Sorry about the wait. I got caught up in work and have been too tired to write or do anything. Anyway, the action's coming up, I promise.
Chapter Three: A New Fear
"Steve's gone," Suzie announced when she burst into the Barnes house hours later. The sun already started setting an hour ago, painting the living room in swatches of red and orange. She had managed to check the post office, to no avail. The man at the desk said that he could not give Steve's mail to Suzie without authorization from Steve. Suzie had left frustrated since she did not have the key to Steve's mailbox.
Luckily, the floral shop offered more insightful information. Ever since Sarah died, Steve routinely placed fresh flowers on her grave every month and on holidays. The floral shop owner knew Steve by name since he was a loyal customer. The graying man with large spectacles said that Steve had asked to continue the monthly flowers. The older man did not know where Steve went or why, just that it seemed important.
Apparently, a young, English brunette in a military uniform had accompanied Steve, which was quite surprising, to say the least. Maybe he had finally found himself a girl. However, the military aspect worried Suzie since Steve could hardly walk far without stopping to catch his breath. He couldn't even breathe right, let alone join the military. It sounded suspicious and Suzie worried that Steve was in over his head.
Winnie looked up from her reading, the daily newspaper clutched tightly in her hands, no doubt full of more dreadful news about the war. Nowadays, the newspapers only offered propaganda pieces, lists of the dead, advertisements for war bonds, and depressing stories and speculations about the war. It never contained any positive articles, which given the current state of the whole world, felt fitting. Still, Suzie stopped reading the newspapers, since it created a knot of worry in her stomach whenever she saw the headlines.
"'S a g'wown man," Travis slurred from three steps above the bottom of the staircase. His brow creased and he bit his lower lip in concentration as he slowly lifted his right leg to plant it on the next step above. Clearly, he had just come home from drinking too much - again.
Suzie let out an exasperated sigh and waved her hand in Travis's direction while glaring at her mother.
"Really?" Suzie questioned, bitter at Winnie's lack of response to Travis being drunk all the time. "You yell at me when I go off on my own for work or whenever I wear Bucky's old clothes. Everything I do, you always criticize. Why don't you say something about Travis coming home drunk every night?"
"He's an adult, Suzannah," Winnie replied curtly, the newspaper covering the lower half of her face. Suzie could imagine the frown etched on her mother's face. Mrs. Barnes hardly ever smiled now, but she always had a disapproving expression whenever Suzie said or did something against her liking. "He can make his own decisions."
"So that-" Suzie pointed at Travis, who managed to finally make it up another step "-is acceptable behavior but whenever I do something you don't like, you get all upset about it. It's not fair! I'm an adult, too. I graduated high school and put in more work than him. Bucky does all the same things as me and I don't hear you complaining about it."
"I've complained, you have just never heard," Winnie replied. "Besides, the world will never accept a young woman who acts all brash and runs away from her responsibilities at home. Imagine what your grandmother would think."
"Grandma's dead," Suzie pointed out, probably a little too harshly considering the small flinch at the mention of Winnie's dead mother. Both sets of Suzie's grandparents were dead, but Winnie's mother had lived the longest. After battling cancer on and off for a decade, grandma finally let go from exhaustion a few days before Suzie turned sixteen. Suzie could still see the despair on her mother's face when grandma finally passed away in the hospital, replicated only when Bucky's death letter arrived. Her sweet sixteen did not turn out as sweet as she had wanted.
"Which also might happen to Steve if we don't find him," Suzie added, trying to be more gentle. Given the track record of all the dead (or missing, in Bucky's case) military men in her family - pa, Bucky, both grandpas, and Steve's dad - Suzie did not trust the military to treat Steve kindly. Steve never followed rules, constantly started fights he could not finish, and had no sense of self-preservation. Plus, Suzie felt barred from something that played such a major role in her life. If little, asthmatic Steve, could find a position in the military, why couldn't Suzie? It not only concerned her but made her upset at the unfairness of it all. She knew it sounded childish, that everything felt unfair, but the double standards of it all frustrated her.
"Steve can handle himself. I know you're concerned but he doesn't need us coddling him," Winnie said, her lips pursed as she glared at her defiant daughter.
"We haven't heard from him for months! We should all be concerned," Suzie snapped, all guilt of hitting a sore spot about Winnie's dead mother gone.
Winnie huffed and set the newspaper on the couch cushion beside her with a snap.
"You graduate high school and suddenly you think you know everything about the real world. I know you have always been free-spirited, but this is ridiculous, Suzannah. Snapping at your mother, accusing your brother of being an alcoholic, scaring your sister, and holding onto these delusions that Bucky is alive. You are clouded by denial. It is better to move on and let go," Winnie remarked.
"'Move on?' Move on? You're completely ignoring the fact that there has been nothing of Bucky's sent back and that Steve's been missing for months. We practically abandoned Steve and you're sitting here accusing me of being delusional. If anyone's judgment is clouded, it's you," Suzie nearly shouted.
"S'eve will p'obally be at the memo'ial Sunday," Travis offered from the top of the middle of the staircase. "'S a special church service. Ma told me 'bout it yes'day."
Suzie turned back to her mother. "Why didn't you tell me about this?"
"I was going to but you were too busy wandering off alone. If you keep that up, one of these days, your 'sense of adventure' will get you killed," Winnie said. "Go to bed. It's late."
Suzie bit back another angry reply, deciding that it was not worth it. Suddenly exhausted, Suzie brushed past Travis on the staircase and quietly opened the door to her and Becca's room. Being fifteen going on sixteen in February and sensitive to sound, Becca usually went to bed earlier than everyone else.
Sliding open a drawer on her dresser as slowly as possible, Suzie grabbed her pajamas, washed up in the bathroom, and climbed into bed with a huff.
Staring up at the dark ceiling, guilt crept up on her like a wolf stalking its prey. How could they all be so forgetful? They were too caught up in their own drama to realize that they had not seen Steve in a long time. Steve, Bucky's best friend, a brother from a different mother, a talented artist - missing and abandoned like a coin that fell from a pocket. Someone else would pick him up somewhere, their intentions unknown. Would they use him or would they treasure him? What about that English lady? What did she have planned for him? Perhaps she would take better care of Steve than Suzie ever did.
A small whimper from Becca's bed startled Suzie from her silent deliberation.
"Suzie?" Becca whispered, her voice sounding scared and concerned. The darkness hid her facial expression but Suzie could imagine the little crease between her eyebrows that formed whenever she was worried. All four of the kids had the same crease, one of the few physical traits they all shared.
"Yes?" Suzie asked, silently preparing herself for the conversation. It's not that she didn't like talking to her little sister, but Becca usually took a long time to form complete sentences and she tended to repeat words a lot. The doctors never explained why she seemed to lack social awareness and lagged in learning. Becca did not have any friends at school, so she latched onto Suzie. And sewing. Becca forced Suzie to learn how to sew since Becca wanted to spend time with her older sister while doing one of the few things she enjoyed. The blankets on both their beds were hand-sewed by Becca. Even the pillowcases boasted a cute flower design embroidered in the center of the white pillowcase.
Sure, Suzie loved her little sister. But, though it might sound mean, Suzie sometimes wished that she did not have to make sure Becca behaved or completed her homework. Or had Becca follow her like a duckling following her mama duck.
"Is Bucky really dead?" Becca asked. "Dead? Is he dead?"
"I wouldn't say dead, just…missing for a bit," Suzie whispered back, trying to be as gentle as possible. She was too exhausted to deal with an outburst if Becca became too upset.
"Is he coming back?" Becca asked, her voice worried.
"I don't know." The thought of never seeing Bucky again crushed the air out of her lungs. Suzie tried to breathe through it, glad that Becca couldn't see the tears forming in her eyes.
"Can I send him a blanket? I wanna send him a blanket. It's probably cold over there," Becca said.
A small smile tugged at Suzie's lips. Oh, to be so naive about the truth. "Yes, make him a blanket, or a hat. I'm sure he'll like it."
"Make it blue. Or red. Like our flag."
"Patriotic. I bet all the other soldiers will be jealous."
"Really jealous. Jealous, jealous. It'll be nice and warm with a matching hat, and gloves." Becca giggled a bit at the ideas forming.
"At that point, why don't you make a whole outfit?" Suzie suggested. "Shirt, jacket, pants, the whole thing."
"If I sew Bucky something, will he come back?" Becca asked, turning serious again.
"Eventually," Suzie lied. In truth, the chances of Bucky ever coming home decreased every day. The Barnes might not see him anytime soon, at least not until the war ended. Until then, the idea of making a complete outfit for Bucky could keep Becca distracted.
"Go to sleep, Becca. You'll need your energy to make all that stuff for Bucky," Suzie said.
"Okay," Becca said. "Say goodnight with me."
Suzie smiled at Becca's nightly routine.
Together, the sisters whispered to the ceiling, "Good night, ma. Good night, pa. Good night, Travis, Good night, Steve. Good night, Bucky."
"Good night, Suzie," Becca whispered in the dark.
Tears forming in her eyes, Suzie whispered back, "Good night, Becca."
On the Sunday of the memorial service at their local church, Suzie pulled herself from her bed. The clock on the dresser already showed seven-thirty in the morning. The sun shone through a gap in the curtains of their shared bedroom. Becca stood at the edge of Suzie's bed, holding the belt of her dress. Sitting up, Suzie helped buckle the belt around Becca's sky blue dress. Thin white lines crisscrossed the skirt that swirled around Becca's calves as she walked back over to the dresser to comb her hair.
"Are you gonna wear a dress today?" Becca asked as the comb glided through her sandy-brown locks. She frowned as a knot slowed the comb's descent, tugging to loosen the comb's teeth from her hair.
"It's cold out, Becca," Suzie complained as she rifled through their shared closet. Snow already started falling yesterday, but it had already melted by noon.
"Wear long socks or something," Becca suggested as if Suzie needed fashion advice from something three years younger than her. "It won't snow today. Ma said there's no snow this week. No snow."
"Pants are fine," Suzie said. She sidled over to their shared dresser to slide open the bottom drawer where she kept her pants neatly folded. Unlike Bucky and Travis, she and Becca always kept their clothes tidy and organized. Becca set down her comb and kicked the drawer shut, almost smashing Suzie's fingers.
"Ma will be mad," Becca pointed out. Suzie glared up at her sister before smoothing out her facial expression. She did not like upsetting her sister, and she did not want to start an argument this early in the morning.
"I don't care what ma thinks," Suzie retorted. Becca pouted at that, her bottom lip quivering.
Sighing, Suzie stood up and gestured at the closet. "I'll wear a dress if you want me to. In fact, you can pick one out."
Becca's wide, brown eyes lit up at that and she grinned as she skipped over to the closet. Sliding the hangers apart, Becca combed through the small collection of dresses that Suzie owned but never wore.
With a small 'aha!', Becca grabbed a red, long-sleeved blouse and a black, knee-length skirt. She handed the blouse and skirt to Suzie and rummaged through the dresser to pull a pair of white, woolen, thigh-high stockings.
Internally grimacing and wishing that she had never agreed to let Becca persuade her into wearing a skirt, Suzie changed into the outfit. When she finished, Becca started clapping from where she sat on her bed.
"Pretty!" Becca announced and bounced up to her feet. She grabbed her comb from the dresser, took Suzie by the elbow, and pushed her to sit on the edge of Suzie's bed. "Imma do your hair, make it pretty!"
"Becca, please, no." Becca ignored Suzie's protest as Becca started to comb Suzie's dark brown hair, curling a few shorter sections into a mock form of bangs.
Lips pressed in a firm line to show her protest, Suzie stared at herself in the mirror sitting across from them on the dresser. Despite all the drama and complaining, Becca did have a knack for fashion, evidenced by the red blouse with a white collar and cuffs she forgot she owned. Plus, the skirt had pockets.
Starting to feel amused, Suzie swore she remembered doing something similar to Bucky when they were younger. Prompted by Becca's insisting, Suzie had joined her little sister to capture Bucky and sit him down in the living room one summer night to play dress-up. They had attempted to put his short hair into ponytails.
Smiling at the memory, Suzie knew that Bucky shared the same, unamused expression of a teenage boy forced to endure two little girls dressing him up. Steve had laughed when they had finished, which had ended in an asthma attack when he saw the numerous sprouts sticking up in Bucky's hair, ma's 'borrowed' lipstick smeared sloppily over his lips, and a blanket wrapped around his waist like a dress.
Travis had escaped the impromptu dress-up game due to falling sick with a stomach virus, so the two Barnes girls had sat Steve down next to have a mini fashion show when Mrs. Barnes returned from the store.
"All done!" Becca announced moments later. Standing up, Suzie smoothed down her skirt. All in all, she did not look terrible. She could endure a couple of hours like this if it made Becca happy, no problem.
Dashing out of their bedroom, Becca ran downstairs to the kitchen with Suzie following behind. Travis already sat in his spot at the table, his eyes closed in an attempt to soothe the hangover. His gray tie hung loosely around his neck, and his brown suit jacket draped carelessly over the back of his chair.
"Morning!" Becca shouted, causing Travis to wince at the sudden, high-pitched sound.
Travis grunted in response, his glass of water clutched between both his hands. An untouched bowl of oatmeal sat on the table in front of him, so Suzie snatched it along with the spoon and sat down across from him to eat.
"What're we going to again?" Travis asked, his voice gruff. He had not shaved yet, the day's old stubble darkening his jawline.
"A church service dedicated to all Allied soldiers captured, killed, or missing," Mrs. Barnes replied as she walked down the stairs. She wore a white, ruffled, long-sleeved blouse with a teal skirt. Her graying hair was pulled back into a tight bun. She held her brown, thigh-length coat that she only wore on special occasions over her bent elbow.
"Reverand asked everyone in the church to offer names of men who have died, so I gave him Bucky's name. The whole congregation will share in one large prayer for the safety of those on earth and in heaven," Mrs. Barnes added. She made a couple of slices of toast and margarine before joining the three kids at the table.
Suzie kept her mouth shut the rest of breakfast and on the drive over to the church. She knew that a memorial was a nice idea, but it pained her to think they would remember Bucky as someone who died. The special church service made it seem like everyone gave up on the return of their sons, brothers, and husbands. The men who fought overseas deserved something better than a few prayers. It felt more like a funeral than a service of hope.
A gut-wrenching feeling of terror clawed at Suzie's chest when Mrs. Barnes drove their 1910 Ford Model-T into the parking lot of their local church. The old car rolled its way through the sea of cars before Mrs. Barnes found an open spot. A few brand new cars shone in the sunlight, making their older Model-T look outdated. Still, Mrs. Barnes insisted on driving the car since Mr. Barnes had bought it new and kept it in such nice condition that it seemed like a waste to buy a new one when theirs still worked.
The church parking lot quickly filled up. Streams of women, children, and a few men too old to serve strolled through the front doors. Sobriety filled the air like they were all walking to their deaths - or commemorating the deaths of the men overseas. Even though the church did not boast a tall height, it still loomed over Suzie as the Barnes made their way to the front doors. The steeple blocked out the sunlight, casting them in shadow. The doors, usually welcoming, stood like a barrier, barring her from something sinister.
She had grown up in this church, been baptized, helped with banquets, and listened to Bucky and Becca sing in the choir. Never before did she feel afraid to cross the threshold. Rooted to the ground, Suzie glanced back at the growing crowd. No one else appeared afraid; this was ridiculous. She was acting too dramatic. The service, although different, offered meaningful intentions. Despite the tears from the women in the crowd, nobody shared her sense of dread.
Travis had to drag her into the church with a hand on her wrist. It did not feel right. It felt like a gateway to a terrible change in her life. She did not want to cross the threshold of the church. She did not want to change.
"If you walk through that door, you're accepting that Bucky's really dead," a voice in Suzie's head whispered.
Glancing around at her family, Suzie could not see a sense of hesitancy in her mother and siblings. Why was she acting like this? What could be so wrong inside that nobody other than her could sense? She had been in that church thousands of times before, why the change?
Chalking up her hesitancy to her refusal to believe Bucky's death, Suzie begrudgingly allowed Travis to drag her inside.
The feeling of dread only increased.
Sitting down between Becca and Travis, Suzie stared wide-eyed up at the walls of the church.
The arches, which she once considered beautiful, crept along the walls like skeletal fingers from the hand of death. The wooden pews creaked under the weight of the growing crowd. Patches of dust hovered in the sunbeams. Sweat beaded on Suzie's forehead as her heart rate increased. Anxiety crept up her back, clutching at her chest with an unseen force.
At a confused glance from Mrs. Barnes, Suzie tried to force her breathing under control. Still, she trembled from the anticipation.
They shouldn't be here.
Something was wrong.
The ceremony started as normal. Suzie numbly followed the movements, muttering the responses without much enthusiasm after Travis elbowed her in the side.
They shouldn't be here.
Bucky was not dead, this felt like an insult to his memory.
Something was wrong. A sinister unseen force suffocated Suzie. The inside of the church turned blurry as Suzie silently shook in her seat. She clutched the wooden seat of the pew, trying to calm down. Nobody else seemed to notice her anxiety.
The memorial part of the church service officially started. The pastor stood in the center aisle, explaining the same story that everyone already knew by heart - how and why the United States joined the war.
They shouldn't be here.
Unable to focus, Suzie stared at the pastor's bald head, blinking rapidly to try to clear her vision. She wanted to throw up, the knot in her stomach tightening with each passing second. Her lungs refused to work, anxiety squeezing until she felt like her lungs would pop.
She squirmed in her seat, earning a harsh glare from her mother. Usually, only Becca fidgeted in church. Now, Becca sat like a statue, focused on the pastor's speech while Suzie's leg refused to stop bouncing.
In an attempt to quell her nervous jitters, Suzie crossed a leg over her knee and squeezed her legs together, trying to calm herself down. It only succeeded in shaking her entire body.
What was wrong with her? She couldn't focus, she couldn't breathe, she couldn't act normal like everyone else. Why couldn't she act normal? Why did she feel so afraid?
Something was wrong.
They shouldn't be here.
They should leave.
They needed to leave, now!
Take her family and run, never look back.
Get out of the church.
Leave.
Leave!
LEAVE!
A crack of a gunshot suddenly filled the air, startling Suzie from her panic attack.
Stunned, Suzie watched as a bullet sailed through the pastor's head.
Oops, cliffhanger. :P Feel free to leave a review.