part 2 chapter

36

i heard ma’s voice calling to mary as i mounted the porch steps. they were in the

upstairs back of the house, and ma was asking for help in finding something. for a moment i

remained there quietly, soaking in the hot smell of oak and cedar trees across from the house,

the indigo hills behind the fields, and the longed-for familiarity of the voices within. i also

needed a moment to rein in my feelings before i was swept away by those of my family. finally,

i opened the door and called out. “ma? pa? i’m home!”

tish was the first to reach the door. she looked as if she had seen a ghost. she called over her

shoulder, “ma, come quick! it’s tom!”

tish threw her arms around my neck, and over her head i could see the others running toward

us. the women smothered me in hugs, as pa beamed, waiting for them to finish so that he could

greet me. he sheepishly wiped at the tears rolling down his cheeks. ma clung to my arm as if i

might run off at any second.

eventually, mary said, “we should leave you be for a while. you might like to wash some of

that travel grime away.” tears filmed her eyes as she smiled at me.

ma reminded me that my shirts and pants were hanging in the cupboard where i’d left them,

and pa had an extra pair of boots for my use. they were worn but at least had intact soles. i went

to my room, closed the door, and collapsed on the bed, where i wept into my pillow like an

infant. during the past year, i’d never thought i would see home again.

while they waited for my return downstairs, tish and mary planned a celebration dinner.

four months after the war’s end, the shelves of staunton stores were still bare. so my sisters had

set off through the woods with their foraging basket and returned with their finds. the three

women sauteed mushrooms, boiled dandelion greens seasoned with apple vinegar, and used the

last of pa’s secret garden potatoes. for dessert, there were wild grapes and mint drizzled with a

spoonful of tatternook’s honey. mary was bursting with questions, but thankfully had gained

new patience in the time i’d been gone. distressed by the looks of me, i believe ma, mary, and

tish took a vow not to press me about what i’d seen and done. lord, all you had to do was

glance into my eyes to recognize there was a chasm that was too dark to explore.

mary didn’t ask about beards, why he’d stopped writing, and if he might still care for her.

when pa asked me about his well-being, her flushed face and downcast eyes were the only signs

that she still had feelings for him. i couldn’t have answered her questions, but i knew the past

four years had changed him too.

when we were all exhausted from so much feeling and talk, i bade them good night and

returned to my room. i lingered by the bed, wanting to savor every minute of turning back the

smooth sheets and sinking into the down-stuffed mattress. with the covers folded back, i slipped

between the cool linens, my head swallowed up to the ears by the pillow. i thought i’d departed

this earth and gone to heaven, with a belly full of food and shrouded in a silken cocoon.

but the happiness of those first days wore off, and my melancholia crept back. i was

damaged, and so were all the folks around here. no one wanted to discuss the bad times, and

they were timid about prying into mine. but the war’s toll was visible in my parents’ stooped

shoulders, lined faces, and the girls’ silences. at first, after the joy of my return, my mother’s

transformation was less apparent. but within several days, it was evident that she had changed

the most. she’d become more subdued and tentative. the resolute, self- assured mother i

remembered seemed defeated. she deferred to the other three most of the time, speaking

infrequently and then in a quiet tone. always tidy in her appearance, she was less so now, with

hairpins often dangling from her loosely coiled braids and her collar askew. when i asked mary

about it, she shook her head sadly. “the war was especially hard on her.” that was all she’d say.

it made me grieve to see my mother like this, but nothing was the same anymore.