Well... guess who's still alive? When I said it might take some time before the new chapter is up, I didn't expect it to take more than 2 months. I'm really sorry about that and I thank you all for your patience. Life has been throwing half a dozen things at me lately - school assignments, a massive restructuring at work, other commitments - and for the better part of a month, I couldn't get a single line written because my brain was empty the moment I opened the document. Again, I'm so sorry I had to keep you all waiting for so long and I truly hope it won't be another 2 months before the next chapter.
A huge thank-you goes to all of you who have shared your ideas and suggestions on what life after the war could look like for the women. I was blown away by how detailed and thought-out some of your responses were and I appreciate and love how invested you are in this story and these characters. So far, nothing is set in stone. I have a couple of story points or "slices of life" picked out for a few of the women, but if you have any more ideas on what they could experience, if they struggle to find a new purpose, get a job, start a family, go to college... feel free to send me a review or PM. I'd love to hear your thoughts.
And now, on with the story!
April 1945 was drawing to a close when a train bound for Washington D.C. left Penn Station shortly before noon. A tall young woman in an Army dress uniform moved through the cars with purpose and an effortless grace despite the big duffel bag hanging from her shoulder, the suitcase in her hand and the healing scars sprawling from the side of her face down her neck and below her clothing.
She kept walking until she found an empty compartment where she deposited her duffel on the aisle seat, stowed the suitcase, and sat down in the window seat. Pulling out a tattered novel, she paid seemingly no attention to the other passengers who bustled up and down the aisle or juggled their luggage. When a middle-aged man with a briefcase asked if the seat opposite her was taken, she flicked her hazel gaze up to him, offered a smile and a courteous "No, please go ahead" and returned to her book.
Two thirds of the way between Trenton and Philadelphia, the woman closed the book and turned to watch the landscape fly past outside the window. A fond, slightly longing look settled on her elegant features as she appeared to lose herself in her thoughts. Her posture, graceful and refined, slouched a little and she lifted a hand to tuck a non-existent loose strand of brown hair behind her ear. A faint smile quirked the corners of her mouth.
As the train pulled into 30th Street Station in Philadelphia, the gentleman with the briefcase rose. The movement pulled her out of her reverie. She blinked, a melancholy expression flitting over her face before she caught herself and became the picture of poise once more.
"Good afternoon, Miss, and safe journey home", he said before stepping into the aisle.
She thanked him with a smile. Once he was gone, she smoothed down her skirt and picked up her book again.
Even though Maxine was happy to be home and looking forward to seeing her family again, it was almost too soon that she found herself getting out of the cab and taking in the familiar view of the Lloyd residence in front of her.
"There ya go, Ma'am." The cab driver deposited her luggage on the sidewalk. "Want me to haul this up the stairs for you?"
"Thank you, but there's no need", she assured him, digging out her purse to pay her fare and a generous tip. He'd been perfectly helpful and had kindly kept conversation to a minimum.
He touched a finger to his cap in thanks and bid her a good afternoon before sliding into the driver's seat.
While the cab rumbled off along the road, Maxine grabbed her bags and climbed the few steps leading up to the front door where she paused and frowned at the brass doorknob. Should she knock? Ring the doorbell? No, that felt strange. This was her home, after all. But she didn't have her keys on her. With a sigh, she set down her bags and headed back down the stairs. For nearly as long as she could remember, the spare key had been hidden behind the loose brick below the third step from the bottom.
Carefully easing the brick out of the wall, she squinted into the hole. "Bingo."
Key fished out and brick slotted back into its place, she straightened and retraced her steps across the strip of lawn and up the stairs.
The front door unlocked with a quiet cli-click and swung open.
Home sweet home.
She stepped across the threshold, the click of her heels on the marble floor of the foyer almost too loud in the quiet.
.
A gasp and a clatter echoed like gunshots through the entrance hall, followed by a cry of "Miss Maxine!"
One of the maids had been mopping the stairs leading up to the second floor. Having turned to see who came through the door, she had dropped the mop in shock when she realised it was her employer's prodigal daughter returning.
"Hello Violet."
Maxine smiled as the older woman swept her into a hug. The stocky maid had been working for her family for 20 years and loved the Lloyd children almost like her own. Bearing Violet's fussing and fretting over her scars and how thin she was with indulgent patience, she assured her that it was alright, that it looked worse than it was. A half-truth because it had been bad at first and had looked that way, too.
"Well, then I'm glad. But we had no idea you'd be coming home today, Miss Maxine! There's nothing prepared."
That was the plan. "I don't mind, Violet. Honestly. I don't want a welcome committee or a big to-do. I'm... I'd rather get settled in peace."
Violet clucked her tongue and Maxine suddenly felt like crying because she hadn't even realised how much she'd missed that sound.
"Of course", the maid said, patting her hand. "Well then, why don't I have Winston take your bags to your room and you can freshen up a little and then stop by the kitchen for a cup of coffee or tea? I'm sure you could use it."
"Sure. But it's just two bags, Violet, I'll take them upstairs myself."
The words were out of her mouth before she could remember that carrying luggage wasn't something "a person of her station" was supposed to do. Violet's startled and baffled expression only confirmed it. "Never mind, force of habit", she backtracked with an apologetic smile.
She stifled a sigh of relief when Violet smiled back, surprise and confusion instantly vanishing, and called their butler.
.
Winston welcomed her back less effusively, but with just as much enthusiasm and sincerity. Tactful and discreet as ever, he spared her scars only a passing glance, but asked if they caused her pain.
She shook her head. "No, they're just a bit tender at times."
Pleased to hear that, he picked up her bags and told her in a conspiratorial whisper that he was looking forward to seeing everyone's reactions to her unexpected return. She stifled a snort but couldn't contain a little snicker, which made the fey twinkle in the butler's eyes dance even brighter.
.
"So where is everyone?", Maxine wondered as she followed Winston up the stairs.
"Well, Mr Lloyd is at work, of course. Your mother and Miss Cassandra are at a luncheon, and Mr Nathaniel is out with the lovely Miss De Mornay. I believe they've planned a meal and a stroll in the park together."
"Hm, that sounds nice."
Her room had barely changed since she'd last seen it three years ago. The potted hydrangea on the windowsill had grown and the first blue and pastel pink blossoms of the season were peeking out between the green leaves. The makeup utensils she'd left behind were arranged neatly on the dressing table. On her nightstand, the crystal ballerina figurine Warren had given her as a Christmas present shortly after they had become a couple sparkled in the sunlight.
Winston set down her bags by the foot of the bed and inquired: "Do you need anything else, Miss Maxine?"
"No, thanks, Winston."
"Very well. I will send Essie up to help you get settled."
She nodded, thanking him again.
With a dip of his head and a small smile, he left, his brisk footsteps fading down the hallway.
.
Essie, the second maid employed in the Lloyd household, greeted Maxine with genuine joy and warmth shining through her usual composed demeanour. Working together, they soon had Maxine's bags unpacked and their contents returned to their proper place. While Essie went down to the laundry room to fetch a basket, Maxine changed out of her uniform, putting on civilian clothes for the first time in years.
She examined herself in the mirror and chuckled. Her old clothes didn't fit like they used to. She hadn't yet regained all the weight she'd lost in Bastogne, and just like everyone else, most of her fat reserves had melted away and been replaced by muscle already in boot camp. As such, her blouse was too loose at the front and the sleeves were too big, and the skirt slipped down at the waist. But the smooth, soft materials were a pleasant change from the sturdy, resilient fabrics of her ODs and dress uniform.
Sitting down at her dressing table, she reached for her eyebrow pencil. Given the state her injuries, makeup would be out of the question until the burns had fully healed. Brows, lashes and lips would have to do for a while.
"Considering I just got out of the hospital this morning, it could be worse", she said to her reflection, offering a rueful smile to this familiar stranger that was looking back at her.
By sheer coincidence, Maxine's mother and siblings all returned home at the same time. Maxine was in the kitchen, sipping a cup of tea and chatting to the cook, who had insisted on making her favourite dessert for dinner. When the front door opened and she heard her brother's, then her mother's voice, she went into the hall to greet them.
Nathaniel spotted her first and after a moment's confusion, he let out a wordless shout of joy and rushed to embrace her, all decorum forgotten. "You're back", he muttered into her hair. "You're really back."
Making a noise that was halfway between a gasp and a sob, Cassandra breathed: "Oh my God. Oh my God. Maxine, is that really you?" She'd dropped her purse, but made no move to retrieve it from the floor.
Smiling at her over her little – not so little anymore, they were the same height now – brother's shoulder, Maxine said: "It's me, Cassandra."
"It's really her", Nathaniel confirmed as he stepped back, his hand lingering on her shoulder.
Blinking back a few tears, Cassandra moved quickly to envelope her in a crushing hug. "I've missed you so much!"
"I missed you too."
"Maxine."
Gently extricating herself from her sister's arms, Maxine took a step forward. "Hello mother."
"Welcome home, dear." Aurelia Lloyd hugged her daughter before looking her over. Perfectly arched eyebrows creased and red lips pinched minutely at the sight of the wounds and scars marring her face and neck. She brought up a hand to cup her unblemished cheek. "Oh Maxine..."
"Mom, it's fine." She pulled back, taking her mother's hand between hers. "I know they look bad, but it doesn't hurt anymore."
The smile her mother pasted on was strained at the edges. "It just pains me to see you hurt."
Maxine swallowed the first response that had come into her mind, grateful when Cassandra broke in to ask if they should gather in the sitting room until it was time for dinner.
Dinner left Maxine with a sharp ache under her breastbone, fiercely missing the simplicity and straightforwardness of her friends' company. Her father's reaction to her unexpected return and her appearance had been shock and horror, quickly if mediocrely concealed. He had spoken her name, soft in a way she hadn't heard from him since she'd been a young girl and hope had flared inside her. Only for it to crumble into ashes when he'd continued: "It is good to have you back where you belong."
Don't be a fool, Max, a voice inside her head that had sounded suspiciously like Bill had chided. The man knows how to hold a grudge and loves to be passive-aggressively disapproving of anything that doesn't conform with his view of how things should be.
Mrs Lloyd kept conversation to light topics, gossip and latest news from their social circle, plans for the next soirée or ball to be hosted, Nathaniel's deepening relationship with Gabrielle De Mornay and Cassandra's countless suitors from a variety of influential and wealthy families. Maxine listened, but didn't speak much, suddenly all too aware that her perfectly polished etiquette had slipped during her time in the Army. Motions that had been second nature before felt awkward and overly precise. She had to remind herself to take smaller bites, swallow before reaching for her glass, arrange the cutlery on her plate just so. It took far more mental effort that the act of sharing a meal with others had any right to.
With the main course, the focus shifted to her. "You've been quiet, Maxine", her mother said.
"I was simply enjoying the taste of this excellent meal, mother."
Nathaniel grinned. "Army food wasn't to your taste, was it?"
"Not at all. The food on base was bland and you'd be hard-pressed to identify what it was. And K rations..." She affected a shudder, making him chuckle.
Her mother tsked and pursed her lips. "Let us not talk of such things while we are eating."
Muttering an apology, Nathaniel's mood and curiosity didn't dim in the slightest as he urged Maxine to share a few stories.
"Well..." She bought herself a few seconds to think by taking a sip of wine. Many of the stories that came to mind first weren't suitable for the dinner table or would fall flat in this audience. "Have I told you about the time in basic training when some of the men tried to scare Helen with a snake?"
The memory bringing a smile to her face, she recounted how the guys had hidden a harmless Garter snake in Helen's sleeping bag, expecting her to scream and panic when she discovered it. Only they hadn't been aware that Helen had grown up on a farm and was used to snakes. The Arizonan had picked up the small serpent, cooed over it and asked if someone wanted to pet it. Later, they had debated relocating it to Sobel's sleeping bag, but that had quickly been vetoed. As amusing as it would have been, the resulting collective punishment wouldn't have been worth it.
.
In between bites of delicious baked potatoes and tender pork chops, Maxine talked about basic training, the way they had all banded together against Sobel's unfair, cruel and at times outrageously incompetent leadership, how they had gone from a mismatched bunch of strangers to a cohesive unit of friends and comrades. She described the experience of their first training jump, the fear and thrill of the free fall, the disorientating jolt of the chute opening, the breath-taking view. She made her siblings giggle when she told them about some of the hijinks Easy had gotten up to in those early days, once everyone had gotten comfortable enough with each other.
She didn't speak of the late-night foxhole talks and sentry duty chats, of smoking together in a ruined town, leaning against each other. Of entire conversations held in looks. Of men and women being indistinguishable under layer upon layer of grime, blood and sweat. Of being able to identify company members by their posture, gait, footsteps or presence alone. Of unfailingly loyal friends, brothers and sisters in arms, who went above and beyond for one another. Of bonds forged between people who couldn't have been more different, or who were uncannily similar, people who just clicked, who grew close over time or who came out of a shared experience with a new understanding of each other.
.
They were halfway through dessert when the inevitable question came. Reaching for his cup of coffee, her father spoke up: "I do believe you haven't mentioned how you came by your injuries, Maxine. Would you care to enlighten us?"
A loaded silence fell. Maxine stared at him, chin raised a fraction. Phantom aches prickled in her side, down her arm and across her cheek.
Nathaniel shifted.
"You don't have to tell us if you're not–", Mrs Lloyd began.
She shook her head. "It's fine", she said, still holding her father's gaze, refusing to be cowed. "I got blown up. We were on our way back from clearing houses in some town in the Ardennes. A faulty mortar shell that hadn't exploded on impact went off next to us. Blew us right across the street, from what I've been told."
"You don't know?" Nathaniel's brows scrunched in confusion. At 19, he was still so young, barely more than a boy, sheltered from the harshness, destruction and pain that had been her reality.
"I hit my head quite hard, since my helmet ended up God knows where when I got thrown. I woke up briefly in the back of a jeep taking me to the aid station, but I remember only bits and pieces of the days that followed."
Which also had to do with the fact that she'd undergone several surgeries, been in a world of pain and dosed with powerful medication, but she decided not to mention that. Her father looked pale, she noted with a small pang of vicious satisfaction. She hadn't forgotten his attempt to interfere with her siblings' correspondence to her nor the way his letters had stopped abruptly after she had refused to come home last July.
A muscle worked in his jaw as he took another sip of coffee, recovering his composure. "Your injuries must have been terrible if you didn't return to your unit", he commented, his tone a shade too even to pass for truly sympathetic. "Unless you were given a choice?"
The "and decided to see reason" went unsaid, but was heavily implied all the same.
Maxine smiled toothily. You're gonna have to try harder than that if you want to push my buttons, Daddy dearest, she thought. She and Frances had talked each other out of their respective feelings of misplaced guilt over being shipped home while the rest of Easy was still stuck in the grind of war.
"Well, serious head trauma and a fractured skull come with side effects such as occasional blinding headaches and unpredictable bouts of vertigo. The shock wave caused damage to my lungs and with burns like mine, the risk of infection was high. So unfortunately, there was no way I could've returned to Easy."
The air heavy with shock and an abstract sense of horror as her words sunk in, Maxine spiked another morsel of cake onto her fork. She'd made her peace with not getting back to her company, though she'd be lying if she said she didn't have mixed and complicated feelings about it.
Cassandra's hand came to rest on hers. "I'm glad you're home", she said, giving her hand a little squeeze, "but I'm sorry you got hurt and that you couldn't come home with the rest of your friends."
This time, Maxine's smile was smaller and tinged with melancholy, but genuine.