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Berthea’s cramped office once housed a cloakroom. An instantaneous memory overwhelmed Addie—the clinging odor of wet wool, muddy rubber boots, boys’ sharp jabs, and girls’ whispered secrets. For her first few years of school, her classmates treated her like a stranger.
Then Kate came to town, and someone finally shared secrets with her. She didn’t even recall how their friendship began. For her, it took some time to feel comfortable, but she gradually let a few of her own secrets slip out.
Settled into an oak chair near Berthea’s desk, her pulse drummed in her ears. If Berthea didn’t understand, what would she do? She glanced around the walls, pausing on a framed World War I discharge just like Norman’s, and his advice calmed her.
Don’t have t’ know everything ‘bout the future to do somethin’ today. When ya feel somethin’ strong, it’s time to act.
“There now.” Berthea’s warm eyes, brighter against her royal blue cardigan, encouraged Addie to begin.
“You know Kate lost Alexandre, but...” Addie lowered her voice. “Can anyone else hear me?”
Fingers laced under her chin, Berthea leaned forward. Addie wrapped her leg around the chair rung and whispered. “Kate saw Alexandre on Christmas Day, and she’s expecting a baby now.”
Berthea’s eyebrows arched, but she didn’t frown. “Hmm...”
“This will be so hard for her in a strange place and...”
Berthea’s chin rose a fraction of an inch.
“So... with Harold gone to St. Louis, I... ” How can you expect my mother to bless this strange state of affairs? Addie rubbed an old burn mark on her wrist The wall clock ticked louder and louder.
“I want to go to London to help Kate.” The words streamed like a fast train. Intrigued by the noticeable alteration in Berthea’s expression, she plunged ahead.
“I’ve been thinking about this all along, but the idea of volunteering for the Red Cross came to me this morning. The lady down at the office said—such a thing is possible, Berthea.”
“Well.” Berthea glanced over her shoulder at Mr. Henderson’s office door. “I wish I had half your spirit. Being a school secretary is one thing, but to work on a Red Cross ship, take on a newborn baby, and London—”
Her encouraging hand squeeze kept Addie in reality, though she could hardly believe her ears.
“If you think God wants you to do this, maybe you ought to go. You’ve got a level head on your shoulders, so I know you’re not being flighty.”
“You... Even with Harold coming home soon?”
Berthea dabbed her eyes. “This wretched war. Your news from Kate, how they go without butter and applaud at a packet of cheese or tins of sausage over there, and now with a baby coming... Things are so dire, and you’re as resourceful as can be. Your instinct is right. Kate needs you.”
“But I thought...” Addie faltered. “My garden. I would hate to leave it—”
“George and I can tend that.” She caught her upper lip with her teeth. “We can ask Jane’s advice.”
“I’d hate to leave her, too.”
“I haven’t been much of a friend to her, but that can change. I’m learning to adjust better. Our whole nation, the whole world...” But she said nothing about Harold.
“I’ll find out more this afternoon. I don’t know how Harold will—”
“Has he written you lately?”
“No.”
“A letter came a couple of weeks ago, and...” Berthea’s pause lasted forever. “This will be a shock, but a St. Louis infantry unit has registered Harold.”
Addie felt her jaw drop like the power takeoff lever. What she saw in Berthea’s eyes stunned her—sincerity and pain.
“I’ve been hoping he’d let you know, but George and I had decided to tell you tonight. His unit deploys in April.” Her cheeks fired. “I apologize. Harold has never— I should have known something was wrong, starting with the county fair three years ago.”
“The fair?”
“Don’t you remember, your first summer with us? Harold said Bledsoe women always bring canned goods to the fair. That should have alerted me, but I was so...”
Addie vaguely recalled seeing her name on jars she’d never touched. At the time, she thought Harold had used foresight to keep her from being embarrassed. But now, this news consumed her. “A unit has accepted him?”
“It’s awful he didn’t tell you. Here, take a tissue, dear.”
“I’m sure he wrote you because of the farm—”
“Don’t make excuses for him. Hasn’t he written you at all?”
“Once, and I sent him reports on the stock.” In the hallway, boisterous students hurried to recess. “Actually, it’s not much different when he’s here.”
Berthea sniffed. “I’m so sorry about his behavior. I wish there was something I could do.”
A mix of emotions swarmed Addie. Harold’s dreams were coming true at last, but he hadn’t bothered to tell her. Her limbs went weak, and the tiny space seemed to shrink in on her. She was a hen’s feather floating on air. Berthea might have to see her to the door.
v
“Mrs. Harold Bledsoe?”
“Yes.”
“We have an order to run a telephone line and install the apparatus. Not supposed to do this till warmer weather, but as long as we’re out here working on your mother-in-law’s system—”
“Do you need to come inside?”
“Not for a few hours. If you show us where you’d like the telephone, we can come in later, if you don’t mind.”
Considering all the earth-shattering things going on today, this decision seemed about as important as the pigs’ swill.
“Maybe between the window and the cupboard?”
“Should work.” One of the workers made a mark with a thick pencil. “You sure it’s okay if we install it when you’re not here?”
“Yes, but I won’t be gone long.”
The men left, and Addie flopped on the davenport, exhausted. Less than two weeks ago, she painted this room. The rosy hue soothed her, though Harold would hate it.
Now, she would have a telephone right in the kitchen. And the Army had accepted Harold—for the 80th time, she rehearsed the news.
The dry velvet of the davenport scratched against her skin, and she closed her eyes to a whirlwind of images. Even as she’d listened to that old internal tirade outside Berthea’s office, Harold had anticipated his deployment.
A twinge of hurt crept in, but compared to facing him in the chicken house, this seemed minor. One thing he’d shown her without a doubt: he had no intention of treating her as his wife.
Across the driveway, the workmen kept at their job. Would they hide something so important from their wives?
Oddly, Berthea’s news grounded Addie, like the wires the men attached to a pole across the yard. Harold regularly accused her of hiding things, but he hid even more. Coming now, his secrecy confirmed her desire to help Kate. And the way might be opening up before her like the Red Sea for Moses and the Israelites.
She dozed, woke ravenous, and devoured leftovers from Berthea’s Sunday dinner—roast chicken, mashed potatoes, and some Jell-O fruit salad. That brought Kate’s last letter to mind.
No tinned fruit to be had until month’s end, so Mrs. T is saving her points to buy some. The soap ration is cut again, and no sugar for weeks. Never thought I’d be starving for eggs, butter and toast.
In another air raid warning last night, we hurried down to the tube station. A single plane had broken through the clouds, but the fighters got the blighter before he did much damage.
Makeshift shanties spring up all over the city. Football field-sized areas welcome recent bomb victims.
Things are bleak here, but Mrs. T met an old friend in the station. Seeing them so excited reminded me how much our friendship means.
Energy flooded her, and when the faint one-o’clock whistle sounded from Halberton, she could wait no longer. She started the coupe. At Jane’s, Simon skulked around the northwest corner of the house with a long stick.
Greening trees added a springy touch to Halberton’s streets, and hatless folks raked their yards or cleared garden patches. Even the sidewalks looked brighter somehow. Elma’s smile greeted Addie as she walked in.
“Hello. I just hung up from a return call.” She reached for a notepad. “A Red Cross ship arrives in New York Harbor on May 30th to reload for her third journey to an undisclosed port relatively near London.
“More specifics will be available from New York, or later, aboard ship.” Elma pushed her glasses up the bridge of her nose. “Six civilian slots remain open—kitchen jobs, organizing supplies, that sort of thing. Are you interested?”
“How long does a voyage usually take?”
“The average—let me see.” Elma consulted her notes. “Oh yes, from 16 days to ah—three weeks—requires security clearance, an up-to-date passport, proof of citizenship, statement of purpose, and you would have to sign a safety waiver. We can help you with all that.”
“Did they say when the ship would leave?”
“Usually within a week of arrival, so you would need to be in New York by May 30th.”
Excitement and trembling fought in Addie’s stomach. She could be with Kate even before her baby came. “When do you need to know?”
“The sooner, the better, lots of paperwork to attend to. If you decide to move ahead, we’ll need a birth certificate to start with.”
“Thank you. I—I’ll get back to you.”
Standing before the Myrna Loy poster again, Addie focused on the glint in her eye. Join Miss Loy. Do your part. Could it be that joining Kate could be her part for the war effort? What suffering was involved in that? It seemed like far too much joy to count.
Addie opened the door of the coupe, and her next guidance came.
A wobbly bicycle careened around the Fourth Street corner bearing Fern McCluskey, who clung to a handlebar with one hand and grabbed for her hat brim with the other. Addie almost yelled, “Be careful.”
At the same time, Paulie backed his coal truck diagonally toward the mercantile’s corner chute.
The scene unfolded like a slow-motion movie, and seeing what would happen next, Addie thrust out her hand. But Fern’s concentration on her new spring hat and her high heels’ tight fit on the bike pedals assured what happened next.
Paulie’s perfect aim escaped Fern’s notice, and she pedaled blithely on. When the truck halted in the intersection, one of the gate latches gave way, sending coal onto the street. The other latch broke and an inevitable pile formed, while a conglomeration of rubber tires rolled every which way.
Their diameters garnered Addie’s attention—from small to bulky tractor size, but still, Fern remained unaware. Powered by the truck’s slant, one tire passed in front of her and a second smashed into her front wheel. She yelped and swerved toward the growing coal pile. And then came the sound effects.
Paulie’s door screeched open and he sprinted toward Fern, who sprawled helpless on the lumpy black bed. Her screams drew spectators like flies.
“Ma’am, I’m sure sorry. Didn’t mean to cause you no trouble.”
Fern planted her elbow in the slippery pile. “Any trouble?” She launched into a shriek. “You’ve just wrecked my new outfit. And you could have killed me! Trouble? Why, you’re nothing but trouble. I don’t know why they let you out on the roads.”
Paulie extended his gloved hand, but Fern waved him away. A renegade breeze whipped her skirt as she attempted to stand. Then she spied Addie and sputtered, “What’re you doing here?”
Minor Randolph ran out the side door. “What? Who made this?” He loped into the street. “Who’s going to clean up this mess?”
Paulie doffed his cap. “That’d be me, Mr. Randolph. Looks like a latch busted, but if you could help Mrs—”
Minor boosted Fern under the armpits as she pawed the air and grasped for her smashed hat. “Somebody ought to prosecute that... How dare he...”
“Now, Fern, Paulie’s just doing his job.”
“So am I! We’re supposed to save on gas, and I was just—”
Walt joined the growing crowd and Fern limped into his arms. Minor kicked at a couple of tires as Paulie rescued his shovel and set to work, beset by Minor.
“Why were you hauling old rubber tires in with the coal, anyway?”
“Doing my part for the troops, Mr. Randolph. Left half a load of coal at the gas station, so they asked me if I’d tote the tires over to Benson for the rubber drive.”
“Well, hurry up with this.”
“You bet. If you want to help, I got another shovel in the front.”
Minor muttered a curse. “I have customers to tend to. Poor Fern broke a heel on top of everything else. Try to be more careful, will you?” He huffed back inside. Folks went on about their business, but Addie still stood there.
“You okay, miss? Looks like that lady don’t like you much, neither.”
“I think you’re right, Paulie, but I saw the whole thing. You didn’t do anything wrong. Fern just wasn’t paying attention to where she was going.”
The urge to laugh almost overtook her, but at the same time, she felt sorry for Fern. Nothing she said about Paulie was true. In fact, she was the one deserving to be barred from travel.
Paulie merely scratched his head. “It’s all right. We all make plenty of mistakes, but I don’t let ’em get me down. My pap used to say, ‘Don’t pick up your mistakes and carry ’em with you. Let ’em lay there and use ’em for stepping stones.”
Back in the coupe, Addie gathered her thoughts. She needed Paulie’s precise message. Don’t carry your mistakes with you—use them...
A cavalcade of her errors filed before her. She hadn’t seen what Harold was really like, had thought his behavior was her fault no matter how badly he treated her, and was so slow to learn from Kate and Jane.
The list went on and on—letting someone else control her like Mama, allowing fear of Harold’s anger to smother her intuition, and neglecting her own desires. And over and over, she’d refused the quiet voice that declared her worthy and loveable.
“But I can learn. I can stop carrying my mistakes and start over.” She set the coupe in motion and bypassed the bedraggled Fern, leaning on Walt en route to the bank.
The yarn still sat on the seat, and she rolled down her window for some fresh air. Soon she might breathe the salty Atlantic. The possibility swelled like a rainbow, but at the same time, doubt reared its head. What could she be thinking to consider such a move?
“Jane will hear me out, and won’t mince words if this idea is too far-fetched.” She turned down the Pike’s driveway.
Whack... thunk. In the distance, Simon rounded his cabin, striking a tree now and then.
Jane fished tulips from the muck and nodded in Simon’s direction. “He’s made up some new game. It keeps him occupied.”
While Addie reached for a distressed tulip, Jane shifted on her weather-worn stool and wiped the back of her hand across her forehead, leaving a black trail.
“What’s going on with you?”
“I brought you some yarn and need your listening ear.”
“Something’s happened. Those brown eyes carry signs, you know.”
“Kate is in a family way.”
Jane’s face paled.
“I just talked with Elma Crandall, and at the end of May a ship needing six more volunteers leaves New York for England. I could go and help Kate.” The admission emerged so quickly, puzzlement crossed Jane’s face.
Her ragged overalls, faded plaid shirt, and mud-streaked forehead made quite the picture. She added a final touch when she scratched the end of her nose.
Addie burst out laughing. “You look so funny. You ought to see yourself.”
“You’re not the Queen of Sheba, yourself.”
Addie took stock. Already, mud dripped from her skirt and splotches peppered her legs.
“Pull up that old chair. No better place to talk than right here in the full sun. I’ve had plenty of experience with war turning everything around, but it sounds like this one may unite old friends clear across an ocean.”
“Kate’s not one to ask for help, but she needs me, more than I’m needed here—”
Jane leaned on her cane. “And what do you need?”
When Addie shut her eyes for a moment, heat built behind them. What do I want?
“Sometimes we need to stop thinking so hard and listen to what our heart says.”
“I thought if I could just figure out how to make Harold happy...” She uncovered a fledgling tulip willing to rise from its muddy captivity.
“The truth is, I’ve been so much happier with Harold gone. And now, Berthea tells me he’s deploying with a Missouri unit.”
Jane scraped at grit under her fingernails. “Berthea told you?”
“Yes. I don’t know if he would ever have let me know.”
“So what does she make of all this?”
“She’s upset with him, and said if I found a way, if I thought this was God’s will, I should go.”
Simon’s playful patter wafted in the still afternoon, and Jane mulled over the information. For a moment, Simon’s simple life seemed enviable.
“Do you think it would be wrong for me to leave?”
Sunshine formed an aura around Jane’s hair, and the top of a budding oak dispersed shade in spiked designs on the shed behind her.
“Life isn’t always black and white. I doubt it was for Kate when she decided to search for Alexandre. Maybe it’s better to leave the judgment to God, especially when it comes to judging ourselves.” Jane leaned back.
“It’s warmed up 20 degrees this afternoon, a sure mark of spring. You’ve watched for your own signs all winter, but they don’t mean a thing unless you’re ready to take action. Are you strong enough? Only you can tell, Addie.”
Driving home through mud that sucked at the wheels, Addie feared hitting a frost pothole and sliding in the ditch. But halfway there, she smiled. If she did slip off the track, George would rescue her, they’d have a good laugh about it, and Harold would never know.
In the kitchen, her new oak telephone’s black handle and receiver offered a steady buzz connecting her with the outside world. She entered the stuffy living room and opened the windows in a daze.
“I might really get to go.” She eased against the davenport’s thick arm. In a breeze lush with scents of thawing earth and budding trees, her thoughts wavered between wild dreams aboard a lurching ship and visions of Harold dashing into battle.
When she rose, late afternoon shadows decorated the yard with faint prickles of chartreuse grass poking through the soil. She stretched her arms and everything came clear. She needed something to eat, and then she’d better contact Kate right away.
