A Girl Divided

by Ellen Lindseth

  Genie scooted into the booth, and Tom sat beside her. Briskly going over the day’s specials, the waitress handed menus around.

  “I wonder if they have beer here.” Charity’s date, Jack, flipped the menu over and glanced up. “Anyone else want a drink?”

  “Coke is fine with me,” Genie said, setting her menu down.

  “Are you sure?” Tom asked, his brow furrowing slightly. “No need to be cheap on my account. I just got paid.”

  “It’s not that. I just don’t drink,” she said, thinking how things always seemed to go wrong whenever she imbibed. “But you can order whatever you like. It won’t bother me.”

  “If you’re sure . . .”

  “I’m fine.” She smiled, giving him her best Charity impression, since everyone loved Charity. Seeing as how this was her first real date since coming to LA, she really didn’t want to mess it up. Actually, it might be properly called her first real date ever. Having dinner with Ted in Calcutta didn’t really count, nor did her dinner in July with Dick, since neither man had wanted to actually date her.

  An appreciative warmth smoldered in Tom’s gray eyes as he gazed back. “I can’t get over how pretty you are, especially considering you’re a pilot.”

  Her smile faded a bit. “What do you mean?”

  “Well, you have to admit it’s not the most feminine of pastimes, though I might have to rethink my objections after meeting you and Miss Charity,” he said, utterly oblivious to the insult.

  She glanced at her roommate in disbelief. Charity gave a small apologetic shrug, and Genie’s hopes for the evening dwindled from finding true love to counting the minutes until she could escape.

  The waitress came back to take their order. While Tom ordered for the two of them, Genie dug through her purse for spare change. The jukebox had gone silent, spurring her to action. If she hurried, she could at least have decent music to help her endure dinner.

  Two dimes and five nickels later, she touched Tom on the sleeve. “Can you get up? I want to go pick out some songs.”

  “Sure, doll. Do you need some change?” He shifted and reached into his pocket. “I think I’ve got a quarter.”

  She hesitated briefly, not wanting to become too indebted to him, lest he expect more than a quick good-night kiss at the end of their date. Still, there was the whole dinner to get through. She took the coin. “Thanks.”

  He stood and let her out. “Don’t get lost.”

  She smiled through gritted teeth; his teasing condescension reminded her a little too strongly of Nathan. “I won’t.”

  Two hours. She would give him two hours to improve her impression of him. After that, she was going to throw in the towel and plead a savage headache.

  The jukebox was ten cents a song, or five songs for forty cents. After a quick calculation, she began selecting the eight songs that appealed to her the most.

  “I hear number three is a classic,” a voice drawled close to her ear.

  Her heart did a little stutter step. Hardly daring to breathe, she tilted her gaze up. No, she wasn’t dreaming. Ted was really standing next to her, close enough to touch. Close enough for her to fall into those incredibly beautiful dark eyes.

  “What are you doing here?” she managed when she could finally find enough air.

  “Grabbing a bite to eat, same as you.” His lips curved up ever so slightly, the small movement drawing her attention to his mouth. “Are you going to make a selection or not?”

  It took a second, but then she heard the tease in his question. Heat flooded her cheeks as she hurriedly dropped her gaze to the song list. Good gravy, but she could not keep her wits around this man. “So number three, hmm?”

  It was “Begin the Beguine.” The title instantly transported her back to the 300 Club, to that moment when she had been in his arms as he hummed along to the song while the band played. Little butterflies took flight by the thousands in her veins, and her fingers shook as she fed the coins into the slot.

  “Any others you’d suggest?” she asked, praying she didn’t sound as breathless as she felt.

  “Well . . .” His fingers touched the glass right next to hers, the warmth of his skin making hers burn with anticipation. Please, please, please . . . As if hearing her plea, he moved his hand until his fingers rested against hers. Sparks of sensation flooded up her arm and through the rest of her body, leaving her light-headed and weak. “I’ve always liked this one.” His voice deepened as he guided her hand to the right to stop above “Who Wouldn’t Love You?” by the Ink Spots.

  She shivered as his nearness brushed like fire along every nerve ending. “What are you doing, Ted?”

  “Enjoying your company,” he drawled in a low voice, his breath feather-soft against her ear. “Hoping you’ll join me for dinner.”

  Her knees felt like they would give way any second now. She cleared her throat. “That would be a little awkward, since I’m on a date right now.”

  “Really? With whom?” Abruptly, he straightened and looked around, his brows drawn into a harsh line.

  “The cadet by the window who’s waiting for me.”

  “Tom Anderson?” He relaxed. “That’s all right, then. He’s harmless enough.”

  “Harmless, maybe, but he’s also a first-rate ass.”

  “Genie, such language!” he said, feigning shock even as he laughed.

  “You should have heard what he said about female pilots,” she said, irritation sparking again. “It took everything I had not to bean him with the menu.”

  “You probably should have.” His amused smile sent her wits scattering again. “Maybe it would have knocked some sense into him.”

  She turned her attention back to the song list. “I think it might be a hopeless cause in his case, but thanks for the moral support.”

  “Who’s the other gal you’re with?”

  Her spirits sank. “My roommate, Charity.” And yes, she’s beautiful. Just don’t fall for her like every other male on the planet. “If you had come to Flo’s going-away dinner, you would have met her there.”

  His eyebrows climbed a little farther. “That’s Frank Short’s little niece, the pilot? Wow. She’s quite the looker.”

  “I know.” Glumly, she punched a series of numbers with a bit more force than the machine deserved. The number three for “Begin the Beguine” wasn’t among them.

  “But too blonde for me. I prefer gals with a bit more fire.”

  Her gaze jerked up to meet his. This time there was no mistaking the warmth in his eyes, and her pulse kicked in response, as did her bruised pride.

  “Where have you been?” The words were out before she could stop them. “I thought we were friends.”

  Apology darkened his gaze. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to drop off the map like that. I was sent to Texas on a special assignment that kept getting extended, which is why I wasn’t at Flo’s party, and why I never called you. I actually just got back into town this morning.”

  “Oh.” Further speech was beyond her, even though there was so much more she wanted to say, like she had missed him, and she understood he didn’t want to be more than friends, and that it was fine with her, as long as she could still see him once in a while.

  He glanced back at the booth containing Charity and the two cadet pilots. “If you’re done choosing songs, I think I’ll join you all for a bit, just to make sure a certain cadet knows to behave himself.”

  She noted the single bar pinned to his collar. “Do lieutenants outrank cadets?”

  He winked at her. “This one does.” He gestured for her to lead the way back to the booth, so she did.

  “Did you hear Flo is flying for the WAFS now?” she asked over her shoulder.

  “I did. Pretty amazing.”

  “Charity is going to apply to be a Woof Teddie as soon as she gets a few more hours. You know,” she added at his blank look, “a pilot with the Women’s Flying Training Detachment. It’s a new army program for those of us who don’t quite have
the five hundred hours to become a WAFS pilot but still want to help fly for our country.”

  “Try more like a thousand hours to join the WAFS, or so I heard. And are you sure about the army part? I haven’t heard a word about it.”

  “Well, here, ask Charity,” she said as they reached the booth. She almost laughed as the two younger pilots scrambled to their feet the second they saw Ted, their eyes wide.

  “Good evening, sir,” they said almost in unison. Tom’s gaze darted to her, and he swallowed uneasily.

  Ted smiled easily. “Gentlemen, mind if I join you for a moment? I’d like to speak with Miss Charity about this new training program she’s signing up for.”

  Tom scooted over on the booth bench to make room. Genie took a seat in the middle with Ted next to her, sandwiching her in. It was a little tight between the two men, but she couldn’t complain. Not with Ted’s thigh pressed against her own, sending delicious thrills of pleasure through her.

  A faint sounding of alarm prickled her conscience as she recognized the warmth in her blood for what it was: sexual attraction. She should shift away so their legs no longer touched, but that would mean moving closer to Tom. There just wasn’t enough room on the dratted bench.

  “The new training division is set to start in November down in Texas,” Charity told Ted, her face glowing with excitement. “Right now they’re looking for gals with as little as two hundred hours, but there’s also talk they might drop it lower if the first class is successful.”

  Ted frowned slightly. “That’s awfully low time to be ferrying military planes around.”

  “Oh, I don’t think so.” Charity leaned forward and tapped on the table with a painted nail. “Admit it, you’re sending pilots into battle, in these same planes, with a lot fewer hours and with less experience in general.”

  “True, but that doesn’t make it ideal. And they know what the score is when they sign up.”

  “And we don’t?” Charity arched an imperious eyebrow. “Or are you saying that women are somehow incapable of flying military aircraft?”

  “No, what I’m saying is it’s dangerous work, ferrying untested aircraft around. If I were you, I’d leave it to us men.”

  “Why?” Genie asked, genuinely curious. “Women do plenty of other dangerous jobs, like working on the assembly line. Should we leave that for men, too?”

  His eyebrows lifted at her question. “I hadn’t actually thought about it, but . . . yeah. I think women should be treasured, protected. They’re what holds society together. They represent everything that’s good and right in the world, the heart of the family. What do you think every soldier, sailor, and marine is out there fighting to preserve?”

  “Oh, I don’t know,” Genie said drily. “Maybe our way of life? Democracy and freedom?”

  “Well, that, too.” He tilted his head, conceding the point. “Still, I’m glad I don’t have to worry about you signing up anytime soon.”

  “Really?” Her temper sparked.

  “Really,” he said firmly. “Face it. The war will be long over before you get enough hours.”

  She narrowed her gaze. “And what if it isn’t?”

  “Then I would tell you to think twice, because I couldn’t date a girl who would recklessly endanger her life like that.”

  “Well, then, I guess it’s a good thing we’re not dating. Because no one—except the Good Lord and my father—has the right to tell me how to live my life.”

  “If you want to fly army aircraft, the army gets to tell you exactly that. I get told all the time what to do and how to do it, and I listen because they’re trying to keep me alive.”

  “Only until they aren’t,” she said. “There is a war going on, and you can’t tell me the army wouldn’t sacrifice you in a heartbeat if it meant the difference between winning and losing.”

  “As is their right,” he said stubbornly.

  She tried a different tack. “And if they asked you to give up flying because it was too dangerous, would you do it?”

  “That’s not what we’re arguing here. We’re talking about the intrinsic value of women to society. How important it is to keep you all safe and alive.” He sat forward, all electric intensity. “Take the case of our mothers. We both know firsthand the damage caused by their untimely deaths.”

  “Yes, but our mothers also both died without ever setting foot in an aircraft,” she said just as passionately, refusing to be intimidated. “Or by doing anything more risky than just living. People die, Ted. No one lives forever.”

  A muscle in his jaw twitched as he stood. “I’m done with this conversation. Charity, it was nice meeting you.”

  “Oh, fine. Walk away just because you don’t want to hear the truth,” Genie said, still incensed. “You’re such a coward.”

  He stiffened, and she abruptly realized she had all but shouted that last part. The other diners had stopped talking and were now staring at her.

  He flushed under his tan, and his nostrils flared. “What was that?”

  She shifted uncomfortably, but she would not back down. This was too important. “I said you’re a coward. Not physically. I know you risk your life every day, without hesitation, in service of this country. But when it comes to your heart, you won’t risk a thing.

  “You say it’s all about protecting women and keeping us safe, but really it’s about keeping us locked in gilded little cages so you won’t get hurt. You. Not us. But life doesn’t work that way. Love doesn’t work that way. Putting us in a cage will eventually kill us all by itself.”

  A deafening silence spread over the diner. Ted stood stock still, his dark eyes boring into hers. Heat prickled all over her skin as her anger turned into a kind of desperation. Her chest squeezed so tight, she couldn’t breathe. Please, please understand . . .

  Slowly, he turned his back on her and walked away.

  As if an electric cord had been cut, she slumped back in the booth, her mood turning bleak. What kind of fool was she? Ted had met her father, been in her home . . . and now she had driven him away.

  She had severed her last link to China.

  She felt like she might vomit.

  “Genie!” Charity hissed across the table.

  “I’m sorry. I think I’d better go.” She stood, refusing to meet her friend’s eyes. The shocked disapproval in the two flight cadets’ faces was awful enough. This is what comes from speaking one’s mind. How many times had she been counseled to hold her tongue—that it was better to be seen than heard? This was why.

  The fact that no one protested as she left the table only made her feel worse. Her hands shook as she lifted the receiver on the pay phone to call a cab. Then she realized she had used all her change in the jukebox and had only bills.

  “Here.” Charity appeared beside her and held out a dime, her pretty face pinched with worry. “Do you want me to come with you?”

  Genie shook her head and wiped her eyes with the back of her hand. “No. I’m so sorry.”

  “Don’t apologize. I was getting pretty steamed toward the end, too. You were just a lot braver than me. So don’t worry.” Charity gave her a quick hug. “You take care of yourself, and I’ll take care of the boys.”

  Drawing a deep breath while her friend returned to the booth to smooth the waters, Genie turned her back on the diner and inserted the dime to call a cab. Her emotions were too raw to see if Ted was still there. Part of her knew she had done the right thing by speaking up. She had fought too long and too hard for her right to make her own choices to be told she couldn’t.

  It still hurt, though, that the person she had to tell off was Ted. Ted, who, out of all the men gathered there, was the only one who had seemed to care what she thought, had actually seen her as a person.

  Or so she had believed. Now she wasn’t so sure.

  Chapter 40

  By the time Thursday arrived, Genie was a nervous wreck. She had changed her outfit at least five times, trying to decide which one would be the most appro
priate for meeting her aunt and uncle for the first time. Was her aunt as conservative as her father, or had living in the States these last twenty years made her more tolerant? Should Genie wear her hair up or down? If she put on a little mascara and lipstick, as was her custom now, would her aunt have a heart attack?

  There was so much she wanted to say. So much she wanted to ask. Like what was her father like as a child? What had her mother been like? Her grandparents? She was so hungry for information on her family, she didn’t know where to start.

  More than anything, though, she wanted to love her aunt and uncle, and to have them love her in return. What worried her was that they wouldn’t, because she had strayed so far from her father’s teachings. The doubts had started Friday night, after her argument with Ted, on her long cab ride home.

  The hard truth was her father would have agreed with Ted: women were to be protected. She was to be protected. Even worse, she believed it herself. Wasn’t that why she had felt so betrayed by Lavinia, because she had expected Lavinia to risk becoming a pariah to protect Genie? Yet protected meant caged, and she didn’t want that. Did she?

  Ironically, the more she tried to figure out what she wanted, the more unsure she became. An even greater irony was the fact that it had been Ted who had encouraged her all those months ago to start thinking for herself, and by doing so, she had driven him away.

  The only real clarity she had achieved from the weekend’s introspection was that she had been too harsh with Lavinia. Even though Genie still hadn’t figured out how to reconcile her faith with what Lavinia had been doing with Sheila that night, she recognized her friend had truly been between a rock and a hard place, thanks to Dick’s blackmail. Genie couldn’t honestly say she would have handled the situation any better than Lavinia had. Pricked by conscience, she had called the apartment over the weekend, not once but three times, hoping to catch Lavinia. But no one had answered.

  All week she had kept her eyes open at the plant, hoping to catch at least a glimpse of her former friend, but to no avail. It was getting absurd. If she didn’t see Lavinia this morning, tomorrow she would make the trek over to the machine shop tomorrow and hunt her down. Decency demanded that she make every effort to apologize, and the truth was, she missed Lavinia. A lot.