The way she said the wordmyspoke volumes, and I immediately recognized it as the same way Bee and I talked about each other.
“Well, neither of us actuallyknewBernice.”
She narrowed her gaze over the rim of her coffee mug.
“I’m working with the Hope Channel,” I quickly explained. “And I was inspired by a local Christmas Notch legend, so I sold a script based on the story. It was sort of a rash decision. If I’m being honest, most of my decisions are. But anyway, I began to research and it took a while, but I—” I paused, motioning to Isaac. “Well, we stumbled upon Bernice and her story.”
“The angel and the postman,” Doris said knowingly.
“Oh, you know it!” I exclaimed. “Hot dog! That was what we were hoping for.”
“Bernice was something of a celebrity around here. Folks couldn’t decide if it was scandalous or romantic. Of course, it was a little bit of both, which all the best love stories are, and over the years, the edges of it got... softened, I suppose. Turned into the kind of magic people could understand.”
“So is it true?” Isaac asked. “That the angel saved the postman?”
Doris gave Isaac a look. “Angels aren’t real, son. I hope I’m not the one to break the news to you.”
“Alas,” said Isaac.
“We know Bernice married the postman at some point,” I chimed in. “Is that the scandal part?”
“Well, that and the rumors of a torrid affair before her first husband died.” Doris studied us to make sure that we were appropriately enthralled, and then set down her coffee and spread her hands. “Where to begin? I suppose Bernice herselfwould start with her and Ronald’s honeymoon in 1943. They were teenage sweethearts before he got drafted, and just before he was deployed to Europe, he came home from training and made her his wife.”
I glanced over at Isaac, the Teenage Sweetheart expert, who was now staring diligently into his coffee cup, probably to avoid catching my eye.
“You have to know that both Ronald and Bernice had a reputation for being... well, a bit fast. And once they fell in love, they couldn’t keep their hands off each other. Any school dance, any football game, any town fair—well, you’d be sure to stumble upon Bernice and Ronald under the bleachers or behind a booth, their hands in each other’s clothes. And whenever they got caught, Bernice would tell people the country was at war and then ask them if they’d deny a future soldier a little bit of comfort. That always shut them up,” Doris said with a crackly laugh.
Bernice was starting to sound like a legend.
“Ronald, like so many young men, was drafted right out of school, of course. But as I said, he came home and made Bernice his wife the moment he could. He had only a few days for their honeymoon, which is probably why it raised some eyebrows when his best friend came and stayed with them in a small place they’d rented up the mountain. At the time, people saw this as proof that Ronald was marrying Bernice only so she’d have access to his pension in case something happened, and that they weren’t really in love and weren’t really spending the honeymoontogether. Which was hilarious to anyone who’d seen Ronald’s car windows fogged up at any given lookout point. But maybe people had less imagination then, I don’t know.”
“Okay, back up,” Isaac said. His blue eyes were no longer on his coffee, but on Doris’s face. “So you’re saying that Berniceand Ronald did spend their honeymoon together... but Ronald’s best friend was there too.”
His eyes slid to mine, and I knew what we were both remembering. Us tangled in bed with Jack, blowing through a bottle of lube like Armageddon was at hand.
“It probably wouldn’t have been a surprise if anyone had thought about it for more than a minute. James and Ronald had been attached at the hip since they were boys, and that didn’t change after Ronald and Bernice started dating. Any place Ronald and Bernice were, James was tagging along. The only time James couldn’t follow Ronald was when Ronald went into the army, since polio had left James with a bad hand. Couldn’t fire a gun. So the three of them honeymoon together, and then Ronald goes to war. James is hired by the post office. Bernice gets a job at the local shop. Nothing seems strange.”
Isaac had pulled out a fancy-looking notebook from somewhere mysterious in his coat and started to take notes. It was probably better that he was the note-taking one—my handwriting could be charitably categorized asdrunk sorority girland was sometimes hard to read after the fact.
“And then the Christmas Eve blizzard. Awful, awful blizzard. I’m younger than Bernice, as I’m sure you’ve noticed”—Doris gave a quick preening pat of her hair—“but I still remember that storm. We were trapped inside for days and how the windshrieked. Terrified me and my baby sister to no end. And poor James gets stranded on his route, and starts burning mail inside his truck to stay warm. Never letters—he took his postal duties very seriously—but catalogs and magazines and newspapers. But then hedoesget to a letter as he’s burning his way through the mail, addressed from his best friend Ronald. To Ronald’s loving wife... and to James himself.”
Isaac’s hand paused briefly over the page, but then he kept writing.
“They hadn’t heard from Ronald in a few months, and were fearing the worst, but here’s an ember of hope! And James knows he’s only a mile from Ronald and Bernice’s house. He tucks the letter in his coat, bundles himself up, and braves the storm to make it to safety. The thought that Ronald is safe and that Bernice needs to know drives him through the storm. His love for the both of them, and their love for him back.” Doris’s eyes were growing a little misty, and actually, mine too.
“He makes it. It takes hours and he’s half-frozen when he gets there, but he pounds on Bernice’s door and falls inside. She gets him by the fire and changed into some of Ronald’s dry clothes, and together they’re able to share their relief that Ronald is okay. He’s written that he thinks of them both constantly, that he misses them, that he hopes they’re together. That James will take care of Bernice if anything happens to him.”
Oh God. And somethinghadhappened, and poor James and Bernice hadn’t even known.
“They were snowed in until after Christmas, and that’s when the telegram finally came,” Doris said sadly. “Ronald had died in France. Only a couple of weeks after he’d written the letter.”
I could feel my chin quivering. “I hate this.”
Isaac was still bent over the notebook, writing. I got the feeling he was concentrating very hard on the paper so that no one could see his face.
“The rumors began shortly after that,” Doris continued. “Bernice and James were married in the summer of 1945, and a baby came after... not a full nine months after, you understand, only six or so months. Tongues started to wag. Hadn’t people seen James stopping by the Bushey house a little too often while Ronald was at war? Hadn’t James and Bernice always been a little too close, even before Ronald left? With the quick marriage and early baby—well, not hard to spin a tale out of that.”
I sensed abut. “But you don’t think they were having an affair.”
