by Linda Ellen
“This band is so good,” Gene spoke softly near her ear after a few bars of outstandingly smooth clarinet. “You can bet they’re going places.”
“Yes. They can play anything,” Vivian mumbled, her eyes closed. For the first time all evening, she was thoroughly enjoying a dance.
“Did you get in much trouble last week?” Gene finally broached the subject he’d been agonizing over since the last glimpse he’d had of her the previous Saturday night.
She shook her head against his cheek. “Not too much. Miss Warren balled me out and gave me a warning…but my friend also warned that we should be on our best behavior…”
Gene nodded. “I get it. Hands off after this dance, right? Grrr,” he playfully growled.
Vivian giggled. “I’ll be feeling the same way when I see you cutting a rug with another girl.”
“Nah. I’ll probably just hang around…but hey, think we could sneak one more in a little later?”
“I think that can be arranged,” she smiled dreamily against his smooth, freshly shaved face and breathed in the wonderful scent of his already familiar aftershave. They spent the rest of the song dancing quietly, each one thoroughly engrossed in the feeling of being in the other’s arms.
Too soon, the song ended and they had to part ways.
In his peripheral vision, Gene spied Warden Warren glaring their way, so he leaned in and whispered in Vivian’s ear, “Until later, baby.”
“Count on it,” she quipped back as he released her. She turned and smiled up into Pvt. Makowski’s handsome face.
“I’ll take over from here, Sarge,” Mack teased as the trumpets began blaring out the notes of Artie Shaw’s St. Louis Blues.
Vivian gazed longingly at Gene as Mack swung her away.
Later seemed like a lifetime away.
A few songs later, Gene settled against the wall with an ice-cold Dr. Pepper and just watched the action. He figured he could have gotten another girl to dance, but in truth, he just didn’t want to. Now that he’d met Vivian, he didn’t want to hold another girl in his arms. No other girl even held a candle to her. She drew him like a bear to a bowl of honey.
As he sipped his drink, he watched her with some unknown marine. She looked breathtaking in her pretty pink and white flowered dress. The white collar around the squared neck, and the two white-trimmed pockets on the front of the skirt set off the design perfectly, and somehow fit her personality – sweet and innocent with a touch of spice. When he had first walked up to her, he had noticed the dress and he wondered if it were new. Something told him it was. She’d looked adorable in the green one, but this one was even prettier in his opinion. The color looked gorgeous on her. But then, I bet she’s one of those girls that would look good in a flour sack.
Now, she was smiling politely, and dancing marvelously as the “Gyrene” twirled and swished her around, making the A-line skirt of her dress flare becomingly.
After a while, her dance partner maneuvered her out of Gene’s view, and he turned his attention to perusing the crowd. Spotting Corporal Alvin Fisher, his supply clerk, among the watchers, Gene raised his glass to him and the man wound his way through the sideline to Gene’s side.
“Hey Sarge.”
“What’s doin’, Fisher. You enjoying yourself?”
“Yeah, I danced the last one, but got beat out for this one, so I’m waiting,” he laughed. “How about you? You dance with her yet?”
Gene cast a sharp glance at the corporal, but didn’t see anything nefarious in his manner, so he relaxed a bit and grinned at him. “Matter of fact, I did.”
“That her there in the pink dress, dancing with that Gyrene?”
“Yep.”
The corporal took the hint that his sergeant wasn’t going to engage in idle talk about the girl the whole unit had heard he had gone instantly bonkers over, so the younger man wisely shrugged and changed the subject.
“Been thinking about those injectors.”
“Me, too,” Gene mumbled, looking at his companion, who was in charge of supplies, parts, and tools for his unit.
The other man met his eye and gave a nod. “I’d like to get my hands on the jerk that switched ’em out. Whatdya think? Is it like, somebody doing sabotage, or…think it could be somebody with some kind of racket going on? Could he…could he be sellin’ army stuff on the black market or something?”
“That’s what I’m thinking. That whole box was the same way – used, clogged injectors that had been wiped off and packaged as new. Somebody went to a lot of trouble.”
“Yeah…but who?”
Gene drew in a deep breath and let it out in a frustrated huff. “Your guess is as good as mine, Fisher. But I know one thing.”
“What’s that, Sarge?”
“When I find out who’s doing this, he’s gonna wish to high heaven that he had decided to stay on the right side of the law.”
CHAPTER 7
Gene was right there at Vivian’s elbow when the band put down their instruments for a break.
She thanked her partner before turning and smiling up at Gene, her face beautifully flushed from dancing five fast numbers in a row with a variety of talented partners. The last one, a short, stocky member of the local coast guard, wearing the traditional dark blue uniform with white stripes on the collar and a dark blue cap, had just about danced her feet off; in addition, he had swung her out and back so many times she was nearly dizzy.
“Whew! I was never so glad to hear anyone say, ‘Let’s take ten’ as I was just now,” she gushed, panting as she tried to catch her breath.
Gene chuckled as he took her arm and began to escort her off the floor. “You know, I never realized being a junior hostess to a bunch of lonely, attention-starved GIs was such a hard job.”
She glanced up at him and saw the teasing twinkle in his gorgeous eyes. Managing to keep her wits about her, she quipped back, “You just try it, Sergeant, while wearing high heels, struggling with stockings whose seams insist on going crooked, and striving to keep your makeup from smearing and your hair from wilting.” Realizing she had just told him some quite personal details, she looked away and felt her face heating up even more than it already was.
Gene laughed out loud at her candor and dipped his head in surrender. “I give. I certainly would not wish to go through all of that…with all of that,” he chuckled.
“Oh, you,” she chided, aiming a half-hearted soft slap at his head, which he skillfully ducked.
“How about we just grab some quenchers and find a corner somewhere…somewhere decidedly not private,” he specified.
“Sounds wonderful.”
After getting her an ice-cold cherry soda, and another Dr. Pepper for himself, Gene steered them to the far corner of the refreshment room where they found one lone bench not even big enough for two. Gene, of course, urged her to sit, while he braced a foot against one end and leaned over her with his back to the room so they could have a modicum of privacy.
Vivian took a long drink with her eyes shut, allowing the bubbles to navigate their way down through her core and revitalize a bit of her weariness. Then, she leaned back against the wall and gazed up at him, her eyes doing a bit of navigating themselves as they traveled over him from his cap down to his shiny black service shoes.
“You wear a uniform well, Sergeant Banks,” she complimented. “Spit-shined and perfectly creased.”
He inclined his head with a jovial smile. “Thank you, ma’am.”
Then with a wolfish grin, he wiggled his eyebrows. “And may I say, that pink dress is quite becoming on you. I like it even better than the green polka dot one from last week. Makes you…kind of glow.”
Vivian smiled and dipped her head in gratitude; quite pleased he had noticed the new dress that she had purchased at Lerner’s that week, in direct hopes that he would like her in it. It also pleased her that he distinctly remembered what she had worn the week before. That knowledge made another round of tingles fissure through.
&nbs
p; For a few minutes, they talked about the weather and the upcoming Derby, which neither planned to attend. Then, gathering her courage, Vivian said, “Sergeant. May I ask…do you go to church?”
Gene dropped his foot to the floor and stood up straight, a bit taken off guard by her question, since he hadn’t been thinking in that direction. He cleared his throat and reached up to fiddle with a tie that wasn’t in need of adjustment. “Well, I used to. I’m afraid I got out of the habit. Actually…I haven’t been to church since I arrived at Knox. Well, that’s not quite true – I’ve visited the chapel out there a time or two after Pearl, but…” he shrugged to a stop.
Vivian watched him, trying to discern his thoughts on the subject. Finally, she said, “Well, I only asked because I wondered if…if you would like to join me and my family tomorrow. But, if you’d rather not…”
“Oh no, I mean…yes, I think I’d like that. Where do you go to church?”
“Little Flock Community Church,” she answered, and provided the address. He promised he would make it a point to come, as he had planned to stay over at the club anyway and had already reserved a bunk.
“Your parents will be there…right?” he asked, suddenly a bit nervous to actually meet her father. He wondered what, if anything, she had told her parents about her first night as a USO hostess.
“Yes…is that a problem?”
He looked into those honey brown eyes that already had the power to render him as helpless as a paratrooper without a chute, and he shook his head. He suddenly realized he would willingly submit to anything for the chance to spend time with Miss Vivian Powell.
“No ma’am. I look forward to meeting them.”
Her smile warmed him right down to his toes, and he was already wishing he could remove his jacket again as he’d done the week before. From now on, I’m leaving this dad-blamed jacket at the base.
As Vivian opened her mouth to say something else, they both heard the band striking up a fresh song.
Vivian laughed and resolutely stood up on her aching feet, which were blessedly feeling better after their brief respite.
“No rest for the weary!” she joked as she took his arm and allowed him to escort her back into the ballroom. They strolled past Miss Warren, and the woman gave them a nod of approval.
Gene took Vivian’s empty soda glass from her hand and placed it on a table as they passed by, and then when they hit the floor, he swept her into his arms.
“I believe you stated earlier that I could have seconds.”
She couldn’t help but laugh with joy at his silly grin. “I believe I did.”
This time, they shimmied and spun to a rousing version of the crazy tune Slap That Bass. Both of them began to laugh and chortle so much at the silly words and the snappy tune that they were missing connections and looking the fool. Couples dancing nearby chuckled at their antics.
By the time it ended, they were both winded and fell into one another’s arms, both having the time of their lives.
If each one hadn’t thought they were smitten before – they certainly would now.
Gene cleared his throat and unconsciously reached up to tug at his tie as he sat next to Vivian in church the next morning. She looked warmly over at him and sent him a tiny smile.
He returned it, and then put forth a valiant effort to pay attention to the pastor’s sermon. It wasn’t that the man was a boring speaker, or that the topic wasn’t relative or interesting. On the contrary, Pastor Rodgers was the kind of preacher that proved points in Scripture by using stories from his personal life that were quite entertaining, and had just the right amounts of humor or suspense. It was just that sitting that close to Vivian was wreaking havoc with his concentration. Get hold of yourself soldier! You’re acting like a love-struck teenager. Straighten up!
His fingers toyed with the edges of his cap as it rested on one leg. Inevitably, his gaze strayed back her way again as he became acutely aware of her hand moving down to tug at the hem of her slightly tight skirt as it rode just above her knees. He swallowed and looked away, feeling positively wicked that he should be picturing her legs as he sat in church of all places!
Another twenty minutes went by, during which Gene was able to follow the pastor’s points and gain some fodder for contemplation. Then, the invitation was given, the last song – Just as I Am – was sung, and the congregation was dismissed with a prayer.
Gene stood and placed his cap under his arm, extending a hand to help Vivian stand.
“Well, young man. Did you enjoy the service?” asked Vivian’s mother, Barbara, with a smile as she fiddled with her purse.
“Yes, ma’am, I did,” Gene truthfully answered as he smiled at the woman, whom he guessed to be in her late forties. Still attractive, her hair was the color of Vivian’s, with just a touch of gray at the temples, but she had hazel eyes – he had noticed right away that Vivian had inherited her father’s honey brown eyes. Mrs. Powell was a sweet woman, quiet and demure. She was dressed in a fashionable, but several years old, dress of peach colored crochet over a cream lining. The outfit was trimmed in black and on her head she wore a smallish black felt hat trimmed with a peach ribbon.
“I appreciated the invitation,” Gene glanced at Vivian with a smile. “I’m afraid I’ve been a bit remiss in my church-going for much too long. This was a good refresher.”
Barbara looked delightedly up at him, obviously pleased with his response. Vivian’s father, George, a large man with dark hair and black-rimmed glasses and wearing a gray suit, had stood also, but remained silent. He hadn’t said much since he had been introduced to Gene on the porch outside when they had first arrived, and Gene wondered once again if he knew about the kiss.
Barbara glanced at her husband and received his slight nod, and then extended a hand to Gene. “My husband and I…and I’m sure our daughter…would be pleased if you would join us for Sunday dinner, Sergeant Banks. Would you do us the honor? We’re having chicken and dumplings,” she added with a twinkle in her eye.
“Thank you, ma’am. I’d be delighted. Chicken and dumplings are a favorite of mine,” he replied with absolute veracity.
They moved out into the aisle and began to stroll toward the door, pausing to shake hands with Pastor Rodgers and share a bit of small talk before continuing on down the outer steps.
Gene placed his cap on his head as Mrs. Powell looked around and remarked, “Did you drive, Sergeant Banks?”
“No ma’am, I hitched a ride.”
“Ah well, then, you can ride to the house with us. Come along,” Barbara ordered sweetly as she took her husband’s arm and allowed him to escort her to the car.
Gene peeked at Vivian from under the bill of his cap and grinned. I know she signed an agreement not to date the soldiers she meets at the club, and I hope she doesn’t get in trouble, but…
Extending his elbow, she took it with a sparkling smile. His heart flip-flopped in his chest. Together the four strolled across the parking lot.
“Ma’am, that was the best meal I’ve had in years,” Gene declared several hours later as the four of them sat around the dining table. He leaned back in his chair, both hands rubbing his overly full belly.
“Oh, it was nothing, Sergeant. Just something I threw together at the last minute,” Vivian’s mother demurred, one hand touching the back of her hair, which wasn’t in need of smoothing. “But, thank you.”
Vivian lowered her head to wipe her mouth with a napkin, hiding her smile. She had barely stopped a bark of laughter at her mother’s remark, since she had been a witness to the woman scurrying around the kitchen as she prepared the meal, mumbling phrases like, “Oh, I do hope the sergeant likes my spices,” and, “Oh, I wonder if the sergeant prefers rolled dumplings better than drop…”
Vivian had floated between helping her mother in the kitchen and hovering in the living room with her father and Gene. From what she could tell, the two men were enjoying a friendly conversation. Each time she had stuck her head in, they
had been chatting about various things like her father’s job as a machinist for the Louisville & Nashville Railroad, the aggravation of dealing with so many items being rationed for the war, the merits of different car models, or Gene’s job at the base. On her last eavesdrop; they were somberly talking together about the losses our military had suffered at Pearl Harbor.
Now, wishing to have some time alone with “her” sergeant, Vivian pushed back her chair and laid her napkin beside her plate.
“Mother, is it all right with you if Gene and I go for a walk? I could use some exercise after that meal. But…if you need me to help clean up…”
“No, no, you two go on,” her mother immediately encouraged, punctuating the statement with a few flicks of her napkin in the general direction of the dining room doorway.
Gene rose and thanked his hosts again, before moving to follow Vivian as she made her exit. Soon, they were outside in the bright sunshine, strolling along side by side down the paved road with houses on one side and acres of empty land on the other. The weather was perfect. Gene had removed his jacket and hat well before they ate their meal, leaving them both on a chair in the living room.
The sergeant cleared his throat and shoved his hands in his pants’ pockets. “I appreciate your mother inviting me for dinner. She’s a great cook.” He shot a look her way as if realizing what he’d just said. “I mean…that is…unless you helped. I mean…I’m sure you’re a good cook, too,” he stumbled to a halt and clamped his lips.
Vivian sent him a side glance and then erupted in laughter. “I did help, what she would let me, that is. Despite her words to the contrary, she worked very hard to impress you with her cooking prowess.”
He tipped his head back and laughed. “I see.”
She grinned at his laughter and stopped to lean over and pick a spring wild flower from the side of the road. Twirling it in her fingers, she resumed walking as she assured, “I’m a pretty good cook, too, although she usually doesn’t let me have the run of her kitchen. So, I can’t say I’m as proficient as Mom yet, but…”