by Linda Ellen
“All right, my dear. First stop – The Seelbach Hotel’s Derby Room.”
Gene held the door for Vivian as they exited the restaurant and then fixed his garrison cap back on his head. He took his place on the street side of the sidewalk and tucked Vivian’s hand in the crook of his elbow.
It was beginning to get a bit breezy on the downtown street and the warmth of his arm through the fabric of his shirt felt wonderful. She squeezed his forearm, noticing the firm muscle under the material, and sighed softly. Then closing her eyes, she breathed in his delicious masculine scent, which she was sure was uniquely part Gene and part Old Spice after-shave. Her father wore the same brand, but it never smelled that good on him!
Thinking back to when Gene had hurried around the front of the car to her side, she hadn’t been able to help but admire the picture he made in his khaki uniform, with his cap at just the right angle, tie knotted just right, trousers creased to perfection, and black shoes gleaming.
“That was great,” he interrupted her musings as he rubbed his belly appreciatively. “Haven’t had a meal that good since…last Sunday and your mom’s chicken and dumplings.” He sent her a cheeky grin.
She shot him a “Yeah, right” look. “Oh, come now, Sergeant. Surely my mother’s chicken and dumplings can’t compare to the connoisseur’s delights of the chef at The Derby Room. He would be highly insulted.” She held up a one-sheet flier about the restaurant, which she had picked up on the way out the door as memorabilia for her scrapbook. “Why, it says here,” she read from it, her tone playfully pretentious. “Every item on our menu begins with the finest meats, fruits and vegetables on the market, selected and prepared with utmost care – cooked and seasoned to delectable taste by our new chef, who comes to us direct from Chicago. Economical and oh, so good – get dinner for just sixty-five cents! Now I ask you, how could Mom’s chicken and dumplings trump that?”
Gene just beamed and turned his head a bit to look into her eyes as she smiled up at him. She wondered what he was thinking as she teasingly batted her eyes for good measure, but found she was unable to stifle her giggle.
“That’s all well and good,” he conceded. Then he sent her a wolfish grin. “But honey, never underestimate the power of a home-cooked meal. No disrespect to Chef What-Ever-His-Name-Is from Chicago, but it’s true what they say about the path to a man’s heart.”
“Mmm, I’ll have to remember that, soldier,” she murmured contentedly and he chuckled as they strolled down South Fourth toward the movie theater.
The couple had eyes for only each other until several yards further on, when they both heard a man’s voice holler, “Well, I’ll be a son of a gun! Gene Banks, in uniform?”
Gene looked up and broke into a grin from ear to ear at a couple walking toward them. “Chief? Is that you?”
The two men laughed and sped the last few steps toward one another, reaching out with right hands to connect in firm shakes, while their lefts gave friendly slaps on their backs.
“I ain’t seen you in…what’s it been? Four years? Five?” Vic Matthews, Gene’s friend from the days of the ’37 flood, exclaimed.
“Yeah, about that,” Gene agreed, still pumping Vic’s hand. “Good to see you, Vic. Good to see you.”
Both men cheerfully stepped back; Vic to once again draw near the woman he was with, and Gene to put his hand at Vivian’s back.
Vic proclaimed proudly, “You remember my wife, Louise.”
Gene inclined his head toward her with a friendly smile. “I sure do. So you two did get married. I’m glad. Nice to see you, Louise.”
“Hello Gene,” she nodded.
Drawing Vivian a bit closer, Gene said with his voice just as filled with pride, “Viv, remember me telling you about Vic Matthews, my old rescue boat skipper?” She nodded that she remembered as he went on, “Vic, Louise, this is Vivian Powell.”
Vivian had been gazing at the other woman, noticing her quiet beauty and dazzling smile, and she could not mistake the way she kept looking up at her dark-haired, dark-eyed, dashingly handsome husband in complete adoration. Another thing Vivian noticed was – the woman had on an identical dress to the one she was wearing! The only difference being that the colors in Louise’s were shades of blue while hers were pinks, but the style was exactly the same.
With a twinkle in her eye, Vivian quipped, “Nice to meet you both. And Louise – I must say, I love your taste in clothes.”
All four erupted in laughter.
Louise smiled in a friendly manner, smoothing one hand down the skirt of her dress. “I was about to say the same to you. But I think I like yours better. Those pinks look wonderful on you.”
The men talked for a few minutes, catching up on missed years. Vic seemed suitably impressed at what Gene had achieved in the C’s and in the Army, but Vivian thought he was a bit vague when it came to what he was doing now. She glanced at Gene, but he didn’t seem to think anything of it.
Eventually, the girls stepped closer to speak a few words woman to woman while the men reminisced. They each found it funny that both dresses were borrowed from their best friends to go out to the movies with their men. The girls hit it off right away and Louise mentioned that perhaps they could get together as a foursome sometime in the future.
“I’d love that, and I’m sure Gene would, too,” Vivian assured.
Suddenly, Gene brought up his arm and checked his watch. “Hot dog! Viv, if we don’t hurry, we’ll miss the start of the movie,” he said as he turned, reaching for her with his other hand.
“What movie are you going to see?” Louise inquired.
“A new one is playing at the Rialto called Saboteur, with Priscilla Lane and Robert Cummings,” Gene answered. “It’s by that Hitchcock fella, so it should be pretty good. The next showing is 7:15.”
“Oh Vic, what do you think?” Louise turned to her husband as she addressed them all. “We’ve been trying to decide all evening between Flying Tigers with John Wayne and Woman of the Year with Spencer Tracy and Katherine Hepburn. This one might be even better…”
“I don’t know…I was looking forward to watching the Duke whip ’em into shape…” he paused, looking down into his wife’s sparkling hazel eyes. Vivian knew before he said the next words that they would be joining them. It was obvious the man was smitten with his wife. “But, I guess. If that’s what you want,” he added softly.
Gene laughed out loud as he remembered all of the evenings the old gang had spent running around together – in that crazy ancient black hearse. She’d had him tied up in knots even then. Evidently things were no different now. “She’s still got you wrapped around her pinky finger, I see. Huh, boss?”
Vic turned his head and flashed his old friend a mischievous grin. “Oh shut up, Green Gene.”
“Hey!” the sergeant shot back, albeit laughingly. Vivian shot him a querying look and he mumbled, “Uh…I’ll explain that later.”
Vivian lingered for one more moment in the doorway of the elegant and amazing Rialto Theater, which was considered the finest and most costly movie house in Louisville. She’d heard its construction had cost over one million dollars when it opened in 1921. Viv had never had the pleasure of seeing a movie there before, and she wanted to savor the experience. This was a night for memories, and she knew she would never forget the venue’s breathtaking chandeliers of Bohemian crystal, the great marble staircase, and the walls overlaid with gorgeous tiles and fantastic mosaics. Finally, with a soft contented sigh, she allowed Gene to tug her out the doors with the others.
“Wow, that was some ending,” Louise Matthews declared as the four made their way out of the building. “I don’t think I’ll ever forget it.” She took her husband’s arm and looked questioningly up at him as the two couples began to stroll back to their cars. “Did you enjoy the movie?”
“Yeah, it was pretty good,” he answered. “I liked the newsreels, too. That bit about that defense plant in Akron, Ohio that’s turning out anti-aircraft guns wa
s interesting – and the stuff about how they get mail to the G.I.’s overseas, and how most of the guys were saved when the Yorktown was sunk.”
“And those poor people on Malta, being bombed so much – I felt so sorry for them,” Vivian added.
“Yeah,” Vic agreed. “The movie was good, too, though. That poor schmuck, Barry Kane, blamed for something he didn’t do, but nobody would cut him any slack. It sure was full of twists and turns. That Hitchcock fella can sure spin a good yarn.” Turning to look at Gene, he asked, “What’d you think about it, Sarge?”
“It got me fired up, I’ll tell you that,” Gene answered. “Guys like that Fry, they get me. How could anybody do something like that – betray America, set bombs and start fires, and hand a man a fire extinguisher filled with gasoline and watch him burn! And then, that old Charles Tobin – he sure was a piece of work. Lousy traitors,” Gene grumbled, as if he were distracted about something.
Vivian squeezed Gene’s arm and shuddered as she remembered the all-too-real final scene. “I hope I don’t have a nightmare about that awful Fry falling from the top of the Statue of Liberty. It was so real…” she shuddered again. “I almost felt sorry for him by then.”
“Yes, me too,” Louise agreed. “If only Barry had grabbed his arm and not just his sleeve…” The couples navigated around other people who were hurrying to catch the next showing.
“Something I didn’t quite get, though,” Louise continued, “was why Pat had such a hard time believing Barry was innocent. She should have been able to sense he was an honest man and telling the truth. The poor guy; I felt so sorry for him.”
“Oh I know,” Vivian agreed. “By then, she was in love with Barry. Her heart should have told her the truth, no matter how bad things looked. Remember how the circus people’s immediate belief in him convinced her of his veracity, but then later she overhears him in that Soda City place, bluffing his way out of the tight spot they were in – and right away, she doubts him again. I found that a little far-fetched.”
Gene grinned at her and couldn’t resist querying, “So, if it had been you, you’d stand by your man no matter what, huh?”
She met his eyes dead on and nodded, not a shred of doubt in her mind. “You bet I would.”
“Mmm, I’ll have to remember that, Miss Powell,” he teased, paraphrasing her earlier statement.
They both laughed.
Vivian, however, had no idea that before too long, her own words would, as they say, make a liar out of her.
CHAPTER 9
Gene pulled the car up in front of Vivian’s house and turned off the motor. They’d had such a wonderful evening that neither one wanted their date to come to an end.
Even as the hour grew late, they had dawdled along the way, attempting to postpone the inevitable. After stopping for a milkshake at a corner soda shop, Gene had driven slowly all the way to her house. There was nothing else to do – they had to say goodnight.
Each one sat for a moment, contemplating their end-of-date kiss…only their second one – they hadn’t had the opportunity to indulge since their mammoth first kiss. Gene almost laughed that he was actually nervous.
He cleared his throat and ventured, “Well…I guess I’ll walk you up.”
Vivian gathered her purse and sweater, glancing at him as she did. “All right.”
Gene climbed out of the driver’s side and rounded the car, opened the passenger door, and extended a hand to help her out. She took it and he drew her forth, marveling at the tingles he felt from the mere touch of their hands.
Politely tucking her hand in the crook of his arm, he strolled with her slowly up the walk, silently cursing the fact that he’d suddenly become tongue-tied. It seemed that she was, too.
They reached the porch and mounted the steps side by side. Vivian cringed a bit that her parents had left the porch light on, which was drawing moths. She batted one aside and moved a bit away. Then, with Gene’s help, she draped her sweater around her shoulders.
“I had a wonderful time tonight, Gene.”
“Me, too. The best date I’ve ever been on. That’s a fact, ma’am,” he added, exaggerating his Kentucky twang. Vivian giggled at his silliness.
“And your friends, they were very nice. I liked them both.”
“Yeah, they’re great.”
She seemed to be casting about for something to say, and then suddenly looked up at him with a mischievous grin. “Now, what was that about Green Gene?”
Gene tipped his head back and laughed, albeit not too loud, since it was so late.
“The guys called me that on the boat one day when I ate something bad and got sick. Even puked over the side…” Vivian wrinkled her nose at him. “Sorry,” he grimaced. “They said I turned green right before.” He shuddered at the memory. “Anyway, on and off all day it would hit me. So by the end of the day, I was Green Gene – and they never let me forget it,” he ended with an embarrassed chuckle.
“Oh, that’s awful, you poor baby,” Vivian cooed, lifting a hand and cupping his cheek.
“You know it.” He raised a hand and laid it warmly over hers as they stared at one another. A moth chose that moment to flutter at Vivian’s cheek and she swatted at it. He turned them so that he was closer to the light.
“Um…I guess I’ll see you tomorrow night, then?” she asked softly as she looked up into his face, but his features were now in shadow with his back to the glow.
He cleared his throat again, wishing the captain hadn’t given him an absolute order to go undercover on Saturday night to follow a lead. It was a logical thing to do, the captain just didn’t realize it was cramping Gene’s style something awful.
However, the worst part was, Gene couldn’t tell Vivian the truth. He’d been given direct orders – and if there was one thing about Gene Banks, he was a man who followed orders. It was a matter of personal pride for him. He chose his words carefully…
“Well, no. I won’t be able to be with you. The captain ordered me to do…something,” he hoped he didn’t sound as shady to her as he sounded to himself.
From the look on her face in the harsh porch light, he had.
“You’re not…oh…” she murmured softly, and he could see she was hurt. Of course she felt slighted – it was like he was saying he had something more important to do than spend time with her, but in his heart that was the farthest thing from the truth.
“I’m sorry. But…this can’t be avoided.”
“Well…what is it? Can’t you explain?” Vivian asked, apparently trying to control her feelings.
Gene sighed regretfully and slowly shook his head, keeping his voice gentle. “I’m sorry, but I can’t. I’m a sergeant, remember…sometimes, duty calls. It’s…official army business.”
At that, her expression softened a bit and her lips turned up in a slight smile. “Oh, I see. ‘Loose lips sink ships’ and all that?”
Gene chuckled. “Yeah. Something like that.”
“All right, Sergeant. I’ll let you off the hook this time,” she acquiesced. Then with a teasing twinkle, she brought up a hand and pressed a finger to his chest, adding, “Just don’t make a habit of it.”
Gene laughed out loud at that and gave her a perfect salute. “Yes, sir! Whoops, I mean…Yes, Ma’am.”
Vivian giggled at his play, and then her eyes grew serious when he lowered his hand and let it fall softly down to caress her shoulder and neck.
“Oh honey…you don’t know how I wish I could get out of it,” he murmured, his voice husky. Slowly, he brought his hand up and let his fingers cup her chin. “But…I’ll try to make it to church on Sunday.”
“That would be nice,” Vivian whispered, her senses totally zeroed in on the feeling of his fingers on her skin.
He leaned slowly forward, gently drawing her face toward his until his lips met hers. The feeling was electric, just like their first kiss. Each one took a surprised breath, and then melted into one another. Gene’s lips moved over Vivian’s, caressing
and warm as he breathed in the subtle scent of her perfume. He lost track of time as the rest of the world faded away and the universe became filled with only the two of them. Behind his eyelids, sparks seemed to dance. It was magical.
Finally, Gene forced himself to pull back, leaving each of them to shiver in reaction to cold reality. Did the night just get cooler? What was it about their kisses that seemed to wipe them both out?
With a dreamy smile, his voice low and thick, he said warmly, “Good night, sweet Vivian Powell.”
“Goodnight, wonderful Staff Sergeant Banks,” she answered just as dreamy.
“I hope Sunday gets here double-time.”
“Triple.”
She turned with a soft smile and opened the door, before slipping quietly inside. Just before she allowed the gap to close, she gave him one last wiggle of her fingers and a whispered, “Goodnight.”
He watched the door close and heard the lock turn, then walked to the car and stood for a moment just looking up at the porch. Then he got in the car, started it up, and drove away, feeling as if the night had lost its enchantment because Viv was no longer at his side – and it would be thirty-six hours before he would be able to hold her again. Part of his brain was amazed that she had become so important to his life in such a short time.
And for the first time since he had joined the C’s so many years before, he wished he didn’t have to follow orders.
Early Saturday evening, Staff Sergeant Blake Hendricks, Gene’s very own self-appointed vexer, walked into their shared room with a towel wrapped around his middle, while he vigorously dried his hair with another. He stole a quick look over at Gene lounging on his bunk flipping through the latest copy of Stars and Stripes. It didn’t appear to Hendricks that his roommate was preparing for a night out.
With a smirk, he taunted, “What, aren’t you going into town tonight? Your new girl drop you already?”
Gene clamped his teeth together and shot a look at the other man. “What girl?” he asked innocently.