We've reached the second to last chapter of this book! I'm not quite sure what to think of this one, I didn't realise how long it was until I copied it into the editor here and I had some trouble getting the mood right on a few scenes... let me know what you think. And bonus points to those who can guess where the title comes from! :)
The next chapter is going to be an epilogue that's going to show what the women get up to over the course of their lives (inspired by the voice-over during the baseball scene in canon), so this is really the last "story" chapter.
As always, thank you so much for reading and for your lovely comments, it's such a joy to read your thoughts and reactions. I hope you enjoy this chapter and stay tuned for the finale!
24 June 1946
Mia had never been close with her oldest brother, Jonas. The age gap of 8 years between them was widened by their vastly differing natures. He had inherited the Italian temper from their father's side of the family and where he was energetic, bossy and opinionated, Mia was shy around strangers and reserved around friends.
Even as children, Jonas thought his youngest sister was boring, timid and odd whereas Mia saw her eldest brother as a high-handed bigmouth who put too much stock in his own opinions. Little had changed in that regard during the five years where Mia and Sebastian remained in Germany with their mother after the three older Arricante siblings had already moved to the US with their father. The rift was all the more apparent once the family was reunited; a confident 22-year-old comfortably settled in his new home and life contrasting starkly against a guarded 14-year-old who was still adjusting to a different culture after fleeing from an oppressive totalitarian regime.
During the war, Jonas hadn't sent her a single letter. He had disapproved of her decision to join up and had not been quiet about it. The last words he had spoken to her before she'd left for basic training had been "Even if you make it through training, they'll never accept you. They'll think you're a spy or a traitor or both."
Mia hadn't said anything in return.
A month after Mia had returned home, they had seen each other again for the first time at Letizia's wedding. For the sake of their sister, they had kept their distance as best possible and hadn't talked to each other much beyond stilted pleasantries. Jonas had made some comments to others here and there, but never purposefully in Mia's earshot and when she'd happened to overhear him, she had bitten her tongue and walked away, determined not to ruin the mood on her sister's special day.
7 months later, the same unspoken agreement existed between them when the entire family came together to celebrate the 30th wedding anniversary of Giuliano Arricante and Marion Arricante née Ritter as well as the first birthday of Katharina's second child, Lisa. There wasn't as much space to avoid each other as there had been at Letizia's wedding, though, and it was for two weeks instead of just one day. The 3-bedroom house had already been small for their family of seven, but with 11 adults, 1 teenager, 1 child, 1 toddler and 1 infant, it was well and truly cramped.
Although she was used to tight quarters and a lack of privacy, Mia was glad that she, Sebastian and their two cousins had relocated to sleep in the attic. It was draughty and dark, but through the attic window, they could get onto the roof and enjoy the peace. They sat out there almost every night, sometimes talking, sometimes quiet, the adults smoking.
.
Three nights after the anniversary party, they played cards while rain drummed against the roof right over their heads. In the dim light of the single lightbulb in the attic, Sebastian studied his sister where she sat cross-legged on his right. "Mia?"
"Hm?", she made, looking up from her cards.
"What's Jonas' problem?"
Adrian snorted. "That's a long list", he muttered, flicking a card into the middle.
Giving him a light shove, Mia turned to her little brother and asked: "What do you mean?"
"You know what I mean."
"He's an asshole", Rolf clarified.
Mia shrugged and put down a card. "We've never gotten along."
"Yeah, but it's worse since you got back."
"Probably because I proved him wrong." A small smile appeared on her lips. "And because I don't care about his opinion anymore."
"How did you prove him wrong?", Adrian wanted to know.
But Mia just shook her head, unruly brown strands swaying and shifting with the motion like feathers in a gentle breeze. "It doesn't matter."
"Komm schon" wheedled Sebastian, eager for what he thought would be a bit of entertaining gossip that he could needle his eldest sibling with.
"It's a long story and it's late. Basti, are you gonna play? It's your turn."
Pouting half-heartedly about not getting to hear the story, the teen made a show of heaving a sigh, squinting at his cards and eventually playing his turn.
Cramped spaces and the rift between Jonas and Mia weren't the only causes for tension, however. The ongoing war crime trials in Nuremberg made people quick to call anyone of German nationality a Nazi. Anger and distrust ran high, victor's pride and disdain spurred on by the horrors unveiled during the trials.
The day before little Lisa's first birthday, Marion sent her two youngest to the grocery store for a few last-minute purchases. Rolf and Adrian tagged along so they could post a few letters, but also to get out of the house. Johnny, Jonas' 7-year-old son, begged to be allowed to go as well.
Jonas couldn't refuse his son, even if he was reluctant to give his permission, unlike his wife, who smiled indulgently and said: "He'll be in good hands, dear."
His pursed lips spoke volumes, as did the way he met Mia's deep blue gaze across the room with crossed arms and a forbidding stare. She barely reacted beyond the tiniest twitch of an eyebrow and the corner of her mouth.
.
Pulling up to the curb a few steps away from the post office, Rolf let the engine idle as he and his brother got out and Mia slid behind the wheel.
"We'll walk to the store and meet you there", he said.
"Alright."
He stepped back and Mia steered the car back into the light mid-afternoon traffic, glancing in the mirror when Johnny wondered a bit too innocently: "Does the store have candy?"
Sebastian perked up.
She chuckled softly. "You can choose something when we have everything else."
They cheered.
.
Between the three of them, it didn't take long to get everything on the shopping list. Selecting what candy to buy, however, that was another story. Mia picked a Hershey bar for herself, but the boys needed several minutes of deliberation and back-and-forth before Johnny settled on some candy cigarettes and Sebastian on a packet of M&Ms.
"Can I pay for mine?", Johnny asked.
"Sure." Mia fished a handful of coins out of her pocket and dropped them into his palm. "Here", she said, handing him her Hershey bar. "You can pay for mine, too."
The boy beamed and bounced on the balls of his feet. Mrs Williams, the store owner's wife, gave him a benevolent smile over the cash register and waited patiently as he counted out the change to pay for the candy. Meanwhile, Mia hefted their bag of purchases onto her hip and glanced at her watch. Rolf and Adrian were probably waiting by the car. Thanking Mrs Williams, she ushered the boys outside.
The car sat undisturbed in its parking spot. No sign of her cousins. She looked down the road, expecting to see of them walking towards the store. Again, nothing. A frisson of unease slithered down her spine and curled up in her stomach.
"Maybe they ran into Judy Millner", Sebastian suggested with a teasing grin. "Adrian is pretty taken with her."
Or maybe the post office was unusually busy this afternoon, that's why they hadn't caught up with them yet. She made a noncommittal noise at the back of her throat and, after a last searching look down the street, shrugged. "We'll meet them on the way."
.
As they drove back the way they had come, she scanned the street methodically, discerning gaze sweeping over people and cars, checking windows, building entrances and side streets.
Movement in the shadows of an alleyway drew her attention. Catching glimpses of a scuffle, she instinctively tensed and pulled the car to the curb, eyes still on that alley. A flash of blue plaid. Then, the shadowed outline of a familiar figure stumbling and getting dragged out of sight.
Uttering a curse, Mia sprang into action.
"Stay in the car", she ordered, tossing the keys to her startled little brother, who caught them reflexively. "Lock the doors."
"What? But-"
"What's going on?", Johnny asked.
She was already out of the car. "Stay here", she called over her shoulder, racing towards the fight.
"Mia! Wai-"
Sebastian's bewildered call abruptly cut off as the car door slammed.
As she sprinted across the sidewalk and into the alley, she assessed the situation. Her two cousins against five young men in their early to mid-twenties. Rolf had blood on his face. Two of the men were pinning his arms behind his back and a third – a stab of horrified consternation shot through her when she recognised him – had just punched him in the ribs. Adrian was wrestling with the other two. The guy in front of Rolf prepared to take another swing.
"Hey!"
The shout cut through the air like the crack of a whip. Seven heads swivelled. A sudden longing for the grounding sturdiness of jump boots welled up inside her, but she pushed it aside.
With their opponents momentarily distracted, Rolf and Adrian wasted no time pressing the advantage. Throwing himself to one side, Adrian knocked one man off-balance and into the wall, then flipped the other over his shoulder. The guy hit the dust with a grunt and stayed down, the wind clearly driven from his lungs. Rolf yanked one arm free and promptly drove it into the gut of the brunet whose grip he'd just escaped. With a pained "Oomff", the man bent double.
In the few seconds it took for her cousins to turn the tables, Mia had closed the distance and was immediately by Rolf's side when he teetered. She steadied him, all the while keeping her eyes on the man in front of her, who was an old friend of Letizia's.
"How can you defend them?", he demanded, staring at her in angry incredulity. "You of all people! They're the enemy!"
Cold washed through her like someone had emptied a bucket of well water over her head. "You have no idea what you're talking about."
A fierce scowl on his face, Adrian made his way over to his brother and cousin, wiping blood from his nose.
"Weg hier", he growled.
Behind them, his sentiment was echoed by the man he'd shoved into the wall. "Let's get out of here."
.
Mia half expected to hear gunfire and explosions as they made a beeline for the car. Adrenaline buzzed in her veins. Sebastian unlocked the doors and came tumbling out of the passenger seat, wanting to help but unsure how. He stared at the blood and bruises on his cousins' faces.
"It's alright, Basti", Mia said, reassuring him with a little smile. "It looks worse than it is."
"O-okay." Relieved, he slipped back into his seat.
Adrian passed her, saying: "I'll drive."
She flicked an assessing gaze over him, then nodded. Opening the back door, she waited for Rolf to ease himself into the car, then slid in after him.
"Let's go."
As the car peeled away from the curb, Mia unceremoniously fished out the clean handkerchief she knew Rolf kept in his pocket and put it in his hand. "Put pressure on that", she instructed. "Do you feel dizzy or sick?"
"No." He obediently pressed the handkerchief against the bleeding gash on his forehead.
"Is your vision blurred?"
"A little."
She hummed in acknowledgement and had just leaned forward to get a look at his pupils when Adrian swerved abruptly to avoid a pothole. She pitched forward, catching herself instinctively with one arm on either side of her cousin to stop him from getting thrown out of his seat.
Rolf groaned, the handkerchief dropping into his lap as he braced himself.
Shifting upright again, she pressed the makeshift bandage back against the wound and aimed a question at Adrian. "Sag mal, wo hast du denn fahren gelernt?"
"Im Krieg, genau wie du", he retorted cheerfully, grinning when it made her snicker and Rolf laugh.
Sebastian and Johnny looked between them in confusion, not understanding what was funny about Mia asking where Adrian had learned to drive and Adrian's response of "In the war, just like you". But neither of them wanted to ask since it had lightened the tension in the vehicle considerably. If the adults were joking, things couldn't be so bad.
The Arricante household dissolved into chaos the moment the five of them came back, the two grown men dishevelled and battered, Mia between them with blood on her hands and errant drops splattered on her clothes.
With a horrified shriek, Christina rushed forward to embrace her son and check him for injuries. Johnny squirmed and repeated "I'm fine, Mom, I'm fine" ten times over.
Katharina and her husband Walter swiftly picked up their two little children and carried them out of the room.
Letting Mama take the groceries from him, Sebastian watched in a mixture of awe, surprise and eye-opening realisation as his sister, quiet unassuming Mia, who preferred to make as little fuss as possible over anything, took charge. With the ease and confidence of someone who knew what they were doing so well that they could do it in their sleep, she manoeuvred through the crowd of their shocked relatives and got Rolf and Adrian to sit down in the living room.
"Letizia, can you grab the bag from under my bed?", she asked, her voice somehow audible even over the cacophony of questions about what happened. "Someone get me some washcloths and water."
Sebastian hurried to fetch washcloths from the bathroom. Coming back, he passed Christina and Johnny on the stairs. The 7-year-old was talking a mile a minute as his mother shepherded him to the room they were staying in, excitedly telling her about the candy Mia had let him buy and how brave she'd been and that he hadn't even been scared.
"That's nice, darling", Christina said faintly. "But best not tell Daddy that, alright? You know how he gets about Aunt Mia."
He's an ass to her is what you mean, he thought to himself, thinking of the look of contempt Jonas always wore when he talked to Mia, all the disparaging remarks he had made about her when she'd been away.
.
Out of all his siblings, Sebastian had always been closest to Mia, by virtue of having grown up together. He'd been barely more than a toddler when his father and oldest siblings had left Germany, so when their family reunited in 1938, they might as well have been strangers. He only had a few vague memories of them before coming to America and if it weren't for the pictures they occasionally sent with their letters, he wouldn't have recognised them.
Mia on the other hand had always been there.
Walking to school with him. Sharing the candy she'd bought with her pocket money. Giving him piggyback rides. Reading to him when he was sick, storybook after storybook. Listening to him chatter away with a soft smile on her face.
When things had gotten worse and Mama had worked late into the night, she'd made him laugh and chased away his nightmares. When the police had searched their apartment, she'd stood protectively in front of him and lied, straight-faced and unflinching. When he'd been restless and bored on the ship, she had played with him for hours.
.
Shaking himself out of his thoughts, Sebastian bounded down the remaining steps. Back in the living room, he found the rest of the family hovering around the couch. Papa sat in his customary chair, muttering under his breath and wringing his hands. Mama, sitting on the armrest, patted his shoulder soothingly. Letizia leaned against the windowsill, her husband Randall having an arm wrapped around her.
Predictably, Jonas stood in the corner and scowled at Mia, who paid him no mind whatsoever. She was busy inspecting the gash on Rolf's forehead.
"How bad is it?", Papa asked, eyeing the bloodied handkerchief she had dropped onto the coffee table, which was cluttered with various medical supplies – bandages, cotton swabs, a dented suturing kit.
"The bleeding stopped", she said. "And it's not too deep, so it won't need stitches."
As she leaned over to wet a washcloth, Rolf aimed a crooked grin at his uncle and the room at large and offered: "I've had worse."
Adrian snorted and then winced. From his perch on the arm of the couch, Sebastian could see Mia's eyes briefly flicker over to him, but the corners of her mouth remained quirked up in amusement.
Letizia cleared her throat, breaking the moment of levity. "So, uh… what happened?"
Sebastian listened to Rolf and Adrian's account of the fight and the events leading up to it but was more interested in watching Mia as she patched up their injuries. In under a minute, the gash on Rolf's forehead was sprinkled with a white powder – "Sulfanilamide", the stencilled writing on the packet said – and covered with a light bandage. When Adrian's split lip started bleeding again, a wad of gauze appeared in her hand seemingly out of the blue. She moved with unhurried purpose, her touch sure but gentle as she cleaned cuts and abrasions, wiped away drying blood and gingerly prodded at bruises and swellings.
"–knew who we were and that we were in the Wehrmacht", Rolf was saying, rubbing distractedly at the bridge of his nose. "They called us Nazis and murderers, they pushed us, we pushed back…" He shrugged.
A beat passed as they processed his words and pieced together the reason why the brothers had been attacked.
Mama deflated with a sigh, her brows creased and eyes sad. Papa shot to his feet and agitatedly paced back and forth, gesturing wildly as he ranted in Italian. Jonas seethed and sputtered like a boiling tea kettle. Christina, who had joined them after telling Johnny to entertain himself in their room while the adults talked, frowned. Letizia shook her head in disgust, leaning into her husband's embrace, while Randall looked dismayed.
The war's supposed to be over, Sebastian thought bitterly, wrapping his arms around himself. He knew it wasn't that easy, he wasn't stupid and he wasn't deaf. He heard what others were saying at school about Germans and he knew a lot of people were outraged and angry about what the Nazis had done. He couldn't blame them, it was sickening and made his blood boil and when he thought about it too much, he always got caught between wanting to scream, throw up or cry. But Rolf and Adrian had had no part in it. They had tried their best to help the Widerstand, like their parents. Like Mama had before they'd left Germany.
.
Coming to a stop, Papa demanded: "Who? Who were they? Do you know them?"
"Amos Biddle", Mia answered with an apologetic glance to Letizia, though her tone carried notes of disdain. "Elisha Solomon. I don't know the others, but one of them worked in the tailor shop on Main Street."
Letizia stared at her in shock. "Amos? But he's such a good friend! I don't understand, why would he… ?"
"He sees them as the enemy."
"No, no he wouldn't–"
"He asked me how I of all people could defend them", Mia said softly. Her hollow expression made something twist in Sebastian's gut.
Tears pooled in Letizia's dark eyes and she cursed.
"Hold on", Jonas interrupted, taking a step towards Mia. "He asked you? You talked to him? Did he say that in front of my son?!"
"No, Johnny was in the car with Basti."
"You left the kids alone?!"
Sebastian's protest of "Hey! I'm 16, not 6!" went ignored.
Frowning at his cousin, Rolf snarked: "What was she supposed to do, let them tag along?"
"Mia told us to lock the doors and stay in the car", Sebastian put in, rankled at being called a kid and sick of Jonas' constant harping on his sister. "We were safe and nothing happened."
When Jonas opened his mouth to argue, Mama cut him off with a stern look. "Jonas, enough. Nobody was seriously hurt and your son is just fine."
But he wouldn't have it. "Yes, through sheer luck", he countered, voice rising in volume and pitch. "What if one of those men had a knife, or a gun?! What if they'd spotted the car and gone after the kids?! She" – he made the word sound like a placeholder for several insults – "put them in danger!"
.
During his tirade, Mia had calmly packed the unused items of her med kit back into the bag. Sebastian marvelled at her composure, though the blank look on her face worried him. At Jonas' accusation, she made a dry sound at the back of her throat, a little scoff that could almost pass for a whisper of sarcastic laughter.
Their clamouring oldest brother instantly rounded on her, spitting: "You got something to say?! Huh?!"
"Johnny and Basti weren't in danger", she said simply. "And if they had been, we would've done our best to look after them."
"Oh please, don't act like you're a soldier. You were a medic."
"Right because medics don't have to make split-second life or death decisions", Sebastian muttered sarcastically.
Jonas' head snapped to him. If looks could kill, he'd be a small pile of ash on the floor. "You stay out of this! You don't understand!"
"Boys…", Papa warned.
"What and you do?", Sebastian fired back, lifting his chin and squarely meeting Jonas' glare. "You dodged the draft."
Papa began to scold him while Jonas snarled. Randall looked like he wanted to say something, but let Letizia drag him away when she decided she needed some air.
"Na los, Bruderherz, you should lie down a bit", Adrian said to his brother, hauling first himself and then Rolf to his feet with a pained grimace. They left quietly.
Mia stood up as well, gathering up the medical detritus to throw away. Drying blood was starting to crack and flake on her hands, a small rivulet having snaked its way right up to her elbow. Rusty stains ruined her shirt. She regarded Jonas coolly, her deep blue eyes dark with memories. "He's right, you know. You have no idea."
With that, she turned away and walked to the kitchen.
"Better a draft-dodger than a traitor!", Jonas called after her.
She didn't break her stride and Jonas had no time to enjoy the perceived triumph of having the last word when Mama stepped up to him, pointed to the couch and ordered in a tone that left no room for debate: "Sit down. We are going to have a very frank conversation about respect and misplaced patriotism. Sebastian, close the door on your way out."
Pink water swirled above the drain. Soap suds bobbed and spiralled in an intricate dance. Mia watched passively as the colour faded into soft rosy hues and eventually disappeared, the water running clear. She closed the tap and flicked excess droplets off her hands before reaching for a dishtowel to dry them. Through the closed door, she could hear the muffled tones of her mother delivering a blistering lecture.
Behind her, she felt Sebastian's uncharacteristically patient presence. He hadn't said a word since he'd come into the kitchen, but she could tell that the confrontation with Jonas had upset him and that he was practically bursting at the seams with pent-up emotion. He hadn't seen combat, but he remembered what life had been like before they had come here. New laws and rules coming into effect, costing people their jobs and livelihoods. Having to join the Hitlerjugend. Everyone being tense and nervous and suspicious. Books being burned. People disappearing.
She pushed the thoughts aside with a sigh, running a hand through her hair.
"Are you okay, Mia?"
Smiling faintly at the question, she turned around to face her little brother. He was studying her carefully, the fire in his dark eyes so much like their father's when he got righteously angry over something.
"Let's go check on Rolf and Adrian", she said instead of answering.
Sebastian frowned, but agreed with a shrug. "Alright."
.
They climbed the stairs up into the attic, where they found Rolf and Adrian sitting out on the roof, smoking. And in Adrian's case, ranting about Jonas with a passion that fondly reminded her of Louise.
"–damn ironic, the draft-dodger lecturing the combat medic about risks and safety", he huffed with a scowl, scooting aside to let Sebastian sit next to him while Mia settled beside Rolf.
"He also called her a traitor", Sebastian added bitterly.
Amidst the exclamations of indignation and outrage from her cousins, Mia shook her head. "It doesn't matter. He doesn't know what he's talking about."
Even to her own ears, she sounded tired and detached. Miles away, as if half of her was still sitting in that chair in Belgium, watching over a pneumonia-struck friend.
Exhaling slowly, she pulled the Hershey bar she'd bought out of her pocket and carefully pried open the packaging. Breaking off a piece of the melting chocolate bar, she popped it in her mouth, then handed the rest over so they could all share.
Passing the delicious treat to his brother and offering Mia his cigarette in return, Rolf looked at her and said: "He's wrong and a real asshole about it. But I understand why you don't bother trying to set him straight."
Adrian was less inclined to let the subject go that easily. "If he's not careful, he'll end up getting punched in the face."
"Would serve him right", Sebastian muttered. He was also not feeling too charitable towards his eldest sibling.
They lapsed into silence, each absorbed in their own thoughts. Mia leaned back against the roof's slant and looked up to watch clouds drift across the sky.
At length Adrian spoke up again. "Weisst du, Mia", he said pensively, making her turn her head towards him. "I'm glad that you became a medic. It made getting blown up and taken prisoner a little less scary. So… I'm glad."
Rolf nodded. "Me too."
A genuine smile found its way onto her face. The flash of melancholy at the reminder was drowned out by the warmth that bloomed inside her ribcage. "Me too."
16 October 1946
Listening to the story Babe was telling about a co-worker of his, Maxine smiled as she took a sip of her beer. Three months ago, she had come to Philadelphia to spend the 4th of July weekend with Bill and the rest of the Philly boys. One weekend had turned into a week and what had first been a half-joking remark at her birthday party had become reality.
It hadn't been a conscious decision, not at first. But something about this place, these people – bustling, colourful, boisterous – felt so right, so much like home. She'd met Bill's wife, the wonderful Fran, when he had brought her to his place, insisting that she was going stay in the guest room. They got along like a house on fire and Bill, for all he pretended to be horrified, was delighted.
Then, at the picnic/barbeque that was apparently tradition, she had been introduced to the rest of the Guarnere clan and big parts of the Heffron and Toye families. They had welcomed her with earnest excitement and joy, treating her like a long-lost relative. In true Italian fashion, Nonna Guarnere had taken one look at her and declared that she needed fattening up. Bill and Joe's young nieces and nephews were calling her "Auntie Max" in under an hour.
There had been lots of laughter and banter and good-natured teasing. She had missed this, Maxine had realised. Not just them, their friendship or the laid-back atmosphere, but also being able to shoot the breeze and joke around with people who understood. People who didn't need her to say a word to know all the things she didn't want to talk about and couldn't forget.
Before she knew it, a week had flown by and she had to go back to D.C. No matter how tired she was of her father's condescension and how much the upper-class society's preoccupation with appearances irritated her, Maxine refused to miss her brother's engagement party. The realisation that she had stopped calling D.C. "home" had crept up and leapt out at her as she boarded the train.
"Don't be a stranger!", Fran had called from the platform.
Grinning, she had shouted back a promise.
Three weeks later, she had been back in Philadelphia for good. Once she'd made the decision to move away from her family and make a life for herself, it had taken one call to Fran to get the ball rolling. The other woman had been only too happy to help and had, with the assistance of the Guarneres' extensive network, found an apartment for her. By the time Maxine had stepped off the train again, with more luggage than just one bag this time, all that was left to do was sign the lease and pick up the keys.
They had kept it all a secret from Bill and the look on his face when he had seen her leaning against the doorjamb of his mother's living room had been absolutely worth it.
"I don't know if I should slap you, kiss you or salute you", he'd declared, wrapping her up in a hug and planting a kiss on her forehead for good measure.
.
An elbow bumped into her arm, jolting her from her reminiscing.
"Sleeping with your eyes open, Max?", came Joe's voice from her right. The question would sound harsh to the untrained ear, but Maxine didn't have to look at him to know he was smirking.
She shook her head slightly. "Just thinking."
He looked at her for a moment, waiting to see if she was going to elaborate. When she didn't, he accepted it with a simple nod and they both tuned back into the conversation, which had moved on to the antics Spina's three-year-old daughter had gotten up to recently.
"Just keeping up with her is a full-time job", he said with loving exasperation. "She's such a bundle of energy."
"I know how you feel", Maxine sympathised. "I'm only 25, but Christ, the kids make me feel old sometimes."
.
Once she'd been settled in, she had started working as a tutor for what felt like half the kids in the neighbourhood. It had started out innocently enough, helping one of Bill's many nephews with his summer homework at Ma Guarnere's. She'd enjoyed working with Charlie on his book report and once he'd realised that her suggestions made the task easier, the boy had eagerly listened as she'd explained how he could structure his thoughts to build a stronger argument. Word had travelled fast and by the time school began again, Maxine was tutoring more than a dozen children aged 4 to 16 – several of them cousins, nephews or nieces of her friends.
She supervised and assisted when they did their homework, helped them study for tests and practice presentations, and gave reading and writing lessons to the younger kids. Two high school students improved their French under her tutelage and she even taught a handful of interested teens some of the finer points of etiquette and high society customs. Having never really been allowed to frolic around as a child, she also made a point to let the kids have fun once their work was done and by now, it was a common sight to see her play in the streets with the children.
.
Babe grinned over the rim of his glass. "Yeah they're a bunch'a little hellions. The ones I know at least. Jacob and Charlie, used to be those two smartasses were always up to something, giving their Ma grey hairs. But apparently, they haven't been in trouble for almost a month now."
"Good thing you know how to handle stubborn smartasses with pent-up energy, huh?", Spina remarked to Maxine, making them all snicker.
It turned to full-blown laughter when Bill added: "The Army must've thought so when they put her in charge of a whole platoon of them."
They were still chuckling, good-naturedly teasing Bill for the stunts he had pulled that had given the brass grief, when they overheard the conversation between a group of guys at the bar. One man was boasting loudly about all the action he'd seen in the war, detailing over calls of "Get outta here" and "No way" how he'd saved the day by defeating an entire platoon with only a trench knife.
Trading looks, they rolled their eyes.
"Jesus Christ, if you're gonna lie, at least make it plausible", Spina grumbled.
"Fucking dumbass", was Bill's assessment. "The most action he saw was rush orders on stationary."
Maxine took another sip of her beer. "Well, you heard it here first, boys: a knife's all you need against 30 people with guns."
A small lull in the chatter around them made it so the braggart heard her. He angled his body towards their table and asked: "Think you know what war is like, doll? Your husband tell you all about it? Heard about it in your knitting club?"
The noise level in the vicinity sank as people started paying attention to the sudden tension.
Shooting Bill and Joe a warning glance as they both bristled and gave the wannabe tough guy the stink eye, Maxine turned her head and offered a blandly polite smile. "I'm sorry, were you talking to me?"
His eyes widened at the sight of the scar tissue spiderwebbing down the side of her face and neck, but he quickly recovered and remembered her previous slight. Crossing his arms, he sneered in derision. "What happened there, doll?" – he indicated her scars with a jerk of his chin – "Didya burn yourself at the stove?"
Two of his buddies winced. Maxine lifted an unimpressed eyebrow and amidst stifled gasps and hushed whispers from the spectators, there was a collective sharp inhale hissing through four sets of teeth.
"You fucker!", Babe snarled and looked ready to launch himself across the table, Spina not far behind.
Bill and Joe were halfway out of their seats, matching murderous expressions on their faces.
"Don't", Maxine said in her best command tone.
Without conscious thought, Babe settled ever so slightly back into his chair, even as he continued to glare daggers at the guy.
Spina crossed his arms.
"Like hell", Joe growled.
Tearing his eyes away from the man to stare at her in outrage, Bill demanded: "Max, are you seriously gonna let that fuckface talk to you like that?" Neither he nor Joe had moved an inch.
From the corner of her eyes, she noted with interest that one of the men behind Fuckface seemed to come to a sudden realisation – his eyes grew round as saucers and his jaw slackened. Tapping one of his buddies on the shoulder, he started whispering furiously.
With a deliberate casualness, she drained the last mouthful of her drink. Giving her friends a significant look, she calmly got to her feet, smoothing down her skirt.
.
Fuckface – she had no compunction about using that moniker in the privacy of her mind – had mistaken her stopping her friends as cowardice or fear and her getting up as an attempt to leave. His triumphant smirk started wavering slightly when he realised that she stood nearly as tall as him and that she didn't appear the least bit intimidated.
Meeting his slightly glassy gaze evenly, she lightly answered Bill's question. "Of course not, Bill, but if there's going to be a fight, I at least wanted to finish my drink first."
While Fuckface and some of his cohorts laughed like she had just told a particularly funny joke, a few shifted uneasily and the smartest of them started a quiet retreat. So they had more than two brain cells collectively. Interesting.
Behind her, her friends snickered for a completely different reason.
"A dame in a fight, that'll be the day", Fuckface scoffed, tough-guy arrogance mixing with condescending amusement. "Better watch out, doll, you might wrinkle your blouse."
The four male paratroopers snorted, different images of their friend covered in layers of month-old grime, sweat and blood springing to mind.
She sighed. Some people just don't know when to quit. "Look, I know this is a free country, but do us all a favour and spread your verbal diarrhoea elsewhere."
"Say what?"
"Go run your mouth somewhere else, we don't want to hear your bullshit."
Someone in the back tittered.
"Or what? What're you gonna do about it, doll?"
"Oh, I don't know. I'm tempted to rearrange your visage" – her friends voiced their approval behind her, even Spina – "and if you call me 'doll' one more time, I won't be held liable for my actions. Lucky for you, I happen to like these clothes and washing blood out of these fabrics is really rather tedious..."
"I'll punch him for ya", Babe piped up, sounding far too eager.
No less eager, Bill said: "Yeah, count me in."
"Want my jacket? Blood'll come off easy", Joe offered.
Fuckface gaped at them like they'd spontaneously spouted another head, blinking rapidly as his alcohol-marinated brain struggled to process the unexpected turn of events. Shaking his head, he sputtered: "Y-you, you're insane."
Maxine simply offered him a beaming smile, saccharine and dangerous, all teeth and no eyes.
He faltered. Seizing the opportunity to stop their friend from potentially doing or saying something that would escalate the situation into a brawl, three of his buddies crowded around him.
"Tom, you goddamn idiot", one of them hissed as they bodily dragged Fuckface a few steps back. "Those are paratroopers."
"But the dame–"
"Her, too, you dumbass. Haven't you read the papers? Jesus Christ."
.
Satisfied that there wasn't going to be any more trouble on that front, Maxine sat back down. Bill pushed his beer towards her and she gratefully took a swallow before handing it back.
"Shoulda knocked his teeth down his throat", Joe remarked, eyeing the group darkly where Fuckface aka Tom was getting lectured by his friends.
She shrugged. "Perhaps. But" – she affected a haughty expression and her mother's dignified tone – "I'm a woman of class. I abhor violence."
Spina choked on his beer. Bill started cackling.
A heartbeat later, the five of them were laughing like hyenas.
30 March 1947
When they had announced their decision to get a divorce, Louise's parents had signed her childhood home over to her. However, it had taken the better part of two years for all claims and demands to be settled and the paperwork to be finalised. Not that Louise had cared much one way or the other. She'd left her parents to their squabbles and court hearings, preferring to focus on more important things like helping Jimmy move to East Lansing when he'd was accepted into Michigan State University, splitting the more taxing work around the house with Melvin since Gramps wasn't getting any younger, rebuilding the kitchen after a nearby tree had been knocked down in a bad storm, or teaching Hazel how to drive.
In fact, she'd all but forgotten about her parents' house until she found the ownership papers in the mail.
"I still don't know what I'm supposed to do with it", she told Catherine over the phone one evening when she called the older woman to congratulate her on the birth of her third child, a girl named Emily. "I don't need it and I don't particularly want it either."
"You could always sell it or pass it on to someone else your family."
Gramps had said the same thing a few days ago when they'd stood at Long Tail Point and looked out over the water. It had become a habit for them to walk to the Point together whenever something weighed on her mind.
"Mhm… either way, I'm driving down next weekend to sort through everything that's left there." She sighed. She had mixed feelings about the house and was apprehensive about the state it would be in. She hadn't been there in years and her parents spent most of their time in Washington and New York.
"Do you have help?", Catherine asked kindly.
"Melvin is coming with me."
"That's good."
"Yeah. You know, I mentioned it to Joe the last time we talked and he was quite enthusiastic about the idea of – quote – 'breaking some of your parents' old shit'."
Warm laughter rustled through the phone line. "That sounds like him."
"It does", Louise agreed, chuckling to herself. Hearing Catherine try and stifle a yawn, she decided to cut their conversation short and told the mother of three get the rest she obviously needed.
"It's alright, I can catch a nap later."
Rolling her eyes with a fond headshake, she leaned against the wall next to the phone table and said: "I'd think you getting enough sleep after giving birth a week ago is far more important than me fretting over a bloody house of all things."
Catherine laughed and made her promise to call again soon and tell her how things went at the house. Louise promised and they said their goodbyes.
.
On Saturday morning, as the vibrant dawn sky gradually brightened into a clear morning, a dusty blue pickup left Green Bay, travelling south. Melvin was behind the wheel, Louise next to him in the passenger seat and Anna and Charlie in the back. The two youngest had begged and pleaded to be allowed to come along as soon as they'd heard about Louise's weekend plan. Hazel, capricious as teenagers were wont to be, had scoffed at them and declared that she had better things to do than spend a weekend rummaging around a boring old house.
It was still early when they reached Hartford and thanks to the map and Louise's vague recollection of her last visit, they had no trouble navigating the mostly unfamiliar streets until they came to a stop in front of an ostentatious house large enough that it could be called a mansion.
Louise wrinkled her noise and muttered: "I'd forgotten how pretentious this place is."
"Wow, it's huge!" Anna's eyes were wide with awe.
"It's ugly", declared Charlie.
Melvin choked on a laugh. "Yeah, it is pretty ugly."
Walking up the short driveway to the front door – flanked by two pillars and sheltered by a slanted porch roof covered in red tiles –, Louise eyed the old-fashioned door knocker with distaste and pulled the housekey from her pocket. The lock unlatched with little resistance and the door swung open to reveal a sprawling vestibule. The coat rack was empty, the floors clean. The air smelled stale and specks of dust danced in the light.
She sighed and stepped inside. Anna and Charlie took that as the signal to go explore and with their shoes clattering noisily on the varnished floorboards, they scampered past and disappeared further into the house. Exchanging a look, the adults followed at a slower pace.
"Shall we split up?", Melvin suggested.
She nodded. "I'll go check the study and the bedrooms. Would you start in the kitchen and living room?"
"Sure."
"If you see something you like, just take it. I don't think there's anything there I want to keep."
"Alright."
.
She was in her childhood bedroom upstairs, rifling through old possessions she hadn't missed in years, when she heard Anna calling from down the hall that a car was pulling up outside.
Stepping out into the hallway, she went to the window and looked down to see a cab stop behind Melvin's pickup. The passenger got out and her jaw went slack.
"I don't believe it", she murmured even as a grin spread on her face. She pushed off the windowsill and raced down the stairs, Anna hot on her heels, wanting to know who that man was.
She reached the front door just as he came to the bottom of the steps.
"What the hell are you doing here?", she asked, not bothering to disguise the joy in her tone.
"What do you think I'm doing here, you blonde beanstalk?", her best friend shot back. "I told you, I'm all for breaking some of your parents' old shit."
Something in her chest slotted into place, the familiarity of Joe's smirk and snark filling a hole inside her that she hadn't even been fully aware of until that moment. Christ, she'd missed him.
"Well excuse me for being surprised, I didn't expect you to travel all the way from San Francisco for the sake of causing some property damage."
Her smile taking the bite out of the words, she closed the remaining few steps of distance between them and hugged him tightly.
Shortly after noon, everything Louise or her cousins wanted to take with them had been loaded onto the pickup. Neighbours had come to inquire what they were doing and had been happy to spread the word that they could have their pick of what remained.
By mid-afternoon, a steady stream of people bustled in and out of the house, carrying off furniture, accessories and various other items. Charlie and Anna played on the lawn with other kids while the adults kept an eye on things. And in between small talk and fending off probing questions from curious neighbours, Louise and Liebgott cheerfully bickered away. Debating the merits of various kitchen knives in one sentence, they traded creative insults in the next and were arguing about a completely unrelated topic in the third.
Melvin observed them with great amusement, wondering if other people saw these verbal sparring matches for what they were – a way of showing affection and passing time – or if they saw genuine antagonism between two hot-tempered individuals. Though one elderly woman asked him with a knowing smile how long the pair had been married.
"Almost 4 years", he told her.
.
Once the last takers had left and they had the now mostly empty mansion to themselves again, it was already getting dark.
Eyeing the remaining furniture speculatively, Liebgott asked: "What are we gonna do with this stuff?"
Louise shrugged, then seemed to pick up on something in his expression. Considering for a moment, her slate-grey eyes lit up as she reached a decision. "Fancy a bonfire?"
Liebgott's answering grin wouldn't have looked out of place on a shark, Melvin thought.
After a short trip to the nearest store for some supplies – the kids insisted it wasn't a proper campfire without toasted marshmallows –, they built a moderate-sized fire in the wrought-iron brazier in the backyard. Soon, the flames were stretching for the sky, slowly turning broken pieces of opulent furniture into charred ash.
As Melvin and Louise got dinner started, Anna turned to Liebgott. "Can you braid my hair?", she asked. "Louise said you taught her a special braid."
"Uh…"
Melvin swallowed a chuckle. This was the first time he saw the other man taken aback and at a loss for words.
Louise was laughing silently at her friend's startled reaction, though she took pity on him, offering: "The fishtail braid."
"Ah. Right." Quickly recovering from the moment of confusion, he agreed.
Melvin watched them for a few minutes, noting the pleased look on his little sister's face and how gentle Joe was as he undid her pigtails and parted the straw-blonde hair into two equal sections. Glancing at Louise, he saw that she was looking at them as well, but her pensive, half-distracted mien told him her thoughts were miles away.
The fire popped, spat a few sparks.
"So, Joe and I have been married for three years", she said, her voice low so that Charlie, who was poking the fire and keeping an eye on their food, didn't overhear.
Melvin cleared his throat but refused to feel guilty for the lie. "It wasn't any of her business and I didn't want her pestering you."
"Or us causing a stir by telling her to fuck off."
"The only thing I would've worried about is the kids picking up the bad language."
She snickered and didn't bother to argue since they both knew it to be true. Shifting a little on her haunches, she said: "The guys used to joke that we were like an old married couple sometimes."
"You are", he told her with a little smile, leaning over to bump his shoulder against hers. "You clearly enjoy each other's company and it's fairly obvious that you're close."
"Yeah." Her gaze drifted back over to where Anna was sitting perfectly still while Liebgott's fingers deftly wove her hair together. "I really missed him. And I miss the others, too."
.
In all the years he'd known her, Melvin would never have described Louise as 'soft'. She could be gentle and she could be kind, of course, but more often than not, she was bold and outspoken, sharp eyes and keen wit. It made moments like these, where she shared the deep thoughts and emotions running beneath her fiery temper, all the more important to him. She was rarely vulnerable, fear and pain mostly coming out in biting words and angry snarls, so he made a point to sit up and listen when her voice became quiet and thoughtful.
The moment ended when Charlie announced that dinner was ready, but Melvin could tell her mind was still on her friends and siblings-in-arms. Liebgott seemed to know something was up as well. He scrutinised her with a raised eyebrow and after a minute of watching her push her food around on her plate, he remarked: "It's not K-rations. It actually tastes like it's supposed to."
She released an amused huff, mouth twitching into the vestiges of a smile.
Muttering something under his breath, Liebgott prodded her calf with the tip of his shoe. It earned him a half-hearted dirty look which he patently ignored. "Stop thinking and eat."
From the way Louise relaxed, subtle tension leaking out of her frame, Melvin guessed that there was more to those four words than just their surface meaning. He didn't ask, though, content that Liebgott could help her shake off the subdued mood.
By the time the marshmallows were brought out to get toasted over the fire, the two former soldiers were indulging Charlie and Anna's requests for stories. Passing a cigarette back and forth, they told them about a rescue operation in Holland, where they had helped evacuate over a hundred stranded British paratroopers across the river.
Melvin listened and smiled at the laughter and teasing asides, the obvious fondness in their voices as they spoke of their company, their brothers and sisters in all the ways that mattered.
And when it became time to go home – the kids were already half-asleep – and they had made sure all the cargo was secure in the back of the pickup, he took a moment to look up into the star-studded night sky and thank God that Louise had made it back home. With a few scars and a mixed bag of memories ranging from hilarious and heart-warming to painful and terrifying, yes, but also with a tight-knit group of friends, a second family, who she trusted like they trusted her.