Next to Love (40 page)

Grace starts across the yard, oblivious of the drizzle, or pretending to be. A moment later, another figure comes out of the French doors to the sunporch and follows her. Mac is carrying an open umbrella. As he catches up to her and reaches out to shelter her with it, she turns back to him, and Babe sees her face. It has collapsed into jarring, disjointed pieces, a cubist portrait of desolation and fear.

Mac’s lips begin to move. Babe thinks Grace is going to bolt, but she stands listening. He goes on for some time, and as he does, she begins to put her face together. By the time they turn back to the house, it is a mask of perfect composure. They start across the yard, side by side, in step with each other, but the umbrella is large, and they are careful to keep several inches of damp daylight between them. The space, Babe thinks, is a lament for what might have been.

Babe turns back to Amy and Jack just as Claude comes up behind her and puts his left arm around her shoulders.

“Were we ever that young?” she asks.

“Before the war.”

The soreness in his voice takes her back.

After the war
, they wrote and promised and prayed.
After the war
we’ll do this or that or another thing.
After the war
we’ll be together.
After the war
we’ll be happy.
After the war
we’ll be safe. In all their dreaming of
after the war
, they never dreamed there is no after to war.

She reaches up and covers his hand with hers and, as she does, another thought crosses her mind. She knows the question is foolish, but she cannot help herself.

“Would you have married me if there were no war?”

She waits for his answer, though she is sure he will tell her what she wants to hear.

He surprises her.

“If there were no war?” he repeats. “Imagine.”

FOR
André Bernard

ACKNOWLEDGMENTS

I
AM GRATEFUL TO THE GUGGENHEIM FOUNDATION FOR ITS GENEROSITY
and support in making the research and writing of this book possible. Thanks also to the Allen Room of the New York Public Library, which, under the aegis of Jay Barksdale, gives shelter and research aid to working writers; and to Mark Bartlett and the entire extraordinary staff of the New York Society Library for their invaluable help and unfailing good humor.

The inspiration for this novel came from a group of young men known as the Bedford Boys. The story, as I originally read it, told of nineteen young men from the town of Bedford, Virginia, population 3,000, who died in the first minutes of landing on Omaha Beach on D-Day, June 6, 1944. No other town in America, it was said, suffered a greater one-day loss. Revisionist history now suggests that the casualties came not from the town but from the county of Bedford. Geography is beside the point. Whether to town or county, the loss is staggering, the ripples from it heartbreaking and enduring. This is not the tale of those young men and the families they left behind, but it is the story of similar young men in every town in America, and the wives, children, and parents who struggled to put their lives together after the men were gone. In re-creating these characters, I relied on the memoirs and letters of the G.I.s who fought World War II and the women who waited for them. Their deeply moving accounts provided a wealth not only of factual information but of constant inspiration. As a writer, a reader, and an American, I owe them a huge debt.

Many friends and colleagues helped with suggestions, insights, and sympathetic ears. I am grateful to Anne Eisenberg, Ed Gallagher, Maggie Jackson, JoAnn Kay, Joe Keiffer, Judy Link, Michelle Press, Noah Reibel, Hazel Rowley, and Brenda Wineapple. Thanks to Eva Talmadge of the Emma Sweeney Agency and Hana Landes of Spiegel & Grau for being such helpful and cheerful pros. Fred Allen once again proved himself a generous, close, and gifted reader. As always, Liza Gyllenhaal Bennett was there with probing questions, astute observations, and unflappable calm from first inkling to final edit. Richard Snow’s encyclopedic knowledge of the war, healthy skepticism about sources, generosity with his father’s memories and letters, and editorial expertise made the research and writing of this book more fun than any writer has a right to expect.

In the United Kingdom, I am grateful to Paul Beggaley, Emma Bravo, Camilla Elworthy, Charlotte Grieg, and Bruce Hunter, for their enthusiasm and friendship. Here at home, my deep gratitude goes to my editor, Celina Spiegel, for her sharp eye, light hand, and gentle but perceptive nudges; and to my good friend and superb agent, Emma Sweeney, who lived this book with me in more ways than one. Finally, I cannot imagine writing this or any book without Stephen Reibel, Captain, USAMC, retired, the man whom, in the parlance of one World War II veteran, I trust with my life.

ALSO BY
ELLEN FELDMAN

Scottsboro

The Boy Who Loved Anne Frank

Lucy

ABOUT THE AUTHOR

E
LLEN
F
ELDMAN
, a 2009 Guggenheim Fellow, is the author of
Scottsboro
, which was shortlisted for the Orange Prize,
The Boy Who Loved Anne Frank
, and
Lucy
. She lives in New York City.