CHAPTER
thirty-two

Reed pulled into Ella’s driveway and found Daisy watering flowers in the backyard.

“Hey,” she said, shutting off the garden hose and dropping it at her feet.

“Hey,” he said with a smile as he walked toward her.

Daisy frowned. “I thought you were gonna be gone a lot longer.”

“Didn’t work out that way.”

“You wanna sit for a minute?” She led him to the swing in Ella’s backyard. “So did you meet any beauty queens at that resort?”

“I did.”

“Figured as much.”

“She asked me where I was stationed. When I told her North Africa, she wanted to know if I got to meet General MacArthur.”

“But he’s in the Pacific.”

“Thought about explainin’ that, but I don’t believe she was listenin’.”

“Bet you took her out anyway.”

“I was goin’ to . . . but she insisted on wearin’ her crown to dinner and I didn’t wanna get stared at.”

“Are you serious?”

“No.” Reed laughed. “Another vet did the honors.”

“You sorry about that?”

“I’m sorry I went down there. I’m real sorry about that.”

“How come?”

Reed rocked silently in the swing before he told her. “He killed himself, Daisy.”

“Who?”

“The vet who went after the beauty queen at the resort. A sailor. He sat down right next to me in the pool. Said he was puttin’ the war behind him and wanted to know if he could try his luck with her since I wasn’t goin’ to. I saw ’em laughin’ and talkin’ in the dinin’ hall. Saw ’em kissin’ in the moonlight. And the next mornin’ I had to fish his body out of the pool. That sailor went on a date with a pretty girl at Oleander Springs and then drowned himself in its healin’ waters. What you make o’ that, Daisy? What are we s’posed to make o’ that?”

“Pull back, pull back! Cover the medic!”

“No!” Reed woke himself up screaming it. He was wet with sweat and gasping for breath, his heart racing, his hands trembling. He could’ve sworn he heard footsteps outside, like someone running on the loop, but it had to be part of the nightmare.

The one saving grace was that the stillness of this summer night had driven him out onto his porch, putting two doors between his torment and the sweet couple who had given him refuge. He was miserably hot and longed to splash cold water on his face, but even that might wake Dolly and Si. He stepped outside, walked across the yard to the lake, and jumped into the shallow water.

The moon was high and full. He threw water onto his face, chest, and back, relishing the blessed coolness as his heart slowed its fitful beating and he could breathe again. He knew what had brought this on. That sailor’s suicide, for one thing. He couldn’t seem to shake it. And he never should’ve joined the others around Dolly’s radio, listening to reports from the front. It was a miracle any of the guys made it into France, let alone took it from the Germans who had dug in—just like they had dug in on that bloody hill.

Hill or village, victory or defeat, Reed believed the consequences for a soldier were the same: memories. Vicious, horrifying, haunting memories. Even when he wasn’t consciously wrestling with them, he always knew they were there, lurking in the shadows of his mind, waiting for the perfect moment to ambush his sanity. All those voices from the war, coming over the airwaves and into Dolly’s parlor, had awakened the slumbering specters that never really left him.

After climbing the steps out of the water, he stood on the porch and listened. Something about the skating rink seemed disturbed. That’s the only way he could describe it. Reed walked the length of the porch and stepped off the back, following the path toward the creek for a short distance. He stopped and took a deep breath. The smell was faint but unmistakable. Gasoline. And this time he knew he wasn’t dreaming. This time he wasn’t imagining a battlefield conjured by a radio broadcast.

A few more steps and his foot struck metal. It was a gas can, almost full, no doubt dropped by whoever fled when they heard him coming. He took one more look around the woods, then picked up the can and headed back to Dolly’s. Whoever intended mischief here was gone for now. But they’d be back. Trouble like that always came back.