Only a Paper Moon [ Band of Brothers ] 3

Chapter Seven

As Alice got out of the car, the wind hit her in the face causing her to shrink back. But Kitty's enthusiasm as she danced in place on the sidewalk to try to stay warm forced her to get over the fear of the cold and join her and Blanche. She closed her driver's side door with a thud.

"It's cute," Blanche told Kitty. "I like the white."

They'd bundled into the Nixon car after breakfast. The destination: St. Ignatius church, on the other end of the city where Kitty and Harry had planned their wedding for Saturday. Alice had to admit Blanche was right. The three sets of dark, heavy doors sat in contrast against white stone, including expertly sculpted tympana. It looked like a more modern attempt at Gothic. 

"Isn't it gorgeous!" Kitty grinned. "Come on!"

Alice laughed as she moved next to Blanche. Sparing her a side glance, she grinned to see Blanche watching Kitty hurry forward with the same amusement. They followed. Kitty moved to the stairs up on the right, bounding forward like a small puppy. The other two followed more slowly.

"Have you and Lew talked about weddings much?" Blanche asked her. She glanced over at Alice. "Not to rush you, of course. But my mom was talking about it before I came east again."

With a small shake of her head, Alice shot her a smile. "Talked about it? Several times. We always come to the same conclusion: we have no idea what we should do."

"You should just get married," Blanche argued.

They hit the top step together, shoes hitting the concrete as one. The door had already started closing behind Kitty and Blanche caught it just before it slammed shut. Alice went in first, and Blanche behind. The vestibule space was small. Quiet, peaceful.

To the left, a small wood table with some rosaries and prayer cards, and to the right, Alice found a painting of what she guessed to be Mary. A pretty woman, if a bit sad. Alice followed Blanche after Kitty into the main space of the church.

Small. That was the first word to come to her mind. The walls inside were a pale cream color, with some stained glass windows. Maybe a hundred people would've fit inside, packed close together. At the front, an altar had two candles to either side, and behind it on the wall hung a massive crucifix.

"Roster count. We lost well over half the men in Bastogne. We're down to sixty-three."

The candles, the crucifix. Alice froze. Memories crashed into her, of Ron and Lip and George, of Foy and Rachamps.

Her chest tightened. The cold held a tight grip on her. A death grip. Tears filled her eyes. She could almost see them there, the living and the dead. Skip had always carried a rosary. Skip had always prayed. She'd been like Jeanne d'Arc, or so he'd teased. 

The candles, the crucifix, the rosaries. She could all but hear the angelic choir. Her throat tightened, trying to hold back tears. But all it did was cause her to cough.

Alice would have screamed if she'd known it wouldn't have alerted half the town. Instead, she turned tail and hurried out the door. Her hands shook as she grabbed the door to the outside and thrust it open. Frigid air choked her.

She sped down the steps. Her heels clicked against the concrete. When she at last reached the car, she unlocked it and slipped inside. Alice couldn't hold back her tears much longer. But she couldn't let her makeup run. She couldn't ruin Kitty's wedding. She couldn't do this, not here and not now.

In through the nose, out through the mouth. That's how Gene had taught her. Letting her head rest against the seat, she tried to practice it. Relax. Alice couldn't let the fear control her. But then the faces of Skip and Alex and Bill and Joe took over her mind and made it worse.