Honey said, “You have to remember, you’re a Navy wife now.”
Eliza flopped backward onto her niece Rosemarie’s small bed. “Those words don’t even make sense to me. A Navy wife? I don’t know how to be one of those. The other wives on base won’t even talk to me, did you know that? When I shop at the commissary, they get all quiet and stare at me.”
“Do you even try?”
“No,” said Eliza. “I shouldn’t have to try.”
When she wrote letters to George, who was still away at sea, she didn’t know what to say. What did he want to know? She couldn’t be sure (doubted, in fact) that he was getting any of the letters she sent anyway. She didn’t know him well enough to know what he wanted to hear about. Did he love hearing about the turning of the season, and how the sycamores were changing color? Did he want to hear the gossip Honey gleaned at church?
Did he want to know that she’d failed at finding a teaching job? Would he mind that instead she was working as a riveter? He’d told her flat-out before he left that he didn’t want any wife of his working at all, and it had turned into the only fight they’d had in the three weeks they’d been together. Once he was gone, she’d chosen to ignore his wishes. He couldn’t have been serious, could he? George couldn’t really expect her to sit in a closed room, just waiting for his return.
And it had been exciting, taking the job. Getting her blues to wear, pulling her hair back, making sure her nails were short enough that her hand fit inside the PBY’s narrow wing blade. She loved the feeling of the rivet gun in her hand, placing its drive shaft against the shank, actuating the hammer with the rivet set. She was good at it, and the noise and smell of metal on metal pleased her. The other girls were great, too, and she had formed a fast bond with six of them – they went everywhere together when they weren’t working. They’d already got a reputation in downtown San Diego as the Loud Girls, the ones who whooped and hollered until much too late into the night. Josephine was her favorite, and the fastest of their lot. One night she’d taken Eliza to a bar near the marina, and when the sailors had come in, Josephine had simply chosen the most handsome one and taken him home with her. Home! With her! The next day at work, she’d apologized for leaving Eliza behind. “But he was too good to waste, honey. I had to get him before anyone else did,” she’d explained.
Honey yanked the towel Eliza was folding out of her hands and refolded it. “That’s ridiculous. You have to try to make friends with them.”
“I can’t belong to their little club. I don’t even look like them. Their hair is always all . . .”
“Done?” Honey reached out and tugged one of Eliza’s long, messy locks. “Whereas yours is up in a kerchief most of the time.”
“That’s how we wear it at work.”
“But do you have to wear it like that when you’re not there? A few bobby pins and I could . . .”
Eliza swatted away her hand. “I might not stay.”
“For dinner?”
That wasn’t what she had meant – but she didn’t admit it. “A couple of girls are meeting downtown, and I . . .”
Honey sighed. “Go, then. You always do.”
Joshua had been right – it was cozy in the barn’s loft. Hearing the soft noises of the animals below warmed Eliza as she made the small bed. She couldn’t wait to pull the dark woollen blanket around her, raising the thick red quilt with it. She’d be toasty. And safe.
She came down the ladder with care, glad she’d brought her work jeans with her. They’d come in handy here, more so than this dadgummed skirt.
Joshua had finished moving himself out to the small shed and was watering the animals.
Eliza said, “Are you sure you’ll be all right out there? Won’t it be cold? Or too small?”
“The shed’s just got tools in it now. Plenty of room for a rucksack. And I don’t get cold easily.”
“But I’m taking your bed.” Again, Eliza stupidly blushed. She didn’t want to analyze the response she was having to the kindness of this man. She was only taking a job. That was all.
“Just a bed. Gotta sleep somewhere, right? I’m just sorry I don’t have a more official place for you to stay. Are you sure you don’t mind? Because Mrs Stillwell over in town rents a room and I could . . .”
“And have to talk to people?” Eliza smiled. “I’d much rather be out here, away from all that.”
“About that,” said Joshua, not meeting her eyes. He tested the strength of a board in the barn wall by pushing on it, as if the endurance of the wood were the only thing that mattered. “People will talk.”
“I know. I guess that’s more your problem than mine.”
“How do you figure?”
Eliza reached over a stall door to touch the muzzle of an older mare. It huffed against her palm and she smiled. “No one knows me here. I’m an itinerant worker, just passing through. A divorcée.” The new word felt strange in her mouth. “You’re the one with the reputation to lose. You’re the one who lives here.”
Joshua shrugged and smiled. “I don’t care.”
But they would care. Eliza knew everyone in the closest town, Cypress Hollow – everyone for a thirty-mile radius, for that matter – would care. “We’ll see, I suppose.”
“A divorcée, you said?”
Eliza focused on the scratchy velvet of the horse’s lips. “Not quite yet. But I will be soon.”
“What happened?”
Eliza silently gripped the wood of the stall’s door.
“Never mind,” Joshua stuttered. “None of my business. We’ll start the framing tomorrow. Good night to you.”
The words were tumbling out of her mouth before she could stop them. “I might not be here in the morning.” She couldn’t guarantee she wouldn’t run. She couldn’t trust herself not to, after all. He should be warned. It was only fair.
“That’s fine, but I hope you will be.” A brief smile, and he was gone.