Her Blue-Eyed Sergeant (Soldiers 0f Swing Book 1)

by Linda Ellen

  “Good riddance,” Viv immediately growled and Gene had to chuckle in agreement. He hoped that he would have the room to himself, at least for a while. If not, please God, at least make ’em give me a good egg.

  The song was over too soon for Gene’s liking, but Viv said she was thirsty, so she held tight to his hand and together they moved off the dance floor and toward the refreshment corner. He smiled as he followed along, glad to know that she just wanted a few more minutes to talk to him and he would almost have her all to himself.

  They got their beverages and made their way over to several tables that had been placed along the wall on one side. Sitting down at one, they leaned toward one another and sipped their soft drinks, trying to hear each other over the music.

  “Can you make it to church tomorrow?” Viv asked before taking a long drink.

  Gene nodded as he sipped his Dr. Pepper. “Yep. I’ve got my buddy’s car again. He had to take an emergency leave because his dad died. He left the car on base and said I could use it. He’s from New York and he said they go everywhere in taxis there.”

  “Oh, I’m sorry about his dad…”

  “Yeah, me too…” Gene paused, averting his eyes a bit and thinking about his own father that he hadn’t seen for far too long. Viv stared at him.

  “How long has it been since you’ve seen your parents?”

  The corner of his mouth lifted at her question. “What are you, a mind reader?”

  She laughed and reached out a hand to cup his cheek, suddenly serious. “No…but I can read your eyes…why don’t you go see them tomorrow?”

  His heart sped up a bit. Hold on, why should I get the jitters about seeing my folks and my family. Just because… well, that shouldn’t make any difference…

  Gene’s eyes met hers and he reached up to cover her hand. “Only if you go with me.”

  Viv’s eyes flared a bit and then she looked thoughtful. “Are you sure? I mean…what would they think?”

  At that, Gene broke into a slow smile and brought her hand around to his mouth to plant a kiss on her fingers. “They’d think their son and brother is bringing home the prettiest girl in Louisville, just to meet them. Deal?”

  Viv laughed at his playful compliment, and Gene’s heart thrilled to think that maybe, just maybe, she found him irresistible. “Deal, Sergeant.” She took another swallow of her drink and looked around, her eyes widening a bit. “Uh oh. Enemy sub at three o’clock. I’d better get.”

  He got the message and gave her a quick acknowledge with a tilt of his head. “I’ll see ya on your next break, honey.”

  She hopped up from her seat and beat a hasty retreat back toward the dancers, passing Miss Warren with a smile and a salute.

  The woman accepted the gesture, and then turned to give Gene the eye. Walking over to the table, she greeted him, “Good evening, Sergeant. You’ve been a regular at the club for some time now.” She turned and looked to see Viv already in the arms of a sailor in white. “But you’ve been minding your p’s and q’s. I’ve been watching.”

  Then she did something totally unexpected. She winked at him! “Keep up the good work, young man.”

  “Yes, ma’am,” Gene replied, flabbergasted. As she walked away, he shook his head, thinking, Well, I’ll be a monkey’s uncle. Wonders never cease!

  After church the next day, Gene maneuvered the ’39 Buick Century convertible onto Highway 31W, heading south, and turned his head to flash Vivian a grin. “You sure you’re okay? Too much wind?”

  She had insisted he could keep the top down, having come prepared with a silky scarf to tie over her hair. As they picked up speed, the wind whipped the ends of the scarf around and she reached up to keep them still as she looked over at him.

  She grinned back and shook her head. “No, not at all – I love it.”

  “Okay,” he said over the noise of the road and the wind. “But if you change your mind, just sing out.”

  “I will. Finish telling me about Bing…”

  “Well, he sang every song request we could throw at him,” he said as he finished telling her about the singer, Bing Crosby, making a personal appearance at the base the week before. “He sure had a busy day. I heard he went to Churchill Downs and entered his own horses in several races out there, and then he played in a golf match for the Army-Navy Relief Fund. After that, he was supposed to have a 15-minute interview at the Fort Knox field house, on our radio station WINN, but he was late and so to make up for that, he and Senator Chandler and Governor Myers, whom he’d played golf with, had a 90-minute ad lib song and gag session. It was a riot.”

  “I wish I could have seen him. I just love his voice, and his ‘Road’ pictures with Bob Hope. I’ve seen all three of them, Road to Singapore, Road to Zanzibar, and Road to Morocco. They’re hilarious. I hope they do more of those.”

  Gene beamed cheerfully in agreement. “Yep, best comedy team in show business.”

  “They sure are.”

  They rode along for a minute, perusing the familiar landscape that was the route to Fort Knox and enjoying the perfect weather – not a cloud in the sky. Viv commented on what a glorious day it was.

  “Oh look! There’s more Burma-Shave signs!” she giggled and pointed as she spotted a small wooden sign up ahead, situated close to the edge of the roadway and painted red with white letters. Put up on the highways across the country by the Burma-Vita Company, which produced a brand of brushless shaving cream called Burma-Shave, the little signs, usually five or six in a set with a few words on each one, were spaced about 100 yards from each other, and intended to be viewed in a series. Taken all together, they made up a witty rhyming message. The last sign in the set always displayed the product logo. It was an extremely successful advertising gimmick.

  Vivian read each portion of the rhyme aloud as they rolled past. “No lady likes…to dance or dine…accompanied by…a porcupine…Burma-Shave.” They both laughed.

  “So true!” she chuckled.

  Gene shot her a mock expression of insult. “So, if I had come to the dance that first time and hadn’t shaved – you wouldn’t have danced with me?”

  She pursed her lips together, obviously trying to look serious, but failing. She shook her head with a decisive NO. “Nope. Uh uh. Not a one.”

  “Well, Jiminy Crickett,” he quipped, raising a hand and rubbing his smooth chin. “I’m sure glad I used that good ol’ Burma-Shave, then!”

  She grinned teasingly and adjusted her scarf in the breeze before looking over at him. “Church was good today, wasn’t it,” she stated.

  He nodded with a smile, glad that she had convinced him to get back in church. He hadn’t been going regularly since everyone had gone the Sunday after Pearl Harbor and he’d realized over the weeks since getting back “in the groove” that he’d been nursing some anger against God. Just another thing meeting Viv had done to improve his life…that, and shaming him into contacting his family.

  Now, he thought about their morning. He had spent the night at the club again, and had made it out to her church in plenty of time. “Yeah. I really like how your pastor tells so many stories. That one today about taking his wife out for their first date and forgetting his wallet – and she had to pay for the meal – the way he told it sure was funny.”

  Viv laughed. “Yeah, sometimes I wonder that Margaret even married him. And he’s got a blue million stories. I’ve probably heard every one of them, but they never seem to get old or worn out – and he always ties in good points with them.”

  “Like today…talking about forgiveness and unconditional love and trust.” Gene shook his head, reaching back to unconsciously rub the back of his neck. “It was like the man was reading my mail.”

  She smiled in complete agreement. “He’s quite good at that.”

  Another minute of silence went by and she gazed over at him again. He seemed to be deep in thought. “Did you get a call through to your parents?” she asked, suddenly realizing that if he hadn’t, they would
be dropping in on them unannounced.

  She was relieved when he shook his head in the affirmative. “Pop had a telephone installed a few years ago, and I’m glad of that. Before, we could only get a call through the corner store up the road. That was a pain; let me tell you. It was long distance from downtown Louisville, but it was worth the money.”

  Viv smiled, remembering when her family had the same situation. She waited, hoping Gene would expound on the subject, but he didn’t. Finally, she ventured, “What did they say?”

  He shook his head as if he’d let his mind wander. “Huh? Oh, they said fine. They’d love to see me, they’d love to meet you, and Pop had just been hunting and brought back a deer, so we’ll have venison steaks on the grill and Mom’s making potato salad and some other things, and a chocolate cake…I just hope she’s not using up all her ration stamps on us…”

  Something in his voice made Viv look closely at him. “Gene…how long has it been since you’ve seen your family?”

  He pressed his lips together and took in a big breath. Then, she saw him swallow as the muscle in his jaw moved and he clamped his teeth together. Oh goodness…what is he not telling me?

  Finally, he admitted, practically under his breath, “Two years.”

  Viv’s mouth dropped open. She couldn’t imagine not seeing her mother and father for that long of a time span. “Oh Gene! W…why?”

  He glanced at her and then reached over and took her hand, tugging her closer across the bench seat. She came willingly. Steering with his left hand, he stared straight ahead while the thumb of his right hand stroked the backs of her fingers. He was quiet for a few minutes and she let him gather his thoughts.

  Finally, he began. “There’s something I want to tell you…something I’ve never told another living soul. I…I found out a few years back that…I was adopted.” He shot a look at her face, like he expected her to react negatively. She didn’t, she merely squeezed his hand and sent him a small encouraging smile. When he didn’t elaborate, she prodded, “And…?”

  He shrugged and she could tell the subject was very hard for him to talk about. But…somehow she knew he needed to talk about it.

  “How did you find out? Did your parents tell you?”

  He snorted and shook his head. “My brother.”

  “Your brother knew, but you didn’t?”

  Pulling in a deep breath, he nodded and unconsciously moved his arm up to press their entwined hands against his chest, as if to relieve pain buried there.

  “One day, me and my brother Jack…his name is Jackson, well…we got into it. I can’t even remember what the fight was about. Just scrapping, like all brothers do. I was nineteen, and he’d just turned eighteen… In the middle of the argument – we were in the barn milking the cows, of all things – he yelled, ‘Well, at least I’m not adopted, like you!’ and then he clamped his hand on his mouth and looked at me, his eyes round as saucers. I felt like the bottom dropped out of my whole existence. For some reason, I didn’t go ask my parents. I believed him; I guess because of the expression on his face maybe, but deep down in my gut, I knew it was true. I kind of went berserk for a minute and…I punched him. Knocked him clean down on the dirt floor – first time I’d ever done anything like that to Jack, we’d always been close, you know? And then I just…ran.”

  “Ran?”

  He nodded, driving by habit as the memories swam before his vision. “Mom was visiting a sick neighbor, and Pop was out hunting. I ran in the house, threw some things in a bag, and started walking down 31W – in the rain. Eventually, I hopped a bus, and rode to Louisville, to my uncle’s house. My dad’s brother.”

  “My goodness! I bet your parents were frantic when they came home.”

  “They were. They questioned Jack and he just said I went crazy and ran off. He told me later Mom walked the floor all night, praying for me…” he paused again, his eyes glistening. “Uncle Jerry called Pop the next day…or rather, he left a message down at Weaver’s…that I was with them and I was all right. Then…he and Aunt Ida…they told me the truth.”

  Vivian squeezed his hand and waited, letting him unload at his own pace. She watched him shiver, and her heart compressed knowing that it hurt him so much, even after the time that had passed.

  Finally, he began, “My parents were living in Baytown, Texas, when the big Goose Creek oil well came in. Hundreds of men went there from all over, some with their wives. Well…I was born…and my real mom died having me. I don’t know anything about my real father. My parents had been married for three years and Mom was afraid she wasn’t going to have any children…they took me and gave me the Banks’ name. Three months later, my mom found out she was pregnant. After Jack and then Laura were born, Pop quit the oil field job and they moved here to E-town. He bought the farm with money he’d saved up… They never told anyone the truth, except Aunt Ida and Uncle Jerry.”

  “Well…then how did Jack know?”

  Gene shook his head with another soft snort. “He said he got up one night to go use the outhouse, and Mom and Pop were in their room with their light on and the door shut. It was almost Christmas, and Jack thought if he listened at the door, he might hear them talking about Christmas presents…instead, he heard ’em talking about me.”

  “Oh no…how old was he?”

  “About twelve,” Gene shrugged. “He said he never intended to just blurt it out like that. But once the cat was outta the bag, he couldn’t stuff it back in.”

  Vivian laid her head on Gene’s shoulder, her heart aching for the hurt young man that he still was deep down. But…even though she, herself, couldn’t really identify or understand what he was feeling – surely it wasn’t as terrible as he made it seem. She bit her lip for a moment, striving for words that would comfort him as he continued.

  “I’d always kind of wondered why I didn’t look like anybody in the family…” he admitted softly. “I always felt like…like there was something I didn’t know that I should know, just kind of lurking in the shadows, waiting for me to find out. But, I sure didn’t dream it would be that. I told you Pop always teased Mom that I was the product of her messing around, and I’d kind of thought…” his voice slowed to a stop and he gave a small shrug.

  “Gene…I’m sure your parents love you. I’ll bet they love you just as much as they love their…other children…”

  He slowly blinked, his eyes serious as he drove, and she knew he’d heard those words before. “I know. We’ve talked about it. I know they love me…my brothers and sisters love me…I guess it’s just…” he wavered, trying to articulate very deep, confusing feelings. “My dad, he’d always been a straight up guy, you know? I never knew him to lie – to anyone. Over the years, I’d heard more than one person say, ‘If Banks said it, you can take it to the bank.’ I was always so proud of him…wanted to be just like him. Then…I find out he’d been lying to me all my life – and Mom too.”

  Vivian laid her hand on Gene’s chest and pressed it against his heart, which she could feel was thumping hard. “Gene…I wouldn’t call that a lie, the same as speaking falsehoods. They just didn’t tell you something. I bet if you had asked them, they would have…”

  He shook his head, but didn’t disengage himself from her. “I asked him that, and he looked me straight in the eye and said, “Son, I’d have to say no. I’d probably not ever have told you…because your mom and I were afraid you’d react, well – just like you did.”

  “Oh honey…” Vivian murmured.

  “That was two years ago. I haven’t been back since. Not even when I was first sent to Knox.”

  Viv pressed a bit closer and laid her head back down on his shoulder to try and give him moral support. He turned his head a bit and gave her a tiny smile, nuzzling his cheek against the top of her head.

  Then, he turned his eyes back to the road with a sigh.

  CHAPTER 13

  They had passed Fort Knox and motored through Radcliff, and now as the familiar landscape and rolling hi
lls of his home came into view, Gene’s hand started to sweat on the steering wheel. He swallowed and tried to smile at his companion.

  “We’re almost there.”

  Her hands flew up to her scarf and she scooted over a bit, reaching for her purse on the floorboard. “Oh goodness, I need to make sure I look…”

  “You look beautiful,” he interrupted, reaching over to grasp her hand again and bring it to his lips.

  She smiled shyly, but still turned the rearview mirror to the right so that she could see herself and make a few hasty repairs. Vivian yanked the scarf off her head and smoothed her hair as he slowed the car to turn right onto a gravel road. There was a rural mailbox next to it, with the words “Banks Family” barely decipherable along the side. The letters had once been bright white. He knew, as he’d been the one to paint them, back in the carefree days of being John Banks’ oldest, and proudest, son.

  He slowed to a stop and gazed in both directions. The gravel road went straight for about four hundred yards until it passed some trees, then it veered to the right. Vivian stared at two wire fences with wooden posts made from straight, uniformly sized tree branches running down both sides of the drive, with acres of land stretching out on either side.

  “How far does the property go?”

  “We’ve got 150 acres. The house and barns sit right in the middle,” he motioned toward a barn with a red painted metal roof that they could just make out. “The house is beyond those trees,” he added softly.

  After a few moments, he drew in a big breath and let it out slowly. Turning his head toward her, he mumbled nervously, “Here we go,” and let the car move forward.

  Once they rounded the stand of trees and the house came into view, Vivian relaxed back onto the upholstery, as an unexpected peace seemed to settle down onto her shoulders like a warm cape on a windy day. It was a typical farmhouse, with two stories, three dormers, and a deep front porch that ran the width. Somehow, it exuded warmth and family…and love.