No Greater Love Part 10

"When will you come back again?" Teddy asked unhappily as a tear trembled in the corner of his eye, and then slid down his cheek.

"Soon ... be good ... don't forget to write ..." His words were interrupted by the whistle of the train as it prepared to pull out. Everything was happening too rapidly as he kissed each of them, and then squeezed Edwina close to him. "Take care ... I'll be alright ... I'll be back soon, Win ... oh, G.o.d ... I'll miss you so...." His voice broke on the words.

"Stay safe," she whispered, "come home soon.... I love you ..." And then, they hurried to the platform as the conductor shouted, "All aboard." She held Teddy close to her, and George stood holding Alexis's and Fannie's hands, as slowly, relentlessly, the train moved out of the station.

Edwina felt a terrible pull at her heart, and prayed that he would come home safely. And then they all waved and he was gone, and as the train sped away, they couldn't see the tears rolling down Phillip's cheeks. He was doing what he knew he had to do ... but G.o.d ... he was going to miss them....

Chapter 21.

IT SEEMED LIKE AN ENDLESS WAIT FOR HIM. HE WROTE TO Edwina and the children occasionally, and by winter, Phillip was in France, at the battle of Cambrai. His unit was fighting with the British there and for a while, they were doing well, better than the nearly half million who had died at the battle of Pa.s.schendaele. But ten days after the battle of Cambrai began, the Germans counterattacked, and the British and Americans lost ground and had to fall back, almost to where they had started.

The loss of men was staggering and as Edwina read accounts of the battles there, her heart would sink, thinking of her brother. He wrote of mud and snow and discomfort everywhere, but he never told them how afraid he was, or how disheartened, watching men die by the thousands day after day, as he prayed that he'd survive it.

In the States, there were the recruitment posters everywhere , showing a stern invitation from Uncle Sam. And in Russia the Czar had fallen that year, and the imperial family was in exile.

"Is George going to be a hero too?" Fannie asked one day just before Thanksgiving, as Edwina trembled at the thought of George following in Phillip's footsteps.

"No, he's not," she answered somberly. It was hard enough worrying about Phillip night and day, and fortunately George had been at Harvard since the fall. He called infrequently, and his rare letters showed that he was happy there, although he talked of none of the things Phillip had when he'd been there. He talked of the people he met, the men he liked, the parties he went to in New York, and the girls he dated constantly. But he also surprised Edwina by saying that he missed California. And he wrote a funny letter raving about the latest movies he'd seen, a new Charlie Chaplin called The Cure, and something with Gloria Swanson called Teddy at the Throttle. His fascination with films lived on, and he had written a long, technical letter about both films, telling how they could have been better. It [made her wonder if he really was serious about going Hollywood one day and making movies. But the world of Hollywood seemed a long, long way from Harvard.

Phillip was still in France with frostbitten fingers and men dying all around him.

Fortunately, Edwina was unaware of it, as they said grace and prayed for him at their Thanksgiving table.

"... and G.o.d bless George, too," Teddy added solemnly. "Who isn't going to be a hero, because my sister Edwina won't let him," he offered by way of explanation, as she smiled at him. At seven, he was still a pudgy, cuddly little elf with a special attachment to her. Edwina was the only mother he remembered.

They spent a quiet day, and sat in the garden after their Thanksgiving meal. It was a warm, pretty day, and Alexis and Fannie sat on the swing, as Teddy kicked a ball from one to the other. It was odd now, with both of the big boys gone, and having only the younger children at home. Edwina suggested that they write to Phillip that night. And she hoped that George would call. He was spending Thanksgiving with friends in Boston.

Everyone was still full when they went to bed, and Edwina was still awake late that night, when she heard the doorbell. She sat up, startled by the noise, and then hurried downstairs before the persistent bell could wake the children.

She was still struggling into her dressing gown as she reached the front door, in bare feet with her hair in braids, and she opened the door cautiously, expecting to see one of George's friends, drunk and looking for him, having forgotten that he'd gone to Harvard.

"Yes?" she said, looking very young in the darkened hall, her face shining in the moonlight.

There was a man she didn't recognize outside, with a telegram in his hand, and she stared at him in surprise. "Is your mother home?" he asked, adding to her confusion.

"I ... no ... I think you mean me." She frowned. "Who is that for?" But a finger of fear was tracing its way around her heart and she found herself short of breath as he read her name loudly and clearly. He handed the telegram to her, and scurried down the stairs like a rat in a bad dream, as she closed the front door and leaned against it for an instant. There could be nothing good in it. Good things did not come in telegrams shortly after midnight.

She walked into the front parlor then, turned on a lamp, and sat down slowly to read it. The envelope tore open easily in her hands, and her eyes raced over it as her breath caught and she felt her heart writhe within her. It couldn't be ... it wasn't possible ... five years before, he had survived the sinking of the t.i.tanic ... and now he was gone ... "regret to inform you that your brother, Private Phillip Bertram Winfield, died with honor on the battlefield today in Cambrai on November 28, 1917. We at the Department of the Army extend our condolences to your entire family ..." and it was signed with a name she had never heard of. A sob tore at her throat as she read it a dozen times, and then stood up silently and turned the light off.

With tears streaming down her cheeks, she walked upstairs, and stood in the hall where he had lived, and they had grown, and knew that he would never come home again ... like the others ... five borrowed years he had lived after them, long enough to grow to be a man, and be killed by German soldiers.

And then, as she stood there, crying silently, holding the hated telegram, she saw a little face peering at her in the dark. It was Alexis. She stood there, staring at her for a long time, knowing something terrible was wrong, but not daring to approach Edwina. And then at last, Edwina saw her there and held out her arms, and instinctively Alexis knew that he was gone, and they stood there in the hall for a long, long time, until at last Edwina dried her eyes, and took Alexis to bed with her, where they lay clinging to each other like two lost children until morning.

Chapter 22.

"h.e.l.lO? ... h.e.l.lO!" EDWINA SHOUTED ACROSS THREE thousand miles. The connection was terrible, but she had to reach George. She had already waited two days for him to get back to Harvard after the Thanksgiving weekend. And finally, at his end, someone answered. "Mr. Winfield, please," she shouted into the phone, and then there was endless staccato again, while someone went to find him. And at last, George was on the line, and for an instant he heard only silence.

"h.e.l.lo!" he shouted back at her, "... h.e.l.lo!... who is this?" He was sure that they had lost the connection, but at last she took a breath and spoke, not sure how to begin. It was hard enough telling him, without having to shout it over the long-distance wires, and yet she hadn't wanted to give him the shock of a telegram, or spend days waiting for a letter to reach him. He had a right to know, just as the others did. The children had cried for days. They were familiar tears to them, tears they had already shed once before, even if they didn't remember.

"George, can you hear me?" Her voice barely reached him.

"Yes!... are you alright?"

The answer was a hard one, and tears filled her eyes before she spoke, as suddenly it seemed a mistake to have called him. "Phillip ..." she began, and before she said another word, he knew, as he felt his blood run cold, and listened to her from Boston. "We got a telegram two days ago," she began to sob, which George knew was unlike her. "He was killed in France ... he ..." suddenly it seemed important to tell him all the details, "... he died honorably ..." And then she couldn't go on. She couldn't say another word, as the children stood on the stairs and watched her.

"I'm coming home," was all he said, as tears rolled down his cheeks. "I'm coming home, Win ..." They were both crying then, and Alexis walked slowly upstairs, all the way to the top floor where she hadn't been in so long. But she needed to go there now, to be alone with her thoughts of her oldest brother.

"George," Edwina tried to go on, "you don't have to do that ... we're ... alright ..." But this time, she was far from convincing.

"I love you ..." He was still crying openly, thinking of Phillip and her, of all of them, and how unfair it was. Edwina had been right. She should never have let him go. He knew that now. Too late. For Phillip. "I'll be home in four days."

"George, don't ..." She feared that they would take a dim view of it at Harvard.

"Good-bye ... wait ... are the little ones alright?" They were, more or less, except Alexis, who seemed very badly shaken. The others were clinging to Edwina for fear that it could mean she might die and leave them.

"They'll do." She took a breath, and tried not to let herself think of Phillip and how he must have died, alone, in the freezing mud. Poor baby ... if only she could have held him.... "See you in four days, then."

She was about to tell him not to come, but he was gone by then, and she slowly set the phone down, and turned to see Fannie and Teddy sitting on the stairs crying softly, just above her. They came to cuddle with her then, and she took them back upstairs to their own rooms, but that night they slept with her, and eventually Alexis came back downstairs and joined them. Edwina had left her alone, knowing where she'd gone, and that she needed to be alone with her memories of Phillip. In some ways, they all did.

They talked about him until late that night, and all the things they loved about him. How tall and distinguished he had been, how kind, how serious about things, how responsible, how loving, and how gentle. There was a long list of attributes that came to mind, and as she thought about him, Edwina realized with a gash of pain again, how terribly she would miss him.

And as they huddled together late into the night, she realized that it was once again like being in the lifeboat, afraid, alone, clinging to each other in stormy waters, wondering if they would all find each other again. Only this time, she knew they wouldn't.

It was a long four days of quiet thoughts, and tears, and silent anger, waiting for George to come home, but when he did, the house came alive again, as he hurried up or down stairs, slammed doors, or rushed into the kitchen. It made Edwina smile just seeing him again, and when he walked through the front door when he arrived, he hurried out to find her in the garden. He strode toward her, pulling her close to him, and they stood together for a long time and cried for their lost brother.

"I'm glad you came," she admitted later on, when the little ones were all tucked into bed upstairs. And then she looked sadly at George. "It's so lonely here without him. It's different suddenly, knowing that he's ... gone ... that he's not coming back. I hate going into his room now." George understood. He had gone in and just sat down and cried that afternoon when he'd gotten home. A part of him had expected Phillip to be there.

"It's so strange, isn't it?" he said. "It's as though he's still alive somewhere out there, and I know that he'll be back someday ... except he won't, Edwina ... will he?"

She shook her head, thinking of him again, and how serious he had been about everything, how responsible, and how he had always helped her with the children. Unlike George, who was always busy putting frogs into people's beds, except that now, she was grateful to see him.

"I used to feel that way about Mama ... and Papa ... and Charles ..." Edwina admitted. "That they would come back one day, but they didn't."

"I guess I was too young to understand that then," he said quietly, getting to know her better now. "It must have been terrible for you, Win ... with Charles and everything." And then, "You've never cared about anyone else, have you? I mean ... after him ..." He knew about Ben liking her, but he also knew that Edwina had never been in love with him. And he didn't think there had been any serious suitors since then.

She smiled and shook her head. "I don't suppose I will love any other man again. Maybe that was enough in one lifetime. Just Charles ..." Her voice drifted off as she thought of him.

"That doesn't seem fair ... you deserve more than that." And then, "Don't you want children of your own someday?"

But at that, she laughed, and wiped the tears that she had shed for her brother off her face, "I think I've had quite enough, thank you very much. Wouldn't you say five is sufficient?"

"That's not the same, though." He was still looking serious and she laughed again.

"I'd say it's close enough. I promised Mama I'd take care of all of you, and I have. But I'm not sure I need more than that. And besides, I'm too old now anyway." But she didn't look as though she regretted it. All she regretted was losing so many people she had loved so much. It made those who were left now even more precious. "When do you have to go back?"

He looked at her for a serious moment before he answered. "I want to talk to you about that ... but not tonight ... maybe tomorrow ..." He knew she'd be upset, but he had made his mind up even before he'd left to come home to California.

"Is something wrong? Are you in trouble, George?" It wouldn't have been a total shock, in George's case, but now she smiled lovingly. He was still such a boy, and so full of life, no matter how serious he appeared. But he was shaking his head, looking faintly insulted.

"No, I'm not in trouble, Win. But I'm not going back either."

"What?" She looked shocked. All the men in her family had graduated from Harvard. For three generations. And after George did, one day Teddy would go, and one day, their children.

"I'm not going back." He had made his mind up, just as Phillip had when he went to war, and Edwina sensed it.

"Why?"

"Because I belong here now. And to be honest with you, I never did belong there. I had a good time, but it's not what I want, Win. I want something very different. I want the real world ... something new and exciting and alive ... I don't want Greek essays and mythological translations. That was fine for Phillip ... but it just isn't for me. It never was. I want something else. I'd rather go to work out here." The suggestion shocked his sister, but she already knew it would be pointless to try and dissuade him. Perhaps if she let him be, one day he'd go back of his own choice and finish. She hated to think of him not getting his diploma. Even Phillip had planned to go back and finish.

They talked about it for several days, and eventually she discussed it with Ben, and two weeks later, George began an apprenticeship at their father's paper. She had to admit that maybe for him, it made more sense, and with Phillip gone, now there would be no one else to run the paper. George was a long way from being there, but perhaps after a year or two, he would have learned enough to try his hand at it. G.o.d knew, there was no one else to.

And she smiled to herself as she watched him leave for the paper every morning. He looked like a child, pretending to be his father. First, he would fall out of bed, invariably late, and with his coat and tie askew, he would eventually appear at the breakfast table, just in time to tease and distract the children. Then, after spilling three gla.s.ses of milk, and feeding his oatmeal to the cat, he would grab two pieces of fruit, and fly out the door, telling her that he'd call her at lunchtime. He called her religiously every day, but usually to tell her a joke, and ask if she minded if he went out to dinner, which, of course, she didn't.

George's romances were legendary all over town, and as soon as people knew he was back, invitations poured in for him almost daily. The Crockers, the de Youngs, the Spreckleses, everyone wanted him, just as they had always wanted Edwina, but a lot of the time, she preferred to stay home now. She went out occasionally with him, and he made a very handsome escort, but Edwina no longer thrived on going to parties. But George enjoyed it all thoroughly, much more than he enjoyed his apprenticeship at the paper.

She forced him to go to monthly meetings with her for several months, but then she discovered that he was out every afternoon, and careful investigation told her that he was sneaking out to go to the movies.

"For G.o.d's sake, George, be serious. This business is going to be yours one day," she scolded in June, and he apologized, but the following month it was the same thing, and she had to threaten to cancel his salary if he didn't stick around and earn it.

"Edwina, I can't help it. It's not me. And everybody bows and sc.r.a.pes, and calls me Mr. Winfield, and I don't know anything about all this. I keep looking over my shoulder, thinking they must mean Papa."

"So, learn it, dammit. I would, in your shoes!" She was furious with him, but he was tired of being pushed, and he said so.

"Why the h.e.l.l don't you run the paper yourself, then? You run everything else, the house, the children, you'd run me if you could, just the way you used to run Phillip!" She had slapped him then, and he was aghast at what he'd said. He had apologized profusely but he had cut her to the quick and he knew it. "Edwina, I'm sorry ... I didn't know what I was saying...."

"Is that what you think of me, George? You think I run everything? Is that what it looks like to you?" There had been tears running down her face by then. "Well, just exactly what did you think I should do when Mama and Papa died? Give up? Let all of you run wild? Who did you think was going to keep it all together for us? Aunt Liz? Uncle Rupert? You, maybe while you were busy putting frogs in everyone's bed? Who else was there, for heaven's sake? Papa was gone, he had no choice." She was sobbing by then and something she had held back for years was about to escape her. "And Mama chose to go with him ... they wouldn't let him or Phillip in the boats because they were men ... you were the last little boy to get in a lifeboat that night because the officer in charge wouldn't let boys or men on ... so Papa had to stay ... but Mama wanted to stay with him. Phillip said she wouldn't get in the last lifeboat that left. She wanted to die with Papa." It was something that had torn at her for five years. Why had Kate wanted to die with their father? "So who was left, George? Who was there? There was me ... and you, and you were only twelve years old ... and Phillip, and he was only sixteen ... that left me. And if you don't like the way I've done it, then I'm sorry." She turned away from him then, with tears running down her cheeks in the room that had once been her father's office.

"I'm sorry, Win ... " He was horrified at what he'd done. "I love you ... and you've been wonderful ... I was just upset because this isn't me ... I can't help it. I'm sorry ... I'm not Papa ... or Phillip ... or you ... I'm me ... and this isn't." There were tears in his eyes now too, because he felt he'd failed her. "I just can't be like them. Harvard doesn't mean anything to me, Win. And I don't understand anything about this paper. I'm not sure I ever will ..." He started to cry, and turned back to look at her. "I'm so sorry."

"What do you want then?" she asked gently. She loved him as he was, and she had to respect him for what he was, and what he wasn't.

"I want what I've always wanted, Win. I want to go to Hollywood and make movies." He was not yet nineteen and the thought of his going to Hollywood to make films seemed ridiculous to Edwina.

"How would you do that?"

His eyes lit up and danced at the question. "I have a friend from school whose uncle runs a studio, and he said that if I ever wanted to, I should call him."

"George," she said with a sigh, "those are pipe dreams."

"How do you know? How do you know I wouldn't turn out to be a brilliant producer?" They both laughed through their tears and a part of her wanted to indulge him, but a more serious side of her told her she was crazy. "Edwina." He looked at her pleadingly. "Will you let me try?"

"And if I say no?" She looked at him soberly, but the disappointment on his face touched her deeply.

"Then I'll stay here and behave. But I promise, if you let me go, I'll come home and check on you every weekend."

She laughed at the thought. "What would I do with the women you'd drag along behind you?"

"We'll leave them in the garden." He grinned. "Well, will you let me try it?"

"I might," she said slowly, and then looked at him sadly. "And then what do I do with Papa's paper?"

"I don't know." He looked at her honestly. "I don't think I could ever run it." It had been a headache to her for a long time, and one day soon, with no one strong enough to run it, it was either going to die quietly, or start costing them a great deal of money.

"I suppose I should sell it. Phillip was the one who really wanted to try his hand at this." And G.o.d only knew what Teddy would do one day, he was only eight years old, and she couldn't hold on to it forever.

George looked at her with regret. "I'm not Phillip, Win."

"I know." She smiled. "But I love you just as you are."

"Does that mean ..." He didn't dare ask, but she laughed as she nodded and put her arms around his neck and hugged him.

"Yes, you wretch, go ... desert me." She was teasing him. He had come home to her when she needed him, seven months before when Phillip died, but she knew he would never be happy languishing at their father's paper. And who knew? Maybe one day he'd be good at making movies. "Who is this man, by the way, your friend's uncle? Is he any good? Is he respectable?"

"The best." He told her a name she'd never heard of, and they walked out of her father's office hand in hand. She still had a lot to think about, a lot to decide, but George's fate was sealed. He was off to Hollywood. And it sounded more than a little mad to Edwina.

Chapter 23.

GEORGE LEFT FOR HOLLYWOOD IN JULY, RIGHT AFTER THEIR annual trip to Lake Tahoe. They still went to the same camp they had gone to for years, borrowed from old friends of their parents', and Edwina and the children still loved it. It was a place to relax, and go for long walks, and swim, and George was still the master at catching crayfish. And this year, it was especially nice for them to be together, before he left on his Hollywood adventure.

They talked about Phillip a lot when they were there, and Edwina spent a lot of time trying to decide what she was going to do with the paper. She had already made her mind up to sell it, but the question was when.

And when they went back to San Francisco, she asked Ben to offer it to the de Youngs, two days after George had left for Los Angeles. The house still seemed to be in an uproar after he left, and his friends were still calling night and day. It was difficult to think of him having a serious career anywhere, but maybe Hollywood was the place for him if the stories one read were true, which Edwina doubted. There were always tales of mad movie stars draped in white fox, driving fabulous cars, and going to wild parties. He still seemed a little young for all that, but she trusted him, and she had decided that it was better for him to get it out of his system, and either make a success of it or forget it forever.

"Do you suppose I should wait before I sell the paper, Ben? What if he changes his mind and the paper's gone by then?" She was worried about it, but the truth was that the paper had been sliding downhill badly recently, along with its profits. It just couldn't survive anymore without her father, and George was far too young and too uninterested to take over.