Vivian Schurfranz - Laura

"The war is over!"

Stupefied, Laura stared at her, then let out a whoop. "It’s really over?"

"The armistice was signed early this morning in France. Germany surrendered!" They both began to careen around the room in a wild circling.

"Stop, stop!" Sarah said breathlessly. Fanning herself with her apron, she sank down on the bed. "Whew! I’m winded." She brushed back a blonde curl, and her round cheeks flamed a hot pink. "There’s a big parade down Pennsylvania Avenue this afternoon. Parties everywhere! Mother and I will be leaving in a few minutes for the Red Cross celebration."

Outside in the street Laura glimpsed a young man, perched on the hood of a car with a megaphone in his hand, shouting, "The war is finished! Come to the victory parade at three o’clock — Pennsylvania Avenue."

Sarah moved to the door. "Laura, if Bill Crowley calls, tell him where I am, will you?" She smiled shyly.

"Bill?" Laura said, arching her brows in surprise. "Is he coming today?"

"He might." Sarah flushed. "I don’t know when to expect him. I received a letter from Bill yesterday and he said his discharge from the air force had come through and he should land in New York by the first of November, so, like Michael, it could be any day."

"Rest assured, I’ll point Bill in the right direction," Laura said with a grin.

Sarah blushed again, closing the door after her.

Laura lifted her flared skirt and sat by the window, holding back the curtain, watching people begin to come out and to hug one another and to sing. Shawn should be here any minute. Oh, she thought, what a celebration they’d have today and tonight. It had been a long time since she had danced with Shawn. How she was looking forward to it! Thanks to Shawn’s expert teaching, she had become a good dancer. She contemplated the last waltz they were dancing when Joe came bursting upon them and pulled her away, telling her Sarah had the flu. Was that only last month? She frowned when she remembered Shawn’s kiss. Had he deliberately kissed her when he saw Joe? She sighed. Well, Joe hadn’t seemed to notice.

She wondered what it would be like to dance with Joe, then a small smile played about her lips at the memory of Uncle Vito’s wedding. She had danced with Joe! She had been nine years old when Joe had escorted her to his uncle’s wedding. How grown-up and pretty she had felt in her long, ruffled dress among all the adults, many of whom were in Italian costume. Joe had swung her around in a whirlwind dance, the tarantella, and often her feet didn’t touch the floor. She’d never forget the merriment, the foot-stomping rhythm, the tables of food, and Joe.

Letting the curtain drop, she wondered why she was always thinking of Joe.

The doorbell rang, interrupting her reverie. She flew downstairs to open the door.

There stood Shawn, hat in hand, with a big grin on his face. For an instant they drank in one another’s faces, eyes locked. Then Shawn swiftly moved toward her, his fingers lightly caressing her cheek.

"You look gorgeous, sweetness. You have no idea how much I missed you and how much I wanted to see you!"

"Why should you risk the flu, Shawn?" she asked lightly. "That would have been foolish." But she remembered what it had meant to her to see Joe’s masked face. Dear loyal Joe. He was always there when she needed him — like the wild ride from the jail to school. Little fingers of doubt flitted across her mind when she looked at Shawn. Would he care enough to race to her rescue?

Shawn kissed her gently, then stepped back and chuckled. "What a day we’re going to have. First the parade, then dancing." His eyes sparkled, and he pulled her forward again. "I love you, Laura," he said lightly.

Her heart leaped at his words, and everything and everyone, including Joe, were forgotten. All she could see was Shawn’s handsome, round face with his crooked smile and blue eyes.

Church bells peeled, and more honking cars went by, with men blaring into megaphones repeating the message that the war was won! Cars choked Cherry Alley, doors banged, and people swarmed everywhere, some clapping trays together like cymbals, and others dancing on rooftops.

"Come on," Shawn said eagerly. "Let’s have some fun."

She grabbed her velvet cloak and, happily clasping his hand, followed him, half-skipping and half-running toward Pennsylvania Avenue.

Upon their arrival, crowds were in the street laughing, yelling, weeping, and singing.

Shawn swept her up in his arms, then spun her out and back. Laughing and brimming with health and rejoicing, Laura yearned to leap and cavort like a small girl. She kept repeating to herself, "The war is over. Shawn loves me!" For an instant a pang shot through her heart and her eyes clouded. What was Joe doing? Who was he celebrating with?

"Hey, my beauty!" Shawn said, chucking her under the chin. "No frowns allowed."

A group of soldiers squatted atop a truck, ringing handbells and blowing horns. Despite the chill November day, the jubilant crowd warmed the air. Policemen were blowing whistles, trying to move the people off the street over to the cordoned sidewalk. As if by magic, flags appeared, fluttering from office buildings and being draped over cars. A miniature flag was thrust in Laura’s hand, and she gaily waved it along with everyone else.

All at once the fire engine’s siren screamed. The parade was to begin! The flag waving merry-makers crowded together along the wide avenue, and as the Marine band, bugles blaring, drums beating, swung proudly past, lusty cheers broke out. A soldier beside Laura murmured, "God bless this country," and tears rolled unashamedly down his face. First a unit of soldiers and then sailors marched past. An ambulance with an effigy of the Kaiser in the front seat, swathed in bloody bandages, was followed by a coffin with the Kaiser inside.

Government workers, wearing red, white, and blue paper hats, had been given a holiday by order of the president. They had joined hands and were snake-dancing through the honking cars.

Girls ran out to kiss the soldiers and sailors and to press flowers into their hands.

The parade ended with the band striking up the national anthem. Everyone joined hands and sang "The Star Spangled Banner" with verve and pride. Tears stung Laura’s eyes. The song had never meant so much to her as at this triumphant moment.

She and Shawn hurried along with the jostling, happy throng to the House of Representatives where President Wilson was to give his speech. The House Chamber was filled to capacity, but they managed to squeeze their way to the front.

Before long, a smiling Woodrow Wilson with his top hat raised walked jauntily to the podium. For all his sixty-one years he appeared almost boyish.

Waving and smiling broadly from the speaker’s stand, the President patiently waited for the tumult to die down. Finally the audience hushed, awaiting his address.

He began in a firm voice, "My fellow countrymen, the Armistice was signed this morning. Everything for which America fought has been accomplished. It will now be our fortunate duty to assist by example, by sober, friendly counsel, and by material aid in the establishment of democracy throughout the world."

All this talk of democracy around the world left Laura with a bitter feeling. Everywhere the rights of countries were to be upheld, except right here in America. Women, it seemed, were to be excluded in this victory for democracy!

Interspersed in the crowd were the purple, white, and gold banners of the suffragists, and she wondered if the women holding high these colors shared her same thoughts.

Shawn took her elbow, and they filed out of the chamber and onto Lafayette Square for the fireworks and dancing.

Later in the evening Laura began to tire. "Shawn, I don’t know what it is, but I could go to sleep right on the dance floor."

"Nonsense. It’s only ten o’clock." He peered more closely at her. "You do look pale. You’re not going to get sick on me, are you ?"

She laughed shakily. "No, I feel fine, but I think we’d better sit this one out."

By midnight, she asked Shawn to take her home. Although she was exhilarated, she was also exhausted. It hadn’t been too long ago that she had gotten up from a sickbed.

As they climbed the stairs to the front stoop she noticed the light in Joe’s window. Her glance didn’t escape Shawn. He turned to face her. "Don’t even think about Joe Menotti with me around," Shawn said firmly, but there were teasing lights in his eyes.

"I’m — I’m not…" she lied.

He kissed her on the nose, then wrapped her in his arms, kissing her soundly so that her senses reeled.

Releasing her, he whispered, "Think only of me tonight, and when you dream, dream of Shawn O’Brien."

"I solemnly promise," she said mockingly, "to have dreams only if you’re in them!"

He entangled his fingers in her hair, nuzzling her slender neck. "I not only dream of you, dearest Laura, but you’re in my every waking thought."

"You’ll lose your job that way," she said jokingly.

His eyes were searching, but there was no answering banter. "Good night, my love. I’ll call you tomorrow."

For a moment she watched him as his trim figure swung down the moonlit street.

As she undressed she kept thinking of the glorious day. She washed her face, brushed her teeth, and fell into bed. The faint strains of "There’s a Long, Long Trail a 'Winding," floated down from Joe’s record player. She lay very still, listening. She wondered if the poignant melody reflected Joe’s feelings. What was he thinking? Were he and Aldo thinking of Bertina? She doubted if they had celebrated today. And, Laura asked herself, did Joe give her so much as a fleeting thought anymore? Or was his mind turned to new horizons — horizons that didn’t include her? She bit her lip to keep the tears back. The wonderful day became tinged with sadness.