Mom didn’t keep her in suspense. “If you still want to, you have my permission to go to Sherry’s party.”
Want to! “Yes, oh yes, I want to!” Joanna threw her arms around Mom’s neck. She couldn’t believe it. Just when she’d given up all hope. “What made you change your mind?”
Mom stroked Joanna’s hair. “I thought about all the growing up you’ve had to do since Sam left. And, well, I still don’t approve of boy-girl parties at night at your age, but just this once, I think you deserve a special treat.”
“Thank you, Mom! Thank you!”—smack—“Thank you!”—smack—“Thank you!” Joanna kissed Mom’s cheek loudly between each thank-you.
“My goodness, I’ve never seen you so excited about a party before,” Mom said, shaking her head.
“Oh, it’s not about the party. Not really. It’s about a horse,” Joanna replied. She couldn’t sit still. She was too excited. She sprang up from the couch to do a happy twirl.
“A horse,” Mom repeated in confusion as she got up from the couch. “Of course.” She left the room still shaking her head.
When she was out of earshot, Joanna added softly, “And a boy.”
She went to her room to look through her closet and decide what to wear to the party, but first she turned on her radio. She was pleased to hear music instead of news. And she was amazed by the song that was playing. Why, it was as if even the universe had heard that she was going to the party after all. The song on the radio was “Sherry”! How amazing was that?
A little while later, her favorite skirt and blouse hanging front and center in her closet, Joanna blew a kiss to Sam’s photo, turned off her lamp, and snuggled into her pillow.
Such a strange day! But it had ended happily, and that was the main thing. Now, if only the Russians would take their missiles and go home.
CHAPTER 16
Shocking News
JOANNA SNAPPED ON HER RADIO FIRST THING THE NEXT morning to see if there was more information about the giant Russian ship. There was talk of more riots around the world and Joanna couldn’t help shivering. It was as if the whole world was going crazy. Then the newscaster’s voice lost some of its gloom-and-doom tone.
“Closer to home, the suburb of Des Plaines had an exciting evening last night when many of its citizens believed an air-raid alert was the real thing. Panic broke out and the police department was besieged with hundreds of calls from terrified citizens who thought our country was under attack. Advance phone calls had been made, advising people of the alert and asking them to notify neighbors and friends, but apparently the warning was not communicated as effectively as civil defense workers had anticipated.”
Ha! No kidding. Joanna grinned but she felt sorry for those people. She knew how terrified they must have been. But she felt a lot better knowing that an entire town had made the same mistake she had made. And they were grown-ups!
“. . . The weather today will be mostly cloudy with—”
She spun the dial and found another station that was reporting the news, but it didn’t say anything about the Pierce or the Poltava, either. Well, maybe no news was a good thing. That’s what she was going to think, anyway. Unless and until she heard otherwise.
She turned the dial again and caught the last half of “Do You Love Me?” It was the number one song of the week and one of her favorites. She danced and sang as she plucked a sweater and pants from her drawer.
Just like every other Saturday morning, right after breakfast, Mom and Joanna loaded the dirty laundry into a big white drawstring bag, set it in Sam’s old red wagon, and pulled it up Division Street to the Laundromat. Joanna stayed with the laundry while Mom went to the A&P two doors down and shopped for groceries. Joanna didn’t like getting up early on Saturdays, but at least she was guaranteed some good reading time.
Today she had the Laundromat all to herself and she had an especially good book. Taffy’s Foal was about a girl who lived in the country and had a horse she loved, but then had to move to the city and leave her horse behind. With the soft rumbling of the machines in the background, Joanna turned pages faster and faster.
She had just reached a really exciting part when the washers stopped. She hated to put down her book, but she had to shift the wet clothes into the dryers and drop dimes into the coin slots. She did it all as fast as she could, eager to return to the story, but on the way back to her chair, she noticed a Chicago Daily Tribune on top of a dryer. When she saw the headline, she forgot all about her book.
NIKITA DELAYS ARMS SHIPS
“Oh my gosh!” Joanna exclaimed. But right below that, in just a little bit smaller letters, it said:
Reds Speed Cuban Missile Buildup
“What?” The two headlines seemed to be saying opposite things. Joanna’s stomach dipped and churned as she read both articles.
The first one said Nikita Khrushchev promised that Russia would hold its ships back for a while in the hope that a conflict could be avoided. But the second article said work on the missile bases was going ahead faster than ever, and that the US was thinking about changing the quarantine—which was just for keeping out ships carrying weapons—into a full-blown blockade that kept out all ships, no matter what they were carrying—even food and medicines.
That sounded pretty drastic. But so did the fact that the Russians were building those missile bases so darn fast!
Joanna swallowed hard. She put down the newspaper. There were crumpled spots on both edges of it now from where her hands had clenched as she read.
She sat back down and tried to read her book, but her thoughts kept drifting off to Cuba and Sam. She was glad when she heard the buzz of the dryer and a few moments later Mom came through the door with two grocery bags in her arms. Together they folded the warm clothes and linens and stacked them neatly back inside the clean laundry bag. Then they set it and the two grocery bags in the wagon and headed home.
A little while later, laundry and groceries put away, Joanna decided to stop in to see Mrs. Strenge while Mom had a second cup of coffee and wrote a letter to Sam.
“I can only stay a few minutes,” she told a delighted Mrs. Strenge. “When Mom finishes her letter to Sam, it will be time to clean the apartment.” She wrinkled her nose. “I just wanted to see how Harvey is doing today.”
“See for yourself,” the old woman said with a laugh.
Joanna looked into the living room, where Harvey was batting an empty thread spool around the floor like a hockey player without a stick. He’d swipe with one paw and then the other and sometimes jump straight up in the air.
Joanna grinned. “He looks okay to me.”
“Thanks to you,” Mrs. Strenge said.
Joanna blushed. “I noticed yesterday that you have a whole bunch of S&H Green Stamps that need to be pasted into books. If you want, I can help you with them sometime.”
“Oh, that would be wonderful, dear.” Mrs. Strenge beamed. “With my stiff old hands it’s sometimes hard for me to tear the stamps apart.”
“Save them for me,” Joanna told her, sitting down on the sofa.
Mrs. Strenge eased herself into her chair. “How did it go when you got back to school yesterday?”
“A lot better than I expected,” Joanna admitted. “You were right. My teacher was way more understanding than I thought he’d be.”
“I’m glad,” Mrs. Strenge said with a pleased nod. Then she added thoughtfully, “It’s been my experience that most people are kind when we give them a chance.”
Joanna nodded hard in agreement. She hadn’t given Mrs. Strenge a chance and look at all the worries that had caused her.
When she went back downstairs half an hour later, Mom was just slipping Sam’s letter into an envelope. She grinned and said, “You’re right on time.” Joanna wrinkled her nose but went to work.
While Mom scrubbed floors and changed bed linens, Joa
nna dusted and vacuumed. Saturday morning was the one time Joanna was glad their apartment was tiny. It was always clean by noon, and she had the rest of the day to do something fun with Pamela.
When the weather wasn’t too cold or wet, they usually walked to the library, and they stopped at Woolworths on their way home to giggle over the true confession magazines. If they didn’t go to the library, they stayed home and played Monopoly or Clue or rummy. Today, though, Joanna hoped Marie would be off somewhere so she and Pamela could read more of The Book. So as soon as she had gobbled down a bologna sandwich, she headed upstairs.
Most of the time Pamela was ready and waiting, and she pounced on the door as soon as Joanna knocked. But that day it was a while before the door was answered, and it was an unsmiling Marie who opened it. Joanna tried to hide her disappointment. Chances for reading The Book didn’t look good.
She looked past Marie, expecting to see Pamela hurrying toward them, but all she saw was Mr. Waterman. He was in his chair, staring at the television—which was odd, because it wasn’t even turned on. Marie shifted her position, blocking Joanna’s view into the apartment.
“Is Pamela home?” Joanna asked.
Marie gave a little sniff. “She’s not feeling well.”
Golly! Pamela hardly ever got sick. She must’ve caught whatever Mr. Waterman had. “Oh. That’s too bad. Tell her I hope she feels bet—” But the rest of Joanna’s message was cut off because Marie closed the door.
Gosh! How rude. But maybe she wasn’t feeling well, either . . .
Back downstairs, Joanna told Mom that Pamela and Mr. Waterman were sick.
“Oh, what a shame!” Mom said. “I hope it’s nothing serious.”
“Just the flu, I think.” Joanna realized that Marie hadn’t really said. All Joanna knew for sure was that she had a long afternoon ahead.
Mom was spreading her books on the table. Joanna decided she might as well do her homework, too. She had the party to look forward to later, but doing homework was a boring way to spend a Saturday afternoon, and she couldn’t help the disgusted sigh that whooshed out of her when she sat down.
Mom gave her a sympathetic smile. Then the smile stretched into a grin. She slapped her book shut and stood up. “Forget your homework, young lady. We’re going to do something fun.”
Joanna looked at her. “What kind of fun?”
Mom winked. “The chocolate chip cookie kind.”
Joanna jumped to her feet with a little whoop. “Really?” She and Mom hadn’t baked cookies in ages.
“I bought enough ingredients to bake a double batch—one for Sam and one for us. I was going to wait until tomorrow, but I think we need some chocolate sooner rather than later. What do you think?”
“I think we should hurry up and get started!” Baking cookies for Sam was a terrific idea. Joanna couldn’t imagine anything bad happening to Sam when they were baking his favorite cookies. She could only think of how happy he was going to be when they arrived.
Mom stacked her books into a pile and swept them onto a chair, out of the way. Joanna did the same with hers. Then Mom headed for the refrigerator. “You get the flour, sugar, and brown sugar,” she said. “I’ll get the margarine and eggs.”
Joanna flew to the pantry. Soon the table was covered with ingredients and she was covered with flour. She’d never understand how Mom could bake and stay so clean. Joanna always managed to spill or splash things all over herself. But she’d be changing her clothes for the party anyway, so today it didn’t matter. And Dixie happily cleaned up most of what landed on the floor—everything except the flour, although she sniffed it and a little stuck to her nose. It looked pretty funny until Joanna wiped it off.
“If only we could make good things like this in Slop Class. Then it might actually be fun,” she told Mom as she licked a dab of cookie dough from her finger.
“Slop Class?” Mom echoed.
Joanna grinned. “It’s supposed to be cooking, but mostly we make things like custards and pudding and stuff that nobody wants to eat.” She shrugged. “Slop.”
Mom laughed. “Come to think of it, I had a class like that when I was in school, and it was pretty awful, too.”
The cookies turned out great. But when they’d cooled and Mom went to the shelf for containers to pack them in, she looked confused. “I could have sworn I had some empty coffee cans . . .”
Uh-oh! Joanna rushed to her closet and returned with two of the cans she’d filled with water. Cheeks burning, she carried them to the sink. “I’ll just empty them out,” she mumbled.
“Wait.” Mom stopped her. “Saving water is a good idea. I should have thought of it myself. What else have you put aside?”
Joanna led the way to her closet and opened the door. Mom looked inside at the jars of water and the cans and boxes of food, the flashlight, the quilt and pillow, and Dixie’s food. All the while, Joanna stood very still, hands clasped so tightly together that her fingers ached. If her mother laughed, she was sure she would curl up and die of embarrassment on the spot.
Mom turned around wearing such a wide grin that Joanna’s lip started to quiver. But she said, “What a great idea! You even remembered a can opener and a spoon. This is exactly the kind of thing I can imagine Sam doing.”
Joanna felt a rush of pride she hadn’t felt in a long time.
“Can I offer just one suggestion to make your shelter even better?” Mom asked.
“Sure.” Joanna looked at her expectantly.
“Your closet is only a few feet from your bedroom window. If we moved the shelter to the pantry, it would be a lot more protected.”
Joanna quickly nodded. Now that she didn’t have to keep the shelter a secret from Mom, she could see that the pantry really would be the safer place to hide if they had to. Not only was it farther from a window, it was bigger than her closet. “And this way we can just leave the food on the shelves,” she said.
“Let’s move these things right now.” Mom rolled up the quilt and stuffed it under her arm. Then she picked up the pillow. She looked at the ribbon-wrapped packet of Sam’s letters for a long moment. Then she laid them carefully in Joanna’s hands.
Joanna took the letters and the flashlight and the bag of Dixie’s kibble. Between the two of them, after just a couple of trips, she and Mom had emptied the closet and organized all the cans of food back in the pantry with the can opener beside them. Mom put the rolled-up quilt against the back wall and set two pillows on top.
Joanna got bowls and another spoon from the kitchen. Then she brought the coffee cans back from the sink after refilling them with fresh water. Mom added blank paper and pencils, a deck of cards, and some of her books and Joanna’s. Last of all she brought Sam’s navy photograph.
“This is a terrific shelter,” Joanna said when she and Mom both stepped back to view the results of their work.
“It is,” Mom agreed. She laughed suddenly and gave Joanna’s shoulders a quick squeeze. “Sam would be impressed.”
Joanna grinned. Mom was right.
Instead of packing Sam’s cookies in coffee cans so they wouldn’t get crushed, they packed them inside of the sturdy cardboard box Joanna’s winter boots had come in. They crumpled wax paper all around the sides and between the layers to keep the cookies from breaking. Then Mom and Joanna each wrote a note that they tucked inside.
Joanna’s note said, “Dear Seaman Sam—Don’t eat all these cookies at once just because Mom isn’t there to stop you. You’ll be Seasick Sam for sure if you do! Love, Joanna.”
Once the box was taped up and ready for Mom to take to the post office, settling down to do homework didn’t seem so awful anymore. But when Joanna opened her notebook, she found the letter she’d started to Sam the night before. If she’d been thinking, she could have slipped it in with the cookies, but getting a letter plus a package from home would probably be twice as nic
e for Sam. Besides, she had more to write about now.
She’d left off telling Sam about the air-raid drill that turned out to be a false alarm. She picked up her pen and wrote about how the very same thing had happened in the suburb of Des Plaines. Then she told him about the confusing stories in the newspaper.
It’s hard to know what to think when two stories on the same page say such different things. Oh my gosh, I nearly forgot the best news of all. Mom told me I can go to Sherry’s party tonight! I can still hardly believe it. Now if I can just get a chance to talk to Theo about his horse, maybe the two of us can go riding sometime.
If only she could keep Sherry away from him, Joanna thought but did not write.
Guess what? Mom and I set up a shelter in the pantry. I had started a secret one in my closet, but this one is a lot better. I’m so glad Mom doesn’t think I was dumb for trying to be prepared. I was afraid she would. Now we just have to hope we don’t need to use it.
Love,
Jo
Joanna folded the letter neatly and slipped it into the pocket of her notebook. She’d get an envelope from Mom later. She didn’t want to interrupt her while she was doing homework. In fact, Joanna decided to join her. She opened her math book and whizzed through the problems that had been assigned. She reviewed the spelling words for Monday’s test, and she wrote out answers to five geography questions. Every once in a while, she turned on her radio, but she wasn’t able to learn anything more about what was going on at the quarantine. No news is good news, she told herself again.
There was never anything interesting on TV on Saturday afternoons, so once her homework was finished, Joanna sat in her favorite chair and read the final pages of Taffy’s Foal. There was one really sad part that nearly made her cry. Luckily, though, the story didn’t end there, and things got better, so she was smiling by the time she closed the book. She had only one more library book left—The Black Stallion—and there was a long week ahead. Maybe she should save it? But in the end, she couldn’t resist temptation. She promised herself she would read slowly, though.
Cold War on Maplewood Street Page 11