Page 105 of The Women of Oak Ridge
EPILOGUE:LAUREL
OAK RIDGE, TENNESSEE
DECEMBER 27, 1979
A fresh layer of snow blanketed the yard when I awoke and looked out the window. The wintry weather had turned Oak Ridge into a picture-perfect Christmas scene. I was grateful the storm had held off until my plane landed in Knoxville late last night. I was also grateful it was toasty and warm inside. Jonas and his dad had volunteered to keep an eye on Aunt Mae’s house after she moved to Boston at the end of the summer, and they’d repaired the ancient heater last week after it conked out.
I glanced at the clock on the bedside table. I still had thirty minutes before Jonas was due to arrive. As I padded across the hall to the bathroom, I thought back to his trip to Boston last month for Thanksgiving.
Aunt Mae had proudly given him a tour of her new apartment in the basement of Dad and Mom’s house. After sleeping inmy old bedroom while the renovation took place, she’d happily moved into her own space the previous week. She and Mom spent hours decorating, enjoying each other’s company. A new watercolor of the Tennessee mountains Mom painted for Aunt Mae hung prominently over the sofa, a reminder of her former home. Even my sisters spent time with our aunt these days, learning how to make clothes on the old sewing machine and bake cookies. The best news was Aunt Mae’s eyesight had greatly improved, stumping her ophthalmologist. Aunt Mae simply stated that God had healed her of many things when he set her free, including her failing eyesight.
I’d just finished applying a little makeup when Jonas knocked on the front door. I missed having Peggy bark her greeting when someone arrived, but she was queen of the Willett’s Boston house now. Mom and my sisters adored the little dog, and I’d even caught Dad sneaking treats to her from time to time.
“Good morning,” I said when I opened the door. Jonas looked like a ruggedly handsome lumberjack in his plaid flannel shirt, jeans, and boots. We’d planned to go hiking in the Great Smoky Mountains National Park this morning and attend an Oak Ridge Boys concert in Knoxville tonight. I hoped the snow wouldn’t put a kibosh on our plans.
“Good morning, beautiful.”
I was in his arms a moment later, his warm lips on mine.
When we parted, he held up a brown paper bag. “Fresh donuts for breakfast.”
“You read my mind.” I led the way to the kitchen and started a pot of coffee. “It seems so strange that Aunt Mae lives in Boston now instead of here in her house.”
Jonas sat at the table, opened the bag, and peered inside. “Correction. Your house.”
I joined him while we waited for the coffee to brew. “I still can’tbelieve she gave me the deed to her house for Christmas. I’m sure my jaw dropped to the floor when I opened the envelope.”
He smiled. “It was definitely a very generous gift.”
“Later, when I was alone with Dad, I asked him what he thought about it. I mean, he’s her brother. If anyone should have inherited the house, it’s Dad.”
“What did he say?”
“He’s happy for me to have it.” Bashfulness came over me as I looked at Jonas, but I didn’t turn away. “Especially now. Secrets brought me to Oak Ridge six months ago, but you’re the reason I want to come back.”
He reached for my hands. “I know we have a lot of things to work out, logistics being one of them, but there isn’t anything we can’t overcome together.”
We kissed again.
“I have something cool to tell you,” I said, grinning, “but I didn’t want to share it over the phone. It’s too juicy and wonderful.”
He laughed. “That sounds interesting.”
“Do you remember Aunt Mae telling us about the young man she dated during the war?”
Jonas nodded. “She broke things off with him because she felt guilty for what she was doing.”
“Well, he lives just outside of Washington, DC.”
His brow rose. “How do you know that?”
“It’s the craziest thing. Dr. Baca has a friend who teaches history at Georgetown. Last semester he invited guest speakers to talk to the students about the Manhattan Project. Dr. Baca suggested I contact his friend and get the names of the guest speakers, with the hope of interviewing them.”
Jonas squinted. “You’re not going to tell me—”
“Retired Lieutenant Colonel Garlyn Young was among them. Of course, I had no idea who he was. I contacted him, told himabout my research, and asked if he’d be willing to talk to me. He said he was going to be in Boston during the holidays, so I invited him to the house.” I grinned. “He and Aunt Mae saw each other again for the first time in thirty-something years.”
Jonas’s mouth gaped. “What was Mae’s reaction?”
