Cold War on Maplewood Street

by Gayle Rosengren

  She nodded. Her hip hurt where she’d fallen on it and she was afraid she’d cry if she opened her mouth.

  That was just the first of many losing battles she and Sam fought with her bike that spring. Battles that left Sam discouraged, Joanna scraped and bruised, and poor Thunder scratched and dented. Joanna began to wish she’d never seen a bike. Everyone else in the world was able to ride one except her. And every time she tried and failed, she got more scared.

  Until one day, when she and Pamela were about to play hopscotch, Tommy Nagel, from the next block over, came riding up on the smallest bike she’d ever seen. It was half the size of hers. Tommy braked hard just before he reached them and skidded to the edge of the game lines they’d just drawn on the sidewalk with a piece of chalk.

  Pamela yelled, “Hey, watch out!”

  But Joanna had forgotten the hopscotch game. She was staring at Tommy’s bike. Even she could ride something as small as that! She was sure of it.

  “Can I try your bike?” she begged.

  Looking at her put the sun in his eyes. He shaded them with one hand and squinted up at her. “Don’tcha got one of your own?”

  “I just never saw one so small before,” she said. “I want to see what it would feel like to ride it.” Her heart thumped with excitement. She could ride this bike. She knew it. He had to let her.

  Tommy shrugged. “I guess. But only to the corner and back. I got things to do.”

  Joanna nodded. “Right.”

  He stood up and offered her the handlebar. She took hold of it and straddled the bike. Right away she felt different. In control. On her own bike she could only touch the ground with the very tips of her toes. But on this bike she could rest both feet flat. Without giving herself time to think, she pushed off and began to pedal. The bike rolled forward—without a wobble, without a tip, without a crash.

  She pedaled faster. Houses flashed past on one side of her, parked cars and trees flashed past on the other. She pumped her legs harder and the bike spurted ahead even faster. The wind rushed past her ears and lifted the hair from the back of her neck. Flying! It was like flying!

  Joanna returned Tommy’s bike and ran straight to the shed to get Thunder. She climbed on and rode off as if she’d been doing it all her life. The fear that had always gone with her before had vanished.

  She and Pamela rode bikes together all that afternoon. They were still riding when Sam came home from his job ushering at the neighborhood movie theater. The look on his face when Joanna whizzed up and burned a trail of rubber in front of him was priceless. First he grinned. Then he laughed. Then he clapped his hands and whistled loud and shrill through his fingers.

  Joanna remembered the details of that day as clearly as if they’d happened hours ago instead of years. She could close her eyes and see the sun glinting off the handlebar, hear the thrilling squeal of her tires, and smell the buttery popcorn aroma that clung to Sam when he hugged her. She had never felt so proud of herself.

  Joanna smiled, remembering it all as she sped around their block over and over until the streetlights went on. Then, out of breath but calmer, she put her bike away and went home, where she curled up on the chair next to Sam’s navy photo.

  “Mr. and Mrs. Waterman are usually so happy,” she told him, just as if he really were beside her. “It was awful seeing them so mad at each other.” She hunched forward and propped her chin in one hand. “And Mrs. Waterman looked so scared about what could happen with Cuba.” Joanna frowned thoughtfully. “Mom isn’t scared at all. Of course, Mrs. Waterman is more sensitive than Mom, her being an artist and all. But it scared me seeing her so upset.”

  She looked hopefully at the photo. The navy’s Sam looked sternly back at her.

  What would he tell her to do if he were here? What would he do? She frowned and tried to imagine it. He wouldn’t just sit around worrying, that much was certain. He would do something.

  An idea had been forming in the back of her mind ever since she’d walked into the corner store yesterday. Now it came clear.

  Joanna went to her bedroom and pulled out everything that was on the floor of her closet—boots, an old pair of sneakers, a too-small pair of patent leather dress shoes, and a stack of board games—Monopoly, Clue, checkers and Chinese checkers. She shoved all of it across the floor and under her bed.

  Then she went to the pantry and took stock of what was on the shelves. Not much—a box of crackers, two boxes of cereal, some cans of soup, a box of macaroni and cheese, canned vegetables, canned tuna, a can of salmon, canned peaches, and a brand-new jar of peanut butter. Half a box of raisins, a jar of applesauce, salt, and a bottle of vinegar—yuck! A nearly empty bag of sugar and another of flour. That was all.

  Joanna sighed but she got right to work taking armfuls of all of the canned goods to her closet. She also took the raisins, the peanut butter, and the box of crackers. She left the cereal for tomorrow’s breakfast and she shifted the remaining items around so hopefully the shelves wouldn’t look quite so empty. Mom was always in such a hurry that with any luck she wouldn’t even notice things were missing.

  Next, Joanna looked for containers with lids. Mom saved jars from Miracle Whip and applesauce and cans from coffee, too. The jars were good for storing leftovers in the fridge, and the cans with their plastic lids were great for storing cookies.

  There were three empty cans and five jars, all sparkling clean and lined up neatly on the shelf above the refrigerator. Very carefully Joanna stood on a chair and took them down one by one. Then she took them to the sink and filled each of them with cold water. Finally, she carried them to her closet and stood them up along the back wall. There! Drinking water.

  Dixie had been watching Joanna’s comings and goings from her favorite spot, under the kitchen table. But she came into the bedroom while Joanna was organizing the cans and jars and poked her head under Joanna’s arm.

  “Well, hello!” Joanna laughed. She scratched behind Dixie’s pointy ears while she thought about what else she might need in her bomb shelter. Suddenly she looked at Dixie and gasped. “Ohmygosh, Dix! I nearly forgot your food!” She scrambled to her feet and hurried back to the pantry.

  Luckily, Dixie’s bag of kibble was still half full. It would last a while. And there was a nearly full box of dog biscuits, too. “We might end up sharing these, Dix,” Joanna said, only half joking. If they did end up using this makeshift bomb shelter, she had no idea how long they might have to stay in it. How long did radiation stay around? Days? Weeks, maybe?

  She took the extra quilt and pillow from the chest in Mom’s room and made a sleeping nest for Dixie and herself on the floor of the closet. Looking at the cans of food again, she suddenly realized that she’d forgotten she’d need a can opener—and a spoon would be good, too. And a flashlight! Joanna quickly added these items to the closet.

  The last thing Joanna added to her bomb shelter was the packet of Sam’s letters. She tucked them under the pillow. There. She was as prepared as she could possibly be if they were attacked. She’d just have to grab her radio on her way in so she could listen to emergency broadcasts.

  Joanna hoped with all her heart that Mom would be home if war broke out. There was room enough that they could both snuggle inside her closet with Dixie if they had to. Mom would be glad then that she had thought to prepare for the worst. But with Mom gone so much of the time, it was much more likely Joanna would be alone.

  It was a terrible thought. But it was true.

  CHAPTER 12

  Keeping Sam Safe

  JOANNA MADE THE BOX OF MACARONI AND CHEESE FOR supper. She ate while she listened to the news, which wasn’t good. Russian ships were still headed for Cuba. If they didn’t alter their course, they would reach the US ships quarantining the island tomorrow. She tried hard not to think of what would happen when the ships came face-to-face. Would the Russian ships turn away? Or would they attack th
e US ships that blocked them? And what would happen to Sam if he was there?

  He would be okay, she told herself. He had to be okay.

  She’d finished her homework and was watching Dr. Kildare when Mom came home. Joanna snapped off the TV and followed her to the kitchen. While Mom reheated the macaroni and cheese, Joanna dropped into a chair at the table. She had to at least try to convince her mother.

  “Mom, could we both please stay home tomorrow?”

  Mom turned from the stove with a startled expression on her face. “Stay home? Whatever for?”

  “Because tomorrow’s when the Russian ships will reach our ships. It’s when maybe there’ll be shooting. And maybe—”

  “Joanna, darling, stop.” Mom held up her spoon. “I can’t afford to miss a day of work, and you can’t afford to miss a day of school.” Mom turned back to the stove and vigorously stirred the pot.

  Joanna wanted to say, “If war starts, at least we’ll be together!” But she knew her mother would only tell her she was scaring herself and not to think about such things. How could her mother not think about such things?

  • • •

  Later, when Joanna was in bed and very nearly asleep, she heard something that made her stiffen. It sounded like someone was crying. She raised herself on one elbow and listened harder. Yes, someone was definitely sobbing. And it sounded like they were nearby—probably upstairs with Mrs. Strenge, the secret Russian spy! Could she have kidnapped that little blond girl after all?

  Abruptly, the crying stopped.

  A chill skittered up Joanna’s back. Nobody stopped crying that fast. The cries had been silenced by something—a hand, or maybe a pillow! Joanna held her breath and strained her ears, but all she could hear was her own fast-thumping heart. Maybe she should go tell Mom. No. She would say Joanna had been dreaming. Or that she was imagining things. Again.

  Joanna slid back down on her pillow and tried to go to sleep. But it wasn’t easy.

  • • •

  Mom and Joanna were at Oak Street Beach. The scratchy green army blanket marked their space on the sand, and their towels and shoes held down its corners. Mom didn’t usually go in the water, so Joanna was surprised when she followed Joanna out farther and farther into the chilly waves.

  “How come you came in the water today?” she asked her mother.

  “Because I don’t want to leave you alone,” Mom replied.

  “But you leave me alone all the time,” Joanna reminded her.

  “That’s why,” Mom said.

  Joanna puzzled over Mom’s answer as she squinted across the surface of Lake Michigan. It was dotted with sailboats and motorboats and even a few really big boats Sam had told her were called yachts. Most of the boats were close to shore, except for the big yacht that was coming over the horizon. Coming really fast.

  She touched Mom’s arm, then pointed. “Look at that big yacht.”

  Mom looked. Then she gasped. “Ships!”

  As Mom said the word, Joanna saw that it was true. This was no graceful yacht. It was an enormous steely gray ship. The Pierce! And it was flanked by smaller ships. And steaming toward all those ships was a cluster of other ships that were painted bright red.

  Artillery blasts from the red ships shook the air. They slammed into the side of the Pierce, ripping terrible holes into its steel flesh. Joanna heard wails and cries and shouts. Then there was a huge explosion and the whole side of the ship burst open, like a potato that wasn’t pricked with a fork before it was baked. Men came spurting through the opening into the water. Some tried to swim away, but more of them disappeared quickly under the waves.

  Sam? Where was Sam? Joanna knew without a doubt he was nearby. The only question was whether he was alive or if he’d been swallowed by the lake. No. He had to be alive. And she had to find him. But Mom was pulling her back toward shore. “Come with me, Joanna. Hurry!”

  “No. Let me go! I have to save Sam!” Somehow Joanna shook off Mom’s hands. The next moment she was in a rowboat, scanning the water desperately for Sam. There! She saw him. He was swimming toward a big yellow raft—the inflatable kind made out of rubber. As she watched, more rafts blossomed like lily pads in the water.

  Joanna yelled, “Over here, Sam!” because she knew if he came to her, he’d be safe. She knew this the same way she knew that if he got on that raft, he wouldn’t be. But he headed for the raft. When he reached it, he flung one arm over the side and started to climb in.

  Bullets blasted—bam, bam, bam, bam, bam! They tore into the raft. It shriveled and in seconds Sam was left clinging to a useless piece of rubber. Bullets smacked the water all around him—bam, bam, bam, bam!

  “Sam!” The word gurgled out of her throat and woke her up.

  The radiator was banging—bam, bam, bam.

  For once Joanna wasn’t relieved to wake up from a nightmare. Her dream had ended before she could save Sam. She was safe, but she couldn’t shake the awful feeling that he wasn’t. Her mouth was dry. Her heart was pounding so hard, she thought she might be having a heart attack. And every time she closed her eyes, she saw bullets blasting around Sam.

  Finally, she sat up and flung back her covers. Maybe a drink of water would help put the horrible dream behind her. She gasped as her feet hit the cold floor. Dixie, curled up on her little rug, raised her head sleepily, then sighed and put it down again.

  When Joanna opened her bedroom door, she noticed the living room light was on. Water forgotten, she detoured to the living room, where Mom had fallen asleep hugging the framed photo of Sam. Joanna noted with a jolt of surprise that there were tear stains on her cheeks.

  Gently she touched her mother’s shoulder. “Mom?”

  Mom jerked awake. “What’s wrong?” She looked anxiously left and right.

  “Nothing. Everything’s fine,” Joanna told her quickly. “You fell asleep on the couch, that’s all.”

  Mom’s body relaxed. She nodded. “I just meant to rest my eyes for a minute.” She started to sit up and realized she had the picture frame in her arms. A tender look crossed her face as she lifted it and then, very carefully, set it back in its place on the end table.

  She rubbed her arms. “Brrr. It’s cold. Thanks for waking me. I’d have been an icicle by morning.” She snapped off the lamp and guided Joanna down the hall in the circle of her arm.

  Joanna forgot to get her drink of water, but by the time she climbed back into bed, her heart had stopped its furious thumping. When she closed her eyes, she didn’t see Sam in the water anymore. She saw Mom asleep on the couch, hugging Sam’s picture to her heart.

  Keeping him safe.

  CHAPTER 13

  Air Raid!

  “THE WORLD WATCHES AND WAITS TODAY AS RUSSIAN ships continue on their course toward Cuba. There is speculation that the ships that turned back since the quarantine went into effect are those that were carrying forbidden materials, and that those that have remained on course are carrying innocent cargoes, but that remains to be seen . . .”

  Knowing how sneaky the Russians were, Joanna could imagine them expecting the United States to think exactly this way so they could catch the ships off guard, like they had in her dream last night. Joanna trembled just thinking of it, so she tried hard not to.

  “So, is your dad sad that Uncle Zach is leaving today?” she greeted Pamela, determined to steer conversation away from Cuba right from the start.

  Pamela laughed. “He told him good luck with finding an apartment and to watch out for French women.”

  Joanna grinned. “Wouldn’t it be cool if he was still living there when we’re older? Then maybe we could save up our money and go visit him.” She waggled her eyebrows. “We could meet French boys. Ooh-la-la!” They both dissolved into giggles.

  After that, the rest of the way to school, if one of them showed signs of stopping laughing, the other one just had to wagg
le her eyebrows or say “Ooh-la-la!” to start her up again. By the time they arrived at school, Joanna’s stomach hurt from laughing. But even laughter couldn’t keep her thoughts from straying back between ooh-la-las to what might be happening in the waters off Cuba.

  That morning the girls in Joanna’s class were all talking about Sherry’s party. It was as if Cuba and the Russians didn’t exist. Or maybe talking about which records they’d play and what boys were coming were their ooh-la-las—their way of not thinking of things that were too scary to think about.

  Joanna knew she should tell Sherry she wouldn’t be coming to the party, but she couldn’t bring herself to do it in front of the other girls. She’d catch her alone later. If there was a later.

  Joanna was heading to her desk when Theo suddenly appeared in front of her. “Hi,” he said. This morning his eyes were like the deepest, bluest part of Lake Michigan. For a moment, Joanna felt herself floating into them. She had to yank herself back. “H-hi.”

  Theo shuffled his feet. “I was, uh, wondering if you’ve heard anything from your brother—the one in the navy.”

  Joanna sighed. “No. All I know is he’s in the Atlantic on a destroyer named the Pierce. And since they’re sending so many ships to the quarantine, his might be one of them.”

  Theo shook his head slowly. “You must be awfully worried about him.”

  Joanna nodded hard. “I’m having horrible nightmares.” The words just popped out. And then they kept on coming. “Sam’s my only brother, and he’s the best guy you’d ever want to meet. I-I couldn’t stand it if anything happened to him.” She stopped abruptly and looked down at her feet, embarrassed that she’d shared so much. All he’d wanted to know was if she’d heard from Sam. He didn’t want to hear all her deepest fears.

  But Theo’s feet took a step closer to Joanna’s. “He’ll be okay, Joanna. You’ll see.” His voice was low and sympathetic. Joanna couldn’t help looking up.