A Woman's Place (43 page)
August 25, 1944
“After four years of Nazi occupation,
Allied forces liberated the city of Paris today.”
* Jean *
Jean knew that her last day at Stockton Shipyard had to come sooner or later, but when it finally arrived, it still felt bittersweet. Rosa had left the shipyard nine months ago, Ginny four months ago, and Helen two weeks ago to prepare for her new class of second-grade students. Now it was Jean’s turn. Helen had been right; she needed to move on. Jean had already registered for fall classes at the college and was looking forward to her first day, but she still felt sad as she stuck her time card into the slot and punched out for the last time.
“I hope you’re going somewhere to celebrate.”
Jean looked up and saw Earl Seaborn watching her, his shirtsleeves rolled up, his tie loosened, his withered hand safely stuffed into his pocket.
“New beginnings should always be celebrated,” he said. “Helen told me that you’re starting college soon. Congratulations.”
“Thank you.” Jean knew that Earl had deliberately remained in the background these past few months, giving her time and space in which to grieve. She appreciated his sensitivity—but she had missed him.
“Actually, I don’t have any plans—to celebrate, that is.”
“How about if we went dancing?”
Jean hesitated as she wrestled with her heart. It felt disloyal to Johnny’s memory to have fun once again. But she remembered Helen’s advice, and before she had time to change her mind she said, “How about tomorrow night?”
“I’ll pick you up at eight o’clock,” Earl said with a grin.
They danced only to the slow songs. Jean still wasn’t ready to kick up her heels on the peppier ones. But the music soothed her and brightened her spirits. “I’m glad we came,” she told Earl. “Thank you.”
“I’m just glad you decided to celebrate. It was an incredible thing that you and all the other women in America did—going to work in difficult, dangerous jobs. No one can ever say that women are the weaker sex or that a woman’s place is only in the home. You showed the world, Jean. You have a right to be proud.”
“Have you heard some of the latest radio advertisements?” she asked. “When the war first started we heard a whole load of government propaganda telling women it was our patriotic duty to work in the war industries. Now they’re buttering us all up to return home. I heard one the other night that talked about all the great postwar jobs there were going to be for women as teachers and nurses and secretaries. It made me furious! They interviewed a woman who said she’d be glad to lay down her tools and live happily ever after as a housewife again. Another one said it was the right thing to do to give the men
their
jobs back.” She saw Earl cover his mouth to hide a smile and stopped. “What’s so funny?”
“Please don’t take this the wrong way, but you sound like the Jean Erickson I remember from two years ago.”
Jean punched his arm—then laughed at herself, too. “Thanks for getting me through a really hard time, Earl. I don’t even remember if I thanked you for driving me to Indiana. But I appreciate your patience in putting up with me. I don’t know what I would have done without you and all of my other friends. Helen finally took me aside and told me that enough was enough. She kicked me in the rear end and got me to sign up for college. My classes start in two weeks.”
“Will you come back and visit during vacations?”
“Didn’t I tell you? I’ve decided to commute. It’s only twenty miles away, and I met two other girls I can drive there with. I’m going to live with Patty until Bill comes home.”
“Even better.” Earl smiled, and his heart was all over both of his sleeves.
Jean reached for his hand. “Come on, I feel like dancing to this song.”
When Earl brought her home later that night, Jean noticed that the lights on the front porch were turned off. Her heart began to race in anticipation. Then she halted halfway up the steps as she suddenly remembered the last time Earl had brought her home—the night she’d learned that Johnny had died.
“Are you okay?” Earl asked. Jean knew that he must have remembered that night, too. And she knew with a certainty she couldn’t explain that Johnny wouldn’t want her to grieve for him forever.
“Yeah. I am,” she said truthfully.
Earl drew her close, then slowly bent to kiss her. It was a gentle, tender kiss, nothing at all like the bruising, possessive kisses that Russ used to wrestle from her.
When they pulled apart again, Jean remembered the very first time Earl had come here and asked her to walk to the corner drugstore for an ice-cream cone. Ever since that evening two years ago, Earl Seaborn had used slow, steady persistence, moving step by step, to work his way into Jean’s heart. It was the same kind of perseverance that it took to build a ship, day by day, from a million tiny pieces. She smiled at him.
“Penny for your thoughts?” he asked. She held out her hand, waiting for the penny. He fished in his pocket and laid one in her palm.
“I was just thinking how nice it would be if you kissed me again.”
October 20, 1944
“Allied forces have begun the invasion and
re-occupation of the Philippine Islands.”
* Rosa *
Joey grinned mischievously as he knocked down the towering pile of blocks Rosa had built. She loved to sit and play with him on the living room floor in the evening, listening to the radio while Mrs. Voorhees’ knitting needles clacked together and Mr. Voorhees read his newspaper. But Rosa could tell that Joey was growing bored with the game. He was strong and very active at ten months of age, rarely content to sit still for very long. He crawled away from the scattered blocks and headed toward the sofa, then pulled himself up to stand on his own two feet. When he reached for Tena’s cat, sleeping peacefully on the cushions, Rosa snatched him away again. Joey howled in protest.
“Boy, he sure does want his own way all the time,” she said. “Was Dirk this stubborn?”
“Not that I recall,” Tena said. “Dirk was a very contented baby. And quite lazy. He would rather be carried than walk. And when he wanted something he would just point to it.”
“I can’t imagine where Joseph gets his strong will from,” Mr. Voorhees said from behind his newspaper.
Rosa couldn’t help laughing. “All right, I guess you’ve got a point.” But in the next moment she remembered Dirk saying that he’d fallen in love with her because of her fiery Italian temperament, and she went from laughter to tears. She seemed to be doing that a lot these past few months. One minute she would be filled with hope as she listened to a good report about the war on the news, then she would remember that Dirk was still missing and her heart would plummet. Her joy would overflow at something cute that Joey did, then sorrow would overwhelm her as she wondered if Dirk would ever see his son. Up and down, day after day, like a never-ending seesaw ride. She sighed.
“Okay, you want to walk, big boy? Let’s see you walk.” She stood Joey on his feet and led him around the living room, gripping his hands. He crowed with delight, making Rosa laugh again. Then the doorbell rang.
Rosa froze. Tena’s knitting needles stopped as she looked up. Mr. Voorhees lowered his newspaper. They looked at each other for a long moment, as if waiting for someone to say that they’d been expecting company. They’d never spoken about it, but Rosa knew they each feared the day when a telegram would finally come and the news would be final, the waiting over. Rosa was closest to the door.
“I’ll get it,” she said. She scooped up her son and held him close, bracing herself as she opened the door. This time only one naval officer stood on the step, holding his hat in his hand. It was the chaplain.
“Oh no,” she said in a whimper.
“I’ve come with good news this time,” he said quickly. He smiled as he gripped Rosa’s arm to steady her. Her knees had gone weak at the sight of him, and she couldn’t seem to move. “May I come in?” he asked. He brushed past her without waiting, as if he could see that she was frozen with fear and hope.
“It’s good news, Mr. and Mrs. Voorhees,” the chaplain repeated as he walked into the living room. The two of them had risen to their feet. “Your son Dirk has been found alive! He was discovered in a Japanese prisoner of war camp that was recently liberated. He and all of the others are very malnourished, some have been mistreated, most of them are suffering from malaria and dysentery—but they’re alive!”
Rosa lowered Joey to the floor. Her limp arms could no longer hold him. Then she felt Mr. Voorhees’ strong arms around her, embracing her.
“Thank God … Oh, thank God …” he murmured. Rosa hugged him tightly in return. Mrs. Voorhees’ arms encircled them, as well. The three of them huddled together, weeping.
“We’ll have more information at a later date about possible injuries,” the chaplain continued, and Rosa suddenly remembered Dirk’s fears that he might lose an arm or a leg. She knew that what she had assured him of a year and a half ago was still true: She didn’t care how many arms and legs he had; she just wanted him back.
“I don’t have any information at the moment about when the men will be well enough to be shipped home. But we wanted to notify all the next of kin immediately. It’s such wonderful news.”
“Yes. Thank you so much,” Mr. Voorhees said. He wiped his eyes with his fist and turned to shake the chaplain’s hand. “And we thank God for answering our prayers.”
Joey gave a cry of delight, as if he understood the good news. But when Rosa looked around for him, he was standing beside the couch again, reaching for the cat.
“Come here, you!” she said, swooping him up. “Your daddy is coming home!”
