by Lynn Ames
Jessie shoved back her chair. “You’re mistaken, and I don’t need to be psychoanalyzed by you or anybody else. I’ve got to get to the flight line.” Jessie could feel Isabel’s eyes on her back as she walked away. What right did this upstart have to talk to her that way? She didn’t know anything about her.
Remind me to play poker with you. Jessie’s heart lurched painfully. It was one of the very first things Claudia said to her when they met. Well, Isabel was not Claudia, not by a long shot. Jessie stalked out of the mess and over to the ready room. She needed to get into the air. Ironically, despite the fact that she was being shot at, it was the one place where she felt at peace.
September 25, 1943
My Dearest Darling Jess,
Well, I got hired by North American to work in their Inglewood factory. Mostly, I spend my days tightening bolts and inspecting other people’s work to make sure nothing’s going to fall apart in the air. It’s tedious stuff and I find my mind wandering all the time to you. I wonder what you’re doing and if you’re staying safe.
I know these planes won’t be flown by you, since they’re new and in great shape, and all we ever got to fly were the worn-out wrecks that came back from overseas. Still, every time I tighten a bolt or check a seam, I do so with loving hands on the off chance one of them ends up with you in the cockpit.
I’m living in a room in a rundown boarding house, but it’s right down the street from the factory, so I’m saving money on transportation. So, the other day I was carrying groceries up the stairs and juggling my keys at the same time. I got to the top of the landing and the bag broke. You can imagine the mess that made. There I was, on my hands and knees, and I saw a pair of shoes in front of me. It was a lovely old gentleman who offered to help me. It put a smile on my face for the first time in forever and made me feel just a little less alone.
Jess, I worry about you constantly. Are you eating right? Are you getting any sleep? Are you remembering to drink lots of water out there in the desert? Have you made any friends? Are you being careful in the sky?
I wish more than anything I could change things—that we could go back to the way we were. I miss you so much it hurts deep inside, and I love you more than anything in the whole wide universe. But I know all the wishing in the world won’t win me your forgiveness or change the reality of my pregnancy. I won’t write about that here, because I know you don’t want to hear about it.
Sigh. Here I go crying again. I wonder if I’ll ever stop.
Your girl, now and always,
Claudia
Jessie folded the letter carefully and replaced it in the envelope. She rubbed her eyes and glanced at her watch. It was two o’clock. Time to take her next round of pills. God, she hated being old and infirm. She thought about Claudia, lying in a bed somewhere, waiting to die. Jessie was grateful that at least Claudia had family by her side, a loving daughter who had given her a grandchild and a beautiful great granddaughter. Jessie had no one.
Just as she reached the bathroom to get herself a glass of water and her medicine, there was a knock at the door.
“Who is it?” Jessie asked, looking through the peephole.
“Room service, ma’am.”
“I didn’t order any room service.”
“No, ma’am. It was ordered for you by…” Jessie could see the young man consult a piece of paper on the tray. “…Natalie and Chelsea.”
“Of all the…” Jessie opened the door to permit the bellboy entry.
“Where would you like this, ma’am?” He looked around. “Perhaps on the table over there?”
“That’s fine.” Jessie followed him over toward the window. “What is it, anyway?”
“Scrambled eggs, fruit, and bacon, ma’am. There’s a note.” The bellboy reached into his pocket and pulled out an envelope addressed to Jessie.
“Very well. Thank you,” she said, fishing in her pocket for her wallet to give him a tip.
“Thank you, ma’am. Enjoy the rest of your stay. I’ll just see myself out.”
When he was gone, Jessie sat down at the table and removed the cover that was keeping the food warm. She placed the napkin in her lap and opened the envelope.
“We know you said you didn’t have much of an appetite, but you really should eat something. I spoke to Mama on the phone and told her we saw you. When I said you turned down our invitation to lunch, she insisted I order this for you—said it was your favorite. When I reminded her that it was mid-afternoon, she said that wouldn’t matter to you.
I’ve learned over a lifetime never to argue with my mother. So this is for you.
Enjoy, Natalie & Chelsea.”
Jessie blinked several times and reread the note. Claudia remembered. How was that possible? It had been sixty-seven years since the last time they’d eaten together, and Claudia remembered Jessie’s fondness for breakfast foods. She’d always made fun of Jessie because she would eat scrambled eggs and bacon for dinner. She would insist that Jessie have some fruit with her meal to balance things out.
Jessie picked up the fork, but her hand was shaking so badly she had to put it back down. It was unfathomable that Claudia still could be thinking about her all these years later, that she wouldn’t have forgotten, that even on her deathbed, she would worry about Jessie’s well-being.
“Okay, Claude, I’ll eat a little, but only because you asked me to.” Jessie picked up the fork again and tasted the eggs.
It was only after she finished eating that Jessie realized she’d never taken her medicine. She made her way to the bathroom and swallowed the pills with water. Then she returned to the bed and retrieved another letter.
Christmas, 1943
My Dearest Darling Jessie,
Merry Christmas, darling. I see the wreaths on the doors, the families picking out Christmas trees together, the decorations in store windows, and hear the caroling, and all I can think about is how much I wish I was spending the holiday with you. I window shop in the stores and daydream about what I would have bought you. I won’t tell you here, because if I ever get the chance to spend the holiday with you, I don’t want to spoil the surprise.
It is a lonely, desolate time for me. I miss my parents, I miss the joy of the season, and most of all, sugar, I miss you. What are you doing for the holidays? Have you found someone you’re sweet on? The thought makes me a little crazy, I admit, but I do so wish happiness for you. It’s not fair to want you to be miserable just because I am.
I know I said I wouldn’t talk about the pregnancy to you. Alas dear Jess, I have no one else. Please forgive me, but I need to pour my heart out somewhere, and since you’re my one and only, you’re elected. I’m starting to show. My belly gets bigger every day, and it’s harder and harder to hide the fact that I’m with child. I’m desperately afraid that if my bosses find out, I’ll lose my job. I’ve been trying to save money for when the baby comes, and I’ve managed to hold onto most of the money my mother gave me the last time I saw her (when my father disowned me). But I know I will need that money to live on once the baby is born until I can work again, and in the meantime, I keep having to let my clothes out. Pretty soon, I’m going to have to buy new, looser fitting clothes.
Not only that, but I have to figure out where I’m going to have the baby. I can’t stay here—the landlord will kick me out for sure. Oh, Jess. I’m so frightened. I don’t know what I’m going to do or how I’m going to manage all by myself.
I wish more than anything I could have your strong shoulder to lean on, your arms around me as I sleep, and your voice in my ear telling me everything is going to be all right, even if it’s a lie.
Anyway, enough of the depressing stuff. I love you with all my heart and soul and hope you are safe and well.
Your girl,
Claudia
Jessie returned the letter to its envelope and wrapped up the stack for 1943 with the ribbon. Poor, poor Claudia. Pregnant and all alone, with no one to rely on and no place to go. It must have been awful
.
Jessie hadn’t had much of a Christmas, herself, as she recalled. The girls in the barracks got a little tree and decorated it, and there was a turkey dinner in the middle of the day, but Jessie hadn’t felt very festive, so she mostly stayed in her room. It seems that they were both miserable, after all.
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
She hadn’t meant to nod off, but when Jessie glanced at the clock she realized she’d been asleep for nearly two hours. She still held the packet of letters marked 1943 in her hands. It was almost four o’clock in the afternoon.
She pulled the box toward her. “Damn, Claude, there must be hundreds of letters in here.” Everything was neatly, methodically filed by date, month, and year. “I can’t read them all in a day, love, though believe me, I want to.” She ran her fingers lovingly over the envelopes. “For now, I hope you’ll forgive me if I settle for the Readers’ Digest version.”
By Jessie’s calculation, the baby would have been born in April, 1944.
April 13, 1944
My Dearest Darling Jessie,
The baby is kicking harder than ever. I can’t find a comfortable position to sleep in, so I lie awake at night and think of baby names. So far, I’ve narrowed it down to Peter, Jasper, Richard, or Nathan if it’s a boy. If it’s a girl, I’ve thought about naming her Jessie, but I doubt you’d approve, and I know that if I did name her that, I’d only miss you more every time I called her name. Believe me, I don’t need any more reminders of how much I wish you were here with me. Sigh. If the baby’s a girl, the possibilities are Sara, Michelle, Sandra, or Natalie.
Mrs. Rourke, the nice Irish lady who took me in when I got kicked out of my last place for being single and pregnant, says it’s probably a boy based on how hard it kicks. I’m not convinced…
“I’ve got eight wee ones, dear. I’m pretty sure I should know by now what it’ll be, and I’m telling you, it’s a boy.”
“Maybe, but I sure hope it’s a girl.”
“And why would that be?”
“I don’t have any experience with boys. I wouldn’t know the first thing about raising one.”
“Hah! No experience with boys, she says, standing there nine months pregnant. I should think you’ve had some experience, now haven’t you?”
Claudia’s face reddened.
“Aw, it’s all right, child. I didn’t mean nothing by it. Just making a bit of a joke is all.”
Claudia turned away so that Mrs. Rourke wouldn’t see the tears in her eyes. “I’ll just go finish sewing that dress for you. Should be done by tomorrow.”
“That’s a good girl. Don’t tax yourself too much, now.”
“I won’t.”
Claudia retreated to her room, sat on the edge of the bed, and cried. She cried for things she couldn’t change, she cried over being reduced to sewing, mopping, washing, and doing odd jobs in exchange for food and lodging, and most of all, she cried for the life she could have had—the life she wanted—with Jessie.
“Sugar, I’d give anything in the world to be back in Vegas with you, flying planes and making sweet love. God, Jess. I didn’t think it was possible to miss one person so much. I’m so lost without you.”
She pulled a box out of the closet, rummaged inside, and took out a needle and thread. She found the pattern and the pieces of material she had cut and sat down to hand sew the dress. “What I wouldn’t give to be able to afford one of those fancy Singer sewing machines.” As she found herself doing often these days, Claudia stared out the window and daydreamed.
“Ohmigod.” She doubled over and held her belly. “That was the worst one yet.” Then she looked down and saw the puddle underneath her. “Mrs. Rourke! Mrs. Rourke, please, help me!” Claudia started to stand and sat back down. Her heart hammered in her chest. “Mrs. Rourke! Something’s wrong. Please, help me!”
When she didn’t hear anything, Claudia pushed herself up and looked down from her second story window. Mrs. Rourke was in the garden, planting flowers. Claudia screamed as another pain ripped through her. She knelt with her hands on the windowsill until she could catch her breath. After awhile, she was able to open the window and lean out. “Mrs. Rourke! Please, come quick. Something’s wrong.”
Mrs. Rourke looked up and shaded her eyes. “What’s that, dear?”
“Help! I’m…” Claudia bent double again with a strangled cry.
“Oh, goodness. On my way, dear. Stay right there.”
Claudia’s eyes were wild and her breathing was irregular. Beads of sweat broke out on her forehead.
“There, there, dear,” Mrs. Rourke said, bursting into the room. “What’s— Oh. Oh, goodness. Okay. Okay. Don’t panic, dear.”
“I’m so scared. Wha…What’s going on?”
“Your water broke.”
“What does that m-mean?” Another pain sliced through her, and Claudia grabbed the windowsill.
“It means your baby is coming.”
“N-now?”
“From the looks of it, right now. All right. Let’s get you lying down.” Mrs. Rourke guided Claudia into a prone position on the bed. She leaned out the window. “Jerry! Jerry, run across the street and get Doc for me. Hurry now!”
“It w-wasn’t supposed to happen like this.”
“Babies have their own schedule, that’s for sure. This one’s obviously in a real hurry to get here.”
“W-what am I going to do?”
Mrs. Rourke smothered a chuckle. “Do, dear? Why, you’re going to have this baby, that’s what.”
“Right h-here?”
“Unless I miss my guess, there’s no time to move you anywhere else.”
“I got him, Ma. I got him.” Jerry stood in the doorway, panting and staring.
“Jerry Rourke! Don’t stand there. This isn’t a place for you. Make yourself useful and get some clean towels. And put some water on to boil.”
“Yes, Ma.” He continued to stand there, gawking at Claudia, who was writhing in pain on the bed.
Claudia turned her head, glared at him, and yelled, “Get your perverted self out of my room. Now.”
Mrs. Rourke chuckled again as Jerry sprinted out of the room. The sound of his footsteps on the stairs echoed through the house. “Guess you told him.”
“S-sorry Mrs. Rourke.”
“Don’t be, child. He deserved that. Darn teenaged boys.”
“Emily?”
“Up here, Doc. Second door on the right, second floor.” Mrs. Rourke took Claudia’s hand and squeezed. “See, dear? Nothing to worry about. The cavalry’s on the way.”
An elderly gentleman walked into the room and strode across the floor. He wore a stethoscope around his neck and carried a leather satchel. “What have we here?”
Claudia looked up into kindly, gentle eyes. “It hurts so much.”
“Okay. Let’s have a peek.” He turned to Mrs. Rourke. “How long has she been like this?”
“Her water broke about fifteen minutes ago. But…”
Claudia took in the expression on Mrs. Rourke’s face. It was a cross between perplexity and concern. She grabbed the doctor’s arm. “Am I going to be okay?” Panic was making it difficult to breathe.
“Like I said, let me examine you, then we’ll know more.” He held the stethoscope to her chest in several places, then placed it on her belly. “Mmm-hmm. Ah-hah.” He felt her belly. “I’m going to need you to bend your knees and raise your legs.”
Claudia screamed as yet another pain tore through her. She couldn’t stand it anymore. “Please. Help me.”
“That’s exactly what we’re going to do, young lady. Bend your knees and raise your legs.” He returned the stethoscope to its perch and opened his bag. “Emily, we’re going to have to do this here. Her contractions are too close together. There isn’t enough time to move her.”
“Are you going to be able to put her out?”
“No. Not here.”
“I was afraid of that,” Mrs. Rourke said. “At least I got to be unconscious for al
l of mine. What do you need me to do?”
“We’ll need a couple of clean bed sheets and towels, hot water, a bowl, and a basin. Once we’ve got all that in place, I’ll tell you the rest.”
Claudia looked from one of them to the other. “I’m going to have my baby here?”
“No choice, I’m afraid. You’re too far along to get you to a hospital.”
“But—”
“Don’t worry, dear. Doc, here is the best. He’s delivered all eight of mine. You’ll be just fine.” Mrs. Rourke scurried out of the room.
“Is this your first?” Doc asked, as he prepared his instruments.
“My only,” Claudia ground out as another contraction took her breath away.
“Every woman says that when she’s in the throes of labor. When you see this beautiful baby and hold it in your arms, you’ll forget all about the pain. I’m willing to bet a pretty thing like you will have an entire baseball team by the time you’re done.”
Tears leaked out of Claudia’s eyes. The last thing she wanted was to think about ever having to go through this trauma again. She hadn’t meant to go through it in the first place.
Mrs. Rourke bustled back in with two clean sheets and some towels. “Here we go.”
“Emily, can you help Claudia remove her undergarments and cover her with the sheet?”
“Certainly.”
“I’ll be right outside. Just let me know when you’re ready.”
“Okay, dear, I’m going to need you to help me. When I say, lift your backside off the bed. I’m going to pull your dress up over your hips and take off your underpants.”
Claudia nodded. Sweat was pouring off her face, dribbling down her neck and between her breasts.
“Okay. Now.”
Claudia pushed down with her feet and struggled to lift herself off the bed long enough to allow Mrs. Rourke to peel her panties off. As she lowered herself, another contraction hit, and she screamed.