Billie’s stomach started to ache as she walked up the steps into the house. The kitchen cupboards were standing open, and mouse dirt littered the floors and counters. What had happened? Had they moved abruptly? Her last letter from Mrs. Hofmann had not been that long ago.
She walked into the empty front room, her heels clattering loudly on the bare floor. She could still smell the smoke from Mr. Hofmann’s pipe, and it brought tears to her eyes.
Turning, she started up the steps to her room. Halfway up, she stopped. No, it’s better to remember it the way I left it with a cheerful quilt, books on the nightstand, and fresh flowers.
She stifled a sob. “Why did I ever come back? First, Grandmother and now this,” she mumbled, wiping her face with her sleeve.
Walking back to the car, she said to the driver, “I’ve seen enough. Let’s go back,” and slid inside.
At the hotel, she asked the front desk clerk if he knew the Hofmanns, and he called the manager out. A small, officious man with a pencil-thin mustache emerged from his office. “Yes, I knew them. Lovely people,” he said.
“What happened?”
“Well, he’d been sick for a long time. I guess his heart finally gave out.”
“When?” Billie whispered.
“It was, oh─” he rubbed his chin, “about five, six months ago. She didn’t last but a few months after that. Died of loneliness, I suppose.”
It felt like a knife to the heart for Billie. She mumbled her thanks and retired to her room.
The rest of the afternoon, she sat staring out the window. How could she have been so cruel and neglectful? The Hofmanns had always been there for her. And in their time of need, where was she? She was going to clubs in New York and having lunch at “21”. And what about Grandmother? Why hadn’t she gone home to see her Nookoo? She had been too busy buying new clothes and furnishing an apartment.
Lost opportunities, Billie thought, mistakes with no chance of mending.
Oh, how she wanted to talk to Max. She needed to hear his voice, have him console her or even scold her. She needed her best friend.
Several times, Billie jumped up to go to the lobby to call him, but she stopped herself. Things had been strained between them lately, and she didn’t want to bother him. He was busy with his new girlfriend. And besides, he probably didn’t even know she was out of town.
Suddenly, there was a knock on the door, and she jumped. “Yes?”
“There’s a young man downstairs for you, ma’am,” the front desk clerk said through the door.
“Oh!” she said with surprise. “Yes. I’ll be right down,” she replied.
After splashing water on her face and applying some lipstick, she started to the lobby.
The man was about thirty years old, tall and slim, with dark features. He was wearing a short leather jacket, creased trousers and holding a flat cap. Billie thought he looked Indian.
When he smiled at her, she noticed he had dimples.
“Wilhelmina Bassett?” he asked.
“Yes?”
“I’m your tutor.” He shook hands with her. “Shall we have a cup of coffee?”
“I’d like that.”
He guided her into the hotel café, and they sat down at a table by the window. It was late afternoon, and except for two women having pie at the counter, the restaurant was empty.
Billie could see the railroad depot out the window, and it too looked deserted.
“I didn’t know for sure until I saw you,” he said as he sat down, throwing his hat on the sill. “The name Wilhelmina threw me. But there’s no mistaking you, Billie Bassett.”
Billie stared at him. Suddenly, she grabbed his wrist and said, “Johnnie Kelly! Is it really you?”
“It is!”
“I haven’t seen you since we were thirteen, fourteen years old!” she exclaimed, and they laughed.
“Well, now, how have you been?” Billie asked.
“Fine, just fine. I see you’re a snazzy photographer now. I knew you’d go places.”
Billie chuckled and shrugged. “Well, I had to go to a lot of unsavory places first.” She rested her chin on her hand and smiled at him. He was still good-looking. “You and the other hired boys on the farm were my first subjects, you know.”
“Yes, I remember you fumbling with that camera. We were always showing off for you,” he replied. “I could use a cup of coffee.”
When he caught the eye of the waitress, she turned away.
“Having you as my tutor makes this so much better,” Billie said. “What about you? A career in the military?”
“Yes, but as you can imagine, this tutoring thing is on the quiet. I was sent back here under the pretense of leave.”
“My excuse is similar. I’m here to see my sick grandmother. How fickle the government is,” she said with a scowl. “They used to punish us for using our language; now they are paying us.”
“It seems to be whatever suits their purposes at the time.”
“Yes, it does.”
He smiled and signaled to the waitress again, but she still would not come over. This time, Billie noticed, but she said nothing. “Do you know about the Hofmanns?” she asked instead.
“I do.”
“I went out to the Hofmann farm this morning.”
“What did it look like?”
“It was awful seeing it abandoned.” She felt the ache return to her stomach again.
“But I have good news for you,” Johnnie added.
“What?”
“Buzz Turpin is looking into buying it. Remember him from the farm? The quiet kid, blind in one eye?”
“Of course, I do.”
“More than anything, he wants to farm. The Hofmanns would be happy if they knew he was buying the old place,” Johnnie said.
“It would really please them. Their legacy of kindness would carry on.”
“Now, down to business,” he said. “The army has leased a tiny house outside of town for you for a few weeks. It’s an old abandoned cabin on Fletcher Creek built by a logger. A crew has been out there fixing it up, so it’s livable again.”
“Why way out there?”
“They don’t want anyone hearing us working on your language. The hotel is too public. We’ll move you out there tonight, and I’ll start working with you in the morning. How is your Chippewa?”
“Rusty. I haven’t spoken it regularly in years. You’ll have your work cut out for you.”
“How many years has it been since you were fluent?”
“Since I was a child. I spoke it to my grandmother at home. I just saw her yesterday, and much of it came back to me.”
“Good.”
“Why did the military choose you, Johnnie?” she asked.
He laughed. “I imagine they couldn’t find anyone else. They knew I worked at the reservation school before I joined up. But why are you here? What’s this all about, Billie?”
She looked down. “I can’t say.”
“I understand. I won’t press you. Are you ready to go out to the cabin? I don’t think we’re going to get waited on here.”
Billie looked over at the waitress and muttered, “More of the same. They use us when they need us.”
“Yes, and I guess here they don’t need us.”
* * *
The sun was setting by the time they got out to the cabin. It was in a beautiful, but remote, setting on a wooded creek. The first thing they noticed when they walked inside was the height of the ceiling. It was extremely low, and Johnnie had to duck his head.
He started to laugh. “I can tell a topper built this cottage.”
“What’s that?”
“They’re loggers that cut off the tops of trees. They are usually tiny men and nimble for scrambling to the top.”
“So, he built a cabin to suit his size.”
“Yes, he did, and it doesn’t fit me.”
Billie noticed Johnnie had switched their language to Chippewa. He was starting to teach her
already.
She looked around the room. The crew had cleaned and painted the interior, brought in a small stove, icebox, and a few kitchen utensils. There was a table and two chairs and a braided rug on the floor. By the fireplace, they had stacked wood and several kerosene lanterns.
Billie climbed up a ladder and peeked in the bedroom. There was a single bed, a nightstand, and a chamber pot. “It looks like they thought of everything,” she said, climbing back down.
“I’ll get the ice block,” Johnnie said as Billie started putting away groceries.
After starting a fire, he asked, “Do you have something to read?”
“I always do.”
“I should have known. You’ll be all right?”
“Of course.”
“I’ll see you first thing in the morning,” he said and left.
Billie listened to his motorcar pull away. The sun was setting, and she could see the creek out the window. Birds were chattering, and she could hear a dog barking in the distance. Neighbors were within walking distance, but compared to New York City, it was very isolating and quiet. Billie was used to the sound of neighbors, cars rattling down the street, and children playing.
She sighed. “Get used to it, kid,” she said out loud. “A lot of things are going to unnerve you in the coming months.”
* * *
The next day, Johnnie returned, and they worked from sunup until sundown on language. Most of their work was conversational, so they were not confined to the cabin reading from books. They took walks, identified birds and animals, and cooked meals using daily life as a learning tool.
When it grew dark, Johnnie said, “I’ll be heading back now. Alice will be expecting me.”
Billie’s eyebrows shot up. “Are you married?”
“Not yet. But we have a baby, a little girl, named Gladys.”
“Congratulations, how old?”
“Almost a year.”
Billie wondered why he had not married but didn’t ask why. “See you tomorrow,” she said.
“Yes, first thing. We’re going to start something entirely new.”
That evening, Billie read by the light of a lantern and then retired early. She had been nervous the night before, being alone in the woods, and had not slept well.
The next day, Johnnie did start something new. He began lessons in translating. He would speak in English, and Billie would reply in Chippewa.
“This is how our lessons will be from now on.”
Billie sighed. “It’s exhausting.”
“I know, but it is what they want me to focus on. You must increase your speed, Billie. And your translations must be exact. I want you to be able to do it without thinking.”
“You are a hard taskmaster, Johnnie Kelly.”
He laughed, and she noticed his dimples again. “Who would have thought I would be teaching you anything. I was a horseshit student.”
“Obviously not in Chippewa.”
“My mother was hard on me. I guess it paid off eventually.”
The routine was the same for two weeks. They took only one Saturday off, so Johnnie could spend the day with his daughter. They spoke of many things during that time and meshed well. “You’re not like other girls,” Johnnie said one afternoon as they walked along Fletcher Creek. “You’re comfortable with men.”
Billie shrugged. “I’ve spent most of my life with men, traveling with them, working with them. My best friend is a man.”
“Max?”
She laughed. “Good lord, have I talked about him that much?”
“Yes.” He buried his hands in his pockets as he walked. “I wish Alice was my best friend. They say best friends make the best match.”
“So, will you marry her?”
He bent down, picked up a rock, and threw it into the creek. “Probably, because I love my daughter.” He turned and looked at Billie. “Remember the day we watched the otters?”
“I do.”
“I’ve thought about it a million times.”
Billie nodded and looked down.
“With all your success, you haven’t changed a bit, Billie Bassett. Not snooty or anything.”
She chuckled. “I’m glad.”
Johnnie swallowed hard. “Okay, let’s get back.”
That night, Billie thought about the day, so long ago, when Johnnie kissed her behind the laundry on the clothesline. All evening, her mind drifted back to it, and she felt guilty, as if she were cheating on someone dear to her. She started to laugh. “Catholic guilt,” she mumbled, but that was really not it.
The last day of tutoring, they built a bonfire and drank whiskey that Johnnie brought out to the cabin. “Well, did I graduate?” she asked.
“With flying colors. I think you’re ready for whatever they throw at you.” He grabbed the bottle and refilled her glass. “If I get you drunk, will you tell me where the army is sending you?”
“Not a chance.”
“Okay, okay.”
They laughed and razzed each other all evening talking about old times, swapping gossip about school, stories from the reservation, and life on the farm. They drank toasts to everyone from the Hofmanns to F.D.R. to Charles Lindberg.
But the next morning, things were different. They were both quiet as Johnnie drove Billie to the train station.
When they pulled up to the depot, she said, “I apologize for not saying much this morning. I’m a bit hung over. Are you?”
“Yes,” he replied, “but that’s not why I’m quiet.”
He got out, grabbed her bag, and set it on the sidewalk. “I can’t stay,” he said.
Billie bit her lip and nodded. “You have a talent for teaching, Johnnie. I couldn’t have asked for anyone better.” She held out her hand. “Thank you. Because of you, I’ll be safer where I’m going.”
He took her hand and squeezed it. “For years, I had you on a pedestal, Billie Bassett─” he hesitated, “and after these two weeks, I’ve realized that pedestal is just where you belong.”
Her face flushed. “Goodbye and thank you.”
“Goodbye.”
Picking up her bag, she started inside the station.
“Max is one lucky guy,” Johnnie called to her.
She turned with a smile and called back, “He’s just a friend.”
Johnnie laughed and shook his head. “Will you just marry the guy and shut up about it?”
Chapter 22
When Billie returned to work a few days later, everyone asked about her grandmother, everyone except Max. He refused to acknowledge her return until she walked past his desk in the afternoon. “Bassett?” he said. “You got time for lunch?”
Billie lifted her chin and replied, “I’m very busy, but yes, a quick lunch.”
An hour later, they were eating sandwiches at a deli around the corner.
“Why didn’t you tell me you were going out of town?” Max asked sharply.
“Next time, I’ll clear it with you,” she said stiffly.
“You couldn’t be bothered even to say hello,” he continued.
“You should have been the first to approach and ask me about my grandmother,” she countered. “Obviously, her well-being didn’t matter.”
“I overheard you talking. I knew she was fine,” he said defensively.
“What’s been wrong with you these past months, Max? You have been so crabby.”
Max threw his sandwich down and looked around the deli, clenching his jaw. Billie could tell he was just barely hanging onto his temper. “You really don’t get it, do you?”
“Am I supposed to be reading your mind? Can your new best friend read your mind?” she sneered.
“What? Are you still in high school? New best friend?”
“Just like that, you cast me off for someone else,” Billie exclaimed, her face hot with anger.
“I can have more than one best friend, you know.”
“Cannot,” she said.
“Can too,” he replied.
Angrily, they locked eyes.
Suddenly, Max started to laugh and then Billie.
“Maybe both of us are still in high school,” he said then shrugged. “The relationship with Lucille is over. She was a fling, and I had tunnel vision. I’m sorry I neglected our friendship.”
Billie looked down. “I’m sorry for being so possessive. I should have given you more room.”
“Let’s put in the past,” he said, taking a bite of his sandwich. “I’m glad your grandmother is okay.”
“Yes, she’s just getting old. It was hard going home again, Max. There were several times I almost called you.”
“I wish you had.”
“So, what’s new with you?” she asked, picking up her coffee. “Other than that torrid love affair.”
“My brother went to Germany again. He just got back last night,” he said.
“Any news?”
Max sat back and sighed. “No Elise yet. I think something funny is going on over there.”
“What?”
“I told you that she’s a chemist, right?”
“Yes.”
“Well, she’s not a corner pharmacist. She is one of the best research scientists in all of Europe.”
“Really? What does she research?”
Max shrugged. “I’m not sure, but I do know she works for Zweig Pharmaceuticals.”
Billie blew her cheeks out. “Oh, the big boys. They’re a German company, right?”
“Yes, and they have branches here. Elise has been trying to get transferred to the States, but the German government won’t let her go. They won’t let any of their top scientists go.”
“Even if they are Jewish?”
“Even if they are Jewish.”
“Do you suppose they have her working somewhere top secret?”
“That’s what we’re thinking,” Max replied.
“Good lord, with war coming.”
Suddenly, Max looked at his watch. “Say, I better get back. I have work to get done before I meet my brother tonight.”
Quickly, they finished their lunch and rushed back to the newsroom.
Once back, Billie collapsed into her desk chair with a sigh. She felt like the weight of the world had been lifted from her shoulders. Max was back in her life.
* * *
The next few weeks, Billie and Max were inseparable. One hot summer evening, they had supper with Corky at John’s of 12th Street. John’s was a small neighborhood eatery with white tablecloths, candles in bottles, and pictures of Italy on the walls. When the waiter brought a bottle of wine, Corky lit a cigarette and said, “The last time I was here, it was Prohibition.”
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