The Way We Are

by Shelly Desjarlais

  The Way We Are

  Shelly Desjarlais

  Special thanks to:

  Kate Studer, my editor, and Dava Desjarlais

  I dedicate this novel to my family for supporting my work and my identity.

  Copyright 2020

  Brooke Michelle Desjarlais

  All rights reserved. No portion of this book and cover can be reproduced without consent from the author and publisher.

  www.shellydwriting.com

  One

  There was fire. Flames crawled up the old wood like roses on a trellis. She said that her love burned with passion, but she didn’t mean it like this. She didn’t believe the day would truly come. They warned her it would.

  1943

  Nebraska

  “Please, don’t do this to me,” Carolyn Jennings begged.

  The sun had barely risen above the flat fields of the farm. Sweat clung to the nape of her tan neck, and the swish of her blond braid did nothing to dry her skin. The heat did not bother her. Life on the farm rarely did. However, it was bothering her now.

  “I’ll make you a deal, all right? I’m a nice woman. So are you,” she began to bargain. “I think that you’d love some breakfast. Would you like that? I’ll give you some real good food if you’ll just get up for five seconds.”

  The hen clucked as if she were mocking the farmer. Carolyn huffed.

  At least three perfect eggs were visible. The hen was refusing to let Carolyn collect them. She didn’t want to handle the hen if she could help it. Picking her up made her feathers fluff, which was hardly a good thing. That hen pecked when she wasn’t happy.

  Carolyn looked back at the rising sun. Time was rushing past her, and she knew she could not be late. Three eggs were not worth the consequences. She figured she had plenty of eggs for the day anyway.

  She picked up the basket in one hand and a pail of milk in the other. The house wasn’t too far from the chicken coop. As she walked towards it, she began to sweat heavily. This was not because of the growing sun or her brisk pace—it was from fear.

  After juggling the basket and pail, she slipped through the backdoor. The screen slammed shut as she hurried through the kitchen. She set the eggs and milk by the front door, and then she darted back to the kitchen. She had to make breakfast quickly. Her heart pounded with the ticking of the clock.

  The biscuits came first. The wet dough was caught in her wedding band, the one that she was never allowed to remove. She would move onto the ham next. The eggs would follow. She hoped that the oven would be hot and the pans scalding. He would be awake in minutes.

  Soon, she felt a faint vibration on the kitchen floor. The stairs shook and squealed beneath powerful steps. She frantically scooped eggs and ham onto a plate. The biscuits had just finished baking. She added a few to the plate and promptly set it on the table. Just as he walked into the room, she had a drinking glass beside his silverware. She held a pitcher of apple juice in her hands.

  Without a word, the man took a seat at the table. She gently poured juice into the glass and began to creep away from the chair. His large hand reached out and snagged her wrist, yanking her closer to him. She winced as her shoulder popped. Those eyes were supposed to be brown, but they were highlighted with red. They could cut to the bone.

  “Aren’t you forgetting something?” his cold voice hissed.

  She looked at the meal before her. Then, her gut flopped. “I’ll go make the coffee right now.”

  “It’ll be too late,” he spat.

  He pushed her away with all his might. She fell harshly against the wall. Helplessly, she watched as the pitcher shattered on the floor. His expression was violent. Her voice was an urgent whisper. “I’ll clean this up as soon as I pack you a good lunch.”

  “Damn right. You best have this here floor clean enough I could eat off it when I’m back.”

  Once he began to eat, she went to the cupboard to retrieve his lunch pail. Her hands would have trembled if this were the first time. Instead, she merely lifted her sleeve for a brief glance at her throbbing arm. Nothing looked broken or felt out of place. There was only a red ring around her wrist. It was clearly the width of his hand. It would soon be purple, she knew. All the other bruises were.

  1943

  Massachusetts

  “Please, don’t do this to me,” Hazel Mayer begged.

  “You’ll be fine, doll. You know that it’s my duty to protect this country. When I get back, we’ll start our life together out there on the farm. It’ll be perfect. How does the uniform look? I feel like it might be too tight in the chest…” Eugene Miller replied.

  Hazel rolled her eyes as the vain boy tugged at his buttons. He must have given the same speech a hundred times since he decided to enlist. His duty, their future, a farm they couldn’t lose—and she had no say in any of it. Even though she secretly quite liked the idea of her fiancé being overseas for hopefully a long time, she hated what he was doing to her.

  “The uniform is fine. Eugene, what am I supposed to do out there alone?” she asked.

  “Practice,” he answered simply.

  “Practice?” she repeated.

  “Being my wife. You’ll have time to learn how to cook and clean and all that.”

  Her blood boiled. She couldn’t believe he would treat her with such disrespect. There was no way that she’d be a quiet and obedient wife. She was known to be a spitfire from time to time, and she was always ready to prove it. Yet, there was one thing that could keep her in line…

  Upstairs, her father rested on a small bed. His illness had taken yet another turn for the worse, and so had their bank accounts. The bills were being paid, but the money certainly didn’t come from the Mayer family. It came from the Miller family in exchange for their son’s engagement to Hazel. There was no other reason for Hazel to wear that ring.

  “Well, I should leave now. I deploy in a few hours. Those boxes over there are what I want you to take. When I get back, we’ll go ahead with the wedding. I’ll write you when I can. Be good, doll,” Eugene told her with a kiss on the cheek.

  She watched the new soldier walk through the door. He’d leave for Europe later that day, and she really didn’t care. Sighing, she stuck her head through the window of her father’s house. Eugene’s car turned onto the main road just as a battered pickup truck came up the driveway. She got to the front door before they could knock.

  “Sally, Orville,” Hazel smiled. “You didn’t bring the girls?”

  “I figured they’d get in the way. Are those the boxes that you want packed? What’re you doing? Bringing the whole house?” Orville joked.

  “Eugene. Half those boxes are from his father’s house. He just dropped them off,” Hazel explained.

  Sally sighed. “We saw him leave. Is he gone as in gone or gone as in be back in an hour?”

  “Gone as in gone,” Hazel answered.

  Hazel wished that he’d find a reason to stay halfway across the world even after the war. Maybe he would find a woman with breasts the size of Christmas hams and legs that went on for days. She pictured that kind of woman, which held her attention longer than it should have.

  “Hazel. Hazel. Little sister,” Sally called to her.

  “Hmm?” Hazel hummed.

  “Where did your mind go?” Sally asked.

  Hazel shrugged it off. “Nowhere important. I’m distracted, given my circumstances.”

  “Are you sure that you want to do it?” Orville asked.

  “When did I ever say that I want to do this?” Hazel swiftly grumbled.

  “I didn’t mean that you did. I just was thinking if you wanted to back out, this would be the time,” he clarified.

  Hazel appreciated how much her brother-in-law cared about her, b
ut he was making things worse by acting like she had a choice. Her parents and Sally made it plain that the family’s fate rested on her shoulders. Thus, she watched passively as Orville began to stack boxes in his truck.

  “We won’t let you be too lonely out there,” Sally promised.

  “You better write me, and you better write me frequently,” Hazel returned.

  “I’ll write you all the time. You’re moving to Kansas, right?” Sally asked.

  “No,” Hazel said. “I’m going to Nebraska.”

  Two

  The farm wasn’t large by any means, but it was diverse. There were cows, bulls, chickens, a horse, and blackberries. When Carolyn wasn’t tending to them by herself, she had a long list of chores to do inside. The housework was all on her as well. That was nothing new. She had been both a farmer and a housewife for years. Once, her husband worked beside her. She lived in constant terror from sunrise to sunset, knowing that his fuse was short. Thankfully, that had changed in the last few years. He landed a job in the factories when the war started. That gave her some breathing room.

  Her days were planned to the minute. On Thursdays, she went into town. She had to gather supplies for the house and farm. When it came to most things, the general store was the place to go. That was partly because there was only one other store in town, which was the farm supply store. They had plenty of merchandise for animals and crops. Not so much for humans.

  The general store was owned by a man named Elmer. The establishment had been in his family for as long as Debarr, Nebraska existed. He was known as an eccentric and kind man who knew everything about anything going on in town. Some patrons spent time in the store to see if he’d share the latest gossip. He was good to remain quiet when it counted.

  Carolyn rarely spoke to anyone in town. Elmer was an exception. He always tipped his straw swimmer hat to her when she came inside. That Thursday was no different.

  “Good morning, Carolyn. Rodger ran those eggs and milk over here right on time. Did he get you the money?” Elmer asked.

  Elmer bought fresh eggs and milk from Carolyn everyday for his store. Rodger, the delivery boy, would give her the payment when he picked up the goods. Carolyn thought that the arrangement was somewhat silly since almost all the money went right back to Elmer. Regardless, they kept their business the same.

  “Yes, Elmer. I got the money. Thank you very much. You got any sugar in?”

  “Sure did. You got your ration book?” Elmer asked.

  “I do. Cigarettes?”

  “Over there,” he pointed. “The little woman made cookies today. Free of charge.”

  Carolyn smirked at that. His wife was always baking something for the store. She made marvelous cornbread, Carolyn had to admit. Her cookies weren’t too bad either.

  After rushing through the aisles, she piled her items on the counter. She had a list in her mind of what she needed from the farm supply store down the road, and she had a list of all the chores that she needed to do. Elmer never went quickly, however. He took his time ringing up her purchase. She watched his long mustache sway as he whistled. Her fingers plucked a cookie from the large plate.

  “Your wife made a lot of cookies,” Carolyn commented.

  “Oh, yeah. Say, do you know that farm that’s been for sale?” Elmer asked.

  “The old Twine place?”

  “Yep. That’s the one. It finally sold, I hear. Just a few days before the bank could go and get it. I don’t think anybody’s lived there for the better part of ten years.”

  “Why’d it take so long?” Carolyn wondered.

  “That fella Hugh Twine moved to the city, but he kept the farm in case he wanted to come back. Well, he passed on two years ago. The farm went to his little sister. She decided to sell. Or so I heard from that banker from out south. The new family is moving in today. I asked the little woman to make me a heap of cookies so I can get some to them. You know, to welcome them to our humble town and all.”

  Carolyn nodded while she counted the money in her handbag. “It’s amazing to hear just how much you know, Elmer.”

  “I’m a good listener, I hear.”

  “You are,” Carolyn agreed.

  As she handed over the money, her sleeve slid up her forearm. The bruise on her wrist had turned purple as she expected. She knew that Elmer saw it before she could sharply pull her sleeve down. Elmer looked into her eyes with too much understanding. Her clothes had shifted before.

  “I am a good listener,” Elmer repeated.

  She knew he was offering her an opportunity to explain the bruises. Naturally, she wouldn’t take it. She thanked him and then bolted to her truck. His face fell when he heard her drive away.

  *-*-*-*

  Roughly fifteen miles away, Hazel’s train came to a stop. Eugene arranged to have a car waiting for her. The men who brought the car offered to help her load the moving boxes. Somewhat timidly, she accepted. Once the men finished, they were kind enough to point her in the right direction.

  Though Hazel was glad to have a form of transportation, the car was even older than she was. It sluggishly moved down the only road to Debarr. Supposedly, the tiny town was home to merely forty people. However, Hazel began to doubt that anybody lived in Nebraska. She passed nothing but fields and barns for minutes on end.

  Eventually, she saw the general store. Relief washed over her. Finally, there were signs of life.

  Deeper into town, Carolyn was paying for hay and feed at the farm supply store. When she prepared to drive home, a thought struck her. She forgot to pick up a jug of apple juice from the general store. Her husband had threatened her with a fork when she didn’t have any juice for him that morning. She had to get it.

  Hazel’s car wheezed as she stopped in the parking lot of Elmer’s store. She needed groceries for the house. Also, her stomach was rumbling. It purred when she saw aisles of food and a plate of cookies at the register. Elmer watched her enter and awkwardly grab a basket. It took mere seconds to figure out that she was from the city. She had to be the new girl in town.

  Carolyn’s truck parked beside Hazel’s car. Before she went into the store, she paused by the car. She hadn’t seen one like that in years, and she hadn’t noticed it before in town. Her shoulders shrugged. She had more important things to worry about than the origin of that car. Her horse was surely going stir-crazy without his morning ride. She didn’t want to keep him waiting.

  Inside, Hazel strolled between shelves. She had never seen such an odd mix of items. Canned food was to her right while folded clothes were to her left. Ahead, she spotted a display of glass jugs. They were filled with various juices. She went to collection, pondering which one tickled her tongue the most.

  Carolyn darted into the modest building at a dizzying rate. There was no need to lollygag since she knew exactly where the juices were. Hazel still hovered beside the assorted jugs. In her haste, Carolyn didn’t notice Hazel, and right when Hazel reached for orange juice, Carolyn collided with her.

  The contents of Hazel’s basket tumbled to the floor. Carolyn managed to save several jugs from falling over. Once the jugs were safely placed back on the display, Carolyn helped Hazel gather some of the items she’d lost. Luckily, nothing was broken.

  “I’m so sorry. I was lost in thought. I didn’t even hear you coming this way,” Hazel apologized.

  “It’s my fault, ma’am. I was in a hurry,” Carolyn replied.

  For the first time, they truly looked at one another. Carolyn had never seen anyone like Hazel. Hazel had the most stunning hazel eyes, which was how she got her name. Her rosy skin seemed to glow in the light, Carolyn mused. Hazel self-consciously adjusted her wavy hair and licked her puffy lips. Carolyn knew that she was staring.

  Carolyn didn’t realize that Hazel was staring at her too. Hazel had never seen a woman look so genuine before. Carolyn’s dress was plain and unpretentious, and the farmer didn’t hide behind expensive makeup. Her stunning blue eyes were honest and gentle. They reached Haz
el in a way she couldn’t explain.

  There was one thing they both did notice—Carolyn was obviously in her late thirties and Hazel was obviously a teenager. In fact, there were eighteen years between them. This bothered Carolyn. It didn’t bother Hazel in the slightest.

  Carolyn felt like a horrid woman when she noticed Hazel’s curves and healthy chest. It was bad enough to let her eyes linger on another woman, Carolyn thought, but it was even worse to look over a young girl. Still, such a thought didn’t keep her mind from straying to forbidden places.

  “I was getting some orange juice,” Hazel explained.

  “Apple juice for me,” Carolyn awkwardly shared. A pause came. That was Carolyn’s cue. She had to get out of there. “Sorry again about bumping into you, ma’am.”

  “That’s all right. Really,” Hazel responded. For some reason, Hazel wanted a few moments more with the intriguing woman. The excuse came. “Pardon me, I was wondering if you could point me in the right direction. I’m looking for milk.”

  “Milk?” Carolyn distractedly repeated. It sounded as if she’d never heard of it.

  Hazel smiled. She decided to have a little fun with the stranger. “Yes. It comes from cows.”

  “Oh. Right. It’s over here,” Carolyn told her.

  She flustered when Hazel walked behind her. In the snug store, they had to be nearly on top of each other. Carolyn wasn’t the only one who was flustered. Hazel had never been so close to a woman, particularly one that had a sculpted figure. They could barely hear over the rush of their veins.

  “Here it is, ma’am,” Carolyn said.

  Hazel picked out a few bottles, frowning at the fact that there wouldn’t be a milkman at her door every morning like in Boston. In the corner of her eye, she saw that Carolyn had bolted to the counter. Hazel had everything she needed, so she promptly joined Carolyn at the register. Carolyn’s shoulders went rigid. She wanted to get as far away from temptation as possible.