Miss Farleigh was upset. I was locking the dining room door after breakfast, and one look at her purposeful stride and straight back and I knew.
“Valerie, your brother has sent word that he wants to see you.”
“He’s here?” I was surprised. “Wasn’t he supposed to come next week?”
“Yes, but he is here now. He expects you to have the evening off.”
“But I have the dinner shift.” Suddenly I was confused about what this visit meant and wanted to put it off. Why had James not written to me telling me when he was coming? Why was he sending word through a third party? But my hesitation was taken by Miss Farleigh to indicate my dedication, something I did nothing to abuse her of.
“Exactly.” Her face relaxed, and she continued in her clipped way, “That is precisely what I told him, and I wanted you to know it. An inspector should be able to understand that work can’t be done without people, and that our schedule is continuous. However, you may see him this afternoon for an hour.”
“He knows?” I wondered what James’ reaction had been to this small, spare older woman telling him what rules he must obey.
Miss Farleigh nodded. “I’ve told him to meet you at three at my barracks.”
I was startled. “Your barracks?” None of us had seen, much less been in her room.
“Yes, I’ve fixed it up like --- well, as much like an office is possible with the things at hand. I could not permit a man to go to your room --- beds, clothes, cosmetics.” Miss Farleigh shuddered while I suppressed a smile. James had grown up with two sisters, but the everlating conventions must be observed even in the midst of chaos and warfare. “I shall be over here at that hour, and you two may think of my place as a drawing room and be at your ease.”
Would I be at my ease? I was beginning to get an uncomfortable feeling about this formally arranged meeting.
When I joined the workers for our early lunch, I found the word was out.
“He’s your brother, Val. How exciting,” said Margaret.
“Think of having a lieutenant colonel for a brother.” Fran gazed at me with interest. The same interest given me as Trixie’s sister.
“Is he good looking?” asked Rosie true to form.
I had to think for a moment. Was he? Was James good looking? I thought of him as I had seen him last, standing beside the war map, adventure ahead of him. “Yes, James is very good looking.”
“I was talking to some of the cadets,” said Judy, “and they said the Colonel Ward --- well your brother--- had been sent here to punish Major Brandt for being so hard on everybody.”
I shrugged. “I don’t know anything about that. I have not even seen him yet.” And when I did see him, I wanted him to see me as I saw myself in this new job that I had won by my own efforts. I wanted him to see me in my uniform and understand that I had been promoted to Chief Instructress, and had four people working for me. I wanted to see his eyebrows arch in that inquisitive way he had when looking over something, before his eyes would crinkle at the corners. James never smiled so much with his mouth as with his eyes. Seeing him again I hoped would be like that day I rode the wild pony.
This wild pony was at Grandpapa’s summer house on the lake. He had been bought when Arthur was little so that we could all learn to ride during the summers. The pony was a very stubborn animal, and that combined with the fact that he was left to do as he wished all winter had made him a law unto himself. Saddling and bridling him was an effort, and once someone was on his back, he would either stand still and refuse to move, or turn his head suddenly, nip at the rider’s feet, and then try and buck them off. He seldom failed. Sonny and Buddy would not go near him, and Arthur and James had been the only ones who had ever been able to ride him at all. Now however, James was too big, and the wild pony spent his days in the paddock near the house switching his tail and enjoying the summer sun on his back. His name, if he ever had one, was lost in time. He was simply the wild pony.
I would stand by the fence at the edge of the field and watch him for hours. I longed to be up on his back, cantering around the field, free of the hat I had to wear in a vain attempt to prevent freckles. I always came to the field with a carrot or apple in my pocket, and soon the pony knew that my presence meant a treat. He would amble over and collect his snack letting me scratch between his ears. In my mind I would go over what I would do step by step. How I would get the bridle and saddle on, how I would slip up onto his back, and how I would make the pony do as I wished.
One day James joined me at the fence. “What do you do down here every day?”
“I just come down to watch the pony and give him some carrots.”
“I don’t know why Granpapa keeps him. Nobody rides him anymore. He has a nasty temper anyway.”
Before I knew it, I blurted out, “I could ride him.”
James swung around. “What do you mean? You couldn’t ride him. Besides you’re a girl.”
“That has nothing to do with it. I’m a good rider.”
“On an old rocking chair of a horse, maybe. You couldn’t stay on that pony for one minute.”
“Yes, I could.” I felt my face flush. “Besides he likes me. I bring him carrots and things.”
“He doesn’t like you; he likes the treats. He doesn’t like anyone.” James turned around to study the pony putting one foot up on the lower railing of the fence. Then he said slowly with a dawning grin, “You really think you can ride him, huh?”
I was beginning to regret the corner I had put myself in. “Yes….yes I can.”
“All right. I’m going to go and get the saddle and bridle. Then we’ll see.” James stood still, looking at me, daring me to change my mind.
I swallowed hard. “Well, go and get them then.”
The pony was amazingly quiet as James saddled and bridled him. Perhaps he had forgotten what it all meant. Then again maybe he knew he could be rid of any rider in a few minutes and was not too worried. James gave me a leg up onto the horse and as I gathered the reins he stood very still, trembling slightly. Then before I knew what had happened, he made a strange sideways jump followed by a buck, and I was on the ground.
James grinned over at me. “See. I told you so.”
I scrambled to my feet and brushed off my skirts. “I can do it. You haven’t given me a chance. Put me up again.”
James hesitated for a moment, the smile leaving his face. “Val, that’s enough. I don’t think…”
“Help me up.”
This time I lasted a few more moments before the pony suddenly moved, and I was on the ground.
“Master James, Master James.” One of the grooms was running down the road towards us. Mrs. Ward says that you are to stop that immediately and come up to the house.” He took the trailing reins and began unsaddling the pony.
“Oh boy, we’re in for it now,” said James. He helped me dust off, and we trudged towards the house, James kicking the stones in the road, my ripped hem trailing in the dust. His voice filled with resentment he said, “I told you that you couldn’t ride that horse.”
“Yes, I can,” I mumbled to myself, resentment and determination rising up as my face flushed again.
The pony was put in the far pasture, supposedly out of reach, and we were treated to a lecture on responsibility for younger sisters for James, and ladylike behavior for me.
Only the laxness of the summer schedule, and the lack of Nanny’s watchful eyes made the next part possible. I became possessed by the pony. I was going to ride it. So, every morning I would get up the minute the summer sky showed any signs of light, put on old clothes, and go out to the far field with a carrot in my pocket. What followed was a battle of wills. The pony wanted to continue his unfettered existence basking in the warm sun, and I wanted to ride him. After our early morning battles in the dew drenched outer pasture, I would hide the saddle and bridle under the water trough, put my dusty clothes at the back of the closet ready for the next day’s contest, and slip back into bed where I would be ‘woken up’ with tea and crackers. Mamma wondered why my legs were so bruised, and Grandmamma shook her head over the state of my nails, but no one guessed.
Finally, the day came when the pony gave a shudder of resignation, and we walked placidly around the field, then trotted, and finally cantered, the dew spraying in sparkling drops from the pony’s hooves.
That afternoon I put on my best riding habit, begged an extra carrot from the cook, and went out to saddle the pony. I waited until I knew everyone would be collected on the big front porch for tea. I walked the pony down the road, and then urged him into a canter as I swung onto the big looping driveway. I circled him three times and brought him to a triumphant stop at the bottom of the steps. There was shocked silence from the adults, and then a whoop from James.
“Atta girl, Val. You really can ride.” He came running down the steps, and stood looking up at me, his eyes crinkled and smiling. I basked in his pride, warming in it and then reflecting it back like sun glinting off the lake.
After that I was allowed to ride the pony, but it was never again as much fun as that afternoon on the front lawn. In time I lost interest, and the pony quietly returned to his wild ways.
The monitors began coming into the dining room for dinner, and soon I was lost in the bustle of getting food out onto the tables. In the rush and babble of voices I forgot about James until suddenly a hush fell over the room. It began at the door and swept through the room until it finally silenced the table I was serving.
“Here they come for better or worse,” someone muttered.
In the silence footsteps clattered, coming up behind me, nearer and nearer. Now they were directly at my back, and I was frozen in place, a plate in each hand. I could not turn around, not with the room suddenly quiet and all eyes on the inspector. I did not want to see James for the first time in so long with an entire room as an audience. Chairs scrapped behind as they were seated, and I flew back to the serving counter where Miss Fairleigh stood with four heaping plates.
“I arranged them myself,” she said smiling at me.
I tried to return the smile, but my face felt frozen. I took a deep breath and turned around facing four men seated on the platform, side by side, saying not a word. Four pairs of eyes fixed on me as I walked through that long space from the serving counter. I looked at the third from the end, at James, hoping for some signal from him. But he was sitting stiffly, his face wooden, and as I got nearer, I could see there was no welcome on his lips or in his eyes.
My voice hoarse with effort I managed to say, “Hello, James. It’s good to see you.”
A dark flush colored his neck just like Grandpapa’s used to do. His eyes would not meet mine, and he said only a clipped hello his eyes on the table.
The officer beside him, who I did not know, was reaching for his fork but paused hand in air, surprised. There was a moment of resounding silence before Matthew’s voice filled the void.
“Miss Ward,” Matthew said, “may I present Captain Simmons?”
I nodded and smiled in my best lady of the manor style, lifting my head and putting my shoulders back.
“Miss Ward,” The captain half rose and sat down again in confusion. “I see ---Miss Ward, the Colonel ---“
“The colonel is Miss Ward’s brother,” Matthew said.
At that point I turned for the sanctuary of the kitchen, my worst fears realized. James was definitely not glad to see me, yet he had to have come knowing I would be here. I had to return twice more to that table where four heads faced straight out over the crowd, silent and grim. It was simply a relief when it was all over. But then I still had to face the three o’clock meeting.
A little before three I went reluctantly to Miss Farleigh’s room, and found the room unlocked and deserted as promised. The small room reflected its owner, austere, clean and simple. The floor had been recently scrubbed and all surfaces were free of dust. In the far corner was an army cot which made me smile in spite of myself, for it was covered by a dark canvas that came down to the floor masking its purpose. The only other furniture were two plain wooden chairs and a desk.
Suddenly there was a knock at the door, and before I could open it James strode in, not even turning to look at me. He walked as far away as he could get and sat down heavily on the disguised cot. There was a long pause as I was not going to be the first to speak. He finally said only, “Hello, Val.”
“Hello,” I replied giving him his own back.
The silence lengthened and at last I said, “Aren’t you even a little bit pleased to see me?”
“If I hadn’t wanted to see you, I wouldn’t have taken on this lemon of a job.” There was another long pause. “You haven’t said anything about my promotion. Has Brandt been complaining to you?”
“About what?”
“He’s only a major and he’s been in a lot longer than I have. I’ll bet it burns him up.”
“I wouldn’t know. I just work here. He didn’t even know who I was until a few days ago.”
“Don’t kid yourself. You’re something special. It’s written all over his face.”
I flushed in spite of myself. “That’s ridiculous.”
James continued as if I had not spoken. “And what is more I don’t like it.”
“You liked him fine when he had dinner with us in Chicago.”
“Sure, he’s an OK guy to know, but he is not suitable for you. And what’s up with this setup you’re in. You’ve hidden this pretty well. What do you think Papa would say if he knew you were a mere waitress in a mess?”
“I didn’t do this to please Papa, and besides there is nothing he can do about it. He tried, but I won.”
“You always were stubborn as hell.”
“And I’m not changing, not for Papa, not for you.”
“So, you’re satisfied with this? Running up and down before a bunch of men – all kinds too --- hauling their food, waiting on them like a servant, wiping up their spills. God, I thought you’d be above this kind of thing. A common ---- Do you know what they say in Paris about canteen girls?”
My anger rising another notch I spit out, “I was in Paris too short a time to hear mere gossip. I have spent my time in France working.”
“It isn’t gossip. It’s what goes on. And you’re letting Papa think you have a job behind a desk.”
“I never told him any such thing. That’s what he wishes, and that’s what he sees. I’ve written Nanny exactly what I’m doing, and she will tell Papa if she thinks it’s wise.”
“Nanny? She’d be in league with you.” He almost spit the words out,
“What do you mean? She was always hardest on me when we were growing up and you know it.”
“Maybe, but she liked you the best. Heaven only knows why. You were always so .. so…” His voice trailed off and then under his breath, “But as long as I had Arthur it didn’t matter and then…”
But looking into his handsome, hardened face I felt no sympathy. All I wanted was to hurt him back “Then you can have the pleasure of telling him when you get back. A lieutenant on the staff will go back, won’t he James. He’ll leave this all behind and go back and even have a little time to visit his family, show off his uniform, and relax. He’ll be able to sleep in a real bed, and have three course dinners, and…” James jumped to his feet.
“Stop.” We stood glaring at one another across what seemed an impossible abyss. James eyes dropped first and then he said as he stared at the floor. “Did you know that Grandpapa and Grandmamma are dead?”
I was now the one to sit down in one of the plain wooden chairs. “James---no.”
“I just got a letter from Papa before I came down here. They were killed in an automobile crash ---together. In the car that Grandmamma never wanted to ride in.”
An era seemed suddenly closed. I could see the long dining room table at Grandpa’s house laden with gleaming silver and sparkling crystal. Grandmamma on the wide front porch at the lake, pouring afternoon tea on a drowsy summer afternoon. Grandpapa imperiously in charge of the steel mill that he had created with his own hands and years of hard work. Perhaps it was better that they were gone. I did not know how life could be the same on the other side of this terrible war, and they were too old for change.
“Papa wrote me about the settlements.”
“Settlements?”
“All of us grandchildren will inherit a large sum of money.” James finally looked up from the floor directly at me. “There is only one hitch. Papa controls our shares until our thirty-fifth birthday.”
Still trying to process a world without the commanding presence of my grandparents I merely shrugged. The money did not seem important. Not here, not now.
James got up and started pacing in the small room. “Don’t you see, Val, it is the ultimate weapon placed right in Papa’s hands. We will have to do as Papa says, or he will withhold the money.”
“But it’s only a weapon if you let it be.”
“Leave it to you to say something foolish like that. Do you want to live the rest of your life as a servant or are you used to it now? I want comfort and style. It’s like being on the staff. I’m on the jump with lots of problems to solve, people to meet, important things. Much better than sitting in a mud hole teaching men over and over again how to take care of their feet and their weapons, much better than being stuck in a dump like this.”
The abyss between us widened and deepened. I made one last mental try to think of some way to make a bridge across to the other side. But then I looked at the closed face of my brother, looking for the young boy who worshipped his older brother, who loved his youngest sister, and dreamed of a life of adventure and exploration, and realized that boy was gone. He has been swept way as inexorably as Arthur and Trixie.
I quietly got to me feet and said only, “I’ve got to go now. I’ll see you at dinner.”
James, his mouth almost in a snarl said, “Not if I could help it. But my train doesn’t leave until nine, and I can’t very well refuse to dine with the CO of the post.”
I left the room and shut the door behind me with great care. The world felt vast and echoing for they were all gone. Everyone who had shared my childhood in that yellow brick house were gone. All of them.