“Daniel…” Carol started.
He pulled away his hand now. “I’m going to get this straightened out.”
“He might not be here,” the guard broke in. “Sometimes he goes out for his dinner breaks.”
“Why don’t we go see?” Daniel invited, finding his most pleasant smile. He didn’t want to be pleasant. He wanted to bust heads and free Carol. But his time in the army taught him that a smile and a nod would get him much farther than a sharp word or a punch to the jaw.
“Yes, sir.”
Daniel smiled at Carol. “I’ll be back in a few minutes, and then we can get out of here.”
“Daniel, listen, I don’t think that—”
He held up his hand, shaking his head. “Let me take care of it. That’s why I’m here, right?”
Carol stepped back, looking less than convinced of Daniel’s ability to save her from jail.
Daniel followed the hapless guard up two flights of stairs, down a narrow hallway, and around a maze of desks to Sergeant Wilkes’s cubby-hole office.
“Sir?”
Wilkes looked up. “What is it?”
“This is…” The guard trailed off, looking confused.
“Corporal Daniel Scambray,” Daniel said promptly.
“He’s here about Carol Thorn.”
Wilkes had been smiling when Daniel introduced himself, but his smile fell at the mention of Carol’s name. “What do you want with her?” He waved at the guard. “You can go.”
“Yes, sir.”
As soon as the guard shut the door, Wilkes stood, holding out his hand. “It’s a pleasure to meet you Corporal Scambray, but I’m afraid I can’t help you.”
Daniel shook his hand, not surprised by the firm, almost crushing, grip. He cut through formalities to the only question that mattered. “What can I do to get her out?”
“Get her out? Corporal—”
“Call me Daniel.”
“Daniel, did she tell you why she was arrested?”
Daniel shook his head, tensing. He had initially thought it was just a case of being at the wrong place at the wrong time, but Wilkes’ concerned face and serious voice chased away that hope. “She said she wasn’t sure.”
“You were in Korea, weren’t you?”
“Yes.”
“Fighting the Communists there so they wouldn’t infiltrate our own shores.”
“Yes.”
“Carol Thorn was arrested on October 2, 1955 for associating with known Communists. In fact, we arrested her at one of the biggest meetings I have ever seen.”
Daniel sunk into a chair, shocked. “Carol isn’t a Communist.”
“She’s a danger to national security. I can’t release her at this time. I’m sorry, son.”
“Carol is not a danger to national security. She was just a…” Daniel wanted to say just a confused girl who didn’t know any better, but of course, that didn’t describe Carol. She wasn’t confused and she wasn’t a girl. She was an intelligent woman, and if she were associating with Communists, she would have done so knowingly. “She shouldn’t be here. She is not a Communist or a sympathizer. It’s impossible.”
“You’re more than welcome to visit her, but she’s not going anywhere,” Wilkes said. “Coffee?”
“No. No thanks. Thank you for your time, Sergeant Wilkes.”
“I’m sorry,” he repeated.
“I can show myself out.”
Daniel shuffled out of the police department in a daze, his mind going a hundred different directions, unable to pull together a single coherent thought. He stepped into a curtain of rain, hardly noticing the sluicing water against his face and neck. He walked down the slick street, dodging in and out of traffic and people, until he found himself outside a tall, narrow, familiar building.
He climbed the steep stairs to Carol’s old apartment, hoping he could find a dry, quiet place to pull himself together and make a plan. A man he didn’t recognize answered his knock.
“Oh, I’m sorry,” Daniel said. “I must have the wrong—”
“You’re Carol’s friend, right? Daniel?”
“Yes.”
He held out his hand. “I’m her roommate, Rodney.”
Daniel gaped. “She’s been living with a man this entire time?” He didn’t know if he wanted to cry or shout at the news. How could she live with another man? Somehow, that struck him as worse than being arrested for Communistic ties.
Rodney’s eyes widened. Perhaps he thought Daniel was going to take a swing at him. “Hey, hey, it’s nothing like that. We just split the rent. It’s cheaper. Do you want to come in? You look like hell.”
The rain pounded ominously against the roof. Daniel knew he couldn’t help Carol if he spent the night wondering around a strange city, stuck in the rain. He’d probably come down with pneumonia, and then he’d really be in trouble. “Yeah, thanks.”
“Have you been downtown to see her?” Rodney asked, stepping aside to allow Daniel to enter.
“I have.”
“She doesn’t look good, does she?” Rodney held out his hand, taking Daniel’s soaked coat. “I try to help her, to bring her food or clothes or whatever, but they don’t really like that.”
Daniel sat on the couch, noting it was a different couch than the last time he saw her. “I just don’t understand it. How could she…I mean, how could she do that? Is she really a Communist?”
Rodney flushed. “No, no, of course not. She’s not stupid or crazy, Daniel. But members of the Communist party move in her circle.” Rodney shrugged. “People who become socialists or Communists tend to be interested in the same sort of activism as Carol. That’s all.”
“What kind of activism is that?”
“Equal rights. Peace on Earth. Shit like that. They’re holding her because they want her to give up some names.”
Daniel nodded. “And of course, she refuses to speak, even if it’ll help her.”
“So what are you going to do about it?” Rodney asked, pushing his long red hair behind his ear.
Daniel pinched the bridge of his nose, a heavy stone in his stomach. In the warm apartment, the cold, damp jail seemed hundreds of miles away. Carol was more like a ghost, or a figment of his imagination, than a woman waiting patiently for him to fix the horrible mess and detangle the hopeless knot of her life. What was he going to do about it? What could he do about it? “I don’t know,” he muttered.
“I’ll do whatever I can to help,” Rodney volunteered. “She’s my best friend and she…” His voice faded, his face looking almost green.
“What?”
“And she wouldn’t have been there if it wasn’t for me.”
Daniel sighed. “Look, I’m going to need some paper, a typewriter, and a phone.”
“I have paper, but we don’t have a typewriter or a phone.”
“Do you know anybody who does?”
Rodney tilted his head, thoughtfully scratching his ear. “Yeah. May. She’s a writer for a few magazines. She could probably help.”
“Great, take me to her,” Daniel said, standing and moving to the door.
“Now?”
“Well, yeah.”
“But it’s late, and it’s raining.”
Daniel stood toe to toe with Rodney, towering over him. “Listen to me, Rodney. All that matters is Carol. If you’re going to help me, great. I appreciate it. But don’t think for one minute that I’m going to let anything stop me. Do you understand?”
Rodney nodded. “Of course, of course. Just let me grab my coat.”
“Fine.”
The two men raced into the storm, moving as quickly as they dared through town, trying to ignore the stinging cold needles of water hitting their faces and soaking through their clothes. May lived four streets east, in a tiny attic apartment very similar to Carol’s.
“I’ll do anything I can to help Carol,” May assured them, bustling through the tiny room. A plump woman with short, black hair, she seemed both pleasant and a little i
ntimidating. Her eyes were dark and intelligent, and her ever-present smile betrayed a cynical amusement at the world. “Here’s the typewriter, here’s the phone. Do you need something to eat? Let me get you a towel. You’re dripping.”
“Thanks,” Daniel murmured, peeling off his coat and accepting the large, fluffy towel she handed to him. “If you have some coffee—”
“Of course.”
“What are you going to do?” Rodney asked, wringing the water out of his hair.
“I’m going to start making some phone calls. I might know a few people who can help.”
“What should I do?”
“Sit quietly until I need you.” Daniel settled on the chair beside the phone, pulling a battered address book out of his back pocket. The pages were stiff and wrinkled, and some of the ink had run, but the names and numbers were still decipherable. He dialed the first number on the opening page, and crossed his fingers.
* * * *
Daniel contacted his former commanding officer, Tom Boothe, who contacted his old college buddy, an up-and-coming hotshot in the District Attorney’s office, who was married to Judge Bragg’s daughter, who, in turn, was agreeable to cutting backroom deals if the price was right. Two days and two hundred and fifty dollars after Daniel found Carol in the basement cell of city jail, she was released into his care.
Sergeant Wilkes was no longer the pleasant, yet sympathetic, man Daniel had first met. It was clear he resented Daniel’s efforts, and resented even more the fact that he had to release a Commie sympathizer. He could go jump in the Bay for all Daniel cared, as long as Carol was safe and sound, and by his side.
“But there’s one catch to this,” Daniel explained as he escorted her down the steps to the street.
“What’s that?” she asked, holding up her hand to shield her eyes from the weak morning sun. In the unobstructed light, she looked tired and ill.
“You have to leave San Francisco.”
Carol pulled away from him, her eyes wide. “What are you talking about? I can’t stay here anymore? Is this some sort of trick to make me go home with you?”
Daniel tried to take her arm again, but she backed out of reach. “That was part of the bargain, Carol. I’m sorry, but you have a black mark by your name now. You’re not safe here. Not now.”
“No. They are not going to scare me and intimidate me away from my home.”
Daniel slowly approached her, careful to not startle her. He held her shoulders, his fingers caressing her in small circles. He didn’t speak until he could hold her gaze, forcing it to lock with his. “Carol, I know you don’t want to leave, and I’m sorry. But this is a big world. If you come with me, I can help you. This doesn’t have to ruin your life.”
“I’m not going back to Idaho.”
“Fine. We’ll go somewhere else.”
She bit her lip, her eyes swimming with telltale tears. She rested her head against his chest as if she hadn’t the energy to support its weight, burying her face in his shirt. He wrapped his arms around her, enjoying the weight and warmth of her body against his. He dreamed about holding her every single night. He dreamed about her deceptive body, seemingly fragile, but so strong. He dreamed about her small, soft mouth, her hot, searching fingers, her firm breasts, her perfectly shaped legs.
“I’m so sorry,” she whispered. “I really am. What I said to you. I wanted to apologize. Daniel, I never meant—”
“Shh, I know.” He stroked her hair, resting his chin on the top of her head. “Hey, I forgave you.”
“You’re not the coward. I’m the coward,” she said, her voice thick.
“No, you’re not. You are far, far from a coward. Come on, let’s get your stuff together.”
“Where are we going?”
“I haven’t decided yet. But…”
“But?” She hugged his arm as they began strolling down the road. He couldn’t stop looking at her, afraid if he looked elsewhere, she would slip away again.
“But before we leave, I need you to do something for me first.”
“Anything.”
“Call your father.”
“He doesn’t have a phone,” she answered breezily.
“He does now. I have his number. Carol, you haven’t been home in nearly four years. All he wants is to hear your voice. To make sure you’re okay. He loves you.”
She blushed, looking down. “I meant to write him, I did. I just never…I mean, I’ve been so busy. With everything.”
“I know,” he said mildly.
When they reached her apartment, Daniel silently handed her a scrap of paper with Bradford’s number scribbled in pencil.
“My neighbor has a phone,” she said. “I’ll call from there. You make yourself comfortable.”
“I’ll wait right here.”
The minutes slipped away, until the hand was half past the hour and Carol still didn’t return. Daniel shifted uncomfortably as he realized she could have run from him, intent on staying in the city even at the risk of her own life. The back of his thigh, where a dozen bits of shrapnel were embedded in his skin, ached from the pressure of the building storm. He really did hate the city by the Bay, and he couldn’t understand why Carol was so loathe to leave. Crowded, wet, smelly, and gray. He couldn’t wait to leave it all behind.
Carol returned after nearly an hour, looking ragged, tired, and unhappy. She collapsed on the couch beside him, wrapping her arms around him.
“I’ll go wherever you want,” she told him.
Daniel kissed the top of her head. “I love you.”
“Thank you for coming for me.”
“I always will.”
Chapter 4
Denver Colorado
1960
Carol adjusted Rebecca on her hip, trying to hold the toddler in one hand while she stirred dinner with the other. Night had settled early over the city, and the steady ticking of the grandfather clock in the hall increased her anxiety until her eyelid twitched. Rebecca touched everything she could reach with sticky, groping fingers.
“Stop that,” Carol snapped when Rebecca managed to open the cupboard above her head.
“Cookie,” Rebecca said, pointing with a wide, crooked smile. Two white teeth stuck out from her gums, reminding Carol of a beaver.
“No, no cookies.”
“Cookie!” Rebecca repeated, her voice rising.
“Rebecca, no cookies. It’s dinner time. Look.” She pointed to the simmering pot of pasta. “Dinner.”
“No dinner. Cookie.”
Carol sighed, reaching for the box of chocolate chip cookies. “One cookie.”
Rebecca stuffed the small treat in her mouth, gumming it until it was soggy enough to swallow, her lips and chin coated with crumbs and smeared chocolate.
“You’ve made such a mess,” Carol said, carrying her to the sink. She set Rebecca on the counter, wetting a wash cloth to wipe her face and hands.
“Cookie.”
“You’ve had your cookie,” Carol muttered. “That’s enough.”
Rebecca’s lower lip trembled, but her face cleared, like a cloud just passing over the sun. “Dadda! Dadda’s home!”
“No, Daddy won’t be home for another—” The unmistakable sound of the front door opening cut off her words. “Well, let’s go see him.”
“There’s my girls!” Daniel exclaimed as he stepped into the hallway.
Rebecca held out her arms, shouting, “Dadda! Dadda!”
Carol handed over her daughter, relieved that Daniel could take over for the evening. She loved Rebecca, but taking care of that child all day wore her down until she felt like she had nothing left, until she thought she didn’t even exist anymore. Carol Thorn was dead, replaced by an entity simply known as “Momma.”
“How was your day?” Carol asked, allowing Daniel to kiss her cheek.
“Busy, busy. How was yours?”
“The same.” Carol smiled to hide the bitter jealousy washing through her body. “We’re having spaghetti ton
ight.”
“Sounds great. Come on, Becky girl, let’s go wash up.”
Rebecca grabbed Daniel’s nose, laughing at the face he made. “Wash up.”
Carol stepped into the kitchen just as the water boiled over the side of the pot. She turned down the heat, but not before the hot water splashed the back of her hand. Sighing, she ran it under cold water until the sting faded, but the pain hadn’t bothered her. Everything felt gray.
While she waited for Daniel and Rebecca to wash, she set the table, laying out the same two plates in the same two positions, with the same two glasses besides the same two forks. The same two heat pads waited in the center of the table for the same bowl of pasta they ate three or four times a week.
“Momma, park!” Rebecca announced as Daniel carried her into the dining room.
“No,” Carol answered, without thinking, “we can’t go to the park now. We’re eating dinner.”
“I told her I’d take her to the park tomorrow,” Daniel said, “since I have the day off.”
“Oh.”
Daniel deposited Rebecca in her high chair, handing her a small cup of juice from the fridge. “Do you want to come with us?”
“I…no, I can’t.”
“Come on,” Daniel said, wrapping his arm around her waist, “it’ll be fun.” He kissed her neck. “We can have a picnic.”
“No, tomorrow is laundry day.”
“It can wait.”
“No, it can’t!” Carol snapped, pulling away from him. She regretted her sharp tone as soon as she saw surprised hurt in Daniel’s eyes. “I’m sorry, I really am. I want to go. It sounds like you guys will have a lot of fun, it’s just—”
“It’s just I never really get to see you anymore,” Daniel pointed out, sitting at the head of the table.
“Life’s just been a little hectic. Now that Rebecca is older, I spend so much time chasing her around the house.”
Daniel looked at their daughter with a proud smile. “She is a little handful, isn’t she? But maybe we need a break.”
Carol thought she needed more than a break. A few hours, a few days, even a few weeks wouldn’t be enough to make her feel whole. “What do you have in mind?”
“Jed is getting married next month. Maybe we could find a sitter and…”
Engaging Carol Page 5
