A Girl Divided

by Ellen Lindseth

  Genie’s heels clicked on the polished marble as she hurried toward them. Anticipation and excitement fizzed through her veins, scattering the morning’s sorrows. Finally, after all this time, she would be face-to-face with an aunt she’d known only through letters and a single photograph. “Aunt Hazel?”

  The woman turned, her face lighting up. “Eugenia Claire! Oh, but you look just like your mother. I would know you anywhere.”

  “I’m so glad to meet you.” Genie stepped into her aunt’s embrace, all the turmoil in her heart vanishing under a warm tide of love.

  Aunt Hazel excitedly pushed her back and inspected her at arm’s length. Her blue eyes, so very like her brother’s, swept from Genie’s curled and pinned hair, down the blue-striped blouse and navy pencil skirt, to the pumps Genie had borrowed from Audrey.

  “You look so grown-up in that outfit,” her aunt gushed. Then a slight frown narrowed her gaze. “Does your father know you wear lipstick?”

  “I haven’t mentioned it to him in any of my letters,” Genie said, keeping her tone light. “But I can’t imagine he would object.”

  It was like Kunming all over again, except this time it was her father’s sister, not his assistant, who was questioning her choices. Her mood slipped a little. Thank goodness I wore the longer-length skirt.

  “Never mind, Hazel. I think you look pretty as a peach, Miss Eugenia.” A kind smile lit the weathered face of the older man. His brown eyes were warm with welcome. “I’m your new uncle, Arthur Sharkey. But you can call me Art, like everyone else.”

  She liked him at once. “It’s nice to meet you both. Do you have any baggage?”

  “Just the one case.” Uncle Art gestured to the leather valise on the ground. “We only expect to be here one night.”

  “Unless you think it will take you longer to pack,” Aunt Hazel said with sincere concern, seeming to have recovered herself. “We don’t want you to feel rushed.”

  “Pack?” Genie blinked in surprise. She had barely come to terms with meeting them.

  “So you can come home with us tomorrow.” Aunt Hazel gave her an odd look. “That is why Eugene sent you here to the States, isn’t it?”

  “Well, yes—”

  Aunt Hazel took both of Genie’s hands, and again Genie was struck by the uncanny resemblance between her aunt and her father. It was like looking into her father’s all-too-perceptive eyes. Her heart twisted with the sudden longing to be with him and Zhenzhu again.

  “Don’t worry,” her aunt said firmly. “We’ve an extra room in our apartment, so it will be no bother. There’s plenty for you to do with all the war activities going on: knitting and collecting and volunteering at drives. You could even help the girls in our church write letters to the boys overseas, to help keep up their morale.”

  “That all sounds lovely, but—”

  “Hazel, dear,” Art said gently. “Perhaps we should discuss the particulars over lunch. Eugenia here is looking a little pale.”

  “Yes, lunch.” Pulling herself together, Genie grabbed ahold of the suggestion like a life rope. “There’s the Harvey House here, or maybe we could find something close to your hotel. Do you know where you’re staying?”

  They did. Genie guided them out of the station, and at that point Uncle Art assumed complete control of the situation despite Genie being more familiar with the city. Ten months ago she would have expected nothing less from the lone man in the group. Now it exasperated her when he asked a train conductor, instead of her, the best way to get to the hotel. Still, Uncle Art was now family, and she had been raised to respect her elders.

  She turned her attention to her aunt while Uncle Art flagged down a taxi. “How was your trip?”

  As she had hoped, her aunt took the bait and began to describe everything they had seen along the way. Loving to talk seemed to be a Baker family trait, and Genie wasn’t above using it to her advantage. While her aunt complained about how crowded the train was and all the inconveniences of travel since the start of the war, Genie tried to decide what she wanted to do.

  Yesterday, if asked, she would have flatly stated she wasn’t moving from LA no matter what. Today she wasn’t feeling quite so sure of herself. Being with her aunt was making her face the uncomfortable truth that she had made a lot of decisions since leaving home, many of which her father would have decided differently.

  Maybe the failure was his, for never giving her the chance to practice speaking for herself. Or maybe it was hers, because she didn’t deserve the right, because women inherently couldn’t be trusted to make the right decision. Or—thinking of Dick and Skip and Ted—maybe men sometimes made bad decisions, too, in which case, she was only being human.

  The taxi arrived, and the three of them got in. While Aunt Hazel took in the sights, and Uncle Art discussed the war with the taxi driver, Genie refocused on the upcoming discussion.

  To be fair, their invitation wasn’t wholly unexpected. Family took care of family—that was just how things worked, in her experience. Of course her aunt wanted Genie to move in with them. It was, in fact, what her father had counted on when he had sent Genie to the States. If the situation were reversed, her father would be horrified to find his niece living in Peking on her own, having to find work to pay for food and a roof over her head. And if he had learned that the same niece had also been briefly under the protection of a married man and was still being pressured to sleep with her boss?

  She would be on the train bound for Kweilin faster than she could blink.

  Which meant if she wanted to stay in LA, her aunt and uncle mustn’t find out about Dick or Skip—or Lavinia, for that matter—lest her aunt ask why the girls were no longer friends after all their travels together.

  “Hazel was telling me you have a job?” Uncle Art asked, pulling her from her thoughts. “Where are you working?”

  Good question. Rather than go with the absolute truth, that she would be looking for a new one tomorrow, which might lead to questions of why she had just quit the one she’d had, she chose to answer as if he had asked in past tense, not present. “At Vultee Consolidated, in the secretary pool.”

  Her uncle’s eyebrows rose as if impressed. “So you’re involved in the war effort. Do you like it?”

  Another thorny question. She chose her words carefully. “I like feeling that I’m making a difference and helping our boys win the war. And they have a wonderful employee flight program, which helped me get my pilot’s license.”

  “You fly?” her aunt exclaimed from beside her, clearly aghast. Genie tried not to feel hurt by her aunt’s reaction. It wasn’t like she had taken up gambling.

  “I do,” she said, keeping her tone light. “And I’m told I’m a natural at it.”

  “But it’s so . . . unfeminine. Does your father know?”

  “I don’t know, but I don’t think he would mind.” On this, she felt like she was on firmer ground. “When he took me to the aviation exposition in Shanghai, he never said anything about women being unsuited for flight.”

  “Have you heard from your father?” Uncle Art asked suddenly. “Recently, I mean.”

  A deep-seated sorrow stole over her. “No. I send him a letter every week, but so far I haven’t gotten anything in return.”

  Her aunt sighed. “We haven’t, either. That’s why I was so happy to finally locate you. You and Eugene are my only family, besides Artie.” She reached over the seat and gave his shoulder an affectionate squeeze.

  He smiled warmly back at his wife, and the love between them was so clear, Genie felt a pang of envy even as her anxiety for her father’s safety increased. It had to be the postal service’s fault that nothing was getting through. She refused to allow it to be anything else.

  The taxi arrived at the hotel, and Genie got out of the car with the others. Aunt Hazel had started asking her questions about her trip around the world, and Genie did her best to make it sound exciting. It took a lot of self-editing to not mention Lavinia or Dick, which was exhausti
ng. Especially after all the morning’s emotional landmines. However, there was no getting around Nathan’s death.

  “Oh, you poor dear.” Aunt Hazel’s eyes were bright with unshed tears, having mistaken the cause of Genie’s voice breaking when mentioning it. Genie wanted to hug the older woman, who was clearly as empathetic and intrinsically kind as her brother—yet another couple of Baker traits that somehow had skipped her.

  Genie sighed inwardly as she reassured her aunt that she was fine. What she didn’t add was that it hadn’t been her heart broken that day, but Lavinia’s.

  “Does your father know?” her aunt asked. This was becoming the standard question of the afternoon.

  “The captain sent a cable when we reached port, but I don’t think he got it. I honestly don’t think anything is going through, on account of the war. The Society didn’t even know Nathan had left China, even though I’m sure my father had notified them so they could forward Nathan’s stipend to the States.”

  Which only reinforced her belief that something was off with the mail in and out of China, thanks to the war raging within her borders.

  Uncle Art shot Genie an uneasy look from the front desk, one that she wasn’t sure how to interpret.

  Her aunt was talking again, her face alight with excitement. “I can’t wait to show you all the things I picked up in San Francisco. They have a Chinatown there, and I wanted you to feel at home, so I bought all sorts of things for your room.”

  Uncle Art joined them. His smile wasn’t quite as easy as it had been. “You beautiful gals ready to head upstairs? The front desk is making a reservation for us. As soon as we drop off the bag, we can eat.”

  “Oh, and I have a surprise for you, too!” Aunt Hazel said as they got into the elevator with the bellhop. “I went through my old family albums and found some wedding photos of your father and mother. I brought a few along because I couldn’t wait to show them to you.”

  “I would love to see them,” Genie said, touched by the gesture. The more time she spent with her aunt, the more she wished she didn’t have to let her down. Aunt Hazel was so excited by Genie’s mere existence, it was humbling.

  The elevator operator opened the gate for them when they reached their floor. Genie followed her aunt and uncle into their small hotel room.

  “Hazel, love. Why don’t you look for those photos while we wait for the front desk to call with our reservations?” Uncle Art asked his wife as he set the valise on the bed.

  “Good idea. I think I even threw in one of Eugene as a baby.” Aunt Hazel immediately seized the tiny lock and began rolling the tumblers. While she did so, Uncle Art gently took Genie’s elbow and pulled her aside.

  “You should probably see this,” he said in a low voice as he pulled an envelope from his inner jacket pocket. “It came yesterday. I haven’t shown it to Hazel yet. I didn’t want to spoil her day, but I figured you’ve a right to know. It sounded like your copy hasn’t arrived yet.”

  Genie hesitated and then took the envelope from him. Turned slightly so her back was to the room, she read the front. It was from the Society. Dread, sharp and cold, swept through her veins, leaving her light-headed and shaky.

  Uncle Art touched her arm. With one eye on his wife, he leaned closer and whispered, “The news isn’t good, Genie. You might want to wait until you’re alone to read it.”

  Fighting a wave of nausea, she stared at the unopened envelope, the need to know duking it out with the very real possibility of having her worst fear realized. Her aunt prattled on happily behind her as she dug through the suitcase. With crushing certainty, Genie knew what the letter would say and what the news would do to her aunt. What it would do to her.

  Her breath came quicker, her lungs refusing to expand. The pain was too great.

  The floor tilted, and she reached for the wall. She couldn’t lose her father. She wasn’t ready to be an orphan.

  Uncle Art caught her shoulder. “I’m so sorry I had to be the one to tell you, but when you kept saying you hadn’t heard anything, I wasn’t sure if you were protecting your aunt, or if you really didn’t know.”

  “I didn’t know,” she said, amazed she could actually speak.

  “If you need some time to yourself, I’ll make your excuses to Hazel.” His brown eyes radiated strength and compassion as their gazes met. She felt the pang of envy again. Her aunt was so lucky to have him to help her through the dark months ahead. Genie had no one.

  That’s not true, her mind whispered. If you go home with them, you won’t be alone. You and your aunt will have each other. And Uncle Art.

  It wasn’t like she had to worry anymore about asking for time off from work.

  Grief hit her again in an unassailable wave, and her knees almost buckled under the blow. If her father was gone, then likely Zhenzhu . . . Oh Lord, no. Please. Not Zhenzhu, too. She had to get out of here.

  “Will you tell her soon?” she asked, handing the envelope back to him. Perhaps tomorrow she would ask to read the letter, when she was stronger and not so broken.

  “I’ll tell her tonight, after you leave. I wanted her to have the joy of meeting you before the news took it all away.”

  She gave him a small smile, his face blurring with tears. Maybe, someday, if the Lord forgave her, she would find someone as kind and loving for herself.

  “What are you two whispering about?” The friendly tease in her aunt’s voice made Genie want to sob.

  Summoning the last of her emotional reserves, Genie turned around to face her father’s sister, her aunt, and smile. “Nothing important. Though, if you don’t mind, I think I’ll pass on lunch. I’ve got a lot of packing to do if I’m going to make that train tomorrow.”

  “Yes, of course.” Delight and relief sparked brightly in her aunt’s face, making it clear how much Genie coming home with them meant to her. Genie was definitely doing the right thing. “Will we see you tonight for dinner?”

  “I’ll try, but it depends on how far I get.” She hugged her uncle and then her aunt. More tears threatened as she clung to her one last family member. “I’ll see you tomorrow, though, for sure.”

  Chapter 42

  “I can’t believe it,” Charity said later that evening. Her friend lay on the bedspread, her chin propped in her hands as she watched Genie cram the last of her clothes into her battered suitcase. “I’m so sorry about your father, but it won’t be the same without another pilot in the house. Audrey and Janice glaze over whenever I try to talk about flying.”

  “You’ll be with other pilots soon enough.” Genie looked dispiritedly around the room for anything she might have missed. She wondered if Uncle Art had broken the news to Aunt Hazel yet. She hoped the grief wouldn’t kill her aunt. Genie wanted many, many more years to get to know her relative.

  “You’re going to keep flying, right?” Charity gave her a stern look. “Because if I hear you’ve quit, I will personally come to Fresno and drag your little derriere to the airport. And if I can’t make it, because I’m in training, I’ll be sure to send Mrs. Cochran.”

  Genie huffed a small laugh at the thought of the feisty Women’s Ferrying Division head showing up at Aunt Hazel’s house. Her spirits lifted a little. Now, there was someone Genie would love to meet. Jackie Cochran was a legend, having started her own cosmetic empire in her twenties and learning to fly on a whim. Now she was a fearless champion of women being allowed to fly for the military. Something both Ted and Aunt Hazel disapproved of.

  Her spirits crashed and burned again. Moving to Fresno would also mean never seeing Ted again, too, even in passing. Still, returning to her father’s family and leading the life he would have wanted for her, surely that would provide its own reward. Wouldn’t it?

  She rearranged her clothes to make them lie smoother in the suitcase. “Speaking of Mrs. Cochran, when do you think you’ll hear back on your application?”

  “Soon. My acknowledgment letter said I’m being considered for the November class, so I should be finding ou
t any day now.”

  “You’ll make it. Don’t worry.” Of that, Genie was sure.

  With nothing left to pack, she shut the lid, the click of the latches sounding hopelessly final. At least she had dodged the question of whether she would keep flying, because likely she wouldn’t. It was something she had wrestled with all afternoon after stopping by the plant to pick up her last paycheck.

  Though it depressed her to no end, the bottom line was she couldn’t keep doing something if it distressed her aunt. It would be selfish of her, and she had been selfish enough recently to last the rest of her life. Maybe someday, once her aunt had recovered from this latest shock, Genie would consider returning to the air.

  Maybe she would even return to China, to see if anything was left of her village.

  Tears welled in her eyes, and she struggled to breathe.

  Charity hopped off the bed and threw her arms around Genie. “Don’t cry, dear heart. Do you know how it happened?”

  Genie dragged in a shuddering breath, Charity’s familiar perfume comforting her. At least some things didn’t change.

  Panta rei, Genie. Her father’s beloved voice echoed in her memories. It was like a knife between her ribs.

  She closed her eyes and exhaled. “I don’t know. I never actually got a chance to read the letter.”

  “Wait—you what?” Charity sounded almost angry. “If you didn’t read it, then how do you know he’s actually . . . you know.”

  “Uncle Art said it was bad news.”

  “Yes, but maybe it said he was ill, or missing, or had lost all his money in a bad bet.”

  “My father doesn’t . . . didn’t gamble.”

  “Still, you said the letter was from his employers, right?”

  “Yes. It was from the Society. So?”

  “Didn’t you once say they were hopeless, not even knowing where their own ministers were?”

  Genie frowned slightly. Charity had a point. The Society had lost track of Nathan with the chaos reigning in China.