by Linda Ellen
“It just takes experience and practice, like anything else. I’m sure someday you’ll set a fine table for your husband and family.” After that statement, Gene’s eyes widened and he sent her a quick look, which she caught from the corner of her eye, but she merely nodded acquiescence and kept strolling. She wondered if his words had conjured images in his mind of them with their children sitting down to dinner in their own home, as they had in hers.
After a few moments, Vivian slipped her hand in the crook of his elbow and ventured, “So…how was your week?”
He smiled down at her. “Would it make sense to say…it went by like a snail and yet a racehorse at the same time?”
She softly giggled and gave a quick nod as she thought of her own week, alternately wishing it would hurry by so that Saturday night would arrive, but also dreading it in case it didn’t turn out the way she hoped. “I know exactly what you mean.”
Pursing his lips, he said, “Do you remember Rooster? I mean Private Deal, the one with the bright red hair and the cowlick?”
She did, indeed. “The one who did that side-by-side dance with the private who resembles Tyrone Power? What’s that one’s name…Mack?”
He nodded, not surprised that she would refer to Mack’s resemblance to the celebrity. Almost everyone did. “Yep. Well, Rooster broke his leg Friday. It’s pretty bad.”
Vivian gasped and turned her head to meet his eyes.
“The docs operated on him and he’s in traction at the post hospital. I think he’s a bit worried…” he paused, sympathy clear in his eyes.
“Well, modern medicine has come a long way. I’m sure, with time and exercise, he’ll be all right. Look at me,” she smiled and patted her left leg. He sent her a confused look and she explained, “I broke my leg in three places when I was fifteen, but it healed just fine.” Waiting a moment, she added with a mischievous grin, “Why, I can even keep up with the likes of Sergeant Eugene Banks on the dance floor.”
Gene chuckled and laid a hand over her own on his arm, caressing it fondly. “Yes, ma’am, you surely can.”
The day and their camaraderie felt so wonderful. Vivian realized she hadn’t been so completely at ease with a man in…well, ever. She sighed contentedly and laid her head against his shoulder as they continued to stroll, thinking Sgt. Gene Banks was about as perfect as a man could get.
“What else happened this week?” she asked, just to keep the conversation going. Already, she loved to hear Gene’s voice, no matter what he was saying. The timbre of it always drifted into her ears and filtered down inside her body like honey on a piece of warm toast. Such a nice, masculine voice, she sighed silently as she listened to him talk about a torrential rain dissolving some earthen mounds, and then about a fistfight between two of his men – and how one of them knocked one of his teeth loose!
“Oh my! Let me see!” she gushed, stopping and turning to him as he obligingly grinned widely at her, pointing to the offended incisor.
“It’s fine now. The post dentist did a great job,” he assured, choosing not to tell her what a painful ordeal it had been.
“I did get some bad news, though,” he admitted softly.
She tilted her head up at him and watched as he clamped his lips together for a moment. “I found out my best friend from high school was killed…”
Viv gasped in sympathy and touched his arm. “Oh Gene!”
He nodded solemnly. “His name was Russ…Russ Calhoun. He’d gone into the Navy early in’41, and was sent to Pearl.” He stopped a moment with a sad sort of smirk and shook his head in self-disdain. “I remember teasing him that I was jealous that he got to go to Hawaii…all play and no work – nothing but Hula girls and fun times… So, he sent me a package with a dancing Hula doll and a picture of him on the beach with his arms around two beautiful girls in grass skirts with long lovely black hair. At the bottom, he’d written – to Gene – eat your heart out Army boy.” He took a deep breath and blew it out slowly. “He’d been injured during the attack on Pearl Harbor. The docs had patched him up, but…he got an infection, and…” he swallowed hard, giving a little shrug.
“I’m so sorry, Gene,” Viv murmured, peering up at him as they stood in the bright sunshine together. “Matter of fact, we received some bad news this week, too,” she admitted softly. “My cousin, Bill…my Dad’s brother’s son…they used to live next door and we’d been inseparable until they moved to Illinois when we were both twelve. He was the brother I wished I’d had… He joined the Marines in January, immediately after hearing about the attack on Pearl, and had been sent to Camp Pendleton. He was killed in an accident this week. He was in a jeep…he wasn’t driving…it flipped over…” she stopped, her eyes misty.
“Aw honey,” Gene whispered. Sometimes, the war seemed far away and almost unreal – but it had a way of making itself very real when news of casualties reached the ears of loved ones and friends. He drew her into his arms for a moment and they stood together, each remembering good times with their fallen loved ones and lending heartfelt support to each other.
Finally, they pulled back and stared into one another’s eyes, as their shared grief added another layer to their burgeoning feelings for each other.
By mutual silent agreement, they resumed their walk; he with his hands in his pockets, and she with her hands gently gripping his arm. At her prompting, he told her a few more incidents about his week, but stopped short in his explanation of the injector problem.
Vivian looked up at him, wondering why he stopped. “Did you find out what the problem was?” she asked, a bit concerned that his expression had hardened – just a bit, but enough for her to notice.
“Yes and no,” he replied, and she pondered why he was suddenly being so vague.
“Yes and no?” she encouraged.
Gene shook his head slightly, as if reminding himself of something, and then cast a glance around at their surroundings.
“So, how long have you and your parents lived here? I mean, did you grow up in that house?” he asked, inclining his head back toward her home and effectively changing the subject.
Something about that set off alarm bells inside her head. What was he keeping from her?
Politely, she explained that she and her parents had moved into the house when she was ten, and then talked a bit about where they had lived before and things about the neighborhood.
After a while, the odd feeling of him withholding something from her went away and gradually they moved back into their normal give and take.
Vivian had no idea, however, that it wouldn’t be too long until the suspicion of Gene keeping secrets would come roaring back with a vengeance.
CHAPTER 8
Another week crept by for the smitten couple. Gene spent it performing his duties and avoiding run-ins with his decidedly unpleasant roommate. On Wednesday when yet another truck developed injector trouble, and the base supply warehouse was still out of replacements, the captain issued the command that an emergency run be made into Louisville to pick some up.
It had been some time since Gene had run an errand, matter of fact he hadn’t since he had received his sergeant stripes, but he didn’t really mind. All of the privates and corporals under him in the unit were busy with repairs and other duties that were of a timely nature. Rooster had been his gopher, so to speak, but with him still laid up in the hospital, the errand had fallen to Gene.
Now taking his hat off as he entered the captain’s office later in the day, Gene acknowledged Cpl. Dan in the outer room with a nod and then turned to see the captain motion him inside.
“Did you get them, Sergeant?” Captain Moore asked as Gene moved through the doorway and saluted.
“Yes, sir. No problems. They said they would send the bill to the procurement office.”
“That’s fine,” the captain replied. Observing his sergeant, he gestured for Gene to shut the door. Gene complied and took a seat in the chair the captain indicated.
“What do you make of th
is, Sergeant? Any ideas? Any leads?”
“No, sir. It was done on purpose, that’s for sure. The problem is, we can’t know for sure when, since it’s been weeks since we’ve had to replace any injectors. There are any number of people who would have access to the supply room.”
“Have you noticed any keys missing?”
Gene thought a moment. “No sir.”
“For now, keep an eye out for anything suspicious. I’ve alerted the MP’s and they are adding extra patrols in the area after lights out. I have a suspicion that you have stumbled onto something that could be the tip of the iceberg. If you see or hear anything, inform me immediately. That’s all, Sergeant.”
Gene rose to his feet and saluted, “Yes, sir.” The captain returned the salute and went back to his paperwork as Gene went to the door.
“Oh, and Sergeant?”
Gene pivoted on his heel and faced his superior again. “Yes, sir?”
“Keep this under wraps for now. Tell no one who doesn’t absolutely need to know – ‘Loose lips’, ‘The Walls Have Ears’, etc. That’s an order.”
“Yes, sir.”
The captain returned Gene’s second salute and resumed his work as Gene turned to leave the office.
The more Gene thought about this mystery, the more it rankled him. With a scowl, he changed direction and headed off to chat with a few of the other motor sergeants and see if anything else was afoot – without letting any of them know what he was up to.
The following Friday afternoon, Vivian counted out her cash drawer and finished her day, anxious to get on with her evening. When she and Gene had parted on Sunday night after the final dance – which she had danced with Mack – they had arranged to go to dinner and catch a movie. She could hardly wait to see him.
“I hope you have a good time with your sergeant tonight, honey,” Mary June offered as she gave her own makeup a final going over in the employee’s restroom at the bank in preparation for the bus ride home.
Vivian grinned at her over her shoulder as she wiggled into the dress Mary June had leant her for the evening. “I plan on it. Do me up?”
Obliging, she stepped close. Finding she was unable to resist needling her friend a bit, she asked, “What’re you going to do if Miss Warren finds out you and Gene are going out – and he came to church with you?”
Viv glanced at her over her shoulder as her teeth caught her bottom lip. “I know…it’s not like me to break rules like this, but…oh Mary, I can’t help it!” With a tiny sigh, she added, “I’m going to keep my agreement to attend the dances and dance with any soldier who asks. Gene understands. But, if we get caught and Miss Warren dismisses me from being a hostess, well…” she shrugged one shoulder, “he’s worth it.”
With a thoughtful expression on her face, the other girl fastened the buttons at the back of the dress. Then, the girls worked together to arrange Vivian’s hair, pulling back one side with a lovely comb in the shape of a butterfly embellished with crystals. The rest of her hair cascaded around her shoulders in perfect honey-blonde waves.
When they finished and stared at the mirror, both girls were smiling from ear to ear at the result.
Mary June let out a slow whistle. “Whew! Honey, you’re gonna knock that man’s stripes right off his uniform!”
Vivian giggled as she fiddled with the skirt, murmuring self-consciously, “My goodness, I’ve never worn anything so…provocative before.” The short-sleeved dress hugged her figure perfectly and was quite becoming. The smooth material had a pattern of large flowers in various shades of pink, it sported a square open neck and cinched waist. The effect finished off with a sash of the same fabric that hung fetchingly at Vivian’s hip and ended halfway down the length of the pencil skirt. She had paired it with white open-toed pumps.
Her friend chuckled and hovered around her, tugging and smoothing. “Aw, it’s not that bad. It fits you better than it fit me,” she added with a snicker.
“Thanks, honey. I appreciate you lending it to me. Okay, well…I guess I’m as ready as I’m going to get!” Once more Vivian leaned close to the mirror to blot her lipstick and then picked up her purse and sweater, along with a bag containing her work dress and shoes. “I just need to stash this in my desk.”
Mary June consulted her wristwatch and gave a soft shriek. “Jiminy Cricket, the bus!”
Vivian laughed as her friend gave her a quick hug, flashed two thumbs up, and disappeared out the restroom door with a hollered, “See you tomorrow night – don’t take any wooden nickels – and don’t kiss any wooden sergeants!”
Gene checked his watch for the third time and eyed a bus passing the ’39 Buick Century convertible in which he sat. He had borrowed the car for their date from another sergeant who owed him a favor. It was a sharp looking car, wine colored with a tan top and matching interior.
Reaching out a hand to run it appreciatively over the smooth upholstery, he mused that he was thankful his friend had been so accommodating, as he hadn’t relished trying to take Viv out to dinner and a movie if they were going to have to walk everywhere, catch a bus – if they could even time that right – or pay for a taxi.
I’d like to buy a car this nice some day. He had never owned his own car, having not needed one at the CCC camps, nor since he had joined the army. If he needed to get around, he’d usually use a jeep. But now… Maybe I can start putting some lettuce away for one every payday, once I make First Sarge…that is IF I make it, he reminded himself. If I don’t find out who the creep is that tampered with my supplies…
For a moment, his euphoria at being able to take Viv out on a real date, in a swell car, and have her all to himself for the evening, dimmed a bit as he thought about the still-nagging question of the switched diesel parts. He’d been investigating and surreptitiously interviewing some of the other sergeants throughout the base, and had found out that each one had faced the same or a similar issue over the past two months. But – no one had seen or heard anything out of the ordinary.
Gene shook his head in frustration. It beats the heck outta me. But if I get my hands on that lousy no good son of a—
Just then, the door of the bank opened and a familiar woman sprinted to the bus stop, barely making it in time before the driver closed the door. If he wasn’t mistaken, the woman was Vivian’s friend, Mary June…
He watched as the bus started up again and moved into traffic. Horns blared and people sidestepped one another as they traversed the sidewalks of Fifth and Market, hurrying home on a Friday evening.
A minute later, the bank’s glass door opened again and Gene’s breath caught in his throat as Vivian stepped out, wearing a gorgeous pink flowered dress. It hugged her curves in all the right places. WOW! Would you look at that! Momentarily struck dumb, his mouth went dry and his heart kicked into overdrive.
Vivian moved to one side of the door to allow a man to exit, nodding to him as he apparently wished her a good evening. She looked around then, scanning the area with a white clutch-type purse shielding her eyes against the afternoon sun.
Gene physically shook himself out of his stupor and moved to open his door to get out. A loud horn blasted as the large front end of a late model Dodge zoomed past. His heart nearly stopped as his head whipped to the left. He yanked the door shut and let the car go by, and then slid out quickly and made his way around the front, waving to Vivian.
His heart was still hammering from the near collision, and now her smile of welcome nearly bowled him over. Holy mackerel, she’s gorgeous. He hurried over and took her hand as he reached her side.
“Hey beautiful,” he greeted, his voice husky as his heart still pounded in his chest.
Her face pinkened with a lovely blush. “Hello handsome.”
He allowed his eyes to caress the vision that was Vivian, from the top of her hair, to her beautiful face, arresting eyes, and those gorgeous lips, all the way down that amazing dress and to her cute little feet in a pair of white shoes.
“Mmm, don’t yo
u look gorgeous,” he murmured, his eyes sparkling approval.
“You like?” she grinned.
He nodded and pulled her a bit closer, trying valiantly not to grab her and kiss her senseless. “I like.”
She pursed her lips for a second and then raised one eyebrow fetchingly. “Mission accomplished, then.”
He chuckled at her candor, and lifted his hand to caress her cheek with the backs of his fingers. Just above a whisper, he admitted, “I thought tonight would never get here. ’Bout lost my mind waiting.”
Those delightful honeyed eyes of hers twinkled in the sunlight. “Same here.” They stood like that, motionless, until someone cleared their throat and mumbled, “Pardon me” as they made their way around the couple.
Gene forced himself back to the business at hand. Sweeping an arm toward the car, he announced, “Madam, your chariot awaits.” Her laughter tinkled merrily as they started over.
“My goodness, this is some chariot. I approve,” she purred as they reached the passenger door.
Belatedly, he thought about his decision to put the top down and he hesitated. She met his eyes. “I can put the top up if you’d prefer…”
“Oh no, don’t. I love convertibles. Don’t put it up on my account.” She viewed the automobile with admiration, caressing the shiny paint on the fender. “It sure is…what’s that term they say now? …On the beam.”
Gene totally agreed with her assessment that the car was A-one. “It belongs to a pal who owed me a favor.”
“That’s the kind of pals to have,” she teased with a cute grin.
He opened the passenger door and Vivian sat down and gracefully swung her legs inside.
Gene swallowed hard and closed the door, blocking the lovely view of a set of swell gams.
“And now I owe him one,” he said quietly to himself as he made his way around to the driver’s side door and quickly slid inside, eager to get their date underway.