The Homecoming (15 page)

“Patrick.” He ran in and lifted him in his arms.

“I’m sorry, Daddy,” he cried, burying his face in his chest. “I didn’t want you to be sad. I know you can’t stay. I tried to be strong.”

“It’s all right, Patrick. You’re just a little boy. You don’t have to be strong.” He stroked his hair, then held him close and let him cry.

“I don’t want you to leave me, Daddy.” Patrick looked up, eyes peering through little puddles. “I like Miss Townsend. She is very nice, but I need you.” Patrick tried to hide his face.

“I’m glad you feel that way, son.” Shawn put his finger under his chin and lifted his face. “Listen to me,” he said softly. “I
hate
leaving you. I don’t want to do this.” Tears began streaming down his face. “Don’t think for a single minute that I’d rather be doing anything else but be here with you.”

“Really?”

“Really. I don’t care about being famous or being anybody’s hero. I don’t care about meeting Bing Crosby or Danny Kaye. I told the colonel that two weeks ago. But he said the army needs me to do this, and he wouldn’t let me stay home. That’s the only reason I’m going. When you’re in the army, you have to do what you’re told.”

“Will you call me?”

“Every chance they let me.”

“Will you write me? I can read lots of words now.”

“Every chance I get, and you write me too. Miss Townsend will help you mail it.”

“Okay,” Patrick said. He wiped the tears from his face.

“Listen, Patrick. You let me be strong and let Miss Townsend be strong and let God be strong. You just be a good little boy, okay?”

“Okay.”

Shawn laid him back on his bed.

“Will you pray for me, Daddy?”

Shawn swallowed hard. “Course I will. Close your eyes.” He stroked his finger across Patrick’s brow. “Dear Jesus, thank you for loving us so much that you died on the cross for us. Thank you for being willing to help Patrick right now. Your Word says, ‘Weeping may endure for a night, but joy comes in the morning.’ Please let Patrick fall fast asleep now, have good dreams, and wake up tomorrow without any sadness. In Jesus’s name, amen.”

Patrick was already asleep before Shawn finished praying. He stood up quietly and walked toward the door, then looked back. The dim glow of the lamp rested gently on Patrick’s face, lighting up his cheeks and eyes. What a beautiful face, Shawn thought. So full of innocence and wonder. He faced the same measure of uncertainty as Shawn, but with such hope and simplicity. Shawn saw something of Elizabeth just then. She looked at life that way. He remembered how much he used to love watching her sleep. Patrick had her eyes. But more than that, he had her heart.

Elizabeth had done such a wonderful job with him while Shawn was away. Now he was going away again. “God, keep my little boy,” he said, choking back tears as he made his way downstairs.

Twenty-one

The dreaded moment had arrived.

Shawn was driving; his father sat next to him. Patrick was sandwiched in the backseat between Miss Townsend and Mrs. Fortini. Everyone bundled up in overcoats, scarves, and hats. It wasn’t far to the Allingdale train station, just a few more blocks. That morning, they had all enjoyed a breakfast feast at Mrs. Fortini’s. Everyone seemed in good spirits, so Shawn pretended to be too. It was hard not to smile downing fresh scrambled eggs, fried scrapple, and homemade biscuits. Somehow, she had even managed a small bottle of fresh orange juice. His dad winked at him when Shawn asked how she’d pulled that off. He loved using his money making shadowy little deals down at Hodgins’s Grocery.

“Sure seems crowded for this late in the morning,” the elder Collins said.

Shawn noticed it too. Cars were parked end on end for several blocks as they approached the train station. Shawn suddenly had to put on the brakes. Everyone shifted forward.

“What’s wrong, Daddy?”

“Nothing, Patrick. Just some unexpected traffic.”

“Are we there yet?”

“Just another block or so.”

“I wonder what’s going on?” Mrs. Fortini said.

“Maybe an accident up ahead,” said Shawn’s father.

“I don’t think so,” Shawn said. “I don’t hear any sirens. Road looks clear up ahead all the way to the stone bridge.” The traffic was moving, just very slowly. As they got within eyesight of the train station parking lot, Shawn noticed a steady stream of people turning in.

“Look at them all,” Miss Townsend said. “Must be hundreds.” “Parking lot looks completely full,” Shawn said. “I don’t think we’re going to find a spot. You might have to drop me off at the curb and keep going.”

“No, Daddy. We wanna see you get on the train.”

“I know, Patrick. But what can we do?”

Just then Shawn’s father rolled down his window. “Excuse me, chief,” he said to a man walking with two kids on the sidewalk, about the same speed as the car. “Know what’s going on? Why the big crowd?”

“We’re here to see the war hero off on the train to Philly. Didn’t you hear? The mayor was on the radio last night, asked everyone to come out if they could. Heard him again this morning. Gave all the city workers the morning off so they could be here. Never had a Medal of Honor winner from around here. Wanted my kids to see him.”

“Daddy, they’re talking about you,” Patrick yelled from the backseat.

“Oh no,” Shawn muttered.

“Shawn, you should be proud,” said Mrs. Fortini. “We’re proud of you.”

“Excuse me, sir,” his father yelled to the man. “The war hero? You’re talking about my son here, Shawn Collins.”

“Yeah, that’s his name, Collins. Is that him?” He started pointing at Shawn.

“He’s my son.”

“Hey, everyone,” the man yelled. “Major Collins is right here in this car.” The people nearby all stopped and turned. Everyone started pointing; some began to clap.

Shawn looked down at the floor. He just wanted a few quiet moments to say good-bye.

“Think you could make a way for us to get into the station?” Mrs. Fortini yelled out her window. “Major Collins doesn’t want to miss his train.”

“Sure thing,” the man yelled. Others nodded and instantly started yelling for people to get out of the way.

Shawn heard his name tossed about by the crowd. Each time the cheering got louder. In moments, the crowd parted like the Red Sea. Shawn drove slowly through the opening path. People waved, pointed, and applauded as they drove by. As he turned into the parking lot, he saw the entire platform around the train station covered with people. He recognized the mayor and several members of the town council. At the base of the steps there was even a high school band.

“Can you believe this?” Mrs. Fortini said. “Isn’t it wonderful?”

“They’re all here to see your daddy, Patrick,” Miss Townsend said.

“I know,” he said excitedly.

Shawn wished he could share their joy. He smiled and waved. Just then the mayor and others on the platform started pointing at the car. “Is that him?” the mayor yelled. “Is that Major Collins?” Everyone near the car yelled back that it was. “Make way, everyone! Make way for Allingdale’s favorite son.”

The car edged forward until it was literally surrounded by people; there was no room for people to move. “Guess this is it,” Shawn said. He turned toward Patrick in the backseat. “Grab hold of Miss Townsend’s hand and don’t let go.”

“I will,” Patrick said.

He handed the keys to his father. “Stay close to me,” Shawn said to Katherine.

“I’ll be right behind you.”

“Dad, Mrs. Fortini? Maybe we should say good-bye here.”

“Don’t be silly,” Mrs. Fortini said. “You think I wanna miss this? Maybe you should let me and my purse lead the way.”

Shawn laughed. “All right then, let’s go.”

As soon as they got out of the car, they were surrounded. Everyone reached out to touch him or pat him on the back. Shawn kept looking back, to check on Patrick and Katherine. Each time, they were right there. Katherine was pretty tough. She had no problem pushing people out of the way. Fortunately, the mayor intervened. “Okay, everyone, let them pass. You’ll all get a better chance to see him if you let him by.”

This opened a narrow line to the steps. Patrick and the others pushed through. The mayor actually helped them up the steps. He walked over to a small clearing on the platform. At that moment, everyone heard a loud train whistle coming from the west. “Quiet down, everyone, let’s hear what Major Collins has to say. His train is almost here.” He motioned for Shawn to join him.

“Major Collins,” the mayor announced, more to the crowd than to Shawn. “As you can see, you’ve made all of Allingdale proud by your heroic service to your country.” The crowd erupted in applause. “We have many brave men serving in the Armed Forces, some who’ve even given their lives. But having you back with us, after barely escaping from the Germans the way you did . . . well, it’s just such a wonderful thing.” Again the crowd cheered. “Please know our thoughts and prayers will be with you as you leave us today for your War Bond tour with all those Hollywood stars. Please tell Bette Davis and Bing Crosby I said hello, will ya?” The crowd laughed and clapped. The mayor stood aside. As he did, the train pulled into the station, drowning out all other sounds for the moment.

“Thank you, Mayor, and members of the town council,” Shawn said. “And all you fine folks who’ve come out here on this chilly morning to send me off.” Shawn looked back at the train. “As you can see, I need to be going now. But thanks so much for all your care and support.” He turned and saw Patrick leaning up against Miss Townsend. Next to them were his dad and Mrs. Fortini, all smiling brightly. He turned back to the crowd and said, “Guess I better get used to saying this . . . let’s show our support for all our brave boys by going out and buying War Bonds.” The crowd yelled out their approval. Shawn shook the mayor’s hand and walked over toward Patrick and Katherine. “Let’s go,” he whispered.

He picked up his duffel bag, and they followed him down the walkway toward the front of the train. The mayor gave a signal, and the marching band started playing “God Bless America.” Shawn waved as they turned a corner around the little brick building and out of sight. They walked past a luggage cart then down the sidewalk until they saw a conductor standing at the stairs of one car, ushering passengers inside.

“All aboard,” the conductor yelled.

Shawn put down his bag and bent down to face Patrick. He couldn’t hold back his tears. Instantly Patrick started to cry, then Miss Townsend, then Mrs. Fortini. “I’m sorry, everyone, look what I started.” He picked Patrick up and gave him a big squeeze. “I love you so much,” he said.

Patrick kissed him on the cheek. “I love you too, Daddy.”

“Now don’t you worry about a thing, okay? Miss Townsend will take great care of you, and so will Grandpa and Mrs. Fortini.”

“I know.”

“I’ll call you every chance I can.”

“And write,” Patrick said.

“And write.” Shawn set Patrick down and reached out his hand to Miss Townsend. “Thanks again for taking care of Patrick.”

“Thank you for giving me the chance. I will guard him with my life.”

“Hope it doesn’t come to that,” Shawn said. “But I know you’ll do just fine. Mrs. Fortini?” He walked over and gave her a big hug. “I’m going to miss you . . . and your wonderful cooking.”

“Well, you just come home to us as soon as you can,” she said. “Don’t you worry about a thing.”

He stepped over to his dad. There was an awkward moment as they looked in each other’s eyes. A thought flashed through Shawn’s mind about whether to hug him or shake hands. His father ended the debate by grabbing him and giving him a big hug. As they pulled apart, his father leaned close and whispered. “Shawn, I am so proud of you. Not because of all this,” he said, nodding back to the crowd with his head. “It’s not the medals or the fame. I’m proud of the man you’ve become.”

Shawn was speechless. “I love you, Dad,” he said, and they hugged again.

“Like Mrs. Fortini said, don’t worry about a thing. We’ll get along just fine. There is one last thing I’d like to ask, a favor.” He looked away as he finished the sentence.

“Anything, Dad, what is it?”

“You can say no, and there won’t be another word about it.”

“What is it?” Shawn asked. The train whistle blew again. Shawn looked over his father’s shoulder at the conductor, who gave Shawn a nervous look.

“I’d like to teach Patrick how to carve, just very basic things. It would give us something to do together.” His father was talking even quieter now. He looked back at Mrs. Fortini, as if to make sure she couldn’t possibly hear him.

“I don’t know, Dad. He’s so young.”

“I will be very careful and make sure he knows all the safety matters. I’ve never cut myself in all these years.”

His dad’s face and eyes, almost pleading. Shawn had never seen him like this.

“Okay, Dad. But please . . . really lay on the dangers with him. Make him almost afraid of those tools.”

“I will, I will. Thanks, son.” He gave Shawn another hug.

Shawn walked over to Patrick and hugged him again. He picked up his bag and walked up the stairs. “Good-bye,” he yelled and walked through the doors. The train started to pull away. He ran to a window and kept waving until they could see each other no more.

Ian Collins stood in his driveway, waving to Patrick as he walked with Miss Townsend onto Mrs. Fortini’s porch and into her home. On the drive back from the train station, they had discussed Patrick eating lunch with them. Collins said he hadn’t slept well last night and thought he might lie down for a nap.

That was partly true.

He felt tired enough to need a nap, but he had slept fine. He felt so sluggish and out of breath and not at all up to being with company. He walked slowly up the steps to his vestibule and into his living room. He knew he’d left the heat running, but he didn’t feel any change in temperature. He walked over to the radiator to make sure it was working.

It was. He was the problem.

He knew something was wrong, could feel it in his bones. He knew the difference from fighting a cold or some kind of bug and having something bad wrong with you. He was afraid of going to the doctor, had always been afraid of those quacks. He grew up seeing friends and loved ones being one kind of sick, then going to the doctor and coming out five times worse. Some got so sick they just died, way before their time, seemed like to him.