FINALLY, TO OUR joy, spring arrived. The daffodils emerged. We heard the U.S. invaded Okinawa and kamikaze pilots flew their aircrafts into Allied ships. We thought about those we’d once loved, or loved presently, who were out there somewhere floating in the ocean.
AND THEN THE news of President Roosevelt’s death. It was frightening that he died before finishing his vow to end the war and we certainly were not comforted by the newscaster’s report that the new president, Truman, was very cognizant of his own shortcomings. But the balance sheet of the Allies and the Axis in Europe looked better for our side, and in late April, Mussolini was assassinated.
WOULD THE WAR in Europe be over? We grew hopeful, but not too hopeful; we did not want to be disappointed, and there was still the Pacific to think of.
TWO YEARS IN the New Mexico sun had worn our faces. And even though we got caught in late afternoon thunderstorms there was also the threat of a lightning strike and the gusty winds spreading wildfires through dry grasses. On a clear day we could see billows of smoke a hundred miles away, and in the mornings the wind carried the smell of burning wood so close to us, it was as if we had had a campfire the night before.
WE SAW HORSES and coyotes, and for the group of us that rode outside the fence together, greater adventures. We saw mountain lions and snakes and once, at the top of the ridge, we saw a man with binoculars studying the buildings of our town below. One of us called, Spy! and he looked at us and ran. We galloped toward him into the rough rock and it proved too much for the horses. When Betty drew a revolver we all exclaimed and while we were exclaiming the man went out of view, but Betty was nonchalant and said, I take this everywhere with me, and put her gun back under her shirt.
WE REPORTED THE incident to the Army and told everyone what happened; as far as we know he was never caught. And though we talked of who might be a spy, the real spy among us was someone we never suspected. He did not come up in our conversations, except to say he was quiet. Instead, we dined together on Sunday evenings; he seemed to enjoy playing murder mystery games and charades like the rest of us; he did not talk too much and he listened to us well beyond the limits of our husbands’ patience. We thought he was just shy. He babysat our children while we went to dinner at the Director’s house; he gave us new records for Christmas because we had complained we did not have enough to dance to. Our husbands described him as bright in the Lab. We had liked him very much, except for Marge who had said, He sits in the corner at parties and doesn’t laugh but has that high-pitched giggle. Gives me the chills.