A Woman's Place (29 page)

“Maybe when I’m good enough. After I’ve changed a little more.”

“That’s not the way it works, Rosa. We’re welcome to come to Jesus the way we are. You don’t have to be good enough.”

“Can I ax—I mean
ask
you another question? Why is everything so tiny? They use those little-bitty cups with hardly a swallow of juice in it and those teeny-tiny crackers with no cheese or anything. Can’t they afford bigger ones? Is it because of the war?” She could tell that Jean was struggling not to laugh.

“They’re symbols, Rosa. They’re supposed to be small. It’s not like we’re having a meal or anything.”

“How long does it usually take for someone like me to learn the language?”

“What language?”

“You know, church language—the one that the Bible is written in? It’s almost like English, but it has some really strange words in it like
shalt
and
thine
and
dost
.”

“It
is
English.” Jean lowered her voice to a whisper as the service began. “Sort of old-fashioned English. I’m sure you’ll catch on.”

“There’s something else I always wondered about,” Rosa whispered back, “but I was afraid to ask Dirk’s mom. You know how they always have this confession thing? Is that like if you robbed a bank or you murdered someone, you’re supposed to come forward and confess? And will they arrest you, or are you immune or something because you’re in a church?” She could tell that Jean was trying not to laugh again. Rosa hadn’t meant to be funny.

“No, it isn’t that kind of confession. Honestly, Rosa, you think of the funniest things sometimes.”

“I was always kind of glad that no one stood up and confessed to something. I’d sure hate to be sitting here next to a murderer. But at least then I wouldn’t look so bad in comparison.”

“We’re all sinners, Rosa. We’re supposed to confess our sins silently and tell God about all the mistakes we’ve made this week.”

When it was time for the prayer of confession, Rosa was just getting started on all her mistakes when the pastor said, “Amen.”

“Hey, I wasn’t done,” she whispered to Jean. “Is that okay or should I keep going until I’m finished?”

“It’s okay to stop when he does.”

“I told you I was a lot worse than all of you. They didn’t give me nearly enough time.”

Rosa liked singing the songs, even though some of the words seemed to be in that old-fashioned English. She liked listening to the organ music, too. It sounded like heaven, especially when the choir sang along in their wobbling voices. It must be what angels sounded like. Then Rosa thought of another question.

“Why do they keep talking about a ghost with holes? Is this place haunted?” Jean had to clap her hand over her mouth to keep from laughing out loud.

“I’m going to need a lot of time to explain the Holy Ghost to you,” she whispered when she could control her giggles. “But don’t worry, the church isn’t haunted. Why don’t you write down all your other questions as you think of them, and I’ll try to answer them afterward.”

Rosa took out a pencil and scribbled questions on her church bulletin all through the service. By the time it ended, there was hardly any blank space left. As everyone filed from the sanctuary, Rosa saw Mrs. Voorhees searching for her. Mr. Voorhees was already heading toward the door.

“I gotta go,” she told Jean. “Dirk’s father wants his Sunday dinner right away. It’s always a big deal at their house. And that’s another thing I don’t understand—Dirk’s father says it’s a terrible sin to do any work on Sunday, yet he makes Tena cook a huge meal for him after church. They eat it in the dining room, no less. Tena says she loves to cook, but it still looks like a lot of work to me. Her and me wash the dishes afterward, and nobody in their right mind would say that washing dishes isn’t work.”

“Gosh, I don’t know the answer to that one, Rosa.”

“Well, what should I do with all these other questions?” she asked, waving her bulletin.

“Bring them to work tomorrow,” Jean said. “I promise I’ll try to answer them at lunch.”

Rosa went home from church determined to be good all week. She would do everything just right from now on so that God wouldn’t punish her by taking Dirk or her baby away. Her life was the best that it had ever been, except for Dirk being gone, and she was so afraid that she would do something to make God mad at her. She had heard the pastor say that Jesus was without sin and that people were supposed to be like Him, but Rosa knew she had a long, long way to go.

They were all sitting at the table, digging into the roast beef and mashed potatoes that Tena had made, when Mr. Voorhees cleared his throat as if about to make an important announcement.

“Tena has told me the news about … you know. You will be quitting your job now, right?”

“Wrong! I don’t see why I can’t work as long as my belly doesn’t get in the way.” She saw him draw back at the word
belly
as if she had uttered a curse word, but for the life of her she couldn’t understand why.

“It isn’t proper to continue working in your condition,” he said, scowling. “Women must stay at home when they are in a family way. There must be a proper period of confinement. They do not flaunt themselves in public.”

“Who says so? Is that in the Bible or something?” Rosa was trying really hard not to lose her temper, but she could tell that Mr. Voorhees was close to losing his.

“Decent society says so. How many women do you see walking around like that? And how many do you see working at the shipyard in such a condition? You would be very foolish—and very irresponsible—to continue working in such a dangerous place. You are carrying my son’s child, not just your own.”

His voice had grown louder and angrier in the course of his speech until he was practically shouting at her. He gripped his fork as if he might use it as a weapon.

“Would anyone like more carrots?” Mrs. Voorhees asked. Rosa could tell by her shaky voice and worried eyes that their argument upset her.
“Let his words roll off,”
Tena had advised, but Helen Kimball said not to allow people to use anger to get their own way. Rosa considered the two women and decided she would rather be strong and fearless like Helen instead of timid and mousy like her mother-in-law.

“Well, this baby is still inside of me, so that makes it mine! This is still a free country, and I got a right to do whatever I want. You’re not my boss!” She slid back her chair and stood. “And if that makes you mad, then it’s just too bad.” Rosa stalked off to her room.

“What about dinner?” Tena called after her.

“I’m not hungry.” She slammed the door.

Rosa felt good about standing up to Wolter for all of thirty seconds. That was how long it took to remember that she had promised God she would be good. She was so upset by her failure that she cursed out loud—then realized she had made matters worse! She would run out of time for sure next week when she confessed her sins—if she even went back to church, that is.

How did those sweet little churchwomen do it? How did they manage to sit still and not fight when their fathers-in-law bossed them all around? And how come they didn’t think of curse words every five minutes, much less say them out loud the way she did? Being religious was just too hard, Rosa decided. She would never be good enough. Why bother to try?

CHAPTER 24

July 1943

“Following Allied successes in the North African campaign,
American airborne troops and British paratroopers have launched
a surprise invasion of Sicily.”

* Jean *

Jean pulled a bandana out of the pocket of her coveralls and wiped the sweat out of her eyes for what seemed like the hundredth time. No matter how many fans blew nonstop throughout the building, the production line remained a very hot place to work. The humidity made her hair hang limp, and she gave up trying to style it, wearing it pulled back and tied in a ponytail. She noticed that Rosa had the opposite problem. Her wild, naturally curly hair frizzed up like a lion’s mane in the humid air, poking out from beneath the kerchief she wore on her head. It felt like an oven down in the hull of the ship where Jean and the other women worked. Her hands grew so sweaty she could barely hold a screwdriver or manipulate all of the fine wires and tiny screws.

“Let’s get out of this hothouse and take a break,” she finally told her crew. “We need to drink plenty of water to make up for all the sweat we’re losing. I don’t want anybody fainting on me.”

Helen, Rosa, and Ginny gladly climbed out of the hull and followed Jean to the water fountain, lining up behind several other workers waiting for a drink. They were talking about the war and the invasion of Sicily when Jean noticed an elderly Negro janitor staggering toward them. He stopped suddenly and leaned against the wall as if he was about to keel over.

“Are you all right?” Jean asked, hurrying over to him.

“This heat’s getting to me, I guess. As long as this wall don’t move, I’ll be okay. Give me a second.”

“You’d better take a drink of water and cool down.”

“Here, you can cut in line in front of me,” Helen said.

“I was heading over here for a drink, ma’am, but I see that my water fountain is out of order.” He gestured, and for the first time Jean noticed that there were two water fountains, ten feet apart, one marked Whites Only and the other marked Colored. The one that the Negroes used had an Out of Order sign on it.

“But you obviously need a drink,” Helen said. “I’m sure they’ll let you use this other one.”

The man’s eyes grew wide. “Oh no, ma’am. I ain’t allowed to do that.”

“Look, you’re about to faint,” Helen insisted. “At least let me get a glass and fill it up for you.” The janitor held up his hands as he began backing away.

“Thank you kindly, but there’s a sink over yonder in our colored bathroom. I’ll just head on over there. You ladies don’t need to trouble yourselves.”

“Hey! What’s the holdup?” someone in the back of the line shouted. “Come on, we’re thirsty, too!”

As Jean got back in line and waited her turn for a drink, she saw three other Negro maintenance workers approach, then turn away when they saw that their fountain was out of order. By the time she rejoined her crew, Jean was fuming.

“That’s just not right. The least they could do is put out a cup for that poor man and all of the others to use.”

“There’s a cup on my Thermos,” Ginny said. “I’ll be glad to go get it and put it out for them.”

“I doubt very much if any of the colored workers would use it,” Helen said. “Did you see how intimidated that poor man was? He seemed more worried about causing an inconvenience than fainting.”

“I have a better idea,” Jean said. “You all go back to work. I’m going to talk to Mr. Seaborn about this.”

“Tell him I’ll pay to have the fountain fixed myself,” Helen said.

Jean found Earl sitting in his cubicle with his shirtsleeves rolled up and his tie loosened. The small fan mounted near the ceiling did little more than push the stifling air around the room and rifle the papers on his desk. He looked up when he saw Jean and smiled. She quickly told him what she had just seen, then finished by saying, “They’re human beings, Earl. Surely the decent thing to do is to let everyone use the same drinking fountain until the other one is fixed.”

“You’re right. May I borrow your screwdriver?” Jean pulled one from her tool belt and followed Earl out of the cubicle. She watched in satisfaction as he took down the Whites Only and the Colored signs.

“Hey! What do you think you’re doing?” one of the men in line shouted.

“We can certainly share our water with our fellow workers until both fountains are working,” Earl said calmly.

“We’re not drinking out of that after
they
do!” someone else said. Several others echoed his feelings.

“Then I guess you’ll be the ones who are thirsty from now on,” Earl replied.

“Either you put those signs back up or we’re leaving.”

Earl turned to face them, his shoulders squared. “I don’t make decisions based on threats. I’ll put the signs back up when the water fountain is fixed.”

“Isn’t he the union representative?” Jean whispered as she and Earl walked away. She glanced over her shoulder and saw a knot of workers gathering in an angry huddle. No one was lining up for drinks.

“Doug Sanders is not only the union rep, he’s also a known troublemaker,” Earl replied. “I think he’s the one who kept Thelma off your crew. Sanders applied pressure to management and they caved in.”

Jean left him to rejoin her crew, then realized that Earl still had her screwdriver. She returned to his office, arriving at the same time as Doug Sanders.

“Hey, Seaborn!” the burly welder said. “There’s thirty of us ready to walk off the job right now unless you put those signs back up.”

“Don’t forget to punch the time clock on your way out, Doug,” Earl replied. “No work, no pay.”

Doug whirled away and signaled to the others. “Okay! Let’s go!”

Jean shook her head in disbelief as she watched more than two dozen workers walk off the job—over a drinking fountain! “You did the right thing, Earl.”

He sighed and leaned against the office doorframe. “Maybe in theory. But with production schedules so critical, this is going to hurt us. I’d fire them all if there wasn’t a labor shortage.”

“You’d better call a plumber—fast!”

When the workday ended, Jean was headed to the locker room with Rosa when she noticed the Whites Only sign on the women’s locker room door for the first time. “Did you ever notice this before?” she asked. Rosa shook her head. “Me either. I walked right by it every day and never even saw it.”

“Where do the Negro workers change their clothes or go to the bathroom?” Rosa asked.

“I don’t know, but I’m going to ask Mr. Seaborn as soon as I change my clothes.”

“The Negro workers have to get dressed at home,” he said, in answer to her question.

“But what do they do about rest rooms?”

“There’s one in the old part of the building—it’s the factory’s original bathroom. There’s only one toilet, and both men and women have to use it. There are two outhouses, too.”

“Outhouses! And only one bathroom for all those men and women? That’s disgraceful!”

“I’ll tell you something else—I submitted a work order to the shipyard’s plumbers to fix the drinking fountain, and I found out that it’s been broken for more than a week. They’ve had the work order all that time, but they said it was a ‘low priority’ job—meaning that they’ll get to it whenever they feel like it.”

“That stinks, Earl. You should go over their heads and hire a plumber. Rosa Voorhees’ father-in-law is one, you know. I’ll even take up a collection to pay the bill. Helen Kimball said she’d donate money. She was outraged by this whole business.”

“That’s an excellent idea.” Earl opened his desk drawer and pulled out the telephone directory, leafing through it for the listings for plumbers. “I never noticed this blatant discrimination until I tried to hire Thelma. The trouble is, I don’t know how high up this attitude goes.”

“Speaking of Thelma,” Jean said, “I know Rosa isn’t planning to leave for a few more months, but I wondered if we could give Thelma a test run after work—on our own time? If she is already qualified to work, they’ll have no excuse for not transferring her. And if she needs a refresher course or something, I’ll be glad to train her after work on my own time.”

He looked up at her, his brow furrowed in concern. “That’s risky business, Jean. You saw the reaction to an integrated drinking fountain.”

“What’s the worst they could do—fire me? I don’t really care if they do. My boyfriend found a job for me in a factory back home. It’s not as challenging as this job, but it would be closer to my family.”

“We’d miss you. You’re a great crew chief.” Earl looked away, returning to the phone listings at the word
boyfriend
. Jean felt bad for bringing him up. The truth was, she still hadn’t heard from Russ. After hearing Helen’s advice, Jean had written one last letter to him, more than four months ago:

I think the world of you, Russ, and I want to be with you forever in that house you’re going to build on the hill. But you’re the one who stopped writing to me, so I guess we don’t want the same things. I’ve decided to stay here in Stockton, for now. I like my job and I’m very good at it. I have a lot of responsibility at work and my boss says that I could go places. I’m not dating anyone else. I still think of you and wish that things could be different, but I guess that’s up to you
.

“Let me know what you decide about training Thelma,” Jean said on her way out of Earl’s office. He mumbled a reply, his face still buried in the phone directory.

Jean arrived home from work to find that Patty’s house was even hotter than the factory had been. “The boys and I are going to sleep out on the screened porch tonight,” Patty told her. “Want to join us?”

“I might do that. Was there any mail from Johnny or Dan?” Jean no longer asked about a letter from Russ, and Patty had enough tact by now not to tease her about it.

“We both got a letter from Ma,” Patty told her. “She said she hung another star in the window now that Howie’s off to boot camp. That makes six. Evidently he wasn’t the only guy in his graduating class who left right after final exams. In fact, only two boys stayed around to march in cap and gown. Ma said there were so few boys that the girls had to go to Senior Prom with their fathers.”

“I’d like to see our dad wearing a bow tie and boutonnière,” Jean said, laughing.

“I’d like to see him dancing!”

Jean noticed a strained atmosphere at work as soon as she arrived at the shipyard the next day. She went straight to the drinking fountain before punching in and saw that nothing had changed since yesterday. One fountain was still out of order, and the signs hadn’t been rehung.

“Did you see what they did to Earl’s office?” Helen asked as they both punched the time clock. Jean’s heart rate sped up.

“No. What happened?”

“Go have a look.”

Jean couldn’t believe the sight. Someone had smashed the window to his cubicle, littering his office with shards of glass. His filing cabinets had been overturned and emptied, his desk upended, and the words
Nigger lover
were scrawled across one wall in red paint. Earl arrived with two maintenance workers equipped with buckets and brooms as Jean stood gaping at the mess.

“It happened last night during the graveyard shift,” Earl told her. “Nobody saw a thing, of course. I guess some people aren’t too happy about my decision to integrate the drinking fountain.”

“Better get a plumber here to fix it—fast.”

“I already arranged to have it fixed, but I’m not going to allow these cowards to intimidate me. In fact, I’m more convinced than ever that I need to hire Thelma to take over for Rosa. Are you still willing to help train her? No, don’t answer now. Think about it for a couple of days. I’ll understand if you’ve changed your mind.”

“I have to admit that the vandalism has me a little scared, but this is one battle that I want to fight. My brothers aren’t afraid to confront the enemy, and I’m not going to back down, either. I’ll work with Thelma today, in fact.”

“Good. I’ll set something up with her after work. Is here in my office okay? I figure they’ve already wrecked it once. There’s not much more anybody can do.”

Jean’s crew talked about the incident at lunchtime and agreed to support Mr. Seaborn if he hired Thelma on their crew in spite of the risks. Later, Helen drew Jean aside and handed her two envelopes.

“I sent away for this information when I was ordering some materials for Rosa. They’re brochures for two different colleges. Our troops seem to be making progress in the war, so it’s not too early to start thinking about your future studies.”

“Thank you,” Jean managed to say. She hoped she hadn’t appeared too surprised by Helen’s thoughtful gesture, but Jean was surprised. When they’d first started working together Helen had seemed so aloof—to use one of Ginny Mitchell’s favorite words. In the months since, Helen had warmed up to all of them, even to Rosa.

“One other thing, Jean. I would like to help you train Thelma, if I may.”

“Are you sure, Helen? I mean, I could use your help, but you saw how people reacted to the water fountain… .”

“Yes, I saw. And that’s exactly why I want to make it clear where my loyalties lie. Besides, I was the one who recommended Thelma. I’d like to look out for her.”