~Thursday February 20, 1980~

Trixie Frayne sat in the dim theater in between her husband, Jim, and her best friend and sister-in-law, Honey Belden. Diana, Trixie’s other sister-in-law, had invited her family and friends to a new play production that was opening at the New York City Theatre Company.

“I’ve never heard of Philippe L’Rouge,” Honey said to her husband, Brian, as she flipped through the program. “His biography doesn’t explain much about him, other than that he has been directing and acting in plays since 1971. It says he landed his first role in West Side Story as a dancer. I wish there was a picture of him on this program.”

“I’m not sure who he is either,” Trixie commented. “But, I also don’t consider myself as an authority on directors and plays. Diana, that’s your field. Ever heard of him?”

Diana merely shrugged. “I was just told by my manager that this play was supposed to be a good one.”

“It must be a good one if you were able to talk Dan and Emily into coming,” Mart said to his wife.

“Actually, Mart, it was quite easy to talk them into it,” answered Diana as she winked at her close friend Dan Mangan and his wife, Emily. “Too bad Regan couldn’t make it.”

“You know, I don’t even recognize any of the actors,” Honey said as she pointed at the cast list. “Kind of odd how their names are just listed instead of saying what role they play.”

Diana shrugged. “That must be his style, I guess. I don’t know much about L’Rouge myself.”

“You know, his name looks like it means Philip the Red,” Honey whispered to Diana, which resulted in giggling.

“Shhh,” Brian said quietly to stifle Diana and Honey’s giggling. They were thirty-two years old and still giggling like schoolgirls. “The play’s going to begin.”

The house lights dimmed until the entire theatre was dark. Without a sound, the curtains opened.

Act I, scene 1

Thursday October 10, 1951

It was quiet for five o’clock Monday morning in the slum. The normal sounds of clinking tin cans and rustling newspaper were vacant in the solemn neighborhood. The dingy ally, known to the locals as Van Buren Avenue, consisted of tall weather stained brick apartment buildings, old homes with boarded up windows, a Jake’s Hamburger Place, two corner markets, a small church, The ElkhornHotel, and George Washington Grade and High School.

A lamp dimly lit a small bedroom in a ground floor apartment of one of the tall buildings. While most people were asleep at this hour of the morning, one couple was up early.

“I know you don’t want me to go, Meg,” Tim Mangan said softly to his wife. He sat down next to her on the bed and held her for a moment. “I have no choice. I have to.”

Megan hadn’t said much for most of the conversation. She tightly held her threadbare robe together while she dabbed at her teary green eyes.

Tim reached up with his free hand and wrapped one of her red curls around his finger and kissed her freckled cheek. “Aurnia, baby. The war will be over before we know it and I’ll be home. You’ll see. Truman says that the American troupes shouldn’t be over there for more than six months.”

“What if you don’t come home?” Megan sobbed.

“Don’t say that, sweetie.” Tim looked over at the old clock on the dresser. “My ride will be here in half an hour. Megan, I want you to believe me when I say I’ll come home.”

Megan wordlessly nodded her head. “What about Danny? How am I supposed to support him?”

“We’ve already talked about this, Megan. I know this is going to be hard for you, but you’ll have to find more work somewhere.” Tim ran his hand through his shiny jet-black hair. “Everything will work out fine. Mrs. Dempsey next door said she would be happy to help with Danny while you are working. Maybe you could see if you could find your brother. Maybe he’s still at the orphanage.”

Megan smiled through her tears. “Mrs. Dempsey is a sweetheart, Tim. Since she never had children, I always get this sense that we are more like family to her than anyone else. And I just know that Billy is no longer at that orphanage. He probably would have run away long ago.”

Tim nodded. “You’ll find him. You’re determined enough to do it. So I don’t want you to worry that pretty red head of yours. You’re stubborn and you’ll make things work. I know you will.”

“I’m also pretty stubborn about this war. I just wish for once that the Rockefellers, Hoovers and the Kennedys would send their children overseas instead of going to all their ritzy parties and living in the lap of luxury while us pitiful commoners march off to war. Who cares if they can hob-nob with the rich? I want you here and they can fight the war for us!”

Tim calmly took his young wife in his arms and hugged her as she let her tears come.

“It’s just not fair!” she bawled.

“Aurnia baby, it’ll be all right. It will seem like no time. When I come home, we can move out of this place. I’ll get a real job and…maybe Johnny and I can play for a few record companies. We have some real hits that people like. Did I tell you Johnnie has been drafted, too? He and I can play while we’re overseas.”

“Don’t worry about that stuff,” Megan sighed as she reluctantly pulled away from him. “Right now, you’ve got to go in and say good-bye to Danny. You’ve got about ten minutes before your ride gets here.”

Tim nodded his head. “I’m sure going to miss that little guy. Aside from you, Meg, he’s my whole world.”

Megan’s eyes grew dark as she absorbed his words. “Then you make sure you come back to him.”

“I will. I’ll come back to the both of you. I would never leave the two of you behind.”

Three-year-old Danny was fast asleep in his small bed. The sunlight of the dawn peeked in through the cracked bedroom window and glinted off his soft, black hair. Tim knelt down next to the bed and lightly kissed his son on the forehead.

Danny blinked awake and opened his mouth wide as he yawned. “Daddy!” he cried and reached out for his father.

“Good morning, Danny,” he said as he let his son wrap him in a hug. “Are you going to be a good boy today?”

“’Course, Daddy,” Danny said rather sleepily.

Tim smiled as he gathered the little boy up in his arms again. “I’m going to miss you so much,” he sighed. He never wanted to let go of his son.

“Where’re you going?”

“Daddy has to take a trip.”

Danny’s eyes grew big. “Can I come, too?”

Tim laughed and kissed his son on the forehead again. “No, Danny. I need you to stay here and take care of Mommy. She’ll need you here. I’m only going to be gone for a few months. I’ll be home in time to see you turn…” Tim stopped as if he tried to think real hard. “How old are you anyway, boy?”

Danny started to giggle. “I’m three!” He held up three little fingers.

“You’re three?” Tim said in mock surprise. “When did that happen? Well, I’ll just have to write you a song while I’m gone. Whaddya think of that?”

Danny wore his biggest smile. “Wow!” he squealed and then sobered. “Daddy, you don’t really have to go, do you?”

“Danny, I do. I’m leaving in a few minutes but I want you to do something for me.” Tim reached into his pants pocket and withdrew a small necklace. “This used to belong to my Dad. See? It has an airplane on it. He used to be an airplane pilot many years ago. He gave this to me when I was your age. Will you keep this and think of me when you see it?”

Danny held out a plump little hand and took the chain. The small airplane charm intrigued the little boy. “Daddy, where are you going? Are you gonna write?”

“I’ll write every day. I’ll be staying in South Korea for a while.”

“Where’ s South Korea?”

“Get Mommy to show you on the map sometime.”

The sound of the doorbell startled Tim and his son. Tim’s blue eyes filled with tears as he gathered his son in his arms one last time. “I’ll miss you, Danny. I’ll bring you presents when I get home, okay?”

Danny’s lips trembled a little. “Okay, Daddy.”

“I love you.”

“I love you too, Daddy.”

The doorbell rang again and Megan hurried to answer it.

“My ride is here to pick me up. I’ll write as soon as I get there.”

Danny’s blue eyes filled with tears. “Good-bye, Daddy,” he sobbed. “I’ll miss you.”

Tim smiled and kissed him on the cheek. “Promise me you’ll be a good boy.”

“I promise.”

“Tim, ya never mind about th’ little tot,” cried Mrs. Dempsey from the bedroom door. “I’ll look after him an’ you go kiss your pretty wife.”

Tim stood up and smiled at her. “Thanks, Mrs. Dempsey. What are you doing here anyway?”

“Ya think I’d sleep and dream while my own sweetheart gets shipped ta Korea? Not very ladylike if you’re askin’.”

“You’re a sweet woman,” he said as he gave her a hug and kissed her on the cheek. “Please make sure they’ll be all right.”

“Ya have me word. An’ Timmy, ya come home ta us. ’Tis an order.”

Tim smiled and headed out. As he left the bedroom, he could hear Danny’s cries. He desperately wanted to run back in there and never come out but this was only temporary. He would be home in a few months. Six months to a year at the most. President Truman said so.

A private stood in the entrance and Megan sat on a chair in the kitchen, dabbing her eyes.

“You have a few minutes, Mr. Mangan,” the private said curtly. “We have two more pick ups and the plane leaves at seven.”

Tim nodded and headed to the kitchen. The gut wrenching moment of all moments was about to take place. Megan’s green eyes were puffy and red from crying. Tim’s own eyes misted over as he took her hands and knelt down in front of her.

“Megan,” he began. “I want you to remain strong like you always have. I want you to have faith that I will come back home.” He stood up and pulled Megan to her feet. “I love you, Aurnia.” He pulled her close for a long kiss.

The lump in his throat grew as he tried to hang on to his wife. Running his hands through her long red curls, he kissed her over and over again. Tasting every inch of her mouth so as not to forget the feeling once he landed in South Korea. One last time, their tongues touched as he reluctantly pulled away.

“I have to go,” he choked.

“I know,” she whispered and wiped one of his tears away with a trembling finger.

The private cleared his throat. “It’s time, Mr. Mangan.”

Tim looked over to the Private and nodded. Cupping Megan’s face in his hands, he lightly kissed her lips. “I love you.”

Megan fell into his arms and held him tightly. “I love you, too.”

“I’ll write as soon as I touch ground. I promise, you’ll hear from me.”

Megan didn’t say anything but just nodded her head.

“It’s only six months. That’s not very long, is it?”

“Too long.”

Tim pulled away from her and grabbed his duffle bag. “I have to go,” he said again. “Bye, Aurnia.”

“Bye, Ally Cat.”

The private let Tim through the door first and swiftly turned to Megan, tipped his head and left.

Megan stood in front of the door in shock. One half of her reason for living had just left her life.

“It’s only temporary,” she said aloud to the empty room. She shut her eyes and waited for Tim to answer her. The sickening sound of silence enveloped her body as she felt this wave of nausea come over her body. Stumbling over her feet, she hurried into the bathroom and vomited.

Act I, scene 2

Megan cradled Danny in her arms while Mrs. Dempsey made tea in her kitchen. Danny fingered the necklace around his neck as he stared out the old window. Megan tilted her head down to look into her son’s eyes.

“How’re you doing, Danny?”

Danny didn’t answer. Instead he continued to look out the window.

“It’s okay,” she whispered and kissed his forehead.

“Is Daddy really coming back?”

“Of course he is, Danny,” his mother said softly. “He’s going to South Korea because his help is needed over there. He’ll be home soon.”

The answer didn’t seem to satisfy him. He looked up at Mrs. Dempsey as she carried a tray into the living room.

“Here is some tea for ya,” she said softly. “I brought ya some biscuits fer dippin’.”

“Thank you,” Megan said with a wide smile and sat Danny down on the couch next to her. “Mrs. Dempsey, without Tim here, I’ll need to look for work.”

“’Tis a terrible world out there, Meg,” she sighed. “They take away the bread winner and expect families ta thrive. But I know a secret, Meg. When Theodore died, he left me with a small income so I wouldn’t starve.”

“Mrs. Dempsey, I couldn’t ask you to help us that way,” Megan interrupted and set her tea down. “I will get a job. Two jobs if I need to. But someone needs to look after Danny.”

“An’ I already said I would be happy to,” Mrs. Dempsey said as she stood up and wiped her hands on her apron. “Then it’s settled, right? Danny will stay here when you need him to.”

Megan’s eyes filled with tears. “I don’t know how to thank you, Mrs. Dempsey.”

“You can start by callin’ me by my given Christian name. ’Tis Morgan.” She straightened the collar on her flowered yellow dress and smoothed her apron.

“Thank you, Morgan.” Megan reached into her dress pocket for her handkerchief. Her eyes felt red and raw. She felt as if she would never stop crying.

Morgan smiled at the three-year-old sitting quietly on the couch. “Come along, Danny,” she invited and held her hand out. “Let’s go find ya a bed.”

Danny looked questioningly up at his mother.

“Yes, Danny, go with Mrs. Dempsey. You’ll be staying here tonight.”

“No,” Danny argued with worried eyes. “Don’t leave me.”

Morgan laughed. “Don’ worry ya little head, there, Danny. Mum’s not goin’ anywhere. She’ll be spendin’ the night here, too.”

“Yes, Danny. I’m staying here tonight too,” Megan said reassuringly and gently nudged the boy.

Danny scooted off the couch and slowly took Mrs. Dempsey’s hand. His blue eyes lost their twinkle as he took his gaze off his mother and let the older woman lead him down the hallway.

Megan took another sip of tea and looked around the small living room. Years of clutter and love filled this room. Mrs. Dempsey hadn’t always lived there, but since her husband died, she didn’t have the money for the apartment they had lived in before. Going back home to Ireland wasn’t an option. Everyone Morgan Dempsey knew lived in New York. Some of her family in Ireland were immigrants to the U.S. but most of them had passed away.

“’Tis all settled,” Morgan said as she led Danny back into the living room.

Act I, scene 3

Tuesday November 2, 1951

Morgan Dempsey awoke to the sound of sobbing. It was nothing new to her since every night she heard Megan’s soft crying in the living room. So as not to wake Danny, she quietly slipped her robe on and tip toed out to the living room. Megan’s small frame shook and trembled as she sobbed.

“Come on, Meg, we’ll get you out to the kitchen an’ make you some tea,” she said softly.

Megan looked up at the tall, thin, middle-aged woman and closed her eyes. They hurt from crying. Meekly, she let Morgan lead her out to the small kitchen.

“You must stop that cryin’,” she said softly. “You’ll never get sleep an’ be able to get up for work again tomorrow.”

Megan nodded. “It only seems like I have about four hours of sleep per night. I’m not sure how much I can do this. Plus, I am paying rent for our apartment.”

“Pish! Don’ see you paying rent for that place when I’m livin’ all alone here.” Morgan set a cup of tea down in front of Megan and sat down at the small kitchen table. “Now I know you an’ I don’ see eye to eye on this, but this time I’m puttin’ my foot down. I want you an’ Danny to move over here.”

“But when Tim comes home, we’ll still want an apartment.”

“Then you can get one. An’ it’ll be in a better neighborhood. It makes no sense to me why a young an’ healthy couple like you two are livin’ here when there’s more to see.”

Megan stirred her tea. “Tim and I want Danny to have an education. Neither one of us really got anything more than just what we’ve picked up and learned by living life.”

“Can ya read?”

“A little.”

Morgan stood up and headed for the living room and in a few seconds returned holding a book. “Ya won’t get any better readin’ than what’s in here.”

“A bible?”

“’Tis right. Ya start readin’ this. Better than whatever else is out there.”

Megan nodded again and traced the words “The Holy Bible” on the faded cover. “Thanks, Morgan. I’ll read this to Danny when he goes to sleep. I don’t have any books to read to him and don’t really know any stories. Well, none that are repeatable for three-year-olds.”

Morgan smiled. “I’ll have to tell him some of me own, then!”

“Maybe I’ll learn some stories to tell him. He’s always been a patient boy, but he panics easily. It broke my heart when Tim told him that he was just leaving on a trip. Danny wanted to go too. He doesn’t understand what’s happening and I’m not sure I can explain it to him.”

“When he’s older Tim can tell him stories of Korea. ’Ave you heard from him since he wrote last?”

“Yes, I got this letter today.”

Megan heard Tim’s voice as she read the letter to Morgan.

Aurnia,

It seems like a long time since I wrote last. I haven’t heard from you so I hope you got my first letter. But, I suppose South Korea is far away from New York and it takes a few weeks for the Pony Express to deliver. I hope all is well with you and Danny. I’m hoping I can send some Korean souvenirs to you for Danny and yourself. Tell Mrs. Dempsey that she gets one, too. Johnnie is in my tent and has been great company for me. He sends his love to you and Danny, as he has no family to write to.

I have tomorrow off, so I’m going to spend it with Johnnie. Both of us have an idea for a song that we can’t get off our minds. Strike while the iron’s hot, right? Things have been going fine here. I haven’t been sent to fight yet. They needed help in the medical tents. About a month ago, while Johnnie and I were in training, a disease came through this area and many of the nurses and physicians got sick. Many of them had to go home and some even died. The problem has been taken care of since they have found what caused the sickness.

When I’m not helping the doctors, I’m in the food tent either cooking or washing dishes. After all this experience, I should be able to get work when I come back home. Then, we can move to a better neighborhood, make sure Danny goes to a good school, and then you won’t have to work. In fact, maybe we can give Danny a little sister?

Aurnia, I think about you day and night. When I’m sleeping, I dream about you and Danny. I pinned up the only picture I have of the three of us together so I never forget one slight detail. When I look at you, holding Danny on your lap, I think of what Aurnia means: Golden Lady.

It’s almost lights out time here and I have an early morning tomorrow. I’ll write again and look forward to getting a letter from you.

Love you dearly,
Tim (Ally Cat)

Morgan smiled as Megan folded the letter back up and slipped into her robe. “So what more are ya waitin’ for, Meg? Give up that apartment, live with me, an’ when Tim comes a-marchin’ home, you two will need an apartment if Danny’s gonna get a little sister.” She smiled even wider with her last comment.

Megan blushed. “I’m not sure how I can argue with the two of you now, and I suppose since Danny has been spending more time here these days, I really should do it then.”

Morgan’s heart felt like it could fly. “You’re just what an old lady needs to have around the house. An’ you can just forget about that second job because I have an income that’ll help.”

Megan nodded and sipped her tea. “I wish I could get in touch with Billy, my brother. I haven’t seen him since the day I left the orphanage to marry Tim.”

“Do you know if he’s still at the orphanage?”

“I doubt it. He wasn’t happy there. He probably left the way I did.”

“Ya think he’s out there somewhere? I don’ think so. He would’a found ya.”

“I suppose he would have,” Megan sighed as she stood up. “I’ll contact the orphanage tomorrow after work. Billy could come home and live here too—er, if you don’t mind, that is. He’s old enough he could sell papers or shine shoes.”

“Anyone’s welcome here,” Morgan answered. “You find him and bring him home.”

Megan nodded her head and yawned. “I’m feeling better now and should get back to bed. How’s Danny been?”

“Like a little angel. Don’ worry a bit about th’ little tot.”

“Thanks, Morgan,” she said as she left the kitchen for her place on the couch.

Act I, scene 4

Wednesday November 3, 1951

Megan tugged at her thin coat as she made her way down the street. There were only a few more blocks to walk and she’d be at the old orphanage that she grew up in. Memories came back to her as she remembered the old battle-ax that ran the place. Mildred was her name. If she was still there, then it wouldn’t be at all a surprise if Billy had run away.

The long hallways and staircases were cold and unkempt. Paint chipped off the wall and some of the plaster was gone, revealing the wooden supports on the inside. The floorboards creaked as she made her way up the staircase.

A middle-aged secretary looked up from her desk as Megan stepped in through the door.

“Can I help you?” she asked with a scowl.

“Y-yes. My name is Megan Mangan. I’m looking for my little brother.”

“What makes you think he’d be here? Parents dead?”

It stung to hear someone speak so carelessly about her parents. “Yes, our parents are dead.”

“So why don’t you have him then? You’re perfectly capable of looking after him.”

Megan’s temper flared a little. She never saw reason to lose her temper until now. With a husband like Tim, and a son like Danny, things seemed to be too perfect to ever feel like bursting. Stubbornness reared its ugly head at times, but nothing ever tempted her to lose her temper.

“My brother and I used to be in this orphanage. I got married,” she explained.

The woman stood up and slipped her glasses on. “The name’s Mangan, right? Never heard of any Mangans.”

“No, the name is Regan. Mangan is my name. It used to be Regan. My brother’s name is William Regan.” Megan spat the words out trying to control herself.

“Megan Regan?”

“Yes. That’s my name.”

“Never heard of you. You sure you were in this orphanage?”

“I was here three years ago.”

“I’ve been here for ten years and have never heard of you. You must be mistaken.”

“I’m not mistaken, Ma’am. I’d know the smell of this dump anywhere. I’ll be willing to bet that old Mildred still runs this place.” Megan took her coat and hat off and sat down in the chair in front of the desk. “I’m not going anywhere until you find my brother. Now the name’s William Regan. Find him.”

The old woman’s eyes grew dark and her jaw dropped. “Ungrateful little wench. I’ll go look, but I don’t want to see you here again. We run a respectable orphanage and we don’t need your type coming in here.”

Megan leaned back in her chair. “I’m waiting.”

The woman huffed and left the room. Megan stood up and looked out the doorway. Seeing that the other woman was far enough away, she yanked open the filing cabinet that read “N through S”.

Rifling through the files, she came to the “RE” section and paid close attention. The name came up. “Regan, William,” she said quietly. Glancing out the door again to make sure the old woman wasn’t on her way back, she thumbed through the file. A picture of her brother was paper clipped to a form. Hearing footsteps coming closer, she quickly pushed the file cabinet shut and hid the file in her coat and sat back down.

“Never was a William Regan here,” said the old woman upon entering the room again. “I suggest that you must have the wrong orphanage and that you should leave.”

“Thanks for nothing, Ma’am,” Megan said as she carefully gathered her coat and hat in her arms. “I’ll let myself out.”

Megan hurried back to Morgan Dempsey’s apartment. She couldn’t wait to read Billy’s file. Tears came to her eyes as she thought about why she hadn’t ever gone back to the orphanage. If she had gone back, Mildred would’ve never let her out. Billy could take care of himself. He probably ran away from the orphanage right after she did, hoping to find out where she had gone. She only told him that she was getting married to Tim Mangan and that some day, they’d come back for him.

The apartment was empty when Megan arrived. Morgan probably took Danny for a walk or shopping. She sighed as she set the file down in front of her on the kitchen table. “William Patrick Regan” was printed across the top of the brown folder.

On the inside, a form was neatly filled out in perfect penmanship. Megan struggled through the words and tried to find something that she would understand. Softly she read aloud to herself, sounding out words as she read:

“William Patrick Regan, born November 27, 1940. Arrival date: August 15, 1941. Age upon arrival: 8 months. Parents: Patrick D. and Charlotte L. Regan. Parent’s death: August 14, 1941. Cause of death: Car accident. Family: One sister - Megan A. Regan. Adoption status: n/a. Does orphan still reside within orphanage? No.”

But there was no other information on the form that would give any clues to where Billy was. Megan thumbed through the folder. Her eyes caught another form towards the back of the papers. Stamped in big letters on the form was the word “DECEASED”.

“Dead…” Megan said to herself as she put her head down on the table and softly cried. Her brother was gone. She had hoped that some day she would go back to the orphanage and rescue him from Mildred.

Act I, scene 5

Saturday January 25, 1952

Aurnia,

I heard from the Colonel that some of us would be heading home soon. They are shipping more doctors and nurses over here so about half of us will be going home, and the other half will be distributed to other parts of South Korea. I hope I will be part of the half that will be coming home, as I can’t wait to see you!

In February, the Army is shipping some of the boys home for a weeklong visit to their families. I can’t wait to see you. I wish I could go home forever, but this is the way it is, I’m afraid.

Kiss Danny for me. I miss the little guy and think about him all the time. I hope he’s been good for you and I appreciate everything you’re doing to help. I was sorry to hear about Billy. I only met him a few times, so I don’t really know what he was like. But, if he’s anything like you are, he was a great man.

Hope the winter season is working out for you. I hated the fact that I couldn’t come home for Christmas, but I hope you and Danny had a good one with Mrs. Dempsey. I really tried to come home but you know how seniority is. If you have any rank above a private, then you are entitled to more visits and days off.

The song I have for Danny isn’t written yet but it’s still in my head. Johnnie and I haven’t been together enough lately to write it, and when we are, we’ve been tired. The both of us put in very long days at the MASH units and the food tent.

I’ll know if I’m coming home in a few weeks. I’ll be sure to write then.

Kiss and hug Danny good night and tell him his Daddy loves him.

Love,
Tim (Ally Cat)

Megan folded the letter and put it back in the envelope. All was quiet in the kitchen except for Danny’s giggling in the living room, where Morgan was telling him stories. Listening in on the older woman and Danny, Megan remembered some of the stories her mother used to tell her.

“Have you ever seen a leprechaun?” Danny asked the older woman.

“Aye. I remember back in Ireland when I was just a wee girl, I came upon a little man who told me that he had a pot of gold.”

“Are you sure it was a leprechaun?”

“Ya think I’m makin’ things up, Danny?” she asked in a mock-offended tone.

Danny giggled. “No!”

“Then let me finish me story! Anyway, the little man says ta me, ‘Morgan, if you so much as think about takin’ me gold, I’ll turn ya into a troll.’”

“Did he turn you into a troll?”

Megan, who listened from the kitchen, giggled at Danny’s question.

“Ya sayin’ I look like a troll?”

Danny giggled even harder. “No!”

“I tried to catch the little man to show him to show him to Mum and Dad, but he ran away. I never did find him again.”

Danny smiled up at her. “Tell me another one,” he asked.

“I think it’s bedtime, Danny,” Megan said from the doorway. “You can hear more about leprechauns tomorrow.”

Danny’s smile fell to a frown as he slowly got off the couch and followed his mother down the hallway.

“Mommy, are leprechauns real?”

“If Morgan says they are, Danny, then they are. She’s met one after all.”

“How come I’ve never seen one?”

“Because leprechauns are only in Ireland.” She lifted Danny onto the small bed in the corner of Megan’s new bedroom. “I don’t know any stories about leprechauns, but I know about a man who made shoes.”

Danny’s face fell. Megan could tell he wanted to hear stories about Leprechauns but this one was better.

“My mother told me this story when I was very little.”

“Is it true?”

“I think so. Do you want to hear it?”

Danny nodded his head as he scooted back on the bed and his mother sat down next to him.

“The shoemaker and his wife lived in the village and were very poor. One day, the king came to him and requested one hundred pairs of shoes by the next morning.

‘But Your Royal Highness,’ the shoemaker pleaded. ‘I won’t be able to make one hundred pairs of shoes by morning. I need more time.’

The King scowled at him. ‘Either you make those shoes I’ve requested, or I’ll take you to the dungeon!’

The shoemaker and his wife begged and pleaded for mercy but the King wouldn’t hear of it. He demanded that the shoes be done by sunrise. So, the shoemaker and his wife worked hard for the rest of the day into the evening, and into the night. His wife cut and sewed the material while the shoemaker made the soles. While she worked on the next pair of shoes, he attached the material and the soles together. Finally, after about the fortieth pair of shoes, the shoemaker stopped.

‘I just can’t go on,’ he said to his wife.

‘I know,’ she said. ‘Let’s get some rest. We can sleep for an hour and work on the shoes until daybreak.’

While the shoemaker and his wife slept, little elves sneaked into the workshop and found the couple sleeping amongst the shoes.

‘Sprinkle some sleeping dust on them,’ one elf said the other. ‘Make sure they are in a sound sleep.’

“Why did the elves want them to sleep?” Danny asked, a little bit concerned. “They need to get the shoes done so the King won’t throw them in the dungeon.”

“I was just coming to that,” his mother replied. “Anyway, after making sure the shoemaker and his wife were sound asleep, the elves set to work. All through the night they worked and sang. They sang:

All night they sang and worked. When the clock struck five, and the sun peeked up over the hills, the last shoe was made.

‘Quick,’ one elf said to another elf, ‘wake the shoemaker and his wife up.’

The little elf sprinkled ‘wake-up’ dust on the couple and dashed out the window with his fellow worker-elves. The shoemaker awoke with a start and quickly nudged his wife awake. They gazed around the room and stared in wonder at all the pairs of shoes that were made. There were green, red, yellow, blue and purple shoes. There were all different types of shoes, too.

The shoemaker reached out to a pair of ladies dance slippers and touched them, hoping it wasn’t just a dream. As soon as he felt that they were real, he let out a whoop of excitement and danced his wife around the workshop.

Their excitement was cut short by the sounds of horses’ hooves making clip-clop clip-clop noises down the lane. Before they knew it, the King was at their door demanding to see the shoes. Meekly, the shoemaker showed off all the shoes that miraculously appeared during the night. Thanking both the shoemaker and his wife, he had his men gather the shoes to take back to his castle.

‘Why don’t you and your wife join the royal court for supper,’ the King said to the shoemaker. ‘The both of you did such a good job that I would like to show more gratitude.’

So, aside from being paid for the shoes, the shoemaker and his wife ate with the King and his court, all because of the help of the little fairy elves.”

Danny looked up at her with sleepy blue eyes. “Will you tell it to me again, Mommy?”

“Sure.” Megan helped him into his pajamas and under the covers as she retold the story. She smoothed the blankets out and knelt down in front of the bed. “And what did the fairy elves sing?”

“I don’t remember,” Danny said as he dozed a bit.

Megan brushed some of Danny’s jet-black hair out of his eyes as she leaned forward to kiss the sleeping boy goodnight. After making sure he was tucked in, Megan tip-toed out the bedroom door.

Act I, scene 6

Wednesday February 26, 1952

“Have you heard from Tim when he’s comin’ home?” Morgan asked Megan that morning as she handed the young woman a cup of coffee.

Megan shook her head and rested her head in her hand while she stirred her coffee with her other hand.

“No,” she answered. “I wrote a letter a few weeks ago. It takes so long for letters to get to South Korea and for them to answer.”

“Aye, I know how that is,” Morgan sighed and sat down at the small table. “Theodore fought in World War I years ago when we first came over to the United States. I checked me mail every day an’ about once a month I’d get a letter from him. Funny thing is, is that each letter was dated about two weeks before I received it. I learned one thing very fast while he was in the Military. The Army works very, very slow. The war could be over and none of us would know.”

Megan laughed. “Things are faster these days so I’m sure there wouldn’t be a chance of anything like that happening.”

“Ya never know,” Morgan said as she shook her finger at Megan. “Theodore showed up on me doorstep before his letter explaining his leave even arrived.”

Morgan stood up and took her cup to the kitchen sink, looking out the old, weathered window. “Here comes the postal carrier now. I’m sure as sure that there’s a letter in there for you.” Morgan quickly untied her apron and headed out to get the mail.

“Only a letter for you, Megan,” she said cheerily as she came back into the kitchen and handed a letter to her. “Well, go on, open it up!”

“I’d rather not,” Megan said. “Maybe later.”

“I see,” Morgan said with a pout, trying not to smile. “Ya don’t want ta read the letter with the likes of me hanging around.”

Megan smiled. “I’d really rather read it alone.”

Morgan grinned and put her apron back on. “You go on now and read it in your room. I have lots of work out here to keep me busy.”

The young redheaded woman smiled and headed for her bedroom.

Darling Megan,

There has been a change in plans as far as my visit home this month. The Colonel has cancelled our leave, as there was a new attack from the North Koreans on one of the MASH units along the border. I’m not sure how much I can tell you, so I won’t say too much. Now that we are down a hospital tent, we’ll get more victims in ours until they can get the other area cleaned up and maybe rebuilt. Word hasn’t been out yet.

It was great to see Danny sign your letter too. I see he’s learning to write a little bit. I am sorry I won’t be home soon, and I planned on seeing him before he turns 4 in March. But, can you give the enclosed song to him when he does? I know he won’t know what to do with it but he’ll appreciate it in years to come. Make sure this song gets to a record company. Not many record labels know who The Strays were, or who “Ally Cat” Mangan was, but maybe someone should know.

The Colonel just came in and gave Johnnie and I orders about a mission down at that MASH unit that was just bombed. We are to head down immediately to pick up any survivors and bring them back for treatment. I’ll write you when I get back. We’ll have more information then and I should be able to tell you for sure when I’m coming home.

By the way, I think that’s a very smart move of you to give up our old apartment and move in with Mrs. Dempsey. Give her my thanks, too. The military already knows of the address change.

Give Danny my love and tell him that Daddy’ll be home soon. I love you, Aurnia. I think of you every morning when the sun comes up and it gives me all the energy I need to get through the day. If it weren’t for you and Danny, I wouldn’t see myself coming home. But, I have visions of climbing the steps to our apartment, opening the door and seeing you, and most likely, the golden sun will be shining right behind you as well.

I’d better wrap this up since we’re leaving in a few minutes and I have to get ready. I can’t express it enough, but I have to end it here. The truck is going to leave without me and I’d be in big trouble then.

I love you,
Tim (Ally Cat)

Megan leaned back on her bed and breathed a sigh of relief. “It’s just as good as official,” she said aloud to the empty room. “Tim’s coming home!” The more she thought of seeing him once again, the more she felt a rock hard lump in her throat. Her eyes became bleary as she began crying and sobbing out of sheer happiness.

“Tim’s coming home!” she shouted as she ran into the living room. Danny appeared at the doorway of his small bedroom.

Morgan stood in the doorway, clutching her apron with a broad grin on her face as she took in the scene of Megan’s bright green eyes and bouncing red hair as she held Danny and wept.

Act I, scene 7

Monday March 22, 1952

“I’m not going anywhere,” Megan protested. “I’ve got a horrible cold and don’t feel all that well.”

“Nonsense,” Morgan argued. “What you need is a good bit 0’fresh air. I’ll make some tea for ya, and when you get dressed you’ll feel better.”

Megan sat at the kitchen table in her robe and held her head. “You go shopping, Morgan. I just don’t think I can do it. I was up last night with a headache and chills.”

“Just excitement. Listen, your Timmy’s comin’ home soon an’ you need ta look pretty for him.” Morgan grinned as she poured tea for the younger woman and set it on the table. “Besides,” she added as she pulled a loose strand of grayed-brown hair behind her ear. “Timmy hasn’t seen ya in nearly six months. I’d say th’ last thing he wants ta see is that threadbare thing you wear all th’ time.”

Megan laughed and felt her cheeks flush. “I suppose not,” she croaked. “But, maybe another day. And like I kept saying last night: I haven’t heard from him since his last letter. It’s a possibility that he won’t be coming home for another few weeks or another month.”

“Well, there are a few things I need to pick up at the market, so I’ll leave now.” Morgan reached for her headscarf and neatly put it on and tied it under her chin. “When I come back, we’ll see how you feel.”

Megan smiled and pulled her robe tighter around her shoulders. For a few minutes, she sat at the table holding her throbbing head in her hands. She thought she was dozing when a knock at the apartment door startled her.

“Who is it?” Megan croaked through the door.

“United States Military in search of a Mrs. Timothy W. Mangan.”

Megan opened the door and stared up at the tall, well-dressed Military officer.

“Mrs. Mangan?” the officer asked.

“Yes, that is me,” she answered.

“As an officer of the United States Army, it is my duty to present this to you.” The officer handed her a letter.

“What is it?” she asked him. “Is my husband coming home?”

The officer didn’t say anything at first, but just kept his perfect stature with feet together and arms straight at his sides.

“Is Tim coming home?” she asked again.

“Everything is explained in this letter, Ma’am.”

Megan’s heart was in her throat as she looked down to the envelope. The contents of this small paper pouch would change her life forever. In no way was she prepared to open and read it.

“Thank you,” she whispered and shut the door on the officer. Sinking to the floor with her back against the door, she spotted Danny standing in the kitchen doorway. Tears sprang from her eyes as she reached out for her son.

Danny cautiously walked into the kitchen and let his mother hold and cradle him.

“Mommy, what did that man want?”

Megan didn’t answer his question, but instead kept holding him and crying.

Danny began to whimper and tears began running down his face. “Mommy, what’s wrong? What did that man want?”

“I’ll explain it later, Danny,” Megan whispered to her son as she picked him up and took him to his bedroom. How do you explain something like this to someone who can’t understand? His Daddy wasn’t coming back!

“Mommy,” Danny pleaded as she set him down on his bed. “Is-is it Daddy?” he asked cautiously.

Megan lowered her head and nodded. “Yes,” she whispered. “He-he’s not coming home.”

Danny’s blue eyes clouded over in disappointment. “But Daddy said he’d be home soon.”

“I know, sweetie,” Megan croaked as she wiped her red and irritated eyes dry. “I know.” Gut wrenching pain struck her as she realized that she didn’t know the actual truth yet. She hadn’t read the letter. Maybe he was only injured. Megan’s eyes brightened for a second as she kissed Danny on the forehead. “I’m going to read the letter that that man gave me. Maybe it will say why Daddy couldn’t come home.”

Danny nodded and looked up at her as if he expected her to read the letter aloud to him, but his expectant look dropped to a frown when his mother left the room.

Megan shut her bedroom door and locked it. Sitting on her bed, she stared at the envelope, daring herself to open it. Instantly, she thought back to the old days when she first laid eyes on him.

“Hey, dig that chick over there, man,” Megan Regan overheard Ally Cat Mangan say to his band mate, Johnnie. “And just get a load of all that red hair! Mmmm-mmmm-mmm!”

“Why don’t you write her a song?” Johnnie suggested.

“Songs are just inadequate when it comes to someone like that.”

Johnnie laughed. “Take you’re sunglasses off, Tim, you realize you’re mooning over a kid?”

“Do I care, man? I’ll write her something. Don’t know if it’ll be a song though. Maybe a poem.”

Megan grinned as she sipped her soda, hoping that the two jazz singers didn’t know she could hear them.

Tim was eighteen. He quit school after his parents died and had lived on the streets ever since, running from the police. Megan was an orphan of sixteen who sneaked out of the orphanage every Friday and Saturday night just to see Ally Cat Mangan and the Strays bleed their hearts all over the stage at the Haven Coffee House where marijuana and cocaine was often passed to willing individuals. The first time she had ever heard him sing, he hit home with her and she felt an attraction growing: the attraction a young, innocent girl has for the older bad-boy who lived the risky life.

“Megan Regan?” Tim laughed. “That’s classic! I love that!”

“What’s wrong with it? I happen to like the name.” Megan flushed. There was nothing more embarrassing than a name that rhymed.

“Nothing’s wrong with it, kitten,” he replied and calmed down a little. “It’s almost sweet.”

“It’s unique is what it is,” Megan said sternly. She swore she saw a hint of delight in Tim’s cool blue eyes.

“It’s poetry.”

“Will you marry me, kitten?” Tim asked. “Right here and now, will you marry me?”

“Right now?

“Yes right now. Look, you’re old enough to get out of that place. Just tell that old cow where to get off and then get Billy and we’ll get married.”

“Tim, I’m not going to tell Mildred off. I’ll explain that I’m just leaving because I’m getting married.”

“Whatever. Just do it quickly, ‘cause I wanna marry you in the worst way!”

“I think I’ll call you Aurnia from now on,” Tim said to his fiery redheaded fiancée while walking in the park. “It means Golden Lady. Dad used to call Mom by that name. I thought I’d pass down the tradition.”

“Hey kitten, you can tell me. What’s wrong?”

“Mrs. Dempsey across the hall says that I’m pregnant. That’s why I’m so tired and sick all the time.”

All the color in Tim’s face drained as he carefully took a seat. “How are we gonna do this? I only play down at the coffee house once a week and over at the Jake’s for a few hours each day.”

Aurnia, baby. The war will be over before we know it and I’ll be home. You’ll see.

Megan took the first brave step and stuck her finger in the envelope and ripped along the side and pulled out a letter, followed by Tim’s dog tags.

Dear Mrs. Timothy W. Mangan,

It is with deepest regret to inform you of your husband’s death. On February 26, 1952, your husband, Private Timothy Winston Mangan, was killed in a car accident while on a mission near the North and South Korean border.

It was requested by Private Mangan that upon his death, you be contacted first and receive his belongings, which will be presented to you at a later date.

Please understand that your husband died while serving this grand country.

Funeral arrangements are in progress and we will be contacting you with further information.

Again, our deepest regrets to both you and your son.

Sincerely,

Gen. James A. Hoffmann, United States Military
Col. Marvin N. O’Reilly, United States Army

Megan’s heart fell apart. The same sick feeling she got when Tim left six months ago returned. She held onto her stomach and doubled over in pain. Throwing the letter aside, she hastily unlocked the bedroom door and headed for the bathroom, tightly clutching the dog tags as she ran.

Author's notes:

A very big thank you to Mary, the girl who'll make it after all, for proof reading Part 1 of the final chapter to Canon in Sleepyside. I've really had a lot of fun doing this and it's helped me out in becoming familiar with the different characters.

No permission was granted to me to use the following:

Dan Mangan, Sleepyside, William "Bill" Regan and Tim Mangan are all property of Western Publishing company and are affiliated with the Trixie Belden series...as if you didn't know that already.

"Elkhorn Hotel" and "Jakes Hamburger Place" are from Trixie Belden #12 "The Mystery of the Blinking Eye". I don't recall that the name of the street was ever mentioned, so I made that up. Only "Jake's Hamburger Place" is mentioned, but in the 1966 edition of "The Mystery of the Blinking Eye", the hotel in the picture on page 211 is named "Elkhorn Hotel."

Dan's mother remained nameless throughout the series, so her name is a creation of my own.

Before everyone starts accusing me that I'm off my rocker, I would like to explain about Bill Regan's death...well, you'll just have to read Act II wen it comes out... hahahaha