Lovely War(95)

James reached into his jacket pocket and pulled something out.

“I received a DSM for what happened,” he said, “which ought to have been his.” He handed the medal, wrapped in wide red and blue ribbon, to Mrs. Mason.

“I can’t take this,” she protested. “It’s yours.”

“I want you to have it,” insisted James. “And the twenty pounds. Take it for the baby.”

Adelaide glanced once again at Hazel, seated on the floor, for guidance. Hazel nodded firmly. Take it. Adelaide surrendered, and accepted the money, and finally, the medal.

He then handed her Frank’s little singed prayer book. When she saw it, she sobbed.

“Frank showed me your picture, more than once,” he said, opening to where it was. “He was very proud of you and your son.”

She took the tiny book and pressed it to her heart. “I don’t know how to thank you.”

Frankie took this moment to twist around on Hazel’s lap and fling his chubby arms around her neck.

“I worried so much about my Frank out there, all alone.” Adelaide pressed on through her tears. “That was what haunted me. The thought of him, with no one.” She wiped her nose. “And when I knew he’d died, I couldn’t sleep for thinking of him, dying all by himself, with no one there to care.” She took James’s hands once more. “To know that he was never alone, that he died helping his good friend . . .” Her eyes overflowed. “It’ll be such a comfort to me in the years to come. Such a comfort.”

She reached beckoning arms out to Frankie, who forgot about Hazel and toddled to his mama. She took him up fiercely and pressed him close. “His sons will know it about their dad.”

Hazel turned to James. How much older he was than when she’d met him, seven, eight months ago. He looked exhausted. Drained and pale and spent.

Even so, there was something in his face she hadn’t seen since Paris. Something, she thought, like peace.





ENTR’ACTE





Seaside—June 15, 1918





APHRODITE


THEY LEFT THE little house together, promising to visit again. Hazel wondered if she was lying.

The heel of Hazel’s shoe twisted slightly, and she stumbled. James offered her his arm. She blushed but took it all the same.

They reached the corner where they ought to turn right to head back toward town and the train station, but James steered them to the left.

“Aren’t we going back to the train station?” she asked.

James shaded his eyes from the sun. “It’s a beautiful day,” he said. “Seems a shame not to spend a bit of it at the beach, don’t you think?”

Hazel didn’t know what to think.

They followed the well-worn path down to the waterfront, where dirt gradually became sand, and grass became sparse weeds and then vanished. They took off their shoes and socks or stockings, which was a tricky proposition for Hazel, but she managed it, underneath her skirt. The sight of her bare feet was just about enough to give poor James a stroke there on the spot.

They rolled up their hosiery and stuffed it into their shoes and carried them on down through the sand. The novelty of hot sand between her toes made Hazel forget herself. She ran down to the water, dropped her things in a heap, and charged into the shallow waves, hitching up her skirts almost to her knees. James hung back and watched her.

She almost made him forget the pain. And her legs! He shouldn’t look. Yes, you should. But more discreetly.

The feel of sea breezes and hot sand, the laughter of children and the cries of seagulls, the smell of popcorn and sizzling sausages, filled him. White-crested waves rolled endlessly in.

He’d gone and seen Frank’s widow and son. He’d done it. He’d known from the start that he must do this. All these weeks, the effort of beating back the fear had left him half dead.

And there Hazel was, bending over to pick up a seashell and squint inside it.





HADES


A faint smell of Woodbine caught James’s nose. A presence he knew stood beside him, but he must not look. This ought to be alarming, he thought, but it was familiar as morning.

He kept his gaze fixed on the horizon line. “You’re a lucky man, Frank.”

“Not by half,” said Frank.

“That’s quite a family you’ve got.”

“I know it.”

They both looked out toward Hazel in the water.

“Why should I get to—”

“Because you can,” said Frank. “Go get her, chum. You’re doing me no favors if you don’t. You don’t think I would?”

James remembered the robust little child in Hazel’s arms, and how she had laughed and played with him. Had there ever been a girl so marvelous, and so kind? One who loved children. Would there ever be . . . ? He felt hot all over, and it wasn’t the sun. A child. He remembered Adelaide’s round belly. Another child who would never know its father.

“I’ll be watching out for them,” Frank said. “I know you will too.”

“They’ll send me back to the war, you know,” said James.

Frank chuckled. “You’ll be out of it soon, sonny,” he said. “No fear. I think you’ll come through the other side. It’s not much longer now.”