Searching for Pemberley (46 page)

His enthusiasm was infectious. Was this what he needed—a challenging but interesting job? It just might be.

“I have a second interview on January 24th. What I'm thinking is that the regional airlines are going to be popping up
all over the country. Once I get a few years under my belt, it's possible I could end up flying for an airline in California. How about Phoenix to Los Angeles? And then we could spend some time up in the High Country in Flagstaff.”

What did he mean when he said that “we” could spend some time in the High Country? Where was this Rob McAllister when we were together in England?

I was wondering what my grandfather's reaction would be when he heard Rob's last name. He'd want to know if Rob was one of the “teeving Scots who stole all the land in the north of Ireland from the Irish.” But after Rob explained that he was mostly German with some Swedish and Scots-Irish thrown into the mix, Grandpa had nothing more to say. It was obvious he was suffering from a case of the “dwindles,” and no longer had the energy to argue. Most of his time was spent sleeping in a chair near the stove or in his room.

Once the dishes were washed and dried, Rob, Sadie, and I walked down to Bobby's station where Marty Walsh, Eddie Sullivan, and Joe Mahady were drinking Cokes. The war had been the defining moment in their lives, and more than three years after VJ Day, it was still a frequent topic of conversation. After they had learned that Rob had been a navigator on a B-17, Eddie started in right away.

“You got yourself a flyboy, Maggie,” Eddie said. “Cruising up in the clouds while us dopes in the infantry were down in the mud digging foxholes.”

Not to be outdone, Marty complained that the Army and the Air Corps had gotten all the glory when it was the Navy and Marines who had beaten the Japs in the Pacific with very little help from the other services. Rob hated this kind of talk. He
called them “pissing contests,” like little boys who lined up to see whose stream could reach the farthest.

“You're both right. Flying in a B-17 meant taking off in the morning, dropping my load, and coming home to some pretty decent grub and the same bed every night. I always admired the guys in the infantry and armor, and I can tell you, I never even gave the Navy a thought. At least if I had to bail out, I'd hit land.”

This seemed to appease Army and Navy, and Rob closed the deal when he offered to buy a round at Judge's. This was the bar where my father had once done most of his drinking, but since the war, the usual crowd was largely made up of friends of mine. The beer mug had been passed to a new generation.

After what seemed like hours, Bobby, Sadie, Rob, and I managed to break loose from the “How I Won the War” group and crossed the street to Bobby's house. Sitting in his front parlor, Bobby told Rob that he had been a pilot on a B-26 Marauder, a medium bomber.

“A plane a day in Tampa Bay,” Rob said. “I was glad when they assigned me to the Fortresses.”

Bobby slapped his knee. “I was in on those early training flights. I nearly parked one in the bay myself.”

Both Rob and Bobby had more than their share of close calls, and because of that, they changed the topic to the Chicago Bears versus the New York Giants. Sadie rolled her eyes and indicated she was leaving. I caught up with her and asked what she thought of Rob.

“Marry him,” she said, walking quickly in the cold. “He's handsome, intelligent, and he doesn't live here. He's perfect for you.”

I was wondering if Sadie was being facetious when she said: “If you'd give him a chance, you'd probably fall in love with him
all over again. If you don't, you'll go back to England, and the only time I'll ever see you is when someone dies.”

Sadie was starting to cry—something she rarely did. “I don't think you should go back to England. Forget about that other guy.”

Rob's visit with the Monaghan family had gone so well that he had been invited back to attend Pat's sister's wedding. Before leaving for the airfield to catch a flight to Omaha, Rob and I went to a nice restaurant near the train station. While waiting for our meals to be served, Rob held my hand the entire time.

“Maggie, I feel I'm finally on the right road. It took much longer than it should have. After Omaha and my interview in Atlanta, I want to come back here. I think it's time that we started planning our future together.” He took both of my hands in his and kissed them, which was exactly what Michael had done when he had asked me to come back to him. Rob noticed the change and asked if something was wrong.

“No. Nothing's wrong.”

“What do you say? Can I come back?”

“I'd be very hurt if you didn't.”

A FEW DAYS AFTER arriving in Omaha, Rob called to say the city had been slammed with a major snowstorm, and there were no flights out. He mentioned he had a chance to talk to Mr. Monaghan, but he would share that with me when he was back in Minooka in a week. A week? How much snow did Omaha get?

To pick up some extra money, Sadie had arranged for me to work as a temp in her office in downtown Scranton. The job involved phones and typing and little else, which was why the pay was so bad, but I needed money so that I could pay my mother for my room and board.

I was now into my fourth week of leave, and neither of my parents was asking what my plans were. No comments had been made as to how long my visit would last, nor had they asked if Rob had left for good. Apparently, if no one talked about my returning to England or possibly marrying a Protestant, neither of those things would happen. Who knew what was going to happen? I certainly didn't.

It was one of my life's greatest ironies that Patrick was the person who helped me to make my decision. From the moment my brother had picked me up at the station, the two of us had assumed our pre-war roles. He made asinine remarks, and instead of ignoring him, I almost always overreacted. It wasn't until Bobby told me that Patrick had a secret girlfriend, Anna Sokoloski, that I finally had something to hold over his head. The next time he started in on me, I told him I knew about Anna.

“Patrick, I could threaten to tell all your friends about your girlfriend, but I don't want to. In fact, I'd like to meet Anna.” I wanted to meet the girl who could overlook my brother's goofiness.

“No one's going to meet her,” he said in an angry voice. “She's Polish, and I'm not going to have her be the butt of Polish jokes.”

“Are you in love with her?”

“What's it to you?” He was in full defensive mode.

“What's it to me? If you're serious about Anna, she may end up being my sister-in-law, and I think it's unfair of you to keep her under wraps because of your jerky friends.”

“You're not going to tell anyone?”

“No. But in return, I want you to show me some respect. I want the two of us to have an adult relationship, and that means you have to grow up.”

The conversation immediately bore fruit, so much in fact, that Patrick took me to the tire store where Anna worked so I could meet her. There are two types of Poles: long, lean, and blue-eyed, like Leo, and short, broad, and dark-haired. Anna was the latter and very pretty. She was as short as me, with brown
curly hair and gorgeous blue eyes that were almost Oriental, and she had a killer smile. She was also able to lift tires.

We had a nice lunch together at a nearby diner, and Patrick surprised me by the way he acted around her. He held open the door, put his arm around her in the booth, and spoke to her as one adult to another. They looked at each other in a way that left me with no doubt that my brother and Anna had fallen in love, and I suggested that he introduce her to the family.

“That Polish/Irish stuff is a lot of bull, Patrick. She'll get less resistance from Mom than Rob did because she's a Catholic. Invite her to dinner.”

At Sunday dinner, Anna received a warm welcome. My father and Sadie didn't seem to care that she was Polish, my grandfather totally ignored her, and my mother was relieved that Patrick had finally found someone to date. After she left, everyone congratulated my brother on finding such a nice girl.

The next day, Patrick asked me to meet him for lunch downtown. Sliding into the diner booth, Patrick immediately got to the point. “Listen, I appreciate how nice you were to Anna, so I'm going to return the favor. You should break up with your flyer.”

If this was just another case of Patrick being a jerk, I was going to haul off and punch him, like Sadie did.

“I'm being serious here, Maggie. Because of Anna, I'm seeing things different. You know how, before the war, a bunch of us would go to Avoca for barbecue. No one was dating anyone; we were all just hanging out and putting coins in the jukebox and dancing. That's what you and Rob remind me of—two people hanging out together. Don't get me wrong. I like the guy. But I don't want you to end up with some guy just because he's
good-looking and has some dough in his pocket. I want you to be head over heels in love. So I'm telling you straight up; Rob ain't the one.”

Rob got off the train with a bounce in his step. After giving me a chaste kiss because there was a group of nuns in the station, he asked if there was someplace we could go to talk. We drove to my Aunt Marie's house, which would shortly be J.J.'s house. The kitchen was cold because the morning fire had died down. After stoking the coals, I put a kettle on the burner and asked Rob what he was so eager to talk about.

“Maggie, is there a wedding in our future?”

Rob had said we were going to make plans, but I didn't think he meant that we would start the discussion within minutes of his arrival. After my conversation with Patrick, I had thought long and hard about whether I wanted to spend the rest of my life with Rob. After seeing him following a three-month absence, I was flooded with fond memories of our time together in England, and I was very touched by his efforts to win me back since coming to Minooka. After a long silence, I finally answered, “Rob, I can't.”

“That's what I thought you'd say. I think I knew it from the night of the ball at Montclair.”

After taking the coffee cup out of my hand, he continued, “I drank way too much that night, and when nature called, I went into the bushes. When I came out, guess who was waiting for me? Eva Greene. And she starts making out with me. It was like I had landed on fly paper. When I finally broke free, I heard the band leader announce that there was one more dance. I wanted it to
be with you, but by the time I got into the ballroom, you were dancing with Michael.”

“Rob, I looked for you, but I couldn't find you.” That was the absolute truth. Michael had been paying a lot of attention to me, but I thought the last dance should be with Rob, if for no other reason than common courtesy—"you danced with the one who brung you.”

“I know,” he said, nodding his head. “But because of Eva, I got there too late. It gave me a chance to watch the two of you together. From that time on, I was pretty sure it was never going to happen for me and you. But then you threw me a curve when you came back to the States.

“In the few days we've been together, I thought maybe—just maybe—there was still a chance to save this thing. I thought if I told you about my plans you'd see I was ready to make a commitment. You were really happy for me, but you weren't happy for us. Like you said in the Crowells' backyard, that's because there is no 'us.'

“It wasn't until I got to Omaha that I put it all together. If I'm wrong here, tell me right now.” He looked at me so intently, but I could not say what he wanted to hear. “I didn't think so; I can see it in your face. So now I have something to tell you.

“Going to Omaha was the best thing I could have done. I only wish I had gone three years ago. Everyone from Pat's family wanted to meet me, so they reserved the Knights of Columbus hall. When I saw Pat's photo on one of the tables, I almost bailed, but then I realized that most people were in small groups, laughing and telling stories. The Monaghans were having a party for Pat.

“The next day, Mr. Monaghan told me how excited Pat had been when he found out he was going to flight school. 'When the
Army told Pat his scores were high enough to get into the Air Corps, he was on Cloud Nine. It was the proudest day of his life when they pinned those wings on him. He said it meant that he would never have to work in a meat-packing plant again.'