The English Descendants

16

The politics in Europe worry Alan and the children pepper their supper conversations with questions about Germany and this new political might calling itself Nazi. They are careful to do this only when they have no guests. The conversations make Charlotte uncomfortable. Eliot's military experience means he is likely to go to war if the United States joins it. And in 1940, he welcomes a son, Richard Cutler McMichael, into the world. The boy is so small when the bombs fall on Pearl Harbor and the Navy calls for his service. The entire family accompanies Eliot to Michigan Central Depot to see him off early in 1942.

There are those there who beam as their soldiers board the trains, and others who cry, too aware of what the Great War brought not very long ago. The Cushing-McMichael family does not shout and wave with joy to see Eliot in his uniform, but they are still very proud of him. Charlotte fusses over his lapels while Maria holds their son. She said her goodbyes at the house, worried that the German that still lingers in her language and her accent will bring scorn. She has heard the stories from her parents about what life was like during the Great War.

Anne and May Ellen hold hands while Dexter tugs on Alan's coat, full of questions. He is twelve and still does not entirely understand how bombs from Japan are connected to the war in Europe. But this is not the time for answers and Alan keeps telling him to wait until they return home. Anne and May Ellen are fourteen and both feel as though they must be young women before they are ready. They share a room in their grandmother's house and they will again tonight. They try to smile and wave as Eliot's train pulls away from the station.

Edith takes a deep breath, "And he's off."

"Yes, he is. Hopefully he will be home before next Christmas," Alan says, optimistic beyond what he feels is actually likely.

Charlotte takes Richard while Edith guides Maria, Alan in charge of the other children, "We'd best keep up our strength. There will be many letters to write in our future and you know we are all going to want to keep up on the war reports- an exhausting task we will need to be well nourished for," Charlotte says.

That night, May Ellen falls asleep quickly, already tired from an evening of worry about her father. Anne sits up on her own for a little while before sneaking up to the attic. She has always loved it in the uppermost level, the little windows in the roof peaks providing views of life in the neighbourhood she would otherwise never see. There is also a trunk full of wonderful mechanical toys and models that she knows she is likely not supposed to know about or touch, but she cannot help but open every time she creeps upstairs. They fascinate her. She winds one of them and watches the little gears turn.

Thomas is always near when she is up in the attic. He loves the little space- it reminds him of the one place in Allerdale hall that was his and his alone. The one place he ever felt content and at rest. He often lets himself wonder what would have happened if Lucille hadn't interrupted he and Edith with her damned tea. There wasn't really a good place for intimacy in his workshop, but...it certainly would have made the space feel all the more sacred to have shared a first with his wife there. Anne's love of his little inventions reminds him so much of Edith.

"Thomas? Are you here?"

"Yes, my girl. As always."

"I've been thinking...and it's not thoughts I like."

"Your uncle has gone off to war. I would expect no less."

There are tears in her eyes as she shakes her head, "That's not even what I am thinking about."

"Oh?" He sits beside her on Enola's trunk, a music box in her lap.

She winds it and listens to the tinkling song for a few moments before continuing, "I have to grow up and be a young lady now. My mother is going to work for the Geological survey making maps. She's talked to Maria about May and I doing the same. We're old enough to help out now. And because of that, I'm not sure I can have an imaginary friend anymore."

"Even one who is really a ghost?"

"I don't know. Probably."

He sighs, "I will be here when you call. I promised myself years ago that I would watch over this family as my penance for a life wasted. If you need me, I will always come."

She nods and wipes her eyes on her sleeve, "Thank you. When May or I have children, perhaps you could play with them as you did us."

"If you wish."

"Which is the exact opposite of Mom, isn't it? I know how you never came around when there were adults near. Except when you spoke to Grandpa. You knew him, didn't you?"

"Briefly."

"But long enough that he thought you capable of watching the children."

"Or desperate enough."

"I may have been asleep, but I heard what Mother said."

"But you still trusted me?"

"I thought that since you had never hurt us, she must have just been hysterical from Harry's death. But there's a lot about you I don't know, isn't there?"

"Yes."

"And you won't tell me?"

"No."

"Should I ask Mom?"

"No."

"Grandma?"

"Better."

She smiles, "Thank you, Thomas. For all you've been to me. I think, at least for a little while, I need to be a grown up, though. So goodbye for now, imaginary friend."

"Goodbye, dear girl." He fades and leaves. Even if she does not want to see him, there are things he feels he must do for the family. There are children to keep track of and father heading into war to watch. But he is distraught and neither of these options seem good. So instead, he returns to his grave and settles into his death for just a little rest.