Pushed back by ruthless and successful German advances, British, French, and Belgian divisions were trapped at Dunkirk. All Germany had to do was advance—but for some reason never fully explained, Adolf Hitler ordered a halt to the assault. The British Royal Navy led a successful exodus of 340,000 Allied troops. While averting complete disaster, the Allies lost nearly 130,000 dead, wounded, or captured. In a speech to the House of Commons, Winston Churchill proclaimed that “Wars are not won by evacuation.” And then in ringing tones he declared the intention of the government to carry out the battle against the Nazis: “We shall fight on the seas and oceans; we shall fight, with growing confidence and growing strength, in the air, we shall defend our island, whatever the cost may be, we shall fight on the beaches, we shall fight on the landing grounds, we shall fight in the fields and in the streets, we shall fight in the hills; we shall never surrender!”
Well might the British need this sort of resolution, for the Germans took Paris, forcing that country to sign a humiliating armistice. The Germans immediately began an aerial blitz over Britain in July, and Hermann Goring was astonished when Royal Air Force planes flew a bombing raid all the way to Berlin. The attack lasted three hours and caught Hitler totally by surprise. He had been assured that British bombers would never reach Berlin.
While the war raged in Europe, life went on in America. Americans went to see Henry Fonda starring in The Grapes of Wrath, the movie based on Steinbeck’s novel about Okies pushing toward California in search of a better living. Oldsmobile came out with a car that had no shift, a hydromatic, as it was called. Walt Disney produced Pinocchio, which taught the evils of untruth. Wendell Willkie was nominated for president by the Republicans and threatened to give President Roosevelt a hard fight for the highest office in America.
The average price of a home for a middle-class family was $6,500 and was usually bought at 4.5 percent interest. Ads jumped off the pages of magazines such as Saturday Evening Post and Life assuring housewives that happy marriages depended on gleaming bathrooms, dust-free living rooms, and punctual evening meals. On the radio a catchy tune had millions of Americans singing, “I’m Chiquita Banana and I’ve come to say, bananas have to ripen in a certain way.” It ended with a caution that bananas love a tropical climate, “So you should never put bananas in the refrigerator.” The refrigerator they were likely to use was a Crosley Shelvador that sold for $99.50. And everyone was humming, “Pepsi Cola hits the spot, twelve full ounces, that’s a lot.”
So America turned its eyes away from Europe hoping that somehow the war would go away. Deep down in the hearts of most Americans, however, was the knowledge that what was happening in Germany and Poland and Austria and all over Europe was not going away.
Wendy Stuart woke slowly, coming out of a short but very deep sleep. The pale sunlight that slanted down from the high window in her room was filled with millions of dancing motes as it fanned out over the bed, which practically filled the small bedroom, and warmed the young woman’s face. The heat of it caused her to stir, and she muttered something, then turned over and pushed her face into the pillow seeking to go back to sleep. However, the thoughts of the previous night’s triumph came to her, and she rolled over, then sat up and blinked sleepily with a smile on her lips.
“It was my best concert!” she said aloud—then shook her head and ran her hand through her hair, laughing softly. “I must be going crazy—talking to myself.”
Getting out of bed, she moved to the tiny bathroom where she quickly showered, washed her hair, then dried it, all the time thinking of the previous evening. She had sung with the symphony—her first full-scale concert. Alex had directed, of course, and the auditorium had been comfortably filled. She had sung excerpts from Carmen, and her voice had never been as strong and clear.
As she was putting the last touches on her hair, she leaned forward and studied herself in the mirror. Her eyes were slightly puffy from loss of sleep, for she had practiced long and hard for this concert, and she knew that she had reached some kind of a plateau. There had been influential people in that audience, and her career was about to take off—or at least so she felt.
She rose and put on a gray skirt and a frilly white silk blouse, then sat down at the telephone and dialed her mother’s number.
“Mother? I’ve got to tell you about the concert. It was wonderful!”
At the other end of the line, Allie Stuart sat listening as Wendy described the evening in detail. When she finally had a chance she exclaimed, “I wish I could’ve been there, Wendy. I know it must’ve been marvelous!”
“It was the best I ever sang, and Alex was outstanding with the symphony!”
“Did the two of you go out and celebrate?”
“Oh, yes—and we’re going out again tonight! Alex said he has something to tell me, but it’s a secret.”
“You have no idea what it is?”
Actually, Wendy did have an idea. Alex had behaved peculiarly in the past week, hinting at times that big things were going to happen. He had been almost secretive, and Wendy had finally come to the conclusion that he had made up his mind to ask her to marry him. She hesitated for one moment, then said breathlessly, “Mother, I—I think he’s going to pop the question tonight, as they say in romantic novels.”
“Ask you to marry him?”
“Yes, I think so! Oh, he hasn’t actually said anything about it—but he keeps hinting around that tonight he’s got something big. And what can be bigger than getting married?”
Allie hesitated. She and Owen were disturbed over Wendy’s choice. “I know you love him, Wendy,” she said quietly, “and I wouldn’t want to discourage you for anything—but have you talked with him about the things of the Lord?”
“Well, not really, but I will. After we get married, I’m going to insist on his going to church.”
“If he won’t go with you now, why do you think he’ll go after you are married?” Allie asked. She then added, “Most men will do more for a woman before they marry than afterward.”
“Oh, Mother, it’ll work, you’ll see! He loves me—I know he does, and I love him so much!”
Allie could not find it in her heart to press her point. She only said, “Your father and I will be praying for you. Getting married is such a big decision. Next to finding God, it’s the biggest decision anyone ever makes on this earth, I think.”
“Of course, Mother, I understand that, but deep down Alex knows that he needs God. I just know he does. I haven’t wanted to press him, but Dad’s sermon at Christmas touched him, and he’s mentioned it many times. It made such an impact on him that he still remembers the outline.” She laughed, a trilling sound on the telephone, and said, ‘“Where did I come from? Who am I? and Where am I going?’ Alex quotes that to me all the time—and he’s read so much philosophy you wouldn’t believe it. He’s really thinking about religion.”
This did not pacify Allie, but she could not think of a way to warn Wendy any more clearly. “Be very careful, Dear,” she said, “and call me!”
“I will, Mother. Tell Dad I love him—and Will and Woody. Good-bye!”
Replacing the phone in the cradle, Wendy sat for a moment thinking of the conversation. I know Mom and Dad are worried about me, she thought. But it’ll be all right, they’ll see. She rose at once and put on her coat and went down to the studio at the school, where she practiced all morning and studied for the rest of the afternoon. All the time, however, she was thinking of the evening they would have together, she and Alex, and she dreamed of the moment when he would say simply, “I love you, Wendy, and I want you to marry me.”
The best place to eat in Nashville was Jimmy Kelly’s, and it was to this spot that Alex took Wendy for dinner that night. She had dressed carefully for the occasion, knowing that it would be a memorable night. She wore a light aqua dress made of silk, trimmed with silver, and the earrings of jade that Alex had given her matched perfectly. As they pulled up in front of the restaurant, she said nervously,
“This looks expensive, Alex!”
Alex leaned over and kissed her on the cheek. “A night like this comes but once in a blue moon!” he grinned. “Now, let’s go inside and let them see what we look like.” He stepped out of the Cord, and at the same time a doorman opened the door for Wendy.
“Have you ever been here before?” Wendy asked as they moved inside.
“Yes, twice. It’s an odd kind of place,” he mused as the maitre d’ came up to them. “You have to buy a good table!” He handed the waiter a bill and was rewarded by a smile. “Why, of course, Sir, right this way!”
He took them to a fine table right on the edge of the dance floor, not far away from the orchestra, and they sat down and studied the menu.
After ordering steaks, the specialty of the house, Alex turned to Wendy. “Someone ought to come by and ask for your autograph after your performance last night.” He saw that his remark flustered her and shook his head. “You have no ego at all, do you, Wendy? I never saw a woman get so flustered by a simple compliment.”
Wendy was pleased by his compliment far more than if he had said something about her appearance. She desperately wanted to succeed in her profession, for she knew that Alex was going up in the music world, and she wanted to go with him, side by side.
After they had eaten the meal, they danced for a while. The bandleader was a tall young man named Harry James. He played trumpet like no one Wendy had ever heard. “He’s so good, isn’t he?”
“Yes, he is. I expect he’ll be going up in the music world.”
They stayed for three hours dancing and talking, and during this time Alex drank most of the wine that he had ordered. Despite his urgings, Wendy steadfastly refused. She had never taken a drink, and he teased her by saying, “Don’t you know that Prohibition is over? But you’re a preacher’s daughter and that makes a difference.”
“I’ve seen so many lives get ruined by drinking. You remember that young French-horn player? What was his name—Larry Johnson, wasn’t it? You said he had more talent than any young man you’d ever seen, but he didn’t make it because he drank too much.”
“Larry just didn’t know how to handle it.”
“I think I’d rather not even learn whether I can handle it or not. If I don’t take the first one, I’ll never have problems with the second one, will I?”
“That’s one way of looking at it. Come on; let’s dance again.”
Finally, they left the restaurant and got into the Cord, which the doorman brought around. Alex drove away singing, “I’ll Never Smile Again,” which the band had played. He did not have much of a singing voice, but he did have perfect pitch, and when Wendy joined in with him, adding her rich contralto, he grinned and said, “It sounds better when you help! Come on; sit by me. I’m lonesome way over here.”
Wendy moved over, and he put his hand on her knee, caressing it gently. She did not protest for the moment, but it made her very alert.
Finally he took her to her room and said, “I want to come in. I haven’t told you the big secret yet.”
“Well, I suppose it’ll be all right, but it’s very late. You can’t stay long.”
Alex didn’t answer. He got out of the car, opened the door, and led her inside. They took the elevator to the second floor, got off, and she moved to the door of her room.
“Let me get that!” Alex took the key from her, opened the door, then stepped back. Wendy moved inside and turned the light on, glad that she had cleaned up the place. “Would you like some coffee?” she said.
“No, I don’t want coffee; I want to talk.”
“All right.” A flush came to Wendy’s face. There was an intensity in Alex that she had not seen before. “What is it, Alex?”
He removed his coat and hat, tossed them on a chair, then turned to her, his eyes gleaming with excitement. “Something I’ve got to tell you. I haven’t been sure of it until today, but now it’s certain.”
“What is it, Alex? I’ve never seen you so excited!”
Reaching out, he took her by the arms and held her very tightly. He had strong hands and sometimes did not know his own strength. “It’s the biggest thing that’s ever happened to me, Wendy,” he said, and shook his head almost in disbelief. He looked very handsome, trim, and fit, his eyes alight with whatever it was that was stirring him so. “I’ve been offered a wonderful position!”
“A position? You mean you’re going to leave teaching?”
“Yes, a new symphony is being formed in New York, and I’ve been asked to take over.”
“How wonderful!” Wendy exclaimed. She was very conscious of the pressure of his hands on her arms, and she said, “Come over here and sit down. Tell me all about it!”
“All right, but I’m so excited I don’t know where to start.” He began telling her how he had been approached some months ago on the possibility of leaving teaching to form and direct a new symphony. His hands moved excitedly, and from time to time he touched her as if to assure himself of her presence.
“And it’s not just a symphony. It will be broadcast over radio nationwide once a week for an hour.”
“Why, that’s wonderful! You’ll be famous, Alex!”
“I suppose I will, but here’s the part that I’ve saved for the last.” He smiled at her, his teeth even and white against the tan that he somehow maintained all year long. Suddenly he reached out and took her hands and squeezed them. “The symphony will have a soloist, and I’ve demanded the right to choose who it will be.” He lifted her hands, kissed both of them, and said, “Guess who I’m going to have?”
“You don’t mean—you don’t mean me, do you? Why, you could have anybody!”
“I don’t want anybody; I want you, Wendy Stuart.” His eyes flashed as he said, “You don’t know how much talent you have, Wendy. You’ve barely touched the surface. You could be the greatest singer this country’s ever had, and I want us to be together. We can go right to the top! There’s no limit!”
Wendy was thrilled over the news. She had not expected anything like this even though she was not unaware of her talent. She knew she had a good voice and had been wondering how she would be able to make a living. She had no desire for popular forms of entertainment such as movies, but this was exactly what she had always wanted.
Alex fell silent. He lowered his gaze and seemed to be thinking hard, but he looked up quickly and said, “Wendy, I want you to go with me. I want us to be together!”
Wendy gasped, and her eyes grew starry. “Oh, Alex, I’m so happy!” she said. He kissed her then, pulling her close, and for once she did not protest his demanding caresses. She pulled her head back and said, “You don’t have to eat me alive!”
He laughed and said, “You’re the loveliest thing I’ve ever seen! Now, we’re going to be really one!”
“I don’t want a really big wedding,” Wendy said. “I’ve thought about it a lot, and some people seem to like that, but I don’t really see the need of it. We can go home, and Dad can marry us in the living room. Would that be all right with you?” She looked up and saw that her words had some sort of strange effect on Alex. He stared at her for a long time, and the smile was gone from his face. “What’s the matter,” she said, “you don’t like that idea?”
Alex dropped her hands and stood to his feet. There was a strain in his face, and he seemed to find difficulty in speaking. She stood up, and when she did he said in a strangely tense voice, “Wendy, I love you, but we can’t be married. Not for a long time.”
“Not be married?” Wendy said, blinking in confusion. “I thought you said—”
“I said we’d be together, but I got this opportunity because I didn’t demand a lot of money. Someday I’ll be able to demand more, but right now it’s going to be tight for a few years. All the money is going to the orchestra and to the broadcast.”
“But it doesn’t take that much money!”
Alex hesitated. “I can’t marry you. I’m just not a marrying man, I guess.” He put his a
rms around her, or tried to, but she stepped back and his eyes half narrowed. “We can’t go on like this, the way we have been.”
A silence fell across the room. Temptation, keen and strong, touched Wendy Stuart as it never had. She had never loved a man before, and as she looked at Alex, she thought, I’m going to lose him if I don’t agree. Everything in her longed to say yes, but she finally whispered, “I can’t live with you, Alex; it would be wrong.”
This seemed to strike against Alex. He had half suspected it would be this way, but he had put all of his hopes in the new arrangement thinking, If I can just get her the job as soloist, that will be enough. He saw that she was pale, but her lips were drawn together tightly, and her back was as straight as a ramrod. “I suppose I’ve got my answer,” he said slowly. “It’ll have to be my way, Wendy.”
She took a deep breath and said, “It’s too high a price, Alex; I won’t do it.”
Silence fell over them. Pain seemed to come from deep down in Wendy’s breast. She saw a shadow cross Alex’s face. He stared at the floor for what seemed like a long time. The Seth Thomas clock made a steady cadence that seemed to grow louder in the silence. Alex looked up with one quick, final gesture and said quietly, “I guess that’s it then. Goodbye, Wendy.” He turned and picked up his hat and coat, slipped into them, and when he got to the door he opened it, stepped out, and did not look back.
The sound of the door closing seemed to trigger a final sorrow in Wendy, and she began to tremble. Turning, she fell blindly on the couch and drew herself into a fetal position. The raw sobs coming from her throat she could not stop, and the pain in her heart felt as if it would break it in two.
Winds of Change Page 6