Letters to Hank

Prologue

Hazel Kroyer watched her brother, Henry Gordon, as he stared at himself in the mirror. His hair that once was a sea of chocolate now was speckled with the silver strands of age. At the corner of his lips rested deep wrinkles that forced him to frown. World War II had left him in shambles and taken his decency.

He once was a jolly man—one everyone in town knew and loved to see. His laugh had been the most melodious song that could be heard, and his smile was more radiant than a rainbow right after a storm. He was a man many people knew, cherished, and admired. But after a rogue bomb took his left leg in 1944, the world around him seemed to fade. His health deteriorated, his wife abandoned him, and he suddenly stopped thriving. He settled for his mundane life as a retired veteran living in the suburbs of Saint Louis, Missouri, under the close care of Hazel.

"Oh, Hank," Hazel said with a frown. She wore a navy-blue collared dress with a golden belt synched at her waist. Her chestnut hair was tied in a bun at the nape of her neck. "You've got to get out every once in a while."

"I got everything I need right here."

Hazel sat at the foot of Henry's bed and sighed. "You have what you need, sure." She looked around the small, drab room, dejected. "But when was the last time you did something you actually enjoyed?"

Henry gave a bleak laugh. "I ate breakfast this morning."

Unamused, Hazel rose to her feet. "Come to Colorado with us, Hank. It'll be good for you to get out of the house."

"I'd rather not."

"Why? James would be elated." Hazel patted her brother on the shoulder and smiled. "He loves his Uncle Hank."

Henry shrugged. "What are you going to do there? Hike? Explore? Climb the mountains?" He glanced down at where his leg used to be. "I can't do any of that, Hazel. I'd be nothing but a pain in the—"

"Watch your mouth, Henry Gordon."

"Hazel, my days of traveling are over. They've been over since Forty-Four."

She frowned. "I can't force you to come. But please know the invitation remains open."

"I won't accept it."

"Then I'll send a postcard. Maybe that'll cheer you up."

Hazel imagined herself writing a postcard, a Colorado breeze combing through her hair. Seeing the mountains in her mind send adrenaline running through her. Yes, she would send a postcard to her one-legged brother. Perhaps it would be everything he needed.