Maude

  Sometimes Evelyn would stay in Betty Sue’s room with her, experimenting with different hairstyles. Neither girl was allowed to wear makeup yet, but they would pin up each other’s hair, like Joan Crawford or Merle Oberon, and come downstairs to the kitchen to show it off for me. I would tell them they were as beautiful as the stars, and Evelyn really was. No one in Hollywood was more beautiful, and without so much as a bit of lipstick.

  When the girls were upstairs, Gene would sit on the porch and wait for them. I found small comfort in the fact that Evelyn was only sixteen, the same as Betty Sue, and that she must get a lot of attention from boys. I hoped one of them would draw her away from Gene. After a while, one of them did.

  Evelyn began dating a senior at the high school where she and Betty Sue were in the eleventh grade, and she didn’t spend so much time at our house. Gene sat at the table with a disappointed look on his face every day. It had been few weeks since Evelyn had been to the house before he finally brought up the subject with his sister. “Why don’t you bring Evelyn home with you anymore?”

  Betty Sue finished chewing a bite of her sandwich before she answered him. “She’s been meeting Bobby Hudson at the sweet shop almost every day. They’re an item.”

  I could see that Gene was heartbroken. Even though I hated his pain, I couldn’t help but feel my own heart leap with relief. Maybe the girl was out of our lives. I continued my cooking without comment. Gene left the sandwich I’d made for him, stood and went out to the back porch.

  Through the window, I could see him sitting in the swing, absolutely still, staring out into space. Paul guffawed loudly, spitting pieces of his food out onto the table. “He thought he had plenty of time, now he’s out in the cold.”

  I stared at him. Maybe the boy was smarter than I thought.

  George didn’t come home from work until almost six in the evening and had never met Evelyn. He was totally unaware that his second son had lost his heart, but after a few days of Gene moping around the house, even George noticed that something was wrong. He waited until we’d gone to bed one night before he asked me about it.

  “What’s wrong with Gene? He’s been dragging around here for weeks, and he won’t even talk to me about it.”

  “He’s in love with some girl, and she’s going out with someone else.”

  “What girl? I never heard him say one word about any girl.”

  “Evelyn Mayse, that friend of Betty Sue’s.”

  “I never met her. If she’s a friend of Betty Sue’s, why don’t I know her?”

  “She only stayed here for a little while after school when she came over. She always said she had to go home and help her mother with the other children in the house. She was always gone before you came home.”

  “Well, if she’s seeing someone else, he’ll just have to get over it. There’s plenty of fish in the sea. He’s smart and good-looking and he’s got a good job. How long could it take?”

  I rolled over and turned my back to him. “I don’t know, George, I don’t know.”

  Chapter 42

  I remember every second of the afternoon of December 7th, 1941, a Sunday. Bessie and I were in the living room, making plans for Christmas. Betty Sue and Maxine were upstairs in Betty Sue’s room with a new Silver Screen magazine. George and Paul were napping. Gene was reading in his room.

  I heard the sound of voices shouting outside. Bessie and I went out to the porch. People were gathered in clusters on the sidewalk and in the street, talking loudly, waving their arms, men shaking their fists in the air. Some of the women were crying.

  Bessie went over to a group and asked what had happened. When she came back, her face was white, and she was shaking. I was afraid to hear the news. She grabbed my arm. “Maude, the Japanese bombed the fleet at Pearl Harbor.”

  “Where is Pearl Harbor?” Betty Sue asked.

  Bessie said, “It’s in Hawaii.”

  “What does that mean? What’s going to happen now?” Maxine asked.

  I looked at her, then at Bessie. I didn’t have any idea.

  Bessie frowned. “I don’t know, but we’ll find out soon. Let’s go inside.”

  We turned on the radio and listened to the news.

  I had only one thing on my mind, Gene.

  The news was repeated often, and we listened to it on several stations. After an hour or so, George, Gene and John joined the men out on the street. By late evening, we all finally went to bed. I think Paul was the only one who slept well that night. I lay awake wondering what the future would bring. George worried about Bud, already in uniform. I worried about Gene, whose health seemed to be fully restored. He would be a prime candidate for the draft.

  It would be days before the final tragic toll would be realized, but almost the entire Pacific fleet of the United States had been in port at Pearl Harbor when a Japanese force estimated at 360 planes had started bombing just before eight o’clock that morning. They targeted the ships in port, the American planes sitting on the airstrips, and ground troops stationed on Oahu. Eighteen ships were sunk or greatly damaged, and American forces suffered 3,700 casualties.

  The next day, the President addressed Congress, and it declared war on Japan. On December 11, Germany and Italy, who were war partners with Japan, declared war on the United States.

  It was all anyone talked about. Even in church the next Sunday, the pastor preached a sermon on how it was up to Christians to fight against evil. The male members sat there shouting, “Amen!” The women nodded their heads in agreement. I felt the grip of terror in my heart. We’d all thought that sooner or later, we would have to fight Hitler. Most of us didn’t worry about Japan until that awful day.

  The next morning, Gene didn’t come downstairs at the regular time to get the breakfast I had ready for him. I hoped he was just oversleeping, but in my heart I had a pretty good idea why he wasn’t at the table. I went upstairs and tapped on his door. “You’re going to be late for work, Gene. Better get up.”

  The door opened and Gene, dressed in his church suit and tie, and holding his hat in his hand, stepped out in the hall. “I’m not going to work today, Mom. I’m going down with some of the other men to enlist.”

  I froze, wanting to grab him and hold him but not able to move. I just stood there and stared at him. He wrapped his arms around me and held me close. “I’ll be all right, Mom. We’ll get into this and in a few months it’ll be over. Who did they think they were messing with? Didn’t they know this would be the end of them?”

  I opened my mouth to speak but couldn’t force any sound from my throat. I just nodded and turned to go to the kitchen. Gene followed me downstairs, and I finally found my voice. “Come eat before you go. No telling how long it will take. I hear that every able-bodied man in the country is lining up to enlist.”

  Gene took a seat and buttered a biscuit while I slid his eggs and ham off the plate and back into the frying pan to warm them. Then I put them back on the dish and set it down in front of him. He ate as if he didn’t have a care in the world while I made myself busy around the kitchen. I tried to sound normal when I asked, “What kind of work do you think they’ll have you doing, Gene?”

  He pursed his lips and thought it over. “Well, I heard that men with CCC experience would probably go into the Corps of Engineers, building bridges, roads, that sort of thing.”

  Somehow, this eased my fear a little. If he were building bridges, maybe he wouldn’t have people shooting at him. I sighed and turned to look at him. “Gene, Bud is already in the Army. He’ll have to go. Can’t you stay here?”

  He looked shocked. “Mom, how could I stay here? I have to go, or I’d never be able to show my face. Any man my age with no family has a duty to do.”

  I nodded. “I already made your lunch. You may as well take it with you. You may be gone all day, and I don’t know if they’ll have anything there for you to eat.”

  He stood, hugged me again, and kissed my cheek. “I’ll come straight home as soon as they’re t
hrough with me. Don’t worry. I’ll be fine.”

  He grabbed the lunch pail and hurried out the back door. I stood there looking after him. “Don’t worry,” he’d said.

  A few minutes later, George came into the kitchen and started cooking his bacon. “Gene’s gone down to sign up,” I said.

  George yawned. “I know. He told me last night that he thought it was the right thing to do.”

  I was speechless. George had known this since last night and hadn’t said a word to me, hadn’t made any effort to prepare me? He didn’t even take the trouble to come downstairs and say goodbye to his son.

  I stared at the handle of the cast-iron skillet where the thick slices of bacon hissed as the grease cooked out of them. I wanted to pick it up and hammer George’s head with it. For a moment I hated him, really hated him.

  Then shame filled me. I seemed to fail more and more every day in my search for a state of grace. I would have to pray twice as hard for God to forgive me and to help me to be the Christian woman I wanted to be.

  Gene came home with a sad expression on his face. He was 4F. His injury at the CCC was too severe for him to serve. I couldn’t control my emotions. I was relieved he wouldn’t be in the army, but at the same time, I felt sorry for him. He’d been rejected and felt bad about it. I felt guilt that inside I was celebrating his rejection, but I was filled again with fear for his health. He’d been hurt so much that even in a time of war, he couldn’t serve his country.

  Bud came home on leave with the news that he wouldn’t be shipped overseas right away. He had too much experience and was needed here to help train the hundreds of thousands of men who had joined up since the attack at Pearl Harbor. He would be transferred to Fort Knox, Kentucky, for his new assignment.

  Bud was home for two weeks. He went out drinking almost every night. After the first night, I locked him out. When he came home late, he pounded on the door and woke the whole house. George started to get up and to let him in. I grabbed his arm. “Get back in bed, George. I won’t have a drunk sleeping under my roof. If he wants to stay here, he better get sober and stay that way.”

  “You can’t turn him out, Maude. If he goes overseas, he could be killed. Then how would you feel?”

  “He isn’t likely to get killed in Kentucky unless he starts up drinking too much of that homemade moonshine they make there. He can sleep in the garage, but when he’s drunk, he can’t sleep inside my house.”

  George got out of bed and stood there in his long underwear. “I don’t care what you say. I’m not going to let my son sleep in the garage in the middle of winter.”

  I stood, too. “Tell him to sleep inside John’s truck. He’s got enough alcohol inside him to keep him warm.”

  George shook his head. “I can’t do that, Maude. This is my boy, and I’m the one that pays the rent here, not you. I’m not letting him sleep outside, but I’ll tell him if he wants to sleep inside after tonight, he has to stay sober.”

  If George told him to stay sober, it didn’t do any good. Bud came home drunk every night until the last day of his leave and then finally sobered up for his trip to Kentucky. George and John drove him to the train station to see him off. I didn’t go with them, and I didn’t pack him a lunch to take for his trip. I was glad he was gone. That night I asked God to help me deal with my feelings, or lack of them, for my oldest son and to help me fight hating George for making me feel so helpless. It was as if I had no say over what went on in my own house.

  Gene and Betty Sue had never given me an ounce of grief. Bud and Paul had given me nothing but grief.

  Chapter 43

  One afternoon in April of 1942, Betty Sue came in with Evelyn following quietly behind her. I hadn’t seen Evelyn in months. The girls said a polite hello to me and went up to Betty Sue’s room. I was irritated to have Evelyn back in our home. Gene had just come home from work and gone to take his bath. He would be downstairs soon for his sandwich. I hoped that with the passing of time, and the war and all, he’d gotten over her. I was afraid that seeing Evelyn again would just stir up his old feelings. He hadn’t mentioned another girl since she’d stopped visiting.

  I put the sandwiches on the table, including an extra one for Evelyn, but no one came to get them except Paul. After a few more minutes I walked to the hallway and started to call up the stairs. I put my hand on the banister and opened my mouth, but what I saw made me stop.

  Gene was standing outside Betty Sue’s door, leaning close to it so he could hear what was being said inside. I stood and watched him. I could hear the sound of the girls’ voices but couldn’t make out what they were saying. After a minute Gene tapped on the door. Betty Sue opened it and he went in. I didn’t move. I heard Evelyn crying, then more talking.

  When the door finally opened, I hurried back to the kitchen and stirred the pot of chicken and dumplings I was making for supper. Betty Sue came into the kitchen, followed by Gene holding Evelyn’s hand. Evelyn kept her eyes on the floor. I knew it was going to be bad news and braced myself.

  Gene smiled at me as if he were afraid of me. “Evelyn and I are getting married, Mom. We’re going down to city hall tomorrow.”

  I looked from him to Evelyn, who still kept her eyes down. I knew as sure as I knew anything that it wouldn’t do me any good to fight with him about it. “All right,” I said, and turned my back to them. I was filled with anger, filled with fear for my boy, and fear for myself, but there was nothing I could do to stop it. Gene was determined to marry this girl.

  When I was a child, my mother had tucked me in every night and at first said prayers for me. Then as I grew old enough, she listened to me say my own. After my mother died, I’d said them on my own every night of my life. When I got ready to pray that night, I stopped myself and put it off until another day. For the first time, I went to sleep without talking to God. I knew now I would never attain the sinless state of grace I sought. I felt a seed of hatred growing in my heart for this beautiful girl my precious son loved so much. I knew without a doubt that Evelyn would bring grief into our lives.

  They were married Friday at city hall and the next day Evelyn’s parents brought her clothes and things over to our house. I could see where Evelyn got her looks. Her father was handsome, tall, and well-built. He had black hair, brown eyes, and chiseled features that told of his part-Cherokee family. Evelyn’s beautiful mother was much younger looking than I was. She had golden-brown hair and deep blue eyes, with a rounded figure that must have once been the same as Evelyn’s, but that time and childbearing had filled out to a pleasant, matronly look.

  George welcomed them and he and Gene tried to make them feel comfortable. After they carried Evelyn’s things upstairs to Gene’s room, George asked them to sit down and offered them coffee. They sat in the kitchen and talked a little about their families.

  The men hit it off, George’s charm working as it always did. Evelyn’s father was named Smith, his wife, Ola.

  Smith poured some of the steaming hot coffee into the saucer to cool and sipped it with little slurps. I thought that undignified but ignored it. George told him about our trip to Detroit and Smith nodded his head. “We came from Silver Point, Tennessee, over on the east side of the state. I had a little farm and we kept it going as long as we could, but we never had good bottom land. Some of our fields were so steep it was hard not to fall out of them.”

  The men laughed over the joke and when Smith swayed and almost fell out of his chair, I realized Evelyn’s father had been drinking. I was outraged. It wasn’t even noon.

  Smith went on with his story. “We were just getting by with what crops would grow in such a little bit of rain. We finally gave up when the cow died. There were too many children to be without milk and we didn’t have money to buy another cow. I made a little from the still, but the government men found that and smashed it. I didn’t have money to build another one. We had to come here. A friend got me in at the United Rubber Company.”

  I couldn’t help myself. I burs
t out, “You ran a still?”

  Smith could tell how I felt and he shrugged. “We came from the hill country. A man did what he had to do to feed his family. If the crops failed, he sold whiskey. I got my first still when I was twelve. It meant I was a man. I was finished with school and worked the farm full-time, just like my daddy. He taught me how to plow a hillside, how to tend to the livestock, and how to make corn liquor. Every farmer around had a still. You prayed you wouldn’t need to use it, but when you did, you gave thanks that you didn’t see your children go without eating.” He had no apology or embarrassment in his voice.

  I didn’t have an answer to that. I’d had no idea that such things went on, children quitting school to make moonshine. It certainly wouldn’t have been allowed in my home town. Eastern Tennessee must be an entirely different world from the west side of the state.

  The room became uncomfortable for everyone in it. Smith pushed his cup and saucer away and stood. “Thank you for everything.” He looked directly at Gene, who stood with his arm around Evelyn’s waist, and nodded. “We appreciate it.”

  Gene nodded back at him, blushing at the meaning of his words.

  I knew the Mayses were relieved that Evelyn had married, even under these circumstances. It was no small thing in 1942 for a young woman to be in a family way and not married. She would have been said to have “gotten herself in trouble,” and the whole family would be looked down on.

  I couldn’t even force myself to go beyond not being outright rude. I couldn’t help thinking if they had properly watched over their daughter, this wouldn’t have happened.

  The whole situation was uncomfortable. I was relieved when they left. I stayed in the kitchen while George, Gene, and Evelyn walked them out to their car. George kept talking to Smith until the car finally drove away. When Gene and Evelyn went up to what was now their room, George turned angrily to me. “Maude, what in the world is the matter with you? You could at least be polite.”