“Was? Did something happen to him?”
“He was killed in Vietnam.”
“When?”
“During the Tet Offensive.” January 1968. Had it really been more than two years?
The lady sat for a long time, hands in her lap, watching her children. Carolyn knew she should leave, but the normalcy held her. The little boy and girl ran up the grassy slope. “Mommy! We need more bread! The ducks are still hungry!”
Chuckling, the lady opened a package of Wonder bread and handed them each a slice. “Little pieces. And don’t get too close. You’ll frighten them away.”
Carolyn remembered Oma letting her open packages of Wonder bread on the way home from Hagstrom’s grocery store. Her stomach cramped with hunger now, and her mouth watered. The children ran down the slope and threw the food to the ducks. Carolyn put her forehead on her raised knees and swallowed despair.
“Would you like a sandwich?” The lady held one out. “We have more than enough.”
Too hungry to be proud, Carolyn got up and went over to accept it. “Thank you.” She started to move away, but the lady spoke again.
“Why don’t you sit with us and share our picnic?” She set out sandwiches, a plastic container of potato salad, a bag of chips, another container of chocolate chip cookies, pints of milk.
Carolyn sat on the grass next to the blue blanket and tried not to stare at the food as she ate the peanut butter and jelly sandwich.
“You can sit on the blanket.” The lady smiled at her again. “It’s all right. The grass is still a little wet with dew, isn’t it?”
“I don’t want to get your blanket dirty.”
The lady’s brown eyes softened. “Sit. Please. Do you live close by?”
Carolyn noticed the gold cross at her throat. “I’ve been living in the park for a while.”
She looked dismayed. “Why?”
“I didn’t want to go back to the place where I’d been living.”
“You don’t have anywhere else to go?”
Carolyn shrugged and then shook her head. “I burned my bridges a long time ago.” She licked jelly off her fingers. She’d only eaten half of the sandwich. “May I please have one of those pieces of cellophane?”
“You’re not going to eat the whole thing?”
“I’m saving a little. For later.”
The lady’s eyes grew moist. “You can eat it. I’ll give you another one to save, if you want.” She reached into the basket. “I wondered why I felt such an impulse to make extra sandwiches this morning.” When she looked up, her eyes filled. “Don’t cry or I will, too.”
“People usually tell me to get lost.” As if she wasn’t already.
“May I ask your name?”
“Caro.” A piece only, but enough.
“I’m Mary.” She extended her hand. Carolyn had to move closer to shake it. “It’s nice to meet you, Caro.” She passed over a pint of milk, then took a paper plate and fork from the basket, scooped potato salad onto it, and handed it to Carolyn. “Tell me about yourself.”
Fear melted away and loneliness won. Carolyn told Mary she had family, but they wouldn’t want her anymore. She told her about college, Chel, the protest rallies, the desperation to change the world before it was too late, and then Oma’s call telling her it already was. She told her about living in Haight-Ashbury and moving to Clement Street, the drinking and drugs, going to Woodstock and the long drive home wondering if Chel would make it.
“Did she?”
“Yeah. But she died of an overdose a couple months ago.” Carolyn put her hands over her face and cried. “I’m sorry. I don’t know why I told you all that.”
“I asked, Caro. Because I care.”
The children raced up the slope again. The girl came over to Carolyn. “Hello.”
Carolyn felt her face fill with heat. “Hello.”
“Who are you?” the boy wanted to know.
“Don’t be rude, Charlie. Caro, this is Sadie, my little lady.” She ran a tender hand over the little girl’s dark curls. “And this is Charlie, the man of the house.” Smiling, she pinched his nose. “Caro is our guest.”
The little girl looked curious. “Is that why you made so many sandwiches, Mommy?”
Mary laughed. “I guess so.” She patted the blanket and they sat down. They prayed together before she gave them their sandwiches.
Charlie leaned closer to his mother and whispered loudly, “Why is Caro crying?”
“Because she has had a very hard time.”
“You used to cry a lot. I still hear you sometimes.”
“Crying can be good for you.” She kissed him. “Eat your lunch.”
They took their bread crusts and ran down to the lake, eager to toss them to the ducks. Sadie, the little lady, picked tiny white flowers from the grass while Charlie went frog hunting.
“You should go home, Caro.”
Carolyn hugged her knees close to her chest again and rested her forehead on them. “I don’t think I’d be welcome.”
“Your mother and father would want you back. So would your grandmother.”
“I don’t think so.”
“Take my word for it. They would. They’d want to know you’re alive and safe, especially…” She turned her face away and watched her children. “They didn’t just lose their son that day, Caro. They lost you, too. I can’t even imagine what I’d feel like if I lost one, let alone both my children.”
“They’ll never forgive me.”
Mary faced her. “I’m a mother, and I can tell you no matter what one of my children did, I’d want them to come home. I would run to them and throw my arms around them and kiss them until they cried for mercy!” She gave a soft, broken laugh. “Don’t leave your mother and father wondering if you’re dead or alive. That’s the cruelest kind of torment.”
Carolyn had a hundred excuses not to go home. She didn’t have a way to get there. She’d have to beg for money for bus fare. By the time she had enough, she’d be starving again. In truth, the thought terrified her. What would Mom and Dad say? What would Oma? They’d wish her dead if they knew half of what she’d done.
Mary gathered the containers and put them back in the basket. She suddenly seemed to be in a great hurry. When she stood, Carolyn shifted off the blanket. Mary shook it out and folded it. She called Charlie and Sadie. They came reluctantly. “Do we have to go home?”
“We’re not going home. We’re taking Caro to the bus depot. We’re going to buy her a ticket so she can go home to her family.”
Carolyn gaped at her.
Mary folded the blanket over the basket and picked them up in one hand. Smiling, she held out her other hand to Carolyn and helped her up. The children ran ahead to a van parked on the road.
“Why are you helping me? Why go to all this trouble for a stranger?”
“My husband has been MIA since Tet. I don’t know if he’s alive or dead. I may never know.” She gave Carolyn a tremulous smile, eyes awash with tears. “I can’t bear the thought of someone else going through the suffering I go through every day. Don’t you see, Caro? You’ve been MIA. You’ve been a prisoner of war, too. In your case, it’s just a different kind of war.”
“Not an honorable one. It’s not the same.”
“Oh, Caro. How could any mother or father not want their child back from the dead?” She grasped Carolyn’s hand, squeezing it. “I’ll pray they’re watching for you, and they run to you when they see you coming home. If they don’t, you call me. I’ll come and get you.”
When the depot announced her bus was about to leave, Carolyn rose. Mary and the children walked with her. Carolyn’s heart pounded heavily. Her hands sweated. “You don’t have to stay.”
“I’m not leaving until you’re safely settled on that bus and it’s on its way.” She scribbled her telephone number on a slip of scrap paper and handed it to Carolyn.
When Carolyn found a seat, she saw Mary, Charlie, and Sadie waving at her. She waved back.