Battle Cry (14 page)

“Where is your coat?”

“I didn’t bring one.”

He had her arm and led her over the long room past the singers, who were now deep in prayer. She caught herself at the head of the stairs, then looked up at him. He was very handsome, standing upright. “I’ll get my purse.”

He sucked in a deep breath as they stepped into the darkened street, the fresh air nearly sweeping him off his feet. “How do you feel now?” she asked. His first steps were not too steady, then she found trouble keeping in step with his long, easy strides. Vernon Yarborough took short steps, he was easy to walk with.

“I feel like a couple of two-hundred-pound tackles just converged on me.”

“Are you a football player?”

“Use to, just high school. Funny thing happened yesterday. I got a letter from the Georgia Tech Alumni Association accepting my application for a scholarship. My buddies nearly died laughing.”

Elaine laughed. He took her arm unconcernedly and assisted her across a street. “I used to have a crush on a football player,” she said.

“But he wasn’t as good as me.”

“He was much better looking. Every girl in the school was crazy about him. Of course, I kept the torch to myself.”

“Of course,” Danny repeated.

“Why do you say ‘of course’ that way?”

“Oh, I don’t know. You don’t seem one to follow impulses. You look well planned.”

“For instance?”

“For instance. You are probably wondering what you are doing walking down the street with me. You must be crazy, you’re saying to yourself. You’re really robbing the cradle. By the way, Mrs. Yarborough, I didn’t catch your first name.”

“Elaine.”

“Elaine the fair, Elaine the beautiful, Elaine the lily maid of Astelot.”

“That’s funny.”

“What’s funny about it? Tennyson, required reading—I suffered.”

“I know. But no one has said that to me for an awful long time.” They shoved through a crowded group of sailors. She held his arm tightly. He was strong. Vernon was strong too—in another way. Vernon was security.

“Why did you help me out, Elaine?”

“Oh, I suppose you reminded me of my kid brother.”

“Know something, I’ll bet you don’t have a kid brother.”

“Keep going, you’re doing fine.”

“Well, you are a big wheel at the canteen…probably head of a committee. You’re the wife of an officer, I’d say a Navy officer.”

“What makes you think so?”

“Something about a Navy officer.”

“Snob?”

“No, just that holy reserve.”

“Go on, you’re a very interesting young man.”

“Well, let me see. You’re not regular Navy, you’re reserve. Your husband is probably a lawyer, corporation. Maybe a banker or an advertising exec.”

“You’re not so smart, he’s a certified public accountant.”

“Same category, ulcer man.”

“Really.”

“Yep.” She began to feel uneasy, but he continued. “You probably belong to a clique; immaculate housekeeper with maid. Social ambitions.”

“Really.”

“You’re repeating yourself. Say listen, I’m getting rude and you’ve been damned nice to me.”

“I must be wearing a sign.”

“No, it shows in your eyes, your dress, the way you talk, the way you choose words. You’ve trained yourself.”

She changed the subject.

Yes, I’ve trained myself. The only one of the Gursky girls who had the guts to go out and get what I wanted. Five daughters…four married, poverty, misery, failure. I trained myself to get Vernon Yarborough and be his wife. The family didn’t like him; he didn’t sit in his shirtsleeves and drink beer on the front porch and argue baseball like the other sons-in-law. I’ve groomed myself…his clubs, his parents. To learn to have. Planned life, plan the next step. People must know where they are going.

“You were saying, Danny, about Georgia Tech and the war came…”

They walked for many blocks and then turned from the main street to a quiet, shadowed one. As they strolled he told her about Baltimore, Kathy, Forest Park…the wanting to become an engineer. “Funny,” he said, “people sure make friends fast. I’ve just known you a little while and I’m babbling my life’s story…want a cigarette?”

“I shouldn’t smoke…on the street.”

“Here.”

“Thanks.”

“Look, Elaine.”

“What?”

“Across the street. An ice rink. Let’s go skating.”

“Goodness, no.”

“Why not?”

“Why, I haven’t been in years.”

“There you go, fighting off impulses.”

“Seems like I followed enough of them for one day. Besides, if you are going to continue to accuse me…then tell me why I’m in San Diego?”

“That’s easy. You’re here because it’s the thing to do.”

“Exactly what do you mean!”

“Look, I’m not trying to be nasty, stop egging me.”

“I want to know what you meant by that.”

“All right. To uproot and stay here and wait faithfully for ships to come in, it looks good to the clique. Probably the same reason your husband joined up. I’ll bet he weighed the best deal for himself very carefully. Look, I don’t know what’s gotten into me. I shouldn’t be angry with you, but I am…did that last one hurt?”

Yes, it hurt. She was clever. A clever hostess, a clever pusher for the dull husband. Respectable. A complete divorce from the round oak table and the rye bread and borscht. A small, select circle, do the proper thing at the proper time. She didn’t like being stripped naked by a boy she had only known a few hours. Why didn’t she just slap his face and leave?

“I guess if you stay around officers’ wives long enough, you’ll get nauseated enough to try anything. Like join the USO to get away from them. And find out there are a lot of little punks, not wearing gold braid, who are pretty good guys.”

“That’s enough, Danny.”

“I used to go skating in Carlin’s Arena all the time, back home. During a real cold winter the rowboat lake in Druid Hill Park froze. Ever play crack-the-whip? Anyhow, there’s a little island in the center of the lake with a boathouse on it and a big fireplace. You’d come in half chilled and stand in front of the fire and drink hot chocolate.”

“It—it sounds like lots of fun.” And then that strange twinge again. A thrill of adventure in walking alongside him. His cocky words, sure manner. Calm and sure of himself. For the first time in many years she felt as though a veil had been lifted from before her. She felt like the young reckless girl who had lived in a big, shingled house on the South Side of Chicago. And then she became frightened of the way he was completely twisting her.

She felt tired and for a moment nearly slipped her arm about his waist and laid her head on his shoulder. “Danny.”

“Yes?”

“We’d better go back. We’ve walked way off our course.”

“All right—look, there’s a carnival a couple blocks down….”

“I really must go back.”

“I’ve got six bits left. Look, I’m a dead-eye at throwing baseballs at the bottles. I’ll win you a kewpie doll. I owe you a present anyhow.” He led her to the ticket window and they passed into the aura of twirling lights, sawdust, barkers, a quagmire of bobbing white hats and green and khaki uniforms. He shoved a cotton candy cone in her hand. She took a bite and smiled.

“Come on, Elaine.”

“Step right up. Ah there, there’s a Marine. Come on sport…win the little lady a prize. Three balls for a thin dime….”

“Hold my blouse.” He winked. “They don’t call me Rifle Arm Forrester for nothing.” He went into an elongated wind-up and tossed the softball at the pyramid of iron bottles. He missed the works by a foot. “Hum, first time that’s ever happened.” She tilted her head back and laughed. One bottle fell, grudgingly, in three tries.

“It’s rigged,” he whispered, “magnets.”

“Hold this,” Elaine said, handing him back his blouse and two cones.

“That’s right, step right up little lady and show him how.” She did and jumped from the ground screaming, “A winner!”

“Yes sir, everybody wins. You there, sailor…win a prize….”

Elaine tucked the plaster doll under her arm and walked off still laughing. “I played on a girl’s team ten years ago. They don’t call me Rifle Arm Gursky—Yarborough for nothing.”

“Very funny, very funny.”

“I want a hot dog.”

“I’m broke.”

“This is on me.”

“Oh, look over there.”

“What?”

“A ferris wheel. No…no, on second thought it is rather high.”

“Come on,” Danny said.

They whirled up and then looked down. On the crazy city. She grasped the guard tightly and slipped over close to him. “Don’t crawl all over me,” he said, “I’m just as scared as you are.”

“I haven’t had so much fun in years.”

“What did you say?”

“I said…it sure takes the breath out of you.”

The wheel stopped suddenly. They were high above the crowd. Their seat swayed back and forth. She gasped and he placed his arm about her. It seemed as though he could reach out and touch a star…it was quiet and the world far away. A crazy day, and ending in the clouds. His other arm went about her and she lifted her face. The wheel came to earth. He kissed her and they spun in a giddy circle. Her fingers dug into his arm. She drew back. He kissed her again. The flashing lights…the muffled sounds of people below…rising and then falling, sent them dizzy. Then the wheel stopped suddenly.

They walked silently from the white way. The maze of sound and light was deaf to them. She turned, her face very pale.

“I…I always wanted to kiss a girl on a ferris wheel.”

“Good night, Danny.”

“I’m not sorry and neither are you.”

She was afraid…of herself.

“I saw on the bulletin board at the canteen—a hayride next Friday. I have liberty—I’ll bet you look swell in slacks.”

“I don’t want to see you again, Danny.”

“Come on, I’ll take you back to the canteen.”

“No, no….”

“I’ll see you Friday, then.”

She spun around and raced into darkness. Danny withdrew his last dime from his pocket. He flipped it in the air and walked away from the carnival, whistling.

Elaine Yarborough filled a pair of slacks nicely. The wife of Vernon Yarborough made it a point to keep her figure attractive.

She paced the line of hay-filled trucks as laughing men and girls piled aboard, and a sound of starting motors filled the air. She checked her watch, then sighed despondently.

“Hi, Elaine.” She started and spun about. He was standing behind her. “I almost didn’t make it.” They looked at each other long and hard. He took her hand and led her to the last truck. Her hand was trembling. In a quick effortless motion, he took her in his aims and gently lifted her into the truck and hopped aboard. They settled back in the straw, she nestled in his arms.

The beach at La Jolla: a campfire, songs, tangy tasting hot dogs. The surf pounding the shore and a blanket of stars overhead. They walked along the water line. She was lost in his green blouse, which she wore to keep out the chill. And during the evening, hardly a word passed between them.

Afterward, her car stopped before her apartment in the neat court of the motel full of officers’ wives. Danny eased it into its port and followed her to the door. She unlocked it, switched on the light of the living room, and he closed the door behind him. The room was Elaine, he thought. A miniature of her home in Arlington Heights. Expensive, stiff, cold mementos from the clique, the select circle. A row of books, beautifully bound, well chosen. Danny walked to them and opened one. As he suspected, a neat bookplate on the inside cover:
Ex Libris Vernon Yarborough.
He wondered if they had ever been read.

“It was a wonderful evening,” she said. “Shall I fix you a drink?”

“I gave it up for Lent,” he answered, recalling his one episode with liquor. He thumbed through the book. “
Cyrano.
I have a friend, Marion Hodgkiss. He reads all the time—talked me into this one. He says there is nothing in modern writing as beautiful as
Cyrano.
”

“I’m fond of it…I haven’t read it in years.”

“I had a teacher once. The guy used to read us Shakespeare. You never saw anything like it, the way he could make forty kids sit and listen to him, entranced. A good teacher is like a good doctor, I suppose—as close to real goodness as anything we have on earth. I don’t know what made me think of him.” His eyes caught a picture atop the bookcase, a Naval officer. Immaculate and impeccable in his uniform. Clean shaven, groomed—stuffy, stiff, studious, and dull. He looked at her. She was the wife of another man. It felt eerie. He was in this man’s living room…he had kissed his wife. Danny reached up and turned the picture to the wall.

“That wasn’t funny. You shouldn’t have done that.”

“I couldn’t stand to have him staring at me when I kissed you.”

“Don’t.”

“I’m sorry.”

“Danny,” she whispered, “what are you thinking about?”

“I don’t think you’d like to know.”

“Tell me.”

“I was thinking of how I pictured my wife. I always thought of being on a construction job; a tunnel or maybe a highway up in the mountains. Alaska maybe, maybe the Andes. I thought of coming out of a blinding snow and cold into a cozy warm cabin. Not a fancy place. But comfortable, like a woman can make it, with a big fire and her standing there in jeans and a heavy wool shirt. I’d take her in my arms and say, ‘Isn’t it great we aren’t like other people? Next year we’ll be on that job in China—after that Mexico or the new oil fields…the world is our oyster and we come and go as we damned please. No social conventions…. nothing to make us stale. Maybe build a little home back in Baltimore and take out time for some kids and when they’re old enough to crawl, out we go again. Let them learn to live in freedom!’ I’m sorry, Elaine, that campfire got me into a mood.”

“It…it sounds wonderful, she’s a lucky girl.”

“It’s a long war.”

“I feel as if I had a bale of hay down my back,” she said. “Do you mind if I change?”

“Go on ahead.”

They spoke through the door ajar as he glanced through some other books. Some straw was sticking into him under his shirt. He took off his blouse and shirt and skivvy and wiped the hay away from his body. Elaine Yarborough stood in the doorway. A dressing gown, sheer, white—it flowed like a billow to the floor. Her black hair hung to her tanned shoulders. He held his shirt in his fists still, and gazed at her. Across the room each heard the other’s deep breath. She was another man’s wife…it felt strange, strange. She walked towards him. He could see the nipples of her breasts through the film of silk net.