A Matter Of Trust

by Sherrilyn Polf

  Much later, Susan left to prepare to leave. Dena sobered, then hiccupped. Clay slid his arm around her shoulder smiling down into her tilted face. He mouthed, “I love you.” Dena glowed. Carl broke into their private moment urging them forward, “Come on you guys. Let’s go and get some cake and punch.”

  “I need to help Susan get ready,” Dena said. “But save me a piece of cake.” She rushed to the house before Clay protested.

  Dena found Susan standing in the middle of her wedding dress with her veil still cascading around her. Tears streamed.

  “Hey.” Dena put her arms around her sister. “What’s wrong?”

  “I … I … I don’t know. I … I guess I’ve waited so long … for this day”—she hiccupped—“and now it’s over. And … I don’t know what”—she blubbered —“I should do now.” Susan sobbed.

  Dena hugged her sister again. She looked up as Mary handed Susan a handkerchief. Dena’s eyes widened. She didn’t know Mary and Emily had come into the room. Emily stood with her back against the closed door.

  “Here, Susan,” Dena said in an impish manner while Mary held out the handkerchief to her. She tried to mimic their mother’s voice, “Ladies always carry a handkerchief. Why I’m not sure, but you must always have a handkerchief. Mother says so.”

  Susan stared at her sister, inhaling. Slowly she giggled as she dabbed the tears. Then she plopped down in the middle of the wedding dress and laughed, tears sliding down her cheeks.

  “Oh you,” she finally gasped in a low tone. She smoothed out the damp handkerchief and looked at it, “Mother does say that, doesn’t she—always!”

  Dena nodded. “Now let’s get you ready for that handsome brother-in-law of mine. As patient as Grant is—and he can be as patient as Job—we mustn’t keep him waiting.” Susan nodded.

  Carefully removing the veil, Dena passed the veil to Emily then offered her hands for Susan to get up.

  Dena untied the slip at the waist and dropped it to the floor. It fell on the large hoop. Mary had Susan’s new blue suit over her arm while Emily held her hat and gloves. Dena marveled at Susan’s choice—blue. Nevertheless, she should have expected it. She knew that Susan always chose blue. Blue was a constant of her personality. If Susan ever went through a day without blue on, she would probably be ill.

  She smiled at her wittiness. At last, all three girls stood simultaneously, smoothing Susan’s hair and straightening her wide-brimmed straw hat. Goodness, I’m glad there’s very little wind. Susan’s hat would land up in the next state. Mary helped Susan slip into her shoes, and Emily handed Susan another handkerchief. Susan held up the handkerchief. Her eyes twinkled as if to say, “I have my handkerchief.” They laughed.

  “Thank you all.” Susan hugged each one gently. “I couldn’t have gotten ready without you.”

  “Emily, will you and Mary go and tell Grant that Susan’s ready?” Dena asked. The girls nodded.

  “Have a happy life, my dear friend and sister.” Dena held Susan at arm’s length and wrinkled her nose at her sister and said, “I love you Susan, and remember I’m always here if you need me. No matter where I live, I’m always here for you—always.” She gave Susan another quick hug and helped her straighten her hat. “Now go. Grant’s waiting.”

  Susan hesitated at the door. She smiled sweetly at her sister. Dena picked up the dress, hoop and slip and gently laid them on the bed. She sighed. After a bit she followed at a distance and watched Grant smiling up at his bride as Stuart snapped pictures. Everyone crowded around the couple wishing them well. Grant tossed the garter to a neighbor boy who grinned openly at the ribbing. Dena watched the bouquet sail through the air, Mary grabbed it. Stuart snapped a picture, saying, “I have it on record.” Everyone laughed. Soon Susan and Grant left with Brock driving them to the railroad station. Where is it that they are going on their honeymoon? Dena’s forehead wrinkled in thought as she stood just outside the kitchen door. She unconsciously wiped away stray tears.

  “Penny for your thoughts,” a soft murmur came near her ear. She turned to find Clay and Carl standing behind her. “Here’s your cake.”

  Laughing, Dena took the chocolate cake, visibly relaxing.

  “And here’s a fork.” Carl grinned handing her a salad fork.

  “Thanks. I really need this chocolate cake.” She took a bite, savoring the rich texture. “Mmm—chocolate is so good. I’m glad this is over. I’m glad that Grant and Susan are gone. I was trying to think of where they are going for their honeymoon.”

  “There’s Floyd and Emily. Let’s go over." Carl urged. She nodded.

  ***

  Clay managed to spend most of his time with Dena before he left for Virginia. Dena helped her Mother sort through the strange dishes. Clay awkwardly helped. He made a triumphant sound each time he found a home for a lost lid. Dena knew he liked being near her. If matching dishes and pans with their lids meant he could be with her, and then match lids he would. Just as they were finishing, Dena discreetly handed him a small piece of paper where she had scribbled her address and how long she planned to stay in Colorado. Clay looked fondly at her while sliding it into his pocket.

  Carl gathered up some cold drinks, and they went outside to sit under the large cottonwood again. Dena sat near the end of the table with Clay scooting in beside her. Carl sat at the end and leaned back in an old wooden chair. It’s funny, how we’re like a magnate.

  Mary sat down next to Emily, followed by Stuart, who brought drinks for the girls and himself. Then, Brock and Floyd came over. Floyd carried a sandwich. He smiled at Dena as he sat down by Emily.

  “Ham, I love ham sandwiches,” he apologized, licking mustard off of his fingers.

  “If there’s food around, Floyd will find it,” Clay said. Dena eyed the sandwich. It did look good. What am I thinking? I’m stuffed. Conversation and laughter easily moved around the table. Dena sighed. Who would have imagined, in a hundred years that this many young people would be on my parent’s ranch, sitting under this tree. The tree I grew up under, laughing and playing with my brother and sister? Not only that, but they are all my friends. Stuart took a picture then turned and snapped a candid shot of her and Clay.

  Clay slipped his hand over hers and squeezed. Happily she glanced at him. He looked pleased. Dena knew he would be leaving that night. And it would be a long two months before she saw him again. She shuddered. Two months. Dena leaned ever so slightly toward him and snuggled into his shoulder. This surprised her. It was what Mary did all the time.

  “Churchill sure is deploying the U-boats against Germany and their allies,” Floyd offered. Suddenly, the talk turned to the war in Europe. Dena frowned. Not on my last afternoon with all of them and Clay. Clay held her hand tightly.

  “Yeah, he may deploy them,” Carl interjected. “But that statement is frightening.”

  “What did he say?” Brock leaned forward. “I guess I missed it.”

  “Well I read it in the newspaper sometime this past week,”

  Carl continued. “The newspaper quoted him, ‘The only thing that ever really frightens me during this conflict is the U-boat peril.’”

  “Peril? Why did he use that word?” Mary asked. Floyd looked at her blankly.

  “Doesn’t it mean a source of danger?” Brock interrupted softly. Dena looked at her brother. It surprised her that he knew the definition. But then he had grown just as she had. In high school she was sure he wouldn’t have known the definition. She felt uneasy hearing him talk about war. She knew how he felt about the war; war wasn’t glamorous or romantic. It was deadly.

  “Yes, but it also means hazard, risk, jeopardy, source of danger,” Mary continued. “I consider war to be more—much more—than a source of danger.”

  “Well said Mary.” Stuart put his arm around her shoulder and squeezed. Dena had always admired his devotion. And sometimes, she guessed, she might be just a little envious. Bite your tongue, girl. Dena cautiously looked around for her dad.
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  “You know they are calling the conflict between Germany and Britain the battle of the Atlantic,” Carl said, trying to move the conversation to safer ground.

  “I don’t understand why the United States is still neutral,” Floyd pointed out, shaking his head. The sandwich had disappeared.

  “Are you sure we are neutral?” Clay interjected. Looking at Floyd and Carl, Dena’s head whipped around. What did he mean?

  “Whatever. All I know is the U-boat menace is growing. But it’s accomplishing what Britain had hoped. It's keeping the English Channel open for the merchant ships to get in with troops, food, raw materials, and much needed equipment,” Stuart stated calmly. “Without this trade from us, Great Britain might have been starved out by now.”

  No food? She had never considered such a radical situation. Rationing would be bad enough.

  “You kids ready to go to the station? Our train leaves in a couple of hours.” Dena turned and looked at her uncle. She examined his face. It gave away nothing. When exactly did he come up to us? And how much did he hear?

  The group slowly moved to the house to gather up their belongings and get the gear loaded. Each young guest expressed a thank you to her and her parents. Then each found a place in one of the vehicles. Dena noticed Mother had started dabbing at her eyes. Dad wore a stern frown. She knew he wasn’t mad. It was his way of controlling his feelings. Dena smiled unconvincingly.

  “What are you smiling about?” Clay asked. Surprised, Dena looked up at him. Clay had been watching her again. Dena liked it, this closeness she felt when Clay was near. She had never had a relationship where both parties became one. In fact, she couldn’t remember ever having a relationship this intense.

  “I was thinking of you—us. Come,” she spoke in a low voice filled with urgency. Clay readily followed her into the house, into the hallway. She picked up one of her initialed handkerchiefs along with a small book of her favorite poems. It smelled faintly of her perfume. “Clay, I want you to have this. I know it’s corny, but it’ll be two months before…” she stopped in mid-sentence as Clay muffled her words with a kiss. She returned his kiss willingly. When he finally released her, Dena felt faint.

  “Thanks, I’ll keep this with me always.” Clay took her handkerchief and put it to his nose before he tucked it into his pocket. “Dena, about our talk … I’ll give it a lot of thought while I’m in Virginia … about God and everything.” She hugged him. Tears threatened.

  “Hey, Clay, where have you disappeared to?” Floyd hollered through the kitchen door, where he stood waiting.

  “I forgot something in the house,” apologized Clay as he strolled to the car holding the book. Dena followed, sliding in next to her brother. Glancing sideways, Brock smiled. Dena couldn’t remember who was in the backseat. For all she knew, it might have been her mother and dad. Oh! What an awkward idea!

  The trip to the railroad station was relatively quiet. Three cars and dad’s old truck were being used to haul Stuart’s equipment and the baggage. Plus, it took three other vehicles to carry all the people. Nine people counting Polly would be leaving. She sighed audibly. Clay squeezed her hand firmly. Slyly she looked up at him. He winked. The trip to the station was too short and ended all too quickly, Dena stood on the platform next to Clay where Carl tactfully stood between them and the rest of the group, giving them time. Mother and Dad were talking with Uncle Walter and Aunt Doreen. She turned to Clay. He gazed at her.

  “Penny for your thoughts,” she said more pertly than she felt. Clay had said that to her at different times over the last few days. He gently touched her cheek and smiled. Dena closed her eyes, sealing it forever in her memory.

  “See you in August,” Clay whispered. His hand lingered for a moment longer on her cheek. Then his finger traveled down to her lips, where it lingered for a long moment. She nodded. Tears brimmed. Then Clay was gone. She hiccupped. It almost sounded like a sob. Dena felt an arm around her shoulders. She looked up. Brock stood next to her, pretending not to see the tears. Dena watched.

  “Come on, Sis,” Brock coaxed, leading her to the car. “Let’s go home.”

  “Home.” Dena slowly nodded her head. After all, tomorrow is a new day. And in August, Clay will be home. Home, in California …

  The End

  Books by Sherrilyn Polf

  A Matter of Trust, Engineers of Flight Series, Volume 1

  If in Doubt… Believe, Engineers of Flight Series, Volume 2

  A Faithful Soul, Engineers of Flight Series, Volume 3

  WWII: Home Front, Engineers of Flight Series, Volume 4

  Christmas 1943, Engineers of Flight Series, Volume 5

  Forever Thankful, Engineers of Flight Series, Volume 6

  Uncertain Hearts, Engineers of Flight Series, A new Generation, Volume 1

  Children’s Books

  Jill’s Lost Gloves, An ABC Story

  Number 1, Friends and “ME”

  The compiled writings of her Grandmother Law

  About the Author

  Sherrilyn Polf is no stranger to war. Born during World War II and spending time in Germany with her husband, Dewey, and waited for him during the Vietnam War. She uses her knowledge from this to bring history and the Gulf War alive in her books. Polf, the oldest of five children, spent her childhood approximately 90 miles southwest of Wichita, Kansas on a farm. This is where she learned responsibilities and the love for nature that only can come from a close family and not so near neighbors. Polf uses personal experiences to provide the prose and poetry in much of her work. She and her husband, Dewey, reside in Tyrone, Oklahoma. They have two grown children and four grandchildren.

  Connect with her online:

  Email: polf25@gmail.com

  Facebook: Sherrilyn Polf

  Twitter: Sherrilyn Polf.sherrysdomain

  Web Page: www.Sherrilynpolf.Weebly.com

  Thank you for reading