In late November, a dense fog engulfed most of Western Europe. Airports shut down, ships collided, trains plowed into each other, and cars crashed. With visibility reduced to a matter of feet, people began to carry flashlights when they were out walking.
The fog made me rethink my promise to Beth to stay in England through the holidays. I realized that if I received a telegram with news that my aunt’s condition had worsened, it might be impossible, because of the weather, for me to get home in time to see her. I decided to book a seat on the first available flight to the States. I wanted to make sure that I would have one last chance to be with my aunt.
The person in charge of scheduling travel for AAFES employees informed me that, because of the fog, there was now a wait time of at least two weeks for nonessential personnel, and movement on that list could take place only once the fog lifted. A few days after I mentioned my situation to Geoff, I was summoned to Rand’s office. Although Rand was always polite to me, I still had the feeling that whenever he addressed me, I was being called on the carpet.
“Maggie, you are not in trouble unless you’ve done something that I don’t know about.” I shook my head, and he continued, “Geoff has acquainted me with the state of your aunt’s health. Weather permitting, I am returning to Washington on December 15th. I am allowed to travel with one dependent. Are you interested?”
Although December 15th was still ten days off, I would actually have a scheduled departure date. This might be the only way I could get home. I went over and kissed him on the cheek. He smiled for a second before telling me that I would have to make my own way from Washington to Minooka. That would not be a problem because it was something I had done many times during my two years in the District during the war.
Now that I had a better than average chance of leaving on a certain date, I had to finish up the timeline for the history of the Lacey family. That was the easy part. The hard part would be saying good-bye to the Crowells because I wasn’t sure if I would be returning to England.
I telephoned Beth and asked if I could come to Crofton Wood on December 11th. She said she would love to have me, but that she and Jack were to attend the wedding of Ginger Bramfield’s daughter in Derby on that Saturday. It was the last weekend before I would leave, so I told her I would like to come anyway. I carefully packed up Elizabeth Garrison’s diaries and the other letters Beth had given to me, so that I could complete Mrs. Caton’s project. I had become so caught up in Elizabeth’s story that I felt as if I was parting with a friend. As I traveled north on the train from Euston Station, I noticed that the fog was beginning to lift. If the weatherman was correct, I would be able to leave with Rand on Wednesday.
I had planned to tell the Crowells about my return to the States as soon as I got to Crofton Wood, but with the Bramfield wedding the next day, it didn’t seem like the right time to spring my news on them. It would be best to tell them on Sunday, and then head for the train station.
“Mike’s been here three days now, and we can’t get his nose out of a book,” Jack said. “He’s always been one to get after something once it’s caught his fancy, and it seems that going into medicine has done just that. His mother and I convinced him to get out, so he’s down at the Hare and Hound with Freddie.”
“We were surprised by his change of profession,” Beth added, “but also very pleased. He’s certainly intelligent enough, and I know he spent a lot of time with Kavi, our bearer. Many of the servants considered him to be a healer who had cured them of their ailments.”
Patting me on my knee, Beth said, “To bed, my dear. I wouldn’t be surprised if Michael had something planned for you tomorrow.”
I got up early to have breakfast with Jack and Beth before they headed to Derby for the Bramfield wedding, and then I went back to bed. My decision to return home had so unsettled me that I was losing sleep over it because there was an excellent chance I would not be coming back. I had this premonition that once I landed in America, I would be sucked into a vortex and deposited in Minooka.
After making the bed, I took Elizabeth Garrison’s diaries, the draft of my booklet, and my notes downstairs to the study. I wanted everything to be in order, so Beth could deliver my drafts to Mrs. Caton, who had offered to pay me fifty pounds for my work. I would need that money if I used up the entire eight weeks of leave from AAFES because I would be paid for only the first two weeks.
I hadn’t heard Michael come in last night, but I did hear him open the door to the study. “Good afternoon,” he said. “I didn’t know you were coming, or I wouldn’t have gone out last night with Freddie. It wasn’t until I saw your coat on the rack that I realized you were here for the weekend.”
“It was a spur of the moment thing. London has been so depressing because of the fog.”
Although Michael had been discharged three weeks earlier, he was still wearing his Army sweater, and I asked if he was “nervous out of the service.” It was a term that had been coined by servicemen who were afraid there would be few jobs available once the American war machine shut down. It never happened; the economy was booming.
Looking at his sweater, he said, “I’m waiting for my separation pay. I got out a few days early because of some imaginative record keeping by my sergeant, but it screwed up my paybook. And I didn’t get my demobbed suit either. Once I get the money, I’m buying a whole new wardrobe, and you’ll never see this sweater again.”
“Your dad says you’ve had your nose in a book since you got here.”
“That’s true. I want to be sure I’m on the right path, so I contacted a tutor recommended by the doctor who did my monthly weigh-ins at the Malta station. He was an Army doctor for thirty years and had seen everything, and he provided a lot of guidance.”
Looking over my shoulder at Elizabeth’s diaries, he said, “Last time we talked, Elizabeth and William had gotten engaged. Did you get to the wedding night yet?” I nodded. Pulling up a chair next to mine, he asked, “Well, how did it go?”
I answered in full blush. “Elizabeth described it as a ‘curious ritual,’ but then she got the hang of it.”
Michael picked up the diary, and it fell open to a page dated 26 March 1793.
I have at last had a letter from Mr. Lacey. He writes he has been unwell and blames the foul London air for his complaints. Georgiana tends to his needs, but he wishes that another was in his chamber ministering to him. He assures me that as soon as he is well enough to ride, and if the weather stays fine, he will be in Hertfordshire at the earliest possible time. My feelings for him are so strong that I lie awake at night and go over in my mind our moments at Helmsley Hall when he first kissed me. I shall never forget the intensity of my feelings when he put his hands around my waist and pulled me to him. I pray that he will return to me soon, as I long for him to place his hands upon me once again.
“That’s pretty hot stuff for its time, isn’t it? Will Lacey wanting Elizabeth in his bed chamber, and she wanting him to put his hands on her again.”
I started to laugh. “She wants his hands around her waist. I’m sure that was exciting enough for someone who had never been kissed before.”
“If you think acting out the different parts will help in your research, I am at your disposal.” Looking at me intently, he asked, “Why are you blushing? Is it because I’m flirting with you?”
“That’s part of it.”
“Is there any reason I should stop? Are you spoken for or engaged? Has something changed since I saw you in London?”
“Michael, why did you write that letter when you were in Germany apologizing for flirting with me? You said it wouldn’t happen again, but you’ve done nothing but flirt since you got home.” The letter had jarred me. I thought he was letting me know that his interest in me had been a temporary thing and not to expect similar attention when he got back to England.
Michael sat back in his chair and said, “Because I was afraid I had scared you off — that when I got back to England, you would have moved to the States. Do you remember how I closed the letter I sent to my parents? I wrote, ‘I love you all.’ That was for you.”
There was no avoiding it now. I had to tell him I was leaving. “I am going back to the States on December 15th.”
Michael pushed back his chair to increase the distance between us. “It’s not necessary for you to be so dramatic, Maggie. If you don’t want to see me, it doesn’t require your putting the Atlantic between us.”
I was stung by what he said, and I told him so. “That was unkind. If anything, you would be one of the reasons why I would stay.”
“What does that mean?”
“It means that there are so many reasons why I have to go back, but the most important is my Aunt Marie. She’s in her eighties and may have only a few more weeks to live. She helped Grandma and my mother time and time again. And I haven’t seen my mother and family in more than two years, and I miss them.” I felt myself tearing up because I was being pulled in two different directions. I did not want to leave England and Michael, but I had to go home to see my aunt one last time.
“Michael, you would save yourself a lot of heartache if you would find yourself a nice British girl. Not an Australian and not an American.”
Michael stood up and pulled me out of my chair and said, “I don’t want a nice British girl. I want you.” And he started to kiss me, pulling me into him so that I could barely breathe. He kept on kissing me until we had backed onto the sofa, and then he lay on top of me. With each movement, I wanted him more than I had ever wanted anyone or anything in my life. When he sat up and started to unbuckle his belt, I kicked off my shoes and was unhooking my nylons, when he suddenly stopped and pulled me up into a sitting position. I didn’t understand why, and I started to cry.
With his arms around me, he said, “Maggie, with all of the things that you have on your mind right now, it would be wrong for me to make love to you.” Taking my hands in his, he continued. “You need to go home, but after seeing your aunt and family, you have to decide what it is that you want. If it’s Rob, then I’ll leave you alone. But if you decide that you want to be with me, I don’t want any hesitation on your part — no second guessing — no regrets. I want you to feel about me in the same way that I feel about you. I’m not sharing you with anyone.”
We went for a ride to the Peak District. A cold front had brought with it beautiful blue skies but with enough clouds to cast shadows on the rolling terrain. We walked out onto a promontory for the most gorgeous view of the entire district. We discussed whether he should come to London before I left on Wednesday but decided it would be too obvious why he was there. Before returning to the house, we kissed and hugged, but mostly we talked.
As expected, Beth took the news of my leaving graciously and said I would be with the Crowell family in spirit at Christmastime. Jack said nothing, creating an uncomfortable silence. Finally, Michael suggested we all go down to the Hare and Hound for drinks, but both parents begged off, citing fatigue from the wedding reception.
“Don’t worry about Dad, Maggie,” Michael said. “He’s not the most articulate man. I know he’s sorry to see you go; he just doesn’t know how to express it.”
When I went to my room, there was a note on my desk from Jack, asking if I would join him for breakfast at 7:30.
I’d like to talk to you, so it will be just the two of us. Jack
The change in the weather had brought a biting wind with it, but even so, Jack and I decided to walk to the village. The inn had a fair amount of people eating breakfast in their dining room, but there had been a definite drop-off since the fall colors had faded. After our tea arrived, Jack said, “You know me well enough to know I’m not an emotional man — not on the surface, anyway — but your news, well, it upset me. It’s one thing to have your sons go off, but you expect boys to leave.”
Jack stopped talking for several minutes and just stared into the fire before saying, “Beth and I had a little girl. We knew from the day she was born that she would — that she would be leaving us. Just one short week. That’s all the time we had.” Looking at his hand, he said, “She was the smallest baby I ever saw. After losing Tom and Beth’s brothers, well, it was too much. I thought God was punishing me, but last year, when I met you… You see, you’re exactly the same age our Jenny would have been.”
Jack took a check out of his pocket and slid it across the table. “I called Pan American Airlines, and they told me that was how much a one-way ticket between New York and London costs.” The check was for several hundred pounds, and I shook my head.
“Maggie, I grew up in a house where everyone knew their place. Because of that, I always felt boxed in. I was lucky in that Sir Edward saw potential in me and paid my expenses at The Tech. But, you see, it was still his decision.” Tapping the check, he continued, “I’m hoping you will use the money to come back to us, but if that’s not your choice, then that money is there for you to start out wherever you want. I would have done the same for our Jenny. Please take it.”
I had to excuse myself and go to the ladies’ room. I was crying for so many reasons. I didn’t want to leave the Crowells because they had provided me with love and affection. Beth had done her best to act the part of my mother without usurping her role. But Jack was another story. My father was a man who had been raised in a house where men didn’t show affection. The emotional pounding he had taken from his father had left a man who always seemed to be watching his family from a distance. It had literally been years since my dad had hugged me, and the comparison between Jack and my father was breaking my heart.
If that wasn’t emotional enough, Jack and I walked down to the World War I memorial on the village green. There were ten names listed on the plaque, including Arnie Ferguson, the older brother of Montclair’s gardener; David Rivers, the brother of the owner of the Inn; Trevor and Matthew Lacey; and Michael Thomas Crowell. I hadn’t known that Michael had been named after Jack’s brother.
“When Tom was still a lad, there was a footman named Mike below stairs, so everyone took to calling my brother by his middle name. Our Michael is named after Tom, and James is named after me, James Abel Crowell or JAC, Jack.”
Puzzled looks greeted us when we got back to the house. Both Michael and Beth could see I had been crying, but neither asked any questions.
The following morning, Michael drove me to the Sheffield Station. Before leaving, I asked that he drop me off at the car park and not go into the station. I had barely recovered from Jack’s story, and Beth had lost a gallant effort not to cry. I was already emotionally spent, and I didn’t want to start bawling in the station. I was turning into a real crybaby.
As soon as Michael cut the engine, he jumped out, opened my door, and took my luggage to the entrance to the station. “A telegram would be nice once you get to your parents’ house.”
I nodded. I wasn’t trusting my voice. With people milling all around us, I kissed him for as long as decency would allow, and then I went into the station to begin my long journey home.
December 15th was a brilliantly clear day at the small airport north of London that was used by the government to ferry its diplomats and officials around the world. On the plane, the seating had all of the bigwigs up front in comfortable chairs with tables. The little people sat in reclining chairs in the rear of the plane which, I was shortly to learn, was where turbulence was felt the most.
The pilot announced over the intercom that our flight plan would take us over Iceland, across the Atlantic to Newfoundland, where we would refuel, and finally down the East Coast of the United States to our final destination at National Airport in Washington. Except for some early queasiness, I did quite well compared to my sea voyage from Philadelphia to Hamburg. I fell asleep over Iceland and didn’t awake until we were told we were landing.
During the flight, Rand checked on me every couple of hours but gave no indication he wanted to chat. Once we landed, he said it would be about two hours before we would go on to Washington, and he invited me to go into the terminal for a cup of coffee. On the walls were photos of battles in which Newfoundlanders had fought in The Great War: Arras, Vimy Ridge, Cambrai, Gallipoli. But it was the Battle of Beaumont- Hamel on the Somme that was forever linked with the 1st Newfoundland Regiment. Pointing to a quote by Major General Sir Beauvoir de Lisle, Rand said, “That explains it all.”
It was a magnificent display of trained and disciplined valour, and its assault only failed of success because dead men can advance no further.
The regiment went over the top on July 1, 1916, the first day of the Battle of the Somme. When they had time to count their losses, they found that of the eight-hundred men who had gone into battle, fewer than seventy men answered at roll call. In thirty minutes, the regiment had lost ninety percent of its strength. I thought about Tom Crowell, who had also gone over the top on that awful day. It not only took his life, but it changed his brother forever.
As soon as we took off, my eyes were glued to the window. I wasn’t sure of the distance between Newfoundland and the United States, but I wasn’t going to miss seeing any part of the country I had left more than two years earlier. When the pilot announced we had entered the air space of the United States, I had goose bumps. As we traveled down the East Coast, he pointed out the Gaspe Peninsula, Boston, and Providence. From my window, I could see the Statue of Liberty in New York Harbor and the Empire State Building, and after flying over Philadelphia and Baltimore, I could feel the plane losing altitude in preparation for landing.
It was then I caught sight of the Jefferson Memorial and the Tidal Basin. It was in this city that my first venture into the adult world had begun in June 1944. When I had arrived at Union Station on that hot summer day, I didn’t know what direction my life would take. Now, I was returning to my home country a different person but still unsure of my future. That had to change. I couldn’t continue with such uncertainty. Like Michael had said, it was time to make a decision.