Chapter 22
As the station clock struck midnight, the hulking engine pulled up like an enormous black dragon and, with an exhausted shudder, expelled a cloud of steam, enveloping the platform in mist. I felt like a character in a fairy tale, joyful but slightly befuddled. Even with the pressure of Paul’s hand supporting me as I climbed into the passenger coach and the sound of the conductor’s cheery welcome, I kept thinking it was all too wonderful to be real, but when I looked out the window of the compartment, Mama and Ruby were there, beaming and mouthing, “Good-bye Mrs. Van Dyver!” as they tapped on the window, as though to remind me of my new name. It was all true.
Our beautiful wedding had been performed a short two hours before. Paul asked a fellow minister from Liberal, the kindly Reverend Doctor Horton, to marry us in the tiny chapel of his church. Dr. Horton’s twinkling eyes and ready smile reminded me of Papa. When he wrapped Paul’s and my right hand in the silken bonds of his clerical stole and declared that “those whom God has joined, let no man put asunder,” I couldn’t help but feel that Papa himself was present and giving us his blessing.
Though the ceremony included only the four of us, with Mama and Ruby as witnesses, Paul had insisted that we “do it properly.” He put aside his clerical collar for the occasion, looking more handsome than ever in a new charcoal gray suit, a shirt with a soft collar, and a blue silk necktie. I carried a bouquet of purple lilacs and white roses and wore a new white traveling suit. Mama had made it herself, though Ruby and I helped with the cutting and sewing of the trim because Mama’s arthritis was bothering her. Ruby thought we should sew a veil onto the hat, but I wasn’t so sure.
Mama was on my side. “Nonsense,” she said. “Eva doesn’t need to hide behind any veil.” She put aside the skirt she was hemming, took my hand in hers, and said, “You look him in the eye when you’re saying those vows, Eva. Let him see you just as you are. It’s the only honest way to begin.”
Dr. Horton had kindly left out the huge sprays of flowers that had been used for a big wedding that had taken place earlier that day and had thought to bring all the candelabras out of storage for the occasion. The chapel glowed with the light from dozens of white pillared candles. Mrs. Horton played the wedding march on the organ as Paul and I walked up the aisle together, and I leaned on him lightly for support, my cane made unnecessary in his presence. Even Jolene Bergen could not have dreamed of a wedding half so elegant as ours.
We knelt down together, and the benevolent old minister breathed his blessing over our union while Ruby and Mama sniffed back tears. We recited our vows: love ... honor ... cherish ... forever ... with eyes locked, promising ourselves to each another with no reservations. When I looked into Paul’s eyes I saw what I had seen there from the first moment I’d met him, honesty, and I knew I could trust that every vow he made to me was true and would last. I felt the same about my vows to him. It could not have been more perfect.
Now we were traveling all the way to California, where Morgan would be waiting for us, on leave for the first time in nearly two years. The Pacific was so far away to begin with, we didn’t want to waste more of Morgan’s precious leave time in traveling to Oklahoma, so San Diego seemed the perfect meeting place. On top of that, it was a marvelous excuse to take a honeymoon trip. As we boarded the train, I wasn’t sure which pleased me more, being Paul’s wife or seeing my son. Then it occurred to me there was no need to choose between the two, and I laughed with pleasure.
I was so busy waving to Mama and Ruby that I didn’t notice the compartment until we were well out of the station. It was beautiful, all polished wood and chrome trim, with a paneled closet to store our clothes, two soft, upholstered seats facing each other across a tiny table, and a not quite double bed built right into the wall. “It’s lovely! “ I exclaimed. “Can we afford it?”
“On a minister’s salary? Of course not,” Paul said in mock seriousness as he came up behind me, wrapping his arms around my waist, and kissed my neck playfully. “I don’t care what it cost. All that matters is that you are happy. I’ve waited too long to allow for any interruptions. I don’t intend to let you leave this room or this bed for the entire trip.”
I turned toward him, placed one hand on his chest and loosened his tie with the other. “Not even for meals?” I asked coyly.
“I don’t know,” he breathed, reaching over to turn off the light. “Let’s decide when we get hungry.”
But we weren’t hungry for a long, long time. In some sense, I’ve never been hungry again. That night I discovered that Paul’s touch, so gentle, so adoring and unhurried, filled all the empty caverns of my soul and made me want to do the same for him. When morning came, my heart stirred at the sight of his head sleeping peacefully on the pillow next to mine, and I wanted him again, even more than before, but I didn’t wake him. There was no hurry. I knew he would be there that day and the next and the next; we had our entire lives to love one another. We could count on it, like the earth under our feet.
Morgan’s sparkling eyes and ready grin were the same, but the thin, lanky frame of his boyhood had been layered over with muscles, topped with broad, powerful shoulders—he had the body of a soldier. Handsome and confident in his dress uniform, he scooped me off the station platform and squeezed me tight. We were neither of us too proud to cry a little.
My eyes were still full as I held him at arm’s length for a better look. “When did you get so good-looking, Morgan? Were you always this tall?” I covered my mouth with my hand and took in a deep breath to stop myself from crying again. “I can’t believe you’re actually here. I didn’t think I’d see you for another six months at least!”
“I know! We were lucky. Your letter came at a good time. I’ve been assigned to a new unit, the 475th fighter group, but it won’t be activated for a few days yet. I convinced the C.O. it was better to let me take my leave now when there’s nothing going on.” He flashed that genuine, winning smile of his, so like Papa’s, and it made me think that even battle-hardened commanders might not be immune to Irish charm. “The bad news is, I’ve got to leave to report to my new group in Australia in three days. I’m sorry there’s not more time.”
“Oh, never mind about that.” I squeezed him again, to make sure he was real. “It’s just so good to be together.” I rested my hand on my son’s muscled forearm at the same time as I reached for my husband’s hand, pulling us into a circle. “We’re going to have the best honeymoon in the world! Just the three of us,” I said. We all laughed.
“Australia!” Paul shook his head in amazement. “That’s half a world away.”
“Oh, that’s just where we’re training.” There was a little edge of pride in Morgan’s voice. “Once we’re ready we’ll get a base in the islands, probably New Guinea. The Allies just got it back, and Uncle Sam wants to make sure we keep it.” The determined look on Morgan’s face convinced me they would.
I tried to calculate the distance in my mind but couldn’t. Like Paul said, half a world away. Beating back the Japanese. Tiny planes tossed out like so much confetti over an infinite and unforgiving ocean.
The conversation lagged for a moment, but Morgan leaped in to lighten the mood before the atmosphere became too chill. “I almost forgot!” he exclaimed, grabbing Paul’s hand and priming it like a pump handle. “Congratulations! When I got the telegram that you two wanted to get married, I let out such a whoop other guys heard me all the way in the mess hall! I think it’s great, Paul, I really do. You and Mama are meant to be together. I’ve thought so for a long time.”
Paul smiled and murmured his thanks. It was so wonderful to see the two men I loved getting on so well, I wasn’t even bothered that they were talking about me as though I weren’t there.
“I’d just about given up hope of her ever giving me the time of day,” Paul said.
“Well, she’s stubborn.” Morgan nodded understandingly. “Always was. Won’t budge an inch until she’s made up her mind, yes or no, but once she knows what she wants nobody better get in her way.”
“I’ve noticed that,” Paul said slyly. “For years she held me at bay, and then, boom! Out of the blue she shows up and proposes marriage. Well, what could I do?” He held his palms out helplessly. “Imagine how embarrassing it would have been for her if I’d refused.” He blinked innocently, as if the whole thing had been beyond his control. “So, here I am, the noose tied round my neck good and tight.”
I slapped Paul playfully on the arm. “That’s enough of that.”
“Ouch! You see how she treats me?” Paul rolled his eyes toward Morgan and winked. “Admit it, Eva. You proposed to me.”
“Don’t be ridiculous. I have no recollection of any such unladylike event,” I lied.
Morgan laughed and looped his arm through mine, picking up our suitcase easily with the other. “Come on, you two, we can continue this argument in the taxi.”
Paul took my other arm, and we walked off together, my heart full of the complete picture we made. People walking past would think we were a family. Maybe we were.
Three days flew like an hour. We were so anxious to take advantage of every minute together that we barely slept. We spent a whole day at the zoo. I’d seen pictures of some of the animals in books, of course, but no encyclopedic reference could make you understand the sheer size of an elephant or just how elegant the arc of a giraffe’s neck really is. There was a feeling of breathtaking intimacy in watching those beautiful animals just being themselves, like peeking through the window of a stranger’s house. I felt a little guilty looking in on their private world, yet I couldn’t tear myself away. If a zookeeper hadn’t come up and tapped me on the shoulder to remind me it was five minutes till closing, I suppose I never would have left.
The zoo was my favorite, but we also went to the amusement park at Belmont Park, a museum, and took a ferry to Coronado. We had tea in the Hotel Del Coronado, which was so beautiful! I just had to buy a picture postcard to send Mama and Ruby. We went swimming in the ocean, and that was wonderful, too, though I’ll admit to being a little scared. I never imagined the pull of the tide could be so powerful. Even after Morgan walked us by the base to impress us with the size of the ships that were in port, it frightened me to think of him sailing to Australia on the vast, uncontrollable sea, but I kept my fears to myself. When I had looked at San Diego on a map, I’d thought that we’d be just a hop, skip, and jump away from Hollywood. Morgan explained it would take hours and hours to get there by bus, so I never did get to see the handprints at Grauman’s Chinese Theatre, but that was all right. I did see a woman crossing the street who looked exactly like Claudette Colbert! Of course, it was hard to know for sure from so far away, but I didn’t want to get so close that we’d know if it wasn’t. Why risk ruining a good story? Papa would have agreed with me.
It was a wonderful trip. I’m convinced that no tourist in California saw more than we did in those three days—but more than anything else, we just enjoyed being together. And how we talked! Walking down the street, riding a bus, through mouths full of hamburgers in diners, shopping for souvenirs, we talked without taking a breath. Morgan wanted to know everything about Mama and Ruby and Dillon. Funny, I had always thought of our lives there as being so dull and predictable that there were no stories to tell, but it wasn’t true. We were as small and insignificant as any village on earth, but when I thought about it, there were little dramas unfolding every day in Dillon. Of course, if you weren’t from Dillon none of it mattered, but Morgan was hungry for stories from home. He had a million questions. How was Mr. Dwyer’s gout? How many bushels to the acre had there been last year? What had everyone said when Tommy Franks rescued his little brother Joey from drowning in an irrigation ditch? We laughed and talked and laughed some more, trying to crowd a year’s worth of conversation into a few precious hours. Three days flew by like three minutes.
The last night before Morgan had to report for duty, we didn’t get back to our hotel room until after midnight. The hot water ran out during my shower. I was cold and tired and dreading saying good-bye to Morgan in the morning. Paul and I had our first argument.
Paul was already in bed when I came out of the bathroom. “Do you want to get up with me at five and say good-bye to Morgan?” I asked.
“No, the two of you need some time alone. He’s been good to include me, but I’m sure there are things you have to say to each other that will be easier if I’m not there.”
“Nothing that you couldn’t listen in on, I’m sure, but I wouldn’t blame you for staying in a warm bed at that hour.” I shivered as I did up the last buttons on my nightgown. “It’s freezing in here! I thought California was supposed to be warm,” I grumbled.
“It is. It’s just the water that’s cold.” He pulled back the covers and made a space for me next to him. “Get in here. It’s warm under the blankets.”
He wrapped his arms around me, and soon my teeth stopped chattering. Paul yawned, and I echoed him. “Fine pair of newlyweds we are,” he said, groaning with exhaustion and rubbing his eyes. “Less than a week after the wedding and so exhausted all we can do is yawn.”
“Hmmm,” I muttered with my eyes closed. “Most newlyweds are a lot younger than we are, my love. Also, they don’t spend their honeymoon trying to see every sight in the state of California and then sitting in a diner and talking to their son until it’s so late the waitress tells them they have to leave so she can close up.”
“That’s true,” Paul said.
His voice sounded a little troubled, and I opened my eyes and studied his face.
“You don’t mind Morgan being here, do you? I never really asked if this was the way you wanted to spend our trip. Maybe you’d have preferred having just the two of us?”
Paul dismissed that idea with a shake of his head. “Of course not. We’ve got a lifetime to be alone together.”
“Oh, right,” I said sarcastically. “Just you and me and Mama and Ruby.” I couldn’t help but chuckle at my own joke, and Paul joined in.
“And don’t forget the entire congregation of the church,” he said. “They’re always watching us one way or the other.”
“Oh, well, that’s just Dillon. Everybody watches everybody; everybody talks about everybody. It’s our main form of recreation.”
Paul smiled and tried to stifle another yawn. “You and Morgan certainly did some talking these last three days. I never knew my wife was so well informed about local gossip.”
I snuggled closer in his embrace. The word “wife” still sounded new and wonderful in my ears. “Having Ruby as a best friend helps,” I mumbled sleepily. I kissed him good night, rolled over, and spooned myself into the warmth of his chest as I closed my eyes Everything was quiet. In another minute I’d have been dreaming, but Paul wasn’t ready to sleep.
“Do you and Morgan ever talk about him?” he said quietly but pointedly. There was no doubt in my mind that the “him” in question was Charles Lindbergh.
I was suddenly wide awake and shifted slightly to the colder side of the bed, my back still turned to Paul. “When he was younger, I always said I would when he was older. Now he is older, I don’t see any point to it.”
“Don’t you think Morgan would like to know?”
“He’s never asked me about it.” I tried to answer casually, but even I could hear the edge in my voice.
“Of course he’s never asked, Eva,” Paul said. “You’re all he’s got. He’d never risk hurting you by asking you about painful things, things that might embarrass you to talk about, but that doesn’t mean he doesn’t want to know.”
“What is there about Charles Lindbergh that’s worth knowing? You’ve said it yourself: the man’s a coward and an anti-Semite.” I rolled over to face him, daring him to deny my accusation.
Paul sat up. “Eva, there are a lot of things I don’t like about the man, but I’m not blind to his accomplishments. Morgan is a lot like him, adventurous, brave, optimistic, and more at home in the air than on the earth. All those wonderful qualities are the legacy his father has left him. I think he deserves to know it.” I didn’t answer, just stared stonily, but Paul refused to be intimidated by silence.
“I swear, sometimes I don’t understand you, Eva,” he said, shaking his head. “You kept Lindbergh on a pedestal for years, building him up into something that no one could ever be, hoping that one day, finally, he’d glide into town and claim his son and you. Then, just like that, the adoration is over! You take out your sledgehammer and smash your creation into a million pieces and grind the shards into the dirt.”
“Don’t you dare lecture me about Charles Lindbergh!” I said. “I was just about the only person on earth who didn’t idolize him. Everyone wanted to make him into the Lone Eagle, some mythic creature. I accepted him for what he was, or at least for what I thought he was. Now I see how lucky we were that he left Morgan alone. I’m just protecting my son. He’s been through enough already.” I lay down and pulled the covers up to my chin, signaling that the subject was closed.
Paul scooted across the bed and settled in next to me, pushing himself up on one elbow. His voice was infuriatingly reasonable but firm. I could see he had no intention of minding his own business. “This isn’t about protecting Morgan, Eva. You’re furious with Lindbergh, and not even because he abandoned you and Morgan. That at least would make some sense. You’re angry because you thought you knew him and you were wrong. You were willing to give him everything in exchange for the honor of being the one person who truly understood him because you thought that meant he loved you. Now you know the truth; the man is an enigma to you, to everyone, and he doesn’t love you. Possibly he never did, but that doesn’t make him a monster.” The hard line of his mouth softened, and he reached out to pull me closer. “No matter what he is or isn’t to you, he’s still Morgan’s father.”
I rolled away and sat up on the edge of the bed with my back to him. “Paul, I don’t want to talk about this anymore.”
“Well, I do.” He pushed off the blanket, strode around the bed, and knelt down in front of me, making it impossible to avoid his eyes. “Eva, I won’t let you shut me out. When you love someone you share the truth, even the painful parts. You’ve made it very clear to Morgan where the forbidden zones are. Soon he’ll start building up walls of his own to go with the ones he’s inherited from you and from Lindbergh. Give him a little time and he’ll have constructed such a fortress of secrets that no one will be able to get close. Is that what you want for him?”
I tried to pull away again, but Paul held me fast. There was no getting away from those deep, piercing eyes, and the absence of cover filled me with panic. “This doesn’t concern you, Paul!” I cried. “What I tell or don’t tell my son about his father is between us. It’s a family matter, so just stay out of it!” The ugly words spilled out of my mouth unbidden. Paul’s face fell, clearly stung by my attack. His mouth twitched, and for a moment I could see him struggling within himself, fighting off the bitterness and resentment; he won that battle. Without saying a word, he got to his feet, pulled me to mine, and held me in his embrace, tight and close, as though he would never let go.
Anger, punishing silence, even a slammed door would have been easy for me to handle. I could have summoned a controlled response to any of those reactions. Paul’s tender retort caught me completely off guard. I felt helpless in the face of his unyielding love. I sobbed in his arms.
We stood that way, wrapped up in each other for the longest time, until finally my tears were spent and I leaned against him, more in love with this man than ever. He kissed me gently and wiped away the last traces of my tears.
“We are family now, Eva,” he said softly. “We both hold the keys to all the doors in our lives; there are no locks between us. I love you, Eva. That won’t change no matter what you say to me or to Morgan, but I think you owe him the truth. That’s my opinion. You can do with it what you will.”
I lifted my hand to his face, pulling it toward mine, finding his lips, pulling him back down onto the bed. As he eagerly followed my lead, I opened myself to him with no restraint, no boundaries, each of us at once yielding and demanding, one flesh forever.
I knew him ... and he me.
Later, exhausted but unable to sleep, I laid awake for what was left of the night, puzzling over what I would say to Morgan but reaching no conclusion. The night sky began fading from black to misty gray. Taking care not to waken him, I lifted Paul’s arm from where it rested on my hip, slid silently from the warmth of the bed, dressed in darkness, and left to meet Morgan in the coffee shop.
Morgan had gotten there first. He waved to me from a booth upholstered in a candy-apple red that gleamed artificially bright and cheerful in the dull dawn light. Morgan’s wide, fixed grin told me he was determined to ignore the specter of farewell that stood just outside the door. We ordered breakfast, though when the waitress put the food in front of me I could do little more than pick at the scrambled eggs and push the potatoes from one side of the plate to the other.
We talked about Mama and her birthday picnic at the lake. I told Morgan how Mr. Cheevers had pressed the extra gallons of gas on me, taking care to paint a picture of that kind man that was more amusing than poignant. Morgan said again what a great guy Paul was. I smiled and agreed, but then the conversation lagged. Our silence was tight and uncomfortable, and I could see Paul was right. There were too many things unsaid between us. It was time for Morgan and me to quit protecting each other. I took a deep breath and resolved to tell him everything—but Morgan cleared his throat before I could speak.
“Mama, have you seen Virginia Pratt lately?” He dunked a donut in his coffee with a deliberately casual air.
“Why, no,” I answered. “Not recently. I guess she’s about ready to graduate, isn’t she?”
“Yeah. Next month. She made salutatorian. Oh, damn it!” A soggy crumb from the coffee-soaked donut dropped on his shirt as he took a bite.
“Don’t curse,” I said automatically in my “mother” voice, handing him a napkin to blot the stain. Morgan grinned.
“Still trying to turn me into a gentleman, Mama?” He dabbed at the spot, but it wasn’t helping.
“No. Trying to remind you that you already are a gentleman. Here. Give me that.” I took the napkin from him, dipped it in my water glass, and gave it back. “See if that works any better.” It did. “How do you know so much about Virginia Pratt?”
“She writes me sometimes,” he said as he returned his attention to the coffee stain.
“You write back?”
“Sometimes.” He shrugged.
This news surprised me, though it shouldn’t have. Every mother of an adoring little boy knows there will come a day when she is no longer the most important female in her son’s world, but when the moment actually arrives it’s a shock. I couldn’t help but wonder where the time had gone.
Today was not the day, I realized, to talk about the past, to tell him where he’d gotten those deep gray-blue eyes, so different from mine. Morgan was grown up and living his life, living it in uncertain times. He didn’t care about yesterday. His mind was set on today and tomorrow and another pair of eyes, hazel, I remembered, and sparkling with curiosity, placed evenly in a heart-shaped face that bore a delicate pink-and-white complexion, translucent as fine china with the sun shining through it, framed with long red curls. Virginia Pratt. I didn’t know her well, but I recalled her as a quiet girl who read a lot—shy, but not painfully so. She’d liked to hide behind her mother’s skirts when she was little but would come out and greet adults with a solemn handshake when prompted. A pretty girl. That was the picture imprinted on Morgan’s mind. That was the way it should be. Mr. Cheevers would agree, I was certain. I decided then that, no matter what Paul said, today was not the day to tell my son about his real father. Someday, I silently promised myself, when the war was over and Morgan was home for good, there would be no secrets between us. He would know everything. In the meantime all he needed to know was the face of a pretty girl and that I supported his choice.
“She’s seems like a sweet girl,” I said approvingly. “Must be smart to stand second in the class. Always had real nice manners, I remember.” Morgan nodded in agreement and continued blotting the spot that had already completely disappeared. I cleared my throat uncertainly. “Anything you want to tell me?” I asked.
He put down the napkin, took another long drink of coffee, and shook his head. “Not right now. We’ve talked about ... you know ... things,” he admitted as a blush of color rose in his cheeks. “She’s always wanted to be a teacher. It’d be a shame if she didn’t go to college while she has the chance. Besides, she’s young yet. It’d be selfish to ask her to wait. It’s a long war, and, well ...” His voice trailed off, and he brushed his hair out of his eyes. “I’m a pilot,” he said simply. “You know, the odds aren’t good for me, Mama.”
“I know,” I whispered. My hand rose unbidden to cover my mouth. “So many times I’ve thought I should have insisted you stay in college. Maybe I shouldn’t have let you learn to fly in the first place.”
“Mama, you couldn’t have stopped me. No one could have. It’s just part of me.” He leaned in toward me, and his eyes became brighter, as they always had when talking about flight. “When I joined up all I thought about was flying, just me and the plane and blue sky that doesn’t end. I never really thought about why I would be flying. Not that I didn’t understand that there was a war and that I would be in it, but I didn’t really know what war was. The newsreels clean it up and make it seem so simple and straight, but there’s no color in those pictures. There’s no spewing red of blood, or ravenous orange flame that eats tail sections alive, or blue-black ocean that sucks downed planes into the depths and hides them where they’ll never be found. A battle reported in black and white is just an outline of the real thing.”
“You’ve grown up fast, haven’t you?”
“Eighteen months are like ten years when there’s a war on,” he said matter-of-factly. “I thought I’d ship out, wrap a white scarf around my neck, shoot down a few zeros from far enough away so I couldn’t see the pilots’ faces, and win a medal or two. Maybe dance with some fast girls from the USO in my spare time.” He raised and lowered his eyebrows meaningfully, and we both chuckled, but then he suddenly became serious. “I never pictured myself being afraid.
“Mama, do you remember Mrs. Hutchinson from church?” Of course I remembered her. She’d been Mama’s fourth-grade Sunday school teacher before she’d been mine and Morgan’s in turn. She didn’t teach anymore, but she was still chair of the altar guild and exerted a lot of influence in the church; for that reason, she was one of the many people I was dreading facing when I returned to Dillon. I doubted she would approve of me as a pastor’s wife.
“Well,” he continued, “she wrote me a letter after I’d made first lieutenant congratulating me on my promotion and saying how everybody was so proud to have a real live war hero who’d come from Dillon.”
“Mrs. Hutchinson is right,” I replied. “Everybody in town is proud of you. You’re Dillon’s first pilot.”
Morgan shook his head emphatically, and I could see that he was truly bothered by the idea of people thinking he was something more than he was. “Mama, I’m no hero. I just love to fly, that’s all. When I climb into the cockpit and feel the engine hum it’s like feeling my own heart beating, and when I lift off from the runway and rise up toward the sun it’s like reaching out to touch the door to heaven. As soon as I look down and see the airfield fading off in the distance, I’m afraid, because I know there’s a good chance of me or one of my friends not making it back. With all my heart I want to turn back at that moment, but I keep the plane on course because I know I have to. Somebody has to.”
“Morgan!” I clucked my tongue in mock distress, careful to keep my tone light. “I think maybe I let you read too many books when you were little. That’s the only place where people aren’t afraid. Real people are scared every day. Some of them climb under a rock and hide, and others, the good ones, the ones like you”—I smiled—“stuff their fears into a sack and do what they have to do. That might not be too courageous, but it’s enough to get the job done, and it takes a lot of heart. So you just let Mrs. Hutchinson send her letters, all right?” Morgan nodded mutely.
“Besides,” I joked. “Remember, she’s head of the altar guild, and if she didn’t spend some of her time writing to GIs she’d probably decide it was time to embroider new altar cloths and start nagging at me to help.” I shuddered theatrically at the idea, and we both laughed.
It was getting late. Morgan glanced at his watch, but we already knew he had to go. There was so much more I wanted to say. Instead I smiled and reached across the table to take his hand. “Morgan, how do you suppose that out of the whole world, I got the best young man on the planet as my son?”
He sat a little taller in his seat and impulsively pulled my hand to his lips and gave it a smacking kiss. “I’m glad you came, Mama.”
“Nothing in the world could have kept me from it.”
Standing outside the door of the coffee shop, unembarrassed by the waitress’ obvious and teary-eyed interest in the farewell of a mother and a soldier-son, we hugged and held each other as long as we could. I watched until Morgan turned the corner toward the bus stop that would take him back to the base, then walked quickly in the opposite direction toward the motel, head down, my heels clicking evenly against the sidewalk while I dug in my coat pocket for my handkerchief.
Paul was shaved and dressed when I got back to the room. He was already packing our suitcases. “You don’t mind, do you?” he asked. “I thought this way we’d have time for a last walk on the beach before we have to leave for the station. Who knows when we’ll get another chance.”
Something in that sentence seemed to sum up all the uncertainties of the world. My lip trembled, and Paul dropped the shirt he was folding onto the bed to reach for me, crossing the room in three big steps of his long legs. Grateful for his arms around me, I held back the tears. If Morgan could be brave, so could I.
“I miss him so much already, even worse than before. When he left the last time he was so young, so innocent and confident, almost magical in a way, like nothing bad could ever happen to him. Now, I don’t know.” I dabbed at my eyes with the handkerchief I held clutched in my hand; it was already quite damp. “He’s grown, and he’s afraid. It’s like he’s suddenly become aware of his own mortality and just the knowledge makes him vulnerable. If anything happened to him, what would I do?”
Paul held me tighter and rubbed his hands up and down my back as though trying to warm me after I’d come in out of the cold. “He’s going to be fine,” he said soothingly, and I could feel the deep bass of his voice rumbling confidently from his chest. “You were right the first time. Nothing will touch him.”
“What makes you think so?”
“Because I believe in God and happy endings. Besides he’s an eagle’s offspring, at home in the sky. Surely that’s a lucky talisman for a pilot.”
I couldn’t help but smile a little. “Are you a pastor or a pagan? Lucky talismans? What kind of creed do you subscribe to?”
“The kind that embraces hope in all its forms and trusts God for all grace,” he said sincerely. “How else are we to go on?”
Later, as we walked on the beach, Paul spotted the silhouette of a destroyer slipping silently toward the open sea. It was probably too early in the day to be Morgan’s transport; there was no way to know for certain. Standing ankle-deep in a temperate surf, Paul and I held hands and prayed for the safe and rapid return of every mother’s son aboard the nameless vessel while the tide teased and swirled gently around our feet with a playfulness that seemed to mock my apprehension. For that moment at least, I felt at peace.