by Linda Ellen
“I want to welcome all of you and I thank you for coming and helping my husband celebrate his milestone birthday. There are plenty of snacks and soft drinks in the room to my right,” she pointed toward a doorway. “Everyone have a good time, and a bit later, we’ll let birthday boy cut his cake,” she added as everyone laughed. Her husband grinned and grabbed her for a kiss, prompting whistles and cheers. Enjoying herself, she kissed him back with gusto, and then turned to signal the band to begin playing. Their first song was the smooth ballad You’re Getting to Be a Habit With Me.
As one, the men in uniform charged over to the girls, like Derby horses when the gates are flung open; and Gene went right along with them. It only took seconds for him to reach Viv’s side, take her hand, and pull her into his arms to begin swaying to the music.
“Hi,” he murmured, loving how she fit so perfectly in his arms. “Wow, has this been a long week. I was so glad to get your note that you were coming to the party.” He waited for a few seconds. “I’m sorry I couldn’t make it to church. Did you have a good week?”
He pulled back and looked down into her face, which seemed a bit guarded. She peered up into his eyes and then averted her gaze. “Viv? Honey, what’s wrong? Are you mad at me about church?”
Viv drew her lip between her teeth for a moment and then met his eyes again. “I was just wondering about Saturday…”
Gene’s brows furrowed. “Saturday? What do you mean? I told you I had an assignment.”
She nodded, hesitant to delve into the subject. It had been bothering her all week, however, so she forged on. “I just was surprised, that’s all. I mean…the least you could have done was give me a smile.”
A shadow crossed over Gene’s features as he tried to make sense of what she was saying. Didn’t she understand he’d been on assignment? What did she mean give her a smile?
“I wanted to, honey. Heck, I wanted to do more than that,” he teased, trying to coax a smile from her. “Believe me, I wasn’t enjoying myself.”
They had settled into a comfortable dance position, cheek to cheek, but at that sentence Vivian leaned her head back again, her expression perplexed.
“You weren’t? Well, you certainly fooled me!”
Gene locked his gaze with hers for a moment, shock radiating through his body. He was starting to get a bit unnerved. Had she seen him? He shook his head, emitting an uncertain chuckle.
“Baby, I don’t know what you’re talking about, but couldn’t we just forget Saturday and concentrate on here and now?”
Sadness seemed to seep into Vivian’s beautiful eyes and she let out a resigned sigh, lifting one shoulder in a tiny shrug. “I suppose so. If you want me to believe you weren’t having fun with that girl, then you must be a very good actor.”
Gene’s heart skipped a beat and his eyes widened. “You saw me?”
“Yes of course, did you think I wouldn’t?” she answered, her eyes incredulous that he should even ask such a question.
He studied her face for a minute, the wheels whirring behind his eyes.
“Where?”
“At the dance, of course.”
Relief flooded his limbs and he laughed as he drew her close again, murmuring in her ear, “You must have just been imagining things and conjured me up. Can’t say I’m insulted. But…what I want to do is concentrate on tonight. I have it on good authority that there is no ‘one dance’ rule for this shindig.”
The ballad ended and the band immediately launched into Boogie Woogie Bugle Boy of Company B. Gene had always been proud of the music the Army band could produce, but tonight they were outdoing themselves. Plus, several of the USO girls could sing quite well and had volunteered to join the band on the temporary dais, delivering more than a fair job on the lyrics. Everyone on the floor kicked it into high gear, whooping and hollering, and jitterbugging to beat the band. Gene and Viv were no exception.
By the second verse, Viv was laughing, spinning, and twirling, and transformed back into the girl he had fallen in love with, much to Gene’s relief.
Now Vivian wasn’t sure of anything. On Saturday night, she would have sworn that soldier at the club was Gene. He had looked just like him…or had he? His uniform was a bit unkempt compared to Gene’s usual penchant for neatness and…something about how he danced, talked, and comported himself wasn’t, well…Gene. Was his hair a bit lighter? Maybe he was a bit heavier, even an inch shorter perhaps? Okay, it wasn’t him. Just some other soldier that kind of resembled him. I’ve heard it said that everyone has a double somewhere in the world. Gene’s just happens to be in the same town. I wonder if he’s a soldier at Knox…Or… Vivian almost laughed out loud at herself. Maybe unconsciously I’m expecting Gene to cheat on me, to lie to me, and he’s right, somehow I conjured him up.
Her relief was palpable. As her limbs relaxed, she almost lost rhythm with the silly song.
Her spirits buoyed, she allowed herself to have fun with Gene, dancing tune after tune with him and reinforcing her belief that he was one great hoofer, and one very sweet guy. Her favorite moments, however, were the slow melodies, when Gene would draw her into his arms and they would glide effortlessly around the floor, their awareness of one another blocking out the reality of anyone else being in the room. She knew she would never tire of feeling his warm arms surrounding her, his hand holding hers, his wonderful Old Spice aftershave lending to an invisible cloud of bliss.
I’m so glad I decided to come to this party. The club is so nice, she mused as she opened her eyes, her cheek pressed against Gene’s as she gazed at their surroundings. The big, open area boasted beamed ceilings, polished hardwood floors, a creek stone fireplace, and large windows that looked out over acres of smooth, green lawn dotted with tall majestic trees. It smelled wonderfully of cedar, aftershave, and a trace of cigarette smoke, which Viv figured was probably from the dozens of officers who frequented the club and sat around smoking, drinking brown bottles of beer, and playing cards and games of pool – or so the girls had said in the bus on the way there.
That song ended and another fast kicker started up – The Beer Barrel Polka. Everyone let out a whoop and began trying to perform the circular shuffling, twirling steps. Neither Viv nor Gene knew the dance, but they looked at one another and shrugged with matching grins, determined to give it a go.
Soon everyone was chortling and calling out insults as turns and kicks got all discombobulated. Several couples were doing a fine job and Viv and Gene did their best to emulate their moves. Finally as the song came to an end, the band decided to take five and everyone drifted over to the refreshment tables.
Vivian drew the back of her hand over her forehead and then fanned her face. “Whew, I worked up quite a thirst,” she giggled, accepting Gene’s proffered clean white handkerchief with a smile. She dabbed her face with it.
“What do you want to drink?” Gene asked, naming the choices.
“Oh, I’d love a Grapette,” she answered and he reached to get a bottle, removing the lid before handing it to her.
She took a deep drink and sighed at the pure effervescent pleasure it afforded.
“You having a good time?” Gene asked, taking her elbow and guiding her over to some chairs against one wall.
“Oh yes, this is so much fun,” she gushed, truly meaning the words. Looking around, she added, “This is a nice clubhouse…do you…come here often?”
He took a long pull of his Dr. Pepper and looked around with a shrug. “Some. I have a few buddies I play cards or shoot pool with. But…” he reflected and turned her way; almost as if he were embarrassed at what he was about to confess. “I don’t smoke, and I don’t much care for beer or liquor. The fellows rib me about it…you know, calling me a teetotaler or a Puritan, or straitlaced…or my favorite – Mr. Buzzkill,” he laughed and she giggled with him, leaning close.
Gene shrugged again. “I’m not a Puritan. Heck, I used to smoke when I was a teen, just like everybody I knew. My dad and my brothers smoke. We even
raise tobacco on our farm. I just quit because I got tired of smelling like an old ashtray – and tasting even worse – and like my uncle used to say, ‘spending good money just to light it up and let it burn’.” He stopped and looked around before he continued. “I get a beer once in a while, if I’m in the mood – and if it’s ice cold and I’m as parched as a desert. But…well, you know how it is.”
Vivian had been watching him, secretly so glad to know for sure that he didn’t regularly drink or smoke, as they weren’t habits of which she herself was very fond. She reached over and laid her hand over one of his. He looked into her eyes and she smiled.
“I’m glad. Personally, I wouldn’t like you as much if you smelled like an old ashtray all the time,” she teased, her eyes twinkling merrily.
He grinned, those blue eyes sparkling as he allowed them to caress her hair, her face, her dress. “You’re wearing your green polka-dot again. I sure like it…on you, I mean…it looks good on you,” he stumbled, as if he had suddenly gotten tongue-tied and – was he blushing? Do men really blush?
“Thank you, Sergeant.”
He chuckled and leaned near, whispering in her ear, “None ’a that. I’d say you and I are way past the ‘Sergeant’ and ‘Miss Powell’ stage…wouldn’t you?” His warm, deliciously Dr. Pepper-scented breath fanned her cheek and sent tingles all the way down her spine, almost as if she’d taken a slug of the bubbly drink itself. She gave a hazy nod of agreement and her eyelids drifted shut. For a moment, every thought went right out of her head.
She was vaguely aware that the music had begun again – this one a ballad, Bing Crosby’s, Only Forever. It was amazing how they kept playing songs that said what was in her heart…yes, she wanted to be with Gene forever, to have him grant all her wishes, to come near when he beckoned…how she would always remember the first time she’d seen him smile…
She opened her eyes when Gene leaned back, expecting him to extend his hand and ask her to dance…but he was staring past her head – and his expression was anything but dreamy and happy.
CHAPTER 11
Vivian watched as Gene’s eyes, which had narrowed and hardened to an icy blue, seemed to be tracking movement. Concerned at his immediate change in mood, she turned to see what had captured his attention just in time to see another man with sergeant stripes on his sleeves come to a stop right behind her. The man was stocky in build, a few inches shorter than Gene, with dishwater blond hair and hard green eyes.
Suddenly, she realized Gene had tensed up, like a tiger ready to pounce. Through gritted teeth, he growled, “Thought you weren’t coming to Sergeant Holland’s party, Hendricks.” His tone suggested he very much wished that had been the case.
The other man ignored the comment, choosing to mutter instead as his eyes raked Vivian from head to foot, “So, this is the dish, huh Banks?” Gene didn’t move or respond, but just as she felt him begin to lean protectively closer, the other man offered her a hand. “Wanna dance, doll face?”
Out of habit she acquiesced. Taking Hendricks’ hand, she shot Gene an apologetic glance, and allowed the other man to help her up and over to the dance floor where he pulled her straight into his arms – way too close. She was immediately uncomfortable.
She tried to push back and create some space between their bodies. “Please, Sergeant…not so close…” she requested softly.
His rigid arms refused to yield as he led her in a slow swooping turn, his hard chest pressed to the softness of hers. “Isn’t that what you girls are here for? To dance with us lonely GI’s and give us a little pleasure?” The way he said the last word seemed as if he meant something entirely different, and Vivian’s heart started to pound. Something about this man made her fight-or-flight response flare to life. The disagreeable odor of beer on his breath made her nearly gag. He’d been drinking…was he drunk? Is that why he was acting this way?
“Y—yes,” she stammered, her mouth suddenly dry as she searched for a way out that wouldn’t offend the sergeant. She wished fervently that Gene would cut in. Viv tried to turn her head and see where Gene was, to perhaps send him a message of help with her eyes, but Hendricks kept her body molded to his and her back to where they had left Gene as he swayed with her to the music. He wasn’t nearly as good a dancer as Gene and she had trouble following him. Everything seemed out of synch.
“I bet you’ve been giving Banks pleasure, haven’t you, doll,” his voice slithered into her ear. His hot breath caused shivers to race down her body that were anything but pleasurable.
“S—Sergeant Banks and I enjoy one another’s company, if…if that’s what you mean,” she gasped, forcing herself to keep dancing when all she wanted to do was push him away and run back to Gene. Her displeasure and near panic must have been evident on her face, as several of the girls dancing with other soldiers nearby kept giving her sympathetic glances.
The man then had the audacity to allow the hand that was pressing against her back to begin a slow slide toward a part of her that he shouldn’t be touching. “C’mon baby, relax. I’m your lover boy’s roommate. The name’s Blake. I can show you a good time – way better than Banks. Don’t limit your favors to just one guy.” His hand reached its target and he whispered his next request in her ear. Vivian felt her face flame red at his vulgar words.
Without thinking, she wrenched out of his grasp as his eyes and mouth opened in surprise, drew back her arm, and slapped him straight across his face. “How dare you,” she hissed, her eyes filling with tears of embarrassment and hurt.
Before she could blink, Gene was there. Charging up like a ferocious lion, he moved her out of the way, and put his whole body behind the force of one hard punch, straight to the other man’s mouth. It sent him to the floor and even skidding down a few feet as the women nearby squealed and the music stopped.
Several dancing couples nearest the action rushed to intervene. Two of Gene’s friends grasped his arms as if they figured he would go after Hendricks again, while two more hauled the other sergeant to his feet. The dancers had scooted back, making an open area around the disturbance.
Sgt. Maj. Holland elbowed his way through. “Gentlemen, what is the meaning of this?” he demanded.
Gene’s face was red with anger and he was panting as if he’d run up a hill in full combat gear. He was glaring at Hendricks, his fists tightly clenched.
Vivian had covered her mouth with her fingertips, mortified to have caused the ruckus.
Suddenly, Mary June appeared at her side with Mrs. Holland on the other, while several of the other girls came around them to unconsciously give Vivian support. Everyone was staring at Sgt. Hendricks as he glared back at Gene, both his lips split and bleeding from connection with Gene’s hard fist. Hendricks yanked his arms out from the grasps of the other men and dug a handkerchief out of his pocket to dab at his mouth.
“Well?” Sgt. Maj. Holland demanded again.
Neither man seemed willing to speak up.
The thought that this could get Gene into trouble crossed Vivian’s mind. He had shared with her that he was up for promotion to a higher rank, and if this caused him to lose that opportunity, or worse yet, lose his sergeant stripes, she would never forgive herself. Oh, why had she agreed to dance with that horrible man?
Mary June, never a gal one could call shy, spoke up in heated defense of her friend. “I saw the whole thing. That sergeant there,” she pointed at the sulking Hendricks, “was holding my friend extra close while they danced and…well…putting his hands on her. Then, he whispered something in her ear and she slapped him for it.”
Sgt. Maj. Holland shifted his eyes to Vivian and then over to Gene. “And I suppose you came rushing to her defense, Sergeant?”
Vivian cast a glance at Gene and was relieved that the other men had let him go. “That’s right, sir,” he answered. He was just standing quietly now, although his breathing was still rapid and he was unconsciously rubbing the knuckles of his right hand as he waited for his commanding officer to co
ntinue.
The commander turned and affixed his gaze onto Hendricks like a spotlight. Viv wondered if he’d had trouble with the man before. From his expression, it seemed so.
Finally, the sergeant major barked, “I should throw you both in the stockade…” but he paused as his wife moved to his side and curved her hand around his elbow. She looked up at him, sending him a silent message. Smiling into her eyes, he seemed to relax a bit as he patted her hand. “But since it’s my birthday party, and my wife doesn’t want it spoiled…” he stopped and shifted his focus between the two men.
“Hendricks, I want you to apologize to this young woman, and then confine yourself to quarters. You’re to report to my office first thing in the morning.” The tone of the order left no room to argue.
Sgt. Hendricks flicked a final glare toward Gene, and then turned his gaze to Vivian. Straightening to his full height as if coming to attention, he inclined his head in her direction. “I apologize for my unsavory behavior, Miss.” Then with a snap, he saluted his superior and stiffly stalked off toward the door. Once it closed behind him, everyone in the room seemed to breathe a bit easier.
Sgt. Maj. Holland turned to Gene. “Sergeant Banks, you know I allow no fighting amongst my men. However…” he paused, seemingly appraising Gene’s thoughts, and then his eyes twinkled. “Since you have apparently appointed yourself the young woman’s Sir Galahad…my wife requests that you be allowed to stay at my party.” Everyone chuckled, including Mrs. Holland, as she looked up at him adoringly.
Then, the commander turned his attention to Vivian. “Miss…” he paused, eyebrows raised.
“Powell, Sir. Vivian Powell.”
He smiled kindly, and something about him reminded her a bit of her father. “Miss Powell, please accept my apology as well, for how you were treated. No young woman should volunteer for the USO and be subjected to manhandling such as that. Might I suggest that you and your rescuer spend a few minutes outside in the cool evening air to collect yourselves, and then return to the dance when you are ready?”