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“Okay.”
“Do you know any good places around here for a sunset picnic?”
“Um... I think I know one,” I said, even though I had never gone on a sunset picnic in my life, let alone on a date. My heart was singing so loudly I was sure Paul could hear it.
“Tell me where you live,” he said, “and I’ll pick you up.”
My happiness popped like a balloon. What would he think if he knew I didn’t have a home and that I carried everything I owned in paper bags in the trunk of my car? He would probably form the same opinion of me that everyone else in town had. “Um... it would be easier if I drove out here for you,” I said. “The place I have in mind is up there.” I pointed to the mountain. “And I’m in the other direction. If you’re living in the trainer’s cottage, I know where that is.”
“Okay, then.” His smile had returned. “How about six o’clock? I’ll pack the picnic. And you can bring Buster if you want.”
I drove home smiling. It was all too good to be true. The “dog girl” had a date for the first time in her life—and Paul even liked my three-legged dog.
I parked the car by Pop’s garage and was about to hurry back to the clinic when Pop called to me from the open garage door. “Hey, Peg! Donna wants to see you in her office.” I bristled at the reference to her office, then reminded myself that if Donna hadn’t taken over, I wouldn’t be working full-time at a job I loved. And I probably wouldn’t have delivered Persephone’s foal or become friends with Paul. I strode into her office, determined that nothing she said would destroy my good mood.
“You wanted to see me?” I asked.
“A letter came for you yesterday. I guess you haven’t filled out a change of address at the post office yet.”
I opened my mouth to tell her that it had only been a week since I’d moved out and that I rarely got any mail to begin with. But I closed it again. None of that mattered. The letter was from Barbara Symanski.
Dear Peggy,
Ever since we talked, I haven’t been able to stop thinking about Joe. I’ve decided that I want to accept your kind offer and come out to New York and do whatever I can to help him and let him know that I love him. I checked the Greyhound bus schedule, and I’m willing to make the trip out there from Youngstown whenever the time is right. I can change buses in New York City, then take another one north. According to the route maps, it looks like New Paltz is the bus station that’s closest to you. Just give me a call the next time that Joe comes, and I can be there in about twelve or thirteen hours. Thanks again, and let’s pray that our plan works.
Your friend,
Barbara
I returned to the clinic with another reason to dance. If only I knew when Joe would be back.
The afternoon mail at the clinic brought bills and payment checks and more accounting work for me to do, but it also brought more letters and photographs from Jimmy’s Army friends. I carried them into the house to show to his mother.
She was washing a batch of tomatoes from her garden that she planned to can, but she dried her hands and sat down at the table with me to read them. The letters made her smile. “I can certainly see how well-loved Jim was,” she told me. The photograph album was bulging.
A letter from Chaplain Bill contained a short note and the address for Major Mike Cleveland. “Oh no,” I groaned. “Jimmy’s commanding officer at Buchenwald is stationed at Fort Bragg, North Carolina, now. I won’t be able to talk with him in person.”
“We could try to track him down by telephone,” she said.
“Your long-distance bill must be high already.” I knew how much my calls at the phone booth were costing me.
She smiled as if we were conspirators. “When Gordon saw last month’s bill, he said it looked like the national war debt. But he agreed that it’s worth every penny if it helps Jim. Leave this address with me and I’ll look into it.” We were nearly finished with the letters when the telephone rang. Mrs. Barnett went into the front hallway to answer it. “That was the veterans’ hospital,” she said when she returned. “Dr. Morgan would like to speak with us on Thursday morning.”
“I hope it’s good news this time.” I was in such a pleasant mood that I believed anything was possible.
“I hope so, too. Will you come with us again, Peggy?”
“Of course.”
Mr. Barnett was called out later to stitch up a cow who had torn her udder on barbed wire, and I was happy to go with him. It was a simple procedure, he said, but I watched everything he did in fascination. “How did your visit to Blue Fence Farms go this morning?” he asked as we worked.
I told him how Mr. Dixon had made friends with Persephone and Tyche, but I was too shy to tell him that Paul had also been making friends with me. Every time I thought about Saturday’s picnic, my stomach fluttered like a nest of baby birds. I smiled when I thought about his sky-blue eyes and Kentucky drawl. But at the same time, I agonized over what I should wear and what we would talk about and how I could ever show my face out at Blue Fence Farms again if the date turned out to be a disaster.
* * *
On Thursday morning, the Barnetts and I were nervous yet hopeful as we drove to the hospital. Along the way, we rehearsed everything we wanted to tell the doctor and prayed that he would have good news for us in return.
“We’ve seen several encouraging signs in these past few weeks,” Mr. Barnett told Dr. Morgan as we took our seats. The doctor was already lighting a cigarette. “Jim has been talking to us a bit more, and he responded very well to seeing his old friends when we took him to the memorial service. It seemed like the trip and the day away from the hospital did him good, and we—”
