Homecoming Ch. 08

Homecoming Ch. 08 Edited by Frinkles© 2007

This chapter was edited to correct a date discrepancy/error that was driving me crazy -- no more, no less. Everything else in the story is exactly the same.

Alright, alright...UNCLE! For those of you who are disappointed in Daniel's actions, believe me so am I. The guy is human. He's a bit of an idiot at times. He's letting his little head do the thinking rather than the "big" head. He knows he screwed up which is why he's in the dang farmhouse praying for a second chance while he's bleeding to death. Surprisingly, Lula has some flaws herself. What's a romance without some bumps? Anyway, please be patient and I'll try to make it worth your while to read the entire story even if you want to punish the author with a few virtual tomatoes. Keep up the comments and voting.

I want to give another well-deserved shout out to Techsan. Thanks for all of the editing advice and words of encouragement.

Oh, and one more thing, the lyrics to the Ma Rainey and Bessie Smith tunes are NOT mine. I didn't come up with them and I hold no legal rights to them.

Chapter 8

Ste-Mere-Eglise, France, June 6, 1944

Daniel let out a heartfelt groan as he conjured the memory of his unexpected, albeit enthusiastic, first union with Justine. After that morning, everything had taken a turn for the worst. He'd behaved like an ass with both women — using one and dismissing the other. His father would have been sorely disappointed in him and his actions that summer afternoon.

The young soldier paused for a moment to check his bandages again. No bleeding. He noted a steady and painful throbbing in his leg. He suspected that this was a good thing. Loosening the tourniquet once more to allow blood flow, Daniel mentally calculated how many hours must have passed since the French farmwoman had left the cottage to search for American soldiers and medical help.

The purple bruise of the early morning sky was quickly being replaced with a brighter golden glow. It had to be no later than 0700 hours by his estimation. At least three hours had passed and still no "reinforcements" had arrived to relieve him from his watch.

He grimaced as he shifted in an attempt to relieve his stiff back which had been propped against the hard oak headboard, its ornate carvings looking decidedly out of place amidst the farmhouse bedroom's other modest furnishings. He'd keep watch over the horizon for help. He'd stay awake as long as it took. He'd live through this so that he could go home — so that he could have a homecoming.

By the looks of it, his shattered leg would probably be his ticket home, even though his heart was torn over leaving his comrades behind to finish the job he'd started with them. For some of his fellow soldiers, their homecoming would be a solemn one; Daniel bowed his head in a moment of silence for those who had fallen and those who would fall. Part of him wanted to stay here with the 82nd airborne and make sure everyone had a happy homecoming. Another part of him was anxious to get home to his mother, Mamma Corning and his beloved Lula.

He'd come home and claim the rest of his life. He would claim her — finally.

As he returned his gaze to the window and the apple orchard with its fragrant smells, his attention turned back to counting the thundering booms of tank rounds and the sharp report of firearms. He listened intently to try to distinguish whether the gunfire was from an American or a German weapon. It was a way to occupy his mind and determine just how safe he really was.

The game kept him focused. It kept his mind occupied. It kept him awake. It also kept him from hearing another soldier entering the cottage, his own ankle shattered from this day's drop.

Had he not been so weak from loss of blood and preoccupied with making sure he stayed awake long enough for help to arrive, Daniel would have heard the soldier's quiet footsteps. Even though the other soldier had taken great pains to enter the farmhouse as quietly as possible so as to take any occupying enemy soldiers unawares, one look at Daniel's condition would indicate to anyone that the wounded soldier was in no condition to fight even if he'd heard an approaching enemy.

Daniel's focus was squarely on concentrating on staying awake and staying alive — so his gaze was turned in the direction of the window.

He'd not noticed that he was no longer alone in the farmhouse.

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

Raleigh, North Carolina— July 1, 1941

Lula stood on the porch trying in vain to suppress her anger. Her efforts were not fruitful. Emitting the white-hot heat of her rage from virtually every pore, she watched silently as the beat-up old ford truck ambled up the driveway, kicking up clouds of dust in its wake. The two had been gone almost three hours and it was nearly lunchtime.

How long did it take that heifer to paint on another fucking dress and nail on another pair of shoes?

Lula had been in bad humor since she'd realized that she'd fallen right into Justine's perfect pink plans. Throwing a scalding cup of coffee on Justine had given Lu instant gratification; however, the aftermath — Daniel's anger — was a high price to pay for the luxury of watching the blonde "goddess of love" squirm in discomfort for a few brief seconds. In the end, Justine had turned the "accident" to her favor and won for her the sympathies of a formerly disinterested Daniel.

"That trifling bitch knew exactly what she was doing," Lula muttered to no one in particular before quickly looking around to make sure she hadn't been heard.

The last thing she needed was another clout in the mouth from her mother, especially in front of Justine. Although Lula knew that her mother had always been loathe to raise a hand to her, and had a habit of privately bursting into tears whenever she'd had to take Lu over her knee, Mamma Corning was not above disciplining whenever and wherever the discipline was needed. Notwithstanding the mental warning Lula continued to give herself, watching Justine paw and fawn over Daniel elicited an involuntary stream of obscenities from between Lula's clenched teeth.

As if to ward off the vision of Justine's manicured hands all over Daniel, Lula squeezed her eyes shut and concentrated on counting down from fifty in Latin — a trick Emma had taught her in order to curb her temper. The concentration always distracted her from other unpleasant thoughts. It hadn't worked quite as well this time; Lula's flame of hate burned even brighter as she watched Daniel get out of the truck and walk over to the passenger side to open the door and help Justine climb out onto the dusty dirt drive.

Justine looked as pristine as ever, which was no surprise to Lula. However, what did take her aback was Daniel's demeanor. There was a genuine warmth and intimacy that she'd never seen before when he was around Justine. Until today, Daniel had regarded the pampered vixen with the mild annoyance and the distant amusement one reserved for cute but mischievous puppies. Something had shifted between the two and Lula realized with horror that she'd probably been the catalyst.

The two ignored Lula's gawking as they walked around her, talking and laughing at some stupid joke Daniel must have told her. They were arm in arm, deeply and happily engaged with each other's presence. That observation cut Lula even deeper.

Since his return, Daniel hadn't so much as cracked a smile, let alone actually laughed at anything. He'd taken to stomping around the house and the grounds, grumbling and frowning when he was alone and grousing whenever she'd addressed him; unless of course, he was trying to seduce her. The thought that a few hours alone with Justine was the reason for his improved spirits nearly broke Lula's heart. Even if they could never be close in the way she'd wanted, she'd always hoped they could share that kind of light-hearted camaraderie as friends. Apparently, even that was going to be denied her.

Turning back to follow the happy couple into the house, Lula mused that it was perhaps for the best that she went off to school - maybe sooner rather than later. She wouldn't be able to stomach watching a blossoming romance between the "Princess of Pink" and Daniel. She needed a drink, or at least a few hours away from this goddamn house.

Deciding to skip lunch, Lula turned away from the front door and started back down the path to the pond and a place where she knew she could sit with her thoughts undisturbed.

"Daniel, please tell Mamma that I'm going to skip lunch. I'm still too full from breakfast and got a bit of stomachache," Lula lied as she called back to a mildly annoyed Daniel. "Don't worry, I'm just going down to the pond to sit a spell and think. That always calms me."

Holding up her hands to show that they were empty, Lula continued, "See? No bottles of hooch, nothing up my sleeve, no cigarettes in my pockets...I promise I'll be back up to the house in an hour to work on the garden."

"Tell your mother yourself," Daniel shouted back.

He didn't like the idea of Lula going back down there alone after what he'd witnessed the day before. Anyone could have wandered up on her.

"We aren't going to come and get you if Mamma starts asking."

Lula flinched at the use of the word "we."

"So now its we is it?" she contemplated as she viciously kicked an innocent stone out of her way — it collided loudly with the side of the smokehouse.

"Holy shit, just what the hell happened between those two in only a few hours?"

Lula stopped dead in her tracks at the realization that she'd already known the answer. Her face reddened with anger.

That lousy son-of-a-bitch had fucked her!

Lula's imaginary stomachache suddenly materialized into a reality, accompanied by its friends, "Sir Headache" and the honorable "Lady Nausea." This was too much to bear. In less than 48 hours Daniel had seduced her, dumped her like ballast on a sinking dirigible and screwed a woman he knew Lu despised. She'd need more than an hour to get over this bit of devastating news.

Feeling an urge to burst into tears, Lula burst into a full run instead towards the far side of the pond and her "thinking place." She knew she'd be alone there given that Daniel had apparently abandoned all vestiges of their childhood almost four years ago.

As she approached the majestic live oak tree that cradled their fortress in its branches, the flood of tears came in a torrent. Her vision blurred with stinging moisture as she reached to hug the scratchy bark of her trusted talisman. For a few moments, she sobbed uncontrollably, allowing her despair to be cleansed with salty waters. Reining in her sorrow, she wiped her eyes on the shirttail of her father's old work shirt and started to climb her familiar friend.

The tree that housed her sanctuary was a behemoth. With a diameter of nearly twelve feet at the base, a height of almost fifty feet and a crown spread of at least one hundred feet, the tree was a life unto itself. She'd always marveled at the spread of heavy branches, some of five to six feet in diameter that snaked just above the ground and reached out to the sky as if stretched to embrace an ethereal lover. She and Daniel had built their tree house here, nestled in the safety of the giant's branches.

The structure was a well-built, simple affair — sixty square feet of building with a wooden floor, shingled roof, plywood walls sporting cutout windows and a door-less entry. Access to the fort required dexterity and fearlessness, the rationale being that if you didn't want to sweat to climb the dizzying twenty feet to paradise, you didn't deserve to enjoy the view. Therefore, no ladder was ever built to accommodate easy access. Instead, a would-be visitor would have to negotiate the path up the leviathan's trunk, disregarding the dangerous drop below. Lula had never forgotten this path to serenity.

Once inside the playhouse, a distraught Lula threw herself onto the sturdy plywood floor and began a renewed river of tears before forcing herself back into a calmer state. Breath still hitching from her display of anguish, the distraught woman stared out of the window of her sanctuary and meditated on the serene view of the pond and surrounding countryside. The vista had always taken her breath away. This was the only place she could think clearly, rationally.

Contemplating a new life that she knew could never include Daniel, Lula leaned her head against the back wall of the playhouse and began humming a sorrowful tune she'd picked up as a "party girl." Justine had only been half right. She liked to dance and sing and forget she was just a "colored gal" with flights of fancy.

The friends she partied with didn't expect anything but a good time from her and she was happy to oblige. She danced and sang and, yes, she drank a little too much — but that was all; and singing...oh, how she loved to sing. Especially long slow sad tunes like the one she was humming as she contemplated the sudden turn her young life had taken. Something about singing the blues always made her feel better. And now that her life was changing for the worst, she needed to feel better. Life without her "brother" was going to be lonely, frightening -- different.

As she hummed the melody to her favorite Bessie Smith tune, Lula began to sing:

There ain't nothing I can do, or nothing I can say That folks don't criticize me But I'm goin' to, do just as I want to anyway And don't care if they all despise me

If I should take a notion To jump into the ocean 'T ain't nobody's bizness if I do, do, do do

The defiant lyrics of the tune seemed to lift her spirits. She raised her voice in song and stood to sway to the music her voice created with every ragged breath she took. She closed her eyes, held up her hands and began to move her hips to her own melody as she danced with an imaginary partner.

The song was a salve for her tortured soul, an anthem for her demons. Her voice, strong and sultry, carried over the waters, drifting off into space and exorcising her thoughts. She would be okay; she'd face whatever life would throw at her even if she'd have to chuck a few stones back.

One tune melted into another. She drifted from T'aint Nobody's Business to Gimme A Pigfoot and then plowed into Lady Luck Blues, her body endlessly swaying to a private serenade. Before long, she'd sung, hummed and danced to over two dozen songs; her mind cleared of all unpleasant thoughts. An hour drifted into three before she realized the dusky glow of late midday was warming her skin through the naked open window of her private treetop dance hall.

"Shit...Mamma's gonna kill me," Lula panicked as she hurriedly began climbing down from the fortress.

She grimaced at the thought of the tongue lashing she was sure to receive from both Mother Carven and her mother for lazing around once again and ignoring her chores. She'd promised to straighten up and pull her weight this morning; that promised had only lasted three hours before she was running off to lick her childish wounds. She simply couldn't help being a screw up...she did it so well.

Jumping the last six feet of her decent to the ground, Lula spun around only to slam into a brick wall made of stone-carved flesh and muscle.

"Shit, Jordan! You scared the hell out of me," Lula screamed as she angrily eyed the tall, handsome mahogany man standing in front of her.

He was grinning like a Cheshire cat and eyeing her with mild amusement.

"Lula, child, your mother sent me to come and get you. What the hell are you doing up there singing and dancing like you don't have a care in the world? The whole damn house is looking for you," the young man tried to sound harsh, but he was obviously amused and fascinated by this hellcat — he'd always been intrigued by her.

Lula sighed in irritation and regarding her mother's second-favorite pet with annoyance. Jordan Mason had always held a special place in her mother's heart, right next to Daniel. It was no surprise that the son of the community's most successful negro-owned business never felt the need to announce his visits to the Carven estate what with Caroline constantly cooing over his "strong moral fiber" and good heart. Indeed, he was just about the sweetest guy Lula had ever met.

He'd never raised his voice at Lu or had a discouraging word for her, even when she'd cracked his skull with a baseball bat when they were eight. The assault had no motivation other than to prove that the term "knock wood" didn't literally mean to conk another human being over the head for good luck. Jordan had bled and then forgiven Lula, mainly because he found it impossible to stay mad at the imp.

It was also no secret that he was head over heels in love with the dark beauty. The news that she was probably going to be shipped off to Howard University had been the best news he'd heard in a long time. Although he admittedly would never be as smart as Lula - he had yet to meet anyone who was - his father's money and his own impressive intellect had earned him a spot at the esteemed school the previous year. The thought of having Lu to himself had him walking on air.

The added advantage of Lu going to Howard was that he could keep an eye on her. Jordan had grown weary of worrying about who was looking after Lula when he and Daniel were away. After Daniel had been sent away to school, the job of keeping Lula out of trouble had fallen on Jordan's broad and strong shoulders. For Jordan, following Lula around and escorting her to local watering holes in order to avoid the scandal of her going alone had become a full-time occupation; he'd worried about her when he was away at school.

The six-foot five inch gentle giant had reasoned that although he didn't like Lu's partying, he'd prefer that she do it with him around rather than sneak out by herself and get into trouble. He also realized that her effect on the opposite sex hadn't quite registered with her yet.

The long-legged, brown-skinned beauty turned heads wherever she went and her unpretentious manner drew men to her like flies to honey. To make matters worse, Lula had now taken to singing at these establishments, providing entertainment for her throngs of admirers who frequented the colored gin joints that dotted the countryside, hidden deep in the woods.

Mamma Corning hadn't approved, but both Emma and Jordan had explained to her that holding on to Lu and forbidding her to go out was only going to cause more trouble. Lula had always been a sensible girl, wanting only to celebrate her body-electric -- to sing and dance with the rest of the revelers without partaking of any of the other "sins."

"The child is in good hands, Caroline," Emma had urged one night after a particularly heated exchange between the younger and elder Corning, "Jordan watches her like a hawk. He's a good boy and he's smitten with her. He won't let anything happen to her and won't let her get into any trouble."

Caroline had been unmoved by Emma's pleas, knowing instinctively that Emma was living vicariously through her hell-raiser of a daughter. However, Jordan's sure and well-reasoned rationale and Emma's persistent advocacy for common sense and "letting go" had finally moved the mountain.

In the end, Caroline had agreed to the unthinkable: Lula could go out to some of the less notorious establishments only if accompanied by Jordan. It seemed like a necessary concession given that Lula would soon be "on her own" at school and Caroline would have to learn to trust her daughter. Allowing Lula to go out with Jordan as an escort was a baby-step for the worried mother.

"If anyone can keep watch over Lula and ward off trouble, it's Jordan," Emma had declared as she patted the slightly embarrassed young man's arm, clearly as smitten with the shop-keeper's son as Caroline. There was more than a little bit of truth to her statement. Other than Daniel, the only peer Lula respected and looked up to was Jordan. Everyone looked up to the tall, handsome man if truth be told.