Read Online Silent Star by Tracie Peterson - Free Book Online Page A
Authors: Tracie Peterson
Ads: Link
turn in the barber chair. He didn’t want to hear about another battle or another place where soldiers from the 28th might be fighting and dying.
“I don’t see Ardennes on the map,” Ralph announced, obviously feeling somewhat important, “but from what I’ve heard it’s in Belgium.”
“Reconnaissance in force,” said Grandpa Hurley suddenly. The man was of few words, but when he spoke, people listened.
“What’s that, Gramps?” Bob asked.
“The Germans.” He paused and looked at them as if those two words said it all. “Like old J. E. B. Stuart did at Gettysburg. It’s a ruse to throw us off and test our lines.”
They all nodded knowingly.
Andy looked up at the wall map. Bob Davis had put it up in January of ’42, and it had proved to be a point of interest for anyone who wanted to know where the battles were taking place. They even used pins to mark where battles were or where their boys were stationed. Names like Corregidor, Midway, Guadalcanal, and Normandy were places now known in every household. Bob had always said it was a terrible way to learn geography. Andy agreed.
“Say, Andy, maybe you know where it’s at,” Bob suggested.
All gazes turned to Andy and the room went silent. Only the steady tick-tock of the clock could be heard. Andy didn’t know what to do or say.
“I . . . umm . . .”
“Well, do you know where it’s at or not? Don’t they tell you nothin’ over at the telegraph office?” Ralph questioned.
“Simmer down, Ralph,” Bob said as he turned his attention back to Mr. Harrison. “I’m sure they don’t just hand out that kind of information. You have to worry about spies and such. No sir, you can’t just be telling everybody that kind of thing.”
“Say, isn’t it that place where the Nazis went through when they invaded France in 1940?” Mr. Harrison finally piped up.
“It’s not an invasion,” Grandpa Hurley threw out, stomping his cane emphatically. “Reconnaissance in force.”
Bob completely ignored the old man. “So is that where it’s at, Andy?”
Andy felt his face grow hot as they all looked again to him for answers.
Ralph shook his head. “Seems like he oughta know since he’s delivering telegrams.”
Andy couldn’t take any more. He got up and left the shop, barely remembering to grab his coat and hat. His haircut could wait for another day.
But the war wouldn’t wait for anyone. The next day Andy found himself at work once again, trudging through new snow, taking the word to the townspeople. He dreaded his next delivery. Looking down at the letter in his hand, he grimaced.
Mr. William McGovern
This was the second telegram, and Andy had forgotten to ask if anyone remembered whether it was good news or bad. Dread settled over Andy. He climbed the steps to the McGoverns’ and stopped in front of the wreath-decorated door. He took a deep breath and thought of Mrs. Nelson’s words of encouragement.
“Your job is very important,” she’d said. “Whether the news is good or bad, not knowing is far worse. In the long run, folks will be glad to know.”
Andy knocked three times and stepped back. It was nearly five o’clock and he knew Mr. McGovern would be home. Seconds ticked by and still Andy waited. He looked at the missive in his hand and then to the banner that hung in the front window. The blue star seemed dull, almost washed out.
The door opened and Mr. McGovern met Andy’s gaze through the screen. “Evening, Andrew.” He pushed open the screen and reached out for the letter.
Andy handed it over, unable to move. “Evening.”
The older man looked at the envelope. He slowly tore it open and pulled out the telegram. Andy waited, watching and hoping. He didn’t really understand why it was so important to know.
Mr. McGovern’s eyes filled with tears. Andy’s hopes faded and he turned to go.
“Wait, Andrew. It’s good news. They’ve found Kyle and although wounded, he’s alive.”
Andy turned back.
“I don’t see Ardennes on the map,” Ralph announced, obviously feeling somewhat important, “but from what I’ve heard it’s in Belgium.”
“Reconnaissance in force,” said Grandpa Hurley suddenly. The man was of few words, but when he spoke, people listened.
“What’s that, Gramps?” Bob asked.
“The Germans.” He paused and looked at them as if those two words said it all. “Like old J. E. B. Stuart did at Gettysburg. It’s a ruse to throw us off and test our lines.”
They all nodded knowingly.
Andy looked up at the wall map. Bob Davis had put it up in January of ’42, and it had proved to be a point of interest for anyone who wanted to know where the battles were taking place. They even used pins to mark where battles were or where their boys were stationed. Names like Corregidor, Midway, Guadalcanal, and Normandy were places now known in every household. Bob had always said it was a terrible way to learn geography. Andy agreed.
“Say, Andy, maybe you know where it’s at,” Bob suggested.
All gazes turned to Andy and the room went silent. Only the steady tick-tock of the clock could be heard. Andy didn’t know what to do or say.
“I . . . umm . . .”
“Well, do you know where it’s at or not? Don’t they tell you nothin’ over at the telegraph office?” Ralph questioned.
“Simmer down, Ralph,” Bob said as he turned his attention back to Mr. Harrison. “I’m sure they don’t just hand out that kind of information. You have to worry about spies and such. No sir, you can’t just be telling everybody that kind of thing.”
“Say, isn’t it that place where the Nazis went through when they invaded France in 1940?” Mr. Harrison finally piped up.
“It’s not an invasion,” Grandpa Hurley threw out, stomping his cane emphatically. “Reconnaissance in force.”
Bob completely ignored the old man. “So is that where it’s at, Andy?”
Andy felt his face grow hot as they all looked again to him for answers.
Ralph shook his head. “Seems like he oughta know since he’s delivering telegrams.”
Andy couldn’t take any more. He got up and left the shop, barely remembering to grab his coat and hat. His haircut could wait for another day.
But the war wouldn’t wait for anyone. The next day Andy found himself at work once again, trudging through new snow, taking the word to the townspeople. He dreaded his next delivery. Looking down at the letter in his hand, he grimaced.
Mr. William McGovern
This was the second telegram, and Andy had forgotten to ask if anyone remembered whether it was good news or bad. Dread settled over Andy. He climbed the steps to the McGoverns’ and stopped in front of the wreath-decorated door. He took a deep breath and thought of Mrs. Nelson’s words of encouragement.
“Your job is very important,” she’d said. “Whether the news is good or bad, not knowing is far worse. In the long run, folks will be glad to know.”
Andy knocked three times and stepped back. It was nearly five o’clock and he knew Mr. McGovern would be home. Seconds ticked by and still Andy waited. He looked at the missive in his hand and then to the banner that hung in the front window. The blue star seemed dull, almost washed out.
The door opened and Mr. McGovern met Andy’s gaze through the screen. “Evening, Andrew.” He pushed open the screen and reached out for the letter.
Andy handed it over, unable to move. “Evening.”
The older man looked at the envelope. He slowly tore it open and pulled out the telegram. Andy waited, watching and hoping. He didn’t really understand why it was so important to know.
Mr. McGovern’s eyes filled with tears. Andy’s hopes faded and he turned to go.
“Wait, Andrew. It’s good news. They’ve found Kyle and although wounded, he’s alive.”
Andy turned back.
Similar Books
