Christmastime 1943

by Linda Mahkovec

  She shook away the sadness and determined to be cheerful. After all, it was Christmas. She was meeting Izzy and – her fiancé? She could hardly believe it. Fresh under the cheerful influence of Izzy, Lillian straightened her shoulders and smiled. She would have a wonderful time.

  By the time she arrived at the club, it was late – for her. Ten o’clock. The mood in the club had that late-night party feel; swing music filled the air, everyone moved to the music, all happy and hopeful.

  Lillian realized that she hadn’t been in such a gathering for years. The sense of excitement, of participating in the flow of life, filled her once again. She held her head high and smiled out at the crowded room. The pillars and ceiling were festooned with holiday streamers and small red poinsettias sat in the middles of the tables. Most of the men were dressed in military white, navy, or olive drab, and the women sparkled in their holiday attire. Sheer exuberance pervaded the air like a heady fragrance.

  There was Izzy on the dance floor, dancing cheek to cheek with her beau. When the couple spun around, Lillian’s smile dropped – and for a dizzying moment, Lillian thought she was seeing things. It was as if she were looking back into the past, seeing Izzy dance with Red. Then she caught a better glimpse of him – not Red, but there were some startling similarities. Archie was almost as tall as Red, had the same sandy red hair, and was handsome – but altogether different, as well. More boyish, fresh-faced.

  Izzy waved when she spotted Lillian and began to pull Archie over to her.

  “Lilly!” Izzy wove her way over to Lillian and embraced her giddily. “This is Sergeant Archibald Reynolds! Archie.”

  Lillian smiled at the flushed couple and tried to make herself heard over the music. “Hello, Archie! So nice to finally meet you.”

  “So you’re Lillian!” He gave a wide smile and clasped her hand. “I’ve heard a lot about you – couldn’t wait to meet you.”

  “Over here! Follow me,” said Izzy, pulling Archie behind her. They threaded their way single file to their table, where two other couples were sitting. They squeezed in and Izzy briefly introduced Lillian to them and to a few people at the table next to them. There was a lot of coming and going, the people at the two tables switching places as they came and went onto the dance floor.

  Archie soon had drinks ordered for them, and began talking over the music to tell Lillian about how he met Izzy in the spring, and how they were spending their time together.

  Lillian was taken with his charm and could understand why Izzy had fallen for him. He was friendly, open, and good-natured, all smiles and enthusiasm.

  Izzy tugged on his sleeve. “Red, snag the waitress and ask – ” She smacked her head at her slip of the tongue.

  Archie smiled and shrugged. “She does that all the time,” he laughed. “I told her I’m not going to propose until she gets my name right.”

  Lillian glanced at Izzy, but she was oblivious to Lillian’s look of concern.

  Izzy was in her element, now – pairing men and women with each other, introducing people who were just joining the table, laughing, her arm around Archie, dancing with him and the other men at the tables who cut in or came to ask her to dance.

  An officer from the other table returned to his seat, and was soon introduced to Lillian as Corporal Donald Conway.

  “Please. Call me Don – we’re all friends here. So you know Izzy? I haven’t seen you here before.”

  A conversation soon began, followed by a turn around the dance floor. Now and then another man would cut in and dance with her, but somehow Corporal Conway managed to end the dance and escort her back to the table. He asked all about her, and Lillian found herself talking about Charles and the boys. She reciprocated by asking him about his family and his plans for the holiday – and was somewhat surprised that such a handsome man was still unmarried.

  When she returned to the table after a few dances, Izzy took her arm and dragged her to the powder room. Lillian knew Izzy would ask what she thought about Archie and was unsure how to respond.

  “Watch out for that one,” said Izzy, gesturing to Corporal Conway who was dancing with a woman from the table next to theirs. “Don Conway – also known as Don Juan. I’ve heard rumors about him. A real seducer.”

  “Oh, Izzy. You think that about all men. He’s been the perfect gentleman.”

  “So far,” said Izzy. “The night’s young.”

  Lillian shook her head at Izzy’s insinuations.

  Inside the powder room, Izzy was unable to contain her excitement. “Well? What do you think? Isn’t Archie just perfect?”

  “He’s very nice,” said Lillian, looking in the mirror as she applied some lipstick and then blotted it.

  Izzy’s face fell. “Well, that’s a helluva way to praise someone.”

  “No, I mean it. He’s charming and funny.” Lillian looked at Izzy in the mirror and saw her disappointment.

  “I was so sure you were going to love him.”

  “He’s wonderful, Izzy. He’s a real gem. Anyone can see that.”

  Izzy crossed her arms and leaned against the counter. “But what?”

  “It’s just that – I didn’t expect him to remind me so much of Red.”

  Izzy laughed with relief. “Is that all? That’s just a coincidence.”

  Lillian didn’t want to burst Izzy’s happiness; she nodded and smiled, ready to go back out.

  But Izzy held up her hand. “Oh no, you don’t. I know when something’s on your mind.”

  “It doesn’t matter what I think. Let’s just have fun tonight.” Lillian smiled and put on her happiest face. Which didn’t fool Izzy at all.

  “Tell me what you’re thinking.”

  Lillian looked down, unsure how to phrase what she was feeling. “Well – it’s as if you’re reliving your time with Red. You go to the same places. Several times you even referred to Archie as Red.”

  “Just a slip of the tongue. I’m wild about this guy.”

  “Are you sure, Izzy? Are you sure it’s Archie you’re enamored with? Or is it the memory of Red?”

  “That’s ridiculous! Archie’s the real thing. And if he asks me to marry him, I’m going to say yes!” Izzy raised her chin, ready to refute any possible objection Lillian might raise.

  “Do you love him?”

  Izzy opened her mouth, but was unable to answer. A fleeting hint of sadness filled her eyes. Then she spun around and left in a huff.

  “Izzy, wait!” Lillian tried to catch up to her, but as soon as they got to the table, Archie pulled Izzy out onto the dance floor.

  Lillian was soon dancing again with Corporal Conway, and when they brushed by Archie and Izzy, Lillian saw that she was all smiles again. She was familiar with Izzy’s temporary flare ups, but still, she promised herself not to say anything else about Archie. What did she know? Everything these days was all confused and desperate and fragmented. She wanted Izzy to be happy. And she wanted to enjoy herself, wanted to be part of the Christmas festivity.

  The lights and gaiety, drinks and dancing, made Lillian more talkative than usual. She found herself enjoying the evening, speaking alternately with Donald Conway, Izzy and Archie, and the other people who came and went. When one of the women asked Lillian about her work with Rockwell Publishing, a conversation soon began on painting, which was quickly taken up by Corporal Conway.

  “My sister, Sally, is a painter – mostly self-taught, but she wants to pursue a degree in art.” He asked Lillian her opinion about what course of action to take to secure a job in the art field, and what her plans were for her own career.

  Lillian grew enthusiastic as she gave information to encourage his sister, and then revealed her plans to someday become a freelance illustrator. She noticed that one of the women at the next table, who danced now and then with Donald, was observing her. The woman looked on with an amused smile, more of a smirk. Lillian glanced over at the woman now and then, wondering what she meant.

  But Donald soon pulled Lillian onto th
e dance floor, and when the music shifted to a slow number, he convinced her to stay and dance with him. Once or twice, she thought his hand had too intimately stroked her back, her waist, but whenever she looked at him, he was smiling, all courtesy and gentlemanly behavior.

  The dance floor was growing more and more crowded, and they were often pressed close together. Lillian began to feel uncomfortable. She had never been at ease in crowds, and the boisterousness seemed to increase with the lateness of the hour.

  Donald pulled Lillian nearer to him, protecting her from the jostling crowd. His mouth was close to her ear in order to be heard. She thought he said something about getting away – and with a start, she leaned back and looked up at him. But he was saying what a handsome couple Izzy and Archie made, and she assumed she had misunderstood him.

  He smiled warmly and his hand slid down to her lower back.

  She pushed back from him a little. “I – I feel too warm.”

  “I can help with that,” he said, smiling. He began to lead her away, and she had to admit that she was relieved to get away from the pressing crowd.

  “Come. It’s cooler over here.” He led her to the bar, and helped her to a seat, while he ordered more drinks.

  “I think I’ll just have water. I’m so thirsty,” Lillian said, fanning herself with her hand. “It was too close out there.”

  “I agree.” He paid for their drinks, and handed her one. “This will cool you down until I can get you some water.”

  “Thank you.” She sipped the drink and looked around for Izzy. She soon spotted her on the dance floor. Izzy waved at her and then leaned her cheek against Archie’s. Lillian smiled, thankful that Izzy hadn’t stayed angry.

  Donald leaned into her and placed an arm snug around her waist.

  Lillian was taken aback by the freedom he was taking, and removed his arm. Perhaps he had had too much to drink. She would return to the table. Say goodnight to Izzy, and leave.

  Donald put his mouth to her ear and spoke in a voice full of expectation. “Why don’t you finish that and come with me. My hotel is close by. We’ll go there for a night cap.”

  Lillian’s head snapped up. “Excuse me?”

  “I can tell you want to – as badly as I do. You’re a beautiful woman, Lillian. I’d like to show you how I treat beautiful women.”

  Lillian’s stomach flipped in disgust. She sat up straight and spoke with as much control as she could muster. “I think we’ve misjudged one another.”

  She reached for her clutch and began to push off from the bar stool, but he put his arm around her, surrounding her with his body. She could feel the heat and strength and desire pouring off of him.

  “Hey, no need to be offended,” he said softly. “You wouldn’t be the first wife to find comfort while her husband’s away. It’s to be expected.”

  “How dare you!” she said, eyes ablaze.

  But he was not to be so easily put off. “Come on, you don’t have to play coy with me. I know what you want.” He leaned into her, his husky voice in her hair. “You’re so lonely and hungry I can smell it.”

  Lillian pushed him back, and stood, her eyes flashing with anger – which only seemed to amuse him, and his smile widened. In her mind she slapped him sharply – and yet it was her own cheek that burned red.

  He stood there smiling, expectant – and utterly repulsive.

  She left the bar, and made her way to the Ladies room, trembling with indignation. Once inside, she took out her powder and tried to tone down the flush in her cheeks.

  The smirking woman from the table soon followed her in. She wore a tight-fitting, gold-lamé dress and she slouched against the counter. After slowly pulling a cigarette case from her purse, she took out a cigarette, and tapped it on the case, all the while staring at Lillian.

  Lillian looked up at her, wondering if she was somehow in on it.

  “I told him not to try with you – that you were too high-minded for him. It’s written all over you – an old-fashioned kind of girl. But that just whetted his appetite all the more.”

  “Who are you?” Lillian asked, repulsed by the woman and her orange lipstick and stiff blonde hair.

  The woman looked up and down Lillian. “I hope you didn’t fall for the line about his sister Sally.” There was that smirk again.

  Lillian grabbed her clutch. As she opened the door to leave, the woman called out, snickering. “He doesn’t even have a sister!”

  Her laughter seemed to follow Lillian as she made her way to the coat check. The beating of the music and the playful melody was at odds with her sense of shame and disgust as she waited for her coat. She slipped it on, and quickly left the club.

  Lillian welcomed the slap of cold air as she pushed open the door and rushed out into the night. How dare he! What had she been thinking – why had she thought he was a gentleman? No one had ever spoken to her like that – with such crude desire and presumption.

  She put her hand to her mouth and began walking, almost running, just away. Away from everything. She stepped out into the street and flagged down a taxi, causing it to swerve to a stop.

  All during the ride home, she blamed herself for being so foolish, so naïve. He was nothing better than a rake! And that horrible woman. How disgusting! She hated them both. Why had she even gone out? She would have been better off staying at home. Knitting.

  She paid hurriedly, ran up the stairs to her apartment, and closed the door behind her, still trembling in outrage. She felt as if she had betrayed Charles. How could she have been so stupid? She threw down her coat and hat, and ran a hot bath, but the anger and sense of shame was slow to leave her. Izzy had tried to warn her, but she thought she knew better.

  Nothing is clear anymore, she thought. Everything is crumbling, everyone is so desperate – grasping at each other in their frenzied hunger. It was all so disorienting. Had she done anything to encourage his behavior? She suddenly remembered Ernest and his declaration of love just a few hours earlier. Was she perhaps unwittingly putting out some signal? Could everyone see something that she could not?

  No. Only she knew her heart. Only she knew how much she loved Charles. He was the only man on earth for her. If she had committed any mistake, it was in imaging him there with her. She had felt him with her all night, imagined his eyes on her, his hand on her shoulder.

  She stepped out of the bath, feeling that she had washed the night off of her, and slipped on a nightgown. But when she looked at the empty bed, she sank to her knees, her arms outstretched on the bed – glad that the boys were gone so that she could freely give into her wretchedness. She was unspeakably lonely. She called Charles’s name again and again, the sound of his name causing her skin to tingle with desire and sadness all mixed up together, overwhelmed at the emptiness she felt without him. Never had she felt so hopelessly hungry for his voice, his arms around her, his mouth on hers. And all she could do was cry with longing and misery. Fighting against the fear, what if – what if he didn’t come back to her? What if – he didn’t survive the war? She couldn’t bear it.

  She buried her face in her hands, and then frustrated at her weakness, she pushed off from the bed and went to the closet. She fumbled through his shirts, searching for any lingering trace of him, his cologne. Then she slipped off her nightgown, and put on one of his shirts. She wanted him desperately, missed him, didn’t know how to fill the aching void. If just once more she could hold him, breathe him in, bury herself in him.

  Then the lines from his letter came to her: Every night I look out across the black ocean and know that you are there.

  She went to the window, raised it, and looked out into the darkness, to wherever he was. From some faraway shore, was he trying to feel her, as desperately lonely for her as she was for him?

  The cold wind blew over her, chilling her, calming the fire in her blood. She peered through the night, beyond the city lights, over the dark ocean, to the place where her beloved stood and looked her way. Out into the frigid wild
air, she sent her love, her words – and as the tears grew cold on her cheeks, she closed her eyes, and felt his lips on hers. And it was real. It was not just desire and dreaming. He was with her, pressing his warm lips on hers.

  Never had she felt so connected to him; and she knew that nothing would ever come between them. They were one thing now, not two separate people. And the knowledge of that made her strong.

  She would make it through the war, would make it through the loneliness, would make it through whatever came, whatever happened. For nothing was stronger than love. She raised her chin to the cold dark night, and gently smiled – full, powerful, strong.

  Chapter 12

  *

  In the late afternoon, Jessica stood at the window, her eyes fixed on the road at the end of the lane.

  “They’re here!” she cried, waving at the old Pontiac that was turning onto the farm lane. “Mom! The Bloomfields are here!”

  “All right, all right,” said Kate, setting the last of the pies onto the table. For the past two days, she and her daughters had baked apple, pumpkin, and pecan pies for the Christmas dance, and Jessica had proudly put the finishing touches on her gingerbread house.

  Kate glanced over at her younger daughter, pleased that she was so excited. All week Jessica had been giddy with anticipation, talking about who was baking what dessert, what items were going to be raffled, and which boys from school she wanted to dance with.

  Jessica was dressed in her red and black plaid dress that she had made in November in anticipation of the dance. Her hair was curled and set off with a black velvet ribbon. And, if Kate wasn’t mistaken, there was a bit of color added to her lips. Ah well, she thought, let Jessica have her fun tonight. There was so little in the way of amusement for her daughters that she was happy the dance was going to be such a big event. Life on the farm could be lonely at times. And tonight folks from all the towns around would be there, offering a chance to catch up and hear what news and gossip everyone had. Kate was looking forward to seeing her old friend Rachel and her family, and some cousins from an hour away that she hadn’t seen since summer.