December 7, 1941
The morning sun peeked through the curtains too early Sunday morning. Audrey cracked her eyes open, then threw an arm over face and groaned. She needed to get up or she’d walk to church. All she wanted to do was roll over and fall back into the dream. It had been delicious. Willard Johnson held her close as they spun around the floor to a love song crooned by Bing Crosby. She leaned into his tall form and let him lead her. As the music faded, he whispered into her ear, but she couldn’t hear a word as she disappeared in his chocolate eyes. This dream deserved to be relived. She pinched her eyes closed, but the image had evaporated in the sunlight.
Sticking her toes out the side of the comforter, Audrey tested the air. Her breath curled in front of her when she blew, but quickly disappeared. Good. Someone had lit the kerosene stove downstairs. With a leap she dashed out of the bed and grabbed her robe. Throwing it around her shoulders, she hurried into the hall and to the bathroom.
Ten minutes later she headed down the stairs, dressed in her favorite navy suit, hair bouncing against her shoulders. If she hurried, her younger brothers might leave her a scrap or two for breakfast. John and Robert were sixteen and fourteen but ate enough to make anyone think at least four young men lived in the house. On Sundays Mama had to flip pancakes for fifteen minutes straight to fill their stomachs.
As she rounded the corner into the kitchen, Dad stomped in with a swirl of frigid air. “Come on, everyone. Grab your coats and head outside before the car dies. I’ve got her warming up out front.”
Dad grabbed Mama’s coat from the rack and he gently shrugged it around her shoulders. With a small pat, he looked in her eyes and kissed her. Audrey envied them their strong affection. Some days she wondered if she’d find someone who would cherish her the same way Dad loved Mama. Today the face of Willard Johnson accompanied the thought and shimmied at the edge of her sight.
“Come on, slow poke. Looks like you danced too much last night.” John jostled her out of the way as he dashed out the door with a holler.
“Brothers.” Audrey knew his enthusiasm wasn’t for church but for the chance to see Nancy Tagalie. She grabbed her coat and slipped into it before Dad could leave without her. This morning she wouldn’t risk walking to church.
As they chugged to church, she burrowed between her brothers to stay warm.
A pointed elbow shoved into her side woke her up when they arrived at church a few minutes later. She frowned at Robert as she rubbed her side. Why did boys feel the need to use brute force? Her brothers and male students were cut from the same cloth. Both baffled her.
Audrey trailed her family up the stone stairs of the First Christian Church. She loved to soak in the beauty of the stately brick building that had joined the North Platte’s skyline a couple of years earlier. The detailed circle of stained glass underneath the spire radiated color. Its stillness quieted her heart as she prepared to worship.
She entered the foyer and stumbled when someone tapped her from behind. Turning with a frown, she looked into the face of Willard Johnson. “Oh. Willard. I didn’t expect to see you here. Do you attend services here?”
“It’s been awhile. It’s been too long since my last visit. It’s a pleasure to see you again.”
Feeling her Dad’s stare, Audrey nodded her headed and turned to follow her family to their regular pew. For as long as she could remember, the Stone family had sat in a pew on the left side a third of the way from the front. They used to fill the pew when Grandma and Grandpa had joined them. Now her grandparents sang along from heaven.
She stood and sang “Praise God, from Whom All Blessings Flow” with the congregation. As she did, she counted her blessings. While war raged around the globe, she and her family enjoyed peace and safety. While they weren’t rich, they lived in a comfortable house and didn’t lack for anything. She even had a good job at a small school in town. She loved approaching Dad once a month with her contribution to the family income. God had gifted her more than she needed or deserved, and she breathed a prayer of thanks.
Willard hoped his father wouldn’t ask him details about the sermon when he got home. After stumbling into Audrey Stone, he’d focused on nothing but the back of her head. Roger elbowed him to signal when to stand and sing. Williard shook his head, amused at his intense reaction to her. He’d never felt this way about anyone, especially so fast. Usually he could state with pride he was immune to any girl. For some reason Audrey affected him differently. He had to learn why. And he vowed he would.
As the pastor blessed the congregation and dismissed them, Willard headed toward Audrey. He wanted to invite her to join him for a soda at the drugstore Friday night before he returned to the ranch.
“So what now?” Roger looked at him with a smug grin.
“You know exactly who I want to talk to.”
“I do, but I also see someone else headed our way.”
Willard followed Roger’s gaze. His brain froze when he saw Betty Gardner headed in his direction. Instead of her thin form, it seemed the grasping legs of a tarantula reached for him. If she caught him, he was as good as dead. “I didn’t know she attended here.”
“If you’d asked, I’d have told you, but you’ve had a single focus since last night.”
Rubbing his hand over his head, Willard accepted the truth. “Guess I have. I’ll catch up with you at the car.” He stepped out of the pew and headed in the opposite direction of Betty. He hoped she hadn’t seen him look her way. He knew with certainty if she had, he’d pay for it.
After sidestepping people clustered in conversations, he finally reached the foyer. He looked around, but couldn’t see Audrey anywhere. She’d disappeared while Roger distracted him. Willard groaned and returned to the sanctuary.
Roger sidled next to him. “You should check the fellowship hall, Romeo.”
Willard slapped his forehead in mock relief. “You’re brilliant. Thank you for saving me from myself, friend.” Willard turned his head from side to side, looking for a doorway that might lead to the hall.
“You don’t remember where it is, do you?”
“Guess it’s been too long since I’ve been here.” He followed Roger to the hall. He scanned the crowd in the room but didn’t see her anywhere. His shoulders slumped and he shoved his hands in his pockets. Somehow she’d slipped past him.
“Come on, buddy.” Roger headed toward the door. “Let’s get back to the ranch before Betty corners you. Maybe we can catch the Giants and Dodgers game on the radio.”
Willard looked at his watch. If they left now, they’d return to the ranch in time. “All right. Dad will like the company. I’ll find Audrey another time. Maybe she’s a figment of my imagination anyway.”
“Sure she is.” They laughed as they exited the church and found the car.
Forty minutes later they settled into the great room at the ranch house. While Roger lived in the hands’ building, he spent most of his non-work hours in the great Room with Willard. An immense stone fireplace—a mosaic of stones his father had hauled in from the corners of the ranch—dominated one wall of the room. It had a voracious appetite for wood, but kept the space warm even on the coldest days.
Roger grabbed the checkerboard and settled at the small table in front of the fire with Willard. The chairs creaked as they sank onto them. The sweet scent of spiced cider filled the air as Willard’s mother brought each man a steaming mug.
Father gently fiddled with the knob on the radio, his ear pressed against the radio’s speaker, as he tried to pick up the football game. He fumbled up and down the dial and grumbled when he couldn’t find the game after several minutes. Reluctantly, he settled on NBC’s broadcast of Sammy Kaye’s Sunday Serenade. “Guess we’ll have to wait for updates, boys. So, tell me about Pastor Evans’ sermon.”
Willard grimaced and waited. He dreaded Father’s sharp words when he learned how unfocused Willard had been. He studied the checkerboard intently. The silence stretched, and Willard knew Father had a bead on him. Come on, Roger. He kicked Roger under the table to help him along. When he looked up, Roger wore a big grin that shifted into an innocent look.
“It was a moving sermon on service, Mr. Johnson.” Roger jumped two of Willard’s checkers and slammed his checker at the edge. “King me. Pastor Evans challenged us to stretch our definition of service. We can serve no matter where we are and what we do.”
“Sounds like a good one.”
“Yes, sir.”
Relief flooded Willard when he snuck a look at Father and saw his eyes take on the faraway glow they wore when he focused on the radio. After a few minutes Father settled back in his chair. He picked up the latest issue of the North Platte Daily Bulletin and read it with intense focus.
Willard studied the checkerboard and carefully countered each move Roger made with a checker. He couldn’t afford to let Roger jump two pieces at a time if he wanted to win. The mantle clock ticked loudly in the quiet room. At one thirty, the soft strains of music were interrupted when the radio crackled to life with a news bulletin.
“From the NBC news room in New York: President Roosevelt said in a statement today that the Japanese have attacked Pearl Harbor … Hawaii from the air. I'll repeat that, President Roosevelt says that the Japanese have attacked Pearl Harbor in Hawaii from the air. This bulletin came to you from the NBC news room in New York.”
Willard’s stomach fell as if he’d swallowed a heavy stone. The announcer’s words echoed through his mind. There must be a mistake. How could the Japanese have reached Hawaii? It simply couldn’t be true. No bomber had the range to sneak up undetected like that. But as dread covered his heart, he knew it must be possible. Otherwise, it wouldn’t be on the radio. This wasn’t like Orson Welles’ broadcast of the “The War of the Worlds,” was it?
“Did he say Pearl Harbor? What about the Oklahoma?” Father’s soft words echoed through the quiet room.
The radio’s noise retreated as Willard turned toward his father. The man hadn’t wanted Andrew to join the Navy. Willard’s younger brother had marched forward with exuberance. He’d see the world, kiss the foreign girls, and return home with enough tall tales for a lifetime. A Japanese attack hadn’t figured into his plans. This couldn’t be how his life ended.
“Father. Look at me. Are you okay?” Willard forced his voice to be strong. He willed himself to move to his father’s side. Shake color back into his face. Yet he remained chained to his chair.
“Did he say the Japanese bombed Pearl Harbor?” The blood continued to drain from Father’s face until it turned pasty white. “Surely, they’ve made a mistake.”
“He could be wrong. Anyway, it’s Sunday. Andrew was off the ship looking for a church. We’ll hear from Andrew. I’m sure he’s fine.” Willard looked at Father. Everything had to be fine. The news must be wrong. Or the Japanese had killed Father’s favorite son, and Willard knew he’d be a poor substitute.