couldn’t let Irene continue being her chauffeur. “Well, we’ll cross that bridge when we come to it, if we come to it,” she amended. “I haven’t exactly got the apartment yet.”
“No one else knows about it,” Edna added. “I asked him. So call right now. You can use my phone.”
Irene nodded and gently pushed Bonnie toward the counter. “That’s a great idea, Edna.”
Bonnie looked at the two women, their mature faces filled with confidence and assurance. Maybe this apartment was her only chance to get out of the Orton’s, even if it would take another six weeks. She certainly hadn’t had any luck otherwise. She reached for the phone and dialed the number on the card.
Irene and Edna clasped hands, standing beside Bonnie as she spoke. They looked like eager cheerleaders waiting for the star quarterback to throw the game-winning touchdown pass. Bonnie almost chuckled at them as the ringing phone sounded in her ear.
“Hello? Yes, I’m calling about the apartment you posted at Edna’s Pet—yes, that’s the one. Yes, I understand it won’t be available right away…the first of November. How much is the rent? Plus utilities…yes, Ihave a cat…oh, a twenty-dollar deposit…no, I could do that. When would be a good time to see the apartment?” She looked at Irene and grinned. “Saturday?” Irene nodded. “Yes, that would be fine…Bonnie Cooper. I’ll see you then. Thank you.” She hung up and smiled at the two women.
Irene and Edna burst into a cheer, clapping their hands and doing their version of jumping up and down. “You’re celebrating a bit early, aren’t you?” Bonnie asked.
“I’ve got a feeling,” Irene breathed.
“Me too,” Edna added. “You’ll get it.”
///////
Bonnie was pleased with the inspection of the apartment, smaller than the one at the Drake, but adequate for her needs. She placed a deposit down on it for occupancy the first of November and paid the twenty-dollar pet fee. She was feeling somewhat relieved that she’d soon have an apartment of her own again, but six weeks was still a long time to live with the Ortons.
“Thanks again for bringing me,” she said to Irene as they climbed back into Irene’s car. “It looks like a nice place.”
Irene shut her car door and started the engine. “It does. I think you and Baby Girl will be happy there.”
“We will,” she said with a nod. “I don’t know what I’d do without all your help.”
Irene pulled out to the street. “Speaking of help, I could use yours,” she said, keeping her eyes on the road.
Bonnie would do almost anything for Irene, she decided, especially after everything she had done for her. “I’d be glad to. What is it?”
“I got a call last night from my brother-in-law,” she said with a cheerful tone. “His son, my nephew Glen, is coming home. Al wants a welcome-home dinner for him next week and he asked if I’d host it. He’s all alone there and wouldn’t know the first thing about planning a party, much less host one. Of course I told him I’d be thrilled to do it, and I could really use your help.”
For a moment Bonnie flinched at the idea of a family party, but then she had to remind herself that she not only knew most of Irene’s family, but she owed them a huge debt of gratitude. “You can count on me. I’ll be happy to help.”
Irene smiled at Bonnie, then turned her eyes back to the road. “Good, I knew you would. Glen and his younger brother Sam were my sister’s boys. She died when Glen was, oh, about ten years old, I think. His father did his best to raise the boys by himself, but you know it’s just not the same when there’s no mother in the house. Glen and Sam used to spend a lot of their summers with us. They loved playing with my kids and we loved having them.”
They drove a few blocks and Irene picked up the conversation again. “Glen’s a nice young man. He’s a little shy, I’d say, hasn’t married yet. But I expect that’ll all change now that the war is over and he’s home safe and sound.”
“Aside from your immediate family, how many others will you be expecting?”
Irene put her elbows on the steering wheel so she could use her fingers to count. “Let’s see. There will be my sixteen, counting me and Don, then Al, that’s Glen’s dad, Glen…” Irene had to put one hand back on the steering wheel. “You keep track,” she said, straightening the course of the straying vehicle. “Glen’s brother, Sam, is still in Japan. He’s in the Navy and was tapped to stay on there for a few months, but Sam’s wife, Virginia, and their daughter, Violet, will be there. Then my brother, Jake, his wife, Margaret, and their two daughters, their husbands, and…seven kids…” She turned her gaze back to Bonnie. “How many are we up to?”
Bonnie snorted. “Are you sure you shouldn’t rent a gymnasium or something? I think that’s about thirty-three people.”
“Did you count yourself?”
Bonnie held up a hand. “No. I’m happy to help, but I’d feel—”
“You’d feel like part of the family,” Irene said with resolve. “And I won’t take no for an answer. So that makes it thirty-four people for dinner. I usually put as many of the children as I can at the tables, then the adults can fix a plate and find a place to sit wherever…”
Bonnie knew she’d lose any argument with Irene over attending the party and resigned herself to the gathering. Suddenly Irene let out a little yip. “Oh, I almost forgot Aunt Ada! She’s my aunt on my mother’s side. She must be near ninety now. I haven’t seen her in a few months. She lives in Lincoln, so she probably won’t come, but I’d feel awful if she weren’t invited.”
“That’s a lot of people to cook for,” Bonnie said. “Are you sure you wouldn’t rather do cake and ice cream instead of a whole dinner?”
Irene inclined her head. “That’s a nice thought, but we’re a dinner kind of family. We like to eat.”
“Why not do something simple, then?” Bonnie suggested. “Like hot dogs for the kids and spaghetti for the adults? Throw in some salad, some garlic bread, and you won’t have to do quite so much cooking or cleaning up.”
Irene’s eyes brightened behind her glasses. “You know, that’s a splendid idea! Glen served most of the war in Italy. We could make it a theme! And I think hot dogs sound great for the kids. I’ll bet they’d take a hot dog over most anything else.”
“We can have the women each bring a pot of spaghetti sauce or some hot dogs and buns.”
“This is great,” Irene said, slowing for a yellow light. “When we get home, we’ll sit down and make up an assignment list, then some calls and get the ball rolling.” She brought the car to a stop, turned toward Bonnie, and smiled. “Thank you for coming up with such a creative idea. Ilove it.”
“I’m glad you thought it was helpful.”
Irene laughed. “And you know what? We’ll do it all over again when Glen’s brother comes home.”
///////
Glen exited the train and stood on the platform. He peered through the crowd of people, looking for his father. It had been over three years since he’d seen him, three years since he’d set foot in Omaha. He felt an odd mix of anxiety and reluctance churn in his gut. He was home, but it was the last place on earth he wanted to be.
He thought about Amy, leaving her alone—leaving her when he might have stayed, might have tried to make her love him. At least he wouldn’t be alone anymore, wouldn’t feel so desperately empty. All he wanted was what Charlie had had, a love so real, so deep that it lasted beyond the grave. Was there anything wrong with that? But then he knew it would have b
een a sort of betrayal to Charlie’s memory. It wasn’t that Amy didn’t deserve to be loved again, but he realized it had to be Amy’s choice. He might have been able to coast along on the strength of Charlie’s love for her, been a substitute for her dead husband. But that wouldn’t have been fair to either of them. And so now he stood facing an uncertain future, waiting for his life to begin.
Someone came up behind him and tapped Glen on the shoulder. He only vaguely turned, fearful of missing his father. From the corner of his eye he saw the rumpled suit, and the familiar stooped shoulders. “Dad!” he said, spinning now to see his father. “Where’d you come from?”
“Hi, son,” he said with a laugh. He threw his arms around Glen. “I called your name, but I guess you couldn’t hear me.”
Al Taggart’s eyes filled with tears, his hand clamped over Glen’s shoulder. “I’m so glad you’re home,” he said. “I’m proud of you, son.”
Glen studied his father’s face, peering into his whiskey brown eyes, the same color he shared with his father. “I’m sorry I didn’t get here sooner.”
“I understand. Did you get everything taken care of in Montana?” he asked.
“Sure,” he replied, picking up his bag. “I’ll tell you all about it when we get home.”
Al shook his head as they started to walk. “I can’t believe you’re really here.”
“It’s good to see you too, Dad. Have you heard from Sam?”
Al nodded as he veered toward his 1937 Ford Model 47. “Got a letter just last week. He expects to be about six months more before they let him come home. Virginia and Violet are doing well—in fact, you’ll be seeing them this Sunday. Your aunt Irene is giving you a welcome-home dinner.”
Glen pulled a face. “She doesn’t need to go to all that trouble.”
“Well, I asked if she’d handle it for me, but you know your aunt Irene,” Al said with a chuckle. He opened the car door and paused with a foot just inside. “She loves those big get-togethers. And everyone is anxious to see you. It’s been a long time.”
Glen threw his bag into the back seat of the two-door and joined his father inside the car. “I know. It’ll be good to see everyone again.”
Al let out a breath and looked at his son. “I still can’t get over the fact that you’re home.” Tears welled in his eyes again. “I prayed for you…every day…”
Glen nodded and gave a little smile. “Thanks, Dad. Iwas one of the lucky ones.” Al lowered his head. “I’m sorry about your friend Charlie, son. Tough break.” “Yeah, tough break.”
That night, Glen slept in his own bed, in his own room for the first time in months. It felt the same to him, smelled the same, cast the same shadows it used to when he was a kid. The war seemed like a bad dream now, something that had happened a long time ago in a different life, and yet was as close to him as his shadow.
He still couldn’t get used to the quiet, couldn’t dismiss the feeling that he still needed to be wary and watchful, that at any moment the quiet could erupt into gunfire. A full moon hung low in the September sky, casting its silvery light through the window. Clasping his hands behind his head, Glen peered up at the ceiling as silhouetted tree limbs danced across the room. A tear welled from the corner of his eye and trickled down the side of his face. He was home. He was really home.
Chapter 18
Sunday proved to be a beautiful day. The temperature was warm and balmy, which would allow some of the thirty-four dinner guests to eat outdoors on the lawn. The kitchen of the Orton house was packed with bodies vying for space to maneuver food in and out of the kitchen. In the thick of things, Bonnie stood over the stove with boiling pots of water for hotdogs and pasta. She’d put on one of Irene’s aprons and had been busy for the last two days assisting Irene with every detail of the welcome-home party.
With the buzzing activity about her, the convivial conversations, the sense that everyone was woven together in this thing called family, Bonnie felt herself stitched in with them, a part of their intricate pattern. Her heart warmed with their easy acceptance of her, their inclusion and their smiles. She found herself trapped between the two things she wanted most—solitude where she could protect her past, and the overwhelming feeling of love she received from the Ortons. She never expected to find herself in such a conflicted position. Yet, in just a few short weeks, she would be back in her own apartment, just as she’d wanted and no longer an adopted part of the Orton clan. She would miss them, miss their connections to one another, to that something that held them together with all their shared past, present, and future.
“Glen’s here!” someone shouted above the din of commotion. “He’s here!”
The family funneled out of the kitchen, the dining room, the bathroom, and every room in the house as Glen stepped through the front door. He was mobbed by hungry arms and boisterous voices. Bonnie stood back, just inside the kitchen where she could see the happy reunion unfold. From the glimpses she caught between hugs and kisses, Glen appeared to be tall, with rugged good looks and thick, wavy hair. The dimples in his cheeks were in full display as he greeted each person with a smile and a kiss. Bonnie felt a hitch in her stomach at the sight of him. She pushed it down and tried to ignore the odd feeling.
Someone started playing the piano and soon everyone was singing For He’s a Jolly Good Fellow at the top of their lungs. Glen appeared a little embarrassed, but took it in good humor. His smile was infectious, Bonnie thought, and found a reciprocal smile spreading across her lips. She reached up and touched her mouth as if to wipe the smile from it.
“Speech! Speech!” Irene called out at the conclusion of the song.
Glen waved his hand from side to side and lowered his gaze. “No, no,” he protested mildly. More cheers of encouragement erupted and finally Glen relented, hushing the crowd while
patting the air. He cleared his throat as the family quieted. “First, let me thank you all for such a wonderful reception. It’s so good to see everyone here.” A murmur of mutual consensus sounded through the living room. “I really missed you. Thank you for your letters and your prayers. It was pretty tough going sometimes, but I always knew you were here cheering me on.”
He paused a moment and raked a hand through his hair. It was obvious he was struggling to stay in control. “I saw a lot of things I hope to forget…and a few things I hope to remember. Most of all, I hope we never fight a war like this again.” He glanced down at the floor and worked the muscles in his lean jaw. Glen looked at the people before him and offered a weak smile. “Anyway, it’s good to be home.”
Bonnie shrank back into the kitchen, his sentiment stirring in her emotions she hadn’t expected to feel. She couldn’t explain why his words touched her. Maybe it was his sincerity, maybe it was how everyone in the country felt now that the war was over. Whatever the reason, it had the back of her throat aching. As the family began to dissipate from the living room, Bonnie quietly swiped at her eyes and stirred a pot of pasta.
Irene came into the kitchen and placed a hand on her shoulder. “Come on,” she said with a gentle smile. “I want to introduce you to Glen.”
Bonnie felt her heart sink. She couldn’t be rude and refuse, but she wanted to. She suddenly felt exposed, no longer a fixture of the family nestled in the comfort of the whole. When Irene took her by the arm, Bonnie went along, but vowed she’d keep it brief.
Irene’s eyes sparkled as she caught Glen’s attention and crooked her finger at him. He smiled, those dimples drilling into his cheeks. “Iwant you to meet someone,” she began, gesturing to Bonnie. “Glen, this is Bonnie Cooper. She works with me at Kirkendall’s.”
Glen scowled at his aunt. “Hmm. And she just happens to be single, I suppose? And you just happened to invite her to my homecoming—very convenient.”
“Glen Taggart!” Irene’s face filled with indignation. “For your information—”
“Look,” Bonnie interrupted as she thrust her hands to her hips. “I’m here only because of your aunt�
�s kindness. I happen to be living in her basement at the moment. She didn’t drag me along just to meet you.”
Irene’s brows drew together, her gaze boring into her nephew. “She’s been staying with your uncle Don and me for the past few weeks. She was evicted from her apartment because she took in a little kitten.”
Glen shoved his hands into his pockets and took a step back. “Oh.”
“Oh, is right. I think you owe Bonnie an apology, young man,” Irene said.
Glen sighed and looked at Bonnie. “Sorry. I just thought she was trying to set me up.”
Bonnie felt even more out of place now, as well as embarrassed. Then a tinge of anger crept its way into her disposition. He had certainly assumed a lot on his part. She was only here to help Irene and the family, not be presented as some sort of door prize for him. She folded her arms and angled her head. “Don’t worry about it, corporal.” She spun on her heel and returned to the kitchen.
A pot of angry water boiled on the stove. Bonnie grabbed a handful of hot dogs and threw them in, feeling as riled now as the pot of churning water. She visibly shook her head, as if to dislodge her previous thoughts of him, the way he’d sounded during his speech, the dimples, and those dark, moist eyes. Wiping her hands on a towel, she turned back to the kitchen table.
Glen was there, his hands still dangling from his pockets, his elbows skewed to the side in defeat. “Listen, I’m sorry.”
Bonnie flicked him a look of dismissal. “As I said, corporal, it’s nothing to worry about.”
“It’s Glen,” he said, withdrawing a hand and offering it to her. “Bonnie, wasn’t it?”
She glanced at his hand and picked up a tray of buns. “I’m pretty busy here,” she said brusquely. “You’d better get back to your family.”
Glen reached for the platter. “Let me help—”
“I’ve got it,” she said, swinging the tray to the side.
Glen’s lips tightened into a thin line. “Fine.”