Chapter Twenty-Five

DECEMBER 1944

It had been a busy and exhausting weekend for Joe. He was ready to go back to the base, to get to work on things less emotional than the birth of a baby, loved more than life by the mother, rejected by grandparents who couldn’t see beyond their noses. He was only sorry he hadn’t been able to hold baby Violet again. He’d liked doing that; it made him feel strong and brave and humble all at once.

But he’d secured new digs for Ivy and the baby. He’d spent all of Sunday morning going from boardinghouse to boardinghouse, asking for a place for them, assuring landladies and proprietors that he’d send the weekly rent, a month in advance, until Ivy could find a job. But he didn’t want any trouble for Ivy, so he told them straight up that she was bringing home a brown baby, that she was married to a fine man, but the soldier had been shipped back to the States.

He’d hoped the long lease and the guarantee of pay and his US Army uniform would help, and they did, until he stated that the baby was the child of a colored American serviceman. Most said their other tenants wouldn’t have it, it would be too hard for business, or they were sorry, they’d momentarily forgotten that they’d already promised the room to someone else.

It wasn’t until the fifth establishment that Joe struck gold. The older landlady had only two rooms to rent. One was already taken by a young lady who worked in a secretarial pool downtown. The other was available if he paid right away, and she didn’t seem to mind, or said she didn’t mind, that there was a brown baby, “as long as the mother doesn’t flout it among my neighbors. They’ll see, soon enough, but I’ve a gated back garden where the baby can sun and play. I wouldn’t mind having a little one about. I miss mine —long grown, of course.”

It seemed the perfect setup. If Ivy was lucky, maybe she could pay the woman to watch Violet when she was up to getting a job.

He didn’t have time to see Ivy and Violet again —he’d have missed his train and couldn’t afford to be declared AWOL —but he’d left a note for her at the hospital desk. Nurse Clemmons had walked on duty then and promised she’d deliver it. Joe believed her. She seemed on the up-and-up, and sympathetic, or at least intrigued.

By the time Joe returned to his barracks, he was spent and hoped he wasn’t facing a relapse of the influenza.

Joe hadn’t been able to get another weekend pass to see Ivy and baby Violet, but he exchanged letters with Ivy. Both were doing well, recovering from Violet’s birth. A week after delivery Ivy had moved into her new room, and if the letters were honest, she and baby were settling in.

It seemed the landlady was not quite as grandmotherly as she’d given Joe to believe, once Violet kept the whole house up at night. He guessed a squalling baby could do that. “False advertising” is what he’d call it —innocent little baby sound asleep against your chest one minute, awake and screaming for hours the next. He’d liked holding the baby but was just as glad to be stationed far away.

Three weeks into the new year Joe answered mail call, figuring it would be from Ivy, but it wasn’t.

Dear Joe,

It’s really good to hear from you. No letters had come for so long I didn’t know what to think, especially after the reports we’d heard on the radio and read in the paper about the Normandy invasion. Thank God you’re okay, or that you’ll be okay.

Joe wondered if Celia’d still see him as okay when she saw his limp. He knew, from things she’d written before, that she loved to dance, foxtrot and jitterbug and even something called clogging, which Marshall had done his best to demonstrate and teach him. Joe had promised to teach Celia the Lindy Hop when they finally met. He didn’t figure he’d be much of a dancer now.

No, I haven’t heard a word from M, but his uncle, Olney Tate, said he’d received a letter and M is stationed back in the US. That’s all I know. Olney didn’t say where, didn’t seem to want to.

Whenever he returns to No Creek, we’ll be mighty glad to see him, have him back.

Olney said M’s discouraged and needs prayer, that things are tough for him now. He’s been trying to reach Ivy in England, but she doesn’t answer his letters. I finally told Olney and Doc Vishy about the wedding —probably should have told them sooner, but I didn’t want to worry them. They’re relieved he’s back in the country, even though they know there are going to be lots of complications. I’ll give Olney your address to send M. I know he’ll want to write you. Maybe you can help him find Ivy.

There’s something else I need to tell M, something I hope will make a difference for him, if we can prove it. I don’t think I should say more about that now, not till I know how things can play out.

I turned fifteen last month. Did you remember?

Fifteen. She’d turned fifteen in December and he hadn’t even remembered her birthday. What kind of friend was he?

Daddy’s recovered and doing so much better —back working at the shipyard over in Norfolk. Mama’s home again, and I’m glad she’s here. You never know how much you’ll miss family till you don’t have them.

Joe swallowed hard, setting down the letter. Truer words were never spoken.

Right away Joe wrote Ivy all he’d learned about Marshall. She’d be over-the-moon happy to know he was okay, that he’d been trying to reach her. Maybe Ivy was right —maybe her parents had destroyed Marshall’s letters. That would fit with what Celia’d said.

After meeting them, Joe wouldn’t put it past either parent.

He wrote Celia, asking her to give Ivy’s new address to Marshall’s uncle to forward to Marshall. He’d let Ivy tell Marshall about baby Violet, as it should be.

The war was turning in the Allies’ favor, despite Germany’s nasty V-2s to the south of England in retaliation for D-Day. It was those unforeseen “gifts” that worried Joe for Ivy and Violet. No way to know if they’d come again, despite German guns being taken out across the Channel.

He wished there was a way to send the two of them on to America. Joe knew it wasn’t safe to travel the Atlantic, what with German submarines still on the prowl. But their arrival would give Marshall the boost he needed for whatever was going on. Family was everything to Joe, and he knew that Ivy was everything to Marshall.

A week later Joe felt pretty hopeful when he was able to negotiate a two-day pass. He’d take the train to London and check on Ivy and Violet. The three of them could celebrate the news about Marshall together, maybe get dinner in a café. He’d like that and he believed Ivy would.

The night before his pass began, Joe went off duty late. There’d been more emergencies than usual at the hospital, and he’d been needed. Never glad to see injuries, Joe was glad to help, to stitch men up and get them on the road to healing —the thing he’d been trained to do, what he hoped to do for the rest of his life.

It was a surprise to find his letter to Ivy on his bunk, marked “Return to Sender.”

Joe turned the envelope over, as if he might see an explanation on the back. Makes no sense. Ivy’s there, with baby Violet. Without this letter she doesn’t even know that Marshall’s been trying to reach her. Lousy mail service!

Joe tucked the letter in his uniform pocket. He’d deliver the good news in person.