A Matter Of Trust

by Sherrilyn Polf

  “Happy?” Clay nuzzled her neck before pulling out a chair near the end of the table. He sat at the end of the table so he could talk above the noise of the music.

  “Yes.” Sighing, she watched the crowd sway to the music.

  “Hello, you two,” Mary said as she and Stuart paused to leave their coats. Then they also moved to the dance floor. A soft sigh escaped as Dena watched. Mary had told her that Stuart enjoyed dancing and she loved dancing with him. Dena wondered if she and Clay were going to dance, yet Clay hung back.

  “Dena, I think …” Clay started and then stopped. He seemed to need to think. She turned her attention to what he was saying. “I hope you know how I feel about you.” Clay gazed into her eyes.

  Dena wanted to giggle, but she didn’t want to embarrass Clay. She firmed up her lips together to keep a straight face.

  “I have thought about you constantly this last month.” Clay paused, struggling to find the right words. She wanted to encourage him, yet she said nothing.

  “I know you’ve probably wondered about my intentions; well, so have I. Dena. … uh … would you do me the honor of wearing my engineering sigma?” He pulled out a delicate chain and a locket. Dena stared. She wasn’t sure what to say. Gingerly rubbing the locket, he spoke, “Be my girl.”

  Slowly she nodded. Clay’s face came close to hers when he encircled her neck and clasped the chain. Then his lips brushed her cheek gently. She shuddered, smiling sweetly into his face. She really wanted to be kissed. But they were in public. Darn the public. Darn etiquette and all of that social stuff. Dena couldn’t believe she thought that—Mother would be shocked. She would tell me that’s how a person lands up like the Johnson girl.

  “Will you dance with me, Dena?” Clay asked softly, holding out his hand. Dena extended her gloved hand. The music stopped as they reached the dance floor but just as quickly another song started. Dena didn’t know the tune. Clay moved her gracefully around the floor until the song ended. While walking back to their table, he whispered, “Penny for your thoughts.”

  “Mmm.” Dena said, coyly glancing sideways. She wanted to hold onto her memories for a while. Saying no more, she was glad Clay didn’t pursue.

  Returning to their table, Dena noticed several others. Emily took a seat across from Floyd, listening to his every word.

  Stuart and Mary sat next to Martin and his date. Dena spoke to him before she and Clay sat down. She looked at the young woman which Martin introduced as Jenny. Dena smiled genially. Looking past Jenny, she saw Carl crossing the room with a girl. He hadn’t left for Virginia—some technicality, Clay had said. Surprised, she glanced at Clay. He nodded. Carl was usually part of the group. Dena checked out the girl. She was a tall, slender brunette with a wide mouth. She was impeccably dressed. Carl introduced his date, Margaret, to everyone. She worked with him at the lab.

  Was this the technicality? Dena wondered settling back in her chair, eyeing Margaret for a moment before she causally glanced around the table. To her surprise, their intimate group had changed since last fall. Jack, Jules, Abe, Monique and Julie were gone. Now she had new people to learn about.

  “What do you mean, the Phony War? I don’t believe I’ve heard that term used,” asked Floyd, leaning forward, waiting for an answer. Scowling, she had hoped they could enjoy one dance and evening without war talk.

  “As I understand,” Stuart spoke, “it’s because Germany has halted bombing to regroup through the winter, but Britain and France are vigilant in watching their enemy.”

  She listened while continuing to watch the dance. A new song was beginning. But Dena couldn’t remember the name.

  “Well put, Stuart,” Carl said. “The newspapers want action for their stories. With no action available, they invent some; in this case the Phony War saga.”

  Dena wondered where Carl found his information. She thought over what he was saying. It made sense and was interesting to know that the immediate issue of war wasn’t the topic instead the newspapers were the subject tonight. Of course, it still was war related.

  “Shall we dance?” Clay asked, pulling her up and guiding her onto the floor. He slid his arm around her waist and pulled her to him. Dena laid her head on his shoulder. The song was “Blueberry Hill.” Cuddling ever so slightly, she murmured softly. She could really get used to Clay’s arms around her. She snuggled.

  After several dances, they sat down to catch their breath and have some refreshments.

  “The only conflict going on now is between the Soviets and Finland,” Floyd was saying as they approached the table. Catching the end portion of the conversation, she glanced at Clay’s face. He listened closely as he inattentively held the chair for her. “I read that the Soviets began occupying Baltic States leading to a confrontation with Finland.”

  “Yeah,” Martin interjected, “it ended with land concessions to the Soviets on the twelfth. I'm not sure what that solved.”

  “Carl, how is the Clark Y coming along? Isn’t that why you haven’t gone back to Virginia?” asked Martin.

  “You know, as much as I want to stay and listen,” Stuart announced, standing up, “My priority this evening is to dance with my lovely date.”

  “Spoken like a true film producer,” Carl uttered, raising his left eye brow in a knowing manner. Someone laughed. It was almost a Groucho Marx antic. He just lacked the cigar. Chairs scraped as the music started. Most everyone moved to the floor. But Clay scooted closer and took her hand in his. Dena looked at him. What was the Clark Y? Clay had said nothing about it. She would ask later.

  “Shall we?” Clay silently mouthed, standing up and extending his hand. Everything was exactly right at that time, especially the music, though she wasn’t sure what the name of the tune was. Clay murmured into her ear, “Perfect song, don’t you think? When you wish upon a star—this is our song; it’s absolutely perfect.”

  Leaning back she looked into his face and smiled. She didn’t speak. Her happiness had overtaken all rational thought.

  But, I’ll remember this song forever.

  “You know, I’m so glad my mother insisted that I take dancing lessons when I was ten.” He chuckled, twirling her, and then pulling her into his arms.

  “Mmm, me too,” she murmured as they floated around the floor. Clay’s lips brushed her cheek. That was the closest she would get to a kiss at the moment.

  “I take it you like dancing?” Clay’s face was flushed when he looked at her.

  “Mmm huh.”

  “Me too, especially dancing with you.” Clay slipped his finger under her chin, lifting her face and smiling directly into her eyes. Then he tightened his arm around her waist. She gasped softly as they swayed with the music. Nestling her head on his shoulder, she flushed from his compliment. “We’ll have to go dancing more often. There are many nice places down town that have great bands.”

  “I’d like that.”

  The evening went by too quickly. Dena guessed she knew how Cinderella must have felt. She wasn’t ready to leave the ball, but alas, she had to. Clay took her home around two. He lingered at the front door for a few minutes holding her in his arms, “See you tomorrow?”

  ***

  April 19, 1940

  As she and Emily hurried against the wind, Dena gripped her books tightly against her chest to help break the bite. She was thankful she had worn her new woolen slacks morning. Even though the sun was shining brightly when they had left the house this morning, the wind warned everyone that it was still winter for at least a few more days. Dark clouds had built up on the horizon.

  She shuddered.

  “Brrr! I don’t ever remember an April this cold,” Emily exclaimed. Dena agreed. She paused just inside the cafeteria door, looking around the large room. Their group had congregated on the left side near one of the large fireplaces. Emily moved towards the table.

  Oh. Clay isn’t here. Dena touched her locket. She tried not to look downcast, but it showed on her face. Since
the dance, she and Clay had a steady date on Monday and sometimes on Friday. She looked forward to seeing him. Really she needed to see him.

  “Hey, beautiful,” a soft voice came from behind them. Dena turned. Clay grinned.

  “Oh, Clay, I was …” she stammered.

  “I know. I’ve been working, trying to get all of my credits in order.” He took her books and started toward the table. “But I think about you especially late at night, and I wish I could call, but it wouldn’t be right. I don’t think Professor or Mrs. Miles would appreciate me.”

  Was he kidding? Dena turned to search his face. No, he meant it. She almost tripped, but Clay caught her by the elbow, steadying her.

  “Are you okay?” he asked. She nodded, rather sheepish. “Anyway, can I come by and walk you home this afternoon?”

  This time she did stop. Looking him squarely in the face, she knew he was asking to walk her home in the middle of his classes. He knew what she was thinking, so he assured her in a low voice, “I can skip one lab. I have it done, and Carl can give me any material I need. I want to be with you, to talk to you.” Still she stood rooted.

  “Sure,” she finally answered. What will Aunt Doreen say? At home, Mother always said that proper girls don’t encourage young men by being alone with them. She would ask Aunt Doreen. By the time they reached the table, Emily had ordered for them.

  “I ordered,” she said. “I didn’t want us to be late.”

  “Thank you,” Dena answered. She bit into a warm, melt-in-the-mouth grilled cheese sandwich. She glanced at Clay, raising her eyebrows. She loved grilled cheese sandwiches. They were comfort food. Clay agreed digging into his sandwich.

  “Why are you having a test this afternoon instead of tomorrow morning?” Clay asked between bites.

  “We have another one tomorrow. I think this one’s a makeup test.” Clay nodded.

  “You could try and understand that the British are fighting for their culture, their lifestyle, the only way of life they know or understand.” Dena glanced at the next table, where someone was speaking in a raised, agitated voice. Oh my goodness. Glancing at Clay, she saw he was slowly chewing, listening.

  “Clay, I must go. See you after the test,” she whispered.

  “Sure.” He glanced up as Dena and Emily gathered their books. The heated discussion was still going on when the two girls left.

  “I think I would’ve rather listened to that conversation on the war than to brave this wind. Brrr,” Emily said, tucking her chin into her coat.

  “I know.” Dena’s teeth chattered. “Emily, save me a seat. I need to go and see Aunt Doreen.” Emily hurried into class as Dena raced across the street. Aunt Doreen looked up from eating her lunch. Dena asked if it was okay if Clay came to the house this afternoon.

  “I’ll be home. It’s my short day. You may invite Clay home anytime.”

  Thank you.” Dena felt better as she left.

  Aunt Doreen watched Dena disappear down the stairs. I’m glad to see Dena happy. Maybe Clay’s the reason. I’ll let Mr. Graves know I’m going home at two.

  ***

  Clay waited just inside the door as Dena and Emily came down from their class room. Dena smiled when he reached for her books. Emily hurried out, saying something about needing to go to the library.

  “Are you ready?” he asked, tucking her books under one arm with his. She nodded, raising an eyebrow at the idea of a boy carrying her books. She had never had a boy do that before. Not even in high school. The bus had arrived, brakes squealing to a stop as they reached the corner. Several people waited to board.

  Dena and Clay moved forward until they could get on. Both presented their bus passes to the driver who absently nodded for them to take a seat.

  The bus ride sped by. Dena pulled her leather coat tighter across her chest as they stepped off the bus and hurried to the house. She began to worry about proper dating etiquette. Should they go to the sunroom? She knew she would feel more at ease there than the parlor. Just as they reached the door, it opened.

  “Come in out of the cold you two,” Aunt Doreen said. Dena noticed Aunt Doreen was holding the mail. “Hello, Clay. It’s nice to see you again.”

  “Thank you, Mrs. Miles.” He looked delighted that Aunt Doreen had received him into her home.

  “Dena, you have a couple of letters.” Aunt Doreen’s voice was light and pleasant, as she handed the envelopes to her. “Why don’t you and Clay go to the sunroom? Polly has refreshments ready.”

  Relieved that the dilemma was solved, she led the way to the back of the house. Clay followed her to the couch in the corner, where she laid the letters next to her.

  “This is turning into a habit, isn’t it?” Clay said, looking around before settling his eyes on her. What on earth is he talking about? We’ve never been completely alone in the room before.

  “The corner couch is becoming our couch.” He joked. Dena laughed. What a way of saying it—our couch.

  “I’ll never look at the couch the same way again.” She said in a kidding tone as she relaxed next to the window. Clay sat in the overstuffed chair. He smiled, looking totally at ease.

  “How was your class today? The test—was it hard?” he asked, simply wanting to hear her voice.

  “It was great. The class was great. You know that drawing of the airplane we saw not too long ago from”—she frowned just for a second before the answer came to her—“Ed, I believe his name was. Well, we are studying a similar drawing right now. It was a prototype. It’ll be on the test—the drawing—we’ll be identifying the different areas. We’ll have that test on Monday.”

  “Really.” Clay leaned forward, and asked, “What did you think about it?”

  Now she was talking his language. They discussed fuselages, wing spans, and even flying. Clay’s love for flying showed on his face as he talked.

  “Do you do any flying now, Clay?” she asked. “Or are you taking flying lessons?”

  “I have a civilian pilot license. Would you like to go up sometime?” Clay’s eyes shone brightly.

  “Yes, I think I would,” she admitted.

  “Oh, Dena, you are a girl after my heart.” He reached forward and clasped her hands. She wanted to laugh but was afraid Clay wouldn’t understand.

  “Refreshments?” asked Polly as she entered. Clay dropped Dena’s hands and rose, somewhat uneasy. Dena smiled. He was such a well-mannered person. More than that, he had class—not rude as some of the men at college. Dena knew his mother would be pleased. She couldn’t imagine a mother not delighted with the accomplishments of her child. She rose and walked over to the small table where Polly set the tray and reached for the pitcher. After filling two glasses, she moved back to the corner and handed Clay his drink.

  “I’m going to Virginia for the summer. Carl, Floyd and I have jobs there.”

  “I thought Carl was leaving for Virginia after the ball,” she questioned, sipping on her drink. Clay set his glass aside.

  “He was, but now he’ll go with us. Whatever the crisis was, he and Professor have it worked out. Sometimes Hughes’ projects are so secretive. Not all of the test models that are being worked on are tested at Hughes. I think this one was one of those situations.” Clay paused then continued, “May I write to you while I’m gone?”

  “I’d like that.” She said. Clay didn’t know what was going on with Hughes either. Her eyes clouded. Clay would be in Virginia for two months. Stop Dena. Just think about now—the present. Sitting in silence sipping her drink, she realized how comfortable she was—how at ease; sensing Clay’s presence and the warmth it radiated, Dena knew there was no need for talk. If this is what Mother and Dad enjoy in their marriage, I really could come to like it.

  “You know I’m going to Colorado in May for my sister’s wedding?”

  “Yes, I heard that from Stuart. He’s shooting the wedding,” Clay replied. She smiled at the thought of the wedding. Suddenly, Dena sat up straight.


  “Clay, I have an idea! I know it may sound silly, but hear me out. Okay?” Dena’s eyes sparkled. “Uncle Walter’s coming to the wedding. And you, Carl, and Floyd are going to Virginia. Well, do you think maybe you could stop off for the wedding and then return with Uncle Walter to Virginia?” She sat patiently for a few moments allowing the idea to register with Clay.

  “Whoa, Dena, let me think about it. Naturally I’d need to talk to Carl and Floyd.” Clay’s eyebrows knitted. Dena suddenly felt awkward. Maybe I shouldn’t have asked Clay. What if he backs away? Dena chewed her lower lip. What if Aunt Doreen says no, or Mother and Dad?”

  “You know it’s just a suggestion, Clay, and a chance to meet my family. Afraid her smile was too much, she sobered, watching him for some sign of acceptance.

  “Let me think about it and talk to Carl and Floyd,” Clay repeated. He agreed it would be less pressure to meet her family in an informal situation. Also if he was with Carl and Floyd, it would seem more like friendship than a twosome. Even though she wanted to shout her feelings, she wasn’t sure she was ready to tell her family about Clay. Dena didn’t realize that Clay fostered the same doubts, but he delighted in her being near him.

  “Changing the subject, how about going flying with me? Say, sometime between the first and fifth of May? It should be nice weather for your first flight.” Clay said.

  “That sounds wonderful. I’ll look forward to it,” she answered. For now she just wanted to be with him. But Clay stood to leave. He took her hands and pulled her into his arms. Before Dena could think, Clay leaned forward only inches from her lips.

  “Dena, may I kiss you?” he asked softly. Dena closed her eyes and tilted her chin in answer. I didn’t know anything could feel so good. Even though Clay had kissed her before, it wasn’t as heartfelt as this one. She felt like she was floating. Slowly Dena returned his kiss. Too quickly, he pulled away. Smiling sheepishly, he took her hands.

  “I guess I’d better go.” His eyes held a smoldering look. Dena shuddered slightly—as if a cold breeze had touched her.

  She wasn’t sure she wanted to understand the meaning behind his look. She walked beside him to the front of the house.