"Edwina?" Alexis looked frightened when she saw her sister's face as she walked through the front door, and carefully lifted her veil and took her hat off. "Is something wrong?" Alexis was nine years old by then, but Edwina didn't want to remind her of their own loss, and touching the child's face gently with her hand, she only shook her head, but her eyes told their own story.

"It's nothing, sweetheart." The child went back outside to play, and Edwina stood watching her for a long time, thinking of the people they had lost, and now those who had died on the Lusitania.

Edwina was quiet all day, and Phillip called her that night, knowing how she would have felt when she heard the news. "It's an ugly war, isn't it, Win?"

"How could they do a thing like that?... a pa.s.senger ship...." The very thought of it made her wince with remembered pain.

"Don't think about it." But it was impossible not to think about it. Thoughts of the t.i.tanic kept drifting into her head ... the night of the ship going down ... the screech of the lifeboats being lowered ... the wails of the people in the water as they drowned. How did one forget memories like that? When did it ever go away? She had begun to think it never would, as she lay in bed that night, thinking of her parents, and Charles, and the lives she had led with them, in sharp contrast to the life she led now, alone with the children.

Chapter 18.

SHORTLY AFTER THE LUSITANIA WENT DOWN, ITALY ANNULLED its allegiance to Germany, and declared war on Austria as well. And by September of that year, Russia had lost all of Poland, Lithuania, and Courland, as well as a million men. The Great War was taking a shocking toll, and America was still watching from the sidelines.

The following year, in 1916, the Germans and the French lost almost 700,000 men between them at Verdun alone, and well over a million men died at the Somme. The Germans continued extensive attacks with their U-boats, sinking merchant vessels and pa.s.senger ships as well as warships. It caused a tremendous hue and cry, and by then Portugal had been drawn into the war as well, and the airship raids on London continued. And in November, Wilson had been reelected, mainly for keeping the States out of the war. But all eyes were turned toward Europe as the slaughter continued.

On January 31, 1916, Berlin notified Washington that unrestricted submarine warfare had been resumed, and within two months, they announced that submarines would sink any ship bringing supplies to the Allied countries. Wilson finally took a stand within days, and although earlier he had said that there was such a thing as a nation "being too proud to fight" about the United States, he now announced that he would defend the kind of freedom Americans had always enjoyed and quite simply expected.

Edwina continued to hear from her aunt Liz, although letters were few and far between, and they were coming out of Europe by circuitous routes, but she seemed to be alright in spite of dreadful weather and terrible shortages of fuel and food. But she urged Edwina to take care, and said that she longed to see all the children. She hoped that when the war was over they would all come over and visit her, but even the thought of it made Edwina tremble. She was no longer able to take even the ferryboat to Oakland.

She went to the newspaper frequently, though, and it was always interesting to listen to the men there discussing the war news. She had made her own peace with Ben by then, and they were still close. He realized that she didn't want to marry anyone, and she was content with her life with the children. She enjoyed his friendship and his male views, and they would talk endlessly about the war, and about the problems they were having with the paper. Phillip was in his last year at Harvard by then, and Edwina was glad of it, she knew the paper desperately needed a family member to run it. The compet.i.tion was stiff, and the other papers were all run by people and families who understood the business, particularly the de Youngs, who were the most powerful newspaper family in San Francisco. And the healthy empire her father had been building for years had been powerfully affected by his absence. Five years was a long time, and it was time for Phillip to take over. And she also knew that it would be a year or two before Phillip had a good grasp on everything, but she hoped that he would be able to bring the paper back to what it once had been. Even their income had been diminished somewhat over the past two years, but they still had enough coming in for their way of life not to be affected. She was just grateful that Phillip would be coming home soon. And in the fall, George would be beginning his four-year stint at Harvard.

But on April 6, the United States finally entered the war, and Edwina came home from her monthly meeting at the newspaper, looking sober. She was worried about the boys, she had talked to Ben for a long time about what it would mean for them, and their conclusion had been that for all intents and purposes Phillip and George wouldn't be affected. Phillip was in college. George was too young, and she was glad for that. All she could remember were the terrible stories she had read at her father's paper, about the staggering casualties in the course of the battles.

When she got home, Alexis told her that Phillip had called and he would call her later that night, but he never did, and Edwina forgot about it after that. Sometimes he liked to call her just to discuss world events, and although she discouraged that kind of extravagance, she was always flattered that he wanted to talk to her. She was so used to spending her days picking up dolls, and tying ribbons on braids, and scolding Teddy for leaving his soldiers everywhere that it was refreshing discussing more important topics with her older brothers. George was interested in the war too, but he was far more interested in the movies that were being made on the subject. He went to see them whenever he could, and took any one of his innumerable girlfriends with him. It always made Edwina smile, just watching him, it reminded her a little bit of her own youth, when the most important thing in her life had been going to parties and b.a.l.l.s and cotillions. She still went from time to time, but it was all different without Charles, and no one else had ever mattered to her. Nearly twenty-six, she was content with the life she led, and she had no interest in finding a husband.

George scolded her sometimes about going out. He thought she should go out more. He still remembered how it had been "before," with their parents dressed up and going out, and Edwina wearing beautiful gowns when she went out with Charles in the evening. But when he talked about it, it only made Edwina sad, and her younger sisters would clamor and beg to see the gowns she'd worn, but the prettiest ones were long since put away, if not entirely forgotten. Lately she wore more serious things, and sometimes she even wore some of her mother's gowns. They made her look more like a young matron.

George asked her, "Why don't you go out more?" but she insisted that she went out quite enough. She'd been to a concert only the week before, with Ben and his new lady.

"You know what I mean." George looked annoyed, he meant with men, but that was a subject she didn't choose to discuss with her brother. They had mixed feelings about it anyway. In some ways they thought she should have more fun, and in others, they were possessive about her. But Edwina didn't want a man in her life anyway. She still dreamed of Charles, although, after five years, the memories were a little dim now. But in her heart, she still felt as though she belonged to him, and she hated the whispers, and the things people said when she overheard them ... tragic ... terrible ... poor thing ... very pretty girl ... fiance went down on the t.i.tanic, you know ... parents too ... left to bring up the children. She was too proud to let them know she cared, and too sensible to care if anyone called her a spinster. But she was, she knew. At twenty-five, she didn't let herself care, and she insisted that it didn't matter. That door was closed for her now, that part of her life definitely over. She hadn't even looked at her bridal veil in years. She couldn't bear the pain of it anymore. She doubted if she would ever look at it again, but it was there ... and it had almost been ... that was enough ... and perhaps one day it would be worn by Alexis or Fannie on her wedding day ... in memory of a love that had never died, and a life that had never been. But there was no point thinking about it now. She had too many other things to do. She wondered then if Phillip would call again, to discuss the fact that the United States had entered the war, but in spite of his promise to Alexis when he'd called earlier that day, he didn't.

George came home full of talk about it, though, and several times expressed regret that he wasn't old enough to go, much to Edwina's chagrin, and she told him as much, which he felt was extremely unpatriotic.

"They're looking for volunteers, Win!" He frowned at her, noticing in spite of himself as he always did, that she was even more beautiful than their mother had been. She was tall and graceful and thin, with long shining black hair that she wore straight down her back sometimes when she wasn't going anywhere. It made her look like a very young girl, unlike the more serious hairdos she wore when she was going downtown, or to meetings at their father's paper, or to a dinner party in the evening.

"I don't care if they are looking for volunteers." She glared pointedly at him. "Don't get any ideas into your head. You're too young. And Phillip has a paper to run. Let someone else go to the war, it will be over soon anyway." But there was no sign of it, as millions continued to fall in the trenches in Europe.

Five days after Congress had declared war, Edwina was walking in from the garden with an armful of her mother's roses, when she suddenly looked up and her face went deathly pale. Standing in the kitchen doorway looking handsome and tall, and with a painfully serious face, was her brother Phillip. She stopped where she was and walked slowly toward him, afraid to ask why he was there, why he had come all the way from Boston. She only dropped the roses on the gra.s.s next to her, and hurried into his open arms and he held her for a long time. It was odd to realize how grown up he was now. He was twenty-one years old, and unlike Edwina, he looked much older. The responsibilities he'd shouldered in the past five years had left their mark on him, as they had on Edwina, too, but although she felt them, she didn't show them.

"What is it?" she asked slowly, as she pulled away from him, but a terrible pain in her heart told her what she didn't want to know, but already suspected.

"I came home to talk to you." He wouldn't have done anything that important without consulting her. He respected and loved her too much not to ask her opinion, if not her permission.

"How did you manage to leave school? It's not your holiday yet, is it?" But she already knew, she just didn't want it to be what she feared. She wanted him to tell her it was something else, anything, even that he had been thrown out of Harvard.

"They gave me a leave of absence."

"Oh." She sat down slowly at the kitchen table and for an instant, neither of them moved. "For how long?"

He didn't dare tell her. Not so soon. There was so much he wanted to say to her first. "Edwina, I have to talk to you ... can we go in the other room?" They were still in the kitchen, and Mrs. Barnes was rustling somewhere in the larder behind them. She hadn't seen Phillip since he'd come in, and he knew that once she did, there would be a big fuss and he wouldn't be able to talk to Edwina.

Edwina said not a word and walked solemnly into the front parlor. It was a room where they seldom sat, except when they had guests, which wasn't often. "You should have called before you came home," she reproached him. Then she could have told him not to come home at all. She didn't want him to be here, didn't want him to look so grown up and as though he had something terrible to tell her.

"I did call, but you were out. Didn't Alexis tell you?"

"Yes, but you never called again." She felt tears sting her eyes as she looked at him. He was still so sweet and so young, despite his serious airs and his almost grownup ways, and the polish he'd acquired at Harvard.

"I took the train that night. Edwina." He took a quick breath. He couldn't avoid it any longer. "I've enlisted. I leave for Europe in ten days. I wanted to see you first, to explain...." But as he said the words, she stood up, and walked nervously around the room, wringing her hands, and turning to glare at him.

"Phillip, how could you? What right did you have to do that, after all we've all been through? The children need you so much ... and so do I ... and George will be gone in September ..." There were a thousand good reasons she could think of why he shouldn't go, but the simplest one was that she didn't want to lose him. What if he got hurt, or died? The very thought of it made her feel faint. "You can't do that! We all depend on you ... We ... I ..." Her voice trailed off and tears filled her eyes as she looked at him and then turned away. "Phillip, please don't ..." she said in m.u.f.fled tones, and he walked toward her and gently touched her shoulder, wanting to explain it to her, but not entirely sure that he could.

"Edwina, I have to. I can't sit over here, reading about battles in the newspapers, and still feel like a man. I have an obligation to do my duty now that this country is at war."

"Nonsense!" She spun around to face him, and her eyes flashed just as their mother's would have years before. "You have an obligation to two brothers and three sisters. We've all been waiting for you to grow up, and you can't run out on us now."

"I'm not running out on you, Win. I'll be back. And I promise, I'll make it up to you then. I swear!" She had made him feel guilty for deserting them, and yet he felt that he owed his country something more. And in his heart, he knew that their father would have approved of his going. It was something he had to do, no matter how angry it made Edwina. Even his professors had understood it at Harvard. To them, it was merely part of being a man. But to Edwina, it was a kind of betrayal, and she was still crying and looking angrily at him, as George rushed through the front door a little while later.

He was about to dash past the front parlor, as he always did, and then he caught a glimpse of his sister, head bowed, her long dark hair cascading down her back, as it had been in the garden when she dropped the roses, and he couldn't see his brother from where he stood near the door.

"Hey, Win ... what's up?... something wrong?" He looked startled and she turned slowly to face him. He had a stack of books in his arms, and his dark hair was ruffled, he looked healthy and young, and his cheeks were warm from the spring air. But as he looked at her with concern, his brother took several steps toward him. George saw him then, and looked even more worried by what he saw in his eyes. "Hey ... what's wrong?..."

"Your brother has enlisted in the army." She said it as though he had just murdered someone, and George stared at him, not sure what to say. And then his eyes lit up, and for a moment he forgot Edwina, as he took a step toward his older brother and clapped him on the shoulder.

"Good for you, old man. Give 'em h.e.l.l!" And then he rapidly remembered Edwina. She took an angry step toward them both and tossed back her long hair with a vengeance.

"And what if they give him h.e.l.l, George? What if they do it to him? What if they kill him? What then? Will it be so exciting then? Will you be as pleased? And what will you do then, go over there and 'give 'em h.e.l.l' too? Think of it, both of you. Think of what you're doing. Think of this family before you do anything, and what you'll be doing to all of us when you do it." She swept past them then, and turned with a last anguished look at Phillip, and she spoke in an iron voice. "I won't let you go, Phillip. You'll have to tell them it was a mistake. But I will not let you." And with that she slammed the door and hurried upstairs to her own room.

Chapter 19.

"WHY DID PHILLIP COME HOME?" ALEXIS ASKED WITH curiosity as she combed her doll's hair. "Did he flunk out of school?" She was interested, as were Fannie and Teddy, but Edwina refused to discuss it with them as she served breakfast the next morning.

The two boys had gone out to dinner the night before, to their father's club, and she knew they had met Ben, but she had not spoken to Phillip since the previous afternoon.

"Phillip decided he missed us, that's all." She spoke very seriously, and offered nothing further. And as they watched the look on her face, even Teddy knew that something was wrong that she wasn't saying.

She kissed them all before they left for school after breakfast, and she walked out to the garden then, and picked up the roses she had dropped the day before on the lawn when she first saw Phillip. She had forgotten all about them, and they were more than a little wilted, but they seemed so unimportant now. Everything did, in light of what Phillip had told her. She didn't know what she could do, but she knew she was going to do everything she could to stop him. He had no right to go away and leave them like that, and more importantly, risk his life. She took the roses into the house, and she was thinking about calling Ben to discuss it with him, when George walked into the room. He was late for school, as he always was, and she looked up and was about to scold him, but the look in his eyes told her it was too late for that. Like Phillip, he was almost a man now.

"Are you really going to try and stop him, Win?" The words were spoken quietly, with a sad look. It was as though he knew she had already lost, but he understood it all better, because he was a man and she wasn't.

"Yes, I'm going to try and stop him." She put the roses in a vase with a certain vehemence and then looked up at him with grief and anger. "He had no right to do that without asking me first." And she wanted to be sure that George also got that message. She wasn't going to tolerate either of them doing that, and George was just impulsive enough to try and follow his older brother into the war in Europe.

"You shouldn't do it, Win. Papa wouldn't approve of your stopping him. He believed in standing up for what you believe in."

Her eyes pierced into his like darts and she didn't mince words. "Papa isn't here anymore," she said harshly, and George realized that she had never been that blunt about it before. "Papa wouldn't want him leaving us alone either. Things are different now."

"You have me," he said gently, but she only shook her head.

"You're going to Harvard next year." He had already been accepted and he was following the family tradition, and it wasn't that she was trying to hang on to them, but she didn't want them to get killed. "Don't get involved in this, George," she warned, "this is between me and Phillip."

"No, it's not," he said, "it's between him, and him. It's up to Phillip to stand up for what he believes in. You wouldn't want him to be less than that, Win. He's got to do what he thinks is right, even if it hurts us. I understand that, and you have to too."

"I don't have to understand anything." She spun around so he wouldn't see the tears in her eyes, and spoke to him over her shoulder. "Go on, now, you'll be late for school."

He left reluctantly, just as his brother came downstairs and whispered to George across the main hallway. "How is she?" They had talked about it long into the night, and there was no doubt in Phillip's mind. He had to go.

"I think she's crying." George whispered back, and smiled as he saluted his brother and flew out the front door. He would be late for school, as usual, but it didn't matter anymore. School was almost over. He was going to graduate from Drew School in six weeks, and he was off to Harvard in September. And to him, school was a place where you made friends, and chased girls, and had a good time before you went home to your family and ate dinner. He had always liked school, but he had never been the serious student that Phillip was. He was sad, too, that his brother was going to war, but he was certain that Phillip was doing the right thing, and equally so that Edwina was wrong. Their father would have told her so, had he been alive, but unfortunately he wasn't. And Phillip was no longer a little boy.

He tried to tell her that himself a little while later in the garden, but she was furiously pulling weeds, and pretending not to hear him, and then finally she turned to him with tears running down her cheeks, and with the back of her hands, pushed the hair back from her face.

"If you're not a child anymore, then act like a man and stand by us. I've held on to that d.a.m.n paper for you for five years, and what do you expect me to do now? Close the doors?" The paper had nothing to do with it and they both knew it. All she really wanted to tell him was that she was scared. So scared that she couldn't bear the thought of him leaving, and she would have done anything in her power to stop him from going to the war in Europe.

"The paper will wait while I'm gone. That's not the point and you know it."

"The point is ..." She started to justify herself again, but this time the words failed her. She couldn't go on, as she turned and saw the look on his face. He looked so strong and so young, and so d.a.m.n hopeful. He believed in what he'd done and he wanted her to believe in it too, for him, but she just couldn't do it. "The point is ..." she whispered as she reached out to him and he went to her, "... the point is I love you so much," she sobbed, "... oh, please, Phillip ... don't go ..."

"Edwina, I have to."

"You can't ..." She was thinking of herself, and Fannie and Teddy, and Alexis. They all needed him so much. And if he left, they would have only George. Silly George of the endless mischief, the tin cans tied behind horses, the cranks "borrowed" from motorcars, the mice let loose in cla.s.srooms ... the sweet face that kissed her at night, the arms that always hugged Fannie ... the boys they had been, and no longer were... and in the fall, George would be gone too. Suddenl everything was changing as it had once before, except that the children were all she had left now and she didn't want to lose them. "Phillip, please ..."

Her eyes begged and he looked at her unhappily. He had come all the way to California to tell her, and he had half expected this, but it was so painful for all of them. "I won't go without your blessing. I don't know how I'd get out of it, but if you really mean what you say, if you can't manage without me, then I'll have to tell them I can't go." He looked heartbroken as he said it, and the look in his eyes told her there was no choice. She had to let him do it.

"And if you don't go?"

"I don't know...." He looked sadly around his mother's garden, remembering her, and the father they had loved, as he looked back into his sister's eyes. "I think I'd always feel that somehow I had failed them. I have no right to let someone else fight this war for us. Edwina, I want to be there." He looked so sure, and so calm, it broke her heart just to see him. And she didn't understand the lure of war for men, but she knew that he had to go with it.

"Why? Why do you have to be the one?"

"Because even though to you I'm still a child, I'm a man now. Edwina ... that's where I belong."

She nodded silently and stood up, shaking out her skirt and dusting her hands off, and it was a long moment before she looked up at him again. "You have it then." She sounded solemn and her voice was shaking, but she had made up her mind, and she was glad he had come home to tell her. If he hadn't, she would never have understood it. And she wasn't sure she did now, but she had to respect him. And he was right. He was no longer a boy anymore. He was a man. And he had a right to his own principles and opinions.

"What do I have?" He looked confused, and suddenly surprisingly boyish as she smiled at him.

"You have my blessing, silly boy. I wish you wouldn't go, but you have a right to make up your own mind." And then her eyes grew sad again. "Just be sure you come home."

"I promise you ... I will ..." He threw his arms around her and hugged her close, and they stood that way for a long time, as Teddy watched them from an upstairs window.

Chapter 20.

THE TWO OLDEST BOYS HAD TALKED FOR HOURS THE NIGHT before, as Phillip packed some of his things, and told George he could take anything of his he wanted to Harvard, and it had been long after midnight when they went downstairs and decided to have something to eat in the kitchen.

George talked animatedly, waving a chicken leg, and wished him G.o.dspeed, and then teased him about the girls he would meet in France, but that was the last thing on Phillip's mind.

"Be easy on Edwina," he urged, and then reminded George not to go wild when he got to Harvard.

"Don't be silly." George grinned as he poured a beer for himself and his older brother. All of Phillip's bags were packed, and they had nothing left to do until morning. They could talk all night if they wanted to, and George knew that Edwina wouldn't have minded if they stayed up all night, or even got drunk. As George saw it, they had a right to.

"I mean it," Phillip said again. "It's been hard on her having to take care of all of us for all these years." It had been exactly five years since their parents had died.

"We haven't been so bad." George smiled as he sipped the beer, and wondered how his brother would look in a uniform. When he thought about it, he envied him and wished he were going with him.

"If it weren't for all of us, she might be married to someone," Phillip said pensively. "Or maybe not. I don't think she's ever gotten over Charles, maybe she never will."

"I don't think she wants to get over him," George said. He knew his older sister well, and Phillip nodded.

"Just be good to her." He looked lovingly at his younger brother as he set his own gla.s.s down, and then as he tousled George's hair, he smiled. "I'll miss you, kid. Have a good time next year."

"You too." George smiled, thinking of his brother's adventures in France. "Maybe I'll see you over there sometime."

But at that Phillip only shook his head. "Don't you dare. They need you here." And his eyes said he meant it, as George nodded at him with a sigh of envy.

"I know." And then, looking unusually sober for him, "Just be sure you come back." It was what Edwina had said too, and silently Phillip nodded.

The two brothers walked upstairs arm in arm, shortly after 2:00 A.M., and the next morning, everyone was ready and waiting when they came down to breakfast. Edwina had made their breakfast herself, and she looked up and smiled at the two boys, looking tired from the night before, and their long hours of talking in the kitchen.

"Did you get to bed late last night?" she asked, pouring coffee for both as Fannie stared at Phillip. She couldn't believe he was leaving them again, and this time she knew that Edwina wasn't happy about it.

They were all going to the station to see him off, and there was an aura of false gaiety as Edwina drove them through town in the Packard.

There were other boys like him waiting at the station for the train. Many had enlisted in the past few days. It was only nine days since the United States had entered the war. And for Alexis it was a sad and special day, it was her eleventh birthday. But it was a doubly sad day for her, because Phillip was leaving.

"Take care of yourself," Edwina said softly as they waited for the train, and George cracked an endless series of old jokes. They kept the younger children distracted anyway, and Edwina suddenly felt an arrow pierce her heart, as in the distance, they heard the train begin to wail as it approached them.

It swept into the station then, and George helped him carry his things, as the younger children waited with sad eyes and unhappy faces.