“Your mailbox. I stopped by on my way here. I put the rest of your mail on the kitchen table but thought you might want this one.”
“You mean you wanted to know what’s inside.”
There were two letters inside. One was from a Mrs. Mary Lou Brodbeck. And one from ... Leroy.
The thin, soiled envelope had yellowed with time. Yet somehow, when Tuesday’s trembling fingers brought it to her nose, she could have sworn it bore the fragrance of his cologne and hair tonic.
“Ma, what is it?”
“It’s from your pa.” She passed over Mrs. Brodbeck’s letter. “Here, read this. I’m shaking.”
Dear Mrs. Knight,
I can only imagine your surprise to find a letter from your husband more than twenty years after he wrote it. Apparently, he’d given it to my husband, who stored it with his things. They were together in Normandy, and after the war, Julius didn’t talk much about D-Day or any of it, only that he’d fought alongside some of the best men on earth.
Julius recently passed, and I found this letter to you from your husband among his things. No matter how delayed, I pray you will find it a comfort. I know I would.
Yours sincerely,
Mary Lou
Dupree lowered the letter. “A lot of the fellas wrote home before a big offensive. Even me. But thankfully, you never had to read it.”
All these years, she’d longed for a final word from Leroy, but when the military returned his things, almost no personal effects were included. Dupree surmised they’d been lost along the way. Typical army. Leroy was buried in Normandy with his brothers-in-arms.
Butthis. . . this letter finally brought him home.
“You read it.” She offered Dup the letter, then pulled back. “No, I will.” Tears filled every part of her as she unfolded the army-issued stationery.
My darling Tooz,
Slowly, she lowered the letter and slipped it back into the envelope.
“Ma, don’t you want to read it?” Dupree pointed to the door. “I’ll step out if you want.”
“You know, I think I’ll save it for later.” She stood, tucking the letter into her pocket. “What’s another couple of hours when it’s been twenty-three years? Now, I should make my rounds, make sure we’re shipshape.”
Dupree pulled her close as she passed. “You deserved better from him, Ma. But I’ve reckoned with my anger toward him over the years. He loved us. He sure as heck loved you.”
“Don’t feel sorry for me, Dupree. I’ve had such a life.” She rested against his thick chest that held the heart of a loving, kind man. “A man who loved me, two swell boys, the prince, and the Starlight. Still the best part?” She leaned back to see her son’s face. “Immanuel, Dupree. Life and the devil tried to take me down, but Immanuel raised me up. What’s better than knowing a prince, I ask you? Knowing a God who knows me.”
Her son rested his cheek on her head. “You’re the strongest person I know, Ma. Matty and I ... Where would we be without you?”
For a moment, when Dupree smiled down on her, it was Leroy, and Tuesday Knight had zero regrets.
She made her rounds as the last session ended, locked up the money bag in the safe, then found Spike closing up concession. When she was alone, Tuesday tied on her skates and cued up Jim Reeves on the hi-fi. His melodic voice echoed through the empty rink. “I come to the garden alone.”
Except she wasn’t really alone. Immanuel was with her. And tonight, so was Leroy.
When the song finished, Tuesday sat in the middle of the quiet rink and read the letter.
June 4, 1944
My darling Tooz,
I’m writing to you with a dull pencil on a piece of paper I borrowed from Lt. Durban. We’ve been in the thick of it,but I’m fine. I told you I’m too ornery to die. I survived the Great War and being a thug for the mob, so the Huns don’t scare me.
I miss you more than ever. When I was running all over God’s creation before this mess, I knew I could get to you anytime I wanted. I don’t have that luxury now, and I regret every moment I was away.
