December, 1967

Waiting... waiting... I'm waitin' for the train to come in.

The unmistakable sound of the rusty spring on the door to the service porch awoke Helen Belden from a restless sleep. While three of her four children were young adults it seemed that she lost more sleep waiting up for them than chasing after the fourth, a precocious twelve-year old. She rolled over and looked at the alarm clock on the bedside stand. Seeing the time, she got up, pulled on her robe and went out into the kitchen to confront the pre-dawn interloper.

“Trixie?” She didn’t need to ask. Her nineteen year-old daughter’s older brothers had come in hours before.

Trixie stood gripping the worn brass knob, while resting her head against the kitchen door.

“Trixie, what is it?”

“He’s gone,” she sobbed. “Oh, Moms. He’s on his way to the airport. From there, it’s San Francisco and Okinawa and, then, then...”

Helen rushed across the room and wrapped her arms around her daughter.

“Vietnam. He’s so brave and confident, but I’m so scared, Moms. And all I can do is sit here and wait.”

After allowing Trixie to cry for a while, Helen led her over to the table, sat her down, and then put a kettle of hot water on the stove to boil for tea.

Trixie watched silently, as tears continued to flow down her cheeks, while the older woman searched for the words to say. She knew exactly how Trixie felt, she knew there was little anyone could say to allay her fears, and she knew that Trixie expected some sage words of advice.

Once the two cups of tea were ready, Helen carried them to the table and sat down. Handing one to her daughter, she stirred her own, offering a quick silent prayer for guidance.

“I think we have a special responsibility as women,” she finally spoke. “Young men have been sent to fight in wars since the beginning of time, while women have waited at home. Waited and worried. Women may not fight in wars, but we play an important a role maintaining the home front for them while they are gone, assuring them that their sacrifice is for something other than just abstract ideas of freedom and love of country. We need for them to know we’ll be here when they do return. It may not be enough, but I’m certain it helps that they know they have family and friends waiting for them. People who love and care about them.”

“I don’t know if there is anything I can say so you won’t worry about him,” she continued. “I’m worried, too. We can’t protect him, even though we’d like to. What we can do is write to him, reassure him, pray for him, and be here waiting until he does come home.”

“But what, what if he doesn’t come home?”

“I know that’s a possibility. But you cannot focus on that. You need to stay optimistic and make certain that he is too. It won’t be easy. But I believe that if he knows you and the other Bob Whites support him, he’ll only be that much more alert and careful, and he will stay safe.” She stroked Trixie's curls. “Does any of this make sense?”

Trixie shook her head and took a sip of tea. “Well sorta’,” she corrected. “I promised to write him and, of course, I’ll be praying. I’m certainly not going anywhere for the next year or two. But it’s just so…so…You sound so certain and you make it sound easy. But it’s not. Not at all.”

Helen sipped at her tea. She knew too well that nothing was certain and waiting wouldn’t be easy for Trixie. Was it really almost a quarter century since she was the same age as Trixie, so young and impulsive? Was it really almost a quarter century since she was sitting in this same kitchen, confident on the outside but terrified inside, waiting for her man to come home?

December, 1945

Waitin' for the train to come in
Waitin' for my man to come home ...

Helen rinsed her hands in the kitchen sink, shook them and then wiped them on the front of her skirt.

“Helen,” her mother-in-law, Fran Belden, scolded playfully. “You don’t want to ruin that lovely skirt.” She pulled a large, starched apron from out of a drawer. “I thought I told you to just help yourself when you need one of these. Generations of Belden women have worn these and now you should, too. And we certainly have plenty.”

Helen took the apron, draped it across her stomach, and offered a silent prayer of gratitude that she was able to wrap the strings around the back and tie them in front. Only weeks earlier the old fashioned, crisp white aprons had barely reached around her swollen abdomen. Now, her son was two months old and, while she wasn’t quite as thin as she’d like to be, she had made great progress towards regaining the slim figure from before her pregnancy. She was determined that her husband return to the same youthful and attractive woman that he’d left.

Husband. How wonderful and yet odd that sounded. Yes, Peter Belden was her husband and the father of her beautiful son. And there was no mistaking Brian was a Belden. He had a tuft of dark wavy hair and the large dark expressive eyes that were shared by Peter and both of his brothers. He looked nothing like his petite blonde-haired, blue-eyed mother.

Glancing at the infant sleeping in a bassinet across the room, Helen wondered when her husband might see his son. She and Peter had been married only weeks and she was already pregnant when he “shipped out” in April. Germany had surrendered shortly after his ship sailed from San Diego, followed by Japan’s surrender in August. As the long hot days of summer turned into fall, Helen had watched her belly swell and waited for Peter to receive his discharge orders, but they never came. Since giving birth to their son in late October, Helen had prayed that they’d be reunited for the holidays, but she’d lost hope over the past few days of that happening. Peter promised her that the war would be over and he’d be home for Christmas just before boarding the train that had taken him to California, but she’d known then it was a promise he might not be able to keep.

All three of the Belden brothers served in the military and two of those sons would be home for Christmas. After flight training in Florida and then serving in England as an Army Air Corps Officer, the oldest brother, Harold, Jr., had spent the past year in Washington, DC, and would be discharged in the very near future. He had made several trips to Sleepyside and he, his wife and young son were due to arrive the next day for the Christmas celebration. Andy, the youngest Belden brother, was a submariner stationed in New London, Connecticut and would be arriving home on leave later that day.

The last they had heard from Peter, he was on a battleship “somewhere in the Pacific” that had been hastily converted into a temporary transport for repatriation of troops. He would not be discharged until completion of “Operation Magic Carpet”, which could mean months.

“You know he’d be here if he could. He wants to see his beautiful son and spend the holidays with you. ” Helen startled when her mother-in-law touched her shoulder.

“Oh, Helen, if you only knew how easy it is to read your face; the way you were looking at little Brian and then staring out the window. I must admit I also was hoping Peter would be home by now. But you know that a watched pot never boils.”

Helen laughed and gave the older woman a hug. “How can I ever thank you for, for everything. For understanding, taking us in, being there when Brian was born, and…”

“I should be thanking you. Oh, how empty this house was with all three boys away in the service. You have brought so much joy into our home these past few months. And now we have Brian.” Mrs. Belden’s voice cracked as she turned and walked over to the stove. “Speaking of watched pots, I think this stew smells wonderful. You’re becoming a very good cook, Helen.”

Helen shrugged. “I’ve had a wonderful teacher. And it’s only stew. I don’t know if I’ll ever get the knack of making pie crusts.”

“Wah!” Brian let out a single loud cry. An unusually quiet baby, he still managed to bellow loudly when he needed his diaper changed or was ready to eat.

Helen rushed over to find him staring up at her. “WAH!” he yelled again.

“Are you hungry, my sweet boy?” Helen lifted him and made a face. “Peeyew! You’re definitely empty. I guess we need to clean you up! ” She laughed as she carried him out into the hall and up the stairs. “Let’s get you all clean and sweet for when your Uncle Andy gets here.”

Helen heard her husband’s younger brother arrive while she was upstairs changing and feeding Brian, but was surprised to find him waiting anxiously at the foot of the stairway when she came back down.

He greeted Helen with a kiss on the cheek before grabbing his young nephew.

“Hey I thought this kid would be big enough to play ball by now. I was hoping to toss one around with him while I’m here.”

“He may not be able to play ball, but he does seem to enjoy reading,” Helen offered as she followed Andy down the hall.

Andy stopped suddenly and turned around. “Even I know a two month-old can’t read.”

“I read to HIM, silly. He seems to love it. We have some new story books you can read to him. ”

“You like books, Brian?” He held up his nephew to speak to him. “Listen to me, kid. You don’t need none of that book learnin’ and readin’ stuff. All you need is to play good ball. You spend all your time tossin’ a ball around, practicin’ your hittin’ and, and…you’ll be a pro. Yeah baseball.” He looked at Helen. “Why’d you name this kid, Brian anyway? He needs a good ballplayer’s name. He’s the next…well, there’s already a Babe, and Stan the Man, but he’s no man, yet. There’s a Joltin’ Joe. Mmm…Boltin’ Belden, Beltin’ Belden. Yeah, that’s a great name.” He looked back down at his nephew. We’ll call you, Belt, for short. How’s that kid? “

Helen playfully shoved her brother- in-law. “Brian’s a good name. I gave a lot of thought to that. Your mother and father like it. Peter wrote that it was a great name. No one else in either your or my families is named Brian, so it’s uniquely his. And while it means ‘strong one’ I think it sounds good and kind and intelligent, too.

“And MY son will love books AND baseball.” Helen took Brian and squeezed past Andy into the kitchen.

“Just like his old man. Always readin’ books. BLEH!”

“As I recall, Andrew Belden, you were always tagging along with Peter to the library.” His mother had been enjoying the banter in the hallway. “All of my sons loved books AND baseball, but Peter was the best reader.”

Andrew noticed the sudden change in Helen’s expression and realized it was caused by the mention of Peter. “I’m sorry, Helen. Darnit! I miss him, too. And I know he wants to be here to…to see his son. And you.”

Helen placed Brian in the bassinet, arranged his covers, and turned around. “I made soup, Andy. From scratch. And your mother and I are making buttermilk biscuits to have with it for dinner!”

Helen’s false bravado fooled no one. Once she began busying herself at the stove, he pulled his mother into the dining room.

“Any word from Peter?” he whispered.

“Not in weeks. We wired him when Brian was born and received a very long letter from him shortly after, but nothing since. All we know is that he’s in the Pacific somewhere and he’s trying to get transferred to the Atlantic.” She looked back at Helen. “Helen is doing fine, but she’s so young, there aren’t many young people around, and she almost never gets out of the house. She has to be lonely. I’m hoping you’ll cheer her up a bit while you’re here.”

Andy glanced into the kitchen. “She’s a terrific girl, Mom. I’ve admired her since that time I visited Peter at Swarthmore College, and he insisted I had to meet ’the most wonderful girl in the world’.” They both laughed.

“Peter made me double date with Helen’s roommate. Nice enough girl, but a bit of a dumb-Dora. It was obvious that weekend that Peter hadn’t been exaggerating. Helen was wonderful.”

“I think so too, Andy. But her life has changed so much and so quickly. Her family had everything, and she comes to live with a bunch of poor country folk like us. She didn’t know the first thing about how to cook and she’d never done laundry, not even ironing. I wonder if she even knew that eggs came from hens! But I certainly understand why Peter was so determined to marry her. “

“Well, technically, they had to get married, Mom.” Andy smiled knowingly. Helen had been a beautiful, spirited, and intelligent girl, who, overnight, had been forced to become a wife and mother.

“I’ll have no mention of that, Andrew Belden. Peter and Helen wanted to get married. They would have been, if not for that father of hers. God works in mysterious ways. He’s given us a wonderful daughter and grandson and I’m not bothered about the details of how!”

“Fran? Frannie?” The back door flew open and banged against the wall. “What’s that wonderful smell? Is dinner ready?”

“Your father’s home. We need to get supper on the table.” She headed back into the kitchen. “Helen made stew! Doesn’t it smell wonderful, Harold?”

Andy followed her. “It does smell good! Mom, when are Hal and the nag-I-mean-Isabel coming?”

Mrs. Belden hit Andy with a dish towel. “They’ll be here tomorrow. And watch what you say. Isabel is a lovely woman. I won’t have you talking that way about my daughter-in-law!.”

“She’s a nag.” Andy whispered conspiratorially to Helen as he darted out of the kitchen.

“Dinner in fifteen minutes!” Helen called out, trying to stifle a giggle.

Between the praise Andy and her in-laws showered on her for the delicious dinner she’d prepared, and the continual bantering with Andy, Helen enjoyed the entire evening immensely. It had been months since she’d laughed so much. She’d almost forgotten that Christmas was only two days away and Peter wasn’t there. Almost.

After the table was cleared and dishes done, Helen excused herself to go upstairs to put Brian to bed and write yet another letter to Peter. She could barely stay awake as she closed her message the same way she had dozens, if not hundreds, of earlier letters. If you are home for Christmas, there’ll be snow, and mistletoe, and presents under the tree.

I've counted every minute of each live-long day
Been so melancholy since he went away

“Wah!”

Helen rolled over and pulled her pillow over her head, dreaming that she was surrounded by stacks of brightly wrapped packages and hoping that at least one was the Shirley Temple doll she coveted so dearly. But Shirley Temple dolls didn’t cry. Baby dolls cried.

“WAH!”

She sat up, immediately wide awake when she realized that it was Brian, her real-life baby. She grabbed her robe from the foot of the bed and stepped over to his crib.

“WAH!”

“Oh, horsefeathers!” Helen gently lifted a very pungent, wet and cold infant from the crib and hurried to the bathroom. A simple cleansing with warm cloths would not suffice. He needed an entire bath.

Once he was washed from head to toe, she returned to the bedroom where she pulled the wet bedding from the crib, tossed it into the corner and tried to make up his bed with one hand.

Brian had cooperated during his bath, but he now was insisting on being fed. Helen grabbed a pacifier to quiet him, but Brian immediately spit it out, knowing it would not provide what he really wanted.

“Wah!”

Helen tried to give him the pacifier a second time, but he spit it out.

“WAH! WAH!”

“Oh, Brian. I thought you’d given up the two am feeding.” Helen sighed as she sat down in the rocker by the window and offered her son a breast. “Just don’t get used to this. I was enjoying five hours of uninterrupted sleep. Please, sweet boy?”

Helen sat and rocked gently, lulled to sleep by the sound of her son suckling.

Thump. Slam! BANG!

“Oh. Shit, Belden. Look what you made me do? Look at that fender. This is my father’s car.”

“I made you? You’re the one driving!”

Helen immediately sat up. Belden? Was that Peter? It certainly sounded like his voice. Coming fully awake she realized it was Andy, most likely coming in from an evening with his best friend from high school, Eddie Lynch.

“You coulda’ told me I was backing into that damn stone wall.”

“Get outa’ here, Lynch. It’s only a scratch! Hey, what about tomorrow?”

“Nope. Going to evening services with Caroline.”

“Ah, Sweet Caroline Wilson! She’s been carrying a torch for you since elementary school! Guess she finally roped you in!”

“You wish you could be so lucky, Belden!” The car took off.

Helen looked out the window, seeing the tail lights of a car turning from the driveway onto Glen Road. A snowstorm had moved into the Hudson valley and everything looked like it had a coating of powdered sugar. She sighed, knowing that it would take nothing short of a miracle for Peter to make it home for Christmas. Not only was he thousands of miles away, but the snow might make it difficult to travel.

Seeing that Brian was sound asleep, she was able to finish making up the crib and put him down. Fully awake, she decided to warm some milk for herself.

She had assumed that Andy had gone directly to bed and was surprised to find him at the kitchen table finishing the left-over applesauce cake from that morning’s breakfast.

“Hi-de-ho almost sister of mine! Want some?” Andy held up a chunk of cake and smiled drunkenly.

“No thanks. I was just getting some milk.”

Andy offered her the bottle that was sitting on the table.

“Did you drink directly from this?”

Andy grinned and jammed a large fork full of cake into his mouth. “Mymufferdunnetledus.”

Helen took the bottle and poured some milk into a pan. After lighting and adjusting the burner on the stove, she watched as it began to warm. She then poured some into a glass for Andy and placed the bottle in the ice box.

“You’re drunk.” She offered him the glass.

“Jush doin’ research.”

“Research?” Helen laughed.

“Yeah. Learned I like arnge chuze wid vodka but not ‘mato.”

Helen looked confused.

“We were drinkin’ Buddy Mares, Crew-dybers and Moosas”.

“What?” Helen wasn’t familiar with any of those words, much less as something to drink.

“Eddie went to some bwunch and they had all these neat drinks. So me and tha guys tried to make some. Wid arnge and mato chuze.”

Helen laughed out loud. She realized Andy and his friends must have been drinking Bloody Marys, Screwdrivers and Mimosas. And they must have been served at some holiday brunch.

“Your parents are going to be furious if they see you like this. You know…”

“Wild oats, Helen. Gotta sow ‘em, ya know.” Andy smiled and winked.

Helen had seen Peter offer the same wicked smile and wink many times, and she immediately recalled the last time she’d seen it.


She had tried to be brave for her husband, but had failed. She had rehearsed over and over what she would say, but had forgotten every word. Instead she had stood on a railroad platform, clinging tightly to the tall, handsome naval officer, and sobbing uncontrollably.

Peter pulled away and wiped the tears from her eyes. “The war’s almost over, Spitfire. I won’t be gone long.”

She looked up at him and tried to smile at his nickname for her. “I’ll be waiting. I’ll be waiting right here.”

Peter brushed his hand across her stomach and whispered, “You’ll take care of yourself and take care of little Whoosit?”

Helen nodded and wiped her tears. “We’ll both be waiting for you.”

Peter picked up his duffle bag and turned to leave. He walked a few steps before stopping, turning around and offering a wicked smile and wink before singing out loud, “I’ll be home for Christmas. You can count on me. Please have snow and mistletoe, and presents under the tree.”

I've shed a million teardrops or more
Waitin' for the one I adore

Helen let out a sob and wiped the tears from her eyes.

“Are you okay? Did I say somethin’ wrong?” Immediately sobered, Andy jumped up and went over to her. Helen tried to stifle her sobs, but there was no controlling them. She stood, sobbing, while Andy stroked her shoulder.

“It’s okay, Helen.” Andy fumbled with the words, wanting to say and do something to console his sister-in-law, but he’d never seen anyone cry like this. “It’s okay.” When Helen failed to respond to his words, he pulled her to him, aware of the awkwardness of embracing his brother’s wife; a beautiful young wife closer to his own age than his brother’s. “Just let it out,” he offered when she sobbed aloud. “Let it out.

“I miss him so much, Peter. Oh, Peter.” Speaking the words, Helen became aware that she was with Andy and not Peter. She jumped back. “Oh my gosh. Oh, Andy, I’m so sorry.” She grabbed a chair from the table and sat down. “Oh, what have I done?”

“No. No, Helen. You...I...I guess I should go.” Andy turned to leave, but hesitated. Helen was sobbing again. He turned back and stooped down in front of his sister-in-law.

“I’m sorry Andy. I...this is the first time I’ve lost control like this.”

“Dammit, Helen. You’ve been through Hell and haven’t cried?”

“Not like this.” Helen sniffed loudly and wiped her tears. “I want to be strong, but I really wanted him home for Christmas,” she sobbed. “Even after I ruined his life, he said he loved me and he promised. He sang to me and he promised!”

In a moment of weakness shortly before Brian was born, Helen had confided to Andy that she’d been rejected by her own parents who considered her pregnancy and marriage an embarrassment. She was concerned that she’d imposed on her in-laws. She feared they might think her ungrateful for their generosity and unconditional acceptance of their son’s pregnant bride. She’d shared fears about becoming a mother so young and with a husband half a world away. Yet, she expressed no doubts about her love for Peter, their unborn child or her abilities to make a home for all of them. Once her husband returned. At that time, they both were confident that Peter would be home for Christmas, but, with no word from him in weeks and only two days until the holiday, it now seemed impossible.

“He’s never made a promise he didn’t keep, Helen. But he can’t perform miracles, either.” Andy walked over to the stove and poured some of the warm milk into a cup. “You sit there and drink this while I make some breakfast.”

“Breakfast?” Helen glanced over at the clock.

“Okay, maybe it’s too early. But I’m sober now, and you need nourishment.”

“I’ll be okay. I need some sleep more than breakfast.” She stood up. “I guess I just needed to release all my pent-up disappointment. Thank you so much for letting me…”

“I guess that’s what brothers are for. You can cry on my shoulder anytime, little sister.”

Helen smiled as she headed upstairs, forgetting entirely about her milk.

I'm waitin' in the depot by the railroad track
Lookin' for the choo-choo train that brings him back

“Oh, go on, Helen. Brian will be fine. If he wakes up, we’ll keep him happy until you get back. Go, on, dear. You haven’t been out of the house in days.” Fran Belden reassured her daughter-in-law later that morning. “Don’t forget to pick up those cranberries and oranges at Lytell’s. I can’t believe we’re going to have fresh oranges for Christmas. It’s been years!

“And don’t forget those colorful building blocks I saw at Crimpers. Knut will love them and it won’t be long before Brian will enjoy them, too.” She pressed some bills into Helen’s hand.”

Andy held Helen’s coat while she put it on. “I won’t forget,” she reassured her mother-in-law. “But are you sure you’ll be okay with Brian?”

“We’ll be fine. They’re calling for more snow this evening and who knows when you’ll be able to get out again. Besides, Isabel may need help with Knut. Hal says she’s not supposed to be lifting heavy things.”

Helen started to protest again, but was pulled out the door before she could say anything more.

“Yeah. Hal never holds the kid and now the nag has an excuse not to,” Andy commented as they walked over to his father’s car.

“Why are you so critical of Hal and Isabel? They are your brother and sister-in-law,” Helen asked once they were driving up Glen Road.

Hal had visited his parents several times over the past eight months, but Helen had yet to meet Isabel or Knut. Helen sympathized with Isabel’s hesitancy to travel with a toddler during the early months of a pregnancy. She also understood that the Belden household could be overwhelming to the other daughter-in-law. Isabel was originally from Cuba and, although her English was said to be flawless, it had to be difficult to handle so many people laughing and joking at the same time in a strange language. Hal was more staid and formal than his two brothers, but he shared the wicked smile that she found so endearing. She’d never believe someone who could smile like that could be as cold and uncaring as Andy insisted.

“I know you haven’t met her, Helen, but it’s obvious Hal didn’t marry Isabel for her warm personality. She treats him like a servant! And they seem to ignore each other most of the time.”

“Andy!” Helen was shocked to hear him say that. Helen had seen photographs of Isabel and she had the most beautiful black wavy hair she’d ever seen, dark blackberry eyes, and legs and a body to die for. “He had to have been attracted to her. She’s beautiful. In fact, she’s sexy!”

“Helen! I never thought I’d hear that from you. I guess you could say she’s exotic, but I favor the girl next door look. I thought Hal did too, until she came along. But don’t forget that Isabel comes from big, big money. Her family owns half the hotels and casinos in Cuba. I think that’s what really attracted Hal.” Andy glanced over at Helen.

“I know your family is fairly well-off, but nothing like the Socarras family. And Hal always did like money.”

“How did he meet her?”

“Miami. On the beach, of course. She was going to school there when he was in flight training. He mastered Spanish the semester he was in Peru for Mining School so he probably had a good pickup line. And you know how irresistible we Beldens are in uniform.” Andy laughed.

“Hal was wearing a uniform on the beach?”

“Most likely. I’ll bet he sleeps in it too.” Andy laughed. “He likes order and discipline. He was born to be an engineer. Anyway, Hal claims it was love at first sight and, despite her father’s objections, he converted to Catholicism and they had some huge ceremony in Miami the day after he graduated from flight school. She was pregnant before he shipped out to England. She went back to Havana to have the baby and joined him in DC this past Spring. I think she got pregnant the first week there and I don’t think either of them is happy.”

Helen stared out the window. “Peter and I couldn’t wait, either. “

“You have nothing to be ashamed of with me. Dammit Helen! Peter was so in love with you...I mean he is in love with you. You two are perfect for each other.” Andy shrugged. “Maybe Hal and Isabel were madly in love, too. Who knows?”

“Wartime, Andy. Everything moves faster in wartime. Everything except Peter’s transfer.” Helen sighed.

“Now, how was a baby born in Havana given a name like Knut?” Helen had always wanted to ask.

Andy laughed. “They agreed that if she was going to speak only Spanish to the child, then Harold would pick the name. He’s actually Harold Knutsen Belden. Knutsen is a family name. I’ll bet she won’t let him name baby number two!

“Hey, did I ever tell you how much I like the name you chose? Brian Francis. I bet Mom was thrilled.”

“Your mother has been so good to me. I had to use her name, Frances with an “e” if it had been a girl, Francis with an “i” for a boy. But she insisted it be the middle name.”

“What will you name the next child?”

“Aren’t you funny? Peter needs to come home before there’s a next child. Look, it’s starting to snow again.” She tried to change the subject.

They rode in silence the rest of the way into town, thinking about Peter.

“You never should have bought that baby walker. It will be months before Brian is old enough to use it. And you spent far too much money for it. Oh, Andy, do we have time to go back to Crimpers? I bet they’ll take it back. ” Helen looked up the tracks to see if the train was coming.

“The box took up half the car trunk. There will never be enough room for all of Hal and Isabel’s things. You have to take it back.”

Andy laughed. “There’s plenty of room, Helen. And you haven’t a single gift for Brian’s first Christmas. This way he’ll have the largest package under the tree. I can afford it. I have nothing else to spend my money on.”

“It’s not the money. Okay, it is the money. But it’s so much to spend for something so frivolous; especially since he won’t use it right away.”

Andy turned to his sister-in-law. “He’ll be running all over Crabapple Farm in that thing in a matter of weeks, with you chasing behind him. I can’t wait to see it. And, I told you yesterday; it’s not too early for him to start training if he’s gonna’ be a pro ball player.”

He glanced at his watch and looked up the tracks. “Hal’s train isn’t due for almost twenty minutes. Maybe we should wait inside.”

“I’m fine.” Helen looked down the tracks. “I like waiting here. There’s something about seeing the train coming into view.”

“And hoping it’s carrying someone other than Hal?”

Helen laughed. “Of course.”

Just then a train came around the bend in the distance and headed towards the station. Andy and Helen watched as it pulled in, a porter jumped off and pulled downs the steps, and passengers began to disembark. Helen ran over to help Isabel and Knut step down from the train while Andy helped his brother with the luggage.

“Hi, I’m Helen.” She offered a hand, but Isabel ignored it and called back to her son. “Venido aquí, mi hijo.”

Realizing that Isabel was expecting Knut to jump from the train onto the station platform without help, Helen quickly reached down and grabbed him. “Oh my! Aren’t you a big boy! But I think you need help with this step.” She turned to see Isabel scowling.

“Please don’t speak to him in English. I’m speaking only Spanish to my son. Being bilingual will prove an advantage when he’s older. And please put him down. I don’t want him carried everywhere. It’s almost impossible for me to pick him up and he needs to learn to be independent before the new baby comes.” She turned and walked off. “Be careful with that bag, please,” she called to Andy. “It has crystal goblets in it.”

Helen stood, holding Knut. She was not about to let a three year old try to navigate the steep stairs leading down to the parking lot from the raised depot platform, but she didn’t want to start the holiday by upsetting Isabel.

Knut pointed to the train. “Choo-choo!”

“Yes, I mean, si! Choo-choo.” Helen wondered if it were a choo-choo in Spanish, too.

“Are you coming?” Isabel turned and called to Helen and Knut. “Aquí, mi hijo.”

“Guess we’re being paged, Knut. Are you ready for Christmas?”

“Crismus?”

“Ah, yes. Si.” Helen fumbled for the Spanish words, bemoaning that she had taken French in high school instead of Spanish. “Um, Noel? Navidad?

Knut began squirming. “Si! Si! Papá Noel. Si!

Seeing that the porter had loaded a baggage cart with the luggage, Helen followed Isabel towards the stairs, holding Knut tightly in her arms. “We’re going to have a good time, aren’t we, Knut?”

Si! Si! Papá Noel.¡Papá Noel está viniendo! Si! Si!

Helen stopped and looked back down the tracks. “Si, si. Papá Noel, but no Papá Peter.

I'm waitin' for my life to begin
Waitin' for the train to come in

As had been the tradition for years in the Belden household, they had an early supper that evening of soup and sandwiches before enjoying warm cider and cookies in the parlor. The centerpiece of the room was a large white pine that had been cut from the woods surrounding the farmhouse and that Fran and Helen had decorated. In addition to brightly colored electric lights, there were glass ornaments that had adorned Belden trees for years, several made by the Belden boys as children, as well as strings of popcorn, cranberries and nuts that had been made by Fran. The tree was topped by the most treasured Christmas tradition, a hand-crocheted star that had adorned a Belden tree each year for three generations.

“One present tonight?” Harold asked his wife.

“You’re worse than the children,” Fran responded. “Of course, we each can open one gift tonight.”

“Papá Noel está viniendo!?” Knut asked his mother. “¿Regalos? ¿Juguetes?”

“Más adelante, mi hijo. Cuando usted está dormido,” his mother responded.

“Sit down, Knut. Wait your turn.” his father admonished.

Knut sat down on the small stool that had been provided for him, tapping both feet anxiously.

“Even Brian gets to open a package.” Andy reminded Helen. “Well, maybe you can open it for him.”

“Of course. Helen as the newest member of our family, you may pass out the gifts, if you’d like. You can just pick a package randomly.

Helen went over to the tree and saw a small neatly wrapped package for Knut. Knowing he would have a difficult time waiting for the adults, she selected it. He immediately started tearing off the wrapping paper.

“Knut,” his mother scolded.

“Gracias,” he mumbled as he continued to tear off the paper. Finding a picture book, he held it up to this mother. “¿Leído?”

Isabel took the book. “It’s in English.” She handed it to Helen. “Brian can have this.”

Fran Belden shook her head in disapproval, but said nothing as she helped Helen find a second package for the little boy. She whispered to Helen that it was intended as a special gift from a neighbor, the author. She had given a signed copy to each of the Belden grandsons. There was a personal message to Knut on the inside cover and a second book under the tree with a special message for Brian.

“Maybe I’ll read it to the boys at bedtime. Would you like that, Knut? ¿Leído?” Helen whispered to him.

He smiled at her as he tore open a second gift. “Si.”

Once everyone had opened a gift and a few dozen cookies had been devoured, they had to hurry to dress for candlelight church services. Fran had offered to stay home with the two boys, but Helen wanted to keep her promise to Knut and read the storybook to him at bedtime. She sensed that he was too used to disappointments.

Holding Brian, she and Knut watched out the front window as the others crowded into the family’s sedan and drove down the long drive and onto Glen Road.

“Now, where is that story book? I promised someone a story.”

Knut ran over to the tree and got the book. “¿Leído?

Si. Leído. But in English.”

She and Knut settled into a large chair by the front window. Cradling Brian in one arm, she used the other hand to hold the book and began to read.

“The Fathers Are Coming Home.

It is nighttime and the fathers are coming home.”

She had read only a few lines when she noticed that both boys were sound asleep. After carrying each upstairs and tucking them in, she returned to the living room to wait for the others to come home. Seeing the book lying on the chair, she picked it up again and read the message the author had written.

To Knut Belden, who waited so patiently for his father to come home.

Margaret Wise Brown, Christmas 1945.

Helen looked under the tree and found the package addressed to Brian. She ripped open the wrapping paper and read the message inside it.

To Brian Belden, who is waiting for his father to come home.

Margaret Wise Brown, Christmas 1945.

She carried the book over to the large chair and sat, watching the snow falling. She pulled a crocheted afghan around her, opened the book, and began reading it again. Watching out the window, she allowed the tears to flow as she reread the words on the last page, over and over several times.

And the boy’s father, who is a sailor, comes home from the sea.
Home to his little boy.

She closed her eyes, wishing that this would be Brian’s only Christmas waiting for his father to come home.

“You’re so beautiful. More beautiful than I remember.”

“I miss you.” Helen sighed. “If only you were home.”

Helen recognized a familiar chuckle.

“I love you.” Her husband kissed her again.

“Mmmmm. Your kisses are delicious.” She’d had this dream before. “Kiss me again.”

“I’d love to, but I want to see that son you made, first. Then I’ll do much more than kiss you.”

Helen opened her eyes and looked into the chocolate brown ones of her husband. “What?” It wasn’t a dream! It was real! Her husband was kneeling beside her, kissing her!

“Peter?”

“Who else?” He laughed.

“Peter!” She jumped out of the chair and into her husband’s arms. “You’re here! You’re home! Am I dreaming?”

“No. It’s not a dream.”

“Ohmigod! You’re real! You’re here! You’re home!”

“I’m home, Spitfire. I’m home for Christmas.

“And there’s snow. And mistletoe. And presents under the tree.”

December, 1967

Waiting... waiting... I'm waitin' for the train to come in

“I almost forgot that you and Dad were separated by the war, Moms. I guess you know exactly how difficult it is and, and he was your husband and all, not just…” Trixie got up and hugged her mother.

“It wasn’t easy, Trixie, but we managed, and your father did come home.

“Now I want to know exactly what you’ve been doing since,” Helen looked over at the clock on the wall. “Your brothers came home over five hours ago.”

Trixie jumped up from the chair and headed towards the back stairway. “I need to get some sleep. I promised I’d write and tomorrow I have to…” She ran up the stairs.

“Trixie!” Her mother called after her.

“Night Moms! Thank you!”

 

Author’s Notes

This story was written as a Secret Santa gift for Diane (Lorindol) who lives in Florida, but fondly remembers the snowy, white winters of her childhood in Wisconsin. Her own traditions of a holiday spent with family and friends allowed me to continue what is becoming a tradition of my own: to write about a more humble time, at the close of World War 2, when Helen and Peter were young newlyweds, sharing Christmas with their family and friends.

I cannot share a story without offering my most sincere gratitude to CathyP for creating Jixemitri, to all past and current owners, administrators, and moderators who keep that dream alive, and to those readers who continue to believe in me, even when I don’t.  I want to offer an extra special thank you to Cathyoma for all the work she does each year coordinating the Secret Santa project.

Story title and song lyrics that appear throughout the story are from Peggy Lee’s Waitin’ for the Train to Come in, © 1945 Words and Music by Martin Block and Sunny Skylar. Peggy Lee was a singer, songwriter, composer and actress whose career spanned nearly seven decades. Her sultry voice made her a jazz and pop legend. Perhaps her most well-known recording was Fever, but this song is equally sensuous and suggestive and I believe perfectly expresses the longing of women who must wait for their men, for whatever reason. The reader may want to get in the proper mood by listening to Peggy here.

Operation Magic Carpet was the post-World War II effort by the War Shipping Administration to repatriate over eight million American Military personnel from all over the world. Hundreds of Liberty ships, Victory ships, and troop transports began repatriating soldiers from Europe in June, 1945. Beginning in October, 1945, over 370 Navy ships were used for repatriation duties in the Pacific. Aircraft carriers, battleships, hospital ships and others were used. The European phase of Operation Magic Carpet concluded in February 1946, while the Pacific phase continued until September 1946.

Margaret Wise Brown wrote The Fathers are Coming Home in 1943, but it was never published until 2010, to celebrate the 100th anniversary of the birth of the author of many children’s classics such as Runaway Bunny and Goodnight Moon. Ms. Brown resided in New York City, had a second home in Maine, and is not known to have lived in Sleepyside or even Ossining. But wouldn’t it be nice to think that she was a friend and neighbor of another children’s author who did?

Not much is known from the original books about Harold Belden and his wife; how they came to live in Idaho and had dark, exotic children. For whatever reason, the author imagined Harold as a serious Engineer who served as a pilot in the military. The Army Air Corps flight school during WW2 really was in Miami so it made sense that his wife was not Native American as so many assume, but a Latina. Her connections to the pre-Castro Havana night life (and the American Mafia, maybe?) just might provide fodder for future stories.

Her mother’s Cuban heritage might explain her Hallie Belden’s dark exotic beauty, but it further confused how her sons came to be named Knut and Cap. The arrangement between Harold and Isabel described in the story may explain Knut’s name, but there remains the mystery of Cap’s. Perhaps that’s also fodder for a future story.

The author apologizes if there are any errors in the Spanish spoken by Isabel and little Knut. Like, Helen, the author studied French in high school (and college) and has very limited proficiency in Spanish.

While this story is intended to stand on its own, it is actually a sequel to my 2008 Secret Santa gift for Robin, I’ll Be Home For Christmas, and a prequel to my 2009 Secret Santa gift to BonnieH, A Magi-cal Christmas.

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