A Woman's Place (18 page)

“I already have. I can’t bear to see you suffering anymore. It will be easier for both of us if I leave town.”

“No, it won’t!” She fought against his grip, furious with him, desperate to make him change his mind. “I can’t live without you!”

“Yes, you can,” he said softly. Tears shone in his dark eyes. “You’re more vibrant and alive than any woman I’ve ever met. Don’t you know that’s the reason I fell in love with you?”

She finally broke free and threw herself into his arms, pleading with him, begging him to change his mind. He didn’t reply. Tears rolled silently down his face. Helen took his face in her hands and kissed him, certain that the force of her love would convince him to stay. But when their lips finally parted, he freed himself and held her at arm’s length again.

“This is the hardest thing I’ve ever done in my life. I love you, Helen Kimball. Don’t ever forget that. But it’s time to say good-bye.”

“Jimmy, please don’t leave me!”

“I have to,” he whispered. “Good-bye.”

It was as if the sun had set on that Wednesday night and had never risen again. Helen lived each day in a haze of grief, willing herself to stop thinking of him, to stop feeling such terrible pain, to stop living.

A month later, Helen’s father hosted a lavish party to announce her engagement to Albert Jenkins. The mansion glowed with lights, and the ballroom came alive with whirling guests and elegant music. They set a date for the wedding and toasted their future with champagne.

Helen resigned from her job at the library, presumably to make wedding plans, but the truth was that she couldn’t control her grief each time the door opened on Wednesday night and someone other than Jimmy Bernard walked through it.

Now, as she sat in her car twenty-five years later, she saw the lights in the library shutting off. It was closing time. Helen had been sitting here for nearly an hour. The bank would be closed by now, as well.

Jean Erickson had asked all the women at work how to reach a decision, but Helen realized that she didn’t have an answer for her. Helen hadn’t been the one who’d made the decision years ago. Jimmy had made it for her. Maybe the answer was that we don’t always get to choose. Maybe life or God or other people do all the deciding for us.

She drove home to her huge, empty house and all the worthless wealth her father had left her. Back to a life without love, without Jimmy.

CHAPTER 16

*   
Rosa
   *

Rosa didn’t need to see a clock to know that her shift at the factory was nearly over. She could always tell by how tired everyone looked, especially Helen, as the afternoon dragged on. Rosa would begin to feel a sense of anticipation, wondering if there would be a letter from Dirk waiting for her at home. Today she and the others were just finishing up and putting away their tools when Mr. Seaborn came over to their workstation. He was usually so cheerful with his boyish grin, but one look at his face and Rosa could tell that something was wrong.

“You look like you bet a week’s pay on a losing horse,” she told him.

“I’m afraid I have some very sad news. Mr. Wire, our personnel manager, just found out last evening that his son Larry was killed in action in Guadalcanal.”

“Oh no!” Ginny cried. “How awful! That poor man.”

“Larry Wire was once a student of mine,” Helen said. “He was such a bright boy. It doesn’t seem possible that he’s gone. What a tragedy.” Her words sounded prim, but when Rosa looked at her face, she thought she saw pain in Helen’s eyes.

“Do you have any information about a memorial service?” Jean asked. “I’d like to attend. And maybe we could all pitch in to send him flowers or something.”

“I’ll let you know as soon as I hear,” Mr. Seaborn promised.

The ladies talked about it some more as Helen drove them home. “If all of us are planning to attend the memorial service, maybe we could go together,” Ginny said. “After all, Mr. Wire hired all of us at the same time.”

“Yeah, I want to go, too,” Rosa said. “Mr. Wire was real nice to me the day he hired me. And he was so proud of his son. Him and Dirk were friends. They played baseball together and everything.” She had to stop before she choked up. Even though Rosa had never met Larry Wire, his death seemed too close to home. If it could happen to Dirk’s friend, it could happen to Dirk.

The snow was falling steadily when Helen dropped Rosa off at home. “I seen more snow during my first winter here than in all the years I lived in Brooklyn,” she complained.

“And this is only February,” Helen reminded her. “There will be plenty more of it before spring arrives. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

“Yeah, thanks for the lift.” Rosa stepped out of the car into a deep drift. Between the lousy weather and the sad news about Larry Wire, she felt pretty blue as she shuffled up to the house. She sure could use a drink to cheer herself up. She missed Dirk so much she ached inside. Maybe there would be a letter from him.

Tena Voorhees was waiting by the kitchen door to greet her. “There you are! I have a little snack all ready for you and I just made a pot of tea.” Tena always seemed so happy, as if she had a bottle of hooch hidden away to keep herself going. Dirk must have gotten his smile and cheerful disposition from his mother. “How was your day?” Tena asked.

“Sad,” Rosa said, remembering. She set her lunchbox in the kitchen sink. “We got some bad news today. Our boss, Mr. Wire, found out that his son was killed.”

“Not Larry Wire? He was a friend of Dirk’s.”

“Yeah, that’s the one. Mr. Wire told me he played ball with Dirk. He was a marine.” Rosa got a lump in her throat again just thinking about it. Tena had tears in her eyes, too. Her smile had disappeared.

“Dirk will be so sorry to hear it.”

“Do we have to tell him?” Rosa asked. “I mean, I don’t want him getting depressed or anything.”

“I think it would be better if he knew, don’t you, Rosa? I’ll tell him the next time I write to him. And I can send him the newspaper article. It’s sure to be in the paper. There have only been a handful of boys from Stockton who have died, but the newspaper always puts their pictures on the front page.”

“Doesn’t it scare you?” Rosa asked in a hushed voice. “I mean … to think about it happening … to Dirk?”

“Yes. Yes, it does. Oh, Rosa!” Tena pulled Rosa into her arms, holding her tightly. Rosa hugged her in return as if hanging on for dear life. Maybe Tena needed to be held as much as Rosa did. And maybe she was just as scared for Dirk as Rosa was, in spite of everything Mr. Voorhees said about Dirk being in God’s hands.

A moment later they released each other. Tena dried her eyes on her apron, and Rosa sat down at the table to eat the applesauce cake that was waiting for her.

“Before I forget,” Tena said, “you got a letter from New York today.”

“New York? Wasn’t there one from Dirk?”

“No, not today. I’m sorry.”

“Why’re you apologizing? It’s not like it’s your fault or anything.”

Tena handed the envelope to her, and Rosa saw immediately by the handwriting that it was from her mother. Rosa had written to Mona last fall to tell her she’d arrived safely, but she had never heard a word in reply until now. The letter was brief, one paragraph. The gist of it was that Mona’s boyfriend had moved out, so Rosa could return home if she wanted to.

Rosa looked up from the letter as she ate the last bite of cake, gazing around at her husband’s boyhood home. It still felt strange to be here in this spotless house. She didn’t belong. Now was her chance to get out of Stockton, away from Dirk’s parents and their stupid rules. If she returned to New York she could have fun again. Go to dances and parties.

“I hope it isn’t more bad news,” Tena said as she poured Rosa another cup of tea.

“No, it’s from my mother.”

“She must miss you,” Tena sighed.

“Yeah, I guess.” But if Mona missed Rosa, she hadn’t said so. More likely, she couldn’t afford to pay the rent all by herself now that her boyfriend was gone. Rosa stuffed the letter back into the envelope and pushed her chair away from the table.

“Rosa, wait. I have a little favor to ask of you. I am hosting the Ladies’ Missionary Society here at our house tomorrow night. We decided to meet in people’s homes during the winter months to save money. That way, we won’t have to heat the great big church hall, you see? And so the meeting is here at our house this month. I thought I would make some cake for refreshments, and maybe some punch to drink because coffee is so hard to get and so is sugar …”

She seemed to be rambling on and on. What did she want from Rosa? Tena finally came to the point.

“I was just wondering … If you aren’t busy tomorrow night, could you help me? Wolter is going to make himself scarce for a few hours, and I could really use your help serving the punch and things. I know you don’t enjoy the meetings at church very much, but this is a little different since it will be here … .”

“Yeah, sure. I’ll help you.”

Rosa didn’t know why she had agreed. She’d only been to one meeting of the Missionary Society, and it had bored her to tears. Maybe it was Tena’s kindness with the cake and tea every afternoon. Or maybe it was the hug they had shared. For a few brief moments Rosa had felt something from her mother-in-law that she had never felt from Mona. Even in her letter Mona seemed to have an ulterior motive for inviting Rosa to come home. She wished her mother was like Dirk’s mom, but Rosa knew better than to hope Mona would change.

“Thank you so much, Rosa. I know the other ladies are eager to get to know you better—”

“Get to know me!”

“Why, yes. You’re our Dirk’s wife. And this will be a wonderful way to do it.”

Getting to know her hadn’t been part of the bargain. Rosa had only agreed to serve punch and cake, not get all cozy with everyone. She hurried off to her room, and the more she thought about tomorrow night’s meeting, the more scared she felt. Why had she said yes? It was a stupid idea. If the other ladies ever did get to know her—the real her—they would die of shock.

The afternoon suddenly seemed dark and depressing again. Rosa needed a drink. To make matters worse, when Wolter arrived home he was waving a copy of the newspaper with a picture of Larry Wire on the front page. Larry looked so happy and carefree, smiling as he posed in his marine uniform. Rosa could easily picture him and Dirk as teammates, buddies.

All evening long, Rosa felt so antsy she could have climbed straight up the wall, across the ceiling, and down the other side. If only Dirk had written a letter today. She knew he had stuff to learn and lots of work at the hospital to keep him busy. But if she worried about him this much when he wasn’t even in danger, what would it be like when they shipped him overseas?

The letter from her mother still nagged at her, too. Should Rosa move back to Brooklyn? She had saved up more than enough money for a train ticket, but she really liked her job and all the ladies she worked with. If only she knew what to do.

When the evening news report came on the radio, telling all about the war, Rosa could no longer stand being cooped up in the house. She leaped up from her chair.

“I gotta get some air.”

Wolter gave her a dark look as she grabbed her coat and boots from the closet. She knew what he was thinking.

“I won’t be long,” she said, staring back at him. He still hadn’t given her a key to the house. He could lock her out again if she stayed out too late—and he would do it, too.

Lively music blared from the Hoot Owl as Rosa approached, but she kept walking, resisting the urge to go inside. She wouldn’t hang out there anymore. She
wouldn’t
! But she needed a little something to calm her nerves after the day she’d had. She’d promised herself that she wouldn’t go to bars anymore and hang out with other men, but there was nothing stopping her from buying a little bottle of something and drinking it at home, was there? She had to cheer herself up somehow. Wolter would never even have to know. She hurried over to the liquor store on the next block.

“What can I do for you, sweetheart?” the proprietor asked. She was his only customer. Judging by his red nose and sagging belly, he looked like he sampled his own wares on a regular basis.

“I hear that vodka doesn’t leave a telltale smell on your breath. Is that true?” she asked.

“Sure is. You gonna drink it all alone, sweetheart? That would be a crying shame.”

Rosa had always enjoyed flirting with men. It was harmless fun, and she liked the attention. It would have cheered her up to have a few laughs with this old guy, but Larry Wire was dead and tonight she was afraid to tempt fate. What if God decided to punish her by taking Dirk?

“My husband is in the navy,” she said primly. “I plan on drinking alone until he comes home again.” She paid for the vodka and left. She knew she had done the right thing by not flirting, but it didn’t stop the loneliness.

She made herself a screwdriver when she got home. Tena always kept a bottle of orange juice in the refrigerator. Rosa sat in the living room with her in-laws, listening to the radio and sipping her drink until it finally helped her relax. But as bedtime approached she realized that she would have to find a place to hide the rest of the bottle. She had agreed to let Tena clean Dirk’s bedroom for her and change her bedsheets. Tena washed Rosa’s laundry every week, too, ironing it and folding it and putting it away in the closet and bureau drawers. Rosa couldn’t hide the bottle in any of those places.

After her second screwdriver—or was it her third?—Rosa decided to search the pantry for an empty bottle or jar to hide the rest of the vodka. She teetered out to the kitchen and looked around.

“Do you need something?” Tena called from the living room.

“Nope. Just rinsing out my glass.” She let the water run for a minute and tiptoed into the pantry.

A handful of empty canning jars stood on the shelf, but how would Rosa explain why she kept a jar of clear liquid in her room? Then Rosa saw Tena’s home-canned peaches floating in clear syrup and they gave her an idea. She took a jar from the shelf and carefully poured the syrup down the sink drain, then she refilled it with the vodka. If she drank a little more, the rest would fit in the jar perfectly with the peaches. She screwed the lid back on. Rosa could hide the empty vodka bottle in her coveralls and throw it away at work tomorrow.

But now another problem arose. How would she explain why she was keeping a jar of peaches in her room? It was so hard to think clearly after drinking all those screwdrivers, but Rosa finally decided to put the doctored peaches back on the pantry shelf behind all the others. She pulled a tube of lipstick out of her pocket and made a tiny red mark on the lid so she would know which jar was hers, then went to bed. It was the happiest she’d felt all day.

Rosa had a terrible headache the next morning when Helen picked her up for work. “You don’t look well,” Ginny said. “Do you feel okay?”

“I’m just tired.” Rosa decided not to tell them about the vodka, but she did want their advice about moving back to New York. “I got a letter from my mother yesterday. Her boyfriend moved out—you know, the guy who tried to make a pass at me? She said I could come back home and live with her again if I wanted to.”

“Do you want to?” Ginny asked.

“I don’t know. What do you guys think I should do?”

“I’m sure you must miss your mother,” Ginny said, caressing Rosa’s shoulder. “Have you asked Dirk what he thinks?”

“No, but he’ll probably want me to stay here. He wants me where it’s safe. He was really upset when they spotted that German submarine off the East Coast. And then they arrested those German spies outside New York, remember?”

“You haven’t talked much about Dirk’s parents lately,” Jean said. “How have you been getting along with them?”

Rosa thought of Tena’s embrace, the snacks waiting for her each day, her neatly laundered clothes. Then she remembered the stern look Mr. Voorhees had given her when she’d gone out last night.

“I don’t know,” she said with a shrug. “I still don’t feel like I belong there. Mr. Voorhees doesn’t say much, but he looks at me with daggers in his eyes—like I better not make one wrong move, or else. I like my job, though. I used to think about changing to the graveyard shift so I wouldn’t ever have to see him, but I like working with all of you gals.”

“We would miss you if you did decide to leave,” Ginny said. Jean nodded in agreement. Helen was watching the road and didn’t say anything.

“The thing that makes Mr. Voorhees the maddest is that he wants me to come to church—but I’d rather sleep in on Sunday. I usually go, but only because I’m afraid God will punish me and take Dirk away if I don’t.”