May 7, 1944
Aldbourne, England
"Hey, that's my knife!" cried Liebgott.
Guarnere used the blade to cut open his mail before tossing it back at Liebgott's feet. "Quit cryin', Joe. I ain't takin' it, just burrowin' it, you dog."
He tossed through his letters, finally finding what he was looking for. Toye looked at him. "Never saw you so eager to receive your ma's mail before, Bill."
Guarnere smirked. "It ain't my ma's letter, Joe. It's from your ma. Her usual love letter to me." Toye threw his boot at his head but missed.
He cackled before opening the letter.
April 15, 1944
Dear Bill,
You wouldn't believe my relief when I saw your signature. I would be forever embarrassed if your name was Cornelius. Not for my slip of tongue, of course, but for your poor, unfortunate soul having to live with a name like that.
Mr. Grouch hasn't returned yet, I'm sorry to say. Thanks for the tips, but he may be gone forever. It's been rather lonesome without his scowling mug.
You know, before I even read the part about where you're from, I felt a certain edge to your tone. I can completely picture South Philly. Harsh accent and all. Now you may chastise me since being from Boston - also known as the best city in the country - we tend to also have harsh accents, but bear with me. I can make my Bostonian growl charming if given the opportunity. Unless it's baseball season. I can't be held responsible for any foul language during six months of the year.
I am very impressed to find that you're a paratrooper. You fellas have been all over the news back here. To jump out of a perfectly good plane - God bless you. You must be fearless. I can't even imagine the feeling of jumping without harness or wings. You'll have to tell me all about it when you've landed safely.
Your friend Joe sounds like a real character. I'm sure he would say the same to you if given the chance. How do I know, you may say? Truthfully, it is just a guess, but I hope you are. I've met so many men that take themselves so seriously. Do you know what I mean? It's okay to joke and laugh at yourself.
I went on a date recently with someone Martha knew. She promised me that he was everything - handsome, wealthy, strong, you name it. But do you know two things he lacked? Humor and sincerity. I am not saying I am anything special. I am far from it. But to lack the ability to laugh? To speak plainly and with compassion? Needless to say, there won't be a second date.
Bill, I'd just like to add that I am very happy my friend suggested joining the USO letter program. Selfishly, your one response made my day. I had to write again immediately. I do you hope that you receive something in return when reading my drabble.
Stay safe.
Yours sincerely,
Kate
November 1945
New York, New York
Guarnere's eyes narrowed as he watched Kate and Toye laugh together in the common room. He had tried to ignore them, even tried to escape to the quiet of his room, but Nurse Vicky rolled him in, muttering about a punishment for being so goddamn stubborn. You hit the nail on the head, lady.
He looked out the window and into the city below. It was quiet today. He could feel the cold seeping through the glass.
He heard before he saw her in the corner of his eye, standing in front of him. She sat down silently in the chair across from him. He tried not to breathe in her sweet perfume, but his eyes closed as it infiltrated his brain. Her scent was exactly what he always imagined it to be, only better.
"Joe was just telling me about the time you stole some alcohol from an officer in Bastogne," she murmured, trying to keep her voice light. "Said it was the only thing that could warm either of you, but it was hell to pay when - was it Nixon? - found out."
He remained silent, refusing to look at her.
Kate sighed, but continued, looking down at her hands. "Hope it was at least something good. Martha forced cheap champagne on me at New Years. I haven't been able to touch the stuff since..."
"Kate?"
She looked up to see his eyes on hers. Hope fluttered inside her when she heard the softness of his voice. "Yes?"
Guarnere studied her face, raking in everything before he said quietly, "Get out."
It felt like a punch to the gut all over again. She cursed herself for her weakness when she felt it. She stood up. "I'll be back."
"Don't bother."
Toye looked over at Guarnere in the bed next to his. His friend was silent all day, furious with him. To his back, he said conversationally, "Kate said she had to get back up to Boston, but that she'd be back next weekend."
Guarnere ignored him.
Rolling his eyes to himself, he wasn't going to allow his bud to continue this forever. Plus, he was bored senseless. "She's a riot. We both know that Philadelphia is the best damn city in the States, but, damn, she puts up helluva argument for Beantown."
Guarnere only snorted, but this at least indicated to Toye that he was awake and listening.
With a smirk, he continued. "I'm tellin' ya, Bill. Those photos don't do her justice. When she smiles at ya, I swear to God, angels were singin', brother. That also could be because we have only seen Nurse Vicky for the last several weeks, but, hey, I'll take what I can..."
"Shut the fuck up, Joe. Jesus!"
Toye's smirk grew. "You can't tell me that you think she isn't a looker? You've been smitten with her since..."
Guarnere rolled on his other side to face the man, his eyes flashing dangerously. "I said, shut the fuck up!"
Toye held up both hands in surrender. "Alright, alright. I'll stop talking about her."
"Christ, thank you."
There was a long stretch of silence, until Toye couldn't help but needle him again. "That ass though."
"I swear to God, Joe. I'll take your other leg, don't tempt me."
