The men started coming home in September. Every day a crowd gathered when a train arrived at the station--a cheer went up for each man in khaki that stepped off. Gilbert Ford was the first to return--he stepped off the train, to a raucous and grateful cheer, and with tears in his eyes gathered Cathy Douglas into his arms. Before the teeming crowd he bent her over backwards and kissed her. Everyone cheered and clapped and a photographer from a Charlottetown newspaper snapped a picture that soon became famous the world over. The Kiss Felt Round the World, they called it.
Juliet knew almost every boy that stepped off. Alec Douglas, and Cliff Howard had been in her class at school. There was Cooper Flagg, and Ted Wright. Dozens of men, the same boys Juliet had known--but at the same time, not the same. Each man wore some scars of battle, whether they be physical scars or just a hard, weary look in the eyes. When Mark Elliot stepped off the train he knelt and kissed the red, PEI soil under his feet, and then sobbed so hard and long that his mother had had to lead him home, like a little boy. But no one who saw that could honestly say that they didn't have tears in their eyes, too.
Juliet went to the station every day, even though Allan had written that it might be months before he would come. He really had no idea. Maybe he would surprise her, he wrote, by just showing up one day. I wonder if you've changed any? Allan wrote. I worry that I won't recognize you. Isn't that silly?
It was silly, but Juliet worried about the same thing. Oh, of course Allan would recognize her--she hadn't altered that much. Her hair was shorter, of course, and there was a bit of a haunted look in her slate-colored eyes. Not to mention a persistent frown line that had popped up on her forehead. She must try to relax and make it go away. The war had been hard on them all.
But what if Allan had changed? He couldn't have been through so much without changing drastically. Juliet wondered if she would recognize him! He had gone away when he was just a boy, and now he was coming home a man. Anyway, Allan hadn't said anything in his letters about loving her. He must have forgotten. Perhaps he was betrothed to Andalucia, the Italian girl. Juliet looked down at her left hand. Likely that she had a little, dear ring of her own.
"I suppose I should start thinking of going to college this fall," Juliet said. She knew what she would study if she did: history. She'd finished that biography of Anne Boleyn that Uncle Dean leant her, and also Heroditus, and many other great works. She wanted to know more, to find out more, to be able to conquer and become friends with the past.
"I want to know how we got here," she mused. "I want to know why there are wars--why we can't learn from our past mistakes."
It was so delightful to go into town now! Mother and Juliet and Bea and Aunt Ilse went every day, even if they didn't especially need anything. It was such fun to see the red and white banners hanging from shop windows, and the handsome soldiers kissing pretty girls in the streets. They could buy sugar now, and flour, and coffee, and oh, wasn't it grand! Everything seemed fresh and new again. Aunt Ilse had bought eight pairs of silk stockings.
"I've missed you, darlings!" she cried, holding the packets to her lips and kissing them like a mad-woman. "Silk stockings! I've seen you in my dreams. Juliet, haven't you missed silk stockings?"
"No," Juliet laughed. "I was too young to wear them before the war, and then when I was old enough, there were none to be found."
"Shocking!" said Aunt Ilse. "I'm going to go buy you a pair."
Juliet smiled to herself and went over to join the line at the grocers. She needed sugar, and eggs and butter--she was going to make a cake--Doug and Bella were coming in for a visit the next day and they would have a luscious, plummy, cake--the kind of cake they'd had before the war and hadn't had since!
She listened to the happy chat around her. You could find out so many things just be listening to what other people said when they thought you weren't paying attention. So Gilbert and Cathy would be married. Juliet smiled. Good for them. And Rhonda Perlman had been thrown over by her beau? Good again. Juliet's smile widened--she'd never forgotten what Rhonda Perlman had said about Doug.
She turned her head to find Mother and Aunt Ilse. There was Mother at the bookshop. She waved. And Aunt Ilse was buying up every available pair of silk stockings. She was haggling with the dressmaker's son. And there, over by the hardware store was--could it be--no, it definitely was--!
Blair King! She hadn't heard he was home. He was standing in his normal clothes. Why, Juliet realized that she'd never seen him out of uniform. He brushed a lock of wavy dark hair from his eyes, which were crinkling at the corners because he was smiling. At her. Juliet had forgotten about that. How that smile had caused her to go weak in the knees back in the day! She tried her knees now. No, they were not shaking.
Blair turned his head and their gazes met--and held. He said something to the carpenter, and crossed the square over to her. Juliet stayed firmly where she was. She would not go to him. He walked right over and stood in front of her, brushing the hair again out of his eyes. Up close Juliet could see that the lines around his eyes were not from smiling. They were worry-lines, and they would never go away. His face was tanned all over from spending so much time on the air-carrier in the Pacific. He looked so much--older--that Juliet felt her little white flame of anger give way into something like pity--and compassion.
"Hello, Juliet," he said in that same deep voice.
"Hello, Blair," said Juliet sweetly.
"You look--beautiful."
"So do you--I mean, you don't look beautiful, but you look well. I'm glad to see you, Blair." Juliet meant it sincerely. "I'm glad to see you home so safe and sound."
There was an awkward pause. Neither knew what to say. Finally Blair spoke.
"Listen," he said. "I'll cut right to the chase. I know we didn't leave things on the best terms. I understand the whole story now, and I'm sorry. Juliet, I've always had a soft spot for you, and I always will. We could--rekindle--things if you wanted. "
"What--about--Hannah Ford?" Juliet choked out.
"What about her?" Blair said. "She's sixteen years old, Juliet. I'm twenty-four. I don't love Hannah Ford. I couldn't."
"You don't love me, either," said Juliet firmly.
"No," said Blair. "But I did."
"That was so long ago," protested Juliet.
"I'm lying," said Blair. "I'm sorry. I do love you. I tried not to, but I can't help it."
"No, you don't," said Juliet again, even more deliberately. "You don't because I won't let you, Blair. Everything in that letter that wasn't true then is true now, only not so harsh. I would never have put things to you that way--that was Bea's doing. I'd love to love you, now that you love me, too, because it would uncomplicate things. I've been reading history lately, and I've discovered that we're supposed to learn from past mistakes. That's not something I've been very good at. But I can learn to learn from them. I won't--can't--pretend to feel something that I don't."
The diamond on her left hand flashed as she gestured around.
"Ah," said Blair. "I see. I'm too late. Allan Miller, right? Well, he always had a hold on you. I knew you'd end up with him. I suppose you're destined to be together--even when we were betrothed I could see that you loved him, just weren't admitting it. Well, Juliet, I'm glad I saw you again, and we'll always be good friends. We've weathered one of the most trying times on earth together. I've got to run--we'll sit and talk someday, about everything. When you are Mrs. Allan Miller and I have quite forgotten how to love you."
He leaned in and kissed her softly and quickly on the lips and then walked just as quickly off, hands in his pockets.
Juliet's heart pounded in her throat and she felt a strange, pain in her chest. A bittersweet pain. It was pain over what might have been and now would never be. Even if we do not especially want something, it is disheartening to give up the possibility of it ever happening.
"Maybe I should have said I'd love him again," she mused to herself in her room, later. "I'm sure I could--in time. If Allan comes and says he doesn't love me--and I'm sure he will--old New Moon's going to be lonely--lonelier than lonely."