The Liberators of Willow Run

by Marianne K. Martin

  “Is this why you broke it off with me? How could you not be honest with me about something so important? How could you give our baby away? All I wanted was a life and a family with you.” All those feelings, all that pain was exactly what Ruth had hoped to spare him. And she would have done just that if not for her mother. She could think of no greater disrespect for her wishes, no bigger denial of her right to decide what was right for her life than this betrayal.

  For so much of her life she had tried to understand her mother. At first, when Ruth was so young, it was to try to fit what was natural to what her mother taught should be. Shouldn’t she question and challenge? It seemed the natural way to learn. Did it come down to what could be versus what should be? How else did you find what was possible? But she had always seemed to question what she should have accepted and to challenge what was set in stone. And when she was older, she couldn’t understand why her mother never allowed herself even a step outside the boundaries; she didn’t seem happy in her expected role. What was most difficult to understand, though, was why she wouldn’t want her daughter to take the steps that she herself could not. Why wouldn’t her mother want her to find the happiness that was missing in her own life?

  Ruth had tried, really tried, but now, after this, even understanding wouldn’t be enough. There was very little respect, and certainly no trust, left. Her mother could judge and try to create guilt, she could plead, but she would never again be able to affect Ruth’s life. That she would guarantee.

  Chapter 16

  April 1944

  It took weeks for what had happened to be apparent. It had occurred so naturally. The spaces in Audrey’s life, vacancies once filled with family and friends and lovers, were occupied now by Ruth. She had walked in and filled them up so naturally that Audrey had taken this long to realize.

  They talked of work and fellow workers, of war and worry, and books they’d read. They went to movies, shopped together, and treated themselves to the occasional evening of loaded ice cream. What they did not do was talk of their past, or their futures, or who they really were. And that hadn’t escaped the observation of Audrey’s best friend.

  “Mm, mm, mm,” Mrs. Bailey muttered when it was clear that she was bankrupt and that once again Nona had won their Friday night game of Monopoly. She shook her head, looked over her glasses at Audrey and said, “When you gonna finally beat this girl? I’m runnin’ quite a dry spell myself.”

  “I gave it my best,” Audrey replied.

  Mrs. Bailey pushed her chair back from the dining table and groaned as she rose slowly from her seat. “All right, I’ll leave you to deal with the ruler of the world here,” she said, placing a kiss on Nona’s head and heading for her bedroom.

  “Good night, Mrs. Bailey,” Audrey said, “sleep well.” She gathered the paper money and stacked it neatly in the game box as Nona collected the game pieces.

  “I don’t know what it was that made Mrs. Bailey like me,” Audrey said, “but I’m very glad she does.”

  “You charmed her,” Nona said and smiled.

  “Well, not consciously.”

  Nona folded the board and closed up the box. “See? Just being you can work. I don’t think you’ve told her one lie about yourself.”

  “I guess because it hasn’t been necessary yet.”

  “And Ruth?” Nona asked. “Have you lied to her?”

  The space between Audrey’s brows pinched into a tight crease. “Just because I’m clobbered by your accent doesn’t make it okay for you to say anything you want, you know.”

  The corners of Nona’s mouth curled slightly. “I can say anything because you trusted me with who you are. That’s what makes it okay. Are you going to trust Ruth the same way?”

  Audrey slumped back in her chair. “You’re safe, Nona.”

  “Safe.” Nona leaned forward and forced eye contact. Her voice was discreetly low. “Because I will always keep your secret.”

  “And because,” her tone matching Nona’s, “I don’t have to worry that you will have feelings for me that would destroy you. I know how strong your convictions are. You know exactly who you are and what you want for your life.”

  “You worry that Ruth doesn’t?”

  “I don’t know if she does or not. Sometimes I don’t even know what I want for my life.”

  “So it’s possible that you are worrying for no reason. Ruth may know what she wants, and she may just want a casual friend, someone to do things with. Why do you think it could be more than that?”

  “Because she’s not telling me anything, that’s how I know.” She acknowledged a questioning look from Nona. “Nothing about her life before she came here—nothing about the people in her life, friends or family. The same thing I’m doing.”

  “You could be wrong. She could be unwilling to share that part of her life for a lot of reasons.”

  Audrey nodded. “I know that’s the logical way to look at it. But there are things that you feel, things that aren’t explained logically.”

  “Do you think you can explain it to the non-logical part of my brain?”

  Audrey leaned forward, resting her forearms on the table. “The signals,” she began. “The same unspoken signals that I’m sure you must have felt when you knew someone was interested in you—and maybe you found yourself returning the interest. You catch them watching you, too often, too long. And when you catch their eyes you hold them longer than you should.”

  “You find excuses, not reasons, to be wherever they are,” Nona added.

  “And you let the physical space dissolve. You let them lean close, you welcome it, look forward to it. And they know it.”

  Nona nodded. “So Ruth’s doing that?”

  “And I’m doing that,” Audrey said. “But I need to stop. I need to let it settle into a friendship, just a friend who I can go places with and do things that you and I can’t do together. That’s all it can be.”

  “What will you do if she wants it to go beyond that? You recognize the signals, she must have recognized the same thing from you.” Nona waited for a response but there was none. “What then, Audrey?”

  “I’ll deny it. I’ll lie. I’ve become quite good at it.”

  “Is that what you are going to do the rest of your life, deny something that might make you happy? What are you going to do, live alone? Marry a man? My father would say that you are whistling past the graveyard.”

  “I’m not like you, Nona. I don’t have a plan. I don’t know what my life will be like. All I know is that I need to hang on to the few things I do know. For now, that’s all I can do.”

  “So what do you know?”

  “That I’m lucky to have a friend like you—one person in my life who knows who I am, one person I don’t have to lie to. There are times when I doubt my own ability to be able to tell the lies from the truth.”

  “The lies you tell to keep your secret safe?”

  “No, it’s not the lies that I tell others. It’s the ones I tell myself. Is it possible that I can be a good person, that I can trust my own decisions, and still lie to the rest of the world?”

  “What makes someone good?” Nona asked. “Caring about other people, making sacrifices for others or for your country? Isn’t that what you were doing when you spoke up for me when I was late for work, and when you honor the rationing and restrictions without complaining? You measure goodness by what is in your heart.”

  Who measured that goodness? Had others judged her as Nona had, seen some measure of goodness in her but never said it? It wouldn’t be so unexpected since no one else knew her secret. But Nona did, and still she offered a measure Audrey dared not offer herself. She couldn’t own it, no matter how much Nona thought she should. “I don’t see how that can ever be enough to pay for destroying someone’s life. There is nothing I could do now that could pay that debt.” She shook her head, a personal emphasis. “Good people forgive, and I can’t forgive me.”

  “You never explained what happened, only
that you feel responsible for it.”

  “I’ve never put it into words, not even to myself. I can’t, Nona, not yet.”

  “It’s all right, you don’t have to,” Nona replied. “But when you do want to talk about it, I’m here to listen. Whatever it is, though, I’ll probably still think you judge yourself too harshly.”

  “No,” Audrey insisted, “it was selfish. I wanted her to love me. I allowed it.”

  “Do you really allow someone to love you? How do you control someone else’s feelings? I don’t believe you can, Audrey.”

  “But if I had walked away, if I had told her it was wrong for us.”

  “Did you think it was?”

  Audrey lowered her eyes. “What I thought lost out to what I felt. Society says that it’s wrong.” She looked again into Nona’s eyes. “And the Bible says it’s wrong.”

  “Well, a lot of people believe that the Bible condones slavery, too. It’s been used to justify owning slaves here and in Europe. But does that make it right? Audrey, faith is a personal thing. We each need to come to our own understanding of it,” Nona said. “For me, I trusted my own reading and the teaching of my pastor, and I believe that Jesus brought a new covenant in the New Testament. The new covenant was love, and new replaces old. I don’t see how I can go wrong following that covenant.”

  “I guess I need to read it for myself, then. Maybe God can forgive me even if I can’t.” Audrey kept her eyes on Nona’s. “But even if there is forgiveness, I know I can never let what happened, happen again. I know the danger now, I know it’s real, and I can never forget it.”

  Chapter 17

  The letters were as regular as the sunrise, arriving every Monday and keeping Ruth as much a part of Amelia’s life as distance and rules would allow.

  Ruth retrieved this week’s letter from the lace runner on Mrs. Welly’s dining table and headed upstairs to her room. With her landlady away visiting, the evening was her own and Ruth welcomed the solitude.

  She quickly shed her uniform and the discomfort of her girdle and hose. With a long sigh she stretched back onto the bed and stared blankly at the ceiling. Lately there was nothing that felt this good. The ache in her legs and lower back soon eased, and Ruth reached blindly for the letter on the bedside stand. She slipped her fingertip under the edge of the flap, slid it open, and lifted the folded notebook pages.

  Dear Ruth,

  I will never know how to thank you for your friendship. Wherever we end up in our lives I want you to know that I never would have been able to get through this without you.

  Nurse Lillian thinks that I will deliver in just over four weeks from today. She said she will be right beside me just as you said. I have kept your letters hidden in the lining of my suitcase and take them out to read at night when I am most afraid. Your words give me strength because I know you believe me.

  I am not afraid of the pain now, I believe you and Nurse Lillian. But what will happen to my heart? I feel this baby’s every move, when it stretches and pushes. I know when it’s awake and sing my favorite songs for it to sleep at night. Will I know if it’s a boy or a girl, or what color its hair is or its eyes? What will I do with the emptiness it will leave behind?

  But what I am most afraid of is going home. My father warned me that I had better learn this lesson and become the good girl that he can be proud of. What if it’s not possible? I would rather stay here. I’m getting used to Mrs. Stranton. She thinks if everyone follows the rules, here and when we all go home, that we will have happy lives.

  I know she blames us girls for making mistakes, but Nurse Lillian says that it’s her way of saying that girls do have control over what their lives will be like. I wish she knew what happened to me, but I don’t think she would believe me either. If I could just stay here and let her think that I need more lessons and that I really want to know how to make my life better. She knows that I work hard at my duties, and I could help more if I could stay. I do feel safe here. Maybe if Nurse Lillian could talk to her.

  I hope you are happy where you are. I wish I could be like you and make my own money and decide where I want to live. I miss you terribly. I am waiting for your next letter, and trying to be strong.

  Your friend,

  Amelia

  It wasn’t as though she hadn’t thought about the day Amelia would have to go home. The thought, the worry of it, had invaded Ruth’s days more and more as the weeks went by. And the last letter from Susan was no help. The timing of her marriage and honeymoon made it strikingly clear that the responsibility for Amelia was now solely Ruth’s. Whatever plan she’d hoped the two of them would come up with to help Amelia was gone. So what now? Support her, advise her from a distance. She was so young, and frightened and alone. She’d get through the delivery, she’d face the doubts, and the guilt, and even the emptiness of giving up her baby. Ruth could share that much with her, and cry the tears they would both shed. But she couldn’t protect her. And the anxiety that was coursing through Ruth right now drove its message home—there was no one to protect her.

  A surge of panic brought Ruth upright. Perspiration covered her body. She grabbed quick breaths as her thoughts scrambled for a way. There had to be something she could do. She rose from the bed, paced barefoot across the cool wooden floor. Across to the window and back. On her third trip to the window, Ruth stopped. She stared blankly at the familiar patch of yard, and then she knew.

  Quickly she dressed, grabbed the letter and her house key, and hurried down the stairs.

  There were a number of ways to describe nights like this—relaxing, rejuvenating, essential. They were all of that for Audrey. They gave her time away from the rest of her life. Alone time, selfish time. Much needed time. Especially tonight.

  She had already moved her bed to the other side of the room, against the wall of her night-shift neighbor and away from the grizzly snore of the neighbor on day shift. She had stripped and showered, donned a thin cotton nightgown, and nestled into the corner of her bed to listen to the radio. A reporter would tell her how they were winning the battles and calm her worries, and Fibber would make her laugh by lying to Molly. She would rest and sleep early and, at least for a while, not think about Ruth. There would be no guarding her words to Ruth, no confessions needed to Nona. Her heart would settle, her senses clear. And here in her little space, she would control her world. Yes, that was the plan, and it was a good one.

  Then came a knock on her door. She overrode the fleeting temptation not to answer it. But the light was on, and she was clearly home. It would be beyond rude. Reluctantly, Audrey pulled on the robe draped over the foot of the bed, and went to the door.

  “Who is it?” she called.

  “Audrey, it’s me, Ruth.”

  The sound of her voice did exactly what tonight was supposed to avoid. Her heartbeat sprinted ahead on its own, her thoughts lost direction. A smile took over reason and Audrey opened the door.

  “Oh, Audrey, I’m sorry. You’re ready for bed. I don’t—”

  “No, no. Come in.” The look in Ruth’s eyes justified disturbing even a rare deep sleep. “What is it, Ruth? Is something wrong?”

  “There’s no one else I trust,” she said, stepping into the room. “I need to talk to someone.”

  “Here,” Audrey said, pulling the chair away from the table, “sit down and I’ll get us something to drink.” She clicked off the radio beside the bed and fetched Cokes from the icebox.

  “I hope this isn’t expecting too much of our friendship,” Ruth began. “I can’t go to my family and I don’t know anyone else here like I do you.”

  “Of course you can talk to me. What is it?”

  Ruth offered a relieved sigh. “I’m not sure where to begin, or how much would be more than you would want to know. All the way over here I thought about how I should explain. I can’t ask for advice unless you know the whole situation, so I hope you will understand.”

  Ruth’s apprehension was apparent. And if Audrey was right abou
t why, she couldn’t even reassure her that she would indeed understand. She couldn’t tell Ruth that she knew what she was afraid to say. It would only expose her own secret, and worse, her own feelings. She couldn’t chance what she might see in Ruth’s eyes or hear in her voice that could end in her pulling Ruth to her side and lead to an embrace that shouldn’t happen, couldn’t happen. She remained silent, waited for Ruth’s courage to win out, and vowed denial.

  “I need your advice and maybe your help if you are willing,” Ruth said. “I have a young friend who is in trouble.”

  Audrey released a long exhale as a wave of relief eased away the tension. Silence, she was grateful for her own silence. “I hope I can help.”

  “I do, too,” Ruth said. “She’s really got no one but me, and I have no idea what to do.” She leaned forward heavily, her forearms on the table. “Her name is Amelia. She just turned fifteen. Her family sent her away to a home for unwed mothers.” Ruth hesitated and dropped her head for a moment. When she looked up again, the tentativeness was gone. There was directness in her eyes and firmness in her voice. “Her uncle did that to her and no one will believe her. The Home will send her right back home, right back where it can keep happening.” She handed Audrey the letter she had been gripping tightly. “She’s so scared, Audrey.”

  Audrey read the letter quickly. Ruth’s intensity, as compelling as it was, wasn’t necessary. Amelia’s words, the simple beseeching, was all she needed. “Where is home for Amelia?”

  “Ohio,” Ruth replied.

  “So far away. And I think you are right, she is in danger when she goes back.”

  “I tried to prepare her the best I could. I told her to never be in the same room alone with him, and to always be aware of where he is.”