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HARRY STRETCHED HIS sore muscles and breathed deeply. Early October meant cool, crisp mornings with mild, sunny, afternoons when the sun lit all the gold and red leaves on the hillsides and down the valley. He hadn’t realized how much he missed the change of seasons in Wisconsin and wondered if autumn in France was normally this beautiful. All he knew was what it looked like when he left. Burned and broken. The only golds and reds in the trees were from the flames of German artillery shells exploding.
They’d be home soon. He figured an hour, at most. They stopped along a riverbank to wash. Their time on the road left them both looking and feeling a little less than human. He’d gotten used to it on the Front, but this was different. There they were all the same—dirty and scared. Here, he was the monster. Nothing he did would return him to the old handsome Harry Barnes, but at least he would be clean. In time, people might learn to overlook his scars. Maybe.
Harry unwound the filthy, stained bandage, and removed the eye patch beneath. He stuffed the bandage deep to the bottom of his pack. He’d burn it later, along with his uniform and any other reminder of the war. It wouldn’t change anything, but it would feel good.
He stared at his reflection in the water. It wasn’t the first time he’d seen himself since before . . . That was how he thought of his life now, in terms of before and after. Part of his recovery was being forced to look closely at himself in a mirror. The first time, he threw the mirror against a wall, almost hitting the nurse who’d handed it to him. He screamed and cussed and cried, but she stayed with him until there was nothing left. No voice. No tears.
Now all he did was stare. The only emotion left was fear over what his family and friends would think. Most particularly, how Alice would react. He turned his head so only his good side was visible. Maybe if he always stood on her right side, so all she saw was the old Harry, the before Harry.
No, that would never work.
He used the last sliver of soap in his kit to wash his hands and face. The doctor had sewn shut his eyelid once Harry told him he didn’t want a glass eye, but there was still no mistaking the empty socket beneath. He put the patch back on, gave his reflection one last look, and shook his head.
Fin paused from gathering his belongings. “What’s wrong?”
“Nothing. Everything. Let’s go.” Harry threw his bag over his shoulder and walked to their horses happily chomping on the last of the wildflowers.
There was no way even someone as sweet and forgiving as Alice could ever love a face like his.
* * *
HARRY PUSHED HIS HORSE to go a little faster when the first glimpse of Pine Lake appeared through the trees. The cranky old nag shook her head. He swore she walked even slower out of sheer cussedness.
“My brother can run faster than you can walk, and he uses a cane.” He dug his heels into the nag’s side with little effect.
Ten days on a splintered wagon bench, almost two weeks more bouncing along bareback on a stubborn old horse, and his backside was numb. But he had never been happier to be home.
Muddy puddles from an early morning rain steamed in the mid-day sun. The town should have been busy with shoppers and gossipers. Old Mr. Benson wasn’t in his regular spot in front of the post office. Shop doors were closed up tight, lights off. Closed signs hung in every window. Even Dooley’s Tavern was quiet. They stopped and scanned the street for any sign of life.
Harry spoke first. “Where is everyone?”
Fin nodded toward a lone masked face watching from a parlor window. A large quarantine sign was nailed to the front door of the house next door. “Influenza.”
Pine Lake was like every other town they’d passed through. Cheerful songbirds out of place in the land of the dead and dying.
“Harry? Fin?” Doc Peterson appeared from around the side of the house where the masked face was only a moment before. “My God, it’s good to see you.”
Harry couldn’t miss the initial shock, perhaps even horror, on his face.
“You look tired, Doc.” Fin reached down.
Doc refused Fin’s offered hand. “Nothing personal.” He pulled two masks from his bag. “Wear these. Don’t know if it will help, but it certainly can’t hurt.”
Fin put his on and handed the other to Harry.
Harry stuffed it in his pocket. Between the mask and his eye patch, he might as well put a feedbag over his head.
“You’re healing nicely, Harry. No sign of infection. Does your scar pull much?”
“Some.” Harry wasn’t interested in discussing what was left of his face. “What’s going on here? Influenza?”
“Hit us hard last month.” Doc took his hat off and ran his fingers through his hair.
Fin leaned forward on his horse. “How are my parents? Lizzie?”
“They’re fine, so far.” He turned to Harry.” Your family, too. Your parents, your aunt, Jack, all well.”
Harry breathed a sigh of relief. “That’s good to hear, Doc.”
Fin waited a moment then asked the question. “And Alice?”
Harry ignored his friend’s stare.
“She’s improving a little every day. It was touch and go in the beginning, but Jack’s been taking real good care of her. She’s going to be one of the lucky ones.”
Did he say Jack? Harry knew his brother worked for the Armstrongs, his mother even said he had his own quarters there, but why did he stay with sickness in the house? Doc must have forced him to stay. Harry remembered the quarantine sign.
Doc sighed. “Wish I could say the same about her parents. Real sad. Both gone in less than a week. About did in the poor girl. Couldn’t even go to her own parents’ funeral. Too sick. Like I said, bad here. The Armstrongs were among the first. There will be more, a lot more, I fear.”
Silence hung heavy over the men. Again, Harry thought how out of place the birds were with their happy songs.
“I don’t suppose I can ask you two to pitch a tent and keep your distance for a while. Until we can be certain you didn’t bring anything with you.”
“Sorry, Doc.” Harry shook his head. “But I’ve had enough of this guy for a while. And I’ve had enough of living in tents to last a lifetime.”
“I figured as much. Wear the masks, even at home, and hopefully that will be enough. As for Lizzie and Alice, I must insist you keep your hellos and welcome homes through a closed window. Especially Alice.”
“Sure,” Harry mumbled. He’d also had enough of taking orders in the army. He was back to being his own man now and would do as he pleased.
“Of course,” Fin agreed.
Harry shook his head. Fin always was the rule follower. A man didn’t get ahead in the world by following the rules.
Doc sighed. “Well, I’d better get over to the Iversons. I hear the mayor’s sick now. Funny, but it was me and Martin who thought we could save Pine Lake from death. We thought face masks and isolation would do it. Guess God made other plans.”
Harry fought the urge to roll his eyes. “Guess so.” He’d decided back in France that God didn’t care one way or another about any of them. “Stay safe, Doc.”
“Don’t worry about me. Again, welcome home, boys.” He tipped his hat and continued down Main Street and around the corner leading to the Iversons’ house.
Fin didn’t waste any time. “Why didn’t you ask about Alice?”
“Didn’t get a chance.”
Fin stared at him through narrowed eyes. Harry knew the look well. It was the one Fin always used when he thought he was being lied to.
“Are you at least happy Doc says she’ll be okay?”
“Of course, I’m happy.”
“Could have fooled me. What’s wrong? You still love her, don’t you?”
Harry stared off at the horizon. “Question is, will she still love me?”
“You’re worried about nothing, friend. Nothing could make Alice stop loving you.”
“You really believe that, don’t you?”
Fin nodded. “I do. I’ve known Alice Armstrong too long to believe anything else. But love ain’t always enough. You gotta treat her right if you want to keep her.”
Harry wasn’t so certain even sweet, kind, Alice would be able to look at a face like his every day for the rest of her life and not grow resentful.
“Well, this is where I leave you, Harry. I’m anxious to see my girl. Through the window, of course. Then home to a hot bath and home-cooked meal.” He rode off with a final wave over his shoulder.
Harry waited. Fin opened the gate leading to Lizzie’s front walk. He barely put two feet on the front porch when he was met with a muffled squeal and a rush of skirts. Lizzie burst through the front door and into his arms.
Harry shook his head and laughed. “Through the window, right.”
Fin’s eyes met his. He shrugged and held Lizzie close. Fin lifted her off her feet and spun her around. Even with the mask, it was obvious his friend was grinning like a schoolboy.
“You’re a lucky man, Fred Finley.” Harry wished he and Alice could have such a reunion. Even if she wasn’t sick and quarantined, she wouldn’t want to kiss a monster.
He looked down the street to his parents’ gleaming white Victorian house and colorful flower gardens built high on a hill overlooking the town. There was room for Aunt Caroline to have a few chickens, a milk cow, and a vegetable garden. His father’s barn housed a half dozen first-class horses. His mother—well, all Margaret Barnes wanted was a big fine house for entertaining and proving her superiority to the other women in town. The house was quiet now, shades pulled. He had imagined coming home to his mother waiting for him on the porch. He would be safe from the bombs and screams plaguing his dreams every night. Instead, he was greeted with death here, too. Doc said Alice was improving, she’d be fine, one of the lucky ones. But he’d heard stories about people on the mend who suddenly died.
He snapped the reins. “To Alice’s.” His mother could wait a little longer.
* * *
HARRY TIED HIS HORSE to the fence beside the Armstrong barn. He wasn’t afraid the lazy thing would run off. On the contrary, it almost laid down when he got off. He walked up to the house and stopped when he saw the now familiar quarantine sign nailed to the front door. He looked through the closed parlor window.
Jack and Alice were sitting across from each other. Jack held her hands in his and leaned so close their knees touched. She was crying. Harry couldn’t hear what they were saying, but any level-headed person would assume Jack was comforting her over the loss of her parents. Harry told himself Jack would never do anything inappropriate with any woman. Yet, the sight of his own brother in such an intimate position with the woman who would be his wife infuriated him. Jack pushed the hair from Alice’s face, his hand lingering on her cheek. If it were anyone else, he would think they were about to kiss. Harry’s hands fisted at his side. He took a slow deep breath before knocking on the window.