by Dean Hughes
“Not really.”
But Alex saw in his eyes that he did. The two brothers looked at each other one more time, and for the first time in his life, Alex saw Gene as a grownup. The two of them were facing the same set of problems, the same realities, and Alex was deeply saddened to think of his little brother walking down the same dark path.
Chapter 12
“But Dad, I’m almost fourteen. All my friends are going.”
“LaRue, you just turned thirteen. And I don’t believe for a minute that your friends are going. You always say that. It’s an M-Men and Gleaners dance, and you’re a Beehive.”
“That doesn’t matter. It’s sponsored by the M-Men and Gleaners. Beehives can go.”
Dad was sitting in his chair, the newspaper folded over his lap and his reading glasses in one hand. LaRue was standing in front of him. “It’s not fair to Beverly,” he said. “She’ll be here with Mom and me tonight—without one thing to do.”
“We don’t do anything anyway. Except listen to the radio until midnight—and then say, ‘Whoopee! Happy New Year.’”
Beverly walked into the room from the kitchen, where she had obviously heard everything. “I don’t care if LaRue goes,” she said. “I don’t want her here anyway.” She continued on through the room, into the parlor, and then up the stairs to her bedroom.
President Thomas waited until he heard the door shut upstairs, and then he said, “LaRue, think about your sister. She’s such a lonely little thing.”
“That’s her fault, not mine. And she’s eleven. She’ll get to go to dances when she’s older.”
Dad let his head fall back against his high chairback. He closed his eyes. “Somehow, sooner or later, I hope you learn to think of someone besides yourself, LaRue.”
“Dad, I have to take Beverly with me to everything. And that’s not fair. Bobbi didn’t take me when I was eleven.”
Gene watched all this from across the room. He was amazed at the way LaRue was holding to her guns. It seemed to Gene that Dad asked a lot of LaRue. She could be self-
centered, but she did look out for Beverly. Gene also remembered too well his own early teen years when Dad seemed to work to keep him from growing up. It was as though Dad knew that his influence would soon slip away, so he held out as long as he could. This last year he had had to adjust as he let his older children take their lives into their own hands, and in some ways he was a different man, but his impulse was still to control his children.
“Bishop Evans’s daughter is going. She told me so. And she’s younger than I am.”
“That’s the bishop’s business.”
“Here’s an idea,” Gene said. Dad and LaRue both looked at Gene as though they were surprised he was still in the room. “How about if I take LaRue as my date?”
“Aren’t you going with Millie?” LaRue said.
“Not really. I’ll see her there, but I didn’t tell her I’d pick her up.”
“So you’ll take LaRue, and look after her, make sure she gets home all right?” Dad asked.
“Sure.” Gene knew he had hit on his dad’s real concern.
LaRue’s eyes widened as she realized that Dad was giving in. She began to smile, but Dad looked up at her and said, “I don’t like this. I think you’re too young, but if you’ll let Gene take you, I’ll let you go.”
“Oh, thank you, Daddy. Thank you.” She leaped toward him, bent, and kissed his cheek, and then she charged Gene, threw herself onto the couch next to him, and hugged him around the neck. “Thank you, Gene!” She looked back at her dad. “If he tries to kiss me good night, I’ll slap his face.”
“Listen,” Dad said, “I want Gene to take you there and bring you home—and look out for you during the dance. We have so darned much trouble these days with boys getting drunk and then showing up at church dances.” He hesitated, and then added, “And you two come straight home. Remember, we have a curfew law now.”
“It’s not fair. It’s only for girls,” LaRue said.
“Well, the police can’t monitor all these young soldiers who are passing through, but they can sure keep our girls away from them.” Gene could tell that Dad didn’t like giving in. He was trying to sound firm. “Now what about Beverly?” he asked. “What can we do so she won’t be miserable all evening?”
Alex’s voice rang from the stairway. “Don’t worry,” he said, and he walked down the stairs. “I asked Bev out on a date. We’re going to the Coon Chicken Inn for dinner, just the two of us. And maybe we’ll go to a picture show.”
“I don’t want her out late—with a lot of drunks around.”
“We’ll start early. And then we’ll come back here. At midnight we’ll go crazy with you and Mom. We’ll throw back the rug and jitterbug, just like you always do.”
“Oh yes, I’m certain,” Dad said, refusing to laugh. “I’m lucky to stay awake that late.” He picked up his newspaper.
It was several hours later when Beverly came downstairs in her Sunday dress—pink with a big satin bow in back—and white patent leather shoes. Alex, who was wearing a suit, stood up and said, “Wow, you’re the prettiest girl I’ve dated in years.”
And she did look pretty. Beverly was not as striking as LaRue. LaRue had dark hair and blue eyes so rich they seemed almost lavender, and enticing dimples that appeared even with the hint of a smile. Beverly was more like Bobbi, with light brown hair and freckles across her nose and cheeks, but she had an innocent, round little face and pale, guileless eyes.
Beverly giggled. “Alex, you never go on dates,” she said.
Dad stood up. “Mother, Gene,” he called out, “could you come in for a minute?”
Mom came in from the kitchen, and Gene, in his blue jeans, walked down the stairs. They both made a fuss over Beverly, and she clearly liked it, although she pretended she didn’t.
“Before you all leave tonight,” Dad said, “I wanted to say something to you.”
“Oh, no, one of Dad’s meetings,” LaRue said, but then she patted his shoulder to show him she was only teasing. She had her hair up in curlers and was wearing a tattered robe. She had spent an hour, it seemed, painting her fingernails dark red—much to her father’s disgust.
Dad shook his head with mock annoyance. “Just sit down for a second,” he said, his tone surprisingly soft. Mom and Alex and Beverly sat together on the couch, and Gene and LaRue found spots on the floor. Dad had been listening to a special New Year’s Eve broadcast by Artie Shaw and his band, but he turned the radio off now. “I’m not going to give a speech, LaRue,” he said. He laced his fingers together. “I just wanted to say that I’m proud of all of you tonight. You boys are doing something very good—very impressive. It hit me just a few minutes ago what fine young men you are.” He looked at each of them and nodded. “You couldn’t ask for nicer girls to date, either.”
“That’s right,” Alex said, and he put his arm around Beverly.
“I was also thinking about this coming year,” Dad said, his voice lowering even more. “It’s hard to say where everyone will be by the time it’s over. Alex, you’ll be leaving in a day or two, and I don’t know when you’ll get home again. I doubt Bobbi or Wally will be with us for quite some time either.”
“I’ll be gone next year,” Gene said, “unless I get a furlough—like Alex got.”
Dad didn’t agree to that, and Gene knew why. He was still clinging to the hope that Gene wouldn’t have to go. “Well, anyway,” he said, “I just thought we might have a prayer, to thank the Lord that we made it through this last, very hard year, and ask that we might make it through this next one all right.”
And so everyone knelt, and Dad did something unexpected. He usually prayed at such times, but tonight he asked Mom to say the prayer. She cried, and she begged the Lord for help for Wally, protection for Alex and Bobbi, and family strength. “Lord,” she said, “we don’t ask that hardships pass us. We only ask thee to strengthen our shoulders, to give us the power to carry the load we are asked
to bear.”
Gene felt his mother’s words penetrate him. He didn’t want to think what the coming year might bring.
***
It was the first Sunday of 1943. Bobbi caught herself glancing toward the back of the chapel as sacrament meeting was about to start. She knew that Richard Hammond wasn’t able to come every Sunday, but he had missed two Sundays in a row during the holidays. Maybe he had gotten leave and gone home. Maybe his ship had put out to sea. But then, it probably didn’t matter either way, because he usually had to hurry off after the meetings. Bobbi still hadn’t gotten to know him very well.
Bobbi glanced back again, and this time Afton said, “Gee whiz, Bobbi, what are you looking for back there? If you’re not careful, you’ll sprain your neck.”
Bobbi laughed. “I was just greeting all my brothers and sisters,” she said. “I’m very friendly, you know.”
“I thought you didn’t like that guy.”
“Guy? I have no idea what you mean.”
“Yeah. Sure. If he doesn’t show up again this week, we’re both going to bawl.”
The bishop’s first counselor had stood up now. “Aloha!” he said to the congregation, and everyone answered back. Bobbi had come to enjoy that beginning—even though it still annoyed her that the services never seemed to start on time. Apparently, she was more her father’s daughter than she’d thought. There were right ways to do things, and starting late and then running way over at the end—because a speaker got carried away—just seemed wrong to her. Bobbi longed to be home now anyway, to go to her own ward one Sunday, to see the snow on the mountains and enjoy the decorations downtown in Salt Lake—all the things she associated with the holidays.
During the opening hymn Bobbi noticed Afton taking a look at the back of the room. Bobbi was about to tease her about it when Afton said, “Guess what? Christmas came late this year. Our package just arrived.”
Bobbi resisted looking back, but she was surprised how pleased she was. And when the meeting was over, she made a point of walking directly to the foyer. To her surprise, Richard seemed to be waiting. “Bobbi, how have you been?” he asked.
“Heck, what about me?” Afton asked. “Aren’t you concerned about my health?”
He smiled. “I was about to ask.”
“Well, I’m fine, and so is Bobbi, but where in the world have you been?”
“Some of the senior officers had leave during the holidays, so the rest of us had to pull double duty. I haven’t been able to get away from the ship.”
“We’re going out for our Sunday-evening walk,” Bobbi said. “Would you like to go with us?”
“Yes. I think I would.”
“It’s a long way. We walk all the way down to the beach and then watch the sun set before we take the bus back to our quarters.”
“I’m off for the evening,” he said. “That sounds nice.”
His response sounded polite more than enthusiastic, but it was Bobbi, again, he looked at. Bobbi soon looked away. She loved those crystal-blue eyes of his, but she didn’t want him to see any interest in her own eyes. She certainly didn’t want him to think that she was as forward as Afton.
As the threesome tried to leave, a Hawaiian sister stopped them. Bobbi knew the woman only as Hazel. Her last name, like so many of the Hawaiian names, was a long line of short syllables that Bobbi struggled to remember. “Bobbi dear,” Hazel said. “Is this your man? He’s fine looking.”
Bobbi laughed, but she was embarrassed. “This is Brother Hammond,” she said. “He’s my friend. And Afton’s.”
Richard nodded.
“So nice to meet you. Why do you sit in back and hide from us?” She reached toward him with open arms, but Richard kept his distance. “I can’t always get here on time,” he said. He shook Hazel’s hand.
“You should marry our Afton. Or Bobbi. One of them. You could make pretty babies.”
Richard actually reddened. “Well, thank you,” he said, and he laughed.
Bobbi was now trying to move away, but Hazel grabbed her. She pulled Bobbi against all her flesh, which was loose and flowing under her flowered muumuu. Bobbi felt herself stiffen, but Hazel didn’t seem to notice. She turned and hugged Afton, too. By then some of the other members had approached. They also wanted to meet Richard, but he was retreating, nodding from a distance, saying, “It’s nice to meet all of you.”
“What a pretty man,” one of the sisters told Bobbi. “Almost like one of our Hawaiian boys.” She was squeezing Bobbi, hanging onto her. “Is he your boyfriend?”
“No. Just a friend.” Bobbi pulled away and kept going this time. “Good-bye,” she said. “We’ll see you next week.”
All the sisters waved. “Aloha,” they said.
The long walk to the beach took the better part of an hour. The three chatted, mostly about home, but Richard actually said little about himself. When they arrived at Waikiki, they sat on a bench and looked out across the ocean. The sun was setting a little earlier this time of year, but otherwise it was hard to remember that it was winter.
“Was it difficult for the two of you to be away for Christmas?” Richard asked.
Afton was sitting in the middle. “Only the hardest thing I’ve ever done in my life,” she said. “I cried half the day and was grouchy the rest of it.”
“I was on duty,” Bobbi said. “But it was quiet at the hospital, and I had a chance to sit down with some of the men who were homesick. It actually turned out to be kind of nice.”
“So are you liking the navy any better?” Richard leaned forward so he could look past Afton to see Bobbi.
Bobbi watched the motion of a tall palm tree, a silhouette against the sunset. There was something almost unnerving about the attentive way he looked at her. “I’ve gotten used to most things,” Bobbi said. “Except for all the mutilated bodies. I’ll never get used to that.”
Richard rested his elbows on his knees. “I know what you mean,” he said. “I don’t think there’s any getting used to war.” There was something softer than usual in his voice. Bobbi even thought she heard an intonation she associated with Utah County.
“Have you been in any battles?” Afton asked.
“Yes.”
“Is it really horrible?”
“Sure.” He waited, and for a moment Bobbi thought he wouldn’t elaborate, but then he said, “In a sea battle, there’s a lot of noise and confusion, and it’s actually quite exciting. But when it’s over, it hits you that you’re sitting on this tin can—out in the middle of the ocean. You realize how easily you could have gone down.” He paused, and then he added, in an even softer voice, “After a battle, most of the men try to act like they haven’t been affected. But I’ve seen some big ol’ galoots go to their bunks, lie down, and start to cry.”
“We see that kind of thing too,” Bobbi said. “Once a patient wakes up from the morphine, he has to accept what he’s experienced. Some boys won’t talk at all.”
“They’ll just sit and stare for hours and hours,” Afton added.
Richard looked out at the ocean, where the waves were ablaze with the red and orange of the sunset. “One time,” he said, “we sank a Japanese troop transport. It was loaded with soldiers heading for an island we had been bombarding. That night, I walked out to the aft of the ship. As the prop turns, it creates a phosphorescent glow in the water, and you can see deep into the ocean. I looked out over the waves, and I saw these lumps, so I walked closer to the rail to see what they were. Then I realized the lumps were Japanese soldiers.”
“How awful,” Afton said.
“There were dozens of them. Some were on the surface, and some down under, just hanging in the water. I’d spent the whole day hating Japs—happy to see them die. And then there they were. It was like I was looking into my own subconscious, seeing things I already wanted to forget—and knowing I never would.”
Bobbi and Afton didn’t speak. Bobbi was stunned by Richard’s quiet, matter-of-fact tone—but also by the pain
lurking behind it.
“All I could think was, ‘I killed those guys.’ When you sink an enemy ship, you feel this tremendous elation, like you’ve taken another man’s piece in a chess match. But when I saw those men, I knew what I had done.”
“You can’t blame it on yourself,” Afton said.
“Right then, it seemed like I should.”
“Don’t you wish you didn’t have to go back out to sea?” Bobbi asked.
“Someone has to go,” Richard said, and he sat up straight. “Those are probably not things I ought to talk about.” Then, without seeming to feel that he had changed the subject, he asked, “Bobbi, didn’t you tell me you were an English major before you went into nursing?”
“Yes.”
“We have a little library on our ship. For the first time in my life, I’ve started reading novels. But most of them are nonsense—just a waste of time. I’d like to read some good books. What should I read?”
Bobbi was caught off guard. “It depends. What do you want from a book?”
Richard turned and leaned back against the bench. “I don’t know,” he said. “I majored in engineering, and—”
Afton began to laugh, and Richard stopped. “I’m sorry,” Afton said, “but that’s what Bobbi told me—that you were probably an engineering major.”
“And I suppose that was the worst thing she could think to say about a person?”
Bobbi felt herself blush all the way to her throat. “Not at all,” she said, before Afton could respond. “I just remembered that most of the boys in ROTC majored in engineering.”
Richard leaned forward again, and that beautiful smile of his appeared, those white teeth. “But you didn’t socialize with that set, did you?”
Bobbi was dead in the water. There was no right answer. She really hadn’t been friends with many engineering majors. But his accusation was wrong. “I wasn’t part of any set,” she said.
He was still smiling. “Just tell me this. What should I read?”
“And I repeat my question. What are you looking for in a book?”