Page 133 of The Book of Summer

“‘Sodomite disaster’!” she says. “What kind of personnel handles that?”

“The Red Cross?” Evan tries.

“Harriet does quote some Red Cross friend who claims the setting is much too much for these perverts, what with the ‘veritable smorgasbord of flesh.’”

Bess drops both hands, smacking the article against her thigh.

“You take issue with ‘smorgasbord’?” Evan guesses.

“And the flesh! But just when I think old Harriet R. is going completely off the homophobic rails, she veers back toward ‘touching.’ Not liketouching, touching—”

“So, double touching?” Evan jeers.

“Speaking of ‘confirmed perverts.’” Bess shakes her head as Evan breaks into full-blown laughter. “I meantheartwarming,you sicko. It’s actually kind of sweet. Hattie interviewed gay servicemen. She claims that despite the flesh buffet and what we imagine to be a bunch of macho, fag-hating dudes, the front lines were asafeplace for homosexuals. She writes, ‘Here’s the rub. Out there it’s far more accepted than it is on our own American soil. As it happens, when it comes to male-on-male lovemaking, fellow soldiers look the other way.

“‘I interviewed one homosexual, a former navy lieutenant discharged after repeated offenses. He claims his proclivities were well known and he received far more guff and razzing due to his status as a half-and-half.’” Bess snorts. “An editorial note specifies this means half Mexican, not half ‘Negro’ as one might assume. Well, the guy told her, ‘if a man could find comfort amidst such hell, the general view was: cheers to that.’”

“Aw,” Evan says. “Love on the battlefield.”

“Right? Apparently decades-long affairs began in these circumstances. ‘Being at war,’ a gay soldier told her, ‘was the freest I’d ever been. The most alive I’ve felt was on that ship.’”

Bess sets the paper down.

“You’re right,” Evan says. “That is kind of sweet. Minus the half-breed stuff.”

“One man she interviewed said it was hard to return to the States because it was back to hiding his true self. The article also mentions pictures, but Grandma didn’t save those.” Bess frowns. “Bummer.”

“It’s nice to think,” Evan says, picking up the article, “that some people found solace in such horrible circumstances.”

He studies the paper, brows crinkling.

“Harriet Rutter,” he says. “That might’ve been the ‘good-time gal’ my aunt talked about. The one who palled around with your grandmother.”

“They were undoubtedly close. Hell, part of me thinks Ruby had some ‘undiagnosed’ sexual leanings in Hattie’s direction. She was unduly concerned with her.”

Evan grimaces and his eyes dart back toward the article.

“What?” Bess says. “What is it?”

“It’s like…” He shakes his head. “You know when you have that sensation? A memory trying to come out? And you can’t decide if it’s real or just something you made up?”

“That describes ninety percent of the time I spend at this house.”

“I feel like…” he says. “Do you think… I seem to recall some rumor? About your grandfather?”

“You mean that he was an alcoholic? Yeah, not a rumor. That’s true. Did I ever tell you that he died falling through a plate glass window while drunk?”

“No.” Evan shakes his head. “Yes. You did tell me that. Way back. But…”

He taps the page.

“This might be about him. Because of him.”

“Wait. You mean Sam Packard wasgay? That can’t be right.”

“But you said he was discharged? Somewhat unceremoniously? The rumor was…” Evan squints hard. “I swear there was something about this. My aunt mentioned…”

“No. God no. That’s wrong. I didn’t know him, and he had his problems. But. No. Those weren’t the issues he had.”

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