again. In fact, there was a lot she would never again take for granted, like food, and window glass, and the earthy smell of manure in the fields, which was far better than rotting hemp and charred earth.
She slowly made her way up the concrete path to the front door. Her stomach cramped with nervousness. Pain and memories had kept her awake on the train from Chicago. She hadn’t taken any time to see Sal when she had changed trains, the chapter on that part of her life closed.
On the long voyage home aboard the hospital ship, she had written him a multipage letter.
She admitted to being furious with him for a while for forcing her hand. Because it had become clear to her, after rereading his first telegram, that his meddling had started long before the OSS had contacted him. He had been very careful with his wording in that missive. He never actually said her father had found him, only that her father wanted her address. Which of course he probably did.
What Sal had really been looking for was permission to reach out to her parents. Because he wanted something better for her than a life spent working at the Palace. He had wanted her to forget her “unhealthy obsession” with Jimmy. He had wanted her to go home and be who she was supposed to be.
Because Sal loved her, which is why she had completely forgiven him. And why she wouldn’t be going back to Chicago, at least not right away. Maybe not ever. Because she was done living a lie. Even if her parents kicked her back out, she owed them and Fern the truth.
She was done running away.
Realizing she had been staring blindly at the doorbell button for over a minute, she squared her shoulders and pushed it.
Time to face the music.
Inside the house, she heard the familiar chimes. Goose pimples rose on her arms as memories, good and bad, assailed her. Would the house smell the same when the door opened? Would the furniture be the same? The wallpaper, the light fixtures?
“Coming.” Her mother’s muffled voice came through the door.
Vi smoothed her skirt with one hand but had lost the ability to breathe. Her heart pounded so hard she could barely hear the birds twittering in the neighbors’ trees.
The door opened, revealing her mother’s beloved face, and time stopped for Vi. For several unbearably long seconds, her mother stared at her, unmoving. Shock, wonderment, fear all crossed her mother’s face, and then her eyes filled with tears, her face crumpling. Vi couldn’t stand it, and tears streamed down her cheeks as she took the first tentative steps toward her mother. “Mom?”
Suddenly Vi was engulfed in her mother’s arms. “Oh, my Lord,” her mother said, her voice choked, as she squeezed Vi tight. “Oh, my dear sweet Lord. Thank you, thank you. Thank you!”
Overcome by the love in her mother’s welcome, Vi closed her eyes against the flood of rioting emotions. Relief, hope, love, joy . . . she couldn’t breathe for it. She leaned into her mother’s embrace and hugged her back. All her carefully planned speeches were forgotten. It was all she could do to not start sobbing against her mother’s chest.
“Frank!” her mother called over her shoulder for Vi’s father. “Frank, you’ve got to come in here. Violet’s home! Vi—” Her voice broke. “Vi’s come home.”
A chair scraped on the floor in the dining room. And then she found herself being passed into her father’s embrace. The familiar scents of pipe tobacco and coffee, her father in a single whiff, engulfed her. More emotions came unleashed, guilt and remorse at the top of the list.
“I’m so sorry, Daddy,” she said, her voice muffled as she burrowed her face into his soft woolen sweater-vest. “So, so sorry!”
“It’s all right, honey. You’re home. That’s all that matters.” Her father’s deep bass voice rumbled under her ear, just like when she had been younger. Her hero. Her protector. “Do I need to pay your taxi?”
Appalled that she had forgotten all about the poor taxi driver, she sniffed and pushed back. “I can do it. Give me a sec.”
Her mother threaded her arm through Vi’s free one. “Frank, pay her fare while I get her seated in the parlor. She’s practically swaying on her feet with exhaustion.”
With a rush of gratitude, Vi let her mother pull her into the parlor. Her knees weakened as she looked around, the rush of memories provoked by the familiar details