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December 29th, 1945
After the first 30 minutes of constant hugs and a long, teary-eyed lecture from Ivy, Calvin sat on the back porch with a mug of cider in hand, and his newly-returned 17 year-old war hero.
“Son, I want you to know before I say this, I love you. But that was the stupidest thing you’ve ever done. Never do that again.” He gave his son the mug and crossed his arms as he stared into their yard. “You could’ve died.”
He heard a sigh from his son. “I know, dad. But-”
“Not buts. Alright? I’ve seen enough young men throw their lives away for something that they think is justified in some kind of way, whether it be valor, allegiance, or just for money.”
Vincent knew what his father was talking about, even if Calvin didn’t think he did. “I was only deployed for a few months. I only had to use my rifle twice!”
“That’s not the point, Vince. I’m obviously incredibly glad you didn’t, but the point is still you could’ve died, and I don’t know how I - let alone your mother - could go along if we lost another son.” He grabbed his mug back after Vincent took a few sips. “The Lord knows we’ve had enough loss… But, it was brave, and I’m proud of you. Even if it was a dumb decision, it was one you thought was right.”
A few moments of silence followed, before the younger McMurray opened his mouth. “Thanks dad.”
“Of course, bud. Now, the train to Kansas City leaves in a few hours, so we should start the drive to the station.” He grinned. “I’m sure you could convince your mother to let Miss Schmidt come along, she missed you almost as much as we did.”
Vincent’s face became a little flushed. “Daaad…”
“Oh don’t try to hide it, she looks at you the same way your mother looked at me. She’s a lovely lass, and you can’t tell me she’s the only one you told just because you’re such good friends .”
Vincent gave up fighting back and just tried to change the subject. “Before I left, I found your journal.”
Calvin’s ears perked up as he turned to him. “You did? How did you find it? I thought I hid it…”
“In your nightstand?” Vincent chuckled.
Calvin sighed. “How much did you read?
“Only a little bit-”
“Good. You know I love you, but I'd really appreciate it if you didn’t go through my stuff. Now you should get ready, we should start the drive to your grandfathers soon, the stations in Seattle and I wanna get through the pass before nightfall.” Calvin went to go back in the house and corral the family, but was stopped by his son’s paw on his shoulder.
“Dad…”
“Yes?”
“How… How did you deal with taking a life? When do all the nightmares stop? Whenever I close my eyes, I just see his face… I haven’t gotten a good night’s sleep since, and with Morton gone, it all just feels so… Fragile? I don’t know how to put it.”
After a few moments, Calvin pulled his son in for a hug. “I’m sorry you’ve had to deal with that. The truth is, it’s not something you just get used to. I still see them every now and then… There isn’t just a cure for it, but talking to your mother about all of it did help, as well as going to church, and the confessional.”
The two embraced in another quick hug, before he began to pull away once more. “You ready, son?”
“Yes sir, but before we go, could you show me where Morton’s buried..? I didn’t get to say goodbye to my little brother.”
“Of course.”