A little over two years now, she'd know because she counted the days. The greatest blessings were the few letters she got indicating that he was still alive, at least when the letter was written. But then every day, for a long time, she dreaded a visit by the army, or a more impersonal letter from them, bearing the worst news.
They met a while back at a dance hall. Yes, it's like in a movie, but really, where else would a teenage girl meet a teenage boy when both are such shy people in a rural town in Connecticut? That's what she tells her grand daughter now. She gives the teenager the ginger tea with a teaspoon of the honey from her apiary, the one she had started while he was away fighting in the Pacific. She tells the curious teenager the story because finally the young lady asked why she keeps bees.
"Because your grandpa loves honey," she said.
"So you were hoping one day when he did return safe and sound you would have honey for him? That's so sweet!" said the much younger version of her.
She smiles but doesn't answer. She was busy that year, helping with the war effort while the men were out and about killing and being killed. She resumed her story, saying that they had met at that lovely dance, the last one in high school. She had always noticed him, and apparently he did too, but all those years they did little more than say "hi" to each other. There was something about the finality of high school that added anxiety to their hearts. The slow dance came on and he, shaking, asked her for the dance. They were both shaking. "And you can't dance when you're both shakin'," she says to the curious young lady. "Then I said to Robert, 'Ain't you nervous?'" And he looked at me just real surprised and said, 'Why, yes, Ma'am'" She pauses for a smile and then said, "'Well, I'm just about shaking out of my booties. You wanna just go out an' chat?'"
So they chatted outside. It was a cool summer night. Music was still blasting and other teenagers were all running around, giggling, or just fooling around. But that was the night they said they wanted to be together. Neither one of them were going to college, expensive and not so necessary for them or their families. He was just going to continue working on his dad's farm, and she was just going to see what happened. But she was hungry for knowledge. She read a lot, a lot more than some of her colleagues who had wealthy enough parents to send them to college. For her, as long as she could have access to books, the world was fine. And now, something else happened. Her heart opened up and it was a strange and exciting feeling.
"His parents were all right with me, and Father thought he was OK because his family had land. But both families were really strict and we were followed and watched every moment. But then one day we concocted a plan. Father and Mother knew that I was reading about bees and apiaries. So I told them I wanted to go visit Casey's apiary down the road and maybe learn to start something new. They knew Casey, a good neighbor and old friend of theirs. For them, I was in good hands. And I did go to Casey's but Casey's is an old man who didn't know anything about me and Robert. I went down there, stood with Casey for a while to learn how he handles stuff. Asked him to explain everything while I was looking out for signs of Robert. He showed up behind the big cypress tree exactly when we said we would meet. Then I told old Casey that I was hungry and if I could help him prepare lunch. He of course said he would do it all by himself. Asked what I wanted so I told him something really complicated and hard to make, and of course, still offering to help. He brushed my offer of help aside and told me to just hang out in the apiary where it was cooler. As soon as he left, Robert came in."
She stops at this point and looks at her grand daughter, who was smiling, though sick. "So you guys made out?" she asks.
"Well, it was dangerous and exciting for us...." she pauses.
"Then Robert wasn't too careful.... Or we weren't."
Seeing her grand daughter understood, she continues, "When Robert found out that I was pregnant with your Mother, he cried, but then, accepting his role as a man, he said he would marry me.
"Both families were surprised at the marriage proposal, though neither one knew the real motivation. They weren't too happy, seeing that we were still too young and were together for only a few months."
She pauses and lets a storm of emotion pass by before continuing, hiding it with her gentle smile. She then says,"I figured as long as I had Robert by my side, everything would be OK. I was scared to death, but I thought I at least wasn't alone.
"But then the war got worse and your grandpa got enlisted. And by the time he was ready to go, I could no longer hide my inflating belly. And then the earth opened up and spat out all sorts of anguish for me. I was devastated that Robert had to go, but then both families cursed me for having conceived a child before marriage. I guess these country bumpkins were still smart enough with their arithmetic to figure out your Mother's conception happened before the wedding. Maybe that's somethin' they teach them in Baptist church."
She swallows a gulp of memories and continues with two attentive eyes on her, "My Father told me to never show my face up again. We were living in this hut on Robert's farm. After Robert had left, his family told me I was shaming them by being there. Especially with the neighbors seeing my big belly. I don't even know if the neighbors figured out when the baby was conceived. They asked me to leave before the baby could be born, I guess so they didn't have to feel they were evicting a child. I cried on the road and asked God to either send Robert back or send me and my baby to heaven. Instead He sent old Casey. He was on his way back home and saw me sitting there by the road. I couldn't tell him why I was there with my one bag of belongings. He didn't ask. He took my stuff and walked me to his home. He told me I could stay there for as long as I wanted. I don't know why he offered it until one day a few months later he told me he never forgot how happy he was the day I came on my own will to listen to him talk about his apiary. I never told him that it was just an excuse, that he was a vehicle to some ungodly scheme. He was the only one besides the doctor who saw my baby born. And for the first year your grandpa was fighting far far away, old Casey took care of me and taught me everything he knew about the bees. I also helped him because I could read all these magazines that he couldn't, being illiterate, that added more knowledge not only to bee handling but also his house and stuff. He also took care of your little Mom while I was out working temp jobs during the war. During the second year I had enough money to move out, but not far from Casey. He was my only friend. Neither family still talked to me, except a few times with Mother sent notes asking how I was. She couldn't be loving; I guess it wouldn't suit God's will. Someone told me once that family feuds get resolved the moment the baby is born. But I guess as long as the baby is invisible, nothing gets resolved. I told your grandpa early on where I was. The few letters I got from him were treasures because from them I knew he was still in love with me, that he was looking forward to returning to see your Mom. And everyday I would cry thinking if he wasn't killed and his body scattered somewhere no one even could find."
She grips her grand daughter's hands and finishes her story, "But you know, Honey, it's funny how pain works. After two years of being alone except with the help of old Casey, after two years of almost daily fear and tears and hard work and taking care of a baby, it was strange how the routine of pain reveals itself as really just a routine the moment the source of the pain disappears. When your grandpa finally showed up, my suffering disappeared but then there wasn't some excitement to balance it. There was this stranger, almost, showing up. He wasn't really the person who created all this emotional pain. I mean, he's the same person before, just slightly changed, a little thinner, but still smiling. Apparently he never even made a shot; they were on missions but it was towards the end of the war and he was in places we had already conquered. He never caught up to the big battles at the end. And when they dropped those two atomic bombs, he just shrugged and said good bye to his buddies and came back. So it wasn't like he was a changed man for the worse like many soldiers. But to me, my first thought was, who is this man I am hugging and now kissing? It didn't feel right. But what was I going to do? He was my husband, and he was back to this family I had built for two years. And soon he found a job to support us and I lost mine because women were no longer needed now that the men were back. So my whole life just changed because this man, and other men, came back.
"But I did find something to do, to remind me of this brief life I had without the stranger in my life. Eventually I learned to live with this man, who was really different but at least pleasant and stable, which was more than you can say about most country folks here. Since I lost my job, I started going back to old Casey's apiary. And then old Casey got too old and decided to leave us all to be with God. He did leave me the apiary and the land. Robert decided to just start farming on that little piece of land. That's what he does best: farming. He wasn't too good with the job he had in town. But I didn't complain. All I needed was the apiary. So that was what I enjoy doing the most every week. To be with the bees."
