Chapter 4 The Homecoming

Paul watched through the windshield as the bus descended Sunset Hill and the buildings of Spokane came into view. Late afternoon summer solstice sunshine bathed the scene. They pulled into the depot, and he stepped down into the arms of his waiting sister. The two hugged unashamedly, something they had not done since they were children. Paul spotted his father over his sister’s shoulder. The two men shook hands around the clinging girl. “You’re looking mighty fine there, soldier,” Sam Harper beamed with uncommon emotion.

“Thanks, Dad. You’re looking pretty fit yourself. Here, here, Sis, easy does it. People will talk,” Paul said with a grin as he pried Barbara Harper’s arms from around his neck.

“I don’t care if they do. I’m just happy you’re home alive and safe.” Barbara gave him a big kiss, leaving red lipstick marks on his cheek as she reluctantly let go.

Paul gathered his gear from the baggage handler and shouldered his duffel bag. Sam grabbed Paul’s ditty bag and led the way across the parking lot to a shiny new Ford sedan parked off by itself. He opened the trunk and set the ditty bag on one side. Paul dumped his duffel bag next to it. “Nice car, Dad,” he exclaimed.

“Yeah, it’s brand new. We just got it about a month ago. Willie put us on the waiting list a while back, and our name finally bubbled up to the top, I guess. It drives real nice. I parked it away from the other cars so it won’t get dented. She’s been a long time coming. Here, you give her a test drive, see what you think.” Sam proffered a key ring to his son.

Paul pushed the hand holding the keys aside. “Nah, you drive. I haven’t had much practice lately. Wouldn’t want to wreck your new ride.”

Sam pressed the keys into Paul’s extended hand and used his other hand to close it around them. He held his son’s fist in both his work-hardened hands and looked straight into his eyes. “Welcome home, Son,” he said evenly. He broke the spell with a warm Sam Harper smile and released the hand. “Now this is your Old Man speaking, and if I say you drive, war hero or not, you’ll by God drive. Now get in there and take us home before your Ma has a conniption fit from waiting.”

“Okay, okay,” Paul relented. He opened the driver’s door and crawled behind the steering wheel. His sister took the back seat, and his father took the passenger side. After a moment of orientation, Paul inserted the key and stepped on the starter. The V-Eight engine roared to life, idled back, and purred contentedly. He stepped on the clutch, shifted into low, and eased out of the parking lot.

Neither Paul nor his passengers were surprised at how he threaded through downtown traffic onto Trent Avenue. Shortly after passing Millwood, his father waved his arm out the window at the large industrial complex that had grown up on the south side of the highway. “There she is, the old salt mine,” he announced. “It was just getting started when you left for the war. Look at her now.”

“Mom wrote and said that you’d went to work at Trentwood. I didn’t know what she meant by that. I never knew there was anything around Trentwood worth working for. What’s that all about?” Paul asked.

“Well, it’s kind of a long story, but here’s the shorter version. You remember that when you left in ‘42, I was still working on the Grand Coulee Dam. Only problem was that the project was finishing up, and work was getting pretty scarce. About that time, the government decided to build an aluminum plant over where you see it now. I hired on and worked construction there all the time the plant was going up. Then, when it went into operation, I got on with Alcoa and have been working there ever since. It’s been real nice working close to home and not having to chase construction jobs from here to hell and gone,” Sam explained.

“Yeah, but I hear that they’re going to shut the whole thing down now that the war is over,” Barbara added from the back seat.

“That’s the rumor. But there’s a new rumor going around the plant these days. It seems that Henry Kaiser might be about to take over and keep it running. If that happens, I should be able to stay on. I had a good enough record with old Henry J over at the Grand Coulee,” Sam continued.

“Yes, but Dad, what are they going to do with all of that aluminum with no war going on?” Barbara asked.

“That I don’t know. But I’ll tell you for sure, if there’s anybody around who can figure it out, it’d sure as hell be Henry J. Everything that man touches turns to gold,” Sam concluded.

They had reached the side road that led to the Harper place in Otis Orchards. Paul slowed and swung the car off the pavement onto the country lane he had known since childhood. The sound of gravel crunching under the car’s tires awakened a forgotten memory. Afternoon sunshine glistened off fresh leaves in trees lining the lane. Green grass filled the ditches alongside the road. Cattle, sheep, and horses grazed contentedly in pastures lush with spring growth. A farmer waved from the seat of a mowing machine drawn by a team of thick-bodied draft horses. The smell of new-mown hay filled the air. A brown Jersey cow stood mooing at a barn door, waiting for her afternoon milking. Paul felt an eerie sense of de ja vu. The sights, smells, and sounds surrounding him were just as he had left them four years and an eternity of experiences before. Nothing had changed. He was home at last.

Sam and Barbara remained silent as they watched Paul drink it all in. An almost magic spell hung over the shiny new Ford as it turned into the lane leading up to the Harper family home. Two-spotted Pointers rushed toward the car, their undocked tails wagging high in the air. Martha Harper stood at the bottom of the steps leading into the house. She clutched the railing tightly, resisting the urge to follow the dogs. As soon as the car stopped, she wrenched the car door open and gathered her son hungrily in her arms. She was crying, laughing, and smothering him with kisses all at the same time. Paul did not resist but hugged her tightly in return. He was home, safe at last.

Martha regained her composure and backed out of the car. She wiped her eyes with the corner of her apron as she dragged Paul from the car with her other hand. “Come on, stand up. Let me get a good look at you,” she urged.

Paul crawled out from under the steering wheel and stood. “My, how handsome you are in your uniform. Stay right there. I’m going to get a picture,” Martha turned and ran up the stairs into the house.

“She better make it quick, because this uniform is coming off for good in about two minutes,” Paul kneeled and roughed the hair of the bouncing dogs.

Martha reappeared, Kodak Brownie camera in hand. She snapped a picture of Paul standing next to the new car, then one of Paul with his dad and his sister. She handed the camera to Barbara, who dutifully took pictures of Paul with his mother and Paul with both parents.

With the picture-taking complete, Sam opened the car trunk, and the two men retrieved Paul’s gear. Martha led the way into the house. The aroma of frying chicken greeted Paul as he dumped his duffel bag in the foyer and roamed back into his favorite room—the kitchen. “Of all the things I’ve missed, I reckon this is what I’ve missed the most,” he announced.

“What’s that?” his mother questioned from the doorway.

“This,” he said as he lifted the lid from the frying pan warming on the stove. He grabbed a drumstick and took a big bite. “Um, um good,” he closed his eyes and sighed.

Sam walked across the room to a sparkling white refrigerator standing where the old brown icebox had stood when Paul left home. “How about a beer?” he asked as he opened the door.

“Sounds good to me,” Paul responded, followed by Martha’s “Me too, please,” and Barbara’s “Me three, let’s celebrate.”

Sam pulled four Olympia stubby bottles from the refrigerator and placed them on the counter. He lifted an opener from its nail above the counter and pried the cap from each bottle. He handed the bottles around and lifted his own. “Here’s to family,” he announced. They all clinked their bottles, took a sip, and sat at the kitchen table.

Sam pulled a pack of Camels out of his shirt pocket and lit up. Paul followed suit with Lucky Strikes. Barbara reached over, snatched the cigarette pack out of Paul’s hand, extracted a cigarette, and held it up between two fingers. Paul obediently lit it for her. Martha frowned at her daughter’s smoking but said nothing.

Paul took a long pull from his beer. “Um, boy, that’s good and cold. You got a new refrigerator there, I see. New car, new refrigerator; what else is new around here?”

“Not a whole lot. You couldn’t buy much of anything, even if you had the money during the war. If it wasn’t rationed, it just wasn’t available. Even now, you have to get on a list for just about anything you want. Your Mama’s got a new electric stove coming any day now. The only thing is, it ain’t going to do her much good unless we can get an electrician out here to put in the wiring for it. They say it takes two-twenty to run a stove, and we only got one-ten. Problem is that everybody and his brother wants to do the same thing at the same time. The electric shops don’t have enough people to keep up, and can’t get enough parts to do the job, even if they have the people. It’s a hell of a mess, but I reckon it’ll all even out when we all run out of war money. Then maybe we can get back to normal like the good old days when the Depression was on, and nobody had any money,” Sam stated with a hollow laugh.

“Well, anyway, things look a lot more prosperous around here than I remember. The job over at Trentwood must be treating you pretty good,” Paul observed.

“It’s hard and dirty work, but it’s steady, and the pay is good. The money was good enough on the Grand Coulee Dam, but it was tough living over there in a cockroach-infested barracks and only getting home weekends if at all. It’s nice working close to home. That’s why I hope Kaiser can come in and keep things going,” Sam replied.

“How about you, Sis, what are you up to these days?” Paul asked.

“Oh, I finally got through business school, and Uncle Johnny put me to work in his office. It’s kind of boring posting journals and ledgers all day long, but it sure beats my old job waiting tables down at the diner. At least I don’t have to put up with a bunch of idiots telling dumb jokes and trying to play grab ass all the time,” Barbara answered. “How about you? What are your plans, Brother? I hear you guys can go back to school on the GI Bill if you want to. Are you thinking of something like that?”

“Hell, I don’t know. Right now, I just want to shed this monkey suit and get into some decent clothes. I do know that I’ve seen all the Army green I want to see for the rest of my life,” Paul said with a grin.

“Your room is all set just as you left it, only neater. Your clothes are in the closet and the dresser just like always. I hope everything still fits you,” Martha volunteered.

“It should. I gained weight going through boot camp before we went overseas. After that, though, real meals got to be kind of few and far between. Then there’s this damned malaria bug I keep fighting. I think I’m probably skinnier now than I was when I left,” Paul answered.

“We’ll work on fattening you up now that you’re home. Dinner will be ready whenever you are. By the way, Willie called earlier and wanted you to give him a call,” his mother responded.

“Okay, I’ll call him later. Funny thing, I met a guy on the bus coming over the hill today who knows Willie. The guy works down at Paulsen’s Photography,” Paul said as he rose to leave the room.

“That’s not surprising. Willie’s quite the popular man about town these days. Everybody knows Willie Womack,” Martha called out as Paul disappeared down the hall.

***

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