Nurse Kathy Rose is running away. She can't bear to live in the same neighborhood on the south side of Boston where she and her husband both grew up. Bill was dead, killed in a German POW camp after the Battle of the Bulge. So she packs up her bags...
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She had always worn her hair in an old fashioned style that brought many a teasing remark from her fellow nurses, but that had never bothered Kathy. It was the same style that her mother wore herself. And there was no one else in the world that Kathy wanted to emulate more than Dorothy Rose.
She hesitated in the room where she'd lived since she was thirteen at 651 East Third Street. She was being cowardly. After her father had died, her mother had pulled herself up by her bootstraps and gotten them through the worst years of the Great Depression with barely a scratch. She worked through her grief, persevered.
Kathy was running away from heartbreak and they all knew it.
Pinning on her hat and touching up her lipstick, she lifted her chin and gave one last look at the mirror. She was pretty, but nothing extraordinary. Kathy was the kind of pretty that was seen on many girls of her age. Sweet, but common, like her personality.
She was smart, but not too smart. Hardworking, but not self sacrificing. Kind, but never one to put herself out there. She had never understood what Bill had seen in her, but that was one of his many gifts. Bill could see the extraordinary in the ordinary then love the individual perfectly, without question.
Kathy paused, swallowing against the knot in her throat. She needed to say goodbye to him, she knew she had to in order to move forward. But how was she supposed to do that? Where was Bill's grave for her to lay flowers on? There had been no funeral, no prayer services, no memorial. His father had been too destroyed to hold one. It was as though her husband had vanished into thin air.
"Kathleen! You're going to miss your bus!" Alice called up the stairs.
Nodded to her reflection, blue eyes blinking back tears, she slipped her wedding band on her ring finger. Kathy picked up her suitcase and strode from her bedroom.
Her mother couldn't see her off at the bus station downtown, it was too hard for her. Aunt Frances couldn't bring herself to do it either. So that left Alice and Dr. March.
"Your father would be proud of you," Dr. March, her parents' oldest friend, said as the three of them walked into the Greyhound station. "Picking yourself up and starting new. It takes courage."
She didn't feel brave. She felt like she was abandoning her family, but wasn't willing to stop herself. Kathy struggled through a smile as she turned to them. "I'll do my best."
Dr. March was her father's age, if her father had lived. The older gentleman, with his bone white hair, produced a delicate nosegay wrapped in baby blue ribbon from behind his back. Lily of the Valley. The other flower that she had carried on her wedding day.
"I remembered you had these in your bridal bouquet," he said, tucking the flowers in her palm. "Do you know what it means when you give them to someone?"
Kathy studied the nosegay in her hands. "No."
"It means you wish them a return to happiness."
Kathy blinked up, her lips parting. Alice gave her an encouraging smile despite the tears in her eyes. Dr. March nudged her chin with his knuckles like her father used to do when she was little.
"I expect nothing, but happiness and joy to come your way from this point out. I can feel it." His gravelly voice cracked as he spoke.
Kathy couldn't say the words. She couldn't say goodbye. So she pulled them each into a tight embrace and strode towards the ticket counter. She didn't look back at them after receiving her stamp, but she knew they were still there, watching her till she found an empty bench near the exit where her bus to San Francisco was scheduled to pull up.
***
Joe Liebgott sank into one of the god-awful, uncomfortable seats at the bus depot. Three years earlier, he'd spent an entire night in one, trying to get some shut eye. He was coming back from leave before they had shipped out and had nowhere else to stay. That was a hell of a crick in the neck by dawn.
"I'm going to go get me one of those mystery magazines," Frank Perconte said, digging a quarter out of his pocket after dumping his duffel bag beside Joe's. "You want anything?"
Joe ran a hand over his clean shaven chin. "Yeah. Yeah, can you get me a box of those... what do you call 'em?" He snapped his fingers as if he could conjure the word out of thin air. "Shit, you know. Them boxes with the caramel... the peanuts... a box of..." he popped a stick of Juicy fruit in his mouth.
"... a box of?" Frank pressed, waving a hand impatiently.
"Cracker Jacks! Yeah, get me a box of Cracker Jacks."
"The kind with the surprise toy?"
Joe crooked an eyebrow. "Yeah. So the fuck what?"
"Nothing. That'll be 10 cents." Frank smirked and held out his palm.
Joe eyed the shorter paratrooper with a bemused expression. "So you're going to forget all those beers I bought you last night at that Red Sox game?"
Frank scoffed and closed his hand. "It was only two beers."
But he didn't argue as he walked towards the concessions on the opposite side of the lobby. They only had five minutes before their first bus connection showed up. It would take them first to St. Louis where they would part ways, Frank going up north to Indiana while Joe continued out west towards home.
Home. Joe hadn't seen San Francisco in almost four years. His ma said that she would be waiting at the depot for him in her letter, along with his little sister, Gal Rosie Liebgott. Their first stop would doubtlessly be Salem Memorial Park, the Jewish cemetery where his father was buried.
His ma would insist he pay his respects, but Joe wouldn't mind. He wanted to see the new headstone. It hadn't been put in yet before he'd left for basic training back in '42.
Smacking his gum, he slumped in his seat. Joe laced his fingers over his middle and glanced down at his bag. The drawstring top at come loose.
"Shit," he muttered, leaning down and rummaging through the bag to make sure he hadn't lost any of his stuff. "Where... where is it? Damnit."
"Where is what?" Perconte asked, holding out his box of Cracker Jacks.
"My book!"
"You read?"
"Of course, I read! I just got it too..." he dug deeper into his bag.
Perconte leaned his head over, taking a bite of his Baby Ruth bar. "That it?"
Joe peeked under his seat and exhaled heavily. "Yeah. There it is."
Perconte looked over his shoulder as Joe dusted it off. "Dick Tracy Ace Detective. Any good?"
"Haven't started it yet. Should be through it by the time we get to St. Louis though."
The intercom rang over their heads, announcing that the 9:15 to St. Louis was boarding. They would reach their first stop in the wee hours of the morning. Shoving the book in one pocket and the Cracker Jacks in the other, Joe slung his bag over his shoulder. He turned to follow Perconte who was already on his way towards the exit.
"Hey! Excuse you, lady," Joe protested as a young woman collided into him then kept walking without a word, her eyes wild as she paced the waiting area and scanned the floor. She didn't even pause. Shaking his head, Joe continued towards the bus. "Happy trails."
