A Woman's Place (15 page)

Ginny was trembling from head to toe. She forced her gaze to meet his. “Why?”

“
Why?
What a humiliating way for me to find out about your secret life!”

“I tried to tell you that I’ve been working at the shipyard—dozens of times. You were always too busy or you weren’t really listening to me. You were
aloof
, Harold.”

“How long has this been going on?”

“I started training at the shipyard last September, right after the boys started school, and I’ve been working as an electrician for two and a half months now.”

“Well, whatever your little game is, Virginia, it’s over. You’re quitting tomorrow.”

She slowly shook her head. “No.” She spoke the word softly, and her voice shook, but she meant it.

“What do you mean, ‘no’?”

“I don’t want to quit. I … I’m not going to quit. And it’s not a game.”

“I won’t have you working in a shipyard, of all places. You’re a wife and a mother.
My
wife! You have responsibilities here—responsibilities that you’ve obviously been shirking. No wonder things have been slipping around here. No wonder you’re doing the ironing and sweeping at all hours of the night, and there’s no supper on the table when I get home.”

“You still have plenty of clean clothes to wear, and all your meals are—”

“What about the boys? What have you been doing with them while you’re running off to work?”

“They’ve been getting themselves to school in the morning. They’re fine without me for twenty minutes before I get home. You’re always telling me I smother them.”

“What about Christmas vacation next month? Are you planning on leaving them here alone all day?”

“I … I’ll work something out.” But Ginny hadn’t thought that far ahead, and at the moment she had no idea what she would do. Harold wasn’t listening anyway.

“I’ve worked hard to establish a reputation in this community,” he told her. “I won’t have my wife tarnishing it by working like a common laborer. A shipyard is no place for a woman. The work is too heavy, too dirty, too dangerous for a woman.”

“Have you bothered to look at any of the assembly lines in all of those factories you visit? I’ll bet more than half of the workers are women. In fact, I work right alongside Allan’s second-grade teacher, Helen Kimball.” He stared at her as if she were talking nonsense.

“Helen Kimball isn’t my wife. You are. I don’t want you near all those coarse men, hearing their foul language. Why would you do such a stupid thing without consulting me first?”

“Because I knew what you would say—the same things you’re saying now. But I needed to do something that matters. I’m bored and lonely and I hate staying home all day, ironing your shirts and making your supper and getting nothing in return but a peck on the cheek—not even a word of thanks, Harold!”

“Nobody thanks me for all the work I do.” She groaned in frustration and turned away. “I’m not finished, Virginia. And don’t think you can turn on the waterworks and get me to change my mind.”

“I wouldn’t dream of it.” Ginny was too angry to cry. She had never argued with Harold this way, had never contradicted him in her life. She had lived to please him, in fact. But she was tired of being afraid of him. Intimidated by him. They should be a team, like the girls at work, not servant and master. She thought of her new friends and summoned courage from them: from Helen Kimball, starting a new job at her age; from Rosa, leaving her home in Brooklyn to move in with strangers; and most of all from Jean, so young yet knowing exactly what she wanted in life. Ginny was tired of walking on egg-shells around her husband, working so hard to please him when he never made a single move to try to please her. Enough was enough.

“Well, I’m not going to change my mind, either,” she said, speaking with quiet conviction. “I’m going to continue working at Stockton Shipyard.”

He stared at her in astonishment. “What has gotten into you, Virginia?”

“My name is Ginny! I’ve told you a hundred times that I want to be called Ginny, not Virginia! Why don’t you ever listen to me?”

“Are you having a nervous breakdown? Should I call the doctor?”

“Listen to me! I make thirty dollars a week, Harold. For the first time in my life I have money to spend that didn’t come from you or from my father. I earned it myself. Do you have any idea how good that feels? Do you want to know what I’ve been spending it on? Last week I bought the roast beef that we had for Sunday dinner. I bought Allan a new pair of shoes for school, and I bought the new lipstick that I’m wearing—that you never even noticed!”

“That’s my point, Virginia—”

“It’s
Ginny
!”

He made a face to show his exasperation. “I’ve worked hard to make sure that no wife of mine would ever have to work—especially in a place like that. I make a good living. I’m well able to support my family.”

“I don’t
have
to work, Harold—I
want
to work! Why can’t you understand that? I need to know that there’s more to Ginny Mitchell than just somebody’s wife or mother.”

“Where are you getting these foolish ideas?”

“They are not
injudicious
ideas. Look here …” She pulled the newspaper article out of the drawer and pointed to the headline. “It says, ‘Millions of Women Must Be Shifted to War Work.’ I’m one of them.”

“You’re being ridiculous. That’s meant for other women, not you.”

“Why not me?”

“Because you have a family!”

“You mean the two sons that I’m not supposed to mother anymore? They’re the reason I can’t quit? What sort of a future will they face if the Nazis and the Japanese aren’t stopped? I listen to world events and I feel threatened and helpless. The attack on Pearl Harbor seemed so close! Most of Europe has been conquered, the Japanese have overrun the Pacific—and I’m sitting home dusting the furniture? Collecting tin cans and cooking fat?”

“It’s a man’s job to protect his wife and family. That’s why I’m working so hard to get the factories up and running, making arms and ammunition.”

“I want to help, too. I want to do something to win back the life we had, to make the world safe for our sons so they never have to fight in a war.”

“You’re a God-fearing woman, Vir—” He caught himself, but she knew he was about to say
Virginia
. “You know that the husband is supposed to be the head of the household. I want you to quit this job tomorrow and put our home back in order. That’s all I’m going to say about it. I’m going to bed.” He turned off the radio on his way through the living room and stomped upstairs.

Ginny didn’t know what to do. He had ordered her to quit, and she didn’t want to. She was so frustrated and angry with Harold that for the first time in their married life she slept on the couch instead of with him. It was also the first time in her married life that she had ever defied him. She cried herself to sleep.

The next morning she was up before he was, her clothes wrinkled from sleeping in them all night. She was standing at the stove scrambling eggs when Harold came downstairs dressed in his suit and tie. He sat down at the table and ate in silence. Dark circles rimmed his eyes, and she wondered if he had slept as poorly as she had. When he finished eating and stood to leave, she turned to face him.

“I love you, Harold.”

He closed his eyes for a moment. “Then do what I’ve asked, Ginny. Give up this ridiculous idea and get our household and our family back in order.”

“Do you love me?” she asked shakily.

“Of course I do.”

Tears of relief filled her eyes. She wrapped her arms around him, hugging him tightly, resting her head on his chest. After a moment his arms circled her, stiffly at first. But she snuggled against him and felt him relax.

“I have to go to work,” he said with a sigh.

“Wait.” She didn’t release her hold on him. “If you love me, then my happiness should be important to you. And working at the shipyard makes me happy.”

“That works two ways,” he said coldly. He peeled her arms away and freed himself. “Isn’t my happiness important to you, Virginia?” He jammed his hat onto his head and stalked out.

CHAPTER 14

*   
Jean
   *

Jean rose earlier than usual for work the next morning, certain that she would have to take time out to see the personnel director, Mr. Wire, and ask him to replace Virginia Mitchell. Jean changed into her coveralls in the locker room, punched her time card, and was reading the day’s work orders on her clipboard when Earl Seaborn called her aside.

“You got a minute, Jean? I was wondering what was going on yesterday between one of your electricians and that government engineer? I couldn’t hear what they were saying.”

“Mr. Mitchell is Ginny’s husband.”

“So? What’s the problem?”

“He didn’t know she worked here until he saw her yesterday.”

“Oh boy. I can imagine what that did to his pride, finding out that way.” Earl’s insight surprised Jean. He had zeroed in on the problem in seconds—pride. “You think Mr. Mitchell will cause problems for her?” Earl asked.

“Yeah, I do. He’s evidently one of those husbands who thinks a woman’s place is in the home. I sure would hate to lose Ginny, but I have a bad feeling that he isn’t going to let her come back to work.”

“Mr. Mitchell is going to be observing here for a few more days. How about if you and I go talk to him?”

“You would be willing to do that, Earl?”

“Sure. Come on.”

They found Harold Mitchell pacing outside Earl’s cubicle, clipboard in hand, waiting for everyone else to arrive. He glanced noticeably at his watch as Jean and Earl approached, as if silently rebuking Earl for not being in his office on time. Jean agreed with Rosa that Mr. Mitchell was handsome, yet his somber, unsmiling expression marred his good looks. He might have been carrying the weight of the world on his shoulders. His unapproachable manner was such a stark contrast to Ginny’s warm, tender heart that Jean wondered what had drawn them to each other. Maybe it really was true that opposites attracted like the poles of a magnet.

“Mr. Mitchell, could we have a word with you?” Earl gestured to his cubicle, and the three of them entered the tiny room. Earl closed the door, shutting out some of the noise. He nodded to Jean to begin.

“It’s about Ginny—”

Mr. Mitchell held up his hand to stop her. “Excuse me, but my wife and my personal life are nobody’s business but mine.”

His words were so cold and abrupt that Jean felt as if he’d slapped her. She knew then that they weren’t going to get through to him. They may as well leave. But she had underestimated Earl.

“You’re right, Mr. Mitchell, your personal life isn’t our business,” he said calmly. “But Mrs. Mitchell is my employee, and—”

“She shouldn’t be. Virginia never should have taken this job in the first place.”

“I disagree. You’re in a better position than anyone to know the importance of production schedules and what happens when quotas aren’t met. The truth is, America can’t hope to keep up with the demand for arms and equipment unless women step up and take the jobs that men have vacated.”

“A shipyard is no place for a woman,” Mitchell said. “This is men’s work.”

Earl kept his composure, refusing to back down. “That was the thinking in the past, I know. But women like your wife and my colleague, Jean Erickson, have shown that they are quite capable of doing so-called men’s work—and they do it very well. We have women welders and mechanics—and women electricians, like your wife.”

Jean could tell by Mitchell’s glaring, tight-lipped expression that his mind was firmly closed. “Are you finished?” he asked coldly.

Earl shook his head. “No, sir, I’m not. The government hired you to come here and make sure this shipyard runs at full production, right? You know how important it is to finish enough landing craft for the invasion of Europe when it comes. Well, I’m telling you that if your wife quits, our production schedule is going to suffer.”

Jean finally found her voice and jumped in to help him. “Ginny is one of our best electricians. She knows her job and does it exceptionally well. It would take me weeks to train her replacement—if I could even find one.”

“That’s right,” Earl added. “We have a dozen other vacant positions waiting to be filled. This war won’t last forever, Mr. Mitchell. The sooner it’s over, the sooner things can go back to the way they were and you can have your wife back.”

“Ginny doesn’t want to do this work for the rest of her life,” Jean said. “But we really could use her help for the duration.”

Mr. Mitchell stared at them in icy silence until Jean grew very uncomfortable. “Now we’re finished,” she said. He opened the door and walked out.

“I’d better go catch up with him,” Earl said.

“Earl, wait. I hope he doesn’t take it out on you for speaking up.”

“There’s nothing much I can do about it if he does,” he said with a shrug, “except let it roll off. I really don’t care if he likes me or not.”

“At least we tried.”

Earl smiled mischievously. “Oh, I’m not done trying. I’ve just begun. I plan to point out all of our finest female workers to him today—welders, mechanics, carpenters, maintenance workers, painters. If he’s going to hang around me for a couple of days, he’s going to get a front-row seat to my lecture on what a great job women war workers are doing.”

Jean couldn’t help smiling in return. “Thanks for being willing to stick your neck out. It’s awfully nice of you.”

Jean walked across the vast expanse of factory floor, dodging around workers and tool chests and ships in various stages of construction. When she finally reached her workstation, there was Ginny, wearing her coveralls and tool belt, ready to go to work. She looked tired and shaken, but she was here. Helen and Rosa hurried over to talk with her, too.

“Hey, no black eyes?” Rosa asked. “Your husband sure looked mad yesterday. I thought for sure he would beat you up or something when you got home.”

“If he ever tries it, Ginny, call the police,” Jean said. “Men aren’t supposed to beat up women.”

“Some of the men in my mother’s life didn’t think twice about beating on her,” Rosa said with a shrug.

“I’m surprised he didn’t tell you to quit,” Helen said.

“He did,” Ginny said quietly. “I took your advice and made up my own mind. That’s why I’m here.”

“Is he okay with that?” Rosa asked.

“No. He’s very angry with me. I … I don’t know what’s going to happen … .”

Jean could see how scared Ginny was, how close to tears. “Let’s get to work,” she said. “Let’s show these government inspectors what we can do.” She assigned everyone a task and ended up working alongside Rosa all morning.

“I learned something today,” Jean told her. “I never want to marry a husband like Harold Mitchell.”

“Yeah, some men think they own their wife.”

“My father never treated my mother that way, so I guess I assumed all husbands were like him. Now I’m starting to wonder what kind of husband Russ will be.”

“How’s things going with him, anyways?”

“I don’t know. When he was here, I sort of told him that I would try to come home and look for a job. It was in the heat of the moment, I guess you could say. But I don’t really want to quit, Rosa. So now I’m wondering how he’ll react if I change my mind and stay here at the shipyard.”

“If he makes you choose between him and your job, what are you gonna do?”

Jean shrugged in reply, concentrating on the wire she was connecting.

“Boy, I’m sure glad that Dirk didn’t tell me to quit, ’cause I wouldn’t of done it.”

Jean looked up from her work and gazed down the long production line for a moment, deep in thought. “When we were talking to Ginny’s husband this morning, Earl said that life would go back to normal when the war ended—but I don’t see how it ever could. Ginny’s life as a housewife will never be the same now that she’s gained self-confidence working here. And I sure don’t want to be a housewife after the war.”

“But what else is there?” Rosa asked. “All the men are gonna want their jobs back when they come home, right? And you don’t want to be all alone like Helen, do you? With no husband?”

“I want to go to college and have a career first, but of course I want to get married someday. Some of the men around here call me ugly names, implying that I want to be a man—I don’t! I like being a woman. But why does life have to be so confusing for us?”

When their shift ended and it was time to go home, Jean pulled Ginny aside on her way out. “If there’s anything I can do to help, please let me know,” she told her.

“Well, I might have another problem in a few weeks… .” Ginny sounded dazed and numb. Her husband hadn’t beaten her physically, but she seemed beaten down nonetheless, her newfound confidence bruised.

“What’s wrong, Ginny?”

“The boys will be getting out of school for Christmas vacation in December. Harold asked me last night what I planned to do about them, and I didn’t know what to say. I know they can’t stay home alone all day. I’m going to need a baby-sitter, but we don’t have any relatives who live close enough to help.”

“Do you want me to ask my sister Patty if she’ll watch them? She could use a little extra spending money at Christmastime. And she loves kids.”

“Would she do that for me? Doesn’t she have some little ones of her own?”

“Three of them. But Patty handled ten or eleven younger siblings when we were growing up, so I’m sure she can handle your two boys.”

“I’d be so grateful, Jean.”

“I’ll ask her and let you know tomorrow.”

Jean walked outside to a cold, gray afternoon and falling snow. It already covered the grass and had begun to accumulate on the streets and sidewalks. She waited at the bus stop with dozens of other women, finally giving in to the blustery weather and paying the bus fare rather than walking home. She had promised Patty that she would stop at the grocery store to pick up a few items, so she got off in downtown Stockton and crossed the street to the A&P.

The store was crowded as usual at this time of day, with other working women like herself hurrying to get their shopping done before the supper hour. Jean wished the store would stay open later now that so many women worked. But judging by the Help Wanted sign that had hung in the storefront window for weeks, the A&P was probably too shorthanded to extend their hours. Everyone knew you could make more money at the shipyard than as a store clerk.

Jean quickly perused the crowded aisles and found all the items on her list. As she stood in line at the register, she heard a familiar voice behind her. “Hey, Jean, have you figured out how these stupid ration books work?” She turned to see Earl Seaborn in line behind her, a book of ration stamps in one hand and a pile of groceries expertly balanced between his crippled left arm and his chin.

“I don’t have a clue. I’m just going to hand my ration book to the clerk and let her figure it out. My sister Patty usually does all the shopping. I offered to help her today because the weather was so nasty and the baby has a cold. By the way, how did it go with Mr. Mitchell today?” Earl grinned. “If looks could kill, I’d be a dead man. I think he figured out my not-so-subtle sales pitch for women workers in about two minutes. That didn’t stop me, of course. And unless he’s more stubborn than I thought, he couldn’t help but admire the beautiful seams some of our female welders showed him.”

“Do you think it made a dent in his thinking?”

“Probably not. He’d better change his attitude, though, because things aren’t going to be the same after the war. It’s obvious that women are capable of doing the same work as men. And it’s obvious that they deserve fair treatment and fair pay—not to mention respect.”

“True, but change comes slowly, Earl. After we talked to him this morning, I realized that women have only been allowed to vote for twenty-two years. That’s not a very long time. There are probably a lot of husbands like Ginny’s who still haven’t adjusted to women being allowed to vote, let alone taking over men’s jobs. Those guys are going to want things to go back to the way they were after the war.”

“Does that include your boyfriend? Is he going to want to settle down and get married to a traditional wife after the war?”

Jean looked away, unable to meet Earl’s gaze. She had wondered the same thing just this morning while talking to Rosa. “Russ and I are too young to talk about marriage. Besides, he knows that I plan on going to college.”

The line moved forward, and Jean placed her handful of items on the counter, making space for Earl to set down his items, too. He unloaded them smoothly, obviously used to his one-handed balancing act.

“Don’t you want children?” he asked her.

“Of course I do—someday. I just don’t want them now. And I don’t want eighteen of them like my mother. What about you, Earl? What are your plans after the war? Marriage? Kids?”

“I’d like to get married, but I doubt if I ever will. Not too many women are on the lookout for a crippled husband.”

“Listen, Earl—”

“I’m not feeling sorry for myself, just facing facts. Who wants to wake up in the morning beside a man with a withered hand and a leg brace?”

Jean had noticed that he kept his left hand in his pocket nearly all of the time. She couldn’t say whether his withered hand repulsed her or not because she’d never taken a good look at it, not wanting to stare. But she wasn’t going to let him get away with such a pessimistic attitude.

“What about all the men who will lose limbs in the war?” she asked. “I’m sure that the women who love them will stand by them no matter what.”

Earl shook his head. “Some women say they’ll stand by their man and they mean it. Most change their tune when they’re faced with the reality of it. The truth is, a lot of marriages aren’t going to survive the war. A lot of people can’t handle anything less than perfection.”

As Jean handed her ration book to the clerk and paid for her groceries, she remembered comparing Earl to Russell and judging Earl unfavorably. Was she the kind of shallow woman he was talking about?

It was almost dark and snowing hard when Jean walked out of the store. She stood on the sidewalk for a moment, trying to decide whether to spend more money on another bus fare or walk home and get her feet wet. Earl came up behind her once again.