by Linda Ellen
“What happened then?” Steve asked gently.
Pvt. Sheldon wiped his face on his sleeve and gave a fatalistic shrug. “They gave us three weeks to get out. Pop rented a house in Jeffersonville – by then, there wasn’t anything to be had in Charlestown – from August to December the population went from 40 to 13,400 – people came from everywhere to work on the construction. We moved everything we could cram into the rental place. At first, they said they might not have to tear the house down; that they could maybe use it for office space. But…once everything started, they said it had to go…”
Steve gave a solemn nod, feeling his heart squeeze at the boy’s plight. He’d never thought about what the displaced people actually went through, and what it took to build the gargantuan facility.
“But…you said you joined up to keep an eye on things…”
Stoically, the young man inclined his head toward the center of the massive compound. “My Grandma had a stroke and died two days after we found out we’d have to move. She’s buried in the family cemetery, alongside an aunt, an uncle, and my oldest sister, who died at a month old. The graveyard is fenced in, and the government men swore all of the cemeteries in the area would be looked after and not bothered. That they’d work around them.” He looked Steve straight in the eye with rock solid determination. “Once we saw they’d tore down the house, I made up my mind I was gonna join up and request to be stationed here so’s I could keep an eye on my Grandma.”
A chill washed over Steve’s arms and legs that had nothing to do with the cool of the early September night’s temperature.
They had come to a large gate in the fence, the other side of which was continuous stands of blue spruce that provided privacy between them and the river. They could hear the engine of a tugboat on the water filtering through the stand of trees. He stopped the jeep and they got out to inspect the gate and make sure no one had been foolish enough to try and get through, or dig under it. Steve knew if anyone was stupid enough to touch the fence, which was clearly marked with signs that warned of the danger, they would get a good jolt – and an alarm would go off. However, one never knew what an enterprising enemy mind might think up in order to circumvent their defenses.
Climbing back into the jeep to continue on their rounds, Steve cleared his throat.
“I’m sorry, Sheldon. What happened to your family was lousy.”
Having calmed down after his emotional utterances, the young private looked over at Steve and actually grinned. Steve was almost taken aback.
“Aww, that’s ok. They can’t keep us Sheldons down. I got plans,” he stated. “Got me a girl, and after this war’s over, we’re gonna get us a piece of land somewhere and build a place even better than what my family lost. Just see if I don’t.”
“Good for you, son,” Steve murmured, thinking for a moment about his brother Gene’s adopted family’s farm in Elizabethtown and how they would feel if they were forced to sell. Lost in thought, he was surprised when Sheldon said, “D’you hear me?”
Steve glanced over. “I’m sorry, was wool-gathering. Whad’you say?”
“I asked if you’ve got a girl.”
Steve let out a soft snort. “Nah. I mean, I did, sort of…” he trailed off, thinking about Roxie Gardner, the brassy redhead he’d been sporting around town before the incident when lovely Vivian Powell, his brother’s fiancée, had literally bumped into him – and asked him to kiss her. He cringed at the memory of that day, and the expression on her face when she realized he wasn’t Gene. Oh, it was a terrible time then, but now they could all laugh about it. That day, after Viv had run out of the store in tears, he had broken things off with Roxie.
Then, another face flashed like a photograph on the backs of his eyelids and for some reason, his heart sped up a bit – a girl with creamy skin sparsely dusted with pale freckles, dark brown hair and blue eyes. She wasn’t exactly a beauty queen, but she wasn’t close to bad either. You could say she was pretty. She was witty and funny, too. Yes, in fact, it was her snappy personality that affected him the most. He chuckled softly, thinking about how star-crazy she had been that night at the Brown. At times, her impulsive actions or words rubbed him the wrong way, like dragging your fingernails through a dog’s fur backwards.
Mary June Harriman. Now, why did she cross his mind when asked if he had a girl? She wasn’t his girl. She was merely the best friend of his brother’s fiancée. He’d only seen her twice – meeting her the first time on that momentous night when his whole world had changed…and she’d been right by his side the whole evening…helping him cope. Then, she had been there with the rest as they had all watched as his brother Gene proposed to his girl. As he recalled, she had turned to him, her blue eyes twinkling, and had whispered, “She doesn’t even realize we’re all here! Oh, this is so exciting!”
Now, he wondered what Mary June might be doing…probably asleep like a normal person – not out driving a fence line in the middle of the night.
He’d have to ask his brother the next time they talked…just to be polite.
CHAPTER 2
Downtown Louisville
The next day
“Oh, look at this one, Viv!” Mary June Harriman gushed as she pointed to yet another lovely wedding dress in the Simplicity pattern book they were scouring at A. Baer’s Fabric Store.
Her best friend and soon-to-be-bride, Vivian Powell, gazed at it, teeth clamping her bottom lip. Mary June knew she was trying to picture herself in the dress. Finally, she gave a nod.
“I like it. What do you think, Mama?”
Vivian’s mother Mrs. Powell, who would be making the dress, leaned in and studied the simple flowing style. Shown in a glossy satin material, it had three sweeping panels in the front that went from shoulder to toe, narrowing at the waist. It had delicate puffed sleeves and a modest square neckline, each of which were cornered with dainty silk bows. It was simple and elegant, yet somehow…cute at the same time – much like Viv herself. “I think it’s perfect. It seems fairly straightforward to make. Shouldn’t take long,” her mother agreed. “Let’s see if they have enough of the right material.”
The girls exchanged identical looks of anticipation and excitement before giggling together.
“This is so much fun,” Mary June grinned, leaning to give her best friend a quick hug. “Now, you’ll need the material for the veil…and new shoes…and white gloves…and new under things…and—”
“Goodness, Mary June!” Viv laughed. “I don’t know if I’ll have enough money for all of that…”
Mrs. Powell smiled at her only child and patted her hand, tilting her head as if to emit a secret in a conspiratorial murmur, “Oh, I think your father will find the money for whatever his only daughter needs for her wedding. I happen to know he’s put some back over the years, kind of like a dowry, in anticipation of this event.”
“Oh Mama…” Vivian’s eyes filled at the thought of her tough, railroad-man father wishing to spoil his little girl on her wedding day. Viv clasped her mom in a warm embrace as the older woman chuckled happily.
Mary June watched her friend with her mom for a moment and then turned to a display of headbands decorated with pearls on which to attach a sheer veil. “Look at these – aren’t they pretty?”
Viv turned to see what her friend was referencing and squinched up her nose a bit. “Well, I don’t know if I want a veil…I was thinking of just wearing pearl combs in my hair.”
Shocked, Mary June immediately disagreed. “Not wear a veil? Why ever not? All brides wear veils, Viv!”
Mrs. Powell was heading for the white material section on the second floor of the massive three-story building and commented back over her shoulder. “Some do, and some don’t. I wore one, but my sister didn’t. It’s all a matter of personal likes and dislikes. She said she didn’t want anything mashing down her hair. But I didn’t care about that – to me, being shy, having a veil on helped me to hide my face as I walked down the aisle to—” her voice t
railed away as she had gotten too far ahead for the girls to hear.
Vivian’s honey brown eyes sparkled teasingly as she looked over at her best friend, seeming to admire her dark hair pulled back in the Victory Roll style that she had been favoring lately, as if she were trying to picture a veil on top of her coiffure. Mary June knew that the concern on her face was probably making her pale brown freckles stand out more. Feeling suddenly self-conscious, she began to turn away, but Viv laughed and reached out to grasp her hand and tug her forward to follow after Mrs. Powell.
“So I guess this means that you will be wearing a veil at your wedding, huh?”
Mary June let out an unladylike snort. “What wedding? Last time I looked, I haven’t even got a beau – or do you know something I don’t?” she playfully snapped as she trudged along, assenting to being towed behind the bride.
In truth, if she would have allowed herself, she could have been downright jealous of Viv. After all, the girl had everything – doting parents, beauty, a dreamboat of a fiancé who was over-the-moon about her, and now a wedding to plan where apparently she could have just about anything she wanted. But Mary June couldn’t begrudge her best friend her blessings. She truly was happy for her and thrilled that she had found Gene after suffering for six miserable months over what Walter, her ex-boyfriend, had done.
But…what about ME, Lord? Mary June moaned silently. When will it be MY turn? Seems like the only men who ask me out for dates are drips, chuckleheads, and eager beavers with roaming hands. Seems like all the killer-dillers are already sappy over somebody else…
“Pilot to navigator – where the heck are you, MaJu?” Viv teased, using her nickname for her friend, and effectively jerking Mary June back into their conversation as they ascended the stairs behind her mom-on-a-mission.
Mary June chuckled and squeezed her friend’s hand, catching up to the same step as Viv. “Sorry, slipped off the boat for a second I guess.”
Vivian turned and searched Mary June’s profile as they topped the steps. Knowing one another so well, Viv sensed what her friend was thinking and feeling.
“Has Steve called you yet?” she casually asked.
Mary June turned big blue startled eyes toward her friend. “Steve? As in Steve Wheeler, your fiancé’s brother? Why in the world would he call me?” she queried, although the image of Steve’s sky-blue eyes and gorgeous face, so much like Gene’s, and yet somehow…different, plastered itself in her mind’s eye. She had thought about him so often, but she hadn’t said a word to her friend. After the life-changing evening they’d all spent together a few weeks before, she had kind of, sort of, hoped that he would call…but he hadn’t. He probably thinks I’m a knucklehead, flapping my lips about wanting to see Hollywood stars at the Brown, she silently groused, shaking her head at the memory.
“Oh, I don’t know…” Viv shrugged nonchalantly. “You two seemed to hit it off that night in Mr. Tucker’s room at the hotel…”
“He was just in shock, that’s all. I’m sure he thought I was a numbskull, going on so much about Elizabeth Taylor and Victor Mature,” Mary June immediately countered, although an image of Steve meeting her eyes with that dimpled grin that lit up his face while Gene was proposing to Viv came into her mind. She wondered if he even realized he had grasped her hand while they were all huddled together waiting. She sighed in self-deprecation. Probably not.
“I could have Gene ask him…” Viv offered, her eyes widening when Mary June whirled toward her and screeched, “Don’t you DARE! I’d DIE if he thought I was pining after him or something!”
Viv cleared her throat and gave a nod, but couldn’t resist one tiny poke. “Are you pining after him?”
Mary June sniffed and stuck her nose up in the air, declaring, “Of course not,” before tossing her head and making a show of dropping Viv’s hand as she flounced away. She hurried after Mrs. Powell, sliding up beside her as the older woman stood perusing a rack with bolts of various shades of white satin.
Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Viv’s knowing smile light up her face as she moved toward the pair.
“Hey everyone,” Mary June called as she walked in the door of her home an hour later – the home she shared with her mother, father, and older brother. She listened, but no response came from within, only the telltale noise of pots and pans. Hanging her sweater, hat, and purse on the rack by the door, she wandered toward the back of the small house to get to the kitchen.
Her mother stood stirring soup on the stove. “Hi Mom,” Mary June greeted. “Sorry I’m a bit late. We got caught up looking at material for Viv’s wedding dress…” she paused, staring at her mother’s back.
By way of acknowledgement, her mother said, “Good, you’re home. I don’t know where your brother is, but go ahead and set the table for supper. Your father should be home soon. I swear, none of you care that I’ve been slaving over a hot stove all day, cleaning house, washing clothes, mopping the floor – and all you three do is track in dirt and show up late for supper,” she fumed.
Mary June turned to the cupboard to take out the soup bowls, and rolled her eyes at her mother’s complaints. She knew it would do no good to point out that she herself did the laundry on Saturdays and that her brother did his share of chores. Her father worked a difficult job as a machinist in one of the defense factories, but he still came home and took care of the yard and any maintenance around the house. It was just that her mother was a perpetually unhappy person who always seemed to need something to gripe about or she didn’t feel normal.
The girl figured that her brother was probably at a friend’s or maybe a nearby bowling alley, and her father more than likely down at his favorite pool hall, hanging out for a friendly game with other males who were there for their own reasons. It was better than staying around the house, that’s for sure. She just hoped that one of them would come home in time to run her into town for the USO’s regular Saturday night dance. Thinking of that, she silently fretted, I need to get a move on and change into a dancing dress!
Finishing the table setting in a hurry, she asked if there was anything else that needed doing, and then rushed to her room to shinny out of her jeans and plaid shirt and into one of her dresses.
Standing at her closet and staring at her choices, she made a snap decision. This time she would wear her new purchase, a short-sleeved swing dress with lovely blue and black flowers on a white background. What made it different was the bust area was fashioned of a soft solid royal blue material crisscrossed over the front, accentuating her bosom, and tucked into the top of the high waist. It was a bit daring, but not overmuch. Matching it with her faithful black pumps over one of her only two pair of stockings, she added a set of sparkling earrings, and her favorite silver locket that nestled beautifully in the neckline of the dress. Giving a quick twirl in front of the dresser mirror, she was pleased with how the dress flared and sashayed around her legs. This should knock a few soldiers’ socks off – hopefully.
Checking to make sure her Victory Rolls were still secure, she decided to add one more accessory – her sterling silver charm bracelet, for which she had been collecting baubles for years. They included a little drum with a garnet, her birthstone, inside, a tiny airplane, a cute little bird inside a nest, a miniature fan, and many more. Satisfied with the results and feeling confident, she finished hooking the clasp as she made her way back to the eat-in kitchen.
Her mother was seated at the table, dipping a piece of buttered bread into a bowl of soup. She glanced up as Mary June walked into the room, gave her daughter the once-over, and scowled. “That’s your new dress, ain’t it? I think it’s a bit too suggestive to wear to the USO. That Miss Warren will call you a hussy and make you leave the dance if you wear that,” she declared.
Mary June looked down at her lovely dress and back up at her mother, sitting in a dingy housecoat, no makeup, no jewelry except her wedding ring, and with her once-vibrant auburn hair hanging limp and unattractive. The girl wondered, and n
ot for the first time, why her mother never fixed herself up to give her husband something pretty to look at when he came home. However, the girl bit her tongue and avoided saying that, as she’d done so in the past and it had resulted in a big row.
Now, she just shrugged and answered with a bright tone, “I’ll take my chances.”
“Suit yourself,” her mother grumbled, returning to her dinner.
Mary June picked up her spoon and began to eat her own soup, glancing at the clock on the wall next to the stove and silently hoping either her father or her brother would come home in time.
Twenty minutes later, having finished a silent supper and beginning to wash the dishes, Mary June heard the front door open. Grabbing a dishtowel and quickly drying her hands before hurrying to the kitchen doorway, she greeted, “Oh Papa, I’m so glad you’re home. Would you run me up to the USO before you eat? It’s soup and it’ll keep warm on the stove…that is, unless you’re too hungry…”
Robert Harriman was a big man, his dark hair graying at the temples and his hands showed the ground-in grease of working with machines all day. He smiled at her and gave her a nod. “I can wait. Sure, I’ll run you up there. You ready?” He paused a moment and added as he surveyed her appearance, “That’s some dress.”
“You like?” she play-flirted, demonstrating a dance twirl for him.
“I like,” he nodded with fatherly pride.
She giggled and ran the few steps over to him to give him a quick kiss on the cheek, feeling a bit like the little girl she used to be, delighting in her father paying her attention. “Let me just brush my teeth real quick.”
She did so, and ducked into her room to spritz on some of her favorite perfume before hurrying back into the living room. “I’m ready,” she announced, scurrying to the rack by the door to gather her sweater and purse. He was right behind her and held the door for her to exit first. Vaguely, she realized she hadn’t heard him say anything else since he’d walked in the door.
