A Woman's Place (14 page)

Earl’s apartment was small and neat, consisting of a sitting room and a bedroom. “Can I offer you some coffee or a soda pop?” he said as he showed them the tiny efficiency kitchen behind a folding screen.

“No, thanks,” Russ said. “You got a spare key for me?” He seemed to be in a hurry to leave and didn’t even try to make polite conversation. He circled his arm around Jean’s waist and held her close as they walked away, staking his claim on her.

For the rest of the afternoon and evening, Russell’s only goal seemed to be to get Jean alone. They decided to go to a movie after supper, but he wanted to sit in the balcony and neck all the way through it. She couldn’t have said what the film was about.

“There isn’t much to do in town,” she said afterward, “but I know a place where we can go dancing.”

“I don’t dance, remember?” Russell said.

“Yeah, I remember. I guess I was hoping you’d learned how. I could teach you, if you want me to.” She smiled up at him, but he shook his head. “Okay, then, what’s left? It’s too cold to go for a walk. Want to go back to the house?”

“Sure. You think your sister is asleep by now?”

They cuddled together on Patty’s sofa, aware that she was still awake and padding around upstairs. Russ wanted to continue necking, but Jean pointed to the ceiling and shook her head.

“How’s your father’s farm doing?” she asked.

“The same,” he said with a shrug.

“Oh, I just got a letter from Johnny. He’s at Mac Dill Field in Florida now, training to be a gunner on a B—26. He said that—”

“I really don’t want to talk about John.”

Jean gaped at him in surprise. “But you and John are best friends—” He cut off her words with a kiss. She wondered if it embarrassed him to talk about Johnny because he had enlisted and Russ hadn’t. When the kiss finally ended, she decided to change the subject.

“My job at the shipyard is really challenging. And I’ve got the nicest girls on my crew. They—”

“No offense, Jean, but I didn’t come all the way here to talk about your job.” All he wanted to do was smooch. Jean was beginning to think that Patty had done the right thing to send Russ away for the night.

When he stopped necking long enough to come up for air, Russ said, “By the way, I’ve got some good news. I wanted to tell you in person, not in a letter. They’re hiring more workers at the old furniture factory in town. They got an army contract to make parachutes or something. Why don’t you come home and work there? We could be together all the time.”

“But I like my job. I’m a supervisor and everything.”

“So? Maybe they’d let you be a supervisor at the parachute factory, too. I miss you, Jean. I wish I could see you every weekend.”

“I miss you, too.”

She started kissing him again in an attempt to change the subject, but as soon as Russ pulled away he said, “Give them your two weeks’ notice and come home, Jean.”

Something about the way he said it made it seem as though he was ordering her, not asking. She thought about Ginny’s domineering husband and resisted the idea of giving in. What made Russ think he could call the shots? She didn’t want to lose him, but how could she hang on to him and still keep her independence?

“I’m not sure I want to start all over again with a new job,” she said. “We’re about to launch the first ship that my girls and I ever worked on.”

“That’s about the hundredth time you mentioned your girls. What about you and me?”

Jean knew she didn’t want the pressure of a relationship right now. If she moved back home it would be only a matter of time before Russ would start pushing for marriage, and her dream of going to college would go up in smoke. She would hate to lose Russ to another girl, but it was much too soon to get so serious about each other.

“Do you ever go out with other girls back home?” she asked.

“No, of course not. I belong to you. Why? Do you have another guy?”

“No, I swear. There’s nobody.”

“Then what’s holding you here? Why not work in a factory closer to home so we can be together?”

“Well, Patty needs my help, for one thing. Bill’s fighting in North Africa now. And I worry about the girls at work—”

“Sounds like you worry more about them than me.”

“Russ, I don’t want to argue.” She sighed and twined her arms around his neck. “I’ll figure out how to get home one of these weekends and look into a job at the factory, okay? Who knows if they even need electricians?”

“So what if they don’t? Can’t you do some other job?”

“Would you want to do another job besides farming? I’m trained to be an electrician. And I’m good at it.”

“Don’t be difficult, Jean.”

“I’m sorry … I don’t want to fight. Our time together is much too short.”

“You’re right about that.”

She settled comfortably in his arms again, determined to enjoy their brief time together. But when she kissed Russell good-bye at the bus station the next day, she felt unsettled—almost relieved to see him leave—and didn’t know why.

CHAPTER 13

*   
Virginia
   *

Ginny paused as she entered the factory floor on Monday morning, taking a moment to bask in the hum of activity all around her. Out of this chaos of scattered parts, clanging machinery, and earsplitting noises, completed ships emerged. It amazed her.

“Whatcha looking at?” Rosa asked, coming up behind her.

“I don’t know,” she said, smiling. “Everything! I remember feeling so overwhelmed by the immense scale of it all on my first day here—weren’t you? And now just think! We’re a vital part of it!”

“Yeah, it’s a nice feeling.”

“I can’t imagine a more beautiful sight than seeing a ship we wired move down the assembly line to the next phase, suspended from the ceiling by those enormous chains. And what could be more exciting, more challenging, than to see another ship being moved into place, ready for us to tackle?”

“Boy, you’re sounding real poetic today.” Rosa laughed and linked arms with Ginny as they walked to their workstation. Not only was a new ship waiting for them this morning, but Mr. Seaborn was, as well.

“Congratulations, ladies. I’ve been reviewing our production figures, and your team has the best record of all our electricians. You’ve wired and installed all of your circuits in record time and you’ve never held up production. Great job! You deserve to be proud of yourselves.”

Rosa gave a whoop of joy. Ginny couldn’t resist hugging Jean. Even Helen quietly clapped her hands. Ginny did feel proud. And the friendships they had forged really meant something, too. They were accomplishing real work, not wasting time with silly card games and social one-upmanship.

“We owe all our success to you, Jean,” Ginny told her later that day as they all gathered around the lunchroom table. “You’re an inspiring leader.”

Rosa poured coffee into her Thermos cup and lifted it in salute. “Three cheers for Jean! We should go celebrate.”

“Thanks.” Jean’s fair cheeks turned pink as she blushed.

“You look different lately,” Ginny told her. “Your hair is different. I like it that way. And I like your makeup, too.”

“Thanks. Rosa helped me. My boyfriend came up to visit me last weekend—”

“Yeah, how’d everything go?” Rosa asked. “If I’m not being too nosy.”

“It went well. I miss him already.”

“What does he look like? You got a picture?” Rosa asked.

Ginny peered over her shoulder as Jean showed them a snapshot. “He’s very handsome,” she said. “You’d better think twice before you marry such a handsome man. You’ll always be worrying about other women. Better an average-looking one who stays home, in my opinion.”

“Russ is a real homebody,” Jean said with a sigh. “In fact, he wants me to get a factory job closer to home, and I’m not sure I want to. I love my job here. He has me so confused. What do you do when you like someone and want to be with him, but you like your independence, too?”

“I know exactly how you feel,” Ginny said. “Since I started working here, it’s the first time in my life that I’ve ever felt independent—except maybe for the few months I spent in college before I met Harold. It’s going to be very hard to give all this up when the time comes.”

“When your husband finds out?” Rosa asked. Ginny nodded.

“I don’t know how you’ve managed to keep it a secret this long,” Helen said.

“Well, Harold goes out of town a lot. And when he is in town, he’s so busy at the office that he just comes home to eat and sleep and then goes back again. The family dog is the only one who’s noticed that I’m working,” she said, trying to laugh. “Rex misses me so much that he follows me around like a shadow whenever I’m home. He even lies down with his head on my feet when I’m ironing or washing dishes. I guess Rex is a lot more observant than Harold.”

She felt herself getting emotional and was grateful when Jean changed the subject. “What kind of work does your husband do?” she asked.

“He’s an engineer. He gets factories up and running. I don’t know much more than that because he never wants to talk about his work. He says I wouldn’t understand. I know he started getting really busy when the war began in Europe and President Roosevelt announced the Lend—Lease program. His company must have helped hundreds of factories retool for defense contracts by now.”

“How come he didn’t get drafted?” Rosa asked.

“The government decided that his job is necessary for the war effort. They hired Harold’s firm to oversee things and make sure everybody meets their quotas on time. He works very hard.”

“So do you, Ginny,” Jean said. “When you stop and think about it, you’re working two jobs—here all day and then your usual work at home. I don’t know how you’re able to do it all.”

“I just keep going from the time I get up in the morning until I go to bed at night,” she said, exhaling.

“Is it getting to be too much?” Helen asked.

“I can manage. I mean, before, with the boys in school all day, I felt like I wasn’t doing anything important. What does it matter, really, if you have a spotless house? This work is so much more important. I just don’t care anymore if my furniture is a little dusty or there are streaks on my windows or the kitchen floor isn’t perfectly waxed. I want to help win the war.”

“That’s how I tried to explain it to Dirk’s father,” Rosa said.

“Why should I waste my time cleaning all day when I can make ships to help Dirk and all the other boys? Wolter Voorhees can’t understand that there’s no such thing as men’s work and women’s work in times like these.”

“How are things going with Dirk’s parents?” Jean asked.

“They’re still mad at me, even though I stayed home like a good little girl last weekend and twiddled my thumbs.” She jammed the lid onto her Thermos, as if to emphasize her point, and gave it a twist. “I’ll tell you what, though: I was so bored I wanted to cry.”

“Where is your husband stationed again?” Helen asked.

“Virginia. He’ll finish his Navy Corpsman training in March, then he’ll probably be shipped overseas to North Africa or the Pacific. I get scared just thinking about it.”

“My sister Patty’s husband is fighting in Algeria,” Jean said. “She doesn’t talk about it much but I know she worries about him. We also have five brothers who are scattered all over the place in three branches of the service. Every time we hear a news bulletin we’re reminded of one of them.”

“Your poor mother,” Ginny said. “I only have two sons, but I know how I would feel if they were stationed overseas.”

“That’s a very large family with five boys and two girls,” Helen said.

“That’s not even half of us!” Jean laughed. “There are twelve boys and six girls altogether.”

“Holy smokes!” Rosa said. “Eighteen children? Are any of them twins?”

“Just my brother Johnny and me. He’s in the air force. My brother Dan was at Pearl Harbor when it was attacked, and now he’s out in the Pacific somewhere. Peter is stationed in Iceland, Rudy is in New Guinea, and Roy’s latest transfer was to Monterey, California.”

“Your poor mother!” Rosa said, shaking her head. “How did she cope with all them kids?”

“She loved and welcomed every one of us into the world. If anyone asks her about having so many children, she always says, ‘There are so many things that are worse than having children.”’

“That’s beautiful,” Ginny said. “I’d have as many children as I could, too, if it were up to me.”

“We came one right after the other,” Jean said, “from the time Ma got married at age eighteen until the youngest was born seven years ago. My oldest sister is twenty-nine.”

“Your mother must have had remarkably healthy babies,” Helen said. “My mother gave birth to seven children, but I’m the only one who survived to outlive her.”

“Oh, Helen! You really are all alone.” Ginny caressed her shoulder in sympathy.

“Don’t you have to wonder sometimes why God gives eighteen kids to one mom and only one to another?” Rosa asked.

Helen slammed the lid of her lunchbox with a bang. “I stopped trying to figure out God a long time ago,” she said.

Helen’s bitter tone surprised Ginny. She was even more surprised a moment later when Helen added angrily, “And I certainly don’t understand why God allowed the disgusting Germans to throw the entire world into turmoil for a second time. We should have done away with every last German after the Great War.”

Ginny could only stare at Helen in surprise. She had practically spit out the word
German
. “I was only ten years old when that war ended,” Ginny said, “so my memories of it are vague. I had two uncles who fought, and I remember seeing them in their uniforms—”

Ginny stopped. Helen was at least fifteen years older than she was. Maybe she had lost someone dear to her in the war. Ginny was trying to think of a delicate way to ask when Mr. Seaborn strode up to their table, interrupting them.

“I came to warn you ladies so you won’t get nervous. We’ve got some army people coming to tour this place after lunch to see how things are going. Just ignore them and keep working. They’re evaluating the management end of things, not the workers.”

“Don’t worry, we won’t let them
intimidate
us,” Ginny said. “After all, they’re just people doing their job the same as we are, right, girls?”

Later that afternoon, Ginny glanced up briefly when she saw Mr. Seaborn leading a group of men in uniforms and dark suits up and down the production line. She returned to her work on the ship’s deck, fifteen feet above the factory floor, concentrating on an especially tricky wiring job. Suddenly she heard a familiar voice speaking her name in utter astonishment.

“Virginia … ?”

She looked up from her work, her heart pounding. Harold stood at the foot of the ladder below her, staring wide-eyed. Fear surged through her like a jolt of electricity.

“Virginia?” he repeated breathlessly.

The screwdriver slipped from her limp hand. She felt boneless.

“You know him?” Rosa whispered.

“M-my husband.”

“Oh boy! The jig is up,” Rosa breathed. “Just stand your ground, Ginny. You’ll be fine.” She patted Ginny’s back.

She wasn’t fine. Ginny watched in horror as Harold climbed three rungs of the stepladder, looking up at her in disbelief. Mr. Seaborn and the other men watched from a distance. It seemed as though everyone in the entire factory was staring. She’d never felt more
intimidated
in her life. Her hands shook so badly she couldn’t even pretend to work.

“What are you doing here?” Harold asked.

“She’s screwing this gauge to the console,” Rosa told him. “It’s the oil-pressure gauge.”

“But … but that’s impossible!”

“Yeah, it’s tricky until you get the hang of it,” Rosa chattered on. “But Ginny does it the best of any of us. Right, Jean?”

“Virginia, answer me!” Harold said. “What are you doing here?”

“I’m working … like Rosa said. I … I can’t talk to you right now, I have work to do. And so do you.” She turned away and sank down as low as she could, wishing she could disappear entirely. Tears blurred her eyes. She had to fold her hands into fists to control the shaking.

“Hey, he really is good-looking,” Rosa whispered. “For an older guy, that is.”

“Is he still there?” Ginny asked.

“No, he went back with the others. He’s gone.”

Gone
. The word shuddered through Ginny as if echoing through an empty room. Harold was gone. She covered her face to hide her tears. Her stomach rolled as if the ship she was on had been launched into a hurricane. Her thoughts were as jumbled as the wires that she labored to connect, and she had to rush to the ladies’ room twice, afraid she might lose her lunch. Good thing her shift was nearly over because she couldn’t concentrate on her work. Jean seemed to understand and didn’t pressure her.

Harold had seen her here, working!

He was every bit as handsome as Rosa had said, with his dark hair and square, dimpled chin. Ginny loved him, and now she was going to lose him, just as she’d always feared. She couldn’t remember why she had ever taken this job.

“You poor girl. Can I do anything to help?” Rosa asked as they punched the time clock at the end of their shift. “Want me to come home with you in case he decides to slug it out with you?”

“We don’t fight that way, Rosa. But thanks.”

No, Harold fought with cold disapproval, withdrawing his love and tossing barbed, angry words at her. In many ways it was crueler than fists.

Ginny started cooking pork chops and macaroni and cheese for dinner as soon as she got home. Harold arrived two hours later, walking past her as if she were invisible. He didn’t speak a word to her during the meal. The boys seemed to feel the tension and picked at their food. Ginny couldn’t force down a single bite.

She stayed in the kitchen all evening, waiting like a condemned prisoner on death row. Harold wouldn’t discuss things until the boys were asleep, determined not to let them overhear their parents arguing. Even then he wouldn’t raise his voice. She wondered if she should get out the two ticket stubs she’d found in his pocket and ask him about them. She decided that she really didn’t want to know the truth.

In the meantime he was snubbing her. Ginny wondered briefly if there was a more sophisticated word she could use in place of
snub
, but she was much too upset to worry about her vocabulary. After two and a half months she was only beginning to understand why she had needed to work at the shipyard and why she had taken the job in the first place. She could never explain her reasons to Harold, even if she had an entire dictionary full of words.

She returned to the kitchen after putting the boys to bed, knowing that Harold would come out and speak with her when he was ready. She found herself praying as she swept the kitchen floor,
Please, God, I don’t want to lose him. …
Then she wondered if the terrible fear she felt was what Rosa and Jean and all the other women whose loved ones were in the military felt every day of their lives.

At last Harold rose from his chair in the living room to stand in the kitchen doorway. He had his arms folded across his chest.

“I have never been so mortified in my life,” he said quietly.