Flustered, all she could utter was, "Oh, please, sit down." Then she smiled and said graciously, "Any friend of Michael’s is welcome in our home." Her hand inadvertently strayed to her shining hair, poking back a few unruly curls.
"I understand you haven’t heard from Michael yet." Shawn sat on the horsehair sofa, leaning back nonchalantly. "You should receive a letter any day, because I heard from him about two weeks ago." His jacket had a number of ribbons. "Michael and I were best friends," he said.
"We’re so pleased to have you here," Sarah said. "You don’t know how we’ve longed to hear from Michael. It’s been over a month since we received his last letter."
"Oh, yes," Laura said excitedly. "Tell us all about Michael."
Shawn beamed, his eyes once again boldly sweeping over her. Laura almost expected a low whistle. Embarrassed, she could only stare, fascinated by this beautiful stranger.
"I’ll be happy to tell you about Michael, but I haven’t seen him in a long time," he said, enjoying the fact that he had flustered her. It was as if he’d seen this reaction many times before.
"Please," Mrs. Mitchell said, rising, "let me bring you a cup of coffee."
Shawn held up his hand. "Thank you, but I can only stay a few minutes. I need to report at noon for my first briefing." He casually threw his arms across the sofa’s back. "Michael has told me so much about the Mitchell family that I feel I know you. The only thing he didn’t mention was how pretty each of you is!"
Sarah flushed. Even Maude Mitchell’s pink cheeks turned a deeper red as she sank back down in her chair. Laura smiled, relishing the compliment. If only Joe could hear Shawn. Maybe it would take something like a Shawn O’Brien for Joe to become more aware of her new maturity. She couldn’t keep her eyes off this good-looking boy with his Irish charm and easy manner. His smile never left his face, and his confident air bordered on cockiness, but not quite.
"Shawn," Maude Mitchell asked, "how long has it been since you last saw Michael?"
"Hmmm"—he squinted up at the crystal light fixture—"about six months. He was shipped overseas in August, and I was kept at Fort Sheridan for more training."
"Have you been in Washington long?" Laura asked.
"Three days." He picked up his hat, which was next to him, twirling it around in his hands. "I’ll be an aide-de-camp to General Long at the White House." He winked. "That’s a fancy name for messenger boy."
"Oh, but what a fantastic opportunity," Laura burst out. "You’ll be able to see the president, his wife, and all the important people of the world that come calling on the Wilsons."
Shawn cocked a brow in her direction. "It could be an interesting assignment."
"It’s certainly better than being sent overseas," Sarah said softly. Her delicate pink blouse made her look like a rose with her lovely gold hair, pink cheeks, and porcelain complexion.
Shawn turned his head, observing her. "I know, and believe me, I’m not complaining. Poor Michael."
"Oh"—Sarah’s hand flew to her mouth— "I didn’t mean…"
"I know you didn’t, Sarah." There was an awkward pause in the room as Shawn looked at each of them with a smile. "Yes, siree," he said, glancing about the cozy room. "It’s good to be in a home again. A barracks doesn’t have many comforts."
"Michael told us you’re a New Yorker," Mrs. Mitchell said. "What part?"
"Manhattan, Seventieth and Madison. My folks live in a brownstone there." He tilted his head and grinned. "I’m an only child."
"Are you spoiled and willful?" Laura teased.
"Oh, no," he assured her. "Dad put me to work when I was only ten in his photography studio. In fact, I still take pictures as a hobby." He reached in his back pocket and pulled out his billfold. "In fact, I’ve a picture right here that you’d be interested in." He extracted a snapshot and passed it around.
The picture was of Michael and Shawn standing in front of an army truck. They were in their khaki uniforms, hatless, arms draped carelessly around one another’s shoulders, with grins that threatened to split their faces.
"Michael looks wonderful," Laura’s mother said gently. Laura knew the same thought crossed both their minds. Michael was so happy on this sunlit day in the photo, and now he was in the mud of French trenches.
"This is a picture of my mom and dad on their twentieth anniversary," Shawn said, handing them the snapshot.
Shawn’s parents were an attractive couple. His mother was in a flowered chiffon dress and had a shy little smile on her oval face, while Mr. O’Brien had the same grin Laura saw on Shawn’s face.
Laura handed the photo back, noticing that Shawn hastily tucked two snapshots back in the billfold, no doubt a girlfriend or two.
Shawn caught Laura watching his action. Quickly he stuffed the wallet in his pocket and jumped to his feet. "Sorry, but I’ve got to run."
"Could you come to dinner about six o’clock next Saturday evening?" Mrs. Mitchell said, standing also. "I’ll prepare corned beef and cabbage. Any Irishman should like that!"
"The dinner sounds swell!" he exclaimed. "I’ll be here." He turned to Sarah. "Goodbye, Sarah." He bent over Maude Mitchell’s hand and brushed it with his lips. "Mrs. Mitchell." He bowed politely to her and turned to face Laura. "I’m looking forward to seeing you again," he said meaningfully.
Laura walked with him to the front door where Shawn settled his wide hat on his wavy hair. As he slipped into his great overcoat he half-turned and asked bluntly, "Will you go dancing with me one night soon, Laura?" He reached for her hand as if to shake it but held it instead.
She caught her breath. She blushed and gradually pulled her hand free. She answered his brashness with her own. "If you don’t mind having your boots stepped on."
He touched her hair, letting his fingers slide down her cheek, then he laughed and said, "Oh, Laura, you and I are going to get along just fine." With a flick of his finger to his wide brim, he sprinted down the front steps and was gone.
Laura stared at the closed door for several moments. She had never met anyone like Shawn O’Brien before.
Thoughtful, she went upstairs.
As she made her bed, cleaned the bathroom, and mopped the floors, she kept thinking of Shawn. She was glad he was coming next Saturday night for dinner. She began to plan the salad and dessert and what she would need to do, such as polish the silver candelabra and iron the Irish linen tablecloth. With a guilt pang she thought of Joe. What if he asked her to the movies next Saturday? Her happy spirit was dampened. She would simply have to tell him the truth. After all, there was no harm in entertaining a friend of Michael’s. What a ninny she was to be dreaming of Shawn O’Brien with such a flutter in her heart. She had only just met the boy, Joe was the one she loved, had for years, and would forever! She smiled. She was, after all, only fifteen. How could she predict what her future held? She wanted to get out and see the world. As much as she wanted Joe to notice her, she had to admit it was nice when someone else like Shawn admired her right away. Shawn was from New York, and she’d never visited the largest city in America. Someday she would see New York, she vowed. She might even go out with a boy from New York!
Chapter Six
After Laura finished her Saturday morning chores she soaked in a hot tub and thought of Shawn and his flashy style. She had never met anyone quite as gregarious and daring, and it was pleasant to have such a dashing soldier want to take her dancing. Humming, she soaped her arms and scrubbed her neck, wetting a fallen tendril of hair.