Along Waters of Sunshine and Shadow

by Ava Miles

  “Come on,” Alice said, leading them inside.

  Rows of machines filled the space, operated by thousands of women dressed in gray uniforms just like the one Alice wore. Of course, everyone wore the same hairstyle—a V-roll covered with a hairnet—to keep it from getting caught in the machinery.

  “We make all kinds of aircraft here,” Alice told her. “I work on the B-29 propellers over there. It’s tough work, but I love it. Heck, all of us women here are glad we do some heavy lifting. We know our boys are working hard.”

  Some of the women quickly waved and then focused back on what they were doing.

  “Those machines seem to be going so fast,” Anna observed.

  She’d thought about working in a plant during her summer vacation last year, but her mother had been dead set against it. One of her friend’s daughters had lost an arm in a machinery accident. Anna hadn’t been deterred, but the plant manager hadn’t wanted to train her for such a short time of employment. She certainly wouldn’t have quit her teaching position. Instead, she’d used her extra time to volunteer at the hospital, something she’d decided to give up now that Noah was back and school was starting again at the end of the month. The USO was closer and, honestly, less emotionally draining.

  “You can’t sleep on this job, let me tell you,” Alice said. “Then again, I bet Noah couldn’t sleep on his either.”

  “What?” he asked, turning his head away from the factory floor to look at her.

  “Never mind,” she said. “Okay, you two. I have to grab my coffee and get back to work. Anna, I’ll let you know how my date goes.”

  “Have fun,” she said, making a move to hug her friend. She stopped at the last second. Would it be inappropriate to hug her at her workplace?

  “What did you stop for?” Alice asked, giving her a bear hug and then stepping back. “Noah, you want one?”

  He blinked for a moment. “No, I’m good. We’ll let you get back to work. You tell your fellow workers…thank you for me, okay?”

  Anna felt her heart melt, and Alice must have been equally affected because she punched him in the shoulder. “Oh, you’re a sweetheart even if you’re an egghead sometimes. Get out of here before you make me cry.”

  “I didn’t mean—”

  “Go!” Alice said and hurried off across the concrete floors toward her station.

  Noah took one last look before they walked back toward the door. Outside, he turned back again to look at the exterior of the building, soaking up every detail, and she was feeling pretty proud of herself by the time they slid into the car.

  “Thank you for bringing me here,” he told her as he put the car in gear and drove them out of the plant. “I take back almost everything I’ve ever said about your fine city and its participation in the war effort. The women of Chicago deserve a whole passel of Silver Stars, if you ask me.”

  She bit her lip to keep from smiling. Gotcha, she thought. Oh, Alice could keep her dress for helping her! “I’ll be sure to tell Alice you said so.”

  He cocked his brow. “I still don’t like all the bowling at the USO and croquet playing on Lake Michigan though, and don’t think I ever will.”

  “I can live with that,” she said, trying to keep the glee from her expression.

  “Of course, I know when I’ve walked into an ambush,” he told her, his tone droll. “Tiger Anna and Onion-Peeler Alice could have single-handedly taken down the Nazis.”

  She started laughing. “Onion-Peeler?”

  “Never mind,” Noah said, grinning at her. “Where to, my beautiful strategist?”

  Only one place came to mind. “Home.”

  Chapter 17

  “Noah,” Anna called. “Come listen to the radio. We dropped some giant bomb on Hero-something in Japan. President Truman’s talking about it.”

  Finally, solid news. Today marked the sixth of August and Noah was trying not to focus on how many days were left until his self-imposed deadline was up.

  He rose from his seat at the kitchen table and walked swiftly into the parlor. Anna turned up the radio, and they both leaned toward it as if it were a fire in winter.

  “More power than twenty thousand tons of TNT,” Noah heard the president say.

  His whole body seemed to rock back on its heels. He’d worked with TNT over there. Twenty thousand tons? He couldn’t imagine the devastation a bomb like that must have wreaked. He listened as President Truman continued his speech, talking about Pearl Harbor and payback. Part of him wondered if the bloodshed would ever end. History was full of bloody paybacks.

  “That has to mean we’re close to the end, right?” Anna asked.

  Part of him wanted to shush her so he wouldn’t miss anything. “Truman’s certainly made a statement to the enemy, that’s for sure.”

  “An atomic bomb?” she asked. “Harnessing the power of the universe? Goodness, that sounds incredible. I don’t even know what that means, but it must be big.”

  He gave in and put his hand on her shoulder. “Shh…let’s hear the rest.”

  Noah rubbed his hands together as the president talked about destroying every productive enterprise in Japan—their docks, factories, and communications. This was the kind of thing he and the other boys had done in Europe.

  As the president went on about how Japan’s leaders shouldn’t have turned down the Allies’ ultimatum at Potsdam for them to surrender, Noah could only agree. Uncle Sam wouldn’t have issued terms for peace unless it had a Plan B. This atomic bomb seemed to be the start of a new air campaign. The Japs couldn’t keep going against a weapon like that. God, he hoped they’d surrender. The president was laying down another ultimatum, and if they didn’t fold soon, more people were going to lose their lives. Lots more.

  “I can’t believe they spent two billion dollars on it,” Anna whispered, her hand over her heart. “My heavens, I had no idea. Oh please God, let Japan surrender now.”

  Noah put his hand on her shoulder as the president said, “What has been done is the greatest achievement of organized science in history.”

  “Turn that radio down,” Mrs. Sims shouted. “I have a headache.”

  Anna took a few steps away from him in the direction of the stairway. “Mother, we dropped some new bomb on Japan. The president is talking. You should come and listen.”

  “I don’t care what the news says,” she called back. “It doesn’t change anything for me. Turn it down.”

  Didn’t change anything for her? People were still dying out there. Other people’s sons. Noah didn’t wait for Anna to follow Mrs. Sims’ instructions. He lowered the volume himself. Fighting that woman was a lose-lose situation, he’d decided. Rather like trying to take a German outpost defended by machine guns and snipers without a plan.

  “I’m sorry,” Anna said, her blue eyes pinched at the corners like they usually got when she was upset.

  “It’s fine,” he said, putting his arm around her. “We heard what we needed. Hopefully the Japanese will give up after this.”

  Surely it would accelerate their surrender. He’d taken to chatting with some of the other guys in the neighborhood, and they were all wondering how much longer the other side could hold out. Even Brian Dougherty was talking about possibly heading to the Pacific if the war didn’t end soon, although he hadn’t told his wife that. Noah understood. No one wanted to talk about it.

  “Let’s have some coffee,” she said, taking his hand.

  They walked back to the kitchen, and he watched as she lit a cigarette. She didn’t smoke much, but sometimes he teased her about it. He hadn’t picked them back up. They made him jittery somehow, and he was jumpy enough without them. Hell, yesterday, he’d heard a loud crack on the way to Anna’s house and he’d instantly gone to the ground in a crouch. After scanning the street, he’d caught sight of Frankie O’Keefe and Willie Buckley playing baseball. The ball had hit the bat just right apparently, but Noah had registered it as something more menacing. Thank God no one had seen him. He’d bee
n so keyed up—and ashamed—he’d continued on past Anna’s house, walking in the neighborhood until he was calm again.

  Going to the Pacific was only going to make things worse, and he wondered if his days as “Lucky Strike” might just come to an end over there. Man, he hoped this bomb was going to get through to those stubborn Japs.

  But they didn’t surrender right away, and Noah found himself staring sightlessly out the window of his bedroom at the rectory. The suspense was eating at him, just like the notion that he should be over there helping the boys end this thing. He didn’t go down to the library that night, not wanting to talk about his current struggle with Niall. The man thankfully respected his need to mull things over on his own.

  When the Army dropped another atomic bomb on Nagasaki three days later and the Japs still didn’t surrender, he wanted to pound the table. He’d spent some time doing the math on how much land mass would be affected by the kind of TNT they were talking about. Heck, if their boys kept dropping bombs like this, there would be nothing left of the stinking island.

  Seeing the calculations eased his mind, but it didn’t ease the tension in his chest. If this new weapon didn’t make the enemy cower and give up, nothing would. He should go and do his part. Anna seemed to know he was struggling because the silence between them had started to grow over meals and drives along Lake Michigan over the next couple days. She would support him. That he knew. But neither one of them could stand the thought of him leaving again.

  He tried to reassure her by bringing her some roses from Mrs. Fitzsimmons’ garden. The woman had finally cornered him about coming for tea and pound cake, and no one had exaggerated the quality of her cake. He’d eaten every bite even though his appetite was basically nonexistent these days, which was disheartening since it had just begun to improve.

  The roses were starting to wilt in the vase when Anna burst into the kitchen where he was sitting with another cup of coffee, looking frazzled.

  “Didn’t you tell me to pick you up at five-thirty?” he asked. “Your mother wasn’t happy to see me, but she told me to pour myself a cup of coffee—”

  “Japan surrendered!” she yelled. “I was late coming back from the market when Brendan Dougherty ran out of his house and told me. Then Robbie came out, jumping up and down, and I ran the rest of the way home. Oh, Noah, could it really be over?”

  God, he wanted it to be true. Only four days had passed since the last A-bomb had been dropped on the ninth. He rose, his muscles locked with tension. “Let’s turn the broadcast on.”

  She dumped the grocery bag in her hands on the table, knocking over the sugar bowl in her haste, and together they dashed into the parlor. They caught the broadcast in the middle, but when he heard President Truman say, “the unconditional surrender of Japan,” Noah felt his knees turn weak. It was true.

  “I need to sit down,” he said, and suddenly he was on the floor.

  “Noah!” Anna said, crouching down beside him.

  “I’m okay,” he said, not mentioning he was seeing stars. “It’s over, Anna. It’s over!”

  She launched herself at him, and he fell onto his back. “Thank you, God. Oh, thank you!”

  The president continued, “…the formal signing of the surrender terms at the earliest possible moment.”

  When Noah heard that General MacArthur would be arranging the surrender, he was relieved. Nobody messed with the general. If Japan was planning anything, MacArthur would ferret it out.

  “Oh, Noah, could the war really be over for good?” Anna asked, her hands resting on his chest. “Part of me just can’t believe it.”

  “Sounds like it,” he said, glad he was lying down. He wasn’t sure he could stay steady on his feet. “The president wouldn’t talk about the Allies suspending fighting if it weren’t.”

  Of course, as a solider, he’d been trained to be suspicious. On two occasions, the Jerries had held up white flags of surrender only to start firing on them as they moved in. Good men had been killed with those feints, and he’d torn one of those makeshift flags in two after looking at the bodies lining the ground.

  Cheering rose up outside the house, and Anna hurried over to the window. “Everyone is coming out into the street. Oh, Noah, it’s like the day when peace was declared in Europe.”

  He pushed off the floor and had to shake his head to clear it. It dawned on him that he wouldn’t have to go to the Pacific.

  He could make a life with Anna, a life he’d only dreamed about.

  He could look to the future and see something besides more violence and gore. Anna crouched down beside him, and he wrapped her up in his arms.

  “Oh, Noah, it’s over,” she said, her voice breaking. “You’ll be safe. You won’t have to go back. Oh, thank you, God.”

  “What are you two doing on the floor?” Mrs. Sims snapped. “Anna, get up. This is totally improper.”

  Anna rose. “Mom, the war is over! President Truman just announced it. Japan surrendered. Isn’t it wonderful?”

  “Is that why everyone’s cheering?” Her mom reached out a hand and stumbled to the chair. “But Martin still won’t be coming back.”

  Anna crouched in front of her. “But no more boys are going to die, Mom. Isn’t that worth something? Now we can all move forward with our lives.”

  Noah agreed with her sentiment—it was worth celebrating that nobody else would pay the price for their freedom—but the war had changed everything and everybody. He’d seen it in Europe, and he saw it every time he walked through Anna’s neighborhood and saw those white flags with the gold stars. Good men and women weren’t coming back, and their absence would always be felt. Mrs. Sims was a testimony to that.

  “I’m glad for other mothers,” Mrs. Sims said.

  They were charitable words, and for a moment Noah had hope. Would Mrs. Sims be able to move forward like Anna had said?

  “Oh, I’m tired now,” she said, dabbing her forehead with her black handkerchief. “You two go on if you’d like. I…don’t want to celebrate.”

  “But everyone is out in the streets, Mom,” Anna said, placing her hand on Mrs. Sims’ knee. “Come out for a little bit. It will do you good.”

  “I have to work tomorrow,” she said.

  “I doubt it, Mom. Everyone will be off, even if it is a Wednesday.”

  Mrs. Sims removed Anna’s hand. “Anna, please. Don’t tell me what’s good for me. You don’t know. No one does.”

  She pulled herself up out of the chair and shuffled slowly out of the parlor, leaving a pocket of solemn silence that felt at odds with the cheering going on outside. Noah didn’t much feel like going outside either, in truth; he found himself understanding Mrs. Sims. What was there to celebrate really? There had been so much death and destruction. So much loss. The cost had been so high.

  But he went anyway, for Anna. Dinnertime seemed to have been forgotten by everyone in light of the news. Some of the neighbors hugged him as if he were a long-lost friend. Other men pumped his hand and punched him in the shoulder, talking about Uncle Sam and the boys taking it to the Japs. The younger boys launched themselves at his legs, and little Robbie Dougherty held out his hands so he’d lift him up for a hug. The little tyke always had a warm welcome for him, and Noah looked forward to it now.

  But it was Katherine Kenna who broke his heart. She pressed her face into his chest and started sobbing, saying the surrender had come too late for her fiancé. Her grief pinged his own and images of his fallen friends filtered through his mind. Noah comforted her as best he could.

  He felt like he was looking at the scene through a glass wall. That he was going through the motions.

  The noise of the growing crowd started to make him feel jittery, and he downed a shot of whiskey Brian Dougherty shoved into his hands. The man was carrying around a bottle, holding up a “victory” shot glass for everyone to use. Noah’s head was already pounding by the time Anna suggested they go downtown to join the larger celebration. The sun was setting, and a
ll he could think was how he wished it were later than eight so he’d have a good excuse to go back to the rectory.

  But Anna’s eyes were shining with joy, and he didn’t have the heart to tell her. She drove them as far as she could on Michigan Ave., given the crowd of revelers thronging the streets, and then parked on a side street. There were people everywhere, thousands of them packed onto the warm August pavement. The sky was dark, but the city lights seemed as bright as sparklers to Noah, and the noise was deafening. People were crying, laughing, and whistling shrilly amidst the sounds of noise makers and the honks of parked cars.

  It felt like it was all closing in on him. Noah’s entire body was sweating. He shoved away some guy who tried to kiss Anna. She gave him a concerned look, but kept hold of his hand, thank God. If they got separated in this crowd, he would have trouble finding her, and he didn’t like that one bit.

  Faces of cheering people swam in his vision, and when someone slammed into him from behind, he turned around and pushed back. The guy shouted at him, but Noah couldn’t make out the words over the ringing in his ears. He began to tug Anna through the crowd, looking for an open space free of people. God, he couldn’t breathe.

  “Noah, what are you doing?” she asked, pulling on his hand.

  “It’s not safe,” he called over his shoulder. “Too many people. Too many people.”

  He could feel panic building, his heart racing. If he could have run through the crowd, he would have. He pushed people aside in his haste to cut a path through. One drunk guy didn’t budge, but when he looked at Noah, he hastily moved out of the way. Good decision, Noah thought. It took four more blocks of pulling Anna through the mob, but he finally found a break in the crowd. When they were clear of the throng, he bent at the waist, sucking in giant gulps of air.

  “Noah, are you okay?” she asked, crouching down until she was eye level.

  “Too many people,” he said. “Can’t breathe.”

  “Oh, honey,” she said, using an endearment he’d never heard before. “Why didn’t you say something?”