But she brought along only one bill today, determined to return home with change for the trip, or to treat Cora to something new.
The three-quarter-length sleeves felt smooth between her fingers, and the dress would go nicely with Al’s blue shirt. Maybe they’d have somebody take a picture with his Brownie camera for a memento.
The sign above the rack proclaimed SALE DRESSES, yet the tag still read S7.98, a hefty investment. But when Dottie viewed her profile in the three-way mirror, Gladys said, “Whoowhee, Dottie Kyle—I mean Jensen—you look spiffy!” She peered at the ticket. “Oh, this dress is also Spunblend—Montgomery Ward’s fabric.”
Alvina Flugge entered the store about that time. Her eyes bugged out when she spied Dottie. So…she must have heard, too.
Turning to see if the skirt fell straight, Dottie concentrated on her image.
Gladys adjusted darts in the bodice and murmured in Dottie’s ear. “I’m so glad for you. If I’d known, I’d have brought you a little gift, but I’d like to take another 25% off for you today, if you’ll accept.”
Twenty-five percent? Why, that was two whole dollars—the price suddenly dipped to $5.98. She’d almost decided to make the purchase anyway, but the offer sealed the deal.
“I hear you and Al are going out to see Cora. I bet you can hardly wait.”
“We leave tomorrow—I’m jittery about it—but now, at least I’ve got what I need. Thank you for the discount.”
“A pair of slacks would be comfortable on such a long trip.”
“No, I think I’m too old for such things.”
“Phfft…there’s no such thing, Dottie. Want to try on a pair? You’ve got a good figure for them.” Brenda folded the new dress into a white cardboard box lined with tissue paper and figured the bill.
“We do have a sale on hosiery and women’s pants this week.”
“Millie already gave me a brand-new pair.”
“But surely, you’ll need more than one, getting in and out of train cars and going up and down steps…”
Yes, she might. What would she do if all of a sudden, a run started in one leg? Gladys waved toward a display featuring some silky nylons.
Alvina sidled up to the counter. “Mind if I check out, Dottie? I’ve got to get over to the Ladies Aid meeting to plan the Sunday-after-Christmas potluck.”
“No, go right ahead.”
Alvina placed a pair of nylons on the counter. “Remember how hard it was to find these during the war? My sister’s niece out in New York paid eight dollars for a pair one time. Can you believe that?”
“Yes, I sold out of them. A soldier came in one day—wounded and sent home to Heston. He’d met an English girl and wanted to send her some. Guess it was even harder to find stockings there.
“He drove over, all red-faced, and asked for a pair—I only had one, and he scooped it up.”
“Whatever happened to him?”
“He moved to England after the war, found a job, and married that girl—she wouldn’t leave her mother.”
Visions of that run for the whole world to see convinced Dottie to add another purchase. After all, she’d have spent that much anyway, without the discount. All in all, for someone who avoided shopping, Dottie thought she’d done rather well with her purchases, and this morning when she put on the new dress, the mirror declared its approval.
Now, three hours later, Del stopped at a gas station and got out to talk with the serviceman. Al reached over the seat. “Want to get out for a few minutes while Del fills up? We made great time.” His fingers skimmed her hem. “Is this a new dress? Sure like these bright colors on you.”
His eyes revealed something Dottie didn’t recall seeing for a long time. She got out to stretch her legs and use the restroom. When she returned to the car, that look still hovered in Al’s eyes, and the second time she saw it, she put a name to it—pride and pleasure.
Chapter Twenty-Seven
Al closed the grocery bag. “Thanks for bringing us, Del. Your reward is more cookies to eat on the way home.” They shook hands.
“Thanks for helping with things while we’re gone, too.” Dottie shifted her purse. “If you could have Edie stop by and water my fern in the north window?”
“All right. Have a good trip, and give us a call when you get there.” Del reached into his pocket. “Want some extra quarters for the pay phones?”
“Thanks, but I brought a few dollars’ worth. Oh, here”—Al held out a five dollar bill—“take this for the gas. Don’t know how we’d have gotten down here otherwise.”
“All aboard! Car number three. Step right up, folks.”
“No, Dad, you keep that. With that flu lasting so long, we haven’t bought Christmas gifts. Consider this yours, all right?”
“Okay. I left a few things at the store for you and the family. Say hello to Edie and the boys, and have a merry Christmas.”
“All aboard!”
Dottie bit her bottom lip. Her grip on her purse handle would have choked a strong man to death.
Better get her in quickly before she changed her mind. Al picked up the small case, grabbed Dottie’s elbow, and took a step, but she didn’t move.
“Come along, Dot. Time to get on.”
She swallowed. “Al, I’m…”
He saw a little girl with red marks on her legs from her own father’s hand and stood as close to her as possible. Finally, she raised her chin—he’d seen that look before, in battle—eyes too wide, skin too white, teeth clenched. For half a second, he wondered if the trip was worth what she had to go through.
But he pecked her cheek and whispered, “We’ll be together the whole time. I can’t wait to see the U.S. with you beside me. Just keep your mind on little Jeffy Owen and that sweet baby girl.”
Her breath came in uneven spikes. She took a step, faltered, and sought his face again. He squeezed her elbow and spoke right into her ear.
“You’ll be all right, Dot. You can do this.” She swiped at her eyes, but moved with him toward the door. One step up…two. That was all he could have asked.
****
The constant rumble and movement bothered Dottie less each hour, and she loved meeting folks from all over the country. A young couple from Pennsylvania, the Kerns, shared their dinner table. The wife fascinated her with images of their one-hundred-and-fifty-year-old home near Boston.
But her husband, unlike most returned soldiers, needed to talk.
“Bodies piled up—skin and bones waiting for the furnaces.” An involuntary shudder took him. “Rooms full of flea-bitten clothes, rats crawling all over jewelry and silver pieces, treasures prisoners brought with them not knowing they faced certain death.”
He bowed his head. “Never smelled anything so awful.” Dottie’s focus moved from his face to Al’s—she didn’t know which one harbored more distress. Al looked a lot like he had the night he’d proposed—his color faded and his jaw tightened more with each word the man said. At the word furnace, he cringed.
Mrs. Kern patted her husband’s arm. “Leave those memories across the ocean, Benjamin, where they belong.”
The man stared out the window at brown and gray Nebraska countryside. “Those were my people—I can’t stop thinking of them, no matter how I try.”
Al made a fist and stretched his fingers, back and forth, again and again, staring at the back of his hand like some foreign object.
“I need to…I’m…some fresh air.” His voice didn’t sound right. He gave Dottie a glance she couldn’t interpret and staggered toward the back of the car.
****
“Hang on, man. In about five minutes, I have to set the switches. It’s against regulation, but I’ll let you stand on the deck while I work.”
His head between his knees, Al slumped nearby. Any other time, he’d revel in the chance to visit the brakeman’s cupola in the observation car. Trains had fascinated him since he was a teenager. But he didn’t even remember how he got here. The last he remembered, he’d gras
ped the car door, trying to push it open, and a swarthy man approached.
“I’ll have you know, they just delivered this fancy new yellow-painted one in June—used to be red. The yellow’s supposed to attract rich customers, they say.” The brakeman shrugged. “Maybe it’ll work.” He smelled of oil and grease, dirt and sweat.
“You’re not the first—plenty of fellas fresh from the war spent time back here—just needed a little outside air. Something about long hours closed up like this brings out the worst in a man. Nothin’ to be ashamed of—who knows what all they saw. You’re too old for that, though?”
If he expected an answer, he would be disappointed. It was all Al could do to hang onto his dinner. He couldn’t figure why the man brought him up here, except that the air was cooler, even with the windows shut tight. He pressed his back against solid steel and let the cold quench the wildness running through him.
What about Dottie? He’d vowed to take care of her, but now he’d left her with that fellow and his wife. Hopefully, he’d stop rehashing the war, and Dottie would find her way back to their sleeping compartment. He had to get back soon, but not yet—the mention of fresh air hung between him and the brakeman like a promise. Once he got a whiff of it, he’d be all right—he knew he would.
The car swayed as the train slowed. His rescuer jabbed his shoulder. “Here we go. Stay with me.”
He gave the order like a senior officer. The back door opened. The first whoosh of air startled Al, mixed with dusty rail yard exhaust, screeches, and clanks. The brakeman’s face came close to his. “Stand right here. You leave, and I lose my job, hear?”
“I…won’t…leave.” Cool night air widened Al’s windpipe. He straightened against the outer wall, aware of the switchyard’s lights studding the night. He looked up to a velvet sky, unchanged, reliable. The crash of railcars connecting and disconnecting, the exchange of workers’ voices surrounded him. He breathed again, deeper.
Nothing had changed—the world still went on. Trains came and went, people carried out their jobs as always. If that Kern fellow hadn’t talked about those bodies, he’d be all right. But the thought of—no, he mustn’t dwell on what that man saw—especially furnaces. He had enough fire in his own memories—such old recollections—why did they persist?
But none of it mattered now—Dottie mattered, that was all. Al arched his neck and stretched. The love of a good woman waited for him up ahead—he was a lucky man.
Boots on steel stairs, human scents that kept him together during the past half hour, the brakeman’s rough glove on his hand. Brown eyes, real dark, like Dot’s, close and sincere. White around the temples—must be about his age.
“Better now?”
“Better. Thanks.”
“Great War?”
Al nodded. “Yeah—infantry.” The man deserved at least that much.
“Umm.” A heavy hand clapped him on the shoulder. “Me, too.”
****
The train lurched, waking Dottie. Al must have slipped into bed sometime during the night. Now, he drew her close. The shadows in their compartment obscured his face, but something flickered through his eyes.
“You’re all right?”
He didn’t answer, and Dottie didn’t repeat her question. She dozed, but he fidgeted the rest of the night, called out a couple of times, and looked haggard by noon.
“Good meatloaf.”
“Yes, with a tang I can’t trace, too. I can hardly believe I haven’t cooked for two days, Al.”
“Woman of leisure.” His grin belied the dark circles under his eyes.
“Why don’t you take a nap? I’m doing just fine—maybe I’ll sit in the viewing section for a while.”
When he agreed, she knew whatever he’d experienced last night was no passing trouble. Her thoughts flitted back to Monday when she returned from the Wearwithall. Del carried Al’s Army trunk into the kitchen, but the catch broke loose. Some papers fell out, along with a thick envelope.
Al scooped them up, but the envelope escaped, and a purple ribbon attached to a gold heart-shaped medal landed on the floor. Dottie held it out to him, but he shrank away, his voice as gruff as she’d ever heard it.
“Throw that back in the trunk.” He thrashed in bed throughout that night, too.
Hopefully he slept now. Maybe he reacted to traveling more than he let on—strange, because she was doing all right now. She walked through the next car and found a young woman sitting alone.
“Do you mind if I join you?” The girl gestured for her to sit.
“I’m Dottie—Dottie Jensen, from Iowa.”
“Kimiko Tagashi. I go to school in Chicago—Bible school.” Dottie leaned in to hear her quiet voice.
“You’re going home for Christmas?”
The girl nodded.
“Your parents live on the coast?”
They chatted for a few minutes before Kimiko opened her book to study. The murmur of voices in the car lulled Dottie into a dreamy state. Could she really be sitting in a train, having just met a Japanese woman? With the steady roll of the car, her mind traveled to Millie and her family getting ready for Christmas and then back to Al, as always.
She marveled at his patience with her—there in the Fort Madison station, she’d been so reluctant to set foot on the first step. But with her hand in his, she’d found the strength. What would she do without him? Seemed impossible she’d lived so close to him since Owen passed, yet so unaware of his kind spirit.
She didn’t deserve him, that’s all. Why, he thought of her all the time—and he’d put aside everything for this trip. What could she ever give him in return for all he’d done for her? Kimiko took out a spiral notebook, and Dottie couldn’t help noticing the page she turned to, labeled “Internment.” Just then, the girl looked up.
“Oh, sorry—I noticed your title—what does that mean?”
“Internment?” Kimiko’s voice lowered even more than normal. She glanced behind them. “You want to know about this?”
“I’m not sure I’ve heard that word before.”
“After Pearl Harbor, the police sent people like my parents away from their homes. They believed we might have something to do with the attacks.”
The first thing Dottie thought of was Bonnie Mae. She would be furious about this. Next, she thought of the way Sternville people had treated Friedrich and Berta during the war. It happened almost overnight, after somebody made a comment here, another one there. Even at church, people argued about patronizing the jewelry store.
She patted the young woman’s arm. “I’m so glad the war is over—I’ve always wanted to meet someone from Japan. Were you born there?”
“No, ma’am, near Los Angeles. My parents left Japan in 1910.”
“You’re visiting them now?”
“It’s been three full years—when I left, they were interned at Polston. The authorities let me go back to college because my administrator vouched for me. Now…” Again, she surveyed behind the viewing seat she and Dottie shared. “They live farther inland from Los Angeles now, where my father found work on a farm.”
“Has he always been a farmer?”
Kimiko dropped her eyes. Dottie could barely hear her response. “He’s a fisherman, like his father and grandfather before him, but…” She stared out the window for a full minute. “Some people lost everything when they returned from the camps—that’s how it was for my parents.”
“They lost your home?”
Kimiko nodded. “Everything, Mrs. Jensen.”
Dottie didn’t know what to say. They each lapsed into their own thoughts as mile after mile of rocky landscape flew by. Dottie repeated her new name to herself. Dottie Jensen. Mrs. Albert Jensen. She flashed back to the weariness in Al’s face at dinner. Hopefully, he was sound asleep.
Their trip was half over, but even now, only the scenes passing by as they moved steadily westward convinced her she wouldn’t soon wake from a good dream. Soon, she would see Cora. Soon, she would hold Jeffy
and Joy in her arms.
Sometime later, she caught Kimiko’s eye. “Do you have brothers and sisters?”
“Yes, one brother—and one who died in the war. In Tunisia.”
A jolt like electricity hit Dottie. “Tunisia?” That was it—that was where Bill died. “My son died there, too—in ’42.”
“I’m so sorry. That was when my brother died. Do you know anything more?”
“It was a battle at a Pass. I should have it memorized…”
“The Kasserine Pass?”
Dottie held her throat. She could only nod.
“Why, Mrs. Jensen, what if your son and my brother knew each other?”
Dottie pictured Bill and a young Japanese man who looked a lot like Komiko on the same mission. Maybe he hadn’t died alone—maybe someone else was right beside him.
She covered Kimiko’s slim hand with hers. “I think they would have been friends.”
The door opened, and a couple of people shuttled through the car. After a while, Dottie leaned toward Kimiko. “Dear, where is your other brother?”
“I’m not certain. He studied law at Berkeley when the injunction came—the authorities took him to a different camp from the one we stayed in—Manzanar, I think. We lost contact. I heard he went back to finish school. He was almost through his second year when…”
Her jaw worked, and Dottie marveled at her lovely complexion. “We haven’t seen him since then. I’m praying we can all be together now.”
“I didn’t realize people were pulled away from their homes like that. A town near us back in Iowa kept German prisoners of war, but…” The girl’s expression told her anything she might say could cause more pain.
Driving through Algona, not that far west of Sternville, Mrs. Grundy’s son had spied a German work crew out in a field. But Kimiko and her family were Americans.
“My parents taught us to forgive and forget, but I doubt I’ll ever forget that camp. My father became so upset, I thought he might die.”
Her voice became a whisper. “Some men did, and many went back to Japan when they had the chance. The authorities passed laws to keep us from going back to our home and confiscated our property—everything my parents worked so hard to earn.”
In This Together Page 24