by Lynn Austin
Wolter grunted. “If he tells you to quit, I expect you’ll obey him.” It was a statement, not a question. Rosa was about to explode when she felt Tena’s hand on hers. She decided to take Tena’s advice again and hold her tongue.
The truth was, she didn’t know what she would do if Dirk asked her to quit. She remembered how worried poor Ginny had been about breaking the news to her husband tonight and wondered how she was making out. If he was anything like Mr. Voorhees, meek little Ginny would never have the guts to stand up to him. Maybe Rosa should have offered to go over and back her up. She wasn’t afraid to stand up to nobody.
“Please pass the potatoes,” Mr. Voorhees said.
He had changed the subject! Rosa tried not to gape at him in surprise as she handed him the serving bowl. Tena was right. Once he got something off his chest, he dropped it.
After dinner, Rosa helped Tena clear the table, then took a clean towel from the drawer to dry the dishes. “Just leave them on the counter, dear,” Tena said when Rosa started to put the dishes away in the corner cupboard. “I’ll take care of them.”
“You afraid I might chip them or something? You know, it burns me up that you don’t trust me with any job.” She was about to name all the complicated stuff she was learning to do at the factory when Tena looked up at her in surprise.
“Oh, no, no, no, Rosa. Of course I trust you. But there is not much room in this tiny house, and the dishes must go into that cupboard just so if they are going to fit. I’ve had more practice, that’s all.”
Later, they sat in the living room, listening to the news on the radio. Every evening seemed exactly the same to Rosa, with the three of them sitting around like mannequins in a department store window. Wolter hid behind his newspaper, while Tena got out her basket of yarn and knitting needles. The rhythmic clacking of the needles set Rosa’s nerves on edge. Tonight was Friday, the end of a long workweek, and she was bored out of her mind.
“Isn’t there anything to do around here?” she asked with a sigh.
“I could teach you to knit,” Tena offered.
“Heck no!”
Tena’s hands froze; Wolter lowered his newspaper. They stared at Rosa as if she had said the real word.
“Sorry,” she mumbled. “All this bad news about the war has me worked up. It seems like the wrong side is winning, don’t it? Now the blasted Japanese took over another island in the Pacific. I’m dreading the day when it’s Dirk’s turn to go.”
“But Dirk won’t be fighting,” Tena said. “He will work with a ship’s doctor when he finishes his training.”
“I know, but just getting across the ocean is going to be dangerous, with German submarines going after all our ships and trying to sink them.”
“‘Sufficient unto the day is the evil thereof,”’ Mr. Voorhees said.
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
“It means that today’s worries are enough. Don’t borrow from tomorrow’s.”
“But I can’t help worrying! The whole world is at war, and someday soon Dirk is going to be shipped out into the middle of it, too.”
Mr. Voorhees shook his head. “‘Take therefore no thought for the morrow,’ Jesus said, ‘for the morrow shall take thought for the things of itself.”’
“Jesus talked in riddles,” Rosa mumbled.
Mr. Voorhees leaned toward her. “Pardon?”
“Look, I’m scared for Dirk, okay? I love him and I don’t want anything to happen to him.”
“Dirk is in God’s hands,” he said quietly. “We can only pray.”
“Well, I don’t know much about prayer, but I’m pretty sure it won’t help me stop worrying.”
She rose from her chair, too restless to stay seated, and tuned the radio to a station that played music. But before the usual Friday-night shows came on, the Office of War Information gave an announcement, telling people how important it was for women to go to work in defense factories. “If you’re an American citizen,” the announcer pleaded, “we need you.”
Rosa glanced at Mr. Voorhees to see his reaction. She was tempted to say, “See? That’s why I’m working.” But he had his face hidden behind the newspaper once again. Besides, she had promised Tena that she wouldn’t argue with him anymore.
Rosa sighed and slumped back into her chair. It was the weekend, for crying out loud. She should be out having fun, not sitting here with two of the world’s most boring people. If only she had someone to talk to, laugh with. Didn’t her in-laws know how to have a little fun? She stood up.
“I’m going to go write Dirk a letter,” she said, stretching. “Then I’m going to bed.” She did write the letter, telling him all about her first week at work and how much she wanted to keep her job.
Please don’t tell me to quit, she begged Dirk. I need to do something to keep from going crazy—and the navy needs me to build lots more boats for the war.
But when she finished the letter, she combed her hair and put on lipstick and her nicest party dress. Then she turned off her bedroom light and paced restlessly around the room, waiting for Dirk’s parents to go to bed. She couldn’t believe she’d lived here two whole weeks already. Things sure were different from her life back home—if you could even call it a home. Rosa could count six different apartments she and her mother had lived in when she was growing up.
The girls at work today had all been talking about going to college, and Rosa had felt like a Dumb Dora. What would they think of her if they knew she hadn’t even finished high school? And the nerve of that schoolteacher correcting her grammar! Rosa had felt like socking her. What did that old bat expect when Rosa had been forced to change schools every time her mother had changed jobs and apartments? Her mother had called herself a cocktail waitress, but the kinds of dumps that Mona Bonelli had worked in were nothing but dives. They made the Hoot Owl down the block look like the ballroom at the Waldorf-Astoria!
What would it have been like to grow up in a home like Dirk’s—a place that was clean and orderly, with good, warm food on the table and apple pie in her lunchbox every day? It might have been nice to have a mother like Tena—even if Rosa couldn’t seem to do anything to suit her. But she never would have wanted a father like Wolter bossing her around.
“Dirk is so much like his father,” Mrs. Voorhees had said. Could that be true? Would Dirk expect her to settle down and be a homebody like his mother who cleaned all day and cooked huge meals and never talked back? Rosa hoped not. She could never be like Mrs. Voorhees in a million years.
At last Rosa heard her in-laws going to bed. She waited ten more minutes, then slid her bedroom window open and climbed out. She wouldn’t stay at the Hoot Owl very long—just long enough to have a few drinks, a few laughs, maybe a dance or two. Long enough to help her stop missing Dirk so much that she wanted to cry.
CHAPTER 8
* Jean *
By the time Jean finished all her paper work at the end of her shift, the line of people waiting to punch out at the time clock was composed entirely of men. She kept her head lowered as she joined them, bracing for the usual comments from the other crew chiefs. She didn’t have long to wait.
“Hey, Jean. I saw those sorry-looking co-workers of yours trying to solder their fingers together today.”
“Shut up, Doug.”
“Think you can teach that pinup girl to solder?” someone asked.
“Hey, that doll can solder my wires anytime she wants,” Doug replied. Whistles and hoots filled the air.
“By the time Jean’s girls get through working on our ships,” another man added, “the Nazi submarines won’t have to sink them—they’ll sink all by themselves!”
Jean ignored the rowdy laughter that followed. Then the man in front of her whirled around to face her. “All I can say is, your girls better not be getting a man’s pay, because it takes twice as many of you to keep up with us.”
“Yeah, this place is falling way behind schedule,” someone behind her said.
“But
did you notice how nice and neat the girls’ tools always look?” Doug pranced in place, imitating a woman brandishing a feather duster. More laughter followed.
“I’ll be glad when the war ends and the girls all go back to the kitchen where they belong.”
The last comment made Jean’s blood boil. It took every ounce of restraint she had not to lash back. She finally punched her time card and hurried toward the exit. Earl Seaborn held the door open for her, then followed her outside.
“You’re wise to ignore them, Jean. They’ll soon tire of this game.”
“My brothers used to tease me all the time, too, but I knew they respected me underneath it all. This heckling seems different.”
“Those guys feel threatened, that’s all.”
“Oh yeah? You could have fooled me.” Jean had been walking briskly, fueled by anger, but her steps slowed when she saw the same group of men congregating at the bus stop. She made up her mind to walk home, in spite of the cool weather, rather than put up with their jibes all the way home. In fact, she needed to cross the street right now to avoid walking past them. Jean looked both ways, surveying the busy street, waiting for the traffic to clear.
“The men who were employed here before the war,” Earl continued, “never had to work with women—much less compete with them.” Jean turned at the sound of his voice, surprised to find him still waiting with her. “You and the other women are plowing new ground, showing the world what you’re made of,” he finished.
“I wish the war would hurry up and end so I could say good-bye to this job and all those jerks and get on with my studies. But every time I read the newspaper or listen to the news on the radio, it seems like the war is going to last forever. Have you heard the latest?”
“I know, it’s all bad news. The Japanese have overrun most of Southeast Asia, and now they’ve set their sights on Australia. The Germans are pounding the Russians at Stalingrad, while more of them are trampling across North Africa with General Rommel the same way they rolled across Europe. Meanwhile, their U-boats control the North Atlantic and are laying mines in Chesapeake Bay. No, the war doesn’t seem to be going well at all for our side. … But about the other crew chiefs, Jean. Don’t let them get to you. Some guys don’t feel like real men unless they have a woman to push around.” His comment suddenly reminded Jean of Ginny’s dilemma.
“Listen, Earl, I should probably warn you—one of my crew members may have to quit. Her husband sounds a lot like those guys,” she said, gesturing to the crowd at the bus stop, “and he may not let her come back to work on Monday.”
“Oh no. That’ll set back production an entire week if you have to train a replacement.”
“I know. But there’s not much anybody can do about it, unless you want to go talk some sense into Mr. Mitchell. See you Monday.”
“Jean, wait.” He rested his hand on her arm to stop her. “I was wondering … How about a movie tonight?”
His face wore such a hopeful expression that she had to turn away to keep from giving in. Going to the movies with Earl sounded much more appealing than spending an evening with her sister and three rowdy nephews. But Jean had finally received a letter from Russell, telling her how lonely he was and how much he missed her. He’d sworn that he had never even looked at another girl—and Jean had felt guilty ever since for agreeing to be friends with Earl. She scrambled for a way to let him down gently.
“I don’t think so, Earl. I’m pretty tired.”
“How about tomorrow night, then? Or maybe a Sunday matinee?”
“I don’t think so. … But thanks anyway.” His gentle persistence loaded on more guilt, like adding another passenger to an overcrowded bus. She saw a break in the traffic and sprinted across the street, waving good-bye to him over her shoulder. “See you Monday.”
As Jean had feared, she arrived home to chaos once again. Her nephews had overturned all of the kitchen chairs to build a fort, and they howled like banshees as they fought imaginary enemies. The baby stood in his playpen, howling along with them. Judging by the smell, he needed a diaper change.
“Want to do something after supper?” Patty asked above the din. “We can take the kids to the drugstore for ice cream, or maybe there’s a children’s movie playing.”
Jean stifled a groan as she stepped over the mess, making her way across the kitchen. She longed for peace and quiet—and solitude. If she had wanted to spend Friday night at home with a bunch of kids she would have married Russell and had her own. Jean wanted out of here. She made up her mind to go to the show alone.
“Sorry, Patty, but someone already asked me to the movies.” It wasn’t really a lie. Someone had asked her. She didn’t need to add that she had refused him. “Maybe we can do something tomorrow night.”
She helped Patty straighten the kitchen and set the table, then washed and dried the supper dishes to try to ease her guilt. It didn’t help. As she said good-bye to Patty and closed the front door on the noisy household, guilt weighed Jean down like a pocket full of rocks.
The lights on the movie marquee a few blocks away cheered her a bit. They were showing an Andy Hardy movie starring Mickey Rooney. She joined the line at the ticket booth and was daydreaming about Russell when Earl Seaborn walked up behind her.
“I see you changed your mind, Jean. Did you get a sudden burst of energy?” He looked so hurt that for a moment she didn’t know what to say. She decided on the truth.
“I am tired, Earl, and I was going to stay home, but I live with my sister, and she has three boys under the age of four, and I—”
“You don’t owe me an explanation.”
“Yes, I do. I needed to get out of there, so I decided to come here for a little peace and quiet. But the real reason I turned you down this afternoon was because I got a letter from my boyfriend this week, and I realized that I wouldn’t like it if he went to the movies with someone else.”
“I told you, I just want to be friends.”
“Well, I don’t think that’s a very good idea.”
“I see.” He looked away. Jean might have felt better if he had gotten angry and told her off, but his quiet forbearance made her feel like a heel. The tension between them grew until it felt like a cable about to snap. She paid for her ticket, then waited while he purchased his.
“Listen, Earl, this town is full of girls who are free to date. Why don’t you ask—”
“I have asked. Nobody wants to be seen with a guy who isn’t in uniform. I’m a disgrace.”
“It’s not your fault.”
He shrugged and walked away. Jean went inside and waited in line at the candy counter. Earl stood in line for popcorn. There weren’t many empty seats left in the crowded theater, and she had trouble finding one. Earl wandered down the aisle a few minutes later searching for an empty one, too. The guilt-rocks in her pockets began to weigh her down like boulders, and she wanted to be rid of them. She waved to get his attention.
“There’s a seat right here, Earl.” She pointed to the empty one beside hers.
“Are you sure? Because if you want me to go away, I will.”
“No, I’m really, really sorry. Sit, already. The show is starting.”
Earl sat. When the cartoon ended and the newsreel began, he held out his box of popcorn to her. “Want some?”
“No, thanks.”
He didn’t speak again during the entire show. When it ended, they both stood up to leave at the same time. “Want to go somewhere for a bite to eat?” he asked.
“No, thanks. I ate a huge dinner … and I should get home.”
“Would you like me to walk you? It’ll be pretty dark outside if they decide to have a blackout drill. And I’m going your way.”
“Okay.” She didn’t have the heart to refuse him again.
They filed out of the theater with the rest of the crowd, walking side-by-side. Neither of them spoke. By the time they turned onto Jean’s street, the silence between them had become tense once again. Earl was a nice guy
, and Jean knew she owed it to him to make things right.
“I am really sorry about what happened tonight, Earl. But things get much too complicated when men and women try to be friends, don’t you agree?”
He shook his head. “No, because if everyone feels the way you do, I’ll be alone until the war ends. All of my buddies are in the service, and the only friends I have left are women.”
“I see what you mean. Then I guess it must be lonely for my boyfriend, too. He’s the only guy in my graduating class who didn’t enlist.” They climbed the steps to Jean’s front porch and stopped by the door.
“Would it bother you if your boyfriend took a girl to the movies?” Earl asked. “If you knew they were just friends?”
“Truthfully? Yeah, it would. That’s what I was thinking about when I turned you down this afternoon. … Anyway, thanks for walking me home. See you Monday.”
“Out with the boss again, hey?” Patty said as she came inside. It irked Jean that her sister had been spying on her—but at least she would never know that Jean had lied to her.
“Earl and I are just friends.”
“Sure you are.” She gave Jean a knowing look.
“I’m in love with Russell Benson,” Jean said stubbornly—even though she wasn’t entirely sure that it was true. She and Russell had never spoken about love.
“What movie did you see? How was it?”
Earl had just told Jean how lonely he was, and she realized that Patty was lonely, too, tied down with three kids and her husband away. Jean decided to sit down with her for a few minutes and tell her all about the movie, mostly to ease her own guilt.
“It’s a good thing you didn’t go tonight, Patty. The newsreel they showed before the film was of London after a Nazi bombing. I don’t know how I’m going to get those images out of my mind. And since Bill is stationed near there …”
“Yeah, you’re right. Good thing I didn’t see it. If anything ever happened to Bill, I don’t know how I’d ever raise three boys without him. It’s hard enough to cope until the war ends.”