by Lynn Austin
“We have never talked about it … but would you like me to come to the hospital with you?”
Rosa had never dared to ask Tena to come with her, afraid that she wouldn’t want to be bothered with her, like Rosa’s own mother. But as tough and as street-smart as Rosa might be in other situations, she admitted to herself that she was scared half to death right now. She didn’t want to go through this ordeal alone.
“Would you?” she asked.
“Of course. Let me help you get changed.”
Ginny offered to stay at the hospital with Rosa, too, and the two older women settled in with her for a long night. They walked up and down the hospital corridors with her as the hours passed, kept track of the time between contractions for her, and sat at her bedside, soothing her as the labor pains came and went.
“Don’t think about how bad it hurts,” Tena said as another pain squeezed Rosa like a wringer. “Think about holding your baby soon. Think about what he will look like. When you hold him in your arms, you will be holding a little part of Dirk.”
The pain finally eased again. Tena’s words had helped. But Rosa still feared motherhood more than she feared giving birth. “You should be having this baby, Ginny, not me. I’m scared I’m going to be a terrible mother.”
“Never! Motherhood is all about giving love,” Ginny said. “And you have so much love to give. You’ve worked your way into everyone’s heart at the shipyard—even Helen’s. I knew her when she was a teacher, and I always felt so sorry for her. She was so aloof and alone, estranged from everyone. But she opened her heart to you. She talks about you all the time and asks if we’ve seen you. She said to be sure to call her with the news when the baby comes.”
Rosa felt another labor pain start to build, and she groaned as she gripped the sheets, bracing herself. “Only three minutes apart this time,” Tena said. “You’re getting close.” She wiped Rosa’s forehead when the contraction finally ended.
“I loved being a mother,” Ginny said. “I guess that’s why I felt so lost when my family didn’t need me anymore.”
“You must have done your job very well, then,” Mrs. Voorhees said. “Children are supposed to grow up and leave the nest and fly on their own. Of course, we want to hold them close, and we want them to always need us. But that is not healthy for them or for us. Today Rosa’s little one will take his first step in outgrowing his mother. Children are their own persons; they are not part of us.”
“But do they have to go to the other extreme?” Ginny asked. “I felt as if my family didn’t even notice me anymore. They didn’t see me as my own person. And I didn’t know who I would be without my role as a mother. That’s why I went to work in the shipyard.”
“Mothers give and give and give, unselfishly,” Tena said. “We—”
“Not my mother,” Rosa said. “My mother only thought about herself.”
“That’s very sad,” Tena said. “She missed out on so much. It is the hardest job there is, to love unselfishly. Mothers are often ignored and rarely thanked. But Jesus said that the most important command is to love God and love others. So that tells me that being a wife and a mother is one of the most important jobs in the world. I am not just serving my family, I am serving God. And only He can make you feel fulfilled.”
“I never thought of it that way,” Ginny said softly.
“And, Ginny, you are still a mother, even after your children leave home. Later on, their love comes back to you, multiplied. They get married, you see, and their wives become your children, too.” Tena looked down at Rosa and smiled. “Then they give you grandchildren. Wait until you see how wonderful grandchildren are!”
Rosa tried to stifle a groan of pain but couldn’t. “Tell your grandchild to hurry up! I can’t take this much longer. Can’t they do something to make it stop hurting?”
The pain quickly became one long, unending flame. Tena gave Rosa’s hand a final squeeze before the nurses chased her and Ginny to a waiting room and wheeled Rosa down the hall to the delivery room. Pushing her baby into the world felt like the hardest work Rosa had ever done.
But then came a rush of joy like nothing she had ever felt before. Her son, her perfect little baby boy, lay warm and whimpering in her arms. He had dark hair like her own and a very red face. And the tiniest little hands she had ever seen with fingernails like drops of candle wax. The poor little fella had Dirk’s pointy ears, but she loved him anyway. Oh, how she loved him! She kissed him over and over again.
“Thanks for finally coming out,” she murmured. “I’ve been waiting to see you. I’m going to take real good care of you, you’ll see.”
She would call him Joseph, the name Dirk had picked out. Rosa never imagined that she could love someone as much as she loved Dirk, but her love for little Joseph welled up inside her until it overflowed in tears. He hadn’t done a single thing to make her love him yet and had caused her ten long hours of pain. But she loved him. This must be what Jean meant when she said God loved His children enough to die for them.
Joseph was so fragile and vulnerable. He needed Rosa in order to live. And they both needed Dirk. She closed her eyes in exhaustion and prayed.
“God, I have nothing to offer you. But if you take care of Dirk for me, I’ll take care of this little baby for you the best way I know how.”
PART THREE
1944
“Courage is the first of human qualities because
it is the quality which guarantees all others.”
WINSTON CHURCHILL
CHAPTER 33
April 1944
“Allied airplanes have been methodically strafing and bombing
the coast of northern France in preparation for the expected invasion.
Some two thousand planes have taken part.”
* Jean *
The town of Stockton seemed like a beautiful place to Jean as she walked to work on a warm spring day in April. But her mood darkened when she opened her locker and found yet another threatening letter calling her a “Nigger lover.” She quickly changed into her work clothes, then brought the letter to Earl, as he’d asked her to do. As she neared his cubicle, she saw that it had been vandalized once again.
“Not again,” she moaned. The vandalism had happened so often in the four months since Thelma joined Jean’s crew that Earl might as well give up cleaning it.
“Here’s another letter,” Jean said, handing it to him. “I found it in my locker this morning. Is it my imagination or is the racial tension here at the shipyard going from bad to worse?”
Earl gestured for Jean to sit in the chair in front of his desk. “It’s not your imagination. The pressure to get rid of Thelma has escalated almost daily. First she found threatening letters stuck to her time card or stuffed among her tools, saying Whites only and Quit or else. Then she said that people started jostling her and elbowing her and tripping her whenever she stood in line at the punch clock, or headed to the lunchroom, or moved through the exit doors when the shifts changed. I warned her never to be alone in the factory or outside on the grounds. I’ve started meeting her at the door before every shift and escorting her out at the end of the day.”
“I don’t understand what these troublemakers want,” Jean said as she gazed at the black paint splattered on Earl’s walls.
“Me either. Integrated washrooms are the big issue in other factories, but ours are still segregated—and we’re breaking the law by keeping them segregated, I might add. No one is being forced to work with Thelma, so why all this hatred and venom?”
“I guess it’s the only thing some people know,” Jean sighed. “I never saw such prejudice back home. Maybe I’ve been sheltered.”
“What about the other two women on your crew—Ginny and Helen? Is this unrest bothering them?”
“If it is, they haven’t said anything. Should I go ask them?”
“Better yet, let’s have a meeting about it right now, here in my office.”
Jean quickly found Helen and Gi
nny, and the three of them squeezed into Earl’s cubicle. “I see someone has redecorated your office again,” Helen said, gazing around at the mess.
Earl nodded. “This problem seems to be growing, and I’m getting worried. I’m sure you are, too. I want you to know that if you would like to change shifts or transfer to another crew, everyone will understand.”
“I’m not abandoning Thelma,” Helen said. “I’m standing beside her. I’ll admit that I’m getting tired of looking over my shoulder all the time, but if we quit now, then the racists win. And at least there’s one small victory to celebrate. Did you read about the Supreme Court decision in Smith v. Allwright? They declared that all-white election primaries are against the law. Negroes must be allowed to vote in them.”
“That’s great,” Earl said, “but why has progress been so slow? Negroes won the right to vote after the Civil War. Why are they still being prevented from voting in 1944?”
“I don’t know,” Helen said, “but it’s outrageous.”
“How about you, Ginny?” Earl asked. “We’ll all understand if you’ve had enough.”
“I’m not quitting,” she said softly.
Her answer surprised Jean. It usually didn’t take much to frighten timid Ginny. She barely had the courage to stand up to her husband. “Are you sure?” Jean asked her. “I know you’ve found threatening letters in your locker, too.”
“Yes, I’m sure.”
“What about you, Jean?” Earl continued. “Are you certain that you want all this pressure? I know that some of the men were pretty hard on you even before Thelma joined us. And this racial tension is getting serious.”
“I’ve made up my mind not to let them scare me,” Jean said. “My twin brother, Johnny, is a gunner on a B-26, flying bombing raids over Germany. He’s standing up to a far more powerful adversary than I am.”
“And it looks like we’re winning over there, too,” Earl said. “The invasion of Europe can’t be too far off. It’s what the soldiers are all preparing for. In the meantime, let’s hope we win this racial battle, too. Okay, ladies. I guess you can go back to work.”
Jean noticed how quiet Ginny had been during the meeting and drew her aside when they were alone at the tool station. “Are you okay, Ginny? You don’t need to stay on my crew just because Helen does. If you feel threatened at all, please let me know.”
“No, I meant it when I said I wanted to stand beside Thelma. She’s been so brave through all of this.” Ginny paused, staring down at her feet. “But these cowards who are harassing us don’t even have the courage to confront us face-to-face, and they made me realize what a coward I am. I still haven’t confronted Harold about his philandering.”
“Do you know for certain that he is?”
“No, I haven’t found any more evidence, but I never did ask him about the receipt for the flowers.” She lifted her chin and drew a deep breath as if summoning her courage. “If Thelma and our soldiers overseas can be courageous, then it’s high time I faced things head on, too.”
Jean knew that Ginny was doing the right thing, but she couldn’t help worrying about how she would ever recover if her husband did leave her for another woman. “Once you know the truth, there will be no turning back, you know.”
“I know,” Ginny said softly. “So I need to decide what I’m going to do in the event that … that he is philandering.”
Jean squeezed her shoulder. “Good luck, Ginny. You’re stronger than you think you are. And you can always turn to your friends.”
Jean was still thinking about Ginny’s dilemma at the end of the workday when Earl stopped her on her way out the door. “A little birdie told me that you have a birthday coming up next week, Miss Erickson. I was wondering if you would you like to go out dancing again to celebrate?”
Jean wanted to accept his invitation, but she hesitated. “Can I think about it and let you know?”
“Sure.” Earl’s grin wavered. She had hurt his feelings. He couldn’t seem to help wearing his heart on his sleeve, as Jean’s mother used to say, where it was plain to see.
“It’s not like I’m waiting to see if I get a better offer,” she explained. “It’s just that you caught me by surprise, that’s all.”
He laid his hand on her arm. “You don’t owe me an explanation, Jean. Let me know when you decide, okay?”
She pondered Earl’s offer on the long walk home. The spring day was still magnificent with new buds on the trees and forsythia in bloom. She passed daffodils and tulips in people’s yards and was tempted to pick them. What was it about springtime that made her feel like dancing?
Jean had been out dancing with Earl two times, first for the War Bond rally and then on New Year’s Eve. Both times, Earl had shown her a good time. On New Year’s Eve, as midnight approached, they had stood together on the dance floor, counting down with the rest of the crowd: “Five … four … three … two … one! Happy New Year!” Earl had pulled Jean into his arms and kissed her. It had felt so natural—and so exciting—that she’d wanted him to kiss her again. Her reaction had stunned her. What about Russ? She wouldn’t like it if he kissed another girl, whether it was New Year’s Eve or not. Now she didn’t know if she should go out with Earl again.
She longed to confide in someone who could help her sort out her feelings, but she wasn’t sure who it should be. Her sister Patty wouldn’t be objective because she didn’t like Russ. And it would be too awkward to ask Ginny or Helen, since Earl was their boss. She decided to wait and see what Russ had to say in his birthday card. But the week passed without a letter or a card from Russ.
On Sunday—another gorgeous spring day—Jean ran into Rosa at church. Her baby was four months old already and growing fast. Joseph had a head of wild, dark curly hair like Rosa’s and chubby, rosy cheeks.
“Look at him!” Jean gushed as she lifted him into her arms. “I’ve always been fairly immune to cute babies, having grown up with seven younger brothers, but this little guy is special. Even Helen says so—and think of all the children she’s seen in her lifetime.”
Rosa beamed at the praise. “I know. Helen gave me a camera for a present so I could send pictures of him to Dirk. Hey, want to walk home with us? I’ve been taking Joey to and from church in your sister’s baby carriage now that the weather’s nice.”
“Yeah, sure. That’ll give us time to talk.”
Rosa settled Joey in the carriage, tucking a blanket around him, and they started on their way. “You have to tell me all about the gang at work—and about Mr. Seaborn, too.”
Jean felt a stab of guilt. She had left Earl’s offer dangling all week and knew she needed to give him an answer soon.
“Can I tell you something, Rosa? And can you promise not to tell anyone—not even Ginny or Helen?”
“Yeah, sure.”
“I went out dancing a couple of times with Earl Seaborn.”
“No kidding? Is he a pretty good dancer?”
“Yeah, he’s great—and he’s a lot of fun to be with, too. He even—” She paused. Rosa looked like she was about to burst into laughter or song, or maybe dance a jitterbug. “What’s going on, Rosa? Why do you have that look on your face?”
“Me? What look?”
“I don’t know—like you’re up to something.”
“I’m just glad to hear you’re going dancing. You used to tell me all the time how much you love to dance.” Rosa still looked like she had a secret she was dying to share, but Jean went on.
“Well, Earl asked me to go out dancing next week for my birthday, but I’m feeling a little guilty. I have a boyfriend, you know. Russ and I have been together for almost four years and I like him a lot.”
“What do you like about him?”
“Well …” Jean paused, listening to the carriage wheels thumping on the cracks in the sidewalk. Rosa’s question stumped her. Why couldn’t she think of a dozen things she liked about him? “He’s very good-looking …” she began, then realized how shallow that made her soun
d. She searched for something better. “He’s part of me, I guess, part of my past. We’ve shared a lot of good times together—Russ and Johnny and Sue and me.”
Her answer sounded so feeble. Was that the best she could do? Maybe it was because she and Russ had been apart for so long that she’d forgotten what she liked about him. And he wasn’t very good at writing regularly. Jean and Rosa stopped at an intersection and waited for the traffic to clear. When they’d crossed to the other side, Jean changed the subject.
“Earl and I are just good friends,” she insisted, “and I want to keep it that way. But both times when he took me home I started imagining how it would feel to kiss him good-night. I didn’t kiss him, of course, but the thought made me feel so guilty. Like I was cheating on Russ. Have you ever gone out with two different guys at the same time?”
“Oh, sure. Most girls do.”
“Is it wrong to be a two-timer like that?”
“Mr. Seaborn knows all about Russ, right? So you’re not twotiming him. Did you ever promise Russ that you wouldn’t go out dancing with a friend?”
“Not in so many words … But Russ never takes me dancing, so does that mean I have to sit home for the rest of my life and never dance again?”
“Of course not! You’re too young to give up dancing! These should be the best years of your life. You deserve to have a little fun, be a little independent before you settle down and get married. You’re not engaged to Russ, are you?”
“No, but I don’t want to do anything to lose him.”
Rosa stopped walking and faced Jean, her hands on her hips. “Listen, if he gets sore because you went dancing with a friend—when he won’t even take you himself—then I say good riddance.”
“But my life would be so empty without him.”
The baby had kicked off the blanket, so Rosa tucked it around him again before they resumed walking.