WW2 Story (Work-in-Progress)

New edits -- look for the pink colored text!

** NOTE: This story is not done, so you may not understand yet what it has to do with WWII/Holocaust (Not that it matters all that much, it isn't the main part of the story...) Be patient! -smile- And please, please, please give feedback, so I know if I'm doing good, if I need to change anything, etc and so on. Thanks!! **

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He seemed a little worse for wear when I saw him getting off the train, but his smile was still as bright as I remembered from three years ago. Had it been so long? He was older now, I realized wistfully, and I was all grown up, a woman. He had realized, too, the way he had to shake off the surprised look on his face when he first saw me. But the surprise quickly wore off, and he called me Kitty, like he did when we were children, and whirled me around in his arms.

I said he looked sharp in his uniform and he laughed while saying he was happy I approved. His laugh was deep and resonant; I’d almost forgotten how it sounded and the thought scared me. Had it really been so long? I noticed the wound on his forehead, and saw it was still fresh by the blood-soaked bandage and the way he flinched when I brushed away a lock of his hair and asked if it hurt much. He took my hand and kissed it instead of answering and said how he'd missed me.

“You’ve no idea what it’s like, day after day with large, smelly, disgusting blokes as your only company. Seeing you is a breath of fresh air!”

“Seeing any girl would be a breath of fresh air to you, Thomas McAllister!” I cried with a wicked smile.

“Oh, but Kitty,” he said, “I didn’t want to see any girl; I wanted to see you.”

I looked up and saw the sincerity in his eyes, and my smile vanished as a warm blush crept onto my face. Suddenly it all felt so awkward. It seemed so long ago that all I did was act coy and flirtatious toward Thomas, and the latter toward the former; yet suddenly his playful attentions caused a new, a different sensation within me. He really was quite handsome... tall, tan, and powerfully built, with chocolate-brown hair and warm, olive-green eyes. The difference in his appearance was clear, and his personality, as well, seemed altered. Could it be that our time apart had changed things so drastically? Did he feel it, too? I didn’t want to believe that my dear Tom was a stranger to me; he was the one person I’d always felt I knew better than anyone; so I pushed the thought away and took his outstretched arm.

We walked together in silence as a light sprinkle of rain began falling to the earth, the two of us lost in our own thoughts. Soon we reached the large house set back in a substantial area of Louisiana countryside and headed down the long cobblestone drive leading to it. We hadn’t nearly reached the house when the maid, Miss Coretta, crashed through the door, wiping her floured hands on her apron as she raced down the lawn, shouting, “Thomas McAllistah, Lawd almighty, yo’ finally back!” She wrapped her arms around him tightly; covering him with flour, then broke away, laughing and crying as she began to clean him off. “Saints alive, look what I gone ‘n’ done! I got yo’ unifo’m all in a mess!”

“It’s all right, Miss Coretta,” Thomas said with a broad grin. “It’s good to see you, too.”

Miss Coretta wiped her eyes and said; “Now you chil’in get inside ‘fo you catch yo’ deaths!” Indeed, the quiet rain shower had quickly evolved into a heavy downpour. “You’s soaked to the bone, you is!” she stated when we were safely in the house. “Katherine, Thomas, you’s march straight upstairs ‘n’ change into somethin’ dry.”

I headed to my room, laughing inwardly at Miss Coretta’s mother-like ways, and changed into a new dress. I sat drying my hair by the window when I heard a knock at my door. “Come in,” I said, and Thomas walked in, now wearing a pair of khakis and a white shirt. He looked more like the old Tom, and I smiled, waving him inside.

He stood in the doorway a moment, looking around my room. He tried to cover up the longing in his voice with a casual tone when he stated, “At least the house is the way I left it…”. I knew then that he had hoped everything would be the same, where he could come home and pick up right where he left off. I knew because it was the same hope I had held onto for so long, even though I knew it wouldn’t be quite so easy.

I took one of his hands, he was near enough now, and said, “It will be okay, Tom, the only thing that’s different is on the surface. Inside, everything, everyone, is still the same.” I had said it to convince myself as much as him.

“Yes, but… I’ve missed so much.” He sighed and sat down on the edge of my bed. He looked at me intensely. “I’d hardly recognized you today. You’re so different from the little girl with blonde braids and frilly dresses I remember.”

And you’re so different, Thomas, from the tall, lanky boy with the wild hair and shining eyes who was always laughing… “I’m still the same, Tom, I just don’t wear my hair in braids and I’ve advanced to wearing a more adult wardrobe.” I smiled, trying to lighten the mood, because I felt an emptiness begin to well up inside.

“No, Kitty, it’s not that simple,” he said seriously. “Three years is a long time. I’m twenty-two now. It feels as though the whole of my life passed me by. Mother’s ill, and I wasn’t here to take care of her. I missed seeing you grow up...” He paused as his voice began to crack. Suddenly he burst out, “I didn’t even get to say goodbye to my own father!”

The fury that entered his voice made me jump. “Don’t torture yourself, Tom,” I murmured. “Rose had Miss Coretta and me to take care of her, and now that you’re home, you can help. James knew you loved him, and it wasn’t your fault you couldn’t say goodbye. He had a heart attack... things like that happen, and there’s nothing we can do about them... Besides, he’s in a better place, you know that.” My lower lip quivered, but I went on. “And, as for me, you have your whole life to see me grow up. I’m seventeen. I still have quite a lot of growing up to do.” I smiled and hoped that my words had an effect on him.

Tom’s eyes remained stormy, although a slight, cynical smirk appeared on his face. “You’re right, of course. You always were the voice of reason, always attempting to shed some light on the darkest of thoughts. You at least haven’t changed in that.” He lightly tugged one of my curls.

I pulled away, and without warning tears welled up in my pale blue eyes. Thomas looked alarmed as I stood up and walked over to the window, twirling my hair around my finger as I often did as a child when I was upset. “If anyone’s changed, it’s you, Thomas.”

I felt his hand on my shoulder. “How so?”

I whirled around, suddenly angry. “You’ve shut yourself off to me from the moment you arrived, avoided my questions and—and you mock me! You’re a complete stranger to me, and I hate that, I HATE knowing things have changed! Didn’t you think that I could feel the same way as you? Do you care so little about how I feel? Why can’t you just let it alone!” I turned my back to Thomas, refusing to look at him, and let the tears cascade silently down my face.

I heard a soft, wounded voice behind me say, “I—I’m sorry, Kitty.” Then footsteps echoed in my ear and the click of the door being shut. I allowed my face to crumple as the tears turned into rivers, and I threw myself onto my bed, sobbing uncontrollably. I hadn’t meant to hurt his feelings; true, he’d hurt mine, but couldn’t I see that what he needed was reassurance, not blame? I continued to wallow in hatred of my actions until the tears subsided, and I just lay there after that, too weary to move.

The clouds had disappeared outside, so after a moment I stood up and silently crept out of the house, into the backyard, and over to the large swing Thomas had built me when I was a little girl. I stared out over the silvery lake behind our house, and thought about the circumstances that had brought me to such a wonderful life—and family.

They weren’t my own, of course, not by blood. My mother and father had been close friends to the McAllister’s since they had all attended the same university years and years ago. It hurt me still to think of my parents, not so much because they were gone, but because I could hardly remember them now. They were simply faded memories from a time when I was young... No more did I cry myself to sleep when I thought of them. It was rare enough for me to think of them at all. I felt treacherous, but I knew that it couldn’t be helped. I had simply been too young.

I was only three when my parents were killed. All that I know of the incident is what was relayed to me through Rose. We had been coming home early from a Christmas party at the McAllister’s home, because we lived hours away. Rose said that when we had left, the weather was calm enough. It didn’t stay that way, though. We hadn’t quite reached the city when the blizzard hit; ice, sleet, and snow were blown about by raging winds. My father most likely couldn’t see what was happening and hit a large patch of ice, causing the vehicle to swerve and run off the road. My mother was killed instantly. Help arrived for my father and me as soon as the weather cleared and we were rushed to the hospital. However, in spite of the efforts to revive my unconscious father, he never woke up. Only my life had been spared.

Rose stayed with me during my recovery at the hospital. I had suffered a concussion and slight memory loss, and since I had no living blood relatives to care for me, God gave Rose to me, who, being my godmother, took me under her wing. James McAllister treated me like the daughter he never had, and Thomas—Thomas was like a brother to me from the start. He was my very best friend. I remember often waking in the middle of the night from nightmares about the accident, sobbing loudly. Thomas would come into my room and comfort me; he would wrap his arms around me and rock me gently back and forth until I fell back asleep. Then he would stay to make sure he was there in case I should wake up again. He was always protective like that. My Tom... he was there for me from the beginning... Why, then, wasn’t I there for him when he needed me to comfort him? He did need comforting. He would have been too proud to admit it, but I, more than anyone, should have realized...

I was so deep in thought that I almost didn’t hear anyone come up behind me. It was the snap of a twig that brought me back to my senses. I knew it was Thomas, and I couldn’t turn around; I felt too ashamed. I heard him say, “Kitty?”

“Have you seen Rose yet?” I asked, looking at my hands.

“Yes, I saw Mother. She was resting comfortably; there seems to be a little color coming back into her face.”

I smiled slightly. “Yes, well, you always seem to have that affect on women.”

Thomas came up behind me and held out a single, long-stemmed rose in front of my face he’d evidently cut from our garden in the front yard. I took it gingerly and felt a lump form in my throat. “Forgive me?” he asked.

I turned to him and slowly shook my head. He looked shocked and hurt, so I quickly said, “I’m the one who needs to be forgiven, Tom.” I sighed and turned back around. “I ignored your feelings and instead dwelled on my own. I was selfish, and I’m sorry. You’ve been through much more than I have, I’m sure, and—“

Suddenly he was kneeling in front of me, holding my hands in his own, and shaking his head. “No, no, Kitty, you are the most un-selfish person I’ve ever known. Don’t ever be angry for being honest with me.”

I gave him a weak smile, and he put his arms around me. For a moment we just stayed there, locked in each other’s arms. It felt so good that I didn’t dare move. However, with a sigh Thomas pulled back. He tweaked my nose playfully and said, “Not another word on the subject, now. We’ll just pretend this never happened?” I nodded and he smiled down at me. “Good then.” He stood and helped me to my feet. We walked, arms linked, into the house just as the supper bell began to chime.

When we reached the dining room, the table was already set and full of side dishes, and Miss Coretta was walking out of the kitchen, holding a plate on top of a small bed tray. She looked around and spotted me. “Oh! Katherine, ya mind takin’ this up t’ Missus McAllistah? I gots t’cut up the rest o’ the roast.”

I took the heavy tray from her obligingly and headed up the stairs. The curtains were drawn, so walking into Rose’s room was like walking into utter darkness. I fumbled around until I was at the windows and pulled on the cord to let some light in. Then I went over to Rose’s bed and set the tray over her legs. “How are you feeling, Rose?”

She said, “Much better, dear. Just tired, is all.”

I looked down at her with uncertainty. “You’ve been saying that for weeks.” I sat down in the chair beside her. “I do wish you would see a doctor.”

Rose reached over and patted my hand. “I’m fine, Katherine. Now that Thomas is home, I’ll be up and about in no time. Just you wait and see.” Her eyes twinkled and she gave me a comforting smile.

“I sure hope you’re right,” I said with a frown.

Rose laughed lightheartedly. “You worry too much, dear! If I didn’t know better I’d think you were the mother and I was the child! Go on, now, leave me to my dinner.” I stood and left her room, closing the door behind me before I went downstairs.

Thomas and Miss Coretta were already seated at the table when I walked back into the dining room. Thomas quickly jumped to his feet and held my chair out for me. I smiled gratefully and Miss Coretta exclaimed with a laugh, “My! It’s good t’know ya still know yo’ mannahs, boy. I guess bein’ ‘round all them men couldn’t break the habit, eh? Did they treat you good over there, Thomas? Ya let me know if they didn’t, I’ll run ‘em down wit’ a stick if they done otherwise. To think, sendin’ a young boy like you to fight a war like that… Makes my blood run cold t’think of what goes on in them places—”

“Boy, I sure missed your cooking, Miss Coretta,” Thomas said cheerfully, but I noticed that his smile didn’t reach his eyes. Miss Coretta must have said something wrong, and although I wanted to find out what it was exactly that made him jump in like that, I thought it best to leave things well alone. Still, it unnerved me a bit, and the rest of the dinner was slightly uncomfortable. We all made polite conversation, carefully avoiding any more references to Thomas about the war, and as soon as Thomas was finished eating, he congratulated Miss Coretta on a wonderful meal, and headed upstairs. I watched him leave, longing to follow him, but knew better of it, and instead turned to look down at my plate.

Miss Coretta was frowning and said, “I really am thick-headed sometimes, ain’t I? Shouldn’ta said anything about him—over there…”

I looked up quickly. “Oh, no Miss Coretta, you didn’t know – it was just innocent conversation. Don’t get upset, I’m sure Tom understood you didn’t mean it.”

She sighed and said, “I just wish I knew that he’ll be okay. War ain’t pretty. I remember the stories my husband tol’ me ‘bout World War One. He’d seen plenty men go t’pieces by the end of ‘em. Some go insane, others…” She saw my alarmed expression and chuckled nervously. “Oh, don’t mind me, I’m just babbling. No, I’m sure Thomas’ll be fine. I just thank the Lord he was sent home early ‘cos of that head injury of his.”

I nodded and murmured, “Yes, and I’m sure he will be fine.” Not too convinced myself, I cast a worried glance up the stairs.

I stood up and began clearing off the table. Miss Coretta followed suite, complaining all the while that I was going to put her out of a job. I chuckled, knowing very well that my helping her would in no way jeopardize her employment status—Miss Coretta was a part of the family. Besides, I knew she enjoyed the company. We talked while she washed the china and I dried it and put everything away. Then, when I had finished, I bid Miss Coretta good night, deciding to turn in early and spend some quiet time in my room, reading, to take my mind off things.

I ascended the staircase, heading to my bedroom at the end of the hall. I stopped suddenly when I reached Thomas’ room; the light was on. I stood a moment, fist poised to knock on the door, then thought against it, lowering my arm. Instead, I entered my room, closed the door, got into my nightclothes and curled up in my bed with Bible in hand. I read first a verse that gave me hope for Thomas: “Though I walk in the valley of the shadow of death, I will fear no evil, for you are with me; your rod and your staff, they comfort me” (Psalm 23:4). I didn’t get much farther than that because my eyes suddenly began to feel too heavy to keep open, and so I sighed and set the book on my nightstand. I reached over and turned off the bedside light before I lay my head on the pillow and closed my eyes.

I found myself awake during the night, walking along the darkened hallway until I reached Thomas’ closed door. His shouts, muffled through the walls, were what had woken me only moments before, and now they sent a chill down my spine. I entered the room quietly and shut the door, turning to him. He was thrashing about on his bed, crying out wildly, so I raced over to him. “Tom... Tom, wake up, please, wake up!” I called out nervously.

Suddenly he stopped writhing and opened his eyes, breathless and terrified as he looked at me. I noticed, however, that he wasn’t staring at my face. I looked down and noticed the delicate Star of David charm dangling from a golden chain around my neck. It had been my mother’s, who was Jewish, and I had worn it always since her death. Quickly I shoved the necklace beneath my nightgown and his eyes slowly looked up, focusing until he recognized who I was. I crawled over him onto the side of the bed against the wall and helped him to a sitting position. His breaths were still raspy, but had slowed a bit. The second time his eyes met mine, I noticed the tears that threatened to spill down his face. I shook my head, face contorted with concern and said, “Oh, Tom...” I held him tightly as his head fell onto my lap and his whole body began to shake with sobs. I leaned forward and rested my head on his, stroking his back gently with a trembling hand as my own tears began to cloud my view.

It broke my heart to see him so vulnerable; he’d always been so strong. And now he needed me, needed comfort more than ever. So I did comfort him, until his sobs had calmed and the tears subsided. Then, when he didn’t stir, I thought that perhaps he’d fallen back asleep. But subsequently he moved away and pressed himself back onto the mattress, closing his eyes tightly. I wanted to ask him if he was all right, and what he had dreamed that made him fall apart like that, but all I could manage was “Tom?” My voice shook with fear.

He opened his eyes to look up at me, then held out his arms, and I quietly curled into his embrace. His arms circled around me and tightened until he was so close I could feel his heartbeat. He was still shaking... Darling Tom! I leaned my head on his chest, just below his chin and waited; only when I was sure he had fallen asleep did I close my own tear-filled eyes. How I wished that I could do more for him to ease his suffering! Alas, all I that I had to give him was myself.

That night I stayed with him, held on to him tight and listened to him breathe, sometimes jumping up at the slightest movement to see if he was okay; but there were no more tears, no more cries and convulsions, just simple sleep. I wondered what it was like over there, what the people had been and were going through. I didn’t know much about the war going on, mostly because I was scared to learn, and knowing how much it affected Thomas made me even more frightened. But then I looked down and smiled at the child-like innocence in his face and couldn’t resist placing a gentle kiss atop his forehead. I had no doubts now: Tom would be okay. Knowing that I carefully slid out of his bed and went into my own to catch sleep in the last hours of the night.

Each night in the following weeks I spent in Tom’s room, at his bedside, watching him as he slept just in case he had the nightmare again. And most of the time, he would wake up in a cold sweat, too scared to speak, and so all I could do was comfort him and wonder what it was he was dreaming. I would wait until almost dawn and then go back to my own room to sleep until late morning. Then I would sit out in my favorite spot in the garden, staring at his window while I waited for him to wake up so I could see that he was all right.

I was sitting in the garden one particular morning, staring up at Thomas’ window when I heard a familiar voice behind me say, “Goodness me! It’s good to know you haven’t fallen off the face of the earth, Katherine Winters!”

I turned quickly around and smiled. “Charlotte. How are you?”

“Well enough, I suppose,” she answered, brushing her raven-black hair off of her shoulders and sitting down. She took my hands and gazed at me, worry filling her dark eyes. “But how are you? Really, Kat, I’ve been worried about you. I heard Thomas arrived home safely. Is that why you’ve hidden yourself away from town?” I nodded. A coy smile appeared on her face. “Of course it is. So where is the handsome devil? I’d like to see the man who’s taken you away from me! Has he changed much? More adorable than ever, I hope? Yes, he must be, you’re blushing. Oh, don’t try to hide it, I know you better than anyone; you’ve been in love with him since you were ten! Of course, who didn’t love that beautiful face of his? I myself couldn’t look at him without—now what is all that about?” she asked suddenly with irritation.

I tried to speak through my laughter. Taking ragged breaths I said, “Nothing, nothing. It’s just that it’s been so long since I’ve been around you, I’ve forgotten what it was like.”

“What what was like?”

“Your chatter!” I began laughing again as she frowned at me. “Now, don’t get angry, it’s a nice change, believe me. I needed a good laugh, too. So thank you.”

She smiled slightly. “Fine, as long as it did some good.”

I nodded with enthusiasm. “Now, as for Thomas—“

“Thomas!” Charlotte jumped to her feet and began waving, which startled me. I turned to see Thomas walking out of the house, toward us. Charlotte looked at me as if to say, “Adorable? He’s so scrumptious I could eat him up!” I stifled a laugh as he neared enough to us to speak.

“Good morning, ladies,” he said, smiling warmly. I was rather shocked to see him up and about so early, and looking so well-composed. I suppose it showed, because Thomas added, “You act as if you’re surprised to see me, Kitty. I’ve been home long enough, you ought to be used to it.” He winked and Charlotte giggled like a young schoolgirl; I simply stood there, confused. It was as if everything that had happened that past few weeks dissolved, and he was back to normal. I couldn’t believe it, although it was a relief to see him smiling.

Charlotte had begun filling Thomas in on the four years he had missed here at home, and so I simply watched in silence, at first amused by the way Charlotte would flip her hair over her shoulder and bat her eyes alluringly in his direction; it was when Thomas began returning the flirtatious gestures that I felt a twinge of envy emerge. Was it my imagination, or was he tugging on her hair? I frowned and grabbed a piece of my own, viciously twirling it around my finger. I was furious. He had played the wounded puppy until Charlotte came around. Now it seemed that he was perfectly fine! I slipped away from the two and disappeared through the garden and into the house. There I pulled a hat from the front closet and placed it none-too-gently upon my head, storming out the front door.

I had only gotten as far as the end of the driveway when Thomas caught up with me. “Kitty! Why’d you run off so quickly?”

“I—I felt like taking a walk,” I said, still walking quickly down the road.

He said, “But Charlotte came all this way to see you! And you just left!”

“You two seemed in a lively enough conversation – I just felt like a third wheel.” I tried to sound indifferent—I even smiled—to disguise my anger.

“Oh. Well, I’m sorry about that.” Thomas simply shook his head and smiled. “Let us know when you’re back from your walk—we’ll be in the garden.” He left me standing at the edge of the driveway. I vainly shot a wounded look in his direction. He really believed that nonsense? Thomas, the one who could see in me what no one else could, took my act at face value? A tear escaped and ran down my cheek before I brushed it away. He only proved to me what I didn’t want to believe. He didn’t want me—he wanted someone like Charlotte. Well, if he wanted her, then he could have her! I certainly wouldn’t stand in their way.

I didn’t arrive home for quite a while; the sun was beginning to set in the west when I stepped into the house. I had decided to go into town so I could be as far away from Thomas and Charlotte as possible for as long as I could manage. I didn’t want Rose or Miss Coretta to worry, though, so I didn’t stay away as long as I liked. All the same, I locked myself into my room and stared out the window, allowing the tears to trickle down my face, until Charlotte left and Thomas began walking toward the house. I sighed and curled up in my bed, a dull headache forming. A few moments later I heard knocking at my door, and I said, “Come in.”

Thomas entered while saying, “I was beginning to wonder what had happened to you!” He stopped a few paces from my bed. “Are you all right, Kitty?”

The concern in his voice made me frown. “I’m fine—I just wasn’t feeling so well when I came home, and I didn’t want to disturb you and Charlotte, so I came up here to lay down.”

A brief lapse of silence ensued. “I’ll let you rest, then.” Thomas walked back toward the door, but stopped just before closing it and added, “And when you’re feeling better, you can tell me what was really bothering you today.” I heard the door click shut and smiled, despite myself. So he had seen through my disguise, had he? I really was becoming an emotional ninny! Then I sighed and wondered what I would tell him that he would believe? Certainly not the truth...

How could I tell him that I loved him?

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To be continued...