Tears welled in Amelia’s eyes. Susan put her arms around Amelia’s shoulders and pulled her close. “You’re going to be fine,” she said. “Everything is going to be all right.” She held her there for a few minutes and made eye contact with Ruth. Then she wiped the tears from Amelia’s cheeks. “Will you do something for me?” Amelia lifted her head. “Will you go down and see if they’ve pulled the car around yet?”
Amelia nodded and rose from the bed.
As soon as she had left the room, Ruth asked, “Do you believe that, knowing what she has to return home to?”
It was more than tiredness or Susan’s own personal anguish that Ruth saw in her eyes. And there was no need for Susan to put it into words.
“What are we going to do?” Ruth continued.
“We have just over five months to figure something out, and I’m going to be three states away trying to put my life back together. And soon you’re going to be . . . where are you going to be?”
“I’m not going back home.” For the first time the words sounded sure, confident. Ruth said them without hesitation. “Nurse Lillian’s mother-in-law lives in Ypsilanti, not far from here, and she has a friend who will let me rent her extra bedroom. There are lots of jobs for women right now, I’ll find something.”
Susan retrieved a small pad of paper and a pencil from her purse. “Here,” she said, “this is my address. Write me as soon as you are out of here.”
Ruth took the slip of paper and nodded. “I’ll get Amelia’s address and make sure she has ours before I leave. She’s going to be so scared.”
“You said you would talk to Nurse Lillian. Are you going to tell her Amelia’s secret?”
“I want Amelia to tell her. She has to have someone to trust after I leave.”
“If she doesn’t tell her,” Susan said, “you have to, Ruth.”
“I know,” she replied. “I won’t leave her to do this alone.”
Susan rose from the edge of the bed, no sign of the bright smile that had first greeted Ruth, and hugged her tightly. “I hate to leave you alone, too,” she said softly.
Ruth squeezed her arms around her friend and hugged her silently for a long moment. Alone was something she had felt for a very long time. Susan had been a temporary reprieve, but Ruth knew to expect no more than that. She knew that temporary might always be the best she could expect, even for friendship.
“I’m going to miss you,” Ruth said, relinquishing their hug to meet Susan’s eyes. They were liquid with tears, like her own.
“We’ll stay in touch,” Susan said and wiped her tears with the back of her hand. “Don’t forget to write as soon as you can.”
“I won’t. And thank you for being such a good friend when I needed one most.”
“Hey, we Able Gables have to watch out for each other.” Susan finally offered a smile. “If only you could keep me company on the ride to the train.” She picked up her suitcase and turned toward the door. “I’m off to endure my last twenty minutes of demeaning insults from Mrs. Stranton.” She took a deep breath and straightened her shoulders. “Here I go.”
Ruth returned the smile. “I envy you.”
Chapter 10
What the men carry, what the men eat, the ships they sail in, that all comes from the unanimity of our war effort, down to the average citizen. And I believe that it is due to the magnificent effort in all our countries, but one which must be kept up very clearly and definitely to the high pitch that it has now arrived at. We cannot afford in any way to assume that military and naval, or air men can win this war alone. They need the backing of the people back home . . .
Franklin D. Roosevelt, August 1943
Despite heavy U.S. aircraft losses over Kiel, Allied forces continued to bomb Sicily and the Italian mainland in anticipation of an invasion, and America continued its “island hopping” strategy in the Southwest Pacific.
More bombers were needed, and the plant providing them faster than any in the country was Willow Run. Sorensen’s ingenious adaptation of Ford’s assembly line had silenced the critics. It wasn’t just Star Man Mac demanding the increased production from the crews, it was the expectations of FDR himself. To a person, there wasn’t one willing to disappoint the President. And most of them, like Audrey, took the challenge personally.
No one could miss it. The banner, stretching half the length of a wing, was hung above a midwing station and proudly displayed the crew’s top daily number. The intent was clear, their goal each day was to beat that number. The gauntlet had been thrown down.
The challenge was accepted. Mac’s insistent shouts over the whine of the machines were even less relevant than usual. Even June’s less than competitive nature couldn’t avoid the bump of adrenaline as she passed by the banner. Her question as she emerged from the tool room was all any of them needed to hear. “What was our best number?” Their mission was set. The day saw the beginning of a drive that suffered the heat and exhaustion, the aches and pain, and ignored distraction for one common goal. The race was on with no finish line in sight.
“Break!” Mac bellowed over Jack’s shoulder. “Now.”
Jack straightened, checked his watch, and repeated the call to the rest of the crew. “Break time.”
Mac cocked his head and took a step toward Jack. “Salt and water, dammit. Ain’t nobody droppin’ dead on my shift.”
Jack turned away abruptly and motioned the crew away from the station.
They collected the required salt and water and gathered at the break table. Audrey took a gulp of water and tried to swallow the salt tablet on the first try. She shuddered as the rough tablet stuck to the back of her throat, then squeezed her eyes shut and took another gulp.
“Ach, I hate these things,” she said, and downed the rest of the water without a breath.
“I know,” Jack said, “but believe me, you don’t want your guts tied into a knot so tight you’re huggin’ your knees to try to stop the pain.”
She wasn’t questioning the reasons or doubting the consequences. August in Michigan only amplified the heat and humidity within the plant, and sweat-soaked, heavy blue coveralls and sweat dripping from nose and chin testified to the need. But it didn’t make swallowing salt tablets twice a day any more enjoyable.
“Any reason we have to take the full ten-minute break?” Audrey asked.
Jack followed her gaze in the direction of the banner. “Can’t think of a one,” he replied. “Anyone else need a full break?”
No one hesitated. The crew moved immediately to return to their station.
At the end of the day the all-important number, the sweat-proved evidence of their collective effort, hung in the air on Jack’s shout. “Seven.”
Audrey, relieved and exhausted, tipped her head back and shouted, “We did it!”
And Bennie’s rare response, “D-d-damn.”
“Seven full pieces,” added June. “A half-piece better than our best.”
They returned their tools and aprons to the tool room, and Audrey wiped the sweat from her face and neck with her headscarf. “I feel like we should celebrate,” she said, “do something to reward ourselves. But I don’t even have the energy to take a shower.”
“We’d all better try to get some food down and get a good night’s sleep,” Jack said. “We put out seven today and Mac’s gonna expect no less than that tomorrow.”
“We can do it again,” Nona added. “We’re the best crew on the line.”
Their moments of exhilaration settled quickly into the tired space that followed a normal work day. June left to go home to her boys and dinner, waiting. Bennie would stop at his sister’s and deliver bomber pictures to his nephew and eat birthday cake. And Jack needed to pick up Lucy and make it to dinner with his in-laws.
Jack started for the exit, steps quicker than his usual stride, then stopped and came back a few. “Oh,” he said, “I can drop you off at your place first, Audrey.”
“Do you still want to see my new place?” Nona as
ked. “Or are you too tired?”
“I’m exhausted and hungry and absolutely want to see your place,” Audrey replied. “You go ahead, Jack, family’s waiting.” She watched as he nodded and started off again, and then called after him, “I wish there was some way that Lucy could hurry things along. The suspense is gonna kill me.”
“A Christmas baby, that’s what she’s thinkin’.”
Nona offered a bright smile. “Come on,” she said, “the bus will take us to Michigan Avenue and we can walk from there.”
It wasn’t a pleasant experience, the ride to town. Not because a very large man with body odor that could permeate steel pressed her against the rail frame of the bus. Or the man behind her with the rattling cough that moved the hair at the back of her head. It was because what was left of her fragile naivety dissolved with Nona in the back of the bus.
She had kept moving down the aisle after Audrey claimed a seat near the front, passing more empty seats on her way to the rear. She hadn’t said anything, hadn’t warned Audrey that reality could be so unpleasant. The moment that the difference for them had become painfully real was when Audrey turned to see the last of the passengers walk to the rear where Nona and two other Negroes stood to give up their seats. There was no asking, no infirming need—only expectation and compliance. Audrey watched her friend balance herself in the middle of the aisle, eyes straight ahead, only a tentative hand on the edge of the seatback as the bus rolled toward town.
Audrey couldn’t stand to look any longer, couldn’t absorb what she saw, couldn’t accept the acceptance. Worse, she could not stomach that she was part of it. She rode the rest of the way with her forehead against the window.
Michigan Avenue was lined with industry and businesses, and was home to the plant personnel’s favorite restaurant, The Bomber. Enticing smells escaping from the vents of the building as they walked past brought back the hunger pains that the bus ride had stifled.
“I know you’re hungry,” Nona began, “and I think I can finally handle some food. Those salt tablets really destroy the appetite, don’t they?”
Audrey stopped and took Nona’s arm. “Come on, then, we’ll eat at The Bomber.” It might have been the hesitation, or the expression on Nona’s face that Audrey had no name for, but she knew before Nona told her.
“Audrey, I can’t go in there,” she replied. “Look, there’s a grocery by my neighborhood. I don’t know what Mrs. Bailey has on hand, so we’ll stop and get something to fix.”
Of course it was the thing to do, the only thing to do. Another lift in the fog, a painful reveal. Audrey nodded.
They stopped at the grocery where Audrey ignored the stares of Negoes wondering why she was in their store, and continued on to a wood-clad two-story house in the middle of a residential block.
“I’m so lucky,” Nona said, leading Audrey to the side of the house. She used a key and let them in. “Mrs. Bailey’s daughter was married last month and renting out her room helps her pay the bills. Mr. Bailey passed two years ago, keeled over of a heart attack shoveling snow from the walk.”
The kitchen was small, white metal canisters of staples taking up much of the counter space. Nona placed the groceries next to the sink and motioned for Audrey to sit at the tiny table, barely large enough for two plates.
“Mrs. Bailey’s at a prayer meeting tonight.” Nona began washing and slicing and putting together a garden salad. “I’m actually getting an appetite back,” she said, retrieving a frying pan from under the counter and preparing it for sliced potatoes and ham.
The distraction allowed Audrey time to weigh her discomfort, and to question her suspicion of Nona’s timing. Was it merely a coincidence that Nona’s landlady was away this evening? Was she right to personalize it, to think that she had jumped into Nona’s shoes? And if she was right, maybe she needed to redefine the bounds of friendship, but she wondered if she had the right to ask.
Amid small talk and relishing the taste of dinner, Audrey let the questions form. No rush to ask them, or to answer them. No rush to trade away the easiness and Nona’s excitement in showing off her room.
The floorboards groaned as they entered the little upstairs bedroom. Nona smiled and flopped onto the iron-rail bed. “Welcome to my palace,” she said.
Audrey looked around the room with its wooden blanket chest at the foot of the bed and tall bureau sitting between two narrow windows and replied, “Perfect. It is, Nona. It’s perfect.”
“And clean and dry,” she said and laid back on the bed. “And so comfy. No more sleeping on the basement floor.”
“And your own space,” Audrey said and smiled. “I know how good that feels.”
“Yes.” Nona sat up and motioned for Audrey to sit on the bed. “A place where I can be alone with myself. I can listen to whatever radio programs I want, or read at night, or,” she raised her eyebrows and grinned, “or traipse around here all evening without undergarments.”
Audrey’s eyes twinkled with amusement. “I talk back to the radio. I say things that would turn proper heads. It feels really good.”
“Then I’ll do it, too,” Nona replied. “Oh, there are so many things I’ve wanted to say. I want to talk back to ol’ Alan Kent and ask him how his Camay Soap Diet’s going to help me get a degree. I want to talk back to Mayor Jeffries.” Nona sighed and relaxed her shoulders. “I just want to talk back.”
“Yes. And where else? Have you ever even talked back to your parents?”
“Only once,” Nona said. “But doing my siblings’ chores on top of my own made me think twice the next time I felt the urge.”
“I ate soap.”
Nona burst into laughter, and Audrey joined her. “How many times?” Nona finally managed.
“Once for back talk, once for a word unbecoming.” She watched Nona stifle another laugh. “I suppose I should have been grateful. My cousins got the switch—more than a few times.”
“Well, you can tell me anything you want,” Nona said, “unbecoming or not, and I promise there will be no soap in sight.”
Audrey allowed her smile to soften. Her eyes stayed with Nona’s. “But it’s not the same for you, is it?”
Nona hesitated a moment before saying, “I don’t understand.”
“I think there are things you won’t say to me because I’m white.” When Nona didn’t respond, Audrey continued. “Because I won’t understand, or because you don’t trust me?”
Nona shook her head. “No. I trust you, but there are things that I can’t expect you to understand.”
“Like waiting for today when your landlady is away to show me your room. I saw the stares at the grocery, and realized that you hurried us out of there. You won’t have to find a polite way to explain that you can do little to change the discomfort that I feel being in your neighborhood, visiting your world. I understand that much, and that it is only a small part of what you deal with. But there are things that I endure that you may not be able to fully understand, too. Do we have a friendship that can survive those differences?”
“I’m willing to find out if you are.”
Audrey nodded. “It has been a long time since I have had a friend that I can talk to.”
“Then you talk and I’ll listen.”
It was the right decision. It had to be. She’d picked the perfect person. It needed to be a woman like Nona, someone sure of her own needs, confident. Knowing exactly what she wanted for her life and going after it. And there was no hiding her struggle, the challenges to her goals were right out there for everyone to recognize. It was time to trust at least this one woman with a struggle of her own that had been hidden for so long.
“Do you remember when I told you that I hide behind my options?” Nona nodded, and Audrey continued. “What I struggle with isn’t obvious. I can keep it private and no one needs to know. And I lie to do that. I lie because I don’t have the courage to face things that you face—or maybe worse.”
The smooth skin of Nona’s brow pinched into
dark lines of concern, but she said nothing.
Audrey hesitated. She had never said it out loud, and for a moment it felt as though someone else was about to give up her secret. It didn’t sound like her voice, it was surprisingly more determined, more sure. “Have you ever been in love?” her new voice asked.
Nona’s concern seemed to ease some. “No,” she replied, “not yet. There was one boy at school, though, as handsome as a girl could want. He ran track. I loved a lot about him, how hard he worked and his polite manners.” She offered a little smile and added, “I loved kissing him and how he made me feel. But, eventually I realized how easy it was to leave my books behind and give him all of my attention. It started to feel like I was giving up me to be with him. I wasn’t ready to do that. I’m still not.”
“I never thought about it that way,” Audrey replied. “I don’t know that I could have. I just fell in love and nothing mattered except being together and keeping the secret.” It was out there now, the need for explanation. There was no avoiding it now, only a moment to gather the words, and wait for the inevitable question.
It took Nona longer than expected, maybe out of respect or just courtesy for something clearly difficult to talk about. Audrey overcame the urge to pull her eyes away, to avoid as she had done all of her life.
Nona spoke with a softness in her voice and in her eyes. “Are you afraid that when I know the secret that it will make me dislike you?”
“I am afraid of that, and it might. But it isn’t fair to expect an honest friendship from you and not offer you the same.”
“So, just tell me,” Nona said, “and don’t worry because, unless you’re a murderer, I won’t run.”
“A murderer, huh?” Audrey replied without an accompanying smile. “That could be a matter of interpretation.” She waited a few seconds for a reaction, but Nona remained unmoved. “Because of me, of my love, someone’s life will never be the same. All I knew was that I loved her, more than I ever imagined I could love.” The tears came without warning, welling quickly and spilling down Audrey’s cheeks. “That love . . . my love, destroyed her.”
The Liberators of Willow Run Page 7
