After the Parade Read online

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  WARNER BOOKS EDITION

  Copyright © 2000 by Dorothy Garlock

  All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without permission in writing from the publisher, except by a reviewer who may quote brief passages in a review.

  Cover art by Franco Accornero

  Warner Books, Inc.

  Hachette Book Group

  237 Park Avenue

  New York, NY 10017

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  www.HachetteBookGroup.com

  A Time Warner Company

  The Warner Books name and logo are trademarks of Hachette Book Group, Inc.

  First eBook Edition: April 2000

  ISBN: 978-0-446-54877-9

  Contents

  Books by Dorothy Garlock

  Dedication

  Epigraph

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Chapter Thirteen

  Chapter Fourteen

  Chapter Fifteen

  Chapter Sixteen

  Chapter Seventeen

  Chapter Eighteen

  Chapter Nineteen

  Chapter Twenty

  Chapter Twenty-one

  Chapter Twenty-two

  Chapter Twenty-three

  Chapter Twenty-four

  Chapter Twenty-five

  Chapter Twenty-six

  Chapter Twenty-seven

  Chapter Twenty-eight

  Chapter Twenty-nine

  Epilogue

  Preview for The Edge of Town

  “Did you find someone else?”

  The words seemed to be snatched out of him.

  She saw that he was waiting for an answer to his question, and her mind was too confused to tell him anything but the truth.

  “No. I didn’t have time for anything but work.”

  “You wouldn’t have to do much looking. There must have been plenty of 4Fs and draft dodgers working at the plant.”

  “They did their job too. They built the planes that helped end the war.”

  There was silence while he lit another cigarette. He was still wearing his wedding ring! She could feel her heart beating through her fingertips and spoke before she thought.

  “You’re wearing your wedding ring.”

  “I’m still married. Where’s yours?”

  “When you pick up a Dorothy Garlock, you expect the very best, and that is what you get.”

  —Heartland Critques

  ACCLAIM FOR DOROTHY GARLOCK’S HEARTFELT BOOKS SET IN THE 1930s

  WITH HOPE

  “A warm and satisfying love story.… Garlock launches a promising trilogy of novels set during the Great Depression.… This difficult, dynamic time comes alive in her hands…always likable characters drive the plot of this vividly depicted romance.”

  —Library Journal

  “Garlock puts life into a wonderful group of characters that simply grow on you as the pages pass…a most enjoyable read”

  —Southern Pines Pilot (NC)

  “Excellent characterizations bring the story to life and make you wish that the second book in this series would be released in just a month or two.”

  —Rendezvous

  “Garlock tackles Depression-era Oklahoma with wit, freshness, and memorable characterizations.”

  —Publishers Weekly (starred review)

  “More than just the poignant love story of Henry Ann and Tom, With Hope is the complex, gripping, and rich story of an entire community during the Great Depression.”

  —CompuServe Romance Reviews

  “The well-drawn 1930s rural Oklahoma setting contributes to the believability of this satisfyingly warm romance.”

  —Booklist

  WITH SONG

  “Dorothy Garlock brings alive the 1930s era…Garlock writes with an uncanny ear, and bravo to her for bringing forth this uplifting love story”

  —BookPage

  “Five stars!…A very special read…exceptional…superior…another Garlock bestseller.”

  —Affaire de Coeur

  “She writes about the era so well that you really feel you are there. This is an excellent book filled with many plot twists and turns, and plenty of secondary characters. I can hardly wait for the next book in the series!”

  —Interludes

  WITH HEART

  “A real treat for readers.… As always, Garlock serves up a meaty, intriguing story with delicious characters.”

  —Rendezvous

  “Another winner! … Unique touches and continual surprises that keep the reader enthralled and turning the pages … WITH HEART is a testament to the human spirit.”

  —Bookbug on the Web

  “An exciting and refreshing look at the 1930s … very highly recommended.”

  —Under the Covers

  “Four stars! … Combines murder and corruption with a sweet, tender love story and compelling secondary characters.”

  —Romantic Times

  BOOKS BY DOROTHY GARLOCK

  Almost Eden

  Annie Lash

  Dream River

  Forever Victoria

  A Gentle Giving

  Glorious Dawn

  Homeplace

  Larkspur

  Lonesome River

  Love and Cherish

  Midnight Blue

  Nightrose

  Restless Wind

  Ribbon in the Sky

  River of Tomorrow

  The Searching Hearts

  Sins of Summer

  Sweetwater

  Tenderness

  The Listening Sky

  This Loving Land

  Wayward Wind

  Wild Sweet Wilderness

  Wind of Promise

  Yesteryear

  With Heart

  With Hope

  With Song

  DEDICATED TO

  82ND U.S. NAVAL CONSTRUCTION

  BATTALION

  —THE FIGHTING SEABEES—

  AND IN MEMORY OF

  MY HUSBAND

  HERBERT L. GARLOCK, SR.

  WHO SERVED WITH THE 82ND IN THE

  SOUTH PACIFIC

  1943-1945

  TO A HOMECOMING HERO

  After the victory and the parade,

  After the hometown band has played,

  After the cheers and four long years,

  Can we, at last, break free of our fears?

  After the bombs and cannonade,

  After the bravery you displayed,

  After the pain and wounds that bled,

  Can you face with me what lies ahead?

  I stand and I wait and I long for a sign.

  The love you once gave, will it still be mine?

  Can we recapture the passion mislaid?

  Will you come back to me, after the parade?

  —F.S.I.

  Chapter One

  OCTOBER 15, 1945

  RAWLINGS, OKLAHOMA

  “Hurrah for the flag of the free.

  May it wave as our standard forever.

  The gem of the land and the sea,

  The banner of the right—”

  The
Rawlings high-school band, decked out in full uniform and lined up beside the platform at the depot, played with gusto John Philip Sousa’s “Stars and Stripes Forever.” A crowd of a hundred or more had gathered to greet a group of the men who had fought to keep them free. When the huge WELCOME HOME banner that stretched across the front of the depot was loosened by the wind, willing hands hurried to hold it in place.

  The gigantic engine, belching smoke, whistle blasting, wheels screaming against the rails, slowly passed the station and came to a jerking halt. There was a sudden expectant quiet. The conductor stepped down from the coach and stood with his hands clasped in front of him.

  When the first of the weary war veterans, a surprised Marine, came through the door, the music from the band mingled with the cheers of the crowd and the horns of the cars parked along the street. The Marine stood hesitantly before he bounded down the steps, swung the heavy duffel bag from his shoulder to the platform, and was soon surrounded by laughing and crying relatives.

  At the back of the crowd, Kathleen Dolan Henry watched six more veterans alight from the train. All were greeted by loved ones. She waited anxiously for her first glimpse of Johnny Henry in more than four years. When someone waved a flag in front of her face, she hurriedly brushed it away just as a tall sailor, his white hat perched low on his forehead, a duffel bag on his shoulder, stepped down and stood hesitantly on the platform. His eyes searched the crowd. There was a sudden hush, then the band began to play the Civil War song they had practiced for a month.

  “When Johnny comes marching home again, hurrah, hurrah.

  We’ll give him a hearty welcome then, hurrah, hurrah,

  The men will cheer, the boys will shout,

  The ladies, they will all turn out,

  And we’ll all be gay, when Johnny comes marching home.”

  The band stopped playing and the crowd took up the chant: “Johnny, Johnny, Johnny—”

  The hero of the small Oklahoma town had come home from the war.

  Johnny Henry was stunned. At one time the people of this town had blamed him for bringing disgrace and death to one of their own. Now they were cheering him.

  Everyone had heard how Johnny Henry, on an island in the Pacific, had lifted the blade of the bulldozer he was operating and, amid a shower of gunfire from the Japanese entrenched on the beach, had driven it straight toward an enemy machine-gun nest that was preventing his platoon from building a landing site. The powerful dozer had buried the men and their guns inside the concrete structure, permitting the large-scale landing that had secured the island.

  Johnny grinned at the young girl who dashed up to take his picture, waved to acknowledge the crowd, then walked slowly toward a small group at the end of the platform. His father, Barker Fleming, his black hair streaked with gray, stood with his arms folded across his chest, his Cherokee pride preventing him from showing emotion. The lone tear that rolled from the corner of his eye was seen only by his daughter, who stood by his side.

  Kathleen watched as Johnny shook hands with Barker and his young half brother, Lucas. He said something that drew a laugh from his older half sister, and he patted the younger one on the head. As proud as she was of him and thankful that he had survived the war, Kathleen couldn’t force her feet to carry her to the platform and greet him with all the town looking on. Feeling vulnerable, knowing that some in the crowd were watching her, she hurried off down the street to watch the parade from the window of the Gazette office.

  Beneath the brim of a brown felt hat a pair of ice-blue eyes watched Kathleen with keen interest as she watched her husband step off the train. Noting with satisfaction that she didn’t go to meet him, the man, his face darkened by a week’s growth of whiskers, casually moved away from the cluster of people at the depot and slowly followed her down the street.

  At the war’s end, two months earlier, Kathleen had been working at the Douglas Aircraft plant in Oklahoma City. The front page of the August 15,1945, Daily Oklahoman had screamed the news.

  JAPS QUIT, WAR IS OVER

  TRUMAN TELLS OF COMPLETE SURRENDER.

  WASHINGTON, August 14. The Second World War, history’s greatest flood of death and destruction, ended Tuesday night with Japan’s unconditional surrender. From the moment President Truman announced at 6 A.M., Oklahoma time, that the enemy of the Pacific had agreed to Allied terms, the world put aside for a time woeful thoughts of cost in dead and dollars and celebrated in wild frenzy. Formalities meant nothing to people freed at last of war.

  Tears had filled Kathleen’s eyes, overflowed, and rolled down her cheeks. Brushing them away, she hurriedly scanned headlines.

  DISCHARGE DUE FOR 5 MILLION IN 18 MONTHS.

  Another headline made her smile.

  OKLAHOMA CITY CALMLY GOING NUTS!

  Johnny would be among the first to come home because of the time he had spent in the combat zone. Kathleen thought of the ranch outside of Rawlings where, for a while, she had been happier than she had ever imagined she would be and where, later, she had sunk into the depths of despair. She had thought that she could never go back there, but she knew that she must … one last time.

  Kathleen folded the newspaper carefully. This edition she would keep to show to her children someday…if she ever had any more. The ache that dwelled in her heart intensified at the thought of the tiny daughter she had held in her arms that night five years ago, while the cold north wind rattled the windows in the clinic and she waited for death to take her child.

  The war was over.

  Soon she would be free to leave her defense job, go back to Rawlings, tie up some loose ends, and decide what to do with the rest of her life. She was still part-owner of the Gazette. Adelaide and Paul had kept it going during the war, but they’d had to cut it from an eight-page paper down to six pages once a week.

  On that wondrous day when the war’s end was proclaimed, Kathleen had volunteered to work an extra shift in the payroll department of Douglas Aircraft. The pay was double overtime for the day. The money would come in handy when the plant closed.

  Tired after the twelve-hour shift and the long bus ride into town, she had stepped down onto the Oklahoma City street thronged with shouting and cheering people. Cowbells, horns, and sirens cut the air. Hundreds of uniformed airmen from Tinker Airforce Base and sailors from the Norman Naval Base mingled with the crowd. Total strangers hugged and kissed one another.

  “How ’bout a hug, Red?” A young sailor threw his arm across her shoulders and embraced her briefly. “You got a man comin’ home, honey?”

  “Thousands of them.”

  “Bet one of ’em can hardly wait to see ya.”

  The sailor went on to put his arm around another girl, and Kathleen stood back against a building and watched the jubilant crowd. Her eyes filled with tears, and her heart flooded with thankfulness. This celebration was something she would remember for the rest of her life.

  Vaugh Monroe’s voice came from the loudspeaker on the corner.

  “When the lights come on again, all over the world,

  And the boys come home again, all over the world—”

  Kathleen stood for a short while and listened to the music. When the next song was “Does Your Heart Beat For Me,” she felt a pain so severe that a lump formed in her throat. The last time she had been with Johnny before he went overseas, they had sat in a strained silence in a restaurant. Someone had put a coin in the jukebox, and she had been forced to listen to that song.

  Kathleen walked hurriedly on down the street to get away from the music. As she waited on the corner to catch the bus that would take her to the rooming house where she had lived since coming to .the city to do her bit for the war effort, she looked around cautiously.

  Several times during the past weeks she had seen a man standing in the shadows near the bus stop, and she had been sure he was a man from the plant, the one who had seized every opportunity to talk to her. He had not been persistent with his attentions but had offered several times to ta
ke her home.

  Not many people were leaving the downtown area, and the bus when it arrived was almost empty. After she was seated, Kathleen caught her reflection in the window and wondered if she had changed much during the war years. Her hair was still the same bright red. She had tried to tame the tight curls into the popular shoulder-length pageboy style but had given up and let it hang or wrapped it in a net snood.

  Johnny had teased her about the color of her hair, saying that since he could always spot her in a crowd, so could a bull, so she’d better carry a head scarf when she went to the pasture.

  Walking up the dark street to her rooming house, Kathleen felt…old. In a few months she would be thirty-three. It didn’t seem possible that seven years had passed since Johnny had saved her from the hijackers on that lonely Oklahoma road outside Rawlings. For a few years she had been extremely happy, then her world had fallen apart. Their baby was born with no chance to live, and Johnny’s stupid feeling that his “bad blood” was responsible had dug a chasm between them. After this length of time, she doubted it ever could be bridged.

  Kathleen had not filed for a divorce even though Johnny had asked her to during that last meeting. As his wife she had received family allotment money sent by the government. Every penny of the money had gone to Johnny’s bank in Rawlings. He would have a small nest egg to help him get started again.

  When he came home, Johnny would be free to make a new life for himself and with whomever he chose to share it. As for herself, she was sure that she would never be completely happy again, but she could, if she tried hard enough, find a measure of contentment in her work. She had stayed in contact with her editor at the pulp magazine where her stories were published. Now that he had moved on to work for a book publisher, he had suggested that she write a book. It was something she planned to do when her emotions were not so raw.

  Johnny had not expected the welcoming party and was embarrassed by it. He wished, in hindsight, that he had stayed on the train until it reached Red Rock to have avoided all this. In the back of his mind had been the hope that Kathleen would be at the station. It was stupid of him. She had probably met and fallen in love with a 4-F’er or a draft dodger while working in that defense plant in Oklahoma City.