Eugene lifted his head back to look up at the bright Louisiana sun. He squinted his eyes in the same fashion he had when he'd done the same thing hundreds of times in Europe. Dozens of memories flooded through his mind: sitting with the rest of the men after their jump in Normandy, the few laughs they all shared, but mostly the death. He had seen countless deaths of brothers, friends, strangers, and enemies alike. There had never been any privacy, any glory, any honor in the way they had died. Of course they had died in honor, but the way Eugene saw it, no one should have to die on foreign soil with a bullet in their head or their guts spilled on the ground.
He sat in the backyard of the small house he had recently bought, under the shade of a large weeping willow, drinking lemonade. Eugene had come home to nothing, he had looked forward to going home the whole time he was at war, but when he did finally come home, he didn't know what to do. He was alone. He had gotten off the train in Morgan City with absolutely no clue as to where he was going. Finally he decided to go back to the place where he was born, Bayou Chene.
There was a saleswoman who led him out to houses around the area, but none of them caught his eye. She had sighed when he denied all of the three houses available, and said, "Well there's one more but..."
He had smiled politely and said, "Well let's see it."
It was a small ramshackle house, all the paint having long ago chipped off. There was a fence that bordered the yard, but it was broken and missing in some places, and the shutters were falling off the house. The grass overgrown and unkempt.
"I'll take it."
She had looked shocked but smiled tightly and said, "Alright, if I could have you just sign right here," he signed, "and here," he signed, "and, right here. And we're all set!"
"Are there any keys, ma'am?" Eugene asked.
"Um, well not right yet. No one's lived in this house for years, as you can tell." She said, "But I'll be sure to send out a locksmith and we'll get that all settled."
"Thank you." He said.
"If you want I can arrange for you to stay in someone else's house until the inside is all fixed up."
"No, I don't think that'll be necessary." Eugene said.
"Sir? It is-"
"With all due respect, ma'am, I've slept in foxholes and ditches for the better half of a couple years, I think I can manage." Eugene said, then nodded to her, "Have a nice day."
She watched him go without a word, looking as if he were crazy.
And hell, he thought, maybe I am.
It had been two weeks since then, and Eugene managed to get the grass under control, and start fixing up the fence. He had bought furniture which consisted of a small wooden dining table, a plush chair and couch, and a bed, from Morgan City, having a truck help haul it to Bayou Chene.
The breeze blew around him, carrying in the scent of the bayou, and caressing his face with warmth. He sighed, and tried to push away the nagging thoughts at the back of his mind.
Why was he privileged enough to be able to sit there and enjoy himself, while there were families around the country grieving over the loss of their loved ones? He sat and drank lemonade, when there were men who never even got to come home. Men who never got to see their children, who would never see them again.
The thought of the nurse flicked through his mind.
"Chocolate?"
He squeezed his eyes shut, holding his hands up to his eyes, dropping his lemonade in the process. No, he wouldn't think about her, not now, not ever. The pain he felt while reliving the memories of the short time he knew her was almost unbearable. She had been a friend, one of the only ones he'd had his entire life, and then she was gone.
"Excuse me!"
Eugene jumped, twisting in his lawnchair to see where the sudden loud voice came from. A small, petite woman with brown hair pulled up into a ponytail stood on the other side of his fence. She smiled and waved, "Hi there."
Eugene stood and walked over to where she was standing, "May I help you?"
"I live across the road," she pointed to the yellow house across from him, "with my beau Heath. I just thought I'd bring a nice apple pie over to welcome you to Bayou Chene."
Eugene smiled politely and said, "Well thank you kindly Miss..."
"Oh, where is my head today?" she asked, slapping her forehead, "My name is Jo Holloway, nice to make your acquaintance."
"Eugene Roe," he said, outstretching his hand to shake hers, "the pleasure is mine."
"I brought you a pie, as I said before." Jo said, "I just thought a person trying to fix this place up deserves some kind of reward."
Eugene chuckled, "Well I can't say that I'm disappointed. Why don't you come on in and I'll fix us up a plate."
"Oh," Jo's face suddenly changed from friendly to cautious, "I probably should be getting back to Heath."
"It's one slice of pie." Eugene said, "I think he can wait five minutes."
"Jo!"
She jumped, and nearly dropped the pie, "I'm right here, darling."
Heath came stumbling up to them and from his days in the Paratroopers, Eugene could tell he was beginning to get drunk, on the verge of sobriety and stupor, "Did ya give him his pie yet?" He slung his arm over her shoulders, and Eugene caught the small involuntary flinch that shook Jo's body.
"I'm just giving it to him now." Jo said, smiling stiffly, "Here's your pie, Mr. Roe, I hope you enjoy it."
"Say, aren't you the Army boy?" Heath asked.
"Yes, sir, I was in the Paratroopers." Eugene said.
"So you jumped out of planes, that's some serious shit." He said, pointing a finger in Jo's face, "Did you kill anyone?"
"Heath." Jo said quietly.
"No, I was the Medic, I saved them."
"But not all of them."
"Heath." Jo said, elbowing him.
A pang of guilt hit Eugene as he looked to the ground, "No, not all of them."
Heath laughed, "I would have been out there shooting the fuck out of them Germans. There woulda been none left to surrender."
"Funny, that's what every soldier said before they were scared shitless." Eugene said.
Heath's face darkened and he leaned across the fence so that he was inches from Eugene's face, "Are you callin' me a coward, boy?"
Eugene didn't move away as he said, "Not at all, sir."
Heath leaned back, pulling Jo into him, "I like this guy, Jo, invite him for supper."
"When do you want him over, darlng?" Jo asked.
"Wednesday."
Jo smiled thinly at him, like she was scared of something, "Well then, Mr. Roe you heard the man, how about it? Supper on Wednesday?"
"It would be my pleasure." Eugene said.
"Well there we have it!" Heath said, "Let's go, Jo."
"Yes darling." Jo said and then quietly added, "It was nice to meet you Mr. Roe."
"Yeah," Eugene said as he watched Heath practically drag Jo across the road, "you too."
Okay so this isn't my first BOB fic, but it's my first story about after the war! So tell me what you guys think and if I should continue! And don't forget, this is the first chapter so it might be a little boring, but I promise you, it does get better, trust me!
