Page 64 of All We Thought We Knew
I mulled over ideas for a quieter place to meet rather than the loud mess hall. The library or one of the recreation halls would work well, but Gunther’s status as an enemy alien prevented him from leaving the hospital complex. My office was out of the question, too, since I didn’t want to raise questions about why I was spending time with him. Even though our friendship was completely innocent, I knew some people might misunderstand or disapprove because Gunther was German.
The door opened as someone entered, letting in midday sunshine.
“We could meet outside now that the weather is warmer,” I said. “There’s a bench behind the dental clinic, but it’s in plain view from the windows. Captain Jones, the dentist in charge, takes his breaks there so he can smoke a cigarette.”
We discussed the plan, deciding it would be best for me to bring sandwiches for both of us on our study days. It would save time, plus we could bypass the mess hall all together.
When our lunch came to an end and we walked outside, Gunther turned to me.
“May I ask you something, Mrs. Delaney?”
When I nodded, he said, “Why do you wish to help me? Most Americans believe I am their enemy. I cannot fault them, considering what is happening in my homeland. But you,” he shook his head in wonder, “you see me differently. You see me for who I am, not where I come from.”
“My grandmother used to tell me to treat people the way I want them to treat me. The day you saved that soldier’s life, I knewyou were trustworthy. I’ve never had many friends. I keep people at a distance, mainly because I’m afraid they’ll abandon me, like my dad and then my mom.” I hoped he didn’t think I was some crazy American woman making a pass at him. “I want to be your friend, Gunther.”
His eyes widened at my use of his given name, but soon a slow smile lifted his lips. “Danke, Ava,” he said softly. “I want very much to be your friend, too.”
We parted with the promise of meeting again at the bench behind the dental clinic. When I reached the office steps and turned, he was there, his hand lifted in farewell.
Lunchtime on Wednesday couldn’t get here fast enough.
NINETEEN:MATTIE
DELANEY HORSE FARM
NOVEMBER 1969
Nurse Bradford was gone by the time Nash and I returned to the farm. I learned from Dad that Mama’d had a sponge bath and had eaten some oatmeal before the woman departed. Even though I enjoyed spending the morning with Nash and Fred without worrying about Mama, I couldn’t shake the feeling of no longer being needed.
It’s not surprising, then, that I spent the entire afternoon with her.
“Now it so happened, that, in spite of Emma’s resolution of never marrying, there was something in the name, in the idea, of Mr. Frank Churchill, which always interested her. She had frequently thought—especially since his father’s marriage with Miss Taylor—that if she were to marry, he was the very person to suit her in age, character, and condition.”
I glanced up from the book in my hands to be sure Mama hadn’t fallen asleep again. Although she’d read Jane Austen’sEmmacountless times through the years, she’d asked me to read it aloud to her today. I was pleased to see her eyes open, watching me.
“Emma wouldn’t have been happy if she’d married Mr. Churchill.” She gave a languid smile. “Nor would he have been happy with her. They were each meant to marry someone else.”
My gaze drifted to the framed black-and-white photograph on the bureau of her and Dad. It was taken on the farm before Mark and I were born. While Mama smiled into the camera, Dad’s expression was his usual solemn frown. Even as a little girl, I’d often wondered why my father was so unhappy.
“How did you know Dad was the man you were supposed to marry?”
She, too, looked at the photograph. “He needed me, and I needed him.”
That didn’t sound very romantic. Maybe that’s why she enjoyed novels likeEmma. Mr. Knightley was the epitome of manly excellence. Handsome. Rich. Kind. Honorable. It made me wonder if such men only existed in fiction. I had yet to come across one.
I read for another thirty minutes before she drifted to sleep. Closing the book, I walked over to the photograph and picked it up. Mama was so pretty. Not much older than I was now, she looked young and vibrant. Happiness radiated from her face.
My eyes studied Dad next.
Tall and handsome, I could see why Mama was attracted to him. But unlike Mr. Knightley, Dad’s hero-like qualities ended there. He wasn’t a mean drunk, like Nash’s father, nor was he lazy, but I couldn’t find anything in his character that clued me in to why Mama had married him. Other than the one time I’d seen him dancing with her in the kitchen, I couldn’t recall witnessing marital affection between them.
I set the picture down, snuck one last peek at Mama, andtiptoed from the room. It was too early to start dinner, so I headed to my bedroom. On the way home from town, Nash and I had discussed the possibility of helping Fred ride a horse once again.
“Are we sure this is a good idea?” The moment we left Fred’s cottage, I’d started to doubt the certainty I’d felt just minutes before. “I would hate to get his hopes up only to have it fail. Or worse. He could fall off the horse and get hurt.”
Nash glanced over to me. “Did you see his face when you suggested it? I’ve never seen Fred that excited.” He focused on the road again. “The fact that you would consider trying to help him get on a horse was enough to breathe life back into him.”
We’d brainstormed designs for the type of platform we would need to build to get Fred level with a horse’s back. A sturdy harness or belt of some sort would also be required. Nash said he’d run the idea of Fred coming out to the farm past Dad, but I couldn’t see any reason why he would disagree. We made plans to get to work on the platform tomorrow morning while Nurse Bradford was here. By the time we reached home, my mind was spinning with the concept of helping a paralyzed war veteran ride a horse. I couldn’t help but chuckle, thinking about how shocked my brother would be if he were here.
