A Matter Of Trust

by Sherrilyn Polf

  “What’s so funny?” asked Stuart as he, Mary, Emily, and Floyd came off the dance floor. She and Clay were no longer alone.

  “Dena just said something funny.” He looked at her, his eyes saying how much he appreciated their conversation.

  “Well I hate to break up a good time, but it’s getting close to midnight and we must get going,” Stuart said as he wrapped Mary’s cape around her shoulders.

  “Oh.” Clay rose, not taking his eyes off Dena. “I hope I see you again soon.”

  Dena knew it was heartfelt. She glanced at him and then looked fully into his handsome face and smiled. She said nothing.

  “You will, Clay. I need to meet with you, and you too, Floyd, as well as Carl, next Wednesday. It has to do with my next film documentation.” Stuart spoke quietly, but his voice was firm.

  “Sure. Where?”

  “How about meeting in the cafeteria about two? Will you tell Carl?”

  Clay nodded, slowly. It was followed by a perplexed look. The cafeteria wasn’t really private or quiet. Stuart must have his reasons. Dena picked up her light wrap and clutch purse and followed the small group into the cool night, looking over her shoulder to see Clay and Floyd walk over to a group of guys. Clay stood to the side watching her leave. A couple of guys eyed him curiously. She would like to believe he was thinking about her.

  ***

  On the short walk to the bus stop, Stuart said his coupe wouldn’t hold the four of them. Plus because of the pending war, he thought it would be better if they rode the bus. Dena grimaced at Stuart’s mere mention of war. It had been a perfect evening until he mentioned war. She found nothing funny or romantic about it. All four sat huddled next to each other. Dena stared out the window. Her head was full of thoughts of dancing with Clay. She smiled. Looking at the full moon, she wondered, what do Californians call it at this time of year? At home, it was called a harvest moon—a Colorado harvest moon. She sighed.

  “This is our stop, ladies,” Stuart spoke quietly. He made sure they stayed close together. Even with a full moon, shadows lurked. As they stepped off the bus, Dena had uneasy feeling she often got, the one where the hair actually stood up on her neck. She shuddered. Looking around, she couldn’t see any reason for her discomfort.

  “I’ll wait until you two get in the house before I take Mary home,” Stuart said as they neared the house.

  “Thanks.” Dena felt relieved. She knew Mary lived three houses down. Stuart and Mary had been sweethearts since high school just like Susan and Grant. Hand on the gate, she glanced around once more. She was leery of being out so late. At home, she liked walking at night. She liked hearing the crickets, owls, and seeing small animals scurrying. Suddenly two men leaped out of the shadows.

  “Hey, Stuie, how come you get to take three beautiful girls to the dance, and we have to go alone? I think you should share at least one with us. How about the pretty brunette?” the taller one slurred. He stood a few feet in front of Stuart with his hands planted on his thin hips and feet set apart. The shorter one laughed. Dena saw a bottle in his hand. Stuart squared his shoulders. He was careful not to show he was afraid.

  “Yeah. How about it, Stuie? Share this one.” The shorter man groped for Emily with his free hand. She stepped back quickly, sliding her hand behind her back.

  “Inside,” Stuart hissed at the girls, pushing all three girls into the yard. He yanked the gate shut hard. The clank of the metal echoed. Fighting was not his way, but if he had to he would. “You know this isn’t necessary. We can settle this in an adult manner. Besides, the dance is over.”

  “Sure. Put ’em up, Stuie boy.” The shorter man lunged forward and took a swing at Stuart. His bottle flew through the air, landing on the curb. The sound of shattered glass caused Dena to shudder and scoot closer to Mary and Emily. The scene was almost unreal— as if she were rooted in a bad movie. She wanted to scream, but no sound came out. The word pray popped into her mind. Dena tried. Words didn’t come.

  Stuart sidestepped the short man, shoving him to the ground. The short man looked astonished. The taller man laughed at his partner. Dena shuddered at his ugly laugh.

  Just at that moment, the porch light came on and the door opened. Dena jumped, bumping into Emily and Mary.

  “Stuart,” boomed a gruff male voice. “Are you okay? I’ve called the police.” A large shadow appeared.

  “Come on!” the taller man hissed grabbing his buddy’s arm dragging him to his feet. Their heavy footsteps could be heard echoing down the empty street.

  Mary ran to Stuart. They both stood for a few seconds in the glare of the street light just to be sure the two assailants were gone.

  “Come on, Mary,” Stuart urged. “Let’s get you home before there’s any more trouble.” She smiled up at him and took his elbow. They walked into the shadows. Only their steps sounded on the pavement. Uncle Walter stepped aside to let Dena and Emily into the house, while he waited for Stuart to return.

  “Daddy, are the police coming?”

  “No, I just said that to scare those boys away,” Uncle Walter smiled at his daughter. “You girls go to the parlor. When Stuart returns, we need to talk.”

  “Come in here and sit down, son.” Uncle Walter ordered as soon as Stuart returned. Stuart sat next to Emily and looked up at his dad. “Do you know those boys?” Uncle Walter studied each face. Dena shook her head no.

  “No, Dad, I don’t think I do,” Stuart admitted, rubbing his hands together.

  “I do. I don’t know their names, just their faces,” Emily said in a barely audible voice. Her face paled.

  “Well?”

  “They come in the cafeteria every day and tease all of us. No one likes them. The short guy had asked me to the dance, and I turned him down,” she said, looking at her dad. “He got really mad. I guess he doesn’t take rejection well.”

  “Evidently not.” Uncle Walter’s lips tightened into a thin line. He looked at Emily. “I don’t want you working at the cafeteria anymore. You need to turn in your notice Monday. And I don’t want you or Dena to walk alone.”

  Emily’s eyes widened and tears welled up. “But Dad, what will I do?”

  “I’m not implying, Emily, that you have done anything wrong. I’m doing this for your safety.” Then he turned to his wife. “I know that Emily is to start to work at the typing pool after the first of the year, but Doreen, I think we need to see if she can start now, say filing and general office work.”

  Aunt Doreen nodded slowly. Dena hadn’t notice that she had come into the room.

  “Well, let’s all go to bed. We’ll talk more tomorrow.” Uncle Walter stood, signaling for everyone else to do the same. Dena walked slowly up the stairs. She wasn’t sure anything was settled. What happened tonight really frightened her.

  Chapter Seven

  With November came rain. In fact, it had rained almost nonstop for two weeks. Dena stood in the cafeteria doorway, waiting for Emily. She couldn’t believe she hadn’t brought more winter clothes. It never occurred to her that sunny California would have winter weather. She had stayed cold constantly until Aunt Doreen took her shopping for sweaters, woolen dresses, jumpers, and skirts. And also a medium-weight woolen jacket shoes and boots. She certainly didn’t want to catch cold and be home sick.

  “I have to go to the library,” Emily said, as she came up beside her. “Do you want to come?”

  “No, I think I’ll go home. It looks like rain,” Dena shook her head, rubbing her coat for warmth. Emily nodded. The unsavory men who had threatened them the night of the dance hadn’t been seen around. Dena felt better about walking to the bus stop.

  Looking at the angry afternoon sky, she saw dark clouds hanging low. Rain would come soon. She had forgotten her umbrella. Her mood matched the dreary weather. Light rain splattered on her when she left the cafeteria and headed for the bus stop. The bus bumped and swerved down the road. Dena stared out the window. I wonder what Stuart’s doing his document
ary on this semester. He’s been so secretive. Several rain drops splattered against the smudged bus window.

  To Mary’s dismay, Stuart had scheduled his only shooting of his documentary that weekend, just two weeks before Thanksgiving. “I wished Stuart wouldn’t wait so long. It’s too close to the deadline. What if there’s a re-shoot?” Mary grumbled to Dena one afternoon at coffee.

  It’s like flying on a Pan American airplane to Europe. You might not get a ticket if you wait too long. I wonder why I thought of that analogy. It’s probably something one of the engineers said. Holding her warm skirt between her thumb and finger, she smiled; at least I’ll have something warm to wear for the filming.

  Rain splattered on her head as she ran from the bus to the house. She shuddered slightly. The gate clanged loudly as she hurried to the porch. Polly stood in the entry with a large warm towel. “I heard the gate latch. Let me take that wet coat.”

  “Thank you.” Dena smiled as she blotted her face and wrapped the towel around her dripping hair. Setting her books on the table, she slipped out of her soaking boots. Among the mail were two letters for her. She stuck them on top of her drafting text and headed for the stairs. Polly appeared again, holding a steaming cup.

  “Thought you would like some hot chocolate Miss Dena.”

  “Oh Polly, how thoughtful of you—thank you,” Dena babbled, shifting her books from one arm to the other. She took the cup and went up to her room.

  Carefully setting the hot cup on the night stand, she dropped her books on the bed. She wanted to get out of her wet clothes before she chilled more. Her flannel robe felt good as she hung the dripping clothes over the only chair in her room. After again rubbing her hair, she sat on the bed, huddled in her warm robe. Picking up the steaming cup, Dena cradled it, warming her hands. A satisfied look crossed her face as she sipped the hot liquid.

  Mmm. I love hot chocolate. It tastes so good, especially on cold rainy days Dena thought. She stroked the outside of the warm cup. It felt so warm on her hands. She smiled contentedly, taking another sip. It warmed her stomach. Mmm.

  Dena sighed, picking up Brock’s letter. She loved reading his first. They shared the same thoughts. Susan was still in high school. It’s old hat. Everything Susan does, I’ve already experienced. Brock’s letters are more interesting. Susan’s letters were filled with school, Grant, and at times thoughts about what was happening on the farm. Even though Dena loved hearing from her, she appreciated Brocks’ letters more. Maybe another reason is Brock’s older and always writes about college life.

  ***

  November, 1939

  Dear Sis,

  I’m writing this letter from my new job. And before you say it, yes, even third-year agricultural students need jobs if they want to eat. I started working at the local veterinarian clinic helping the doctors with their work. Tonight’s fairly quiet. I had a couple of dogs come in that had been in a fight. And I got to help with a cat that had a hairball. I had no idea what a hairball was or what it looked like. Well now I do. I’m pulling some double-shifts. I do enjoy it. I’m meeting some intelligent girls too …

  ***

  Girls? Dena frowned at the implication Brock put in that short sentence.

  ***

  … and besides, I want the extra time off at Thanksgiving. Sorry we won’t get to see each other at Thanksgiving, but Christmas isn’t long.

  I figure you might want to shop for my present in California, so maybe I should give you some hints. I could use a good dose of warm weather or maybe a jar of beach sand; or how about a California sweater, but not one of those Stanford things.

  Midterms: Well, I managed to pass with a fairly good grade average.

  Of course, I have several more courses than you, plus a thesis on different grain types, and you—just those two pud classes. Wow! You had better get an A in both. Don’t tell me that drafting is hard. My roommate’s an engineer. He says it’s a breeze. Now don’t get me started. You know how it is, once a brother, always a brother. I’ll expect badgering when I see you at Christmas. Actually I’m looking forward to it. See you then.

  Love, Brock

  ***

  Dena gently folded the pages and slid it back into the envelope. Brock was going to be home for Christmas. Good. Her eyes danced. I can’t wait to hear him say ‘you’re badgering’. Suddenly she realized how much she had missed his teasing. Even though he teased her, it was allowed; he was her brother. They were family. She closed her eyes tightly and thanked God for such a terrific brother.

  She picked up Susan’s letter and read that she was excited about her coming home too. If Dena couldn’t come for Thanksgiving, then she should definitely come for Christmas. Susan said Mother and Dad also were counting the days. Dena sighed. She needed to find out where she had to go to purchase a ticket and how much they cost. She would ask Uncle Walter after Thanksgiving.

  ***

  Thanksgiving. She had the whole week off from work and class. All she wanted to do was sleep or rest. She and Emily had talked of going to the beach on Saturday if it didn’t rain or if the wind wasn’t too cool. Stuart and Mary had invited them to the theater, but Emily had made other plans. Dena didn’t know anything about the movie, so she also declined. She really enjoyed the time alone in her room reading something other than textbooks. That’s just what she did on Monday.

  “Aunt Doreen,” Dena asked on Tuesday, “is there anything I can do to help?” The doorbell rang. Uncle Walter quickly answered it.

  “Well, let me see…You could check the napkins and make sure all are clean and pressed.” Aunt Doreen smiled as she laid out the good silverware for polishing. “Do you want to go to the movies? Stuart and Mary are going to another one today.”

  “No.” Dena was sure that Mary and Stuart were just being kind and were relieved she didn’t go. “How many guests are coming?”

  “Well, let me see.” Aunt Doreen straightened up, placed her palms on her back, and stretched. She was silent for a moment. “I believe six, but then Uncle Walter may have invited several more. He has such a soft heart. No one is alone on holidays if he can help it. Stuart has that same quality.”

  Dena pulled out the napkins, sat down at the kitchen table. Aunt Doreen sat next to her with the silverware. Then she reached down for a can of polish and rags off the bottom shelf.

  Uncle Walter came back into the room with mail tucked under his arm, reading a letter. “Doreen, we have a letter from Bill.”

  “Oh my. I must be getting old.” Aunt Doreen laughed with embarrassment, running her hand across her eyes. “Bending over like that really made me dizzy.”

  Dena watched her aunt arrange the polish and a rag before she asked, “You say we have a letter from Bill, dear?”

  Uncle Walter nodded, sitting across from his wife, next to Dena.

  “What does he say?” she asked looking anxious.

  “He’s now in Shanghai, China, and is getting a taste of war.” Both women looked at him in surprise. Dena shuddered. War?

  “What did you say, Walter?” Doreen whispered. She seemed to shrink into the chair. Dena started to reach for her hand, but Aunt Doreen had laid them in her lap. Dena watched her clasp an unclasp them. Susan does that. Her aunt’s eyes were fixed upon the letter that Uncle Walter held. The envelope slipped from his fingers and landed on the table.

  “Who’s in China?” Stuart asked as he entered the dining room.

  “Bill says—well let me read it to you. It’ll be easier that way.” Uncle Walter moved into the light. He didn’t want to miss a word. Stuart slipped into the chair next to his mother and laid a hand over hers and squeezed. Dena sat as quiet as settled dust as she watched Aunt Doreen. She stared at Uncle Walter and the worn-looking paper he held.

  ***

  Dear Uncle Walter and everyone,

  I received your letter some time ago after it was forwarded from Canacao. You see where I am now. I’m getting a taste of war. They sent me up here wi
th three other I Corpsman hospital medics and orderlies and along with 102 marines from Cavite, P.I. on sudden orders. That was on the 17th of August.

  ***

  Stunned, Dena gasped. She blinked several times. She needed to clear her mind. That was the same time that Brock tried to enlist.

  ***

  We came up here on the S.S. President Hoover, which happened to be in Manila at the time. It’s of the dollar line and is a naval reserve ship captained by a naval reserve officer. It was later bombed. (Not while I was aboard.)

  I’ll have plenty to tell when I finally get back to the U.S. I’ve sure seen a lot, such as countless numbers of air battles. A few weeks ago I saw three Jap planes in formation flying directly over my head here in the international settlement, just as they made their power dives one by one to drop their bombs just over the fighting zone across Soochow Creek, one of which suddenly burst into flames and blew to molecules. It’s believed that it was caused by concussion from a bomb that had just exploded, as it dived too low. There are shells bursting and shrapnel flying around everywhere.

  These Japs have certainly made a name for themselves. They’ve been pulling off the most dastardly things that were ever known to mankind, such as dropping bombs on poor defenseless non-combatants, including fishermen and refugees trying to get to safety up the river on barges. They even dropped bombs on a herd of cattle in a dairy close around here. They always give an alibi, however, such as it was a mistake or else completely denying it altogether. They’ve sure proved themselves to be the world’s champion liars.

  ***

  Uncle Walter paused. The letter was full of information that had only been rumors before. He sadly looked at his wife. Tears trickled down her face. Clearing her throat, she managed to stifle a sigh.