Chapter 48
May Bailey to Jessie Buchanan Apr. 30, 1938 cont.
Grace returned home after nearly two hours. I'm not sure that I like her habit of taking nighttime rambles whenever she is upset. Who knows what kind of terrible accident could be waiting for her in the dark? Not to mention that she could catch pneumonia in weather this cold.
Nevertheless, she was calmer and more composed although still obviously troubled. She admitted to Van that she couldn't stop him from going back to Spain. "I once told you that I promised to have and to hold, to love and to cherish for worse as well as for better. I won't break that promise. If you feel you have to go back, I'll wait for you. I won't be happy about it, but I'll wait for you."
Van stepped forward and began to raise his arms for an embrace. Grace shook her head and said just two stern words. "Not yet."
From the Memoirs of Grace Bailey -
Sunday dinner was unsurprisingly subdued. Honey had obviously told Toppy about the previous night while I was preparing the food. I think it was a baked ham, but it might have been chicken. While we were doing the dishes, Toppy expressed her concern. "I'm glad Honey and Max were able to help you, but you can come to Archie and me too if you need friends. We're past the honeymoon stage and happily settled in now. You won't be intruding on anything."
I immediately felt guilty. "I'm sorry that we haven't seen more of each other. I promise that we will in the future."
"It's alright. You've had a lot to deal with these past two years."
That was true. I envied Toppy her solid, reliable stay-at-home husband. I wished that I could believe the day would come when Van and I were "happily settled in."
Grace Mainwaring to Sally Henry May 1, 1938
… At lunch today, Marjorie went on and on about Ollie's constant interest in get-rich-quick schemes and impractical inventions. "The investments aren't so bad. Being cheated out of that patent made him wary. He insists that I examine any scheme he's interested in before he'll commit a penny."
I admitted that Ollie's attitude made sense. Marjorie was a bookkeeper before her marriage. She helped put together the statistics for the first Silverdome Mining Company prospectus. She knows what a trustworthy prospectus looks like and can probably spot the other kind a mile away.
Marjorie continued. "It's the inventions that make me worry. I hate to see him work so hard on things that no one will buy. Did you know he's invented a bottle holder for cars?"
"A bottle holder?"
"Yes. You can keep a coca-cola or a beer in it while you're driving instead of between your legs. He even built a bottle opener into it. He thinks it's the wave of the future."
"I don't know. I'm not sure that something that makes it easier to be drunk while driving is a good idea."
"Ollie thought of that. He says that anyone stupid enough to drive sozzled wouldn't be stopped because he doesn't have a bottle holder."
"Maybe, but beer or not, who drinks anything in the car? Most people stop for a picnic or a meal at a restaurant when they're on a long trip. Of course, the Americans have drive-ins where you eat in your car, but they bring the food and drink on a tray that attaches to the door."
Marjorie was glum. "This does the same thing only it's just the part that holds the drinks. He also wants to make one that attaches to the seat between the driver and the passenger. I wish he'd stick to being a husband and father and running the garage. You don't know what it's like having a husband who won't settle down …"
Marjorie winced as she realized that her that her foot was slowly and surely making its way down her throat towards the neighborhood of her esophagus. "I'm sorry. That was thoughtless. I don't know how good I have it."
From the Journal of Honey Sutton May 1, 1938
Max had his talk with Van today, veteran to veteran. He used every argument he could think of to persuade him not to go to Spain and fight. He told him about himself and his friends in the trenches during the Great War. They were certain that we civilians back home were soft and ungrateful.
We enjoyed all the food and warmth and safety we could ask for. We hadn't a care in the world. Seeing the terror and anxiety Grace has suffered during the past year-and-a-half waiting for Van to come home showed him how wrong he was. "That woman went through hell for you and your comrades. Do you really want to put her through that again?"
Van was obviously shaken but refused to relent. "I have no choice. The fascists won't be stopped except by force. Sooner or later-maybe sooner if Hitler keeps threatening Czechoslovakia-the democracies will have to recognize that and stand up. Until then, anyone who can buy them even a second's more time to come to their senses has a duty to do so."
Max took another tack. "There are ways of fighting fascism without going back to Spain."
"Not for me. My comrades in the Mac-Paps can't decide not to fight in Spain and not just because they'd end up in a labor battalion if they tried. There are some things you can't turn away from because it isn't right to expect others to face them for you. Maybe if others hadn't turned away in the past my comrades and I wouldn't have to face them now."
Max still disagrees with Van's decision but claims to understand it. I wish I did. In Grace, Van has a kind, warm, loving woman who wants to spend the rest of her life with him. What kind of impulse or sense of obligation could be powerful enough to make him leave her again?
When I asked, Max told me that no one who hasn't gone to war can understand the bond between soldiers who've faced misery and death together. I didn't doubt that they were important to each other, but I couldn't believe that they could matter more than family.
"They are family," Max explained gravely. "Every one of the men I served with in the trenches of the Great War is a brother to me. I would have died for any of them just surely as I would for you and the children. Van feels the same about his comrades."
"Maybe there's something in what you say," I reluctantly admitted, "but he still seems half crazy to me."
Max smiled bleakly. "Anyone who sees war up close and doesn't run screaming for the hills is more than half crazy."
In two weeks: Grace is downhearted. Grace is advised. Grace decides.