Sentimental Journey (Home Front - Book #1)

by Barbara Bretton

  Her father leaned back in his chair and laced his fingers together. “Don’t worry. I’m not looking to sell. I’m just looking for a rest.”

  Catherine’s heartbeat returned to something one step closer to normal. But the whole situation still didn’t set right with her. “A vacation,” she said, glancing over at Johnny. “Now that the travel restrictions are gone, you and Mom should take a nice long trip. I’ll hold the fort while you’re gone.”

  Johnny met her eyes and nodded. “No problem, Tom. Do a little sight-seeing, then come back and take the reins after you’re rested.”

  “You’re not listening to me, either one of you. I’m talking about a permanent change.”

  Catherine held her breath, palms wet and clammy.

  “You’ve done a wonderful job here, princess. I don’t think I could have done better.”

  She thanked him. “Johnny made all the difference,” she said honestly. `If he hadn’t come aboard to help handle the employees, we wouldn’t be in the good shape we’re in today.”

  “I know,” said her father. “That’s why I’m handing the reins over to him.”

  She leapt to her feet, not even noticing the cup of coffee that went sloshing to the floor. “No! You can’t do that!”

  Her dad’s astonishment mirrored Johnny’s. “Why not?” asked Tom. “The war’s over. You’re not going to want to come to work every day to do a man’s job. Johnny’s the logical choice.”

  Johnny started to say something, but Catherine couldn’t control her tongue. “How can you do that to me, Daddy?”

  “He saved my life,” Tom said calmly. “Now I owe him.”

  “What about me?” cried Catherine. “I’m your daughter. I saved your company. Don’t you owe me anything?”

  How could her own father take away the one good thing to come of her years of loneliness and fear? How could he not see all she had done for him?

  “Look, Tom,” said Johnny. “I don’t want to get in the middle of a family argument.” He stood and headed for the door, but her father stopped him.

  “You’re family now, too, Johnny. You have every right to be here. If you’re going to take my job, you need to hear Cathy’s objections.”

  She turned to the man she loved, her heart and soul on her sleeve. “Tell him, Johnny. Tell him he’s wrong. Tell him I should have the job.”

  “Don’t go making any mistake about it,” said Johnny, looking from Catherine to her father and back again. “I want the job, but not this way.”

  Her heart swelled with emotion. Oh, Johnny! I love you so much.

  But Johnny wasn’t finished talking. “If I take the job, there has to be something here for Cathy, too.”

  “Yes,” she snapped. “Your job.”

  He took her hand and drew her attention to the engagement ring. “You have a job, Cathy. You’re going to be my wife.”

  “But that doesn’t mean I can’t run Wilson. Married women work, Johnny. Have you looked at the women on the assembly line? They manage to do both.”

  “They’ve done both because they had to,” he pointed out as her father nodded in agreement. “Don’t you think they’d be happier at home?”

  “Ask them!” She pulled her hand away from his. “It’s not like I’m taking a job away from a veteran.” She turned to her father. “I’m your flesh and blood, Daddy. How can you do this to me?”

  “You’re overwrought,” said her father. “When you calm down, you’ll thank me.”

  “Thank you? For what? For slapping me in the face after I’ve put everything I have into working to make you proud of me?”

  “What about a family?” Johnny asked, his voice growing louder. “You’ll take this job and two months after we get married, you’ll have to quit.”

  “Why?” she tossed back at him. “Does pregnancy destroy brain cells?”

  Her father inhaled sharply. “Watch your tongue, Catherine Anne.”

  “Pregnant,” she said. “Pregnant, pregnant, pregnant. Sandra Mihalik worked until her sixth month. Miriam, the personnel manager, worked right up until she had David, then came back six weeks later. It can be done, Johnny.”

  And then the ax fell. “Not by my wife.”

  She stared at him. “What was that?”

  Johnny kicked back his chair and got to his feet. His expression was a picture of pure male rage. “I said, not by my wife.”

  “Meaning what?”

  “You understand English. Figure it out.”

  That was her father’s cue to slip out of the office. Neither combatant noticed.

  “I’m just a woman,” she said sweetly. “Maybe you should explain it to me.”

  “My wife doesn’t work.”

  “Your girlfriend did and that didn’t bother you.”

  “You were doing what you had to do, Cathy. You did it for your father.”

  “Yes,” she conceded, “that’s how it started, but hasn’t it occurred to you that it’s come to mean something more to me?”

  “No.”

  Her anger and hurt were so intense she could scarcely breathe. “How can you say that, Johnny? You’ve worked next to me for almost six months now. Don’t you know anything about me at all?”

  “It isn’t right for a married woman to work. It’s up to the husband to take care of the family.”

  “Did your first wife work?”

  The look on his face was murderous as he shook his head. “Like I said, my wife stays home.”

  Her laugh was triumphant. “And then you were divorced. So much for that theory.”

  “Don’t push me, Cathy.”

  “What’ll you do?” she asked, her temper out of control. “Steal my job out from under me?” She brushed away angry, powerless tears. “Oh, excuse me. How could I forget? You’ve already done that.”

  ‘“What the hell do you want from me?” he exploded. “I didn’t ask for the job, Cathy. Your dad offered it to me. He’s damn sure not going to give it to you. Would you rather it go to a stranger?”

  “I’d rather you’d given me the choice before you said yes.”

  “I’m a man. If I’m going to support us, I need the best job I can find.”

  “So do I.”

  His voice was low, deadly. “You’re not going to support the family. Not while I’m alive.”

  “Don’t you hear a word I’m saying, Johnny? I don’t want to be the only breadwinner in the family, but I do want to contribute.”

  “Are you telling me that taking care of a family isn’t contributing?”

  “Are you telling me that I’m good enough to run a company when there’s a war on, but once peace is declared, I’m just a helpless woman?”

  “Yes.”

  “You can’t mean that.” All of her illusions about the man she loved were crumbling right in front of her eyes. How could she have been so blind?

  “Stop fighting things you can’t change, Cathy.” His look was sharp, angry. “I didn’t see you kicking up a storm to risk your life on the front line with us men.”

  “That’s different.”

  “Damn right it is.”

  “I’ve worked hard to see Wilson get where it is. Don’t I deserve to see the rest of my plans through? There’s so much to accomplish with the war ending.” Johnny, let me get through to you, please, before it’s too late!

  For a brief moment she thought that she had, that her words had reached the stubborn part of him that refused to see her point, but then his expression hardened. “I want what your parents have,” he said at last. “I want a wife who lives for her husband.”

  “Then there’s nothing more to talk about.” She yanked the engagement ring off her finger and threw it at him. It bounced off his chest and fell with a clink to the floor. “Enjoy your new job, Johnny.” She turned and ran from the office.

  What hurt more than anything was the fact that he didn’t follow her.

  * * *

  It wasn’t that Johnny didn’t want to run after Catherine, pul
l her into his arms and promise her the moon. He did. He really did. But there was his pride to consider. What she was asking of him was so far beyond the pale that he didn’t know how to deal with it. Sure, she’d done a hell of a job at Wilson Manufacturing. All you had to do was look at the bottom line and you’d see how successful she’d been. But there was more to that bottom line than met the eye. He knew—and she admitted—that if he hadn’t come along when he did, she would’ve had a full-blown strike on her hands and Wilson Manufacturing’s bottom line would’ve been shot all to hell within two weeks.

  She was smart but he was shrewd. She understood books and numbers, while he was better with the intangibles. Like a man’s pride. She’d failed miserably with Harry Barnes and his workers. No man wanted to take orders from a woman. No man wanted to crawl to a woman and ask for a raise.

  It was a man’s world. Always was, always would be. Her dad would’ve handed his company over to Eddie Martin quicker than he’d have laid that burden on his daughter.

  He retrieved the ring from where it had rolled under the desk; it nestled cold against his palm. It had been nice while it lasted, thinking he could buy into the dream of a family of his own, but he’d learned early on that most dreams never come true. And this dream was no exception.

  * * *

  Catherine ran past her father, who was talking to some of his cronies near the lunchroom, then burst out the front door. Chest heaving, she looked around the barren factory landscape for a rock, a brick, anything she could pick up and fling through the office window. She gasped for air while righteous anger made her heart thud crazily. She felt powerless, helpless, worthless. A woman.

  Her laugh was wild, out of control. That was it. She felt like a woman. Everything she had achieved, all of the accomplishments of the past two years had been brushed aside by her father as if they were an underdone chocolate cake or a soggy apple pie.

  She’d been good enough to run the company when nobody else was available, but now her dad was pushing her aside. It was unfair, so horribly unfair, and there was not one blessed thing she could do to change it.

  How could she have ever been so stupid as to believe Johnny was special? That they could be both a couple and a team? She’d never done anything to make him feel uncomfortable working for her. Had he been biding his time, waiting for the first opportunity to throw it all back in her face?

  She stormed down the steps and headed toward the subway. “I don’t need you, Johnny Danza,” she said out loud. The pain in her heart was horrible, but she would live. She was stronger than heartbreak; she’d proved that to herself when Douglas died.

  Johnny Danza was stubborn and headstrong, but he had met his match in her. He would never see her cry again.

  Chapter Fourteen

  July 4, 1945

  Dear Gerry,

  Well, the war in Europe may be over, but the war at the Wilsons’ is going strong. I can’t believe how everything has changed in just one week. My father just put Johnny in charge of the business. Daddy still owns Wilson Manufacturing, but he doesn’t even want to go into the office. He says he’s taking a sabbatical (whatever that is) but it looks a lot like giving up to me.

  Even worse, Cathy gave Johnny back the engagement ring, and Johnny moved out of the basement and is living at the factory. Mom is trying to make peace between Cathy and my father but Cathy’s having none of it. I begged her to make up with Johnny, but she pushed me off her bed and slammed the door in my face.

  And worst of all my dad just sits there in the rumpus room all by himself with “Sentimental Journey” playing over and over again on the Victrola. It’s gotten so if I met Doris Day in person I’d put a sock in her mouth.

  We’ll never have these problems, Gerry. I don’t want anything more than to be your wife. I can’t imagine a more beautiful life than taking care of our home and raising our children. How could any woman ask for more?

  All my love,

  Nancy

  * * *

  If Johnny expected Catherine to come around, he was sorely mistaken.

  If Catherine expected Johnny to admit he was unfair, she was in for a surprise.

  As the days slowly passed, their positions grew more intractable. Catherine tried to talk to her father, but her arguments fell on deaf ears.

  “You’re taking this too much to heart,” her mother said one morning as Catherine stared out the window at other women rushing off to work. “You can always find another job.”

  “I don’t want another job, Mother,” she said with a long sigh. “I want the one I had.” A job wasn’t the issue. She wanted what was rightfully hers.

  Her mother patted her on the shoulder. “Be patient with your father, honey. It’s a long road back home.”

  “Sure,” said Catherine dispiritedly. “I have all the time in the world.”

  Johnny felt caught between a rock and a hard place. The one thing he was certain of was that Tom wasn’t coming back to work any time soon. It wasn’t the same at the factory without Catherine. He hadn’t realized how hard she’d worked until he sat down behind the desk and started looking at the pile of paperwork for disposition. He wasn’t an office type. He was better out there with people, thinking on his feet, mediating problems. This kind of fancy paper shuffling made him itchy. He’d seen her working on monthly reports, her pencil whizzing across the ledger sheets like a German rocket. He could sit there behind the desk for the rest of his life and never make sense of any of it.

  Or like it, for that matter.

  He’d gone over to the Wilson house one night when he knew from Nancy that she and Catherine were going to the movies. Dot had hugged him and kissed his cheek. “Give her time,” she’d said about her headstrong daughter. “She’ll come around. She’s just confused.”

  Johnny nodded and said the right things, but in his heart of hearts he knew the only way Catherine would come around was if he gave in. And that wasn’t about to happen.

  Tom didn’t want to hear much of anything Johnny had to say. They talked about the Dodgers and the Yankees and touched briefly on what was happening in the Pacific, then Johnny said good night and went back to his makeshift accommodations at the factory, more despondent than before.

  He’d spent his whole life alone, but he had never felt this lonely before. Catherine had filled all the corners of his heart and soul. Seeing her, hearing her voice, sharing the days with her had made him feel hopeful, that his life could amount to more than counting down the days.

  But, all of that was gone now and he was damned if he could see a way to get it back.

  * * *

  One week after Catherine stormed out of Wilson Manufacturing, she returned to get her final paycheck. It was early on Monday morning and she hurried into personnel, hoping she could get in and out before too many people noticed her. Miriam was filled with chatter and Catherine kept glancing over her shoulder to make certain Johnny was nowhere to be seen.

  “Don’t be a stranger,” said Miriam as she gave Catherine a hug. “Just because you’re a lady of leisure these days doesn’t mean you’ve got to forget the rest of us.”

  “I won’t forget you, Miriam,” she said, kissing the older woman’s cheek. “I couldn’t forget any of you.”

  Walking out that door was even harder the second time around. The first time she’d been fueled by outrage. This time she was fueled only by regret. She was halfway to the gate, immersed in dark thoughts, when she realized she was walking behind a familiar figure.

  “Eddie?” She increased her pace. “Eddie, wait up.”

  Eddie stopped but didn’t turn around. When she caught up to him she saw why.

  “Oh, God, Eddie...” She went to touch him, but he moved away. “What on earth happened?”

  His face was a mass of cuts and bruises, including a vicious black eye and split lip. He tried to smile, but the effect bordered on the grotesque. “Would you believe I walked into a door?”

  She couldn’t smile back. “What are you d
oing here?”

  “A little unfinished business with personnel. I forgot to give back a locker key.”

  It was difficult to concentrate on anything but his poor battered face. “Did you... do you know my dad’s back home?”

  “Yeah. Grapevine’s still pretty good.”

  “Then you must—” She stopped. She couldn’t bring herself to mention her and Johnny’s breakup.

  “I know that, too.” A touch of the old Eddie was in his bittersweet smile. “I could say I told you so.”

  “Yes,” she said after a moment, “but you won’t, will you?”

  “Not if you don’t ask me what happened to me.”

  She sighed. “Looks like we both have our secrets now, Eddie. Times have certainly changed.”

  “It was good to see you again.”

  She touched his forearm. “Take care of yourself.”

  “Yeah,” he said, with a mock salute. “Anything you say, boss.”

  It was the last time she saw Eddie Martin alive.

  * * *

  Some people say bad news travels faster than the speed of light, but in the case of the death of Eddie Martin, that old saw didn’t hold water. Two days after she bumped into Eddie at the plant, he was killed in a barroom brawl in Long Island City. Nancy brought home the news on Friday night.

  “The funeral’s tomorrow morning,” she said, blotting her tears with a pink tissue.

  Dot and Tom came in the back door from tending the garden. “Are you talking about poor Eddie Martin?” her mother asked.

  Nancy nodded. “Miriam said he—”

  Catherine pushed back her chair and stood up. “Excuse me,” she said, then hurried upstairs to her room where she locked the door behind her. If only she could lock out her thoughts as easily.

  She kicked off her shoes and curled up on the window seat overlooking Hansen Street. Edna’s roses were still in bloom, their scarlet and blush and snow-white blossoms dazzling against the deep green of early summer. She’d sat like this, watching the world beyond her window, that June evening two years ago, looking out at Edna pruning her rosebushes and wondering what her future would hold. How well she remembered that night, laughing with Nancy about leg makeup while she hurried to dress for the Stage Door Canteen. It seemed like another life, and she marveled that she’d ever been so young and hopeful.