No Greater Love (24 page)

SHORTLY AFTER THE
LUSITANIA
WENT DOWN, ITALY ANNULLED
its allegiance to Germany, and declared war on Austria as well. And by September of that year, Russia had lost all of Poland, Lithuania, and Courland, as well as a million men. The Great War was taking a shocking toll, and America was still watching from the sidelines.

The following year, in 1916, the Germans and the French lost almost 700,000 men between them at Verdun alone, and well over a million men died at the Somme. The Germans continued extensive attacks with their U-boats, sinking merchant vessels and passenger ships as well as warships. It caused a tremendous hue and cry, and by then Portugal had been drawn into the war as well, and the airship raids on London continued. And in November, Wilson had been reelected, mainly for keeping the States out of the war. But all eyes were turned toward Europe as the slaughter continued.

On January 31, 1916, Berlin notified Washington that
unrestricted submarine warfare had been resumed, and within two months, they announced that submarines would sink any ship bringing supplies to the Allied countries. Wilson finally took a stand within days, and although earlier he had said that there was such a thing as a nation “being too proud to fight” about the United States, he now announced that he would defend the kind of freedom Americans had always enjoyed and quite simply expected.

Edwina continued to hear from her aunt Liz, although letters were few and far between, and they were coming out of Europe by circuitous routes, but she seemed to be alright in spite of dreadful weather and terrible shortages of fuel and food. But she urged Edwina to take care, and said that she longed to see all the children. She hoped that when the war was over they would all come over and visit her, but even the thought of it made Edwina tremble. She was no longer able to take even the ferryboat to Oakland.

She went to the newspaper frequently, though, and it was always interesting to listen to the men there discussing the war news. She had made her own peace with Ben by then, and they were still close. He realized that she didn’t want to marry anyone, and she was content with her life with the children. She enjoyed his friendship and his male views, and they would talk endlessly about the war, and about the problems they were having with the paper. Phillip was in his last year at Harvard by then, and Edwina was glad of it, she knew the paper desperately needed a family member to run it. The competition was stiff, and the other papers were all run by people and families who understood the business, particularly the de Youngs, who were the most powerful newspaper family in San Francisco. And the healthy empire her father had been building for years had been powerfully affected by his absence. Five years was a long
time, and it was time for Phillip to take over. And she also knew that it would be a year or two before Phillip had a good grasp on everything, but she hoped that he would be able to bring the paper back to what it once had been. Even their income had been diminished somewhat over the past two years, but they still had enough coming in for their way of life not to be affected. She was just grateful that Phillip would be coming home soon. And in the fall, George would be beginning his four-year stint at Harvard.

But on April 6, the United States finally entered the war, and Edwina came home from her monthly meeting at the newspaper, looking sober. She was worried about the boys, she had talked to Ben for a long time about what it would mean for them, and their conclusion had been that for all intents and purposes Phillip and George wouldn’t be affected. Phillip was in college. George was too young, and she was glad for that. All she could remember were the terrible stories she had read at her father’s paper, about the staggering casualties in the course of the battles.

When she got home, Alexis told her that Phillip had called and he would call her later that night, but he never did, and Edwina forgot about it after that. Sometimes he liked to call her just to discuss world events, and although she discouraged that kind of extravagance, she was always flattered that he wanted to talk to her. She was so used to spending her days picking up dolls, and tying ribbons on braids, and scolding Teddy for leaving his soldiers everywhere that it was refreshing discussing more important topics with her older brothers. George was interested in the war too, but he was far more interested in the movies that were being made on the subject. He went to see them whenever he could, and took any one of his innumerable girlfriends with him. It always made Edwina smile, just watching him, it
reminded her a little bit of her own youth, when the most important thing in her life had been going to parties and balls and cotillions. She still went from time to time, but it was all different without Charles, and no one else had ever mattered to her. Nearly twenty-six, she was content with the life she led, and she had no interest in finding a husband.

George scolded her sometimes about going out. He thought she should go out more. He still remembered how it had been “before,” with their parents dressed up and going out, and Edwina wearing beautiful gowns when she went out with Charles in the evening. But when he talked about it, it only made Edwina sad, and her younger sisters would clamor and beg to see the gowns she’d worn, but the prettiest ones were long since put away, if not entirely forgotten. Lately she wore more serious things, and sometimes she even wore some of her mother’s gowns. They made her look more like a young matron.

George asked her, “Why don’t you go out more?” but she insisted that she went out quite enough. She’d been to a concert only the week before, with Ben and his new lady.

“You know what I mean.” George looked annoyed, he meant with men, but that was a subject she didn’t choose to discuss with her brother. They had mixed feelings about it anyway. In some ways they thought she should have more fun, and in others, they were possessive about her. But Edwina didn’t want a man in her life anyway. She still dreamed of Charles, although, after five years, the memories were a little dim now. But in her heart, she still felt as though she belonged to him, and she hated the whispers, and the things people said when she overheard them … tragic … terrible … poor thing … very pretty girl … fiancé went down on the
Titanic
, you know … parents too …
left to bring up the children. She was too proud to let them know she cared, and too sensible to care if anyone called her a spinster. But she was, she knew. At twenty-five, she didn’t let herself care, and she insisted that it didn’t matter. That door was closed for her now, that part of her life definitely over. She hadn’t even looked at her bridal veil in years. She couldn’t bear the pain of it anymore. She doubted if she would ever look at it again, but it was there … and it had almost been … that was enough … and perhaps one day it would be worn by Alexis or Fannie on her wedding day … in memory of a love that had never died, and a life that had never been. But there was no point thinking about it now. She had too many other things to do. She wondered then if Phillip would call again, to discuss the fact that the United States had entered the war, but in spite of his promise to Alexis when he’d called earlier that day, he didn’t.

George came home full of talk about it, though, and several times expressed regret that he wasn’t old enough to go, much to Edwina’s chagrin, and she told him as much, which he felt was extremely unpatriotic.

“They’re looking for volunteers, Win!” He frowned at her, noticing in spite of himself as he always did, that she was even more beautiful than their mother had been. She was tall and graceful and thin, with long shining black hair that she wore straight down her back sometimes when she wasn’t going anywhere. It made her look like a very young girl, unlike the more serious hairdos she wore when she was going downtown, or to meetings at their father’s paper, or to a dinner party in the evening.

“I don’t care if they are looking for volunteers.” She glared pointedly at him. “Don’t get any ideas into your head. You’re too young. And Phillip has a paper to run. Let someone else go to the war, it will be over soon
anyway.” But there was no sign of it, as millions continued to fall in the trenches in Europe.

Five days after Congress had declared war, Edwina was walking in from the garden with an armful of her mother’s roses, when she suddenly looked up and her face went deathly pale. Standing in the kitchen doorway looking handsome and tall, and with a painfully serious face, was her brother Phillip. She stopped where she was and walked slowly toward him, afraid to ask why he was there, why he had come all the way from Boston. She only dropped the roses on the grass next to her, and hurried into his open arms and he held her for a long time. It was odd to realize how grown up he was now. He was twenty-one years old, and unlike Edwina, he looked much older. The responsibilities he’d shouldered in the past five years had left their mark on him, as they had on Edwina, too, but although she felt them, she didn’t show them.

“What is it?” she asked slowly, as she pulled away from him, but a terrible pain in her heart told her what she didn’t want to know, but already suspected.

“I came home to talk to you.” He wouldn’t have done anything that important without consulting her. He respected and loved her too much not to ask her opinion, if not her permission.

“How did you manage to leave school? It’s not your holiday yet, is it?” But she already knew, she just didn’t want it to be what she feared. She wanted him to tell her it was something else, anything, even that he had been thrown out of Harvard.

“They gave me a leave of absence.”

“Oh.” She sat down slowly at the kitchen table and for an instant, neither of them moved. “For how long?”

He didn’t dare tell her. Not so soon. There was so much he wanted to say to her first. “Edwina, I have to talk to you … can we go in the other room?” They
were still in the kitchen, and Mrs. Barnes was rustling somewhere in the larder behind them. She hadn’t seen Phillip since he’d come in, and he knew that once she did, there would be a big fuss and he wouldn’t be able to talk to Edwina.

Edwina said not a word and walked solemnly into the front parlor. It was a room where they seldom sat, except when they had guests, which wasn’t often. “You should have called before you came home,” she reproached him. Then she could have told him not to come home at all. She didn’t want him to be here, didn’t want him to look so grown up and as though he had something terrible to tell her.

“I did call, but you were out. Didn’t Alexis tell you?”

“Yes, but you never called again.” She felt tears sting her eyes as she looked at him. He was still so sweet and so young, despite his serious airs and his almost grownup ways, and the polish he’d acquired at Harvard.

“I took the train that night. Edwina.” He took a quick breath. He couldn’t avoid it any longer. “I’ve enlisted. I leave for Europe in ten days. I wanted to see you first, to explain.…” But as he said the words, she stood up, and walked nervously around the room, wringing her hands, and turning to glare at him.

“Phillip, how
could
you? What right did you have to do that, after all we’ve all been through? The children need you so much … and so do I … and George will be gone in September …” There were a thousand good reasons she could think of why he shouldn’t go, but the simplest one was that she didn’t want to lose him. What if he got hurt, or died? The very thought of it made her feel faint. “You can’t do that! We all depend on you … We … I …” Her voice trailed off and tears filled her eyes as she looked at him and then turned away. “Phillip, please don’t …” she said in muffled tones, and he walked toward her and gently
touched her shoulder, wanting to explain it to her, but not entirely sure that he could.

“Edwina, I have to. I can’t sit over here, reading about battles in the newspapers, and still feel like a man. I have an obligation to do my duty now that this country is at war.”

“Nonsense!” She spun around to face him, and her eyes flashed just as their mother’s would have years before. “You have an obligation to two brothers and three sisters. We’ve all been waiting for you to grow up, and you can’t run out on us now.”

“I’m not running out on you, Win. I’ll be back. And I promise, I’ll make it up to you then. I swear!” She had made him feel guilty for deserting them, and yet he felt that he owed his country something more. And in his heart, he knew that their father would have approved of his going. It was something he had to do, no matter how angry it made Edwina. Even his professors had understood it at Harvard. To them, it was merely part of being a man. But to Edwina, it was a kind of betrayal, and she was still crying and looking angrily at him, as George rushed through the front door a little while later.

He was about to dash past the front parlor, as he always did, and then he caught a glimpse of his sister, head bowed, her long dark hair cascading down her back, as it had been in the garden when she dropped the roses, and he couldn’t see his brother from where he stood near the door.

“Hey, Win … what’s up?… something wrong?” He looked startled and she turned slowly to face him. He had a stack of books in his arms, and his dark hair was ruffled, he looked healthy and young, and his cheeks were warm from the spring air. But as he looked at her with concern, his brother took several steps toward him. George saw him then, and looked even more
worried by what he saw in his eyes. “Hey … what’s wrong?…”

“Your brother has enlisted in the army.” She said it as though he had just murdered someone, and George stared at him, not sure what to say. And then his eyes lit up, and for a moment he forgot Edwina, as he took a step toward his older brother and clapped him on the shoulder.

“Good for you, old man. Give ’em hell!” And then he rapidly remembered Edwina. She took an angry step toward them both and tossed back her long hair with a vengeance.

“And what if they give him hell, George? What if they do it to him? What if they kill him? What then? Will it be so exciting then? Will you be as pleased? And what will you do then, go over there and ‘give ’em hell’ too? Think of it, both of you. Think of what you’re doing. Think of this family before you do anything, and what you’ll be doing to all of us when you do it.” She swept past them then, and turned with a last anguished look at Phillip, and she spoke in an iron voice. “I won’t let you go, Phillip. You’ll have to tell them it was a mistake. But I will not let you.” And with that she slammed the door and hurried upstairs to her own room.