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“I’m so sorry, Joe. I had no idea.”
“Hey! We should take Tripod with us when we visit Jim. I think he’d get a kick out of seeing him.”
It was a great idea. I started imagining ways I could sneak Buster onto the hospital grounds on visiting day. I would need help, though. I hadn’t even been able to sneak in a little Bible.
“Hey, how about that beer you promised?” Joe said.
“Oh, sorry.” I led him around to our backyard, which grew smaller every year because of all the junk cars Pop parked there for spare parts. “Come on, we live upstairs.”
Joe halted when he saw the steep wooden steps leading up to our apartment. How could I have forgotten about his leg so quickly? I was about to apologize when he said, “How about if I wait here and you bring it down. If it’s not too much trouble.”
“Not at all. Have a seat.” I gestured to the rickety wooden chair I had dragged outside to escape from Donna’s cigarettes. I hurried up the steps and went straight to the refrigerator for the beer. I was about to race downstairs again when I remembered the photograph of Gisela and fetched it from my bedroom.
“Ah! That’s what I’m talking about!” Joe said when I handed him the beer. I noticed a tremor in his hand as he reached for it, just like the one Jimmy had. I watched him guzzle the beer, wondering if he always drank beer so early on a weekday afternoon.
“Joe, how long ago was it that Jimmy was joking around about Buster? How close to the end of the war?” In Joe’s story, Jimmy had sounded so much like the man I once knew, trying to cheer everybody up and encourage them. It would help me to know how long ago he’d begun to change.
“Well, let’s see... I was wounded over in France, trying to take back one of those little towns—Saint Something or Other—from the Jerries. One minute we were on the move and the next thing I knew, kaboom! The whole world exploded. When I came to, I was ten feet from where I’d been walking, and there was a giant hole in the street. I was covered with so much dirt and dust I had to spit it from my mouth and wipe it out of my eyes. All my buddies had disappeared. I yelled for them but I couldn’t even hear myself yelling because my hearing was gone. I tried to sit up and the first thing I saw was that my leg had been blown off. You can’t imagine what it’s like to see part of yourself laying there, no longer attached to the rest of you. I had the crazy thought that I could just reach down and stick my leg back on.” His hand trembled harder now, and when he lifted the bottle to his mouth to drain it, he spilled beer on himself.
I didn’t know what to say. I had no idea if it helped Joe to talk about his experiences or made them worse. He didn’t give me time to decide. “Then the pain kicked in,” he said. “But our man Jim showed up right about then and wrapped a tourniquet around what was left of my leg and gave me a shot of morphine. I was never so happy to see a living person in my life. Bullets and bombs were still flying everywhere, and here’s Jim, crawling around through all the rubble and bricks saving people... Hey, you got another one of these?” he asked, lifting the empty beer bottle.
“Sure. I’ll go get it.” I took my time climbing the stairs, shaken by his story. I felt like we both needed time to recover. I gave him the second beer and watched him take a few swallows. “Can I show you something?” I asked after Joe paused and smacked his lips. I handed him the picture of Gisela. “Do you know who this woman is? The name Gisela is written on the back.”
“Hey, she’s a real looker!”
“We found the picture in Jimmy’s rucksack. I was hoping you might know who she is. It looks like she’s wearing a nurse’s cap, so I wondered if she might be one of the Army nurses.”
“Sorry. I don’t remember her.” He handed back the picture.
“Thanks anyway.” I needed to finish feeding the horses, but I didn’t want to leave Joe alone when he was still so shaken up. “Where are you headed next, Joe? Back home?”
“No,” he said quickly. “No, not for a while. I need to get out on the open road and clear my head.” He sipped his beer and scratched Buster, who lay at his feet like an adoring servant. I let the silence linger until he broke it. “There was this girl back home I was gonna marry. Barbara wrote to me all through the war. She even took the train to the VA hospital in DC when I was there and said she didn’t mind at all about my leg being gone, she was just glad I was alive. But when I finally got home, everything was different. She complained that I spent too much time at the bar and nagged on and on about me not looking for a job. We started arguing all the time. Barb said I’d changed. Maybe it’s true, I don’t know. Probably is. But I finally said we were through, and I spent my Army pay on a motorcycle and got out of there. I got a whole list of Army buddies I’m planning to visit.”
Joe’s words sparked an idea. He had provided a glimpse of the war and Jimmy’s part in it, so maybe some of Jimmy’s other friends could supply a few more pieces of the puzzle. Maybe one of them knew who Gisela was and could tell me why Jimmy carried her picture. “How long are you planning to stay here in town?” I asked. “I would love to talk with you some more, but I have to finish feeding the animals over at the clinic first.”
“Hey, I’m not in a hurry. Is there a park around here someplace where I can sleep tonight?”
“You don’t have to sleep in a park. Why don’t you have dinner with Pop and me—and Buster, of course.” The dog smiled up at Joe as if he’d understood and was endorsing the invitation. “There’s a daybed in Pop’s office that you’re welcome to sleep on. There’s a bathroom in there, too.” Pop used both whenever Donna got mad at him or he was too drunk to climb the apartment steps.
“Well, hey. That’s very nice of you, Penny.”
“It’s Peggy. I’m going to head back to work now, but you’re welcome to visit with Buster while I’m gone. Pop’s repairing a car in his garage if you want someone to talk to. I’ll be back in about an hour.”
“Can you get me another beer before you go?”
“Sure.”
I was surprised by how quickly Pop warmed to Joe over dinner. He listened as Joe shared more of his war stories, and didn’t seem to mind that Joe drank all his beer. The two of them set off for the Crow Bar after dinner that evening like old pals. I didn’t know what time they finally got home, but I was startled out of bed at five in the morning by a bloodcurdling scream, coming from Pop’s office below my bedroom.
It took me a moment to remember that I’d told Joe Fiore, the stranger on the motorcycle, that he could sleep down there. And hadn’t he said he used to have nightmares? I leaped out of bed and grabbed my robe. Buster, who was barking loud enough to wake the whole world, scrambled toward the door ahead of me. I passed Pop, who stood swaying in his bedroom doorway looking woozy and red-eyed. “What’s all the racket?”
“I think Joe might be having a bad dream.”
“Well, somebody shut him up!” Donna called out from inside their bedroom. “And that blasted dog, too! I’m trying to sleep.”
I flew down the stairs and into Pop’s office. It was dark, but I knew my way around the junk-filled space. Joe lay writhing on the bed, eyes closed tight, wailing and moaning. Sweat covered his face and dampened his hair as he thrashed in the twisted bedcovers. He wore only his undershirt and boxers, and I glimpsed the red stump of his leg that ended at his knee. I should have let Pop come down.
Buster whined as I called Joe’s name and shook his shoulder. “Joe! Wake up, Joe. You’re having a nightmare. Wake up.” He gave a startled gasp and opened his eyes. Then Buster licked his face and Joe seemed to relax.
