Page 47 of Timeless

“When I say I want all my lives with you, I mean it,” Harriet had said just before she’d kissed the bride.

CHAPTER 18

1945

In her bag, she had fifty-two letters. They were bundled up with twine, and they were the most precious things she had in her possession. Harriet had read them over and over and over again since she’d received the first one. They’d kept her sane when she’d been off-shift or supposed to be sleeping after the horrors she’d seen every single day since finishing her training and being shipped to the Pacific. She’d been lucky, stationed at a building that had actually once been a small hospital instead of a makeshift station just off the front line. She’d had a cot to sleep in every night, and it was indoors, which had saved her from the rains and the insects, spiders, snakes, and everything else the men had had to deal with on top of fighting a war. They’d even had Coca-Cola and regular hot meals when so many others out there fighting didn’t.

As a nurse, she’d seen the bad, too, though. While being stationed where she was meant that she didn’t get the worst of it – that would be the corpsmen who would run into the gunfire and mortars to treat the wounded during battle and then at the stations – for those who were able to be moved off the front line to get additional treatment, non-emergency surgeries and treatment were handled at her hospital, and that hadn’t been easy for anyone. The limbs that had had to be removed immediately to save someone’s life meant that when they arrived at her hospital, they needed further surgery to actually repair everything properly. Infections sometimes set in before they could get to them, and the men would be hooked up to fluids and medication in an attempt to combat them.

At first, Harriet had been put on duty in that ward, making sure the men were as comfortable as they could be while they tried to process and adapt to what had happened to them. Many wanted to get back on the line with their men, but that was impossible. She’d always tried to sit with each one of them every few days if she could find five minutes. She’d talk to them, ask them about themselves, and pray with them if they’d requested that. Then, they’d be shipped back home whenever they were ready. On the nights when she’d lost one to infection or another cause, she’d return to her letters from Deb, reading one after the other, memorizing the words a little more from each reading to the point where she’d been able to recite them silently to herself during the difficult days.

Eventually, she’d been sent to the ward for the men who had nothing physically preventing them from going back to battle; the psych unit, it was called, but Harriet didn’t like that term, so she tried not to use it. These men had been through so much that sometimes, they just needed a break. Other times, they couldn’t go back on the line, or they’d risk the lives of the men around them. There had been a few who had a problem wetting the bed, and they would always be so embarrassed when she’d had to change their sheets. She’d tried to tell them that there was nothing to be embarrassed about, but she wasn’t sure that it ever helped much.

Each time, she’d tried to picture the men in her care as her brothers, John David, or Jacob, and so she’d tried to treat them how she hoped others would treat her family. Getting word about her brothers and John David or Jacob had been next to impossible, so she’d given up on that until she’d gotten one of Deb’s letters. That night, she’d cried for the first time, thinking about how they’d lost both of them at once. Paul was now without his fatherandwithout Jacob, whom he loved at least like an uncle but, really, more like another papa.

Harriet had hoped that JD would return on leave, at least, while she was gone herself, giving Deb someone to have at home, but that hadn’t happened, with the war raging on, and now, he was gone. She’d left Deb there all alone, and asmuch as she’d needed to do this for herself, she’d always regret not being there for her when Deb had gotten the news by telegram that her husband was dead. On the train, Harriet pulled the letters out of her bag and held them to her chest, staring out the window, wishing that she were home already and wondering what kind of reception she’d get from the woman she’d left behind.

Paul would be older now, probably having grown like a weed, and she wondered if she’d even recognize the little boy she’d also left behind. The guilt, which she’d been able to put off for two years now, came back all at once as the train rolled her closer to home. Feeling lucky to be on it in the first place, along with the men who would be returning to their homes as well, she tried to remember that fact. She was going home. So many wouldn’t be. When the train made the final stop before she’d be getting off, Harriet returned the letters to her duffel and tried to get her heart rate under control. Deb had to know that she was coming home today. This train only made these stops once a week, and it had to be in the newspapers that the boys were finally coming home. Harriet had also sent a letter. She hadn’t known what train she’d be on exactly, but before she’d gotten on her ship, she’d sent a letter out that she’d be coming home, so Deb had to know.

When her stop came, she got off and looked around at the small station. The men rushed to their families – some to their parents, others to their girls – and Harriet stood there, looking around for Deb, hoping to see her standing there with Paul, welcoming Harriet back with open arms. When she didn’t see her, she passed through the one-room wooden building to the other side, thinking Deb might be waiting away from the crowd. While therewerea few people waiting there, Deb wasn’t one of them, though.

“I’m sorry to ask, but would you mind dropping me somewhere so I don’t have to walk?” she asked one of the men she’d talked to on the train.

“Oh, sure,” he replied.

Harriet hopped in the car with his wife, letting her bag land on top of his in the back seat, and listened to them laugh and talk about all that he’d missed while wishing she were in a car with Deb instead.

“Here’s fine,” she said when the car pulled up on the edge of the property. “I can walk the rest of the way. It’s a long drive, and it’s dusty. I don’t want your dress uniform to get messy right before you get home, Marine.”

Harriet thanked them for the ride, pulled her bag out of the car, and began walking up the dirt path toward the house. On the slow trek, she worried that her welcome home wouldn’t be a positive one, after all. It was likely that Deb had been changed by the news of JD’s death, the fact that Harriet had left her here by herself before that, and that she’d had to manage both her son and the entire farm on her own in everyone else’s absence. Harriet worried that she might have made the biggest mistake of her life, even though it hadn’t felt like that when she’d made it.

Then, she heard the screen door slam, so she looked up from her dusty Marine-issued shoes, and there she was. Deb was standing on their front porch, with a rag in her hands, which were in front of her. She’d probably been cooking or cleaning and had either heard Harriet’s steps or the car driving off. Harriet froze, not knowing what to do but also because Deb was in front of her. She was beautiful in her house dress, with her hair pinned back out of her face. Harriet wanted to run to her, wrap her up in her arms, and tell her over and over again that she loved her because in their letters, they’d had to be careful with words like that, but she stood there, letting Deb make the first move. Her heart raced while eternity seemed to pass by.

Finally, the rag was dropped to the porch, and Deb ran to her, bare feet and arms outstretched. Harriet dropped her bag, kicked off her shoes, and ran, too. She pulled Deb into her, picking her up off the ground and twirling her around as she breathed in honeysuckle and listened to Deb’s tears of joy that Harriet was finally home. She only put her downwhen she heard something else.

“Mama!”

Harriet opened her eyes and saw Paul running toward them. He looked so much older than the last time she’d seen him, and not for the first time, she wished that she’d stayed home so she wouldn’t have missed him growing so much. When he slammed into her side while she still held on to Deb, Harriet wrapped one arm around him.

“I’m home,” she said to him with tears in her eyes. “I’m finally home.”

“My love,” Deb whispered to her, and Harriet wasn’t worried any longer. “I wanted to be there; I did. But Paul has been sick.”

“Is he okay?” she asked, a different kind of concern washing over her instantly.

“A little cough and fever, but he’s all right. I…” Deb held Harriet’s face in both of her hands, staring into her eyes. “I love you. I didn’t want to be at the station where everyone could see. Can you forgive me?”

Harriet let a tear fall and nodded.

“Yes, of course. I–”

Deb’s lips were on her own then, and Harriet let go of Paul to wrap her arms around her wife’s waist, letting the kiss deepen until Deb slowly pulled away.

“Mama, can we go inside and have lunch now?” Paul asked. “I want Mama to tell me about where she was.”

“Honey, why don’t you run on inside? We’ll be there in a minute, okay? And you’ll need to give Mama some time to tell you what she wants to tell you, okay?”

“Okay,” he replied, sounding disappointed.

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