Page 46 of The Lies We Leave Behind

46

The goodbyes happened in a flurry, my one small bag, provided by the hospital, packed in minutes. Everyone wanted to say goodbye to Willa. To kiss what they called the “miracle baby,” her birth and survival under such extreme and terrible circumstances inspiration for so many.

“Be well,” they all called as I climbed into the car, Aunt Victoria beside me, Willa in my lap.

I waved from the window and then turned to face forward, not once looking back as we drove out of the hospital grounds. I never wanted to look back again. To wonder. To have regrets. I only wanted to look ahead.

We spent a week in a nearby hotel, Aunt Victoria procuring a pram and taking Willa and me shopping the day after we arrived. There wasn’t much, so many of the shops closed, but there was enough to get us to our next destination, including a pair of men’s pajamas.

And while we were there, Aunt Vic presented me with a small box tied with a white ribbon.

“What is this?” I asked.

Her smile was worried. “I’m sorry I didn’t send them before but we had no idea where to send them—and then we heard reports that the postal system was a mess. I hope... I hope you aren’t too mad.”

She left me alone then and, my heart racing, I lifted the lid of the box.

Inside were letters. Letters from William. At first he’d written weekly, but after a while they were spaced out more, the words filled with weariness from the constant fighting, pushing forward, losing men, needing sleep...and worrying that he hadn’t heard from me.

“I’m scared you aren’t receiving these. Why else would you not respond? Unless... Please, Kate. Please write me soon. I am desperate to know you’re okay.”

My heart hurt as I raced through the letters, reading his pain, his worry, his loss of hope, until I got to the last one.

“I fear the worst now,” he wrote. “I cannot imagine why you would not write. Even if you’d changed your mind about me, I know you would never be cruel enough not to tell me. And so I have to believe you have gone. I write this letter to the woman you once were. The woman I will always love. Goodbye, Kate. Goodbye, my love.”

My heart was in my throat as I rushed from the room, the letter clutched in my hand.

“I need to get home,” I said, choking on a sob as I shoved it at my aunt. “I need to get to Seattle.”

I paced the room as she read it, my mind racing. How soon could we get to New York? How long would it take to get to Seattle? Would I bring Willa? Of course I would. He’d want to see her.

My aunt’s voice broke into my thoughts.

“Oh, Kate,” she said, passing the letter to my uncle as she got to her feet. “We’ll go out first thing tomorrow and get some stationery so you can write him. And then we’ll see about getting you both home.” She pulled me to her. “It will be okay.”

In the morning, stationery bought and Willa fed, I sat down to write to William, trying to explain that I had written, but feared my letters had been burned, never finding their way to him. But I was alive, and I loved him, and I was coming to Seattle as soon as I could.

I looked to Willa, asleep beside me in her bassinet. I wanted to tell him, but something so important. So precious. It had to be said in person.

We hurried to the post office, then returned to the hotel, where Uncle Frank told us to pack.

“I’ve gotten us rooms at a hotel in Paris,” he said. “There’s a train that can take us there this afternoon. We’ll stay there a few days. At most a week.” He held up a hand as I started to protest. “I am working at getting you an American passport. It could take a little while. Once we have it, we’ll go to New York.”

Aunt Victoria looked to me and I nodded and then hurried to my room to pack Willa’s and my belongings.

And so we went to Paris. While Uncle Frank met with his contacts there, the three of us ladies took long leisurely walks by the Seine, stopping for crepes, buying baguettes to take back to our rented flat, and meandering in and out of shops. I ate, regaining some of the weight I’d lost, and I became stronger, both physically and mentally.

My new American passport arrived on our fifth day. I was Kate once more.

After a week in Paris, we boarded a plane for New York.

As soon as we were home I reached for the stack of mail on the entryway table. But there was nothing for me from William.

“Do you think he hasn’t gotten it yet?” I asked my aunt. “Or maybe his parents moved?”

William had given me two addresses before he’d left for the front. One in France, and the other—his parents’ address in Seattle.

“It’s possible they moved,” she said. “But who knows how the mail system is working between countries these days. I’m sure they’re overwhelmed with getting letters in and out. Be patient, my love.”

But I grew more anxious by the day, unable to concentrate or carry on conversations. I had resumed my friendships with Claire and Janie, whose husbands had returned from war, one with a bullet wound to the arm, the other with some shrapnel in his back. But while they cooed over Willa’s pale eyes and hair—“She looks like an angel, Kate... She’s the spitting image of you”—and asked questions about my eventual move to Seattle, I was barely able to remember the lie my aunt and uncle and I had come up with to explain my disappearance and my return with a baby on my hip.

“The simpler the better,” Uncle Frank had said before launching into the idea while we were still in the hotel in Paris.

After they’d gotten word that I had stayed behind in Germany, they’d come up with a story in case things went awry or they didn’t hear from me.

“When you got too far along in your pregnancy, you quit your nursing position and went to stay with family friends in a remote town in northern England. We didn’t know about the pregnancy because you were embarrassed about having the baby out of wedlock and were waiting for William to rejoin you after the war so you could marry and then come home and tell us the happy news. But then you got sick and we had to go retrieve you. We met William, who then went home to Seattle to see his family and see about acquiring a house before you and Willa joined him.”

“Can you remember all that?” Aunt Vic had asked.

“Of course,” I’d said.

But as I sat here now, blankly staring back at Janie while I tried to come up with an answer to her question about if William had found a house yet, I was at a loss.

“Not yet,” I said slowly, my mind scrambling to find an answer that sounded believable. “I’m going to go out there soon and help him look though.”

“Just you?” Claire asked. “Or are you taking Willa too?”

“And Willa of course,” I said, making it up as I went. “And Aunt Victoria. We’re making a fun cross-country trip of it. I’m just sad Uncle Frank can’t go, but he has to work.”

“Well, I think that sounds lovely,” Janie said. “And what about the wedding? Will it be here or there? Oh...you must have it here! We’ll have such fun!”

I held back a sigh. The number of lies I was accumulating were staggering.

“I’m not sure,” I said. “It’s honestly the last thing on our minds right now. We just want to get me and Willa to Seattle and find a house. Then we’ll figure out the wedding. But I promise, you two will be the first to know anything. After Aunt Vic.”

“So, this upcoming trip to Seattle,” Claire said. “Is that it? Unless you come back for the wedding?”

I nodded, not trusting myself to open my mouth again. Who knew what fable I’d tell next.

“We should have a little party then!” Clair said. “A proper send-off.”

“Oh no...you don’t have to do that,” I said.

“It’s done,” Janie said, pulling an elegant pink notebook from her handbag and opening it to the calendar. “How about this Friday?”

And so Friday it was. A small elegant affair at the house that Janie and Claire organized with my aunt. Some of the neighbors came, a couple more women I’d known from high school, and Janie and Claire and their families. I tried to enjoy the evening, but it was hard when it felt like a farce, and by the end of the night, I felt as though my face might crack from smiling so hard to cover the pain.

The following morning made it all feel that much worse.

“Good morning,” I said as I entered the kitchen, having followed the aroma of coffee brewing. Willa was still asleep and I’d snuck down quickly in hopes of having a couple minutes to myself before she woke and needed me.

“Good morning,” Aunt Victoria said from where she was sitting at the kitchen table, the newspaper laid out before her. But there was something in her voice that made me pause.

“Is something wrong?” I asked.

She took in a long breath, held it, then blew it out, sliding an envelope from beneath the paper as she did.

“This was in the mail yesterday,” she said. “With all the excitement about the party happening, no one went through it until an hour ago. It’s...” She chewed her lip and then held it out.

I was confused at first by the sight of my own handwriting, and then I saw the crude stamp plastered across the front.

“Not At This Address. Return to Sender.”

“It probably just means they’ve moved,” Uncle Frank said, entering the room. “Something we considered.”

“I need to go there,” I said. “I can ask whoever lives in the house now if they know where they went.”

“Kate...” Aunt Vic said and then looked to her husband. “I’ll go with you.”

On a humid day in mid-August, I boarded a train for Seattle, my aunt and daughter by my side.

Uncle Frank had booked two hotel rooms for us and, after the weeklong journey, we checked in and went straight to bed. In the morning I rose, dressed myself and Willa, and then met my aunt in the downstairs restaurant.

“You’re sure you don’t want us to come with you?” she asked. “I could hire a driver.”

But I shook my head. I had no idea what I would find, and I wanted to be alone when it happened.

“I’ll be fine,” I said. “I’ll be back as soon as I can.”

She nodded and then smiled down at my daughter, who was happily making a mess of a banana in the high chair the restaurant had provided.

“Well then, I guess the two of us will do a little exploring, won’t we?” she said, getting a slobbery, toothless grin in return.

“Wish me luck?” I said as I gathered my purse and sweater.

Aunt Victoria grasped my hand in hers.

“Whatever you find, you’re going to be okay. I promise.”

I nodded, not quite believing her, kissed the top of Willa’s head, and then went out front to get a cab. After rattling off the last known address for William Mitchell, I sat back in my seat and closed my eyes.

The house was a large two-story with a tidy front yard and a Ford in the driveway. Taking a deep breath, I slid from the back seat of the cab and ran my hands down the skirt of the pale yellow dress I’d worn.

“Can you wait for me?” I asked the cab driver.

“Meter’s running,” he said.

I nodded, stared up at the house, and then hurried up the steps before my nerves got the best of me and knocked on the door.

“Hello there,” the man who answered the door said. “Can I help you?”

He looked to be around forty, nice-looking, friendly...but definitely not William, and too young to be his father.

“I’m sorry to bother you, sir,” I said. “But I’m looking for a William Mitchell.”

He shook his head. “Sorry to say I don’t know anyone by that name.”

“Do you mind if I ask how long you’ve lived here?”

“Just about a year,” he said.

I nodded. “The family that lived here before you. Their son is William. Do you happen to know where they moved to?”

“Sorry. Can’t say I do. I know they sold the house because their son, William I guess, got injured flying in the war. They needed a house with only one floor for his wheelchair.”

“That would be his brother. He was a pilot.”

The man shrugged.

“You have no idea if they stayed in the area?” I asked.

“Sorry, miss. I never met ’em. They’d moved out before I even saw the house.”

I sighed, masking my frustration the best I could. “Okay well, thank you anyways. Have a nice day.”

He shut the door and I turned and stood on the porch, staring blindly toward the cab, unsure what to do next. This had been my only lead. Slowly, I walked back down the steps. When I reached the sidewalk I stopped, looking both ways for traffic.

“Yoohoo! Miss?”

I turned to see a woman in the next yard over, waving a gloved hand at me.

“Yes?” I called.

“You looking for the family that used to live there?” She pointed at the house I’d just been at.

“I am,” I said, taking a step toward her.

“They moved,” she said. “Just over a year ago.” She put her pruning shears down and waved me over.

“Do you know where they went?” I asked.

“Sure do. The parents and their youngest son moved across town to a nice one-story home that’s easier to get a wheelchair around in. Their eldest, William, moved just around the corner.”

My lips parted, my breath caught between an inhale and exhale as I looked up and then down the street, wondering what corner he was around.

“Where?” I asked, my voice barely more than a whisper.

The woman pointed. “Take a right at the stop sign up there and it’s the fourth house on the left. He—”

“Thank you,” I said, cutting her off. “Have a good day!”

I hurried to the cab and jumped in the back seat, giving directions as I shut the door. A moment later we were off, my eyes staring straight ahead, willing the driver to go faster. At the stop sign we paused and then he took a right. I scooted across the seat so I was on the left side of the car, staring out the window, counting houses.

“Stop,” I said, and the driver pulled off to the side of the road.

It was a quaint brick Tudor, the yard neat, the door painted white with a floral wreath hanging from it, the curtains in the front window open and welcoming. For some reason I felt suddenly afraid. I slid back to the right side of the car and placed my hand on the handle, but didn’t open the door.

“Do you want me to stay again?” the driver asked.

“Yes, please,” I whispered.

I took a breath, opened the door, and stepped out, facing the house but not moving. As I stared up at it, a car pulled into the driveway.

William.

And as I watched, he emerged from the car.

He was just as I remembered him. Tall and strong and so handsome. My heart nearly leaped from my chest as I watched him walk around the car. I was about to move from behind the safety of the cab when I saw him open the passenger-side door, his hand reaching down to catch a woman’s. He helped her from her seat, a smile on his face as she emerged, the little pale blue hat on her dark brown hair perfectly matching her dress.

She could’ve been anyone. A friend. A cousin. But then he did something unmistakable. He placed a hand tenderly on her belly, and then kissed her before leading her to the front door.

I wasn’t sure how long I stood there. I didn’t care that the meter was running. All I knew was that I was once again seeing glimpses of my life flash before my eyes. Precious moments I’d believed were leading me to something better—but instead had led to one crushing blow after another.

Ruthie.

Catrin.

And now William.

Each one beloved. Each one gone.

I crouched down and rested my forehead on the side of the cab.

“Miss?” the driver called.

“Sorry,” I said. “I just need a minute.”

I could still go. I could knock on the door. I could explain everything. But then what? I ruined the life he was clearly building with a woman he’d found after he’d thought me dead?

My breath caught, strangled on a sob, my body beginning to shake as the tears I’d held in for so long threatened to break free. I had waited for him. I had endured because of my memories of him and us. I had kept going, knowing it would all be worth it...because in the end I’d be with him again. But it was not to be. I would not go there now...or ever. I had to let him go.

Taking in a deep breath, I stood and steadied myself before opening the door and getting back inside.

“Please take me back to the hotel,” I said.

“Are you okay, miss?”

I sighed and looked out at the little brick house.

“Not yet,” I said. “Not in a long time. But I will be.”