Kankakee Valley Post, Volume 11, Number 7, DeMotte, Jasper County, 2 January 1941 — The Homecoming [ARTICLE]

The Homecoming

By ALLISON L. BURKS

(McClure Syndicate—WNU service.»

T OOKING out the train window, Laura could see the two old people who stood on the platform. In the dim glow of the station light they looked unchanged, exactly as they had when she felt them six years ago. She lifted the child in her arms before she went down the steps of the car. “Laura!” All the way from California there had beeii a weight in Laura’s breast. Now, as her mother’s arms closed pbout her, she felt the weight miraculously dissolving. Her father took the little girl from her arms. “So this is the baby!” His voice sounded choked. A dark figure standing behind him moved closer. Ma chuckled. “You didn’t see Lew, did you, Laurie? He wanted to come with us to meet you.” “Oh, Lew!” Laura’s voice wjas a little breathless. | • The man took the slim hand she held out to him. She knew he was looking dow r n at her intently. “I’m glad you’re back, Laura,” he said quietly. * * * “It’s just the same! It’s the same!” The words were like a song ! in 1 Laura’s heart as they went into the living room. ' I Ma went upstairs with her “I put nev drapes at your winddws,” she told Laura. “How do you think Lew’s looking? He’s the only lawyer in these parts, and he’s doing fine. He’s never forgot you, Lajurie. “Of course, I know you must be grieving over your husband dying —I wish we could’a known [him, j Laurie—but now that you’re back again—” *> * * Laura sat down on the edge of 1 the plump bed. The little girl came ! close t’o her side. t ■_ l l | “Are we going to live here, Mummy?” “Yes, darling.”' She caught the child to her fiercely, staring ahead wdth eyes that w r ere suddenly hard, i Five years! She would have at least five years. Then she would have to go back. But the child would stay here. Ma add Pa weren’t really old. They would be glad to have the baby when she, Laura, was gone. For aP moment she felt the pain that parting would bring. Then she set l)er lipfc resolutely. She would have her fiv£ years in Heaven. Years ago, before she went away, she hadn’t known it was Heaven. But Jack had taught her what Hell could be. Of course, she could have divorced him. But it wouldn’t have done any good. Jack would nevef let her go. Sometimes he loved her; 1 ' more often he hated her. But he’d never let go of her. She washed the little girl’s round face and chubby hands before they! want downstairs.

Lew came into the dining-room; when he saw her there setting the table. “I hope you were a little glad to see me, Laura,” he said awkwardly. “Why, of course, Lew.” She didn’t look at him. “You don’t care if I come here sometimes? ” “The sugar bowl’s empty,” she murmured. She went toward the kitchen. She’d better tell Him. She mustn’t hurt him—not again!; Ma was at the kitchen sink, unwrapping a newspaper from around a bunch of celery. She paused, her eyes caught by an item in the printed columns. “Here’s a funny thing,’’ she said absently. “About a man John Brown. The same name as your man, Laura. In Los Angeles— Oh, well, I guess there’s a lot of John Browns in the world.” She went across the kitchen to the pantry. Laura drew the newspaper toward her. She stood very still, reading the short i-tem. John Brown, sentenced to San Quentin for robbery, was shot and killed while attempting to escape. Lew had followed Laurja into the kitchen. “You didn't answer me, Laura,” he reminded hpr. She turned to him. Her voice wss suddenly alive, vibrant. ‘‘‘Why, Lew,” she said. “I want you to come. I’ll always want you to come!” And, her hands against her face, she began to cry-