Long Way Home(124)
“Yes, I—”
“What plans are they making for you, Addy?”
“What do you mean?”
“Have they chosen a husband for you? Decided your future?”
The change in topics confused her, but she answered dutifully. “Mother said she has several gentlemen in mind, but with Father gone so suddenly, I suppose a period of mourning must be observed before—”
“You don’t have to do things their way, you know. You can live the way ordinary people do. Love a man of your own choosing. But it will require courage.”
“I-I don’t understand.”
“It’s your life, not theirs. Your father can’t stop you now. Do you have the courage it takes to do that, Addy?”
Her heart picked up speed. She couldn’t reply. Might Mimi’s questions have something to do with a mysterious second son after all? But no, Adelaide’s beloved Mimi Junie—the upright, formidable grande dame of New York society—would never live a secret, scandalous life, much less urge her granddaughter to live one.
Would she?
There was a soft knock on the door and a maid entered with a tea tray. The silver teapot was small, and the tray held only one cup and saucer. “Your mother would like you to return to your guests downstairs, Miss Adelaide,” the maid said. There would be no more questions or revelations today.
Grandmother squeezed Adelaide’s hands tightly before releasing them. “Give me a kiss before you go, Addy dear,” she said.
Adelaide did as she was told. She always did as she was told.
A NOTE FROM
THE AUTHOR
When I began researching Long Way Home and the stories of veterans returning from World War II, I learned some startling facts. Veterans Affairs experts estimate that one out of every twenty soldiers returning from that war suffered from what is now recognized as post-traumatic stress disorder, or PTSD. At the time, it was called combat fatigue, shell shock, or war neurosis. The field of psychiatry was in its infancy, still largely influenced by the writings of Sigmund Freud, and PTSD wasn’t officially recognized by the American Psychiatric Association until 1980—after seeing it in veterans of the Vietnam War in the 1970s. As a result, the treatments available after WWII were limited to those I’ve described in the novel: electroshock, insulin therapy, water therapy, and surgical lobotomy, which was performed on a startling number of suffering veterans.
My portrayal of the chain-smoking doctor and his comparison of shell-shocked veterans to a startled cat were taken from a series of documentary films made by the US government during that era. While some WWII veterans suffered as severely as my character Jim Barnett, millions more of our fathers and grandfathers returned from the war and courageously went on with their lives, never talking about their experiences, while suffering from the effects of PTSD. These heroes of the war fought two battles, first against the enemy, then against the trauma they’d endured because of it. Looking back, I now recognize some mild symptoms in my own dad, who joined the Navy at age eighteen and fought in the Philippines. I wanted this novel to honor him and his fellow veterans for their courage in taking their long journey home.
While millions of soldiers were returning home at the war’s end, millions of Jews who’d survived the Holocaust were still a long way from finding a new home. I wanted to honor them along with the brave citizens who risked their lives to help them hide and survive. In Belgium in particular, many Catholic priests and nuns aided in their rescue. One month before the establishment of the State of Israel on May 14, 1948, there were still 165,000 Jewish displaced persons in Germany alone. Many survivors went from concentration camps to displaced persons camps to internment camps on Cyprus before finally being allowed to immigrate to Israel—truly a long way home. The last displaced persons camp in Germany wasn’t closed until 1957.
The story of the St. Louis’s tragic voyage is true. Aside from the survivors who were allowed into England, most of the more than nine hundred passengers ended up in countries that were later occupied by the Nazis.
I pray that this book will help us view the sacrifices of the soldiers who fight for peace and freedom in a new light, as well as look with compassion upon the innocent refugees whose lives are disrupted by the horrors of war.
ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
Once again, I have to humbly admit that I couldn’t have written this book without the help of my family, my friends, and my publishing team at Tyndale House. My husband, Ken, who has been my loving partner for fifty-one years now, continues to be my biggest helper and cheerleader. Our dear friends Jane Rubietta, Cleo Lampos, Ed and Cathy Pruim, Paul and Jacki Kleinheksel, and my sweet sister Peggy Hach faithfully join him in cheering me on when I get discouraged. Many thanks to my brother-in-law Lee Hach and his rescue dog, Franny, for inspiring Buster.
I’m grateful for the advice and expertise of Jolee Wennersten, DVM, whose veterinary wisdom and love for her animal patients helped me create my characters and their work with animals. My friend Cindy Golden added her work experiences in an animal shelter. Her husband, Ted Golden, a retired fire chief, gave me valuable insight into my character Joe Fiore, who’d been a firefighter before the war.
As always, my collaboration with my agent, Natasha Kern; my assistant, Christine Bierma; and my team at Tyndale House has made this a better book. Karen Watson, Stephanie Broene, Kathy Olson, Andrea Garcia, Andrea Martin, and Katie Dodillet, I love celebrating with you at Zoom parties each time one of my books is launched.