Page 8 of Pages of My Heart
“I promise. Now go.”
Thomas cups his face with both hands and connects their lips, pressing firmly before pulling away and heading out of the alley. Charlie doesn’t dare watch him go for fear that he will chase after him. Instead, he leans against the wall and wraps his arms around himself.
At this moment, he only feels happiness, but he knows the darkness will soon creep back in and the reality of what he has done will take hold. But for now, he closes his eyes and catalogs every look, every kiss, and every touch.
Chapter 5
September 3rd, 1943
To my beloved Charlie,
When your letter arrived, I could not move from the mailbox. I just held the envelope in my hands and wept right there on the front lawn. When I finally made it inside, I took it to our bedroom and climbed into bed. I imagined your voice saying the words to me as if you were right there in my arms. I have read it so many times the paper is wearing thin.
Lately, I find myself talking to you out loud when I’m at home. If anyone saw or heard they would think I had gone crazy, but it helps me. I imagine you are in the next room, and I call out to you and tell you what’s happened at school that day. At night, I whisper to you in the dark. I know it’s stupid, but it comforts me. Charlie, I miss you so dreadfully.
But enough of my melancholy. I want to answer all of your questions and respond to your news, but first I must let you know—Evie has had her baby! I know her letter may reach you before mine, but it is the most exciting thing to happen in so long and it has given me some hope. Charlie, he is a Miller through and through. They named him Jonathan Charles Wright.Jonathan after his paternal grandfather and, of course, Charles after you. It took great restraint not to cry in front of Evie when she told me.
Little Johnny cries so forcefully, big blue eyes—the same color as yours—full of so much emotion. You can tell he’s an old soul. He’s got a full head of pitch-black hair and the chubbiest legs you ever saw. I told Evie I would be honored to act as an uncle on your behalf until you returned, but she told me I already am, and always will be, part of Jonathan’s family. I was cradling him in my arms when she said it, and I had to turn away and pull myself together.
Don’t be angry when I say this, but I wish we could have a child of our own, as impossible as that may be.
Evie says that Richard is an overwrought father, and she’s constantly having to tell him not to hover around so much. Sometimes I worry they are mismatched, and that Evie is unhappy in the marriage. I hope I’m wrong. I will visit as often as I can and talk to little Johnny about his Uncle Charlie so he knows all about you.
I’ve further settled into my new position and find I am enjoying it somewhat. I miss being in the classroom with the children, but I visit the classrooms often, much to the chagrin of the teachers, and that keeps me informed of everyone’s progress. I am very busy, and for that I am thankful, otherwise my mind would be forever with you. It is a reprieve for eight hours of the day at least.
Lieutenant Stone sounds like an excellent commanding officer, and I’m glad to hear he is not like some of the drill sergeants you had to endure at training. Henry Wilson must resemble George down at Jimmy’s—always pullingpranks and acting the fool. But if he’s good for a laugh, then I’m happy for it. Billy Johnson sounds like a great man to have on your flank in a fight. People seem to always hate what is different in this world, and I will never understand it. But Charlie, do not get on the wrong side of the men in your platoon! Your life may depend on them! You know you have a short fuse, and there is a time and place, and where you are right now is NOT it. I’m not saying don’t stand up for Johnson, but just be careful.
Before I forget to tell you, I dropped into Jimmy’s and passed on your regards to all the boys. They teased me about coming down, insinuating and implying certain things. I’m not sure I should go again. I don’t want to jeopardize your position there—I know you want to return to the garage once the war is over. But they were all happy to hear you are doing well.
What is it really like out there on the battlefield? The news reports focus on the victories, but you must have seen things you wish you hadn’t. Or does it fill you with pride to be a soldier and kill the enemy? I know you said you don’t want me to know, but I do! I want to understand what you are going through. Don’t shield me from it. The less I know, the more I worry. Here I am, safe, sleeping in a comfortable bed, and you’re likely sleeping in a trench in the cold mud. Please Charlie, this is not the time to protect me. I want to be there with you, even if it’s only through these letters.
Your birthday passed and you turned 26 without me. Did you tell the boys in your platoon, or did you keep it to yourself? I made you a cake and lit a candle. I stood in our kitchen and sang happy birthday to you and wondered if somehow you could hear me. I hope youknow I thought of you even more than I normally do on that day.
It made me think of your 21st birthday in ’38. Do you remember? I’d been working extra shifts at the diner for weeks on end, but you didn’t believe me and kept accusing me of fooling around behind your back. Then on your birthday I surprised you with the trip to South Haven and we stayed the night in that motel room. It was the first time I felt completely at ease—away from everyone we knew, with a lock on the door. An entire night together. You don’t know this, but I woke up early the next morning and watched you sleep. You look so young and soft when you sleep, my love, and back then I barely had the chance to see it. Or to wake up with you in my arms and run my hands through your hair and feel the warmth of your breath upon my skin. It was a perfect night, making love to you over and over again. We were so young then, still trying to figure out how to live in this unforgiving and judgmental world. I guess we still are.
Charlie, you can trust me. I will never stray, no matter how long you are gone. I want to live all my days with you as the only one who knows me that way. After 6 years together, you still set me on fire with your touch. Sometimes, with just a look. Yes, I know you think I’m overly romantic, but I don’t give a damn. Charlie Miller, I will love you for 60 more years—longer, if God will grant it. I am trying to stay strong for you. Please don’t worry about me. My desire to see your beautiful face forces me out of bed each morning, because for every day that passes, I am that much closer to having your lips upon mine once again. I drift off to sleep with my memoriesof you, of us.
It’s very late now, and I should try to get some rest. I’ll eagerly await your next letter. Think of me, as I do you. I love you with all my heart. I pray that this war will soon be over, and then you’ll be home safe and sound in our house, in our bed.
All my love,
Red xxx
Chapter 6
November 1937
Thomas
Thomas’s pace slows as he approaches Jimmy’s Garage late Friday afternoon, every hard-earned breath evidence of the unease that has been afflicting him all week. The tightness in his lungs worsens as he walks past the shop’s large bay doors toward the office. He doesn’t know how Charlie will react to his coming here, doesn’t know if he’s making a horrible mistake. The odds feel stacked against him, like trying to win a cheap stuffed bear from a rigged carnival game, but there is the smallest window of opportunity before him, and he is determined to reach for it, whatever the cost.
Last Saturday night he had arrived at the club early, too jazzed up to wait around at home. But ten o’clock came and went, then eleven, then twelve. Several men approached him where he sat alone at the bar, but he gave them no heed, his eyes remaining glued to the door. But Charlie never materialized. Finally at one o’clock, with the weight of disappointment enveloping him like a dank, sodden blanket, Thomas had placed his hat upon his head and taken his leave.
Charlie had promised him. Had he lied?
The following day, Thomas prayed in church for guidance. It seemed absurd to pray to a God that saw him as a sinner, but the sad truth was he had no one else to talk to. As always, God remained silent, the rejection bitter on Thomas’s tongue and damn near impossible to swallow.
Some desperate part of him half hoped he would walk out of class on Monday and there Charlie would be, cigarette dangling from his lips and explanation ready at hand, but Thomas saw no sign of him. He was disappointed on Tuesday too.
