July 4, 1944. The family gathers to celebrate the Fourth on Belle Isle. After, Maria, her parents, May, and Richard return to the farm while Charlotte, Harold, Anne, and Dexter go home to Brush Park with Edith and Alan.
Two days later, Edith knows something is very wrong. She can't sleep. Alan is worried. He asks if it is Eliot. She fears that it is. She visits Charlotte's room in the middle of the night. She feels it, too.
Thomas has been watching them since leaving Saipan. He does not want to break the news to the family, but when Edith asks for him in the wee hours of the morning as she sits by the fireside, he appears.
"I don't want to know...not yet. But tell me, is this fear founded?"
"I am so sorry. Yes."
"Oh god..."
"Edith, please, let me-"
"No."
"But I saw-"
"NO."
"You do not yet want to believe it."
"Yes."
He sighs, his heart heavy, eyes downcast, "Be ready, though."
"I will. I would like to be alone."
Thomas fades. He watches Charlotte for a few moments, knowing that whenever word arrives, her world will shatter. He then goes to the farm to peer in on Maria and the children. They are blissfully unaware of what has happened, though Maria feels that something is wrong. She brushes it off, though- her husband is at war, something is always wrong.
It takes a few months for the telegram to arrive, but when it does, the world ends. Maria does not need to open the envelope to know what it says. She drops to the kitchen floor and screams. Her mother rushes in, frantic, but she cannot get her daughter to speak. Her father sees the envelope in her hand and knows what has happened. He gently pries it from her fingers and opens it.
Deeply regret to inform you that your husband, Hospital Corpsman 1st Class Eliot C C McMichael USN was killed in action in performance of his duty and service to his country. No information available at present as to disposition of remains. Temporary burial in locality where death occurred probable. You will be promptly furnished any additional information received. To prevent possible aid to our enemies do not divulge the name of his ship or station. Please accept my heartfelt sympathy. Letter follows.
He sets the letter on the counter.
May hears her mother's anguished wails and knows what has happened. She finds Richard playing in their room.
"I think Dad's dead."
Richard drops his airplane, "Why?"
"Mom's screaming in the kitchen."
"Maybe she got hurt."
"Not that kind of screaming. This is bad, Rich. Really bad."
Thomas is ready to appear to the children for the first time as a comfort when their grandfather enters and sits down with them, "It is, May. Your dad...the war got him. He's gone." Richard disolves into tears. May stares at the floor, her heart sinking. "I'm going to go tell your Grandma Edith in person. This isn't the kind of thing you say over the telephone."
"I want to come, too."
"Are you sure, May?"
"Yes."
"You're awfully calm about this."
"I've had a feeling something was wrong since July. I thought it might have happened. I'll cry later. There are things we have to do now."
He gathers Richard in his arms and cradles the boy as he flails, upset far beyond words. He carries him to the kitchen and hands him to his grandmother. May meets him at the car.
When they reach Brush Park, it is late in the evening and there is a slight chill on the air as the sun drops below the horizon. May knocks on the door and Charlotte answers.
"Miss May- what a surprise! What are you doing here?"
"May we come in, Aunt Charlotte?"
"Of course. Make yourselves at home. I'll let Mother know you're here."
"And Granddad. There's bad news." Her solomn expression tells Charlotte to hurry.
Anne meets them in the library before the others have arrived, "Bad news?"
"We're only saying this once." Her grandfather sits and watches her.
Anne pales, "That bad?" Edith and Alan hurry into the room with Charlotte and Dexter following close behind.
"May, let me tell this. You don't need to be the one to say it." She steps back, "I hate to be the bearer of bad news, but I am. We received the telegram today. Eliot's gone."
Charlotte drops to the couch and sobs. Dexter can't think and stares at the floor, tears streaming down his cheeks. Edith shakes as Alan leads her to a place beside Charlotte. Neither can keep up their resolve for more than a moment. Anne flees. May follows her. And her grandfather is left to do the best he can to offer some kind of solace to the family when he himself has not yet started to grieve. He decides that the first thing he must do is notify Harold that he needs to come home from work early. It is the rational thing to do, and reason is the only thing he can rely on to keep his own head above water.
Anne runs to the attic. She needs to be someplace safe, someplace hers, and this little corner of her grandmother's house is the corner she needs. She knows May is behind her and she leaves the attic door open for her as she drops beside Enola's trunk and cries.
May sits beside her, "I knew it was coming. I've cried about this every night for the past few months. Something just felt wrong. And now I know. Dad's dead."
"Thomas. I need to talk to Thomas. Where is he?"
"Who?"
"Thomas? Are you here?" She looks around through her tears and cannot see him.
He fades into view beside the old watchmaker's cabinet, "As always."
"Did you know?"
"Yes. Edith did not want me to tell. And so I did not."
"But it's true."
"Yes."
"Can he visit, like you?"
"No. He is at rest."
"I need you."
"And that is why I never left." He crouches down beside her. May backs away, not sure what she is seeing. He gestures for her to come close, too. "Don't be afraid. I've been a part of this family since 1901. I won't hurt you."
"What are you?"
"A ghost. Though for a little while, I was known as an imaginary friend."
"Why are you here?"
"Because I have much to atone for. Please, come. Grieve with your cousin. Your father has died. You may not think you need to cry, but you do."
He puts an arm around Anne's shoulder and she leans into him. He is a solid and as cold as he has always been. It is something that still surprises her. But it is an odd comfort. May hesitates, but then cuddles beside Anne and bursts into tears.
The girls cry until they nearly fall asleep and then they retreat to the bedroom and doze off curled together, still in their dresses. Charlotte cannot sleep and stays up in her room drawing with Dexter beside her. Harold sleeps because he has to. The trains will not stop for his mourning. And in the guest room, May's other grandfather prays for his family and for the endurance to carry them through this deep grief.
Alan can hardly fathom the loss of his son. He now knows what both his children felt not all that long ago when Little Alan and Harry died. He feels as though his heart has been ripped from his chest. Edith walks beside him to their bedroom in a daze. She has seen so much of death that she did not think it could disturb her anymore, especially given that her ghostly first husband haunts her halls. But this is different. This is the little child she raised into a bright and witty young man. And he is gone. There is a void in her life that will never be filled.
Snuggled against Alan, both of their eyes red, she can only think of one thing to say, "I should have let Thomas tell me months ago."
"It is better that we all know at the same time. Maria would never have believed you. You would have spent months grieving a loss none of us could verify."
"I know. But a telegram is so cold. I am grateful that we were told in person."
"As am I. Do you think Thomas would have told you?"
"He offered. I told him I wasn't ready."
"This is the kind of news we are never ready for."
"I know. But he's lost a son before. Maybe he has some advice on how to get through this."
"He told El...Eliot something when Alan died. That there is only one thing you can do when something like this happens. Keep living."
Edith wipes her eyes and nods, "I suppose so." She starts crying again, "I just don't now how."
Alan cries with her. And from his place unseen near the doorway, Thomas feels like crying, too.