Winds of Change

by Gilbert, Morris

The screen door slammed, and she looked up quickly. Seeing her father, she slipped the letter into her pocket, but Davidson had noted it. “Reading that letter again?” he smiled, taking a seat beside her. “You must have it memorized by now.”

  Carol laughed self-consciously. “I suppose I do, Dad. I wish I could get a letter every day.”

  “Takes a little longer than that to get a letter here from England.” Davidson’s face was worn and lined, and there was a weariness in his voice. He had lost weight and did not have good color. The colorful Hawaiian shirt that he wore drooped over his thin shoulders, and there was an emaciated look about his face that frightened Carol. He leaned his head back, closed his eyes, and said, “It smells good in the spring. May was always my favorite month.”

  “Mine, too; the garden’s going to be good this year.”

  “I don’t think I’ll be able to do a lot with it. You better get Jimmy Archer to come over and help.”

  Glancing at her father quickly, Carol felt a start of fear. The garden had been his pride and joy before his illness. He had put in long hours at his job, then had come home and seemed to find relaxation by pottering around with onions and carrots and okra. Now, however, he had lost interest, and she tried to think of something encouraging to say. In truth there was little, for he had gone down quickly in the past few weeks. She had had a secret meeting with Dr. Cotter, who had warned her that her father could go at any moment.

  “What’s in the paper?” Carol said, hoping to gain his interest.

  Davidson opened the page and began to share the news with her. Sick as he was, it was the one thing he seemed to take an interest in. “Well, there’s good news and bad.”

  “Let’s have the bad first,” Carol said, making a face. It seemed the war was never going to go well for America and her allies. “What’s happened, Dad?”

  “Bataan’s fallen. The Japanese took thirty-six thousand prisoners there and are moving forward. They bombed Ceylon and sank a British carrier there. The British can’t afford to lose any of those. There’re too few of them.” He read on for a while and said, “But here’s the good news.” He looked up and his eyes were somewhat brighter. “There’s been a bombing raid on Tokyo.”

  “Tokyo!” Carol exclaimed. “How could they do that?”

  “A general named Doolittle launched some light bombers, B-25s, off of the aircraft carrier Hornet. The carrier got to within six hundred miles of the coast of Japan, the paper says. The planes flew so low over Japan that Doolittle said they could see a ball game being played.”

  “That’s wonderful!”

  “Well, it won’t mean much as far as winning a war, but it’s good news—and we don’t get much of that over here.”

  “Are we going to win the war, Dad?”

  “Of course we will! It’s just going to take time.”

  The two sat there until Carol finished the potatoes, then she said, “I didn’t tell you, but Harry Bledsoe called me again.”

  “He still wants you to go to work for him?”

  “Yes, and he offered more money.”

  “You don’t need to go to work, Daughter. We can get by.”

  “I know, Dad,” Carol said, “but I get so nervous around here. The housework doesn’t take long, and I’d really like to do something. Would you mind if I did work at least part-time?”

  “Not if you want to, Honey. What kind of job would it be, building parts in the factory?” Harry Bledsoe had a small parts factory just outside of Fort Smith. He had, however, another office and spent considerable time away.

  “He says he wants me to do some of the book work. Some of it I could do at home, and some of it I might have to drive over to Fort Smith to do.”

  “It might be a break for you, Carol,” Davidson nodded. He seemed exhausted by this simple conversation and finally rose, his hands trembling. “I think I’ll go take a nap.”

  “All right, Dad. You sleep awhile. I think I’ll call Mr. Bledsoe and tell him that I’ll take the job.”

  Moving inside, she finished the preparations on a pie for dessert, stuck it in the oven, then went to the telephone. When someone answered, “Bledsoe Incorporated,” she said, “May I speak with Mr. Bledsoe?”

  “Hi, this is Carol isn’t it? This is Harry.”

  “Oh, I didn’t recognize your voice, Mr. Bledsoe.”

  “I hope you’ve changed your mind about taking the job. I really need someone, Carol.”

  “Well, yes, I have, as a matter of fact. But only on a part-time basis. When would you want me to go to work?”

  “How about like right now?”

  “Right now!” Carol was startled. “But—”

  “Well, maybe not exactly right now. Could you come in in the morning? We could go over the books, and I think we can get you all straightened out pretty quick.”

  “All right, Mr. Bledsoe, I’ll see you in the morning. Would nine o’clock be all right?”

  “Great! See you then, Carol!”

  The next morning, Carol dressed carefully and drove the ancient Hudson, which her father had kept in such good condition, to the factory. She found Harry Bledsoe waiting for her, and he greeted her effusively saying, “Well, good to see you! Come right in!”

  Bledsoe was a man of forty, with brown hair and active, energetic brown eyes. He was ambitious and had built his business up by hard work, putting in eighteen-hour days. He had been married, but his wife had divorced him the previous year. No one was exactly certain why, but it was reputed that Bledsoe had been unfaithful to her. He took Carol’s arm and said, “Come in, come in! How about something to drink—coffee, orange juice?”

  “Orange juice would be fine.” Carol was ushered into the office, which was cluttered, and took the glass of juice that Bledsoe handed her. He poured himself a cup of coffee and waved the cup around as he spoke. “I’ve been so busy, I need to be twins, Carol,” he said. “Shuffling back and forth between Fort Smith, and I’m thinking of opening up another office in Oklahoma City. Big opportunity there.”

  “I didn’t know your business was moving so fast.”

  “Well, this hasn’t got out yet,” Bledsoe said, “but I’ve gotten a government contract. We’ll be making parts for military vehicles now. Going to have to expand, and that’s why I need help.”

  “I never worked as a bookkeeper.”

  “You’ll do fine. You had it in high school, didn’t you? And you worked for Mr. Simms down at the furniture store, kept his books?”

  “I’ll do the best I can.”

  “Fine, fine! Well, are you ready to start?”

  “I guess so.”

  Bledsoe gave her a careful look and shook his head. “You sure dress up this office.” He admired the light green dress that she wore and commented, “I like the way your hair is fixed.”

  “Why, thank you, Mr. Bledsoe.”

  “Hey, it takes too long to say ‘Mr. Bledsoe.’ Harry will be fine, except when we got important government people here, then we’ll be formal. OK?”

  “Well, all right, Harry, if that’s the way you’d like it.”

  “Sure, a small business like this, we’re going to be working real close.”

  For the next two weeks, Carol found herself more and more interested in the business. She also found herself working more and more hours, until she was basically a full-time employee. It took her mind off her fears for Clint and also her apprehensions about her father. She could not deceive herself that he was better and constantly thought of what would happen if he died. She knew she should be with him more, but she couldn’t face his declining health.

  It was on the second Thursday on the job that they had worked late, until after seven. Everyone had gone, and Bledsoe was dictating a letter to her. He looked up at the clock with surprise and interrupted himself. “Hey, it’s seven o’clock!” Grinning, he said, “Why didn’t you say something? I didn’t mean to make a slave out of you!”

  “I don’t mind, Harry.”

  “Well, I
do. Come on; let’s close up.” He locked the doors, and as they stepped outside he said, “What about something to eat? I guess Harrison’s is still open; we can get a burger.”

  “Oh, I really shouldn’t!”

  But Bledsoe insisted. “Come on, I’m not going to bite you! We’ll go in my car. I’ll bring you back to yours after we get a bite.”

  Harrison’s was a small cafe that often stayed open late. The evening special sounded good, so instead of hamburgers, they had steaks. The jukebox was on, and Frank Sinatra was singing, “All or Nothing at All.” “I like that guy. He’s got a good voice,” Bledsoe said. “Who’s your favorite singer?”

  “I suppose Tony Martin.”

  “Yeah, he’s good, too.” They discussed popular songs and compared their tastes, and finally Bledsoe leaned across the table and said, “You got good taste in music, and you’re doing a great job. I really appreciate all you’ve done.”

  “Why, it’s been fun.” Carol was somewhat nervous being in the cafe with a divorced man. Small-town morality was firmly fixed, and she knew that tongues would be wagging. Finally, after they’d finished their steaks, she said, “I guess I’d better get home. Dad will be waiting for me.”

  “All right.” Bledsoe paid the bill, and the two got into his car. When they got to the factory, Carol started to get out, but he took her arm and said, “Look, I get lonesome sometimes, Carol. There wouldn’t be anything wrong with us taking in a movie, something like that.”

  “Why, I can’t do that, Harry, I’m married!”

  “So you’re married.” Bledsoe’s hand went around her shoulder, and he shook her gently. He was an attractive man, and now said persuasively, “I’m just talking about a movie, maybe go to a concert, something like that. I’m gonna have to ask you to go to Fort Smith sooner or later, to help with the book work there.”

  “I couldn’t do that. It wouldn’t be right!”

  Bledsoe smiled. “You’re probably right,” he said. “But I get so lonesome sometimes. I miss my wife.”

  It was the first time that Bledsoe had mentioned his wife, and Carol asked tentatively, “What happened, if you want to tell me?”

  “Well, nobody’s really asked me. If you don’t mind listening, I’d like to talk about it a little bit.”

  Carol listened as Bledsoe spoke for over half an hour. She felt sorry for him, for, according to his story, he had done nothing to deserve what his wife had handed him. “The truth is,” he said finally, shrugging his shoulders, “she was in love with another guy. That never came out, but that’s the way it was.”

  “That’s too bad. I’m so sorry.” She was aware that Bledsoe’s hand was on her shoulder, but there seemed no harm in it. Nevertheless, she said, “I’ve got to go. Thanks for the supper.”

  “Good night, Carol.” Bledsoe moved his arm, but he patted her gently on the back saying, “It was a lucky day for me when you came to work at my place.”

  Carol made her way home, and when her father asked her why she was late, she hesitated. “Oh, I had extra work to do.” For one moment she had considered telling him she had gone out with Harry Bledsoe and that they had talked for a time, then for some reason she decided against it. “I’m going in to write Clint a letter,” she said. When she wrote the letter, however, she did not mention her job with Harry Bledsoe, nor the fact that she had gone out with him. It gave her a twinge of conscience to keep anything from Clint, but she didn’t want to worry him. “I won’t do it again,” she said. “It was just that Harry is so lonely.”

  Wendy Stuart made her way through the noonday crowds and finally found a place to sit at the lunch counter. She ordered a chicken sandwich and milk, and when it came, she began to eat, conscious of the hubbub around her. The city, always crowded, now seemed to be bursting out of its seams. The war had done that to every place, she supposed. People who were once at home were now out working at jobs that they had never once thought of. She remembered the letter she had received from Mona and pulled it out of her purse. Unfolding it, she chewed thoughtfully on the sandwich and reread Mona’s letter.

  Dear Wendy,

  I’m sorry I was so late answering your last letter, but things have been happening so fast. I broke up with Charles—but then I don’t think I even mentioned that I was going with him. Anyway, he’s a big man on campus here at the university. The big thing right now is the Miss Oklahoma contest. It’s the most exciting thing I’ve ever been involved in, Wendy. I’ve just got to win! I’ve got a friend who was entered last year, and she said you have to do things like putting Vaseline on over your lipstick so that you can smile all the time. Isn’t that funny?

  Wendy’s brow wrinkled as she felt a stab of worry. Doesn’t she ever think of anything serious? she thought. Folding the letter, she put it back in her purse, wondering what it would be like to have your life taken up with dances and proms and Miss Oklahoma contests. Her own life had steadied to a routine. She still had not obtained a job singing, but there was at least one good prospect. She worked at the library part-time now and spent the rest of the time either practicing or helping with the USO. She had become very popular there and had performed many, many times. The servicemen were so hungry for entertainment that she had laughingly told her father, “They’d applaud if Andy Devine stood up and sang!”

  Finishing her sandwich, she slipped off the stool and left the drugstore. As she was passing through the door, she heard her name called and turned to find Alex coming out of the building. “Wendy!” he said. There was a welcome smile on his face. He was wearing a pair of light blue trousers, a white shirt open at the throat, and his face was tanned.

  “Alex, I didn’t expect to see you here!”

  “I just got back in town. I’ve been down in Miami doing a series of concerts there.” Alex examined Wendy carefully and said, “You look beautiful.”

  “Well, I’m not tan like you are.”

  “We can’t stand here; come along. Where are you going?”

  “I’m going to work.”

  “Where are you working now?”

  “Oh, just a part-time job at the library.”

  “Aren’t you singing at all?”

  “Just at the USO; I may have a chance at a job though.”

  “Come on; I’ll take you there—or is your car here?”

  “No, I was going to ride the bus.”

  “Well, no need of that!” Alex put his hand possessively on Wendy’s arm, which sent a thrill through the young woman.

  He led her to the parking lot, and she smiled, “You still have the same car. I thought you might be driving a Cadillac by now!”

  “No, they don’t make ’em like this one anymore.” Alex patted the old Cord affectionately, then opened the door. When Wendy got in, he shut the door, then walked around and got behind the wheel. As they drove toward the library, she listened as he spoke enthusiastically about the success of the symphony.

  “I hear the program every week. It’s magnificent, Alex; I’m so proud of you.”

  Alex turned to look at Wendy. “Nice of you to say that. Some young women wouldn’t have been so generous.”

  “Why do you say that?”

  “Well, after all, we broke up, and when couples break up there’s usually some animosity there.”

  “I wouldn’t feel like that. I’m proud of what you’re doing.”

  Alex said nothing for a time. In fact he was struck by Wendy’s fresh beauty, and warm memories were flooding back. He had felt something for her he never felt for any other young woman, and when he dropped her off at the library he asked, “What time do you get off?”

  “Five o’clock.”

  “You’re going out with me tonight, no argument! If you don’t agree, I’ll kidnap you. Then I’ll be arrested and probably electrocuted. You don’t want to be responsible for that, do you?”

  Wendy had missed his teasing ways and said, “All right, I suppose I’ll have to agree.”

  The day went slowly at the library, for
she was thinking mostly of Alex. His appearance had brought memories back to her and sadness of a kind. However, when she went outside to meet him, she let none of this show.

  “We’re going back to Jimmy Kelly’s. Remember the time we ate there?”

  “Yes, but it still costs a lot.”

  “Doesn’t matter. I’ve got it, and we’re going to spend it!”

  The dinner was fine, and after they had eaten and had left the restaurant, Alex said, “Want to take a drive around the lake?”

  “All right.”

  The moon was out and Wendy enjoyed listening as Alex talked about the world of music. He was totally involved in the symphony, and finally as they came to park by a grove of trees, he looked up and said, “These are probably the only trees left in the whole city.”

  “The lake’s pretty—look at that moon,” Wendy said.

  “Do you ever think about us, Wendy?” Alex asked after they had talked for a time. He turned to face her and admired the way the silver light of the moon touched her cheek, outlining her smooth features. She had beautiful eyes, and now she turned to him, her lips curved upward, and he thought he had never seen anything prettier.

  “Yes, I think about it a lot.”

  A silence fell on them for a moment, and then finally Alex said slowly, “I’ve missed you more than I thought I’d ever miss anyone, Wendy.”

  Wendy could hardly speak as Alex took her hand and kissed it. “You shouldn’t do that, Alex,” she whispered.

  Alex stared at her and shook his head. “You know, I don’t know how to say this, but I still love you.” When she did not answer, he released her hand, and then reached over and pulled her closer. He kissed her, and the pressure of his lips and the touch of his hands stirred her. She found herself responding, and her hand went up behind his head, and she pulled him even closer. And for Alex there was a sweetness in the kiss that he had never found with any other woman—an innocence and a lack of deception that drew him. Her body was firm against him, and he felt hungers rise in him and drew her closer. She pulled away, pushing at his chest, and he said huskily, “You haven’t changed.”