Chapter 19

Baltimore, Maryland

June 1944

Julia was jumping up and down like a little girl as her sister climbed off the bus. “Pilar!” she cried. “I still can’t believe you pried yourself out of that shitty town!”

“There’s nothing wrong with our town,” Pilar said. She hugged her sister tightly and then looked her all over, as if she had not seen her for years, rather than four months. “It’s so good to see you, Julia. We’ve missed you something terrible.”

“I’ve missed you too,” Julia said. “But not that shitty town.”

“Oh, Julia, you’ll never change,” Pilar said.

“Not if I can help it!” She took Pilar’s suitcase in one hand and her sister’s hand with the other. “Come on, now. We’ll drop your bag at the apartment—can you believe I have my own apartment! Then I’ll show you Baltimore. And there’s somebody I want you to meet.”

“A man?” Pilar asked warily.

“Of course, a man, silly,” Julia said, laughing. “You’ll like him. He’s a hoot!”

“I’m sure he is,” Pilar said. “They always are.”

“Oh, for Christ’s sake. It’s good you came here,” Julia said. “You’re turning more into mama every day.”

Julia hauled Pilar off to the apartment and gave her a perfunctory tour of the major Baltimore sights before they met John Goad in a bar at Fells Point on the shore of Baltimore Harbor.

“Well! Julia’s little sister!” John called out loudly as they entered the bar. “She tells tales about your adventures in the West Virginia hills eighteen hours a day!”

“We didn’t have that many adventures,” Pilar said primly. She shared neither her sister’s enjoyment of boisterous men nor her fondness for whiling away the hours in bars, though this one was more pleasant than the few Julia had dragged her to in Anmoore and Clarksburg. With its brick walls, polished wood bar with brass railings, and view out the window of the harbour, it was not a disagreeable place.

“Didn’t I tell you she’s a card!” Julia said. “Hank,” she shouted at the bartender. “Bring a beer and a bump for me, and a Coca-Cola for my little sister.” She turned to Pilar. “I assume you haven’t started drinking since I escaped Anmoore.”

Pilar grinned a bit. “No, that I haven’t.”

“It’s just as well,” Julia said. “Makes you a cheap date!”

Julia told Pilar about the new friends she had made and about the work at the shipyard. “I never imagined life could feel this good,” Julia said. “I have my own place, and I come and go without having to answer to anyone. I feel as free as a bird. And even with what I send back to mama, I make enough money to shop a little and go to the movies with the other girls.”

Pilar had seen Julia in her manic moods before. She worried that this was another of them, destined to deflate as soon as she struck some impediment. But Julia did seem genuinely happy, and this life was completely different from her existence in Anmoore. Pilar felt guardedly hopeful that Julia had actually reached a place of true satisfaction after so many years on a stony and troubled path.

As the afternoon faded into evening, John told story after story about his adventures on the road and rails, tramping during the Depression. He seemed to have traversed from coast to coast and stopped at every place in between. To her surprise, Pilar even found herself liking Julia’s latest companion. Eventually, Pilar asked John: “So, why aren’t you off in the war with the rest of the men?”

“Four-F, on account of a lung condition from when I was a kid, thank God,” John told her. “Don’t get me wrong. I’ve got nothing but respect for all those boys over there whipping up on the Krauts and Japs. But I never was much of one for fighting. I’m content to be one of the few left behind to tend to the maidens.” He squeezed Julia high on the thigh.

“John Goad!” Julia howled in mock protest. “You’re a devil! Save that for the bedroom. Hank!” Julia shouted to the bartender. “Another round.”

“Not for me, Julia,” Pilar said. “I’m dead on my feet.”

Julia dug a key out of her handbag. “You go on back to the apartment, then. You remember the way don’t you?”

“I do,” Pilar said.

“Good,” Julia said. “Make yourself at home. There should be some food in the refrigerator.”

Pilar hugged Julia goodbye and shook John’s hand. “It was very nice meeting you.”

“I’m glad you’re here, Pilar.” John said with a toothy smile. “We’ll show you some good times in this old town!”

As Pilar started out the door into the cool night, Julia called to her from across the bar: “Don’t wait up! We’ll be late.”

Later that week, Pilar bought stationery and wrote to Mercedes while Julia was at work.

Dear Mama,

I am glad you had me come here. Baltimore is so different and so much more interesting than Anmoore and Clarksburg. I can’t believe it’s me saying that! Julia has shown me all over, and I have gone out exploring on my own in the afternoons when she is at work, and I always discover some new place or thing. I am still a homebody at heart, but I feel for the first time that I’d like to see more of the country some day.

Julia is doing good, really good. She is happier and more content than I’ve ever seen her. She loves the work at the shipyard—she is just like that Rosie the Riveter poster!—and has a lot of girlfriends from her shift. They’ve taken me to buy a new dress and some shoes that are so nice I never want to wear them, and we went to see the movie Going My Way last night, and I could see it a dozen times. I would marry Bing Crosby tomorrow!

Julia has also gotten me on at the shipyard, and I’ll start next week. With the big invasion last month in France, they can’t build fast enough, and the yard is working around the clock. I’ll start just helping push things around in carts and cleaning up, but I hope I’ll get to do more before too long. You just wouldn’t believe the sight of all these women in overalls doing men’s work and building these huge ships! It’s a new world.

So, don’t worry about us, though I worry about you alone there with Richard all the time. I hope he’s not being difficult and is helping you with the housework. I love you and miss you!

Pilar

* * *

April 1945

John Goad was gone. Pilar and Julia had cooked dinner for the three of them, as they often did; then he and Julia went to her room, as they always did. There was no indication that anything had changed. But in the morning, Julia came into the kitchen for her coffee alone. John always woke first and had the coffee percolating in the electric pot by the time Julia rose.

“John sleeping late this morning?” Pilar asked.

“No,” Julia said without elaborating.

Julia took only two sips of her coffee and did not touch the eggs, bacon and toast Pilar had prepared. Julia stood and stared out the kitchen window, and smoked a cigarette, and left the kitchen without saying anything else. Pilar heard the bathroom door latch and then the sound of Julia vomiting. Pilar knew it was not a hangover.

After a few minutes of silence in the bathroom, Pilar went across the hall and knocked tentatively.

“Everything okay in there, Julia?” she asked.

“Goddamnit, Pilar,” she shouted from behind the closed door. “Can’t you just leave me be? Go outside and do something. Or are you incapable of leaving the apartment alone?”

Pilar did not take the rude outburst personally. Julia always stung blindly, like an angry hornet, when she fell into her black moods. After the frustration loosened its grip, she would apologize and vow never to speak harshly to Pilar again. It had happened ten thousand times. Julia would lash out again, of course, but she was always sincere when she made the promise.

Pilar effortlessly deduced what had transpired. Julia clearly was pregnant again, and when she told John after dinner in the bedroom, he left. Mama is going to be so disappointed in me, Pilar thought. And furious with Julia.

Julia had gotten pregnant again a year after she delivered Art Kelley’s daughter, whom she gave away for adoption, back in 1942. She miscarried that fourth pregnancy. Standing in the hallway of the apartment in Baltimore, Pilar felt guilty about hoping Julia would lose this one as well.

“I’ll go out, then,” Pilar said through the door. She put on a cheerful tone, as if they were sitting placidly together on the sofa. Pilar always felt responsible for helping Julia pull herself back together. “I found this park with a view of Fort McHenry that I like very much, and it’s a beautiful day. I’ll get myself a newspaper and go there and read it.”

“You do that,” Julia said through the door.

Pilar stayed away all day. When she returned to the apartment, Julia still was in her nightgown and bathrobe, but her mood had improved.

“Hey, kiddo,” Julia said when Pilar came into the kitchen. “I’m sorry about being so nasty this morning. I promise not to take it out on you like that again.”

“It’s okay, Julia,” Pilar said.

“I guess you figured out what’s going on,” Julia said. “It’s pretty obvious, especially to you. We’ve been through this, what, four times already?”

“Yes, I know, Julia,” Pilar said. “I’m sorry. Is John not ever coming back?”

Lighting a cigarette, Julia forced a grin. “I think we can count on that.”

“I’ll fix us something to eat,” Pilar said. “Do you need anything? A blanket? It’s getting a little chilly in here.”

“No, I’m good, thanks,” Julia said. “But some hot food would be very nice. I haven’t eaten anything today, and I feel my appetite coming back.”

Pilar made tortilla con patata—the thick egg and potato omelet ubiquitous in Spain—and they ate mostly in silence.

Pilar cleared away the dishes and returned to the kitchen table with coffee and some pastries she had bought that afternoon at the bakery around the corner. Julia said: “I guess we should quit our jobs at the shipyard and go back to Anmoore.”

“Yes,” Pilar said, though it made her sad to think of leaving the city so soon. “We’ve saved enough money to last us a year anyway.”

* * *

Once again, in November 1945, Julia was on Mercedes’ bed. Her mother had barely spoken to her over the six months since they returned from Maryland.

“I’ll deliver this baby,” Mercedes said coldly. “But I don’t want to hear a sound out of you. Not a sound.”

Julia obeyed, and silently gave birth to another daughter.

“What’ll you do with this one?” Mercedes asked.

“Adoption,” Julia said and closed her eyes.