Tracie Peterson (3 page)

Rachel put aside her memories to listen. She nodded. “I think so.”

Ruth frowned. “Perhaps Mrs. Mendelson forgot to tell me something.”

“Maybe she’s brought us another cake,” Helen offered. She gave her reddish brown pigtails a toss over her shoulder before putting her attention back on the biscuits she was helping to make.

“I’ll go check, Mother,” Rachel said, putting aside the sifter.

“If it’s Mrs. Mendelson, don’t let her in,” Helen declared.

“Helen, that’s not nice,” Ruth replied.

“Well, then,” Helen replied mischievously, “just don’t let her fruitcake in.”

Rachel could hear her mother’s and sister’s shared giggles all the way through the house. It was good to hear laughter after so many months of sorrow. The Bennett house was gradually settling back into a routine.

Brushing a bit of flour from her apron, Rachel opened the door, fully expecting to find their fiesty little neighbor. Instead, she found a dark-haired young man standing on the porch. He held his hat in his hands, and behind him a small suitcase rested near the steps. His expression teetered between confusion and panic.

“Yes? May I help you?” Rachel asked softly. No doubt he was peddling something and was simply new at the job.

“Miss, you don’t know me, but I knew Kenny.”

Rachel felt the familiar tightening in her chest. Anytime she heard her brother’s name spoken, she felt herself washed anew with sadness. The pastor had said it would pass in time. Grandpa Bennett had said the same. He had experienced the death of children in their infancy, as well as the loss of his beloved wife. He had firmly told them that while they would always feel the loss, the deep sadness would fade in time. Rachel prayed it might be true.

“You knew Kenny?” she questioned. Then with a smile she added, “How nice. Won’t you come inside? I’m sure my mother and father would love to meet you.”

“I don’t want to impose. I just came up this way because I made Kenny a promise. He wanted me to see Longview, and he especially wanted me to meet his folks.”

Rachel felt the sadness fade and a sensation of familiarity replaced it. She could very nearly hear the lines of Kenny’s letters running through her memory as she stared into the face of this stranger. “Are you David?” Her tone was one of hope.

The young man looked positively stunned. “Yes. How did you know?”

“Oh my!” Rachel could only manage to say.

By this time her mother had come to see who Rachel had taken up a conversation with. “Who is it, Rachel?”

Rachel turned to her mother. “It’s David. Kenny’s friend from the ship!” She turned to see the same expression of amazement on her mother’s face that she imagined marked her own.

“Oh, David!” Ruth declared, throwing open the screen door. “Why, you just grab up that bag of yours and come inside out of the cold.”

He shook his head and sputtered for words. “I . . . uh . . . uh . . .”

“We thought perhaps you had died at Pearl Harbor. No one seemed to be able to give us any information,” Ruth continued.

“I don’t understand,” David replied. “Information about what?”

“Why, about you,” Ruth replied matter-of-factly. “Now, don’t argue with me. Kenny told us so much about you. He thought the world of you, you know.”

Rachel could see by the expression on the young man’s face that he didn’t believe her mother. Stepping back to give him more room,
Rachel watched in silence. My, but he was handsome. Kenny had failed to mention that. Then with a smile, Rachel almost giggled aloud at the thought of Kenny sharing such a thought with his sister.

“Come on,” Ruth encouraged. “Bring your things and come warm up inside. We have a fire going just around the corner.”

David smiled nervously. “Does the mantel have pine boughs decorating it? Pine boughs and red bows?”

Ruth looked at him rather oddly and even Rachel was surprised by the question. “Why, yes, it does. I suppose Kenny told you all about Christmas in the Bennett house. We don’t have the tree yet, but that’s because Marion, Kenny’s Dad, hasn’t found the perfect one.”

“It has to be big enough to reach the ceiling,” David recited, obviously from memories Kenny had shared, “but there has to be room for the star.”

Rachel read the longing in his tone. He seemed nothing like the outlandish character her brother had written her about.

Ruth laughed. “That’s right. Please come inside,” she said again. This time she let her own longing be heard, and Rachel clearly understood her mother’s need.

“Yes!” Rachel said, rather embarrassed by her own enthusiasm. “It would be so wonderful if you would spend some time with us.”

David looked at both women as though they had somehow gone daffy, then shrugged and went back for his suitcase. Lifting it rather slowly, he turned and again stated, “I don’t want to impose.”

“Nonsense,” Ruth said, settling the matter. She reached out and motioned David into the house.

Rachel eased away from the door to let them pass. In a moment that lasted only a heartbeat, David’s eyes met hers. Something inside Rachel stirred to life for the first time. Her heart nearly broke for the lost look in his eyes. Oh, Kenny had been right. This one was truly wasting away. Life had evidently treated him very poorly.

She closed the door and glanced upward with a smile. It was almost as if Kenny himself had sent them a special Christmas gift. It was almost as good as having Kenny home once again.

David Cohen felt an overwhelming urge to bolt and run from the Bennett house. He’d never experienced such kindness, and it made
him most uncomfortable. Surely these people were merely putting on an act for his benefit. They couldn’t really want him around. Of course, if Kenny had only mentioned the briefest details of their friendship, then he could understand. They couldn’t possibly know how he had hurt Kenny time and again by lying and sneaking around. They couldn’t know everything and still want him here.

But as the evening wore on and supper was served, David found Kenny’s sisters, Helen and Rachel, and his dad, Marion, and grandfather George most cordial. They were every bit as enthusiastic about his visit as Ruth had been. With a spirit of true interest they asked him questions and showed concern over his injuries, but never once revealed any pity or disdain.

They laughed and told stories of Kenny and Christmases gone by. David found himself caught up in the conversation, even sharing memories Kenny had related to him while they were in the navy together. The family seemed moved by this, especially Ruth, who would dab at her eyes whenever David told of something particularly meaningful.

Supper had been marvelous in spite of the limitations put on them by rationing. Mrs. Bennett had prepared a marvelous chicken stew, and David had never known anything that had tasted quite so good.

“That was wonderful,” he told Ruth as she shooed everyone to the living room.

“Thank you, David. I’m so pleased you enjoyed it.”

“Good thing you didn’t serve him any of Mrs. Mendelson’s fruitcake,” Helen threw in with a giggle.

“Now, Helen, that’s not very nice.” Ruth spoke in a reprimanding tone, but nevertheless there was a smile on her face.

Helen bestowed an impish grin on David before flipping her pigtails and heading for the stairs. “I have to go memorize my lines for the Christmas play. If you decide to cut the cake, don’t worry about saving me any.”

Ruth laughed at this, as did Grandpa Bennett and Marion. Only Rachel refrained, and David felt certain that was because she’d failed to hear what her sister had said. Rachel seemed like something out of a dream to David. She carried herself with a kind of grace and quietness that made her appear almost elegant—regal. Here she was
in a simple cotton dress, nothing at all elaborate, and yet she was clearly the most beautiful woman David had ever known. He watched her as she crossed the room to pull the drapes, seemingly caught up in her own thoughts. How come Kenny had never told him just how lovely his sister was? Suddenly unnerved by his thoughts, David searched frantically for something to say.

“That . . . ah . . . that chicken stew . . . well, it was just about the best food I’ve ever had,” David said. He bowed his head, refusing to look at Rachel for fear she’d read his thoughts.

“It helps that we raise our own chickens,” Marion Bennett said, plopping into his favorite chair by the fire. “We took to raising a lot of our own stuff once rationing kicked in. I’m just glad we’re old farm and logging people. We know how to get by. Rachel, darlin’, don’t worry about switchin’ on the program,” Mr. Bennett said as his eldest daughter moved toward the radio. “Let’s hear more from Mr. Cohen.”

David looked nervously at each of the Bennetts. “You can just call me David,” he finally managed to say.

“Well, then, David, tell us about your injury,” Marion suggested, not at all appearing concerned with prying into David’s personal life. “We didn’t hear much after learning about Kenny. I figure you must have been wounded at Pearl on the
Arizona
, but how did you manage to get yourself to safety?”

David felt the color leave his face. He imagined that the others could watch it visibly drop from healthy fleshy hues to a stark, pasty white. “I don’t remember a whole lot. In fact, I . . . I—”

“Never mind with that,” Ruth interjected. She picked up a ball of yarn and two knitting needles and sat herself down to work. “David would probably feel better if we left off with remembering the battle. Maybe you menfolk can discuss it later on, but for now, why don’t you just sit down over here by me, David. You can tell us about your plans for the future.”

David nodded, and while Marion and George looked a bit disappointed, the women of the Bennett household looked quite relieved. He took a seat on the sofa beside Mrs. Bennett and cleared his throat hesitantly. “I can’t really say I have any plans for the future. I’ll have to stick close to the doctors for a while, I guess, but otherwise . . .” He let the sentence trail off into obscurity, just as he
planned to do for himself once he left the Bennett household.

“Why don’t you stick around with us until you make up your mind,” Ruth said, glancing quickly to her husband. “Would that suit you, Marion?”

“I think it would be fine having Kenny’s friend stay on,” he agreed.

“I couldn’t,” David protested, catching a veiled glance from Rachel. She seemed to be watching him with the most amazing blue eyes.

“It’s no imposition, if that’s what you’re worried about,” Ruth declared, her knitting needles clacking rhythmically. “At least stay with us through Christmas. Kenny’s old room is empty. You might enjoy it there.”

“I know I would,” David began.

“Then it’s settled,” Ruth replied. She put her knitting aside. “In fact, I’ll just show you upstairs right now. You look a little tired, and here we are gabbing your leg off.”

She got up from the sofa and smoothed her apron. Her slightly plump frame and warm expression made her a most appealing woman in David’s eyes—the kind of woman that David would have loved to have hugged. Not because of anything romantic, but in the sense of one seeking solace, of one seeking a home. He could tell just by looking at her, by watching her interact with her family, that this was a woman in whose arms you could find rest and a sense of belonging.

Without protesting, David bid the family good-night and followed Ruth to the stairs. They took the stairs slowly, and David knew instinctively that Ruth had done this for his benefit. The stair rail was on the left-hand side, and David had no way of holding on. Even this simple act endeared her to him. Was this what it was like to have a mother who cared? One who considered each child’s need and made provision for it?

At the top landing, she turned down the little hallway and pointed. “That’s where Marion and I sleep. Over there’s the girls’ room and this is Grandpa’s,” she said, motioning to the left. “That leaves just this one. Kenny’s.” She turned the handle on the door to the right. “I had Marion bring your suitcase up here earlier. I had hoped to convince you to stay.” She turned on the light and smiled. “I’m so glad you’ve come to us.”

David knew without question that she meant every word. She
really was happy to have him there. “I’m glad I came too,” he said, hardly even aware of the pain in his arm.

Ruth walked over to the desk and turned on a lamp, while David did a silent inventory. Kenny had described this room a hundred times. There was the window, now draped in heavy blackout material, where Kenny had tried to sneak out and instead managed to break his arm falling from the roof. He had been trying to join his friends for a bit of midnight fun when his plans went awry. There was the bookcase where all of his favorite books were still waiting for their owner’s return. There was his baseball glove and bat. It almost seemed that the memories invoked were his own. David wanted only to take it all in, to remember everything about Kenny, to feel that he could somehow bring him back.

When he glanced back at Ruth, he found her doing the same thing. She was seeking a sense of Kenny’s presence, just as he was.

“I know he’s with the good Lord,” she said softly. “But I miss him so much. Sometimes I just come here and sit on his bed and touch his things. It makes me feel close to him again. I guess that sounds silly. I mean, with Kenny joining the navy, it wasn’t like he was here all the time. But he came home on leave and he wrote often. I guess I just always counted on him coming home—someday.” She gave him a knowing look and sighed. “I know it may sound selfish, but I hope you’ll stay for Christmas. I haven’t told anyone, but I’ve really dreaded facing it. I mean, last year we were still in shock. We were hopeful that Kenny would be found alive in one of the area hospitals. We clung to that hope—we even hung Kenny’s stocking just like we’d always done.” She wiped at her tears, not at all ashamed to have shed them.

“Now we know he’s gone. We know he won’t be found.”

She looked beyond David toward the window. He couldn’t help but wonder what she saw there. Did she try to imagine Kenny standing there happy and alive? That’s how it was for David, so surely she might also be the same.