Free A Cup of Tea: A Novel of 1917 by Amy Ephron

them.

 
    S omeone in the crowd began to sing “Over There.” And it was picked up by one of the soldiers on the boat. There were women holding children, wiping their eyes with handkerchiefs, waving miniature American and Allied flags that had been mounted on small sticks, trying to appear brave.
    It was the first deployment of U.S. troops to Europe. Three military transport ships were leaving and it seemed as if half of New York had turned out. A huge crowd had gathered on the pier. And, off to the side, a splinter group protesting the United States’ involvement. There were a number of police, uniformedofficers on foot and on horseback, to lend support and quiet the crowd, if need be. Rosemary had gone with Philip to the Hudson Dock to see him off. She took Jane with her so that, after he left, she wouldn’t have to be alone. Rosemary was never very good in crowds. She always tried to stand a safe distance from everyone as though being part of a community interest would somehow make her common. She was not at ease with public displays of emotion, of which there were many that afternoon.
    Since Philip was an officer and Rosemary behaved like she was titled gentry—they were, after all, one of those New York couples—the crowds parted to let them pass. Rosemary held on to Philip’s arm tightly, as if she could never let him go. Nothing had seemed as real as this. The lobby of the Plaza had been filled, the morning after their wedding night, with soldiers—but that had seemed to Rosemary almost as if it was staged. She had been right—one night at the Plaza and best efforts not to appear petulant about it.
    They had moved in with her father for Philip’s remaining two nights in town. Did she intend for them to live at her father’s house forever? They hadn’t really had the conversation. It made sense for Rosemary to stay on 9th Street while Philip was at war but when he returned…shouldn’t they establish theirown residence, begin to have their own life, or did she expect that he would fit in neatly into hers?
    She packed for him. What did you pack for someone when you were sending them to war? Stationery which she’d had engraved with just his name and no address, a quill pen, a thin volume of Yeats’s “The Green Helmet and Other Poems,” a bedside clock which he thought was sweet but almost comical. A wristwatch perhaps with a second hand for precise movement of military operations but that would be regulation-issue. He couldn’t imagine unpacking his clock each night after he’d undone his bedroll—how like Rosemary to try to decorate his bedsite, as if there would be any vestige of civilization in a trench. He teased her that perhaps she could figure out a way to pack a bedside table.
    Rosemary was standing just to the side of the gangplank as Philip walked up it to board the ship. He leaned over as he passed her. She reached her hand up to his. Their lips could not quite reach.
    The crowd swelled closer to the boat, as if everyone wanted to hold on to whoever it was that was leaving them. And in their number, way in the back of the crowd, stood Eleanor Smith, partly hidden by a hat with a veil that shaded her face. She watched as Philip reached down and touched Rosemary’s cheek. Shewanted to touch him. She wanted to be able to kiss him goodbye. She imagined what it would be like to be “the other woman” in mourning without a recognized outlet for grief and she was reminded again of how nothing in her life had been legitimate except her feelings for Philip.
    Say a prayer.
    The departing soldiers continued to sing. They were joined by the people in the crowd.
    Neither Philip nor Rosemary sang. The only expression on Philip’s face was to blink quickly as he looked down at Rosemary. Jane caught Rose’s arm and held it.
    The crowd continued singing. As Rosemary and Jane watched Philip walk up to the deck and in that moment become indistinguishable from the other soldiers in uniform, Rosemary