In Search of a Hero

Words to Live By

The gathering that evening wasn't quite the lively celebration originally planned but the community came together nonetheless in a spirit of love and friendship and support. Built in the aftermath of the Civil War to house the families of the mostly Irish, mostly Catholic, working class men who filled the shipyards and textile factories of Philadelphia, the row houses shared much more than common walls and a long roof line. Generations lived together. Weddings were held in backyards and living rooms. Children were born in their parents' bed and loved ones died surrounded by their families. In more ways than one, Pinehurst Street was itself a family. Blood from the men who lived there had been shed on the battlefields of the Civil War, and in trenches dug in the muddy plains of the Great War. Now, once again, sons and fathers and brothers had been called by their country to fight half a world away and no home had been left untouched. That was comfort, too, and it enveloped Roger and Brenda Stewart as they grieved in those first, terrible hours.

The atmosphere lightened somewhat when the Stewarts made their sad way home. The young people especially were determined to wring what fun could be had out of the night. A phonograph player was found, and records from Duke Ellington and Glen Miller filled the party with music. A grassy yard was perhaps not the best surface for the jitterbug but they gave it their best shot, and soon enough, legs were flying and knees flashed as skirts flew up. Older couples were easily convinced to join in when the tempo allowed for a more sedate foxtrot or waltz, and although Booth and Brennan deliberately avoided the temptation of dancing together, they each remained hyper-aware of the other.

Booth was watching when Brennan used the excuse of inappropriate footwear to beg out of a fast swing when the neighborhood lothario, in slicked back hair and a wide-shouldered zoot suit, held out an imperious hand. He also noticed that her shoes provided no such impediment when first Hank and then the rest of his friends asked for a dance, and that she followed their sometimes shuffling steps with grace and poise.

For her part, Brennan found it impossible to ignore the crowd of hungry-eyed women who surrounded Booth for most of the night. Having packed only essential clothes in order to leave room in her suitcase for the paperwork she considered more important, she had nothing so fancy as the pretty dresses on display, leaving her feeling almost dowdy in comparison. Precious drops of perfume scented ears and wrists, the brightest shades of red gleamed on smiles that never faded, and she was certain that every nearby salon had been put to use creating the perfectly curled victory rolls the women wore in their hair. Booth used the excuse of his feet to avoid dancing, too, she saw, but that did nothing to dampen the attention from his throng of admirers. They merely stayed close, elbowing each other out of the way as they fought to keep his plate and glass full, and laughing uproariously at the slightest hint of something funny. As one of the few single men of eligible age there, he would have garnered attention regardless, but his dark good looks and the magnetism of his virile, masculine presence proved to be an irresistible bonus.

After a couple of hours, Brennan pleaded a headache and said her goodbyes, leaving the friends and neighbors to themselves soon after darkness fell. Resolving to put Booth out of her mind and determined not to repeat the sleepless pattern of the night before, she took advantage of her solitude to soak in a hot tub until the water cooled, and for good measure, risked exposure again to the seductive aroma of Booth's shaving kit to shake out two Bayer aspirin. The plan worked; whether it was the long, relaxing bath, the medication, or merely the previous night catching up with her, she was sound asleep before the two men returned home. She was spared the sounds of Booth's nightly rituals, and spared, too, the twinge of squeaky bedsprings across the hall as he tossed and turned in his own bout of broken sleep.

Brennan woke the next morning with a fresh sense of purpose. The previous day and a half felt like a small break in what had been weeks of frenzied activity and planning. Headed back to reality, with only the weekend stretching out before the trip to Richmond marked the official start of the tour, excitement hummed in her veins. The tragic events with the Stewarts had reinforced for her what was at stake, and made her more determined than ever to wring every last dollar from the bond drives. She told herself that the electric feeling of possibility and potential had nothing to do with the unexpectedly charismatic Captain Seeley Booth.