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HARRY’S FEARS GREW the closer they got to home. Alice fainted when she saw his face. Would his mother, too? Or would she turn away from him entirely? He stepped down from the buggy and stood at the bottom of the front porch steps.
Her face crumpled. She rushed down the steps and pulled him into her arms, sobbing, “My poor baby. What have they done to you?” She held him at arm’s length. “Don’t you worry. We’ll get the best doctors. We’ll fix this.” She hugged him tight, again.
His father came to his rescue. “Margaret. For Pete’s sake, let the boy breathe.”
She cleared her throat, brushed the dust from his shoulders, and stepped back.
But not Aunt Caroline. She took his face in her hands and kissed both cheeks. “Welcome home, Harry. Now, your father said you went straight to see that young lady of yours. Tell us, how’s Alice doing? Sad thing about her parents. She’s going to need you more than ever now.”
“She’s on the mend. Not one hundred percent yet, but Doc says with rest she’ll make a full recovery.”
“Wonderful news. And Jack?”
“Tip top. He’s taking real good care of her for me.”
Maybe too good?
His mother clucked her tongue in disapproval. “Then you have no reason to go there.” It didn’t take her long to regain control of her emotions. Her tears were gone, replaced with a stiff spine and a stern glare. “I can’t believe you risked your life for that girl.”
“That girl is going to be my wife, Mother.”
“Yes, well, promise me you won’t go back there until after this dreadful quarantine is lifted.”
His father stepped in when he didn’t reply. “Promise your mother, Harry.”
Harry looked to Aunt Caroline to stand on his side.
“It’s probably for the best.” She nodded. “Alice has Jack taking care of her. She’ll rest and get strong again. By then this will all be over and we can plan the wedding.”
“I suppose you’re right,” he reluctantly agreed. “In the meantime, we’ll have to be satisfied with the telephone.”
“Afraid not.” His father shook his head. “I was talking to Doc this morning. Iris Anderson is down now, too. There’s no one to operate the switchboard until she either recovers or we find someone new.”
Aunt Caroline hooked her arm in his and led him up the porch steps. “It’s good to have you home, Harry. Now, you get cleaned up, and I’ll finish making dinner.”
A long hot bath, a fresh suit of clothes, and Harry was ready to sit down to the best meal he’d eaten in longer than he remembered. His mother prattled on about her flowers, his father about his horses, but Harry heard little of it. Their small talk might have been nothing more than the crickets singing in the tall grass. After, he plead exhaustion and went straight to bed.
When he woke the next morning, he felt more rested since before the war. Never was a bed so soft. Breakfast was long over and preparations for the mid-day meal begun when he finally made his way downstairs.
Aunt Caroline wiped her hands on her apron. “How’d you sleep?” She kissed him and gave him another big hug. “I’ll pour you some coffee. Just made a fresh pot.”
Was it possible his scar really didn’t bother her?
“Harry?” Aunt Caroline pulled him from his thoughts. “You were a million miles away.” She handed him the promised cup of coffee.
“Other than Jack, you were the only family member to officially welcome me home. All Mother and Father could talk about was my face, and whether or not I should see Alice.” He took a sip of the coffee. Real coffee. He let the rich warmth spread all the way down to his toes and smiled.
“Is it strong enough?” She stood over him waiting for a replay. “I can make a new pot if you want. I didn’t know what you boys got accustomed to over there.”
“Oh, you have no idea the swill we were forced to drink. Whatever it was, it sure wasn’t coffee.” He took another swallow, set the cup on the kitchen table, and helped himself to the leftover pie on the counter. Apple. He ate it straight from the dish, using his fingers to lift the slice to his mouth.
“Harold Jonathan Barnes!”
Harry froze, pie halfway between the dish and his mouth. It drooped, broke in half, and fell with a splat in the dish. He was a grown man, a soldier who fought and killed, watched friends die, but his mother’s voice still struck the fear of God in him.
“We do not eat like animals in this house.” She yanked open the silverware drawer with a clatter.
“Sorry, Mother.” Harry wiped his fingers on the cloth Aunt Caroline used to cover the plate and accepted the fork his mother held out to him.
“Don’t forget, great things are expected of you. There’s no room here for any of the gutter ways you picked up in the army. It’s time to forget and move on.” Having said her piece, she left the room as quickly as she’d appeared.
Aunt Caroline put a hand on his shoulder. “Welcome home, Harry.” She smiled and went back to her work.
He needed a smoke. Cigarettes would be another of the gutter ways his mother would expect him to give up. He’d eat his pie with a fork, but he’d be damned if he’d give up his smokes.
* * *
PIE FINISHED, A SECOND cup of coffee in one hand and a cigarette in the other, Harry went in search of his father. He found him in the stables, sleeves rolled up and hay clinging to his trousers. “Harold Barnes, Sr., prominent citizen, bank president, mucking stalls.” He chuckled.
His father leaned against his pitchfork. “Took up smoking over there, did you? Doesn’t make any difference to me, but I wouldn’t let your mother see. And take it outside. Don’t need you starting a fire.”
Harry stepped out and dropped the butt in the dirt, grinding out the embers with his heel. His father followed, wiping his brow with his handkerchief.
“Where’s Joe?” Harry expected his father’s hired man to appear from around a corner. Joe was no longer young, but he was strong and had worked for them as long as Harry could remember.
“Home with his family, where he belongs. And with the bank closed due to the quarantine, who better to take care of my horses than me?” His father paused and looked at him long and hard.
Was he lamenting the loss of his handsome son and wondering who was this monster standing in his place? There was no pity, not even sadness. His father was smiling.
Harry hoped to avoid another discussion about his scar and fancy Minneapolis doctors. “Did you ever consider getting rid of the horses and buying an automobile?”
“Not for a minute, now let’s go in.” He squeezed Harry’s arm. “Hope you’re hungry. Your Aunt Caroline hasn’t stopped cooking since you came home. I’m not certain she even slept last night.”
Harry looked at his feet then up again with a sly smile. “I just finished last night’s pie. But I could eat again.”
He slapped Harry on the back. “I imagine so, son. I imagine so.” They laughed.
His mother finished setting the table and Aunt Caroline brought in the biggest beef roast Harry had ever seen. His mouth watered. “Baby reds and peas with little pearl onions?”
Aunt Caroline scrutinized him, hands on hips. “Have I ever cooked it any other way?” She stopped, sighed, then asked the question that seemed to be on everyone’s mind. “Does it hurt much?”
His mother frowned. “Of course, it hurts, Caroline.”
He forced himself to smile. “It’s not bad. I hardly notice anymore.”
His mother studied him for any hint of a lie. She always knew when he was trying to pull one over on her.
A slow smile crept across her face. Victory. “Don’t worry, dear.” She hooked her arm in his and led him to the table. “We’ll take you to see the best doctors in Minneapolis. Chicago, if necessary.” She stopped and smiled. “I’ve always wanted to see New York.”
“Crowded, dirty, and noisy.” Harry loaded his plate with everything he could possibly fit and still leave enough for the rest of the family. “You wouldn’t like it, Mother. Besides, the army surgeon said nothing else can be done.” How many times did he have to explain?
“Nonsense.” With a wave of her hand, the conversation ended.
Harry chuckled. He admired his mother’s ability to take charge. Sarge would approve.
She gently laid her hand on the good side of his face. “Let’s eat while Caroline’s wonderful meal is still hot.”
“Yes, ma’am.” Harry smiled. Some things never changed.