by Anne Mateer
Ollie followed Janie onto the porch. I hurried toward the gate. Part of me wanted to run back and sweep that sweet baby into my arms. To hold on tight. But the greater part of me wanted to go. Now.
I glanced up the road. Then I looked back at Ollie and Janie—and James and Dan, who now stood on the porch, as well, their expressions of bewilderment jabbing my already tortured soul.
If I could take care of them, anybody could, I told myself. Nola Jean would do just fine. I forced myself forward. Janie shrieked again. I closed my eyes and ran.
As the train pulled away from the station, my heart twisted in my chest like a wet skirt beneath my hands. How could I have left Janie in such a state? I covered my eyes. James’s face, full of longing and fear, haunted that darkness. But this little trip was for the best. The children didn’t need to become any more attached to me. They needed to be ready to welcome whoever would care for them when I left. Irene. Or Mrs. Crenshaw. Or maybe even Frank’s new wife. It wouldn’t be unusual for him to take one right away.
My head lolled against the window as a yawn stretched my lips. The gentle sway of the train rocked my aching eyelids closed.
I dreamt Arthur and I sat together in his airplane, high above all I knew. The world looked different from there. Small. Insignificant. And it bothered me that it felt that way. When a commotion woke me, I felt dissatisfied, as if my dream trip wasn’t exactly what I’d hoped it would be. Yet it was exactly the adventure I longed to take.
The train emptied, mostly, at Union Station in Dallas. A huge building, several train lines coming and going. People whizzed past, hardly a face that didn’t carry a broad smile and a quick laugh. The war was over. And today Dallas would celebrate. Swept up in the festive crowd, I forgot all about the farm, the children, and their father. I even forgot Daddy’s words about Mama’s recovery, or lack of it.
Finding Arthur filled my thoughts. But how to get to the Frolic? Out of the corner of my eye, I spied a man in uniform. I’d given up on Mama’s instructions not to talk to strange men, so I walked right up to the soldier, bold as you please.
“Excuse me. Would you know where I could catch the conveyance to Love Field? For the Flyin’ Frolic.”
His eyes raked over me, from my feet to my head. I took a step backward, pulling my coat more tightly around my body.
“I’m on my way there, too, pretty lady. Perhaps we could go together?”
“I . . .” My heart pumped faster, and I swallowed hard. “I don’t know . . . sir.”
He reached for my hand and laid it in the crook of his arm. “Captain Denton, miss. Let me escort you there. Wouldn’t do to have you wandering the streets of Dallas alone, now, would it?” His toothy grin didn’t ease my concern, but I allowed him to lead me to a ticket counter anyway.
“Oh! I thought the trains weren’t running out there. Don’t we need a streetcar?”
Captain Denton shook his head. “They got a special train ready to go to Love Field for today. Forty-three cents for the round trip.”
I looked at the man behind the counter. He nodded in agreement.
“Well, then. That sounds just fine.” And it did. Much more familiar—and safe.
I handed my money to the ticket agent—money I felt sure Frank had sent home for his family. But I couldn’t worry about that now. Besides, it wasn’t as if I’d spent the entire five dollars. The ticket clerk directed us to a booth where I could also purchase my admission ticket to the Frolic. Fifty cents more. I bit my lip and prayed the remainder would be enough to get the children and me through until Frank came home.
Captain Denton led me to the platform. Hundreds of others waited with us, or so it seemed. When the train whistle sounded, the crowd swarmed ahead, everyone wanting to be the first aboard. Captain Denton held my arm, guiding me through the throng, securing a seat for me by the window and one on the aisle for himself.
He whistled low. “This is something, isn’t it? I never imagined so many people would be coming out to watch the show.”
A nervous smile played on my lips. “No, I never imagined.”
He leaned back in his seat and crossed one leg over the other. “Are you from Dallas, Miss . . . ?”
My fingers gripped my handbag. “Hendricks. And no, I’m not from Dallas. I’m from Oklahoma, but I’m staying . . . nearby.” My tongue slid across my dry lips. “I came out to find my . . . my beau. He’s stationed at Camp Dick.” I clamped my lips shut, wondering if I’d given the man too much information.
“I know most everyone at the camp. Who is this beau of yours?”
I clicked the clasp on my handbag as I studied Captain Denton’s face. His blond hair and brown eyes appeared warm and inviting now, more friendly.
“Arthur. Arthur Samson. From Tyler.”
His eyebrows arched.
“What?” I laid my hand on his arm. “What do you know? Please, tell me. I beg you.”
His face rearranged, all smiles now. He patted my hand. “Don’t you worry. I’m sure he’ll be thrilled to see you.”
I leaned against the back of the seat in relief. Arthur would be glad to see me. Of course he would. That’s why I’d come.
I had thought Union Station crowded, but the airfield teemed thicker with humanity.
Captain Denton ushered me inside the gates. I unbuttoned my coat, fearful I’d faint before I found Arthur. Between the crush of people and the rising sun, I welcomed the refreshing November breeze closer to my skin.
We picked our way through the crowd, my head turning left and right as I gripped my handbag more tightly. So many uniforms. So many faces. What if I couldn’t find Arthur?
“Don’t worry. I’ll find him for you.” Captain Denton’s voice carried over the din.
“I’ve never seen so many people in one place in my life!” I stood on my tiptoes, trying to get a better look.
Captain Denton chuckled as he led me to the bleachers. “You sit here and enjoy the show. I’ll find your Mr. Samson.” He found me a seat before striding off in the opposite direction.
It didn’t take long for me to remove the coat completely and lay it across my lap. My skin tingled with anticipation. Arthur would be with me soon. I’d see his face, hear his voice. Of course, we wouldn’t be able to embrace. Not in public. But our eyes would hold each other. And when he spoke, his words would wrap around me as securely as if they were his arms.
Airplanes thundered overhead, drowning out my daydreams.
A man in front of me leaned toward his wife. “Jennies. They’re called jennies.”
I raised my eyes to the sky, oohing and aahing with the rest of the crowd as the aviators piloted their planes through loops and rolls, sometimes flying upside down, other times heading in a straight line for the earth before suddenly lifting back up into the air. My hand covered my thumping heart. Never had I imagined the aerial feats I watched that morning. Did Arthur do such things?
The acrobatics continued for a while longer. My stomach rumbled as the show drew to a close and my worries crept back in. What if Captain Denton couldn’t find Arthur? And what if he never came back to find me?
I craned my neck for sight of a familiar face. Of course there were only two possibilities—Captain Denton and Arthur. And I didn’t see either one. The stands around me began to empty, talk of the buffet dinner on everyone’s lips. I sat nearly alone now, chewing a fingernail.
Then a hand raised in the distance. I stood, eager to see the face. The crowd parted. Sheriff Jeffries’s broad grin met my gaze. I sat back down on the wooden seat. What would he think of me for leaving the children and traveling on my own to Dallas? My head turned this way and that, seeking escape. Then he stood before me and I had no choice but to acknowledge him.
“Imagine meeting you here.” I tapped my foot on the plank beneath my feet.
“Great, isn’t it?” He lifted his face to the sky until his neck stretched long. “Amazing what those boys can do.”
As I nodded, two men in uniform closed th
e distance behind him. Two familiar men. My heart seemed to stand still.
Arthur.
His uniform accentuated his leanness. Had he lost weight since he’d arrived here? Had he been ill and not told me? I searched his face for any signs of weariness, but he looked as hale and hearty as always. I popped up from my seat, my coat and purse filling my hands, my feet stumbling out of the stands until I stood on solid ground.
He stopped just beyond my reach. I wanted to throw myself in his arms, but in spite of all my bold actions of the day, I couldn’t quite forget myself to that extent.
“Rebekah.” Arthur’s eyes didn’t light on mine. His gaze darted to the ground, the sky, beside me, behind me, refusing to land on anything for more than an instant.
I stepped forward. “Arthur, darling.”
Sheriff Jeffries’s mouth hung open. And of course his hat twirled around and around and around in his fingers.
Arthur glanced at Captain Denton.
“Ah. I guess we’d better be going now.” Captain Denton turned to the sheriff. “Let me show you the electric lights that will come on after dark.”
Captain Denton dragged the sheriff away—but not before Sheriff Jeffries gave Arthur a long, hard look. Then we were alone. Or almost alone. A few others still mingled about the grandstands.
He moved closer. “What are you doing here?” His hushed voice sounded accusatory.
“I . . . I . . . ” Those weren’t the words he was supposed to say.
He rolled his eyes and looked away. Grabbing my arm, he led me behind the bleachers, away from the stragglers.
“Darling.” I put my hand up to caress his cheek. “I was worried.” He pulled back as if I’d slapped him.
“Look.” He swiped back the lock of straw-colored hair that tipped over his forehead. “I don’t know how to tell you, so I’ll just say it straight.” He took a deep breath and finally looked me in the eye. “I’m engaged.”
My lips curled. “I know. To me.”
Then I realized he wasn’t talking about me. We weren’t actually engaged. Not yet. My chest refused to draw air.
His hand shook as he lit a cigarette and placed it between his lips. I stared at the bright red tip, the smoke dissipating around us. The eyes that had spoken volumes avoided me now.
“Lily’s a nurse. She was around a lot during the quarantine.” He puffed a few more times, then tossed down his cigarette and ground it into the dirt beneath his feet. “I’m sorry, Rebekah. I never meant to hurt you. I thought you’d forget about me.”
“Forget?” I devoured air now, filling my chest to spew the anger that roiled there like storm clouds in the spring. “How could I forget those days in Downington? How could I forget your promises? And the letters you wrote me? Forget! You told my mother you intended to come back for me. You promised.”
His expression never wavered, almost as if he didn’t remember the conversations I’d recited to myself a hundred times or more.
I took a step back, rage rolling like thunder inside me. “You, you . . .”
I didn’t know any words terrible enough to call him. Humiliation stole over me, burning my face. He didn’t want me. Perhaps he never had. All my hopes for the future lay buried in an instant.
My legs threatened not to hold me upright a moment longer.
“Everything okay here?” Sheriff Jeffries again.
I bit the inside of my cheek, refusing to let my tears flow as I fumbled to don my coat. The sheriff reached around and held it for me.
I looked at a spot in the sky, above and to the right of the sheriff’s head. “If you would direct me to the train, Sheriff Jeffries, I’d like to return to Union Station.”
I assumed he nodded, for he began to walk. I followed him to the gate where I’d entered with Captain Denton, Arthur tagging along behind. We stood together on the platform, the three of us, Arthur’s guilt clear on his boyish face.
It felt like hours before a train screeched to a stop and emptied of its jubilant passengers. I climbed into the railcar, jerking my elbow away from Arthur’s helping hand. The sheriff led me to a seat, but my eyes remained forward as the train gained speed. Just a short ride and I’d be back in Union Station. From there, I could return to Prater’s Junction.
But what I really wanted was home. I wanted Mama to hold me while I cried out my story. But I couldn’t go home. And Mama, still recovering, couldn’t come to me, either.
In spite of feeling so grown up these past few weeks, I suddenly wanted to be a child again. Yet I knew that to be impossible. I’d said I would care for Frank and Clara Gresham’s children. Frank was counting on me to keep my word.
“Rebekah?” The sheriff’s voice, kind but unwanted.
I pressed my lips together, determined not to cry. Not here. Not yet. For I feared that once I started, I’d never stop.
We waited three hours for the train that would carry us back to Prater’s Junction. “Don’t you want something to eat?” Sheriff Jeffries asked.
One glance into his face and I had to look away. Too much pity there. I shook my head. He sighed before his shoes clomped across the floor to find food for himself.
He returned and sat next to me.
“Please, Sheriff. Go on back to the Frolic.” I looked in his direction, but not at him. “I can get back by myself.”
He wiped a handkerchief across his mouth. “I’ve had enough for the day. I’ll see you back home. I don’t mind.”
I opened my mouth to protest again, for Prater’s Junction was not my home. Would never be my home. But what was the use? So we sat in silence, as I reviewed the details of my romance with Arthur over and over again. What had I done wrong? When had I misunderstood his intentions? Nothing in my life had prepared me for this pain of loss.
Yes, Aunt Adabelle’s death had been sudden and shocking, but she’d been ill. Besides, it wasn’t like I hadn’t known anyone who’d died before. I remembered Amy Jones from my first years of school. We’d played together at recess. Her sleek black braids mesmerized me, as did her dancing black eyes, and her laugh that sounded like bits of glass raining down on each other.
Amy’d been swept away in the creek when she went to fetch water. She was nine years old. And there was John, more Will’s friend than mine, kicked in the head by an old mule. And, of course, the boys killed in the war.
Death didn’t surprise me. It didn’t surprise anyone I knew. But I couldn’t comprehend this betrayal. All the men in my life kept their word. Arthur had said he loved me. Hadn’t he? My mind pictured each of the letters in my possession. Well, at least he’d asked me to wait for him. And he signed his letters “with all my love.” Or had that been my closing line?
Anguish rose from my toes, through my legs, my stomach, my chest, like rainwater filling the cistern a few drops at a time. Soon the grief would choke me, and I’d have to let it out. But not yet. Not yet.
The day had drawn to a close when the train let us off at Prater’s Junction.
Sheriff Jeffries touched me gently on the arm. “Let me drive you home, Rebekah.”
I forced myself to look him in the eyes. “I so appreciate your friendship today. I really do. But I need to walk. I need some time alone.”
He nodded with a frown but stepped aside. I swept past him into the dusky haze of twilight. It reminded me of the first evening I’d walked into what I’d thought was my aunt’s house. That night I couldn’t have anticipated the tragedy that awaited me.
Now I had no care if dangers lurked in the shadows. What did it matter if anything happened to me? Arthur was out of reach, flown away to a future where I had no place. He’d done more than kill my dreams of romance and adventure. He’d stranded me here, in a life I had no desire to lead.
Tears stole down my cheeks. I didn’t give in to them, the excess simply overflowed without restraint. I hooked my handbag around my arm and watched the shadow of it swing as the moon played hide-and-seek among the clouds. Nearly two whole dollars of Frank’s money�
�money meant for his family—gone. Spent on a fool’s errand. I figured Daddy would send money if I asked. But how would I explain what I’d done?
And what about Mama? How would she take the news about Arthur? Of course, in her mind, Barney Graves still waited, like those extra ingredients in case the first cake fell flat.
I pulled my coat around me, the day’s warmth having left with the light. The road turned. I looked up, expecting a dark and gloomy house. Instead, light glowed through the parlor window. My stomach clutched. I didn’t want to see anyone now. Maybe I could sleep in the barn, avoid any conversation until morning. As if in answer, a swift breeze rolled out of the north and reminded me that the calendar said November. In spite of my coat, sleeping outside the house wouldn’t be a pleasant experience.
My feet carried me through the gate, up the walk and the porch steps, and around to the back. The heels of my shoes echoed on the planks, but no one met me at the kitchen door. I set my handbag on the table before following the trail of light to the parlor. My steps slowed. I picked up an umbrella from the brass holder in the hall and held it in front of me, its point my protection.
Whoever resided within must have heard my shoes rattling the floor, maybe even my heart beating against my chest. I rounded the corner and stepped into the brightness. Ollie lay on the sofa wrapped in a quilt, her big eyes blinking back at me. I lowered the umbrella.
“What are you doing up? Where’s Nola Jean?” Exasperation, fear, and longing collided, leaving my words harsh and condemning.
She sat up. “Nola Jean wanted to go home after she milked Ol’ Bob. Said she hated walking alone in the dark.”
What had that girl been thinking, leaving four little children alone like that? I’d have some words for her tomorrow.
Ollie scooted off the sofa but didn’t move toward me. “I told her you’d be home soon. Besides, Janie cried most all day long.”
No wonder Nola Jean wanted to leave. I didn’t blame her. I wanted to melt into a puddle on the floor myself. Already I felt more tears spilling over onto my cheeks. I avoided Ollie’s gaze, straightened the lace doily on the small table beside the sofa. “I’m home now, honey. Get on to bed.”