No Postage Necessary
A Collection of Short Stories
Katie Szczepaniak
Copyright 2011 by Katie Szczepaniak
Smashwords Edition
Dedication
For George and his Kate
Foreword
After reading dozens of letters written throughout the 1940’s from my Great Grandfather to my Great Grandmother, I knew I had to write their story. Yet along with this realization came my absolute inability to do so. I was overwhelmed with the daunting task of portraying a real-life love story through largely fictionalized events.
Yet freedom came as I began to write. With every detail I no doubt got wrong and every scene I independently constructed, I experienced a sense of renewed vigor for the undertaking I had attempted. These stories may not have been my own, but they were now mine to tell.
The following reflects my perspective on what might have happened, the lives George and Katherine may have lead. They are stories that once lived coming back to life once more.
Goodbyes and Birthday Cake
I wasn’t allowed near Momma’s bedside, but that didn’t stop me. Papa says the birthday girl gets whatever she wants, and I wanted to see my Momma. So I climbed the stairs and peered between the rails in search of Miss Ruth. Her slight frame was nudged in between two party guests as she scooped up empty trays from a table of well-received treats.
After making the arrangement presentable once more, Miss Ruth and her loose curls disappear into the kitchen. She came to work sporting a short do a week prior, and she hadn’t managed to stop bouncing wherever she went since. Aunt Evelyn said it was about time Ruth “bobbed” her hair, but I missed the way her wispy bun used to float through the house already.
I scurried up the rest of the staircase, knowing I was free of her watchful gaze. The lighthearted sounds from the party muffled into a drone the further I got down the hallway. Upon reaching the bedroom door, my hands made graceful strokes along the sides of my dress, smoothing it out like Momma had taught me.
“It’s her birthday, George.” My mother’s voice barely carried through the doorway. “And I can’t even attend her party.”
“She’s only five, my dear.” Papa assured, “They’ll be plenty more birthdays.”
From beside the bed, Aunt Evelyn nodded in agreement, grasping Momma’s hand as a sign of reassurance. With curtains still drawn per doctor’s orders, their faces were barely visible to me. I stepped closer to peer inside, inching the door open further.
“Well, look what we have here.” Papa said, announcing my entrance, “I spot our little Dorothy now.” Realizing I’d been discovered, a smirk appeared on my face,.
“Darling,” Momma said as she patted the bed next to her with fainted energy, “Come here and sit with your Momma, won’t you?”
My gaze shifted to Papa as I made my way to the bedside. His hair stuck up in patches right above his temples where his glasses had been removed. His collar was unbuttoned and his bowtie missing like the last time the doctor had visited. He smiled at me, but his eyes couldn’t lie as easily as the corners of his mouth.
“There you are my dear one.” Momma’s words brought my gaze back to her. “And how is my birthday girl?” She struggled to lift her arm up as I snuggled in close against her side.
“I’m lovely, and how are you?” I answered. Momma’s chuckle was her only reply. Her habitual cough swallowed up any semblance of response to my question.
“Nell, are you alright?” Aunt Evelyn asked as my Momma’s coughing continued.
I tuned the worried voice of my Aunt out and pressed my ear closer to Momma’s chest. With my side tucked snuggly against my mother’s, I could feel the vibrations of her cough. I could hear her sickness. It beat against her walls, bouncing inside of her like Miss Ruth’s new curls. But unlike Ruth’s hair, Momma’s sickness hadn’t just appeared last week.
Four months prior, it had forced her to cancel her latest trip back to England.
“The sea is no place for a sickly woman,” Papa’s voice could be heard echoing down the hallway the morning she was to depart.
I sat in my bed playing with paper dolls as Miss Ruth attempted to rid my unruly mane of the knots she assured me were quite unladylike. Their quarrel continued as I dressed for the day and ate breakfast.
Finally I heard Papa shout, “And what about Dorothy? What will become of her if the trip only worsens your illness? What do I tell her if you wind up dead?”
I heard silence for the first time that morning. A faint weeping followed. My father’s tone softened as he comforted my mother, but the words had been spoken, and they had taken residence in the dark corners of our house ever since. I could feel them in the dimly lit shadows of Momma’s room now.
Moving away from her side, I sat up to stare at Momma’s flushed face as her coughing fit finally ended. The lines which had appeared across Papa’s forehead were mirrored on Aunt Evelyn’s as both stood flanking Momma’s bedside. Aunt Evelyn took the moment to discretely wipe a stray tear from her cheek, hoping no one would notice. But her effort was in vain; I watched as another fell, deliberately replacing the first.
“I think it’s time for you to run off and play now, Dodo.” Papa said dimly. I shook my head ‘no’ and wrapped my arms tighter around Momma’s middle. But as my gaze drifted up towards Momma, she nodded in agreement.
“Now listen here my little one,” Momma finally spoke, “You have a house full of guests all here to celebrate your big day. What kind of a hostess would you be if you left them all alone downstairs?” I shrugged.
Momma continued, “Not a very good one, I would say. So why don’t you run along and rejoin the party?” I frowned a bit, but I knew better than to disobey.
“Alright.” I said, moving to the edge of the bed.
“Don’t I get a kiss from the birthday girl?” Momma asked before I managed to move too far. A smile crept back onto my face as she pulled me back to her side.
“I love you, my dear one.” Momma whispered as I wrapped my arms around her neck, “very, very much.” I kissed Momma’s cheek and scooted off the bed. Dashing to the door, I heard her add, “Now go see if Miss Ruth baked you something special this afternoon. I heard her making a ruckus in that kitchen of ours.”
I turned to face Momma one last time, smiling back at her despite the looks on everyone’s faces. Her eyes met mine and she squinted slightly, dismissing me to return back downstairs. I exited the room quietly, leaving the door a bit more open than I had found it.
With the afternoon sun beaming through the windows, the hallway looked brighter than I had left it. I heard the voices of my guests below and began racing to rejoin them, my skin warming in bursts whenever I passed underneath a section of light. I found the stairs twice as fast as I had left them and took them two at a time. When I reached the main level, the shouts from my playmates guided me back into the main drawing room.
My guests sat crowded around the floor, with no concern for the lovely dresses or slacks their parents had insisted they wear. I looked around for Miss Ruth, but her loose curls were not in sight.
“Where have you been?” Louise, the plump daughter of one of my father’s business associates, questioned. She made a show of flattening her dress as she moved towards me, but hers held the most wrinkles of anyone’s in the room.
“I was checking on my mother.” I responded shortly.
“Where is she anyway?” She questioned, “My mother says it isn’t ladylike to leave your guests unattended.”