As Bright as Heaven(23)

“Of course I will still like you,” I said a second later, unable to tame my own smile.

He stayed on the bench for a little while longer, and we talked about school and our teachers and the music we like and where we would go if we could visit any place on earth.

“I want to see the Valley of the Kings in Egypt,” I said.

“I can see you there,” he responded with a knowing look, like he knew enough about me now to imagine me in a place that fascinates me. “I want to go to London’s West End and see a play every night for a week,” he continued.

“That does sound lovely.” It was easy to picture myself with him, my hand on his arm, as we strolled the streets on our way to a show. Gilbert in a black tuxedo and me in a shimmering gown of silk and lace. He smiled at me. Maybe he was picturing it, too.

And then too soon he rose to leave. “I’m expected back home, I’m afraid.”

“Must you go?”

“Sadly, I must.”

“It was so nice to see you.” It was. So very nice.

“See you next month in class?”

“Yes. Yes, of course.”

“Or maybe here in the park again?”

My heart did a somersault. “We’re . . . we’re going to my grandparents’ in Quakertown for two weeks.” I had been looking forward to our trip home to see the family, but I suddenly wished we were not going.

“Then at school,” he said, tipping his hat to me as he and the little dog walked away. He turned after he was a few yards away, as if he knew I was still watching him walk away. He smiled.

I’ll be counting the days until classes start up again.

There had been talk at the end of the term that I might be advanced to the next level when I return to school, which would put me in line to graduate a year early. Mama and Papa said the decision was mine to make.

If I made the jump, I wouldn’t be in the same art and music classes as Gilbert anymore.

I hadn’t decided what I wanted to do until today.

I see no need to rush things. I will stay right where I am.





CHAPTER 14



? August 1918 ?





Willa


Today it is too hot to do anything.

Evie said she’d take me to the park later if I want to go, but it’s too hot to even do that.

If Flossie was home her mother would probably take us to their friend’s house. They’re rich and they have a swimming pool. We could spend the whole day in that pool, and it wouldn’t bother us how hot it was. That would sure be better than sitting here in the house, making paper fans out of catalog pages. But Flossie had to go with her family to Ohio because her cousin died. He was a soldier in the army, and he got sick and died. They brought his dead body back from France all dressed up in his uniform.

I have seen lots of dead bodies since we moved here. Probably ten.

I’d sure like to go downstairs where it’s cooler, but Uncle Fred has some of his secret people over for a lunch meeting and they are talking about secret things and I am not allowed to come down until they are gone. Mama and Maggie are downstairs, in the Elm Bonning Room, but Evie and I are stuck up here.

I asked Evie what Uncle Fred and his friends are talking about down there and she said it’s just war talk. I’ve been listening at the grate to what they are saying and it doesn’t sound like it’s about the war. Right now they are talking about a raid at a dance hall where five hundred slackers were arrested.

I don’t even know what slackers are or why they aren’t allowed to dance. Wars and dances are two different things.

It’s so hot I don’t care what slackers are and why they’re not supposed to be dancing and why that has anything to do with the war in France.

I wish Flossie’s cousin hadn’t died. If he hadn’t, Flossie would be here instead of in Ohio and I wouldn’t be stuck upstairs with Evie. I’d be with Flossie and we’d be splashing and swimming and pretending we are mermaids.





CHAPTER 15



Maggie


The summer recess from school has been long, hot, and boring. We’ve lived in Philadelphia eight months, and I still feel like I’m the new girl. Going home to Quakertown for two weeks wasn’t as much fun as I thought it was going to be, either. My old friends somehow filled in the gap of my leaving and are just fine without me. I suppose that’s how it is when a friend moves away and you stay right where you are; you figure out how to live without that friend. We really don’t have anything in common anymore, my old friends and I. They’ve stayed exactly the same, but I feel different after nearly a year in the city.

Before we left for our visit to Quakertown, a school chum named Sally invited me to her house along with her friend Ruby. She was probably just being nice to me, because she and Ruby are best pals, but I had fun with them. Sally is not someone I can tell all my secrets to yet, and I don’t know if she ever will be. Still, it was nice to be included, and it will make returning to classes a little easier. The person I spend most of my time with these days is Charlie. He’s a bit like Willa in the way he thinks, but he’s kinder than Willa and only wants to make people happy. Willa just wants to make Willa happy.

Today was better than most days have been. I got a letter from Jamie Sutcliff. I’ve written to him five times already, but this is the first I’ve heard back from him. It was dated the twelfth of July and here it is mid-August and I got it today. In his letter he wrote that he had just arrived in France. He sailed to Europe on a troop ship called the America, and he couldn’t say much about it except that they had to take turns sleeping on the cots because there were too many soldiers for the number of beds. He also said that he had to turn in his flashlight and matches when he got on board because no one was allowed to shine a light or strike a match on deck after dark. The voyage took nine days. It was strange walking on land again, he said, but he was very glad to get off that ship. He didn’t say more, but I remember Charlie saying Jamie didn’t care for ships, only trains. Then he wrote something that surprised me. France isn’t all that different than Pennsylvania, he said. They have schoolhouses and vegetable gardens and birthday parties just like we do. They hang their laundry out to dry under the same sun. They kiss those they love and put diapers on their little ones and hold memorial services for their dead, just like we do. Germany is probably just the same, he said. Just the same. Not even the language in France seems that strange. It isn’t until the marching starts that Europe seems like a different place.