Until June

by Barbara M. Britton

  “Will you stay with me?”

  She held up the white covering. “I brought the afghan, so I could curl up on the couch.”

  “Curl up at my feet so I know you’re near.”

  Was he slipping into another memory? He didn’t have feet.

  He sat against the head board. “What time is it?”

  “Almost two in the morning.” She lay on her side, on the bed, facing him.

  He sank back into his pillow. “Merry Christmas, Jo.”

  Wrapping the afghan around her body, she said, “Merry Christmas, outstanding veteran.”

  Her veteran.

  22

  The new year—1919—came. She remained the Gin Rummy queen. As she crossed the days off her calendar, she willed the sound of yipping dogs to break the silence and bring her a copy of February’s Woman’s Home Companion.

  A faint shouting echoed in the tall spruce.

  “Your boyfriend’s back,” Geoff called.

  She shut the oven door and then dressed in a coat and boots in record time. Stuffing her hair in a woven cap, she sprinted to the porch.

  The Aleutian musher held out a sack of mail.

  “Won’t you stay and have some tea with us?” she asked.

  “No stopping,” the musher mumbled.

  She hurried into the lodge, handed Geoff the mail, shoved her coat in the closet, and stationed herself next to Geoff’s spot on the couch. Hovering over his shoulder, she scanned each letter as he flipped through the mail.

  “Belated birthday cards for me.” Geoff flung his cards onto the next cushion. “Two letters for you.” He held up an envelope. “Woman’s Home Companion, editorial office.”

  She whisked the letter out of his hand.

  “Open it down here. I’m not allowed to chase you upstairs. Besides, your typist deserves some consideration.”

  Sliding her finger under the lip of the envelope, she removed the letter and sped through the first paragraph—greetings and a commendation for entering the contest. She concentrated on every word in the second paragraph. Her heart stuttered. The story winner was—Mr. Morris Hennessey of Scranton, Pennsylvania.

  She read his name again and again as if the lettering would morph and change and proclaim her the victor.

  “Well,” Geoff prompted.

  She folded the letter and smoothed the crease between her fingers. An odd buzzing hummed in her ears.

  “I didn’t win.” I let you down. “They picked a man from Pennsylvania.” Her eyelids fluttered. “Outcast sounds like an interesting story.”

  “Outcast?” His voice rose with disbelief. “How could you get more outcast than an amputee on an Alaskan island?”

  She picked up her other letters from the table. “It was my first try at writing. Guess I wasn’t good enough.”

  “Your story was first-rate.” His affirmation was awkwardly high-pitched. “They played it safe. Didn’t want to draw a wheelchair, or a cut-off man. I should have let you write a fairy tale.” He wadded up the mail sack and threw it in the fire.

  His praise dulled the sting of losing. “I wouldn’t have written my story any other way.”

  “Well, I’m proud of Greg and Daria. In fact, I’m making flapjacks for dinner to treat the best darn writer I know.” He tugged on the arm of his wheelchair to bring it closer.

  “You don’t know many writers, do you?” She tried to smile but found it broken. “And I don’t mind cooking dinner. It’s something I’m good at. Bet I’m better than Mr. Hennessey.”

  She halted in the threshold of the kitchen. “You might want to sneak in a game of cards tonight, seems like my luck’s changing.”

  Later, she sat on her bed and opened mail, hoping for happier news. The scent of crushed roses filled her nostrils. A letter from Ann rested on top of the pile. She read her sister’s news.

  Marty proposed!

  What! Her stomach twisted like discarded thread. She read on.

  We intend to wed this summer. Mother is checking dates with Father Demetriev. I couldn’t be happier. Marty is so handsome in his three-piece suit.

  Please do not mention the engagement to Mr. Chambers. Marty doesn’t want him worrying about the mine.

  Hah! Marty doesn’t want Geoff worrying about those crooked ledgers, the gambling, and the mysterious Mr. Young. She crumpled the letter and threw it in the corner of the room.

  Worst. Day. Ever.

  She flopped backward on the bed. Mr. Hennessey was probably celebrating his victory, brimming with satisfaction at seeing his story in print. In a little over four months, she would be home sewing dresses. First and foremost would be Ann’s wedding dress. She should be happy for her sister. If anyone could keep Marty Hill tightly stitched and straight ironed, it was headstrong Ann.

  Rolling on her side, her chest hiccupped. It sank and rose and sank even deeper.

  Tears followed.

  Why did she write that story? Did people even care about Geoff’s sacrifice? Or was it easier to pretend veterans like Geoff didn’t exist? She had let Geoff down. But she would make sure he had the best possible care in their last few months together.

  That night, she tallied the rummy wins:

  Geoff- 18

  Jo- 7

  Darn. Her luck had changed.

  ~*~

  Two weeks later, she was bent over the tub, her hands covered in cleanser, when she heard a strange clicking sound as if Geoff had borrowed her heeled boots. She sat back and shook the hair out of her eyes. Geoff wearing shoes? Impossible. Washing the cleanser from her hands, she went to investigate.

  In the middle of the living room, Geoff and the beast were in a tug-of-war over a bright red bandanna.

  “What is going on in here?”

  Geoff pushed on the beast’s hind quarters.

  “Sit, dog, sit.”

  The beast released the bandanna and jogged her direction. He sat at attention, dusting the floor with his tail. She bent over and rubbed his cool snout.

  “Oh, come on. We practiced, you traitor.” Geoff walked stiff-legged to the couch. “What do you say? Do I get a smile? I captured that mutt and let him in my house. It’s been too quiet around here. I’m tired of winning at cards. It’s more enjoyable trying to beat you.”

  The beast barked at Geoff’s exasperated rant.

  She turned toward Geoff and tried to keep a straight face, but laughter rang out of her mouth.

  “That was the most ridiculous tug-of-war I have ever seen.”

  “I thought he’d play nice.” Geoff crossed his arms and fake pouted.

  Rubbing the beast’s ears, she said, “I have been a bit down, but don’t worry. I’m going to pump up that Singer machine and sew. Crafting patterns will help me forget about the contest.”

  “Good. Because if Tubby sees puffy eyes and a forlorn face, I’ll get the blame.”

  “Tubby won’t be out this way for a while.”

  “Since the winter’s been mild, I’m thinking he might be able to ferry out in March.”

  “Ferry?”

  “Our families.” Geoff reached over and gestured for the beast to come near. When the dog did, Geoff yanked the bandanna from the beast’s mouth. A triumphant grin lit up his face. “We’ll invite everyone out to the lodge.”

  Everyone?

  23

  “Both our families?” The beast cocked his head at her squeak of a question.

  “Yes, your family and mine. My father, Bradley… I doubt Julia will come.”

  She didn’t answer. A surge of energy had her mind racing with a list of tasks that needed to be done.

  “Well, say something. I can’t read that darn poker face of yours.”

  “You really mean it?” She grasped the back of her chair to steady herself.

  “Yes. You give me absolutely no hint of what you’re thinking.” He tossed the handkerchief up in the air and watched it float to the floor.

  “No.” She chuckled. “I mean the party. We’ll host it here?”
<
br />   “Why not? We need some fun. Bradley’s been eager to come for a visit. Since you didn’t go home at Christmas, you can catch up with your family.”

  She would see her mother. Hear the town gossip. She jumped over the dog and flung her arms around Geoff’s neck. His hands steadied her weight.

  “Thank you.” Her words came out muffled against his shoulder. He smelled of soap and damp dog fur. She pulled from his embrace. “I know you don’t like company, but my mother will be able to see where we live.”

  Geoff still gripped her body. Her heart pumped a fast beat. His firm touch made her want to hug him one more time.

  She didn’t.

  Instead, she reclined in her chair with her feet tucked underneath her skirt. The beast nuzzled her arm looking for affection.

  “My mother will be able to picture where I am when she reads my letters.”

  “I thought you’d like this idea. I’ll notify Tubby to put us on the schedule.”

  “If we’re going to host our families, we’ll need to decorate the lodge.” She scanned the living room making mental notes of improvements.

  “What’s wrong with the lodge?” He lounged on the couch as if the beast had tired him out. “Looks fine to me.”

  She tilted her head. “There are no colorful pillows to accent this room or your bed. The sheers are tattered on the bottom…”

  “Jo, it’s a party. No one will care about pillows.”

  “The window treatments are front and center for everyone to see. That’ll be my first project.”

  “Project? Sounds like work. I want us to have fun.” He combed his fingers through his hair. Did he regret mentioning the party?

  “Oh, we will have fun. But first, I need to order material and pick out colors. We’ll need a new tablecloth, too.”

  “Colors?” He repeated as if he’d never heard the word.

  “Don’t worry. I’ll use blues and greens—manly hues. Right, boy?” She smoothed the beast’s ruff. “Oh, um.” Her mouth became as dry as talcum powder. The money she had at the lodge wouldn’t cover but a few yards of fabric. “Can I order material? With your money?”

  He rubbed his chin looking as if he was deep in thought.

  It was a simple question. What did he have to ponder?

  His eyebrows arched and a grin as wide as her enthusiasm flashed across his face. “Order whatever you need.”

  ~*~

  On Saturday, March 22, she dashed to Geoff’s bedroom and arranged clothes, legs, and decorative pillows.

  “Slow down.” Geoff ate a bite of egg. “I haven’t seen you this crazy. You’re going to be exhausted before the ship docks.”

  She poked her head into the dining room. “We haven’t hosted a party before. I want everything to be spit-polish perfect.”

  “Look outside. It’s a glorious forty-nine degrees and no snow or rain. We’re hosting our families and a captain who, even if you served burned wieners and beans, would say he never tasted better. Besides, the ginger snaps you baked yesterday are the best you’ve ever made.”

  “You ate one?”

  “Two, but there are plenty left. I would have snitched a piece of pie, but I didn’t want to incur your wrath. Remember, this is supposed to be fun.”

  A weary smile crossed her face. “You’re right.”

  “Most of the time,” he added.

  Shaking her head, she said, “Please go get dressed.” She wished he were more mobile and more able to assist her. “I don’t want to be strapping on legs at the last minute.”

  “I’ve mastered those wooden legs.” He slid into his wheelchair. “You’re only needed if there’s an alignment problem.”

  She raced up the stairs the moment his bedroom door closed. She adorned her taupe dress with a navy voile vest—a pattern from last month’s Companion. Braiding her hair, she fastened it in a bun, leaving ringlets to frame her face. Deep breaths, she told herself, while fanning her face with her fingers.

  A tapping noise sounded from the bottom of the stairs.

  She peeked from her bedroom door and descended the steps.

  Geoff stood on the lower landing, looking tall, handsome and regal.

  “New dress?” he asked.

  “New vest.” She gripped the handrail to steady her wobbly ankles. “The color’s not too bold, is it?”

  “Turn around.” He gestured with his hand.

  She obliged, turning slowly on the bottom step.

  “Works for me. It has a nice hand rest in the back.”

  “That’s an embellishment, not a handrail. You’ve been walking fine the last couple of weeks.”

  He grinned as if her praise was a freshly baked ginger snap.

  Time dragged. She paced from the front bay window to the kitchen. Why couldn’t the guest list include only her mother and Ann?

  When Geoff announced the ship’s arrival in the inlet, she dried her palms on a dish rag. She practiced a hostess smile and hoped guests didn’t notice the quiver in her lips.

  Together, she and Geoff stood on the porch and watched Tubby dock the Maiden.

  “Who’s that man with my father?” Geoff asked. His head bobbed as he tried to get a better view of the visitor.

  She squinted, straining to make out the gentleman’s face. “It’s Marty Hill. Your manager.”

  Geoff swore. His jaw tightened. “Bet he wishes my body disintegrated on the banks of the Marne.”

  “Surely not.” Her sister thought Marty was marriage material. Marty was hospitable enough at the mine.

  “Who invited him?” Geoff emphasized the last word as if Marty came with a case of diphtheria.

  This was not the time to mention her sister’s engagement. Ann might have invited Marty. She hoped it had been Mr. Chambers or Tubby. She shrugged and said, “I don’t know.”

  Geoff’s walking stick berated the porch. Thamp. Thamp. Thamp.

  “Guess we should move out.” His hand rested on her shoulder as he shadowed her body to the dock.

  The first one off the Maiden was Bradley. The boy jumped ship before it was secured. Bradley bounded up the length of the dock, making a beeline for his brother.

  Her vest tightened mid-back.

  “Don’t let me go down,” Geoff whispered.

  Immediately, she flung open her arms as if expecting an embrace. “Bradley,” she called as if they had been lifelong friends. A leather case bounced off the boy’s hip. “What did you bring us?”

  Bradley stopped short of bowling over his brother. He opened the case and displayed a camera.

  “Mother bought me a Kodak autographic in San Francisco.” His fingers unlatched and expanded the camera like an expert. “I’m going to take pictures of everyone at the lodge.”

  One disaster averted.

  Geoff let go of her vest and lauded Bradley’s gift.

  “Wonderful,” she said.

  “Bradley, put that camera away ’til later,” Mr. Chambers called from the gangplank. The elder Chambers carefully escorted his wife down each step. Julia Chambers’s gloved hand bobbed elegantly in the air as she balanced on her husband’s arm.

  Josephine studied the plum-colored satin dress emerging from the hem of Mrs. Chambers’s coat. Deep purple cloth was expensive, and Josephine had never created a dress in such a rare color. Mrs. Chambers must have found another seamstress.

  Josephine shook the sadness from her heart. Mrs. Chambers had no reason to wait for summer to purchase a new gown.

  Geoff planted his stick in the ground a few feet from the dock.

  Bradley grabbed hold of the stick, imitating his big brother. Josephine wished she had her own camera to capture the two brothers, side by side.

  “I can’t believe she came,” Geoff breathed into her ear.

  “We have a few surprise guests.” She looked up and met Geoff’s gaze. “Should be an interesting afternoon.”

  “What have you done to my son?” Mr. Chambers said. He inspected Geoff from the black shoes to the hat-brimmed
head. “I didn’t expect you to be walking. Tall and…” Mr. Chambers’s lips pressed together. His eyes glistened as he ruffled Bradley’s hair.

  “Handsome.” Julia finished her husband’s sentence. She leaned forward to kiss Geoff’s cheek, catching more air than skin. The scent of blooming lilies filled the air. “And Josephine,” she added, turning her attention from Geoff, “You’ve outdone yourself. That vest is exquisite. You must design me one when you’re back in town.”

  “I’d ask for one, but she insists I wear pinstripes,” Geoff joked. The laughter calmed Josephine’s nerves.

  Marty and Ann sauntered toward the gathering. Geoff released his hold on Josephine’s back and shook his father’s hand.

  Mr. Chambers cleared his throat. “Miss Josephine, you’ve met Mr. Hill, our manager.”

  “She’s actually driven with him and survived,” Ann remarked. Laughter erupted again.

  “Don’t tell stories, dear.” Marty gave Ann’s arm a quick caress.

  From the corner of her eye, she noticed Geoff look her direction. She did not acknowledge him. Ann had sworn her to secrecy. Geoff would have to figure Ann and Marty’s relationship out on his own. By the end of the afternoon, Marty would have to fess up. Ann would have to fess up. Or she would slip her mother some of Geoff’s “medicinal party wine,” and her mother would fess up.

  Her mother waddled up the dock, clinging to Tubby’s sturdy arm.

  “Excuse me.” Josephine hurried to help Tubby with her mother. A swell of emotion made every breath a struggle.

  Her mother tried to hasten her gait. Her upper-half was willing, but her arthritic toes rebelled.

  “Where is my baby,” her mother gasped. “Josephine Primrose, you are a salve for my heart.”

  Josephine embraced her mother. “I’m happy you’re here. I have missed our talks.”

  Her mother’s eyes brightened. “The lodge is bigger than I imagined, and Master Chambers does seem healthy.”

  “Geoff Chambers gets around very well when he puts his mind to it.” Josephine sneaked another hug.

  By the time she, Tubby, and her mother reached the porch, Geoff and the other guests were milling around the living room. She rushed inside to take coats and hats and arrange another place setting at the table. Two crewmen carrying a large vertical crate bumped open the door.