The Long Road Home

By Anna Hughes... He heard a light step on the porch and braced himself. A sharp knock shattered the silence and he limped to the door to find Ada Whitlock at the threshold, a smile on her face...

Tom Pettigrew peered out his front window, watching the crowd milling in the street.  It seemed half the village had turned out for the inaugural New Year’s Eve Block Party.  A group of boys, whooping and hollering, chased each other down the street.   A part of him wanted to scream at them, tell them to get inside - the street is no place to play.  Any moment now the German air force could come in low over the horizon, their deadly payload wreaking havoc among unprepared civilians. 

He knew this wasn’t rational. The Great War ended two years ago, but he still struggled to shake his constant feeling of dread.  Yet another legacy of the battlefield, he supposed.

A few neighbors waved to him and he shrank back behind the curtain, drawing solitude around him like a mantle. Youthful exuberance wasn’t the only thing he’d left on the front line.

He heard a light step on the porch and braced himself.  A sharp knock shattered the silence and he limped to the door to find Ada Whitlock at the threshold, a smile on her face and a basket on her arm.

“Miss Whitlock.” Her sparkling green eyes and blond curls caused his breath to catch.  He stiffened his shoulders in resolve.

“Tom,” she replied with a familiar lilt in her voice.  “Aren’t you going to invite me in?”

Tom sighed and moved aside.  Years of experience had taught him that trying to dissuade Ada from any chosen course of action was akin to holding back the tide.  If any man was up to the challenge, it certainly wasn’t him.  

“I missed you at Midnight Mass last week, so thought I would drop by with a few gifts before you take me to the party,” she informed him in a tone that brooked no argument.

Tom tugged at the end of his jumper sleeve, unsure what to say.  It was the one with the extra-long arms that Ada knitted him last year.  The one that covered his hands.

“Now, don’t you worry.  I expect nothing in return other than your company at tonight’s festivities,” Ada continued, bustling into the room and placing the basket on the table.  

Tom tentatively drew back the cloth cover, revealing an array of soaps and lotions.

“I made them myself,” she said softly.  “The lotions are good for your skin and the soap is gentle, too.”

“It’s very kind of you,” he finally managed, “but I won’t be attending the party tonight.  I feel a cold coming on.”

Ada frowned.  “What nonsense! You look perfectly healthy.  In fact, I think a bit of fresh air is just what you need.  Besides, it wouldn’t do for a young lady to attend on her own now, would it?”

Tom knew when he was beaten.  “I’ll get my coat.” 

*************

The crisp night air was bracing and Tom was glad of his greatcoat.  It hung loosely on him now.  His once broad shoulders were stooped, his gaunt frame another reminder of the wasted years spent fighting other men’s wars.  If Ada noticed, she made no mention. 

It took almost an hour to reach the end of the street, such was Ada’s determination to chat with every neighbor, friend and acquaintance she encountered.  For his part, Tom didn’t say much.  He simply pulled his hat down low to cover the scars on his face.  A few children stared.  He longed to retreat to the seclusion of his house, but Ada was an irresistible force.  

He felt his gammy leg start to tremble and for a terrible moment feared he might fall.  But Ada was there.  Her slight frame provided enough support to steady himself and continue their stroll.

Their walk led them to a small park, where a bench provided some respite from the crowd. 

As they sat in the moon-shadow of an old oak tree, Tom finally began to speak.

“Ada, this can’t go on.” He hung his head, clasping his hands between his knees.

For the first time that evening Ada’s cheerful disposition slipped.

“Now, you listen to me, Tom Pettigrew!  I waited four long years while you were fighting in Europe.  Four years not knowing if you were dead or alive.  Then two more since the War ended, watching you lock yourself away from the world - from me!  If you think I’m ever giving up, you’re sadly mistaken!”

He clenched his left fist, his mangled right hand a permanent claw.

”Ada, when you said you’d marry me before the War, you made me the happiest man in the world.  Letting you go when I got home was the hardest thing I’ve ever had to do.”

In the darkness, Ada smiled pensively.  “I remember when you proposed.  I couldn’t believe it.  You were the strongest, most handsome man I’d ever met.”

“I’m not that man any more.  You have your whole life ahead of you.  You’re far too young and beautiful to waste your life on a broken-down wreck like me.”

Fire flashed in Ada’s eyes.

“I’ll be the judge of that!  You are also the kindest, gentlest and most generous person I’ve ever known.  I want nothing more than to spend the rest of my life with you.” 

A single tear slid slowly down Tom’s ruined cheek.  

“I made a vow I’d wait as long as I had to until you found your way home to me – and that’s exactly what I’m going to do. I don’t care how long it takes.  You’re still the Tom I love and you’re not going anywhere without me ever again.”

She leaned in and gently kissed his tear away. 

“I love you, Tom.  I always have and I always will.”  

She slipped her small hand into his larger maimed one.  Somewhere, deep inside, Tom felt a flutter of hope.  The road ahead would be long, but with Ada beside him he was beginning to believe the journey home might just be worth it.

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