October 10, 1918

The days were soon growing too long, and boredom was reaching an all time peak. Ever since the Gretta had read him the letter, he hadn’t heard a word from Kurt. Of course, he had never replied to it. He hadn’t heard from Ella, so he kept re-reading her last letter to him. The only people to have been notified about his return were his mother and brother, and they told Ella and Cornelia. He hoped that one of them would be ready to meet him at the Hudson Harbor. There wasn’t a soul on the ship that he knew, and no one really cared to get to know him either. He found he couldn’t enjoy the library, or even the deck. He found the sea boring, seeing nothing but a solid blue horizon for the last two weeks of his voyage. He went to see the ship’s captain about a job in the kitchen, but the man wouldn’t allow it.

Walter Maypenny was bored and bound to go crazy. He knew it. All he could think about was Ella, whom he couldn’t wait to see and hold. Cornelia Vanderpoel was another charming face he couldn’t wait to rest his eyes upon, being his closest friend and confidant outside of Ella. However, he felt differently about Cornelia now, because she was married to the man who had betrayed his friendship and would naturally side with him over the matter. This made his heart long for companionship of any kind.

The trouble with Walter was that he had never been the out-going type. As a child, he never thought there would ever be a need for him to leave Sleepyside, for everything he wanted was right there from the general store just down the street to the borders of the piece of land his little family lived on. No one owned the land around their little pie-shaped property, so they freely hunted in order to keep themselves well fed.

Being a man who never ventured out beyond what he needed, he never bothered to meander around and see what else the ship had to offer. Every night, an orchestra would play; yet he never bothered to see it. He wasn’t interested in music at all. A group of theatrical players would gather together to put on performances, yet Walter never cared to see them. Theatrical productions just didn’t appeal to him at all. He never could get beyond the costumes and make-up, and often wondered just how hard-up for income someone would have to be to portray some oddball character instead of doing good, honest hard work that rewarded sweat with pay.

Unless he wanted to eat or stretch his legs for a while, Walter shut himself up in his little cabin and never came out until it was time for the ship to dock in the harbor. The fanfare created a mess and an awful lot of confusion. Confetti thrown everywhere, children with noisemakers, and women running to and fro looking for their loved ones were enough to make him run back up the ramp and hide in his cabin again, until he saw the loving, brown eyes of his Ella McKenzie, standing next to Cornelia Vanderpoel, his mother, and his younger brother, Ivan.

His legs couldn’t carry him fast enough straight into the arms of his love. He dropped his duffle bag and sack to hold her, bury his face in her neck, and squeezed her tight with his strong arms. For a long moment, the entire group circled around him, welcoming him home with hugs, kisses, questions, and more hugs.

~~~~~~~~

One Saturday, Walter and Ella took a walk through the forest. She carried the picnic basket, while he carried the lemonade his mother made. He had no ring for her, but she didn't find that important. The other girls cared about such things, but not Ella. That he knew. He knew he was safe by not presenting her with a ring.

The sun shone brightly through the trees, allowing little dots of light to shine on their shade as they sat, a tablecloth spread out across a grassy spot. He munched on a chicken leg as he watched her open the biscuit tin and pluck one out.

"Ella, remember what I promised before the war?" he asked, starting to feel nervous.

She nodded, her brown locks swaying in the breeze. "Of course, I remember."

"I don't want to wait long. I haven't told anyone, but I thought I was going to die, so, to ease my mind, I willed myself to think only of you. When I lost consciousness, I saw you."

Ella's eyes misted over, and she put the biscuit down on her plate. "Surely, you must've thought of your mother first."

"I tried to picture all the things from home that made me feel happy, but the only one that kept going through my mind over and over was you," he said, taking her hand. "I know that the only reason why I bothered to live was because you were waiting for me back home. I don't know how I would have survived any other way."

Ella blushed a little, feeling as if the sun were beating down on her, making her feel hot and stifled, as if she were suddenly put in the spotlight and asked to make a life-long decision. In fact, she was being asked to do so.

"You're asking me to marry you," she said, knowing that this was his intent, for he promised her when he left that, when he came back, there would no longer be any excuse for them to be so far apart anymore. "I accept," she said, her stomach full of butterflies.

Walter slid his hand around her waist, a very relieved grin spreading its way like wildfire across his features. "Then I hope it is appropriate for me to kiss you," he asked, mindful of the gossips that enjoyed the idea of the young people together, as well as the stories that they created when nothing was going on worth telling.

"Of course!" she cried, squeezing his hand, the sun's rays making her brown eyes twinkle with merriment. She tilted her head up to meet his lips for a deep kiss.

~~~~~~~~

The train pulled to a halt outside the train station not far from the capital building. A young man, with closely cropped blond hair and wearing a crisp, clean uniform, helped a young lady, dressed in clean, dark burgundy coat and matching bonnet down the steps and off the passenger car. Her jet-black curls bounced as she hurried down, taking her brother's hand. Her brown eyes reflected the sunlight, happy to be back on American soil, her own brother by her side and not in the air.

The first familiar thing she saw was her father's slightly gray, bushy mustache, in definite need of a trim, covering the top of his lip as he broadly grinned and opened his arms for his children. A woman of fifty-five hovered next to him, dressed in her dark green coat and bonnet, and dabbed her eyes with a linen handkerchief and rushed to her daughter's side to wrap her arms securely around her sturdy shoulders to welcome her home.

Gretta watched as her family crowded around, tears of happiness and relief shed as they held each other closely. Her father watched as his wife fussed over her son, his medals, his closely cropped hair, and never let her arm grow slack as she wrapped it around her son's elbow.

Gretta tightly hugged Christine and Frederick, tears of happiness streaming down her cheeks, telling them over and over again just how happy she was to be home and in the arms of her own family.

The train ride home had been a lively affair, listening to Alex talk about his adventures, and their parents tell of the war from the home perspective. She listened as her younger sister and brother talked up a storm about the noble soldiers who went off to war, and how heroic they were. Fighting urges to lay the realities of war out for her family to hear, she bit back every chance. Some day she would tell them what she had seen, but for now, she would let them talk.

~~~~~~~~

21 months later
Saturday, July 24, 1920

Gretta sped down the dirt road towards the little town of Sleepyside in her father’s brand new car. Taking the corners a little faster than she should, the little Ford Model A shook and shimmied as she hit every single bump. The final festivities for Crabapple Days were about to commence in less than an hour, and she was extremely late. She would make it on time if everything went all right.

She rounded the bend along Glen Road and hit a rather large rock, knocking the pin out of the axle and her tire loose. She slammed on the brakes and jerked the steering wheel to pull over, but it was too late. The tire slid off the axle and rolled over to the other side of the road while the little car plunged forward, bending the entire axle and ruining the other wheel.

Gretta was all right, but her ego was severely damaged. If anyone had seen the way she had been driving, she would be sure to receive a good scolding, not to mention criticism. She was the reason why women were highly regarded as the worst drivers known to mankind. As she climbed from the wreckage and stumbled back up to the road, horror overcame her as she saw steam rising from the engine. Her father was not going to be very happy.

As if things weren’t bad enough already, just down the road, a man on horseback came around the other corner, riding towards her. She blushed furiously, wanting to die a thousand deaths. She couldn’t believe she had been so stupid, and now a man was coming along to laugh at her. Swallowing whatever was left of her pride, Gretta straightened out her dress and marched across the road to grab the hopelessly bent-out-of-shape wheel that had rolled to a stop. By the time she reached the wheel, the horseman had come closer.

Suddenly, he stopped. Without looking at him, she dragged the wheel back across the road and leaned it up against the car. It was severely damaged where it had hit the rock that still sat in the middle of the road. She glared at the offending object and then sighed, wondering just what she was going to do. She knew nothing about cars.

The horseback rider dismounted and approached her, horse in tow. Her face was beet red with embarrassment, and she could almost hear the laughter, or the sarcastic remarks this man would be sure to make.

“Don’t know much about cars,” the man said, casually moving closer, “but I’m sure you could probably patch it up, and it’ll be as good as new in no time.”

“Patch it up?” she asked, making a face. “What do you mean, ‘patch it up’?” she asked, turning to face him, instantly recognizing a face she hadn’t seen in nearly two years. “Walter!” she cried, putting the fingertips of her gloved left hand to her mouth as she held her other hand out for him to take. He looked at it for a second, but didn’t take it.

“I mean, Private Maypenny,” she said, not able to hide the fact that she was actually quite delighted to see him. “How have you been?”

“It’s just Walter. I’m all right. You?”

Gretta looked back at her father’s car. “At the moment, I’m facing death by wrath of my father. When he finds out about this, he’s going to kill me.”

Walter’s eyes lowered to the ground. “Gregory Delanoy in town might be able to help you with this,” he said quietly. “What happened?”

“I was driving like a crazy.”

Walter’s eyes met hers and then drifted back to the car again. The steam still coming out of the engine.  The car was truly a very sorry sight.

“I was late to the fair,” she explained. “I am one of the judges in the apple pie contest, but it looks as if I won’t be doing that now. Have you been to the fair yet? I haven’t seen you there.”

“No. I haven’t gone since the war.”

There was a hint of regret in his voice that made Gretta’s heart break into a million pieces. An event he loved to go to for so many years now was something he hasn’t been able to enjoy.

“There were eight soldiers there,” she said and gulped, unsure of whether or not the next thing she was about to say was such a wise idea. “Even Kurt was there.”

“So I heard,” he said, heading over to her car. “Better get your purse. I’ll take you into town to Delanoy’s, and he can help you.”

She nodded, understanding his tone. He obviously didn’t want to discuss his friend, Kurt, and he didn’t want to talk about the war. She reached in through the window and took her purse and let him help her up onto the horse. Her skirts rode up a little, showing her the calves of her legs.

“You don’t have to worry about offending anyone,” he said, pointing to her leg. “Delanoy's house is just a few miles down the road, and everyone who lives along here is at the fair. That’s why I took old Percy out for a ride. It’s peaceful when there is no one around.”

“So, what have you been doing since I last saw you?” she asked, steadying herself on the old horse.

“Nothing.”

“Nothing? What about your girlfriend, Ella?”

“What about her?”

Gretta frowned. “You did marry her, didn’t you? I mean, she was all you could talk about at the hospital.”

“Nope.”

“NO?” she cried. “Walter, she was the sun and moon! She was the reason you bothered to live! Didn’t she wait for you?”

Walter stopped and looked up at the young nurse who had once been his source of sanity during one of the most trying times of his entire life. “Gretta, the war changed all who were involved.  Don’t deny it. Ella McKenzie was in love with the man who went off to war, not the man who came home. I don’t want to talk any more about it.” With that, he turned around and continued to lead the horse down the road.

“The war changed me, too,” Gretta replied, ignoring his request to not to continue the discussion. “I’m not going to even try to deny it. There isn’t a day that goes by when my brother doesn't have nightmares of being shot down. I have nightmares that I’m back at the hospital. But, I have…”

“Spare me your usual garbage,” Walter spat. “You’re so stinking optimistic about life that it just makes me sick. You know what happened between me and Kurt when he arrived home? I confronted him like you said I should. I let my words do the talking, instead of my fists. You know what I learned? I learned that things will probably never be the same between any of us ever again. Kurt and Cornelia Vanderpoel haven’t spoken to me ever since, and quite frankly, I don’t miss it. Do you know why? Because they don’t want to understand just what I went through for him. Kurt didn’t want to go alone. I didn’t want to go at all, but I did anyway, and nearly got myself killed, while he suffered a broken arm, and then has the nerve to tell me how he laid in bed in a hospital in Paris and wondered if he would be forced to go back into fighting once again. You know what that is? That is garbage. I let Kurt know that and how I cheated death.

"Let me tell you something, Gretta,” he said, his slender face growing bright red. “If ever this world has another war like that, I will put the bullet through my brain before I let anyone force me to go back there and fight like that again. I’m done with war, and there isn’t anything you or anyone else can say that would make me sign up again. Best friend or anyone. If they go off to war, they are on their own. Don’t expect Walter Maypenny to ever do this again.”

With that, he turned around, tugged on the reins and led the way again. Gretta lowered her eyes, fighting the tears that brimmed her eyelids. For the rest of the way, she said nothing, but just kept her eyes fixed on the flowing black mane of the gray horse. He stopped in front of a small house and tied Percy’s reins to the old hitching post. Instead of waiting for Walter to help her down, Gretta swung her leg over and jumped down on her own and gave him a scowl.

If he’s going to be a pain to deal with, then I don’t need his help anymore than necessary!

“Gregory?” he called out, peeking into the small garage attached to the filling station while wandering up to the front door. A young man came to the door. “Hi, Jimmy. Where’s Gregory?”

“He’s up at the fair. I’m watching the station today. Is there a problem?”

“I found this lady on the side of the road, and she needs help with her automobile.”

“All right,” he said, stepping outside and closing the door. He shook hands with Gretta and introduced himself. “I’ll drive her back to her car, Wally. Thanks.”

“Yep. See you around, Jimmy,” he said, untying his horse and mounting it. He looked down at the young woman he had once grown rather fond of, but now detested. “I will see you around one of these days, Gretta,” he said, nodding his head and tipping his hat. “So long.” With that, he clicked his teeth and turned old Percy around.

“Jimmy, what has happened to Walter since the war?” she asked the young man on the drive back to her car.

“You knew him before he found you today?”

“I was a nurse with the Red Cross stationed at an Army hospital and met him over there,” she explained. “He was going to marry Ella McKenzie. What happened?”

Jimmy shook his head. “Ella and Walter were engaged and were going to be married. But, she ended up being one of the millions of people in this country who couldn’t understand the changes in a soldier who had just come home from an incredibly bloody war. Joseph Lytell, who runs the general store just further down Glen Road, knows more about it, but what it boils down to is that Ella and Walter just grew apart.” He pulled up alongside her car and stopped. “Wow! Wally wasn’t just whistlin’ Dixie! You really did a number on your car! What happened?”

“I hit a rock.”

“I have never seen a rock do that kind of damage to a car!” He opened his door and approached the wrecked car. “This is going to take a lot more work than I thought.”

~~~~~~~~

It wasn’t until very late when Gretta pulled into the driveway at home. A light was burning, and she knew she was going to be in for quite a discussion. Her father would want to see the car, and when he did, he wasn’t going to be happy. Her mother was probably worried sick and had long since sent her brothers out to look for her. Her mother’s figure appeared in the front door.

“What happened?” she asked, taking her daughter by the hands and taking a look at the car.

“I hit a rock and had some car trouble,” Gretta explained, hoping that her mother would leave it at that.

“You never made it to the fair?”

“No.”

“Well, that’s all right. Your father will look at the car when he comes home.”

“I suppose he’s out searching for me?”

“He and Alex took the pickup to the fairgrounds.”

Gretta took her gloves off and accepted a cup of tea from her mother. “Father will be furious when he finds out.” She dug into her coat pocket and pulled out a slip of paper. “This is from Delanoy’s Service Station. I’ll pay Father the ten dollars when I can.”

“He’ll be happy that you’re all right,” her mother said, folding up the slip and putting it down on the table. “That’s the most important part. But, get ready for a lecture on your driving,” she said, a smile coming to her features. “Now don’t worry anymore about it and get to bed.”

December 24, 1920

Walter added the last chunk of wood to the cart and threw the axe in after it. He had been out for a long time and was dying to get back inside where it was warm. No doubt, his mother had something warm waiting for him. Christmas was always such a hassle. He never had a good time, like everyone else seemed to have, and he never really saw the point in the whole thing. He was not jolly and saw no reason to be. He did not go out visiting, nor did he give presents. If anything, he wanted to be left alone on Christmas, and ever since Christmas Day, 1918, his first Christmas since the war, he hated the holiday all the more.

His mother loved to celebrate, but because the cabin was so far away from town, she always spent the day calling on her friends with Ivan, who liked to meet the young ladies. Walter preferred spending the day at home, away from everyone and everything, and not being bothered. He wasn’t against the holiday, and if others wanted to celebrate, then so be it. Let them. But he didn’t want to, and no one was going to force him to do it.

After putting Percy away and unloading all the wood, he came in to warm up. As he thought, something warm was definitely waiting for him—hot cocoa.

“Walter, before we head to town tomorrow, I want you to make sure the feeding stations are full,” his mother said, just before heading to bed that night. “Are you sure you won’t come with us?”

He nodded, munching on the peach cobbler she had made.

“Suit yourself. If you’re going to stay home then, maybe you can help prepare the dinner. I have invited the Vanderpoels for dinner.”

His head shot up. “Why would you do that?”

“Because they are my friends,” she answered. “They are your friends, too, Walter, and you know it.”

“Friends don’t stab you in the back after all you had gone through for them.”

She wrapped the shawl tighter around her husky shoulders and stood up. “You know, being Christmas and all, I probably shouldn’t say this, but ever since the war, you’ve really been difficult. I mean, you are nasty to everyone, short tempered, and quite frankly, I don’t very much care for it. I also probably shouldn’t say this, but I am very sick of your attitude lately. But, since you’re the man of the house, and my eldest boy, I suppose I should bite my tongue. So, have a good night, and maybe you can think of something else to do rather than associate with good people who care about me, Ivan and, oddly enough, you.” Without saying anything more, she headed to her own bedroom and shut the door.

Walter continued to eat his cobbler and drink his hot cocoa. Ivan sat in the other room, staring into the fire. Even Ivan had seen these changes in his own brother ever since that day he came home. What he had mistakenly thought was the look of urgency in his eyes was really the dread of coming back home to a world where people would not understand. It was true that neither he nor his mother understood, and, obviously, neither did Ella or Cornelia. Kurt tried to make amends, but in his brother’s own bullheaded stubbornness, he refused to be friends with Kurt again.

Hopefully, things would change tomorrow.

“I’m going to bed, too,” he said, getting up from the living room and facing Walter. “Have a good night.”

Walter didn’t say anything. Without any real show of emotion, he stood and carried his plate to the sink.

No one understands the pain of a friend who did nothing while I nearly died. No one could possibly understand how Ella was my driving force, and she didn’t even have the grace to love me for it in the end. No one could ever understand that the woman I once loved was someone I gave up because of another, and even she talked to me with venom-filled words. What I had seen and done in the war was something I wouldn’t wish on anyone, not even the enemy. Rotting bodies in the trenches, disease infested rats, and not knowing if you were going to live or die. Gunfire sounding from overhead cannons firing in the distance, young vibrant men heading into war with gusto only to be heading home with nightmares, missing limbs, disease…or in a box.

And people still talk to me like I should just forget all that I’ve seen, come home, and pick up where I left off. These people didn’t just have all their innocence and sanity ripped from them, their minds raped with terror and bloodshed.

Yes, I killed six Germans before I was shot down. I see those eyes in my sleep every night, and I don’t just dream their screams—I hear them everywhere. Thank God, I was hit before I could kill any more.

Walter sat on the old couch and stared into the fire. Tears streamed down his cheeks as the heat warmed his body, but did nothing for his soul.

If anyone could understand, it would be Gretta.

Meanwhile, in a small home in White Plains…

Gretta hung her gown from its hanger and stared at it for a while. Its dark green folds barely shimmered in the golden glow of the oil lamp on her bureau. It was too simple for a dress to go dancing in, but all the same, it was just right for her. She knew her friends would dress fancier, but she didn’t care. She hoped that this would be the first Christmas where no one talked about the war. She felt put in the spotlight when someone would make a toast to peace, because they were really making a toast to those who fought and served, or so she felt.

She actually wished she didn’t have to go this year, but her parents had insisted. Honestly, she was a grown woman and didn’t need to do any of this, but her mother insisted. Socializing was the best means of getting back to her life once again. Even Alex was going, but he had an intended, so he was free of the meddling matchmakers who were constantly trying to pair Gretta up with other eligible young men.

Gretta loved Eliza Worthington like a sister, but felt that she was more in love with the fact that Alex was a pilot rather than in love with Alex himself. She proudly bragged about her beau, “one of the American Aces,” as she would say. For as much as Gretta was thankful that Baron Von Richtoffen had been shot down, she was glad that it hadn’t been Alex who had done it. Eliza would wear that as if it were her own medal of honor. It was just the type of woman she was, and everyone knew that. However, Alex was not a stupid man by any means, so if he saw this and stayed by her side, he most likely saw a deeper side of Eliza that no one else saw, or so Gretta hoped.

The previous Christmas, she had been pushed towards Albert Xavier Thomas, the son of one of the richest men in Westchester County. He was very attractive, but didn’t think the same of Gretta, and therefore, sought other girls of society to flirt with. Not to fear, however, Gretta was soon introduced to Edward Kline, grandson of one of New York City’s most prominent bankers.

He was a fine person, and, while they became friends, nothing ever came of it. She hoped that if she happened to see Edward tonight, they might share a dance. He was a great dancer, and very entertaining, but she had her fears about him. She had not seen him lately and feared that he might be spending his time with a love interest all of his own. For that, she would be very happy for him, but she couldn’t help but feel that, once again, this Christmas, she would be lonely for companionship.

Not if all the old hens have anything to say about it, she thought, turning down the light until it snuffed.

December 25, 1920

Westchester County’s social elite were present, making Gretta feel out of place as always. Her parents were not part of this class, yet they constantly tried to rub shoulders with those who were.

Very quickly, she spotted Edward Kline, naturally leading a very pretty debutante around and introducing her to everyone. She seemed to fit in very well with the socialites, but Gretta saw something in her that was unmistakable. She was middle class and there was no hiding it.

She looked as if she had been referred to several young ladies and dressed up like a doll. She wore a shimmering, silver gown that clung tightly to her very shapely frame. A skullcap sporting feathers and gems was fitted down over her brown curls that had been generously oiled and pressed to her forehead and cheeks.

None of the other women were dressed like this, truly the Cinderella of the ball—a woman dressed up in clothing that didn't suit her at all.

Edward turned his head and smiled the minute their eyes met. Politely ending the conversation, he gently turned his beauty queen in Gretta’s direction and led her across the ballroom floor.

“How lovely to see you here,” he said, gently taking a hold of her hand and kissing just above the knuckles. “Margaret, I would love for you to meet someone.”

The other woman’s blue eyes, which were twinkling just a moment ago, looked very dull and her smile faded.

“Meet Ella McKenzie. Ella, this is Margaret Trempealeau, my very good friend.”

Gretta held her breath. Oh, how much she wanted to attack this woman, let alone the man she was hanging onto. How could she!

“Glad to meet you,” Gretta forced out, glaring into the eyes of the woman whom she felt betrayed one of her very good friends. But was Walter a good friend? She didn’t know. But, she felt very upset just the same. “If you’ll excuse me, Edward, I have…” She was at a loss for words. She wanted to give a meager excuse to leave, something that he might believe, but couldn’t come up with any. “I just have to go.” With that, she lifted the hem of her gown and spun around to leave.

She grabbed her coat, left a message for her parents, and left, vowing that no matter what, she would never see those people ever again. Edward was not really at fault, that she knew, but so hoped that one day, he would learn of Ella’s past and the man she was to marry.

She hailed a cab and asked to be taken to the town square. Her mind was racing, sudden thoughts about a certain man whom she cared deeply about surfacing. Pain burned her heart as she realized that she truly loved him, yet all he had to say to her were painful, hurtful things. He had nothing nice to say to her at all, so why should she care for him so much? She kept the tears from falling until she took her seat on a park bench just outside the Town Hall.

Carolers wandered Main Street, joyfully singing songs of praise. Gently, snow fell to the ground, muffling noises from the busy street of the small town. Men and women strolled along and listened to the young choir, even joining in for a few verses. A few boys chased each other around the Square while young girls walked along with dignity, like grown-up young ladies.

Trying to be sensible about things, Gretta dried her tears and began thinking of all the reasons why loving Walter was not a very good idea, but the more she thought about it, the harder it had become to convince herself of this.

She couldn’t help it, though. Walter had become someone she cared for considerably, but she supposed that it was merely a crush. It was obvious he was not interested in her. Why should he have been? Ella had just given up on him. He was in no shape for developing a friendship into something deeper, not after being thrown away for a man of high society.

Damn you, Ella, you...you vamp!

Before long, it was certainly time to be going home. Checking to see if she had enough for a cab ride back up to White Plains, she straightened her coat and stuffed both her hands in her muff and hailed a cab.

“Long way to go in this cold,” the driver commented, helping her into the buggy and shutting the door.

“It’s all right,” she said, leaning back.

He headed out of town and turned off Glen Road to travel down Old Telegraph Road, which would take him straight to White Plains.

~~~~~~~~

Walter walked out on dinner, leaving everyone else behind while he saddled his horse for a short ride. He needed to clear his head. Neither Kurt nor Cornelia had been very friendly to him, yet he had been urged to pretend as if nothing had ever happened. He couldn’t pretend such a thing, even if he tried. Night after night, he dreamed of the hellish life he lived in the trenches, the screams, the bombs, and the madness of it all. Now, he was being asked to live as if none of it had ever happened.

He walked old Percy down Glen Road, towards Albany Post Road.

That’s just what Ella wanted me to do. Forget. You can’t forget these things. You just can’t. I’ll live with this nightmare for the rest of my life, and if Ella can’t live with it, then it’s for the best.

Walter found solace in his own thoughts. He loved Ella very much. She was his entire life. However, as loving and kind as she could be, she would never ever begin to understand his pain within. Ella couldn’t handle the nightmare, and he wasn’t about to force her to live it with him. He loved her enough to give her freedom from a life of painful memories. His nightmares grew worse by the day, and he couldn’t imagine what life would be like years from now.

As the days went on, however, he found himself not really dwelling on how he lost Ella. He figured that perhaps this was what moving on was like, and he was sure he could get through the heartbreak. However, heartbreak seemed like nothing compared to what he had been through in the war.

Every night, harsh words were always spoken about one thing or another at the cabin. His mother refused to believe that her son was going through anything other than self-pity, and was determined to get him to snap out of his attitude. Ivan didn’t understand and didn’t appear to want to, either. Cornelia and Kurt Vanderpoel were very different people to come back to, especially Kurt. He talked about his time in Russia as if it were a positive experience. He chattered on about the revolutionists and Bolsheviks, acting as if it were all just entertainment. The Czar, Czarina and their children were executed for what? So that Kurt would have fascinating stories to tell when he got home.

This made Walter sick to his stomach, but no one seemed to understand that. His mother told him to snap out of it, Ivan took great interest in the stories, as if they were just fairy tales, and Ella made comments about uniforms, and how handsome Walter looked in his.

If it wasn’t the nightmares from this war driving him insane, it was how people reacted around him. Couldn’t they see how they were? Couldn’t they see that war was nothing fantastical, but real?

For God’s sake! I killed six very real men! And then people have the gall to be offended when I turned down my medals of honor! It’s as if the world has gone completely mad, and I’m the only sane one.

He often wondered if the other soldiers were going through this same thing with their lives. He hadn’t heard anything about these men, for they were more than likely shipped back home to their families.

~~~~~~~~

The cab ambled along, hitting every bump in the road, not allowing Gretta to sit back and relax. This had been her first Christmas where she actually regretted going out at all.

Maybe life is going to be different from now on? Maybe things just can’t be like they were. I suppose things will always be different now, no matter what.

Gretta’s heart sunk at her own thoughts. It was pretty obvious she had been foolish in her thinking. While Ella McKenzie paraded around with Edward Kline, Walter Maypenny was growing bitterer by the minute, and it seemed that no amount of optimism was going to help. Gretta didn’t know what else to try with him. She thought that she could offer some sunshine into his dark world, but he didn’t seem to want it or even care about it.

It was pretty obvious he wanted to be left alone, and if she loved him as much as she thought she did, she would leave him alone.

The driver slowed and steered the horse over just a bit to allow room for a passerby. Gretta didn’t think much of it, except for when she saw a glimpse of the familiar, old gray horse walk by, her heart gave a leap. She didn’t recognize the rider, for he was bundled up in heavy clothing. But she knew the horse as Walter Maypenny’s old Percy.

Her first reaction was to tell the driver to stop, but thought the better of it. She remembered how harshly he had spoken to her before, and what sort of good news could she possibly have to tell him? That Ella McKenzie was now the Belle of the Christmas Ball and on the arm of some other man? She couldn’t give him this kind of news; it would crush him.

She twisted around in her seat and pulled aside the black flap that covered the back window. She began to wonder why anyone would be out horseback riding by themselves this late at night on Christmas. Anyone, but her, that is. She had to get out of that party. One more look at Ella and she was going to forget who she was and where she was and possibly do something she would regret.

Why would Walter be out alone, too?

December 31, 1920

Gretta was hoping that her parents would not say too much about her skipping the New Year's ball that night, or, at the very least, not ask her any questions. Both had been suspicious about her sudden departure from the Christmas party the week previous. No one had said anything when she announced that she would probably miss this one, but her mother still acted as if her daughter were going.

Unable to be secretive any more, she finally gave in. It was better than trying to explain to everyone how she had no desire to see Edward or Ella that night. However, being that her reasons were not valid in the eyes of her mother, who did not know of Walter Maypenny or the whole situation, she figured it would just be better to give in and just try her hardest to avoid them. If she busied herself with some other friends, possibly they would leave her alone.

“Margaret Trempealeau, how lovely to see you,” Mrs. Bailey said, coolly looking at the young woman through very thick eyelashes. “Of course, you remember my daughter, Jacqueline?”

Gretta smiled. “Of course I do,” she said, taking her cue from the other girl and leaning forward for a very quick kiss on the cheek. “It’s been a while, hasn’t it?”

Jacqueline fluttered her lashes and smiled. “Yes, it has.”

Gretta noticed that Jacqueline’s attention had not really been on her or the conversation. In fact, she was watching someone else across the ballroom floor.

“If you’ll excuse me, Margaret, I simply must talk to my old friend. We haven’t seen each other in, oh, forever!”

She hurried away but not without first squeezing Gretta’s arm and making an empty promise to make a dinner date sometime.

“Ah, my young Jacqueline,” Mrs. Bailey sighed. “She is sure in demand these days. I remember when it was all tea parties. Now, she’s off with her friends, up and down Fifth Avenue, or off with that handsome Calvin Atchison.”

“Yes, I suppose she is.”

“But she’s a lovely thing—so beautiful.”

Gretta nodded absentmindedly and just continued to watch as the couples on the floor danced to the band playing at the head of the ballroom. She had to get out of here again before she laid eyes on Edward, whom she heard through the grapevine was still dating Ella McKenzie. Deciding that it was just gossip, she decided that the rumors of marriage were just that.

Smartly-dressed servants quickly scattered about the large ballroom, distributing tall champagne flutes to all in attendance.

“Ladies and gentlemen,” the bandleader said aloud, across the large ballroom. “The man of the hour, Mr. Henry Harrington and his lovely wife, Loretta!”

If this announcement had been made earlier, the applause might have been bigger. However, some had already started celebrating the New Year early on in the evening and were already feeling the effects. Some were continuing their drinking just to keep from feeling those effects.

“Thank you,” he said, hushing the crowd. “To start off the New Year, I would like to make a toast. To a prosperous new year, to many new friends and new loves, and most importantly, to our health. Now, according to my pocket watch, we have thirty seconds. Here’s saying good-bye to old times, and hello to the new. What do you think this new decade will bring? Good-bye teens and hello twenties! New prospects await us all!”

To that, everyone simply nodded and raised their glasses. Some took a sip and then realized that they should have waited.

“Are you ready? Ten seconds!”

“Ten! Nine! Eight! Seven! Six! Five! Four! Three! Two! One! Happy New Year, everyone! Happy New Year!”

Mr. Harrington leaned down to kiss his wife while everyone else in the grand ballroom began the mass orgy of kissing, hugging, dancing, some accidentally spilling their champagne on each other. The band began playing Auld Lang Syne, and everyone tried to sing along to the best of their abilities. Edward Kline grabbed his beautiful date around the waist and kissed her soundly. “Happy New Year, Ella,” he whispered into her ear as they slowly danced in each other’s arms. “Let’s do it this year. What do you think?”

“Get married?” she asked, her dark eyes sparkling.

“Yes. Let’s get married!”

Ella’s true smile could be seen through all the make up and jewelry she wore. Instead of the cool, nearly emotionless smiles that she had practiced along with the squinted eyes and pouty lips, the old Ella that everyone from Sleepyside remembered came bursting out as she leapt towards Edward and hugged him tightly.

Ella wasn’t the only lady Edward had hoped to ring in the New Year with a kiss. He had hoped that Gretta would have been there, too. He knew she was upset with him over something, but he couldn’t figure out what. He chalked it up to something only women would understand, but a nagging feeling inside told him differently. He would have to talk with Gretta soon. Very soon. She was someone he could talk to freely about whatever bothered him. She never made any judgments based on his family, or anything else he couldn’t control. While everyone was quick to write him off as a rich man’s son, she was quick to see his human side, and he liked that in a friend.

But, Gretta was nowhere to be found. No one had seen her anywhere.

Meanwhile, just outside of town on Glen Road…

Walter steered old Percy over to the side of the road for the car in front of him to pass. Instead of passing, however, the car stopped right in front of him.

The driver inside was bundled up, but he knew exactly who it was. Gretta Trempealeau.

Why can’t she just leave me the hell alone?

“Walter!” she cried, shutting the car off and pulling on the parking brake. “Wait!”

There was something about her tone that didn’t settle too well with him. It wasn’t her usual bright and sunny voice. There was something wrong, and it suddenly mattered to him.

She jumped out of the car and ran up to him, sliding on the snow with her dress shoes. She wore a party dress, not the kind of dress a woman would wear in this kind of weather for just a regular outing.

“What’s wrong?” he asked.

“Plenty of things!”

He jumped down from his horse and took a hold of her hands. “You’re freezing cold! Don’t you know better than to be out in this weather without proper clothes on?”

“We were at a New Year’s party. Things just didn’t go right, so I left. Mother and Father are going home in the truck with Alex. So, I took the car.”

“Come on back to the cabin. You can sit by the fire and warm up.”

She nodded and headed back to her car. “I’ll follow you.”

Walter laughed. “Maybe just down the road. There is nowhere for you to park at the cabin. There is no road. Just horse trails.”

“Horse trails,” she repeated. “Well, I can’t let this thing sit out here like this. Isn’t there anywhere else I could put it?”

He thought for a while. “Can you horseback ride with that dress on?”

Her dress wasn’t exactly the best for riding.

“If I ride side-saddle.”

“All right. Do this. Balance yourself in the saddle and hang on to the reins. I’ll guide you to the cabin and get you situated. Then, I’ll come back and get your car.”

“Can you drive?”

“I can do all right.  I had to learn in the war.”

Gretta nodded. “Here you go then,” she said, handing over the keys to her father’s Model A Ford. “Be careful with it. I had to beg and plead to drive it after what happened last time.”

Walter chuckled and took them from her. Slowly, he helped her up on the horse and led her back to the empty cabin. He knew his mother and Ivan were going to be out for the rest of the night, so there would be no one else there to bother them.

Once he had her by the fireplace, a blanket wrapped around her and a cup of steaming hot stew in her hands, he left for her car.

~~~~~~~~

Gretta had never been inside his cabin. She had never been any further than Glen Road. She wondered what he was going to do with her car and hoped that he wouldn’t wreck it. She knew he didn't drive very often and preferred to get around by horseback.

The sofa had a bear hide draped over the back and several blankets folded neatly, resting on the seat. Beside a wooden rocking chair was a basket of yarn, knitting needles, and some kind of project that had been started.

With the help of the warm, crackling fire beside her and the wood stove in the kitchen, Gretta found that she was warming up quite a bit and having a hard time staying awake. Finally, she kicked off her shoes and let the blanket slide off her shoulders a bit.

~~~~~~~~

Walter stopped by the woodshed and grabbed a few logs before heading back to the cabin. His initial reaction aside, he was actually rather pleased that she had come running out to see him. There was suddenly an extra skip in his step, and he found himself very nervous to go back inside. He made sure her car was very well cared for down at the farm in the hollow where the Belden family lived. Harold and Maxine Belden along with their seven-year-old son Andrew, lived with Harold’s parents, who had moved to America at the turn of the century from The Netherlands. They had more than enough room to take Gretta’s car for a while and would make sure nothing happened to it.

When he opened the back door, he found her sitting by the roaring fire, sleepily slouched against the brick, the blanket hanging open and her shoes lying on the floor. She had not noticed his arrival, or else she would have looked up from the fire.

“Comfortable?” he asked, not knowing what else to say.

She jumped. “I didn’t hear you come in!” she said, hurriedly covering herself up with the blanket, being careful not to spill her stew.

“It’s all right,” he said, helping himself to a cup of stew. “Do you like it?”

“The stew? It’s wonderful!”

“Glad you like it. My brother and I each got a couple of bucks this year, so we’ll have plenty to eat. This is my mother’s recipe. Venison stew.”

“Father calls it Hunter’s Stew. His mother used to make it.”

“Hunter’s Stew is a good name for it since whatever we hunt goes in it.” He took a seat on the hearth next to her. “So, what’s wrong? What brought you racing clear out here?”

“New Year’s. Everyone was talking about starting brand new. Brand new year, brand new decade, you know. Well, that’s all fine with me, except they were talking about forgetting the bad things that have happened and charging ahead, looking forward to happier times. Walter, this made me think about us. Forgetting the bad times.”

“Gretta, for you, it might be possible to forget those times, but for me, it isn’t. Every night is a trip back to the trenches, seeing men in my unit die, hearing bombs exploding and bullets screaming overhead. It’ll be a long time before I can forget that.”

“I don’t want you to forget it, Walter,” she said, gingerly moving her hand on top of his. “I’ll never forget those times, too. I still have nightmares about the dying men, the trauma, the blood and everything else that came with working at the hospital. What I want us to forget is how we’ve treated each other ever since then.”

Walter’s sad eyes met hers, and for the first time, he could see the same sadness in her own dark brown eyes. Here was someone who, for all this time, was the only person who had any idea what he had been through, yet she was the one he was pushing away the most.

“I’ve been an ass to you, Gretta. You must hate me.”

“I could never hate anyone, Walter, especially not you. I used to love our late-night talks in the hospital. I miss those. It was the only thing keeping me sane during the war.”

“It wasn’t just that, though. You went above and beyond, and I never bothered to say thank you or anything for finding Kurt. We’re still not good friends, especially after what was said at the dinner table on Christmas, but deep inside, I’m really thankful that he is alive and came home to a wife who loves and needs him.”

“I’m sorry, Walter.”

He shrugged. “Kurt and I will work it out sooner or later. For now, there’s too much between us.”

He could tell that Gretta had something to say, but was holding her tongue.

“Thank you for not becoming a referee or something between us, Gretta. It means a lot to me that we settle this ourselves.”

She smiled and squeezed his hand. “I would like to see you two friends again. I won’t lie about that. Honestly, to throw away a close bond like a friendship over what happened during a war is just foolishness, but I’ll keep my mouth shut on it and let you work it out.”

Walter’s eyes narrowed, but before he could pull his hand away from hers, he realized just what she had done.

“You know, I don’t think I’ll ever get over your ability to sneak in a scolding just before promising that you won’t scold me.”

They talked into the night, just like they used to back at the hospital in France. She ended up falling asleep on the couch, still wrapped up in the blanket. Before going to bed, Walter made sure she was comfortable before heading to his own bed.

The stern lecture Gretta received when she arrived home was more or less for the fact that she had the car and didn’t bring it home. Then, her morality was questioned. Always trying to keep up their appearances, her parents were very concerned about what others thought. So, the idea that someone might think that their daughter spent the night at some man’s house—a man that no one of high social class would know—was disturbing for them. But, it was quickly dropped. After all, their daughter was over twenty-one.

All Gretta would tell her parents was that she visited an old acquaintance and got to talking until very late and ended up falling asleep. She promised that she had made sure the car was all right, and that the man she happened to be with was a perfect gentleman and that nothing, outside of rekindling a soured friendship, had happened.

Actually, a lot more happened than that, Gretta thought to herself as she lay in bed that night. She couldn’t get his smile out of her head. He had less than perfect teeth, and probably hadn’t seen a dentist’s chair in ages, or at all, and was in dire need of a haircut. Anyone could argue that he was a scruffy recluse of a man, and they would be right.

But, aside from his faults, Gretta found him to be a wonderful friend, and more importantly, someone she could love. She hadn’t told him that last night, but figured it would come out sooner or later.

Part Three -->