The Homecoming (21 page)

A few moments later, Pastor Harman went up to the pulpit and asked everyone to turn in their Bibles to a passage somewhere in the Psalms. She looked around, again feeling very uncomfortable. Everyone else had a Bible and instantly began turning pages. She was half-tempted to pull the hymnal out of the little rack and pretend it was a Bible. But a woman next to her leaned over and whispered kindly, “You can look at mine if you want.” She shifted the Bible on her lap so Katherine could see.

“Thank you,” Katherine whispered back.

The pastor read several verses, then prayed. Everyone closed their eyes, so Katherine did too. He talked for the next forty minutes. She found his voice fairly pleasant. He really seemed sincere. Occasionally he got loud, but it seemed more from genuine enthusiasm than anger, like someone getting excited when retelling a story. She couldn’t follow everything he said, but it certainly wasn’t hard to sit there and listen.

She smiled as she realized she hadn’t fidgeted in her seat a single time.

Pastor Harman said, “As I close, I want to take just a few moments to explain how the gospel is revealed in this psalm.”

She decided it was time to slip out. She wanted to be there waiting for Patrick when his service ended.

Twenty-nine

The train rolled down the tracks, the soft clicking sound always in the background, a nice rhythm, like a drummer playing the brushes. Shawn thought it oddly comforting, sitting there in the dining car. He looked out his window, trying to ignore the cigarette smoke drifting his way from three tables down. A table full of showgirls. He looked up at them then quickly turned from the stares of one blonde, Lana-something. She’d had him in her crosshairs almost since the tour began.

He looked back through the window. It was dark outside. The city lights flashed by in his face like a photographer’s bulb. Another thing he wouldn’t miss.
Where are we now?
he wondered. Every few days a different place.

Last night was easy to remember. New York City.

Bigger than all the other crowds combined, Lieutenant Winston had said. After the show, Colonel Simmons had even called to congratulate Shawn. The rallies were bringing in record numbers of dough. Shawn thought it didn’t hurt adding Bing Crosby and Danny Kaye to the lineup. Both had flown in for the day.

Shawn had to admit . . . it was a thrill to see them perform up close. He loved their singing, the dance moves, and in between they kept everyone in stitches. It felt good to laugh. He kept thinking about Mrs. Fortini the whole time. She would have loved it.

“Say, Major. Saw you last night at the rally. Right after Mr. Crosby and Mr. Kaye done their bit. I was in the crowd, in the colored section. They sure was somethin’.”

Shawn turned to see the smiling face of Harrison James, the Pullman porter who’d been so helpful on his train ride down to Washington last month. He was still being helpful every single day. “Well, Harry, you should have come up after and said hi. I could have introduced you.”

Harry looked over his shoulder, as if someone was listening. “I couldn’t do that, Major,” he whispered. “But I sure liked hearing what you said when they was done. Made me want to go right out and buy some of them bonds.”

“Thank you, Harry. So what you got there in your hand?”

“I was in the mail car, found this in your slot. Thought I’d save you the trouble.” He handed a long envelope to Shawn.

“That was very kind, Harry.”

“We gonna be in Philly by the end of the week. That where you’re from, ain’t it?”

“Sure is. I’m hoping to see my son and father if I can swing it.”

“Well, I better get back before they come looking for me.” He turned to head back the way he came. Shawn gently grabbed his sleeve.

“Where you going so quick?” Shawn asked, then discreetly handed him two dollars.

“Now, you don’t have to do that, Major.”

“You’ve got your way of being nice. This is mine.”

“Well, thank you. Maybe now I can buy me some of those bonds,” he said, winking.

Shawn noticed the address on the envelope. It was Mrs. Fortini’s. He quickly opened it. Out popped a one-page note folded in half and a slip of paper with three photo prints. Shawn smiled. It was Patrick and Katherine; the pictures were the kind you get at a photo booth. Patrick was sitting on her lap. He smiled slightly on the first shot. Smiled much bigger on the second. Then Katherine—Miss Townsend—had picked up his hand, got him waving on the third. He looked so happy. Shawn wished he could somehow process his grief as well as Patrick seemed to be doing. To be able to be that happy this soon after . . .

Shawn noticed writing on the back and turned it over. There in huge letters he read: “I miss you Daddy.” He looked at Patrick’s face again. “I miss you too, my little man.” He opened the note and read:

Dear Major Collins
,

Found a place that does the photos like you asked. Had fun with Patrick taking them. Sorry I’m in the pictures, but he was too afraid to go into the booth alone. I don’t mind if you want to cut me out. I sent all three, because I couldn’t decide which one was the cutest (I liked them all)
.

Yours truly, Katherine Townsend

Shawn looked at the photos again and decided to leave them just as they were.

“Whoa . . . who’s that?” Lieutenant Winston walked by from behind and sat at the table across from Shawn. “May I, sir?” he asked, pointing at the pictures.

Shawn reluctantly handed them over. “That’s my son with his nanny.”

“Nanny? You’re kidding, right? When you said you had a nanny, I’m thinking old lady with her hair in a bun.”

Shawn watched him as he ogled the pictures. “My son’s in there too.”

“Nice-looking boy, sir.” Winston handed them back. “You and the nanny . . . are you . . . ? What I mean is—”

“No, we’re not a couple. And I didn’t pick her for her looks. She happened to be the lady who took care of Patrick after my wife . . . while I was in England. She saw him through a pretty dark time, and they became close. About the time I got stuck doing this, she lost her other job.”

“I understand, sir. Didn’t mean anything by asking.”

“That’s okay, Lieutenant.”

“Say, sir, got a few more details about our time in Philly. Got a minute?”

“Fire away.”

“After the rally on Saturday in the afternoon, the colonel lined up a huge dinner party with all the who’s-who in town. They’re each buying a thousand dollars of war bonds for a chance to meet the stars up close. After we eat, we’ll do the show, then some dancing. Colonel said a number of them asked about you, whether you’d be there. Course he promised them you would.”

Shawn sighed.

“But listen, sir. You don’t have to get up and give a speech. I’ll introduce you like I always do. But all you have to do is say hi, thanks for coming. Everyone there is already paying a ton of money just to walk through the ballroom doors.”

Shawn had an idea. “Lieutenant, when they arrange the seating, leave room for two women and a little boy at my table.”

“I can do that, sir.”

“Also, in between the rally and the dinner, I want to borrow the car to visit my dad in the hospital.”

“I don’t know about that one.”

“Lieutenant . . . he’s dying. Once this train leaves Philly and heads south, we’ll be gone three more months. This could be my last chance to see him.”

“All right, sir. I’ll make it happen somehow.”

“Appreciate it.”

Winston got up. He nodded at the three girls still sitting a few tables away. He pointed down at the photos of Patrick and Katherine. “The nanny coming, sir? To the dinner in Philly?”

Shawn nodded then signaled with his head for the lieutenant to beat it.

At the next stop, someplace in New Jersey, Shawn found a pay phone and called Mrs. Fortini. It was after 9:00; he hoped it wasn’t too late.

“Hello, Mrs. Fortini’s residence.”

“Katherine . . . Miss Townsend? It’s Major Collins.”

“Oh, hi. Are you looking for Mrs. Fortini? She’s already gone to bed.”

“Well, can you give her a message?”

“Did you get the pictures?” Katherine asked.

“They were great, thanks. I just have a minute. Here’s what’s going on. We’ll be in Philly this Saturday, and I got permission for you, Patrick, and Mrs. Fortini to come to a big dinner they’re having downtown.”

“Really? They’ll be so excited. Where at?”

“Believe it or not, it’s in the Wanamaker’s Building. They’ve rented out one of the top floors. Big affair with all the richest people in town coming. The dinner is at 7:30, but I’ll meet you all downstairs at the Eagle.”

Katherine paused. Shawn wasn’t sure why. “Is that a problem?” “Well, if it’s for rich people, I imagine they’ll be dressing in tuxedos and evening gowns.”

“Probably,” Shawn said.

“I don’t . . . I don’t have anything like that to wear. Just work outfits.”

“Oh.”

“Do you know if Patrick has a suit to wear? I could just drop him and Mrs. Fortini off then come back after.”

“I don’t know if Patrick has a suit or not. If he does, I doubt it would still fit him. I’m sorry. I didn’t even think about clothes. But I don’t want you to just drop him off. I’m planning to spend as much time with him as I can, but in these situations, my time’s not my own.” He thought a moment. “Tell you what, tomorrow when we stop, I’ll wire you seventy-five dollars. That should be enough, I think. Fifty for you and twenty-five for Patrick.”

“Oh, Major, I couldn’t ask you to buy me a dress.”

“Don’t be silly. I
need
you to be there . . . for Patrick. Besides, they’re paying all my expenses on this tour, so I’ve got plenty of extra money.”

“Fifty dollars,” she said.

“Is that enough?”

“It’s too much.”

“Look, I’ve got to get back on the train.”

“Thank you so much. On the next stop could you call Dr. Matthews?”

“Is my dad all right?”

“He’s about the same, physically. But he won’t leave the hospital.”

“What?”

“Dr. Matthews wants to release him to come home, but your dad won’t leave.”

“Why?”

“He won’t say, not to us anyway. The doctor knows, but he said your dad told him not to tell us.”

“That’s crazy.”

“I’m sorry to bother you with this, but Patrick really misses him. You know what the doctor said about his heart. It just seems like they should be together now as much as possible and—”

“Don’t say another word. I’ll take care of it.”

They hung up, then Shawn fumbled through his pockets for the hospital’s telephone number. He heard the conductor shouting just outside. “All aboard. Last call.”

Thirty

Ian Collins sat in his hospital room listening to
The Adventures
of Sherlock Holmes
, one of his favorite shows, but he was completely distracted. He stared at the bathroom door then down at his bum leg in its cast. Where was that Robert anyway? He’d told the nurse he needed him right away. They’d provided him a set of crutches, but he was too weak to use them. Over in the corner sat his wheelchair, too far to reach. Robert did that on purpose, to make sure he wouldn’t even try to use it without help.

Robert was good to him that way. Robert was his orderly.

Collins was paying the hospital extra to get some extra attention. Figured he had that pile of money in the bank and never used it. Seemed clear that now was a good time to spend some. It had also gotten him out of that dreadful sixteen-bed ward down the end of the hall. All night long, all these strangers snoring and moaning. Couldn’t put ten minutes of decent sleep together.

Shawn had called an hour ago. Collins didn’t have a phone in his private room, but Robert had told him. Said Shawn had called Dr. Matthews and was on his way to the hospital right now. If Robert got the message right, Shawn had done one of his big War Bond rallies right there in Philly this afternoon. Had some other big shindig going on tonight. But they loaned him a car to come by for a quick visit.

Last thing Collins wanted was to waste the little bit of time Shawn had taking care of business in the bathroom. Took so long to do what needed doing, this stupid leg all busted up. Least the bump on his noggin had gone down, got that turban of bandages off his head.

Where is that Robert anyway?

He looked toward the hall, just about to shout Robert’s name when he appeared in the doorway. The next moment, there was Shawn standing right next to him.

“Shawn!” he yelled. “My boy . . . Robert, you meet my boy Shawn?”

Robert walked in, big strong guy, had to be Italian by the look of him. Then Shawn. “Yes, I did, Mr. Collins. He and I been talking a little bit. Need some help getting to the john?”

“Keep your voice down,” Collins said.

“Dad, he wasn’t talking loud,” said Shawn. He walked over and gave his dad a hug.

“I wanted to get this over with before Shawn got here,” Collins said as Robert rolled his wheelchair to the bed. In one motion he lifted Collins up and sat him down.

“We’ll be done in a minute, Major.”

“Take your time, Robert. Dad, don’t worry, I’ll be fine out here.”

In a few minutes, they were in and out and Collins was back in bed. That was why he liked Robert. Did what needed doing with no chitchat.

“Wow, look at you in that uniform,” Collins said to Shawn. “All spiffed up. Thanks, Robert, we’re all set here.”

“Till the next time then,” Robert said, heading for the door. “Nice talking with you, Major. Just call me, you got my number.” He turned right and was gone.

“What’s he mean by that?” Collins asked.

Shawn took a seat in the lone chair next to the bed. “I’ll get to that in a minute. How you doing, Dad? I’m so sorry I couldn’t be here for you.”

“Shawn . . . I’m okay. I don’t want you feeling that way. You’re doing your duty. I couldn’t be prouder. I been bragging about you to everyone walks through that door.”

“I’ve been so worried about you.” Shawn reached out and put his hand on the bed next to his father’s side.

Collins reached out and patted his arm. “Really, I’m okay, son. See? They got that bandage off my head. You should’ve seen me. Looked like an Arabian knight.”