Five

IT WAS STILL DARK when Lottie woke up. She lay there for a long moment, waiting for her eyes to adjust to the dawn light, which she thought must have awoken her, but it was still pitch-black outside. As she stared through her bedroom window, into the night, her eyes eventually began to pick out the stars in the sky beyond the dark branches of the trees nearest the house. But there was no hint of daylight yet.

Lottie sat up.

Despite the darkness, and despite a fatigue in her bones that let her know she had barely slept, she was wide awake. And she knew what she had to do. It wasn’t even so much that she had thought her way to a decision. It was simply that the path before her was suddenly clear.

And it didn’t lead down the aisle to Eugene.

She wasn’t sure where it led. She just knew she had to follow it—this voice in herself that had started as a whisper but was now impossible to ignore, telling her that she was built for something more than anyone in her life believed—including her.

She stared out into the night.

Then she reached over and turned on the small light on her bedside table. She pushed away the covers, got out of bed, and stood face-to-face with her wedding dress in the dim light.

After a long moment, she reached up and unhooked it from her closet door, and threw the gown and its piles of tulle underskirts on her unmade bed.

She opened her closet, pulled out a simple blue shift, and got dressed. She knelt beside her bed and pushed the skirts of her wedding dress aside to root around under the bed.

The first piece of luggage she pulled out was rich red cordovan, decorated with shining brass. With a little shake of her head, she pushed it back and reached deeper under the bed. This time, she pulled out a somewhat battered blue canvas satchel, one of her father’s that she had rescued from the trash heap when he decided it had gotten too worn for him to travel with it.

She’d never actually traveled with it herself before, other than to parade around the house or the yard with it when she was small. But now she set it on the foot of her bed, flicked the latches, and flipped it open to reveal the faded gray satin lining within.

Quietly but quickly, she began to fill it. She piled in some underthings, a pair of cotton pajamas, and a handful of socks. She stacked a few blouses on top of a pair of shorts and a pair of slacks. She pushed aside the rows of silk and velvet and chiffon party dresses in her closet and pulled out another simple shift, this time olive green. Then she slipped a pair of Mary Janes onto her feet.

As she did, she noticed her jewelry box, which she’d left open the night before, on the vanity at the foot of her bed. It was large, about the size of a bread box, and lined with dozens of velvet cubbies big enough to fit one necklace, or brooch, or pair of earrings. In the faint light that reached all the way from her bedside lamp to the cubbies, her gems gave off a faint glow: glimmers of sapphire, ruby, turquoise, and diamond after diamond, her father’s favorite gift to her on almost every birthday since she had been a little girl.

Without taking anything out, she closed the box.

She twisted the engagement ring on her finger once, twice—and dropped it on top.

Then she went over to the little writing desk beside her bed.

The other furniture in the room was all the best available, from Hudson’s, a department store downtown. The wood shone, the detail was exquisite, and the upholstery was lush.

But her desk was from another time and place. It had been built by her mother’s father, for her mother’s mother, when they were first married. Unlike the luxurious pieces the family could afford now, the joinings weren’t cleverly hidden. The varnish wasn’t perfect. And the signs of all the years that her grandmother had used it were clear: dings and scrapes on the legs, ink spots soaked into the wood. But it had always been Lottie’s favorite piece of furniture in the whole room.

She sat down in the little chair her grandfather had also made. It looked so rickety that it might barely hold the weight of a child, but Lottie knew it was as sturdy as anything else in the room.

She pulled out the single rough drawer in the center of the desk, removed a few sheets of her monogrammed stationery, and picked up the pen she had left lying there.

For a moment, she bowed her head, covering her eyes with her hand. Then she lifted her chin and began to write.

Dear Eugene,

Tears sprang into her eyes as she looked down at the blank page. She shook her head and her glance landed on her wedding dress, with the little bag she’d packed just beyond it. Pen still in hand, she wiped the tears away from her eyes.

Then the thoughts that had filled her mind all night, and were still there roiling when she woke again before dawn, began to fill the page.

I wish that I could be in two places at once today. But there’s only one of me, and there’s something I feel I have to do. I’ve never felt so strongly that I need to be part of something bigger than myself. I want to try to be of some help in this world.

I want you to know that you’ll always be in my heart. I hope one day you can forgive me.

Your Lottie

She laid the pen down, folded the page over without reading it again, and slipped it quickly into an envelope. Then she wrote Eugene’s name on it, sealed it, laid it on her desk, and stood up.

She went over to the bed and picked up the small valise she had just packed.

As she crossed to the door, she looked back at Eugene’s name on the letter. Her mind flashed forward to what it would feel like for him to hold it in his hand, to open and read it. She could see the way his face would fall and how he would quickly try to cover his sadness, so as not to distress anyone else who was there with him.

The guilt nearly stopped her in her tracks. But something else tugged at her even more strongly, pulling her urgently toward the door, and she followed it out, into the hall.

She paused after she pulled the door to her room shut behind her, listening to the sounds of the rest of the house. A bit of very early light was starting to dawn now, pouring faintly into the hall from the large windows at either end. But nobody else seemed to have awoken yet. No boards creaked, no electric lights hummed.

Quickly, she slipped through the hall to the stairs and down to the main entryway. It was also deserted, with the early sun just beginning to pick the buffets and chairs out of the darkness.

She ducked into the vestibule where she and Eugene had sat the night before, then passed through it quickly to the kitchen, heading for the garages that opened off them, so that deliverymen could easily stock the big larder and refrigerators.

But just a few steps before she reached the delivery entrance on the opposite side of the kitchen, a shadow separated itself from the counter with a happy cry, and the overhead fixtures flicked on.

Squinting in the sudden light, Lottie turned around, already forming the excuse she’d give to whatever cook or kitchen maid she’d surprised with her early morning foray. After all, brides were liable to do all kinds of eccentric things on their wedding day. An early morning drive was hardly the strangest thing a bride had ever done.

But when Lottie turned and saw her mother’s face, she was speechless.

Her mother smiled as she swept over to embrace Lottie in a long, warm hug. “Oh, sweetheart,” she said, smoothing Lottie’s hair before she released her. “You’re up so early. Did you get any sleep at all?”

Lottie stood frozen. Her mind was racing. She had never lied to her mother. But if she told her the truth, what would her mother do?

Lottie had barely had the strength to write the message to Eugene, even when she wasn’t there to see his face. If her mother tried to stop her, she didn’t know what she would do.

Maybe, she told herself as her mother gave her another squeeze and stepped back, she wouldn’t notice that something was wrong.

But as soon as her mother gave Lottie a quick once-over, Lottie knew that was a foolish hope.

At the sight of Lottie’s simple dress, and the valise in her hand, her mother’s smile vanished.

“Lottie,” she said. “Where are you going?”

All kinds of half-truths spun through Lottie’s mind: that she was going out for a drive, that she just needed a moment to clear her head, that she had to go out to get something she had forgotten.

But when Lottie was confronted with her mother’s clear, questioning gaze, the truth began to tumble out.

“I’m joining up. The Navy is taking women now,” Lottie said. It sounded so foolish as she said it, even to herself, that her heart fell. And everything else that she wanted to add—that she’d finally found a purpose, that she needed to do good in the world—sounded so flat in her own mind that she couldn’t even bring herself to say them.

Her mother’s expression made Lottie’s heart twist in her chest. When Lottie had first come down the stairs, her mother’s face had been compassionate and open. Now it took Lottie a moment to recognize the look in her mother’s eyes, because she had never seen it before. It was fear.

“You don’t have to marry Eugene,” her mother said softly.

“I know,” Lottie said, tears springing into her eyes.

“And you don’t have to join the war, either,” her mother said. “When I said you always had a choice…”

She trailed off, but Lottie didn’t need her to finish the sentence to understand what she meant. When her mother had told her she always had a choice in life, she hadn’t ever expected it to be this one.

“I know,” Lottie said, squaring her shoulders with a slight lift of her chin. “I want to.”

Her mother bit her lip, blinking back tears. But then she nodded and took Lottie’s hand.

“Does Eugene know?” she asked.

“I tried to tell him,” Lottie said. “He didn’t understand.”

Her mother took a deep breath. “Well, maybe one day he will,” she said.

“I have to go,” Lottie said, her voice breaking.

To her surprise, her mother’s face broke into a small smile. It was laced with traces of other things: worry, sorrow. But it was still a smile.

“Well,” she said. “I see you’ve made your choice.”

She turned away for a moment, rummaged around in a drawer, and then tucked something in the pocket of Lottie’s shift. When Lottie put her own hand in to investigate, she discovered it was a small wad of bills.

“Just in case,” her mother told her. Then she gave her another hug, this one even longer than the last. She pulled back and put her hand tenderly on Lottie’s cheek.

“Be careful,” her mother said, her eyes brimming with tears. “I’m letting you go, but I expect you to come back.”

Lottie looked at her mother long and hard. Her heart swelled with gratitude for the woman staring back at her.

Then her mother cleared her throat and shook her head, the spell of the moment broken.

“Love you,” Lottie said.

She expected to hear the same familiar “I love you” her mother had always answered her with, but when her mother opened her mouth, nothing came out. Her mother pressed her lips together, as if she was struggling to hold something back.

“Mom?” Lottie asked.

Her mother shook her head, and when Lottie reached for her again, she stepped back, out of Lottie’s grasp.

The gesture wrung Lottie’s heart, even though she knew it was her mother’s way of letting her go.

It took everything Lottie had to pick up her valise again and go out the door.

The top of her Bearcat was already down. She tossed her valise in the back, then made her way over to the door behind it by the early light now spilling through the big square panes of glass. It only took her a moment to undo the latch and let it swing wide enough to ease the car out safely.

The keys were in the ignition, where she’d left them. This time, the engine caught as soon as she put the clutch in and turned the key.

Suddenly, the weight in her chest that had grown more and more crushing with every day that led up to the wedding vanished. In its absence, she felt content. A smile spread across her face, and she felt hope for the first time she could remember. It was such an unfamiliar feeling that it took her a moment to recognize it: the swelling in her chest, the dizzy feel of freedom, and the sense that suddenly all doors were open and everything was possible.

A moment later, she was winding down the long drive from her home and turning onto the main road. She was headed due east, into the sunrise.