by Lynn Austin
“I don’t fit in too good in that church,” Rosa said with her mouth full of pie. “Everybody is so stiff and straight-laced—especially my in-laws. Dirk’s father shoots daggers at me with his eyes every time I move or make a peep. His mother thought my dress was too short to wear to church, and she kept motioning for me to pull it down every time I crossed my legs. She even made me wear one of her hats to church. Me—in a hat! Hah! It had flowers on it and one of those fishnet things. I’m telling you, it was torture.”
Helen couldn’t imagine Rosa sitting primly in church. Nor would a hat help her look any less seductive—even with flowers and a veil. She would attract male attention in a gunnysack.
“Listen, why don’t you sit with my sister Patty and me next week?” Jean asked. “I’ll introduce you to some people our age.”
“Gee, I don’t know. Religious people are always condemning girls like me, telling us we’re going to hell and stuff like that. I only went because my in-laws practically forced me to, but I don’t really belong there. I see the church ladies smiling and hugging and being holy, and I know I’ll never fit in. I’m nothing like them. Those people started learning to be good from the day they signed up for Sunday school, and they have parents and grandparents who went to church for ages and ages, too. I never met my father, much less my grandparents, but I’m pretty sure they never set foot in no church. Dirk knows the truth about me, but his parents sure don’t.”
“But it sounds like going to church is important to your husband’s family,” Ginny said. “Why not give it another chance, Rosa? Sit with Jean next time. It’ll help keep peace in your household if you do go.”
“And it’s only for an hour,” Jean added. “There’s nothing worse than living in a home that’s a war zone.”
“Yes, there is,” Helen said softly. She didn’t think anyone would hear her, but they all turned to stare at her.
“What could possibly be worse?” Ginny asked.
The question embarrassed Helen, but she had to answer. It would be rude not to. “Going home to an empty house,” she said quietly.
“Oh, Helen,” Ginny said, wrapping her arm around her shoulder. The motherly gesture came so natural to Ginny, but it startled Helen. Her family had always avoided such open displays of affection, and so had she. She couldn’t recall the last time someone had embraced her. Had it been Albert, all those years ago? She lifted her chin to keep away the tears.
“Don’t mind me. I shouldn’t have spoken.”
“Of course you should have!” Ginny insisted, giving her shoulder a squeeze. “You don’t need to be afraid to tell us how you feel. That’s what friends are for.”
“Why didn’t you get married if you don’t like being all alone?” Rosa asked.
Helen ignored her. Didn’t anyone ever teach that girl to think before she spoke? No wonder her home was a war zone.
“It’s not polite to ask such personal questions, Rosa,” Ginny said as the silence lengthened.
“I really admire you, Helen, for having a career all those years,” Jean said. “Not too many women do. I guess I’m a bit unconventional, too, because I want to go to college when the war ends. Sometimes I wonder if there’s something wrong with me, why I’m so different from other girls my age. They all want to get married or become secretaries, but marriage is the last thing in the world I want. Not yet, anyway. Maybe it’s because I grew up surrounded by brothers, but I know I’m just as smart as they are, just as capable of going to college or flight school or anywhere else that they go. But I have a hard time convincing the rest of the world. My school guidance counselor kept trying to steer me into teaching or nursing as a career, and it made my blood boil—no offense, Helen.”
“No offense taken. But I hope you’re prepared to fight a lot of battles along the way. The world will leave you alone as long as you stick to one of the traditional women’s careers, but not if you try to venture out of those boundaries. One of my classmates in college decided to study medicine, and she traveled a very hard road. If women try to compete in a man’s world, they have to continually prove themselves. It isn’t enough to be as good as the men are, you have to be better. Society still believes that a woman’s place is in the home.”
“I think it’s wonderful that Jean is so determined,” Ginny said. “I went to college for a year, but then I met my husband and he wanted to get married, so I never finished.”
“What did you want to study?” Jean asked.
“Oh, I don’t know … nothing, really. My father said I should go because I could meet a man who had a professional career. That’s the only reason any of the girls in my high school class went to college—to find a husband. It didn’t matter what majors we chose because we all knew we would never finish anyway.”
“That’s absurd,” Helen said. Her words came out with such vehemence that everyone stared at her again. “I’m sorry, but I think education is very important for women.”
“I’m with you,” Jean said. “But we’re in the minority in this world.”
“What about your boyfriend?” Rosa asked Jean. “You told me you had a guy waiting for you back home. Don’t you want to marry him and have kids?”
“Of course I do.” Jean stuffed a rather dry-looking piece of cake back into her lunchbox and snapped it shut. “But Russell and I are both pretty young. He isn’t ready to get married and neither am I. We’ll figure things out after I finish college.”
“Well, I lived on my own long enough to know I hated it,” Rosa said. “Now I just want this stupid war to be over so’s me and Dirk can be together again.”
“Dirk and I,” Helen corrected.
Rosa stared at her as if she had used profanity. “Dirk and you … ?”
“No, no. I’m sorry; I was correcting your grammar. I’ve been a teacher for so many years that I do it automatically. The correct way to say it is ‘Dirk and I,’ not ‘me and Dirk.”’
“You got a lot of nerve.”
“Yes, I suppose I do. I’m sorry.” Helen never should have joined the other women. She always seemed to be the odd one out. Staying away had made her seem uppity, but now her conversation had reinforced that attitude—at least in Rosa’s mind.
“Listen, I’m sorry if I give the impression that I think I’m better than everyone. I don’t feel that way at all. In fact, I feel like an outsider for entirely different reasons.”
“Oh yeah? Why’s that?” Rosa asked. She had her arms folded across her chest, an expression of belligerence on her pretty face.
“Well … because you’re all so much younger, for one thing. And your interests differ from mine.”
“Because we’re married or have boyfriends?”
“That’s part of it, Rosa. I became a teacher because I wanted to provide disadvantaged young people with a good education. I attended private boarding schools when I was growing up and graduated from Vassar, an exclusive girls’ college in New York State. Most of the rural schools in this part of Michigan were one-room buildings, and all eight grades shared the same room and the same teacher. The teachers weren’t much older than their students and had only two years of training at the Normal School before teaching an entire class. Stockton is a fairly large town, so our schools at least have separate grades now—but many of the rural ones are still one-room schoolhouses. I wanted to provide the disadvantaged students and the colored children in this county with a better education.”
“So why’d you quit teaching?” Rosa asked. “Why’re you working here?”
Ginny laid her hand on Rosa’s arm. “You really shouldn’t ask such personal questions, Rosa,” she said gently.
“I don’t mind answering that one,” Helen said. “My parents both became ill a little over a year ago, and I had to resign from teaching to care for them. They’ve both passed away, but now I have to wait until there is an opening at school to reapply.”
“Don’t you find it kinda boring here? You being an educated person and all?”
; “I suppose it’s boring at times, Rosa. I would hate to do this for the rest of my life. But any job can become routine if you let yourself get into a rut.”
“Housework can certainly be boring,” Ginny said with a sigh. “It’s nice to do something different for a change.” The attention shifted to Ginny, and Helen felt greatly relieved. “I loved it when the boys were babies,” Ginny continued. “And I’d love to have more children, but Harold says two are enough.”
“Why is it all up to him?” Rosa asked. “Don’t you have any say in the matter?”
“Well … no. I mean, he’s the one who has to provide for them.”
“Are you too poor to have more? How much money does your husband make?”
Helen silently shook her head at the girl’s lack of tact. Even Ginny seemed taken aback for a moment. “It’s not a question of money… .” she began. But then the whistle blew. Lunch hour was over.
As the afternoon dragged on, Helen noticed that Ginny was watching the clock, growing increasingly nervous as the shift drew to a close and the time came to face her husband.
“See you all on Monday,” Jean said after the whistle blew.
“I hope so,” Ginny murmured. “I have to tell Harold about this job when he comes home tonight, and I’m so afraid he’ll make me quit.”
“Please don’t quit,” Jean said. “The men heckle us as it is, saying that women don’t have what it takes to work here, and blaming us for slowing down the line. As if it’s always our fault. Besides, I’d hate to lose you, Ginny. You’re a good worker.”
“Thank you … but—”
Helen could no longer remain silent. “Virginia—if I may say something. I know it’s none of my business, but …” In fact, Helen had always prided herself on minding her own business and not becoming involved in the lives of the other teachers at school. She didn’t know what had come over her now that caused her to speak up. Maybe it was because Harold Mitchell reminded her so much of her own father. Maybe, deep down, she was still angry with him after all these years. Or maybe it was because she hated to see such a warm, caring woman as Virginia have all the love bullied out of her. Whatever the reason, she had to speak up.
“Yes, please,” Ginny begged. “I could use some advice. Harold always admired you as a teacher.”
Helen drew a deep breath. “Sometimes you have to decide for yourself what’s best for you to do. Only you can determine that. Others may mean well, but they usually have their own interests at heart. I wonder … if Mr. Mitchell asked you to quit, would it be because it’s best for him or for you?”
“I don’t want to be selfish. I have the children to think about … .”
“Your boys are bright, responsible children. Give them some credit. I’m certain they can handle your working. Besides, I can’t believe that you, of all people, would be a neglectful, selfish mother.”
“Thank you.” Ginny’s words came out in a near whisper.
“You’re a grown woman, capable of making your own decisions. It isn’t up to Mr. Mitchell to decide whether or not you should work; it’s up to you.” With that, Helen left. She had spoken her mind, gotten it off her chest. Even so, she didn’t expect to see Ginny on Monday morning.
By the time Helen reached home, the big house on River Street looked inviting for once, quiet and serene after the clamor and activity of the shipyard. And she was glad to see that it wasn’t empty; her mother’s housekeeper, Minnie, was still there, putting away the last of her cleaning supplies in the pantry closet.
“You look wore out, Miss Helen. I got your supper cooking in the oven.”
“Why don’t you stay and eat with me? I’ll drive you home afterward in Father’s car.”
“Thank you, Miss Helen, but I can’t stay. I have my granddaughter Thelma living with me now, and I need to get on home and fix us some dinner.”
“Maybe another time,” Helen said, disappointed. “It seems like I never take the time to tell you how much I appreciate everything you do—”
“Oh, please don’t make this any harder than it already is,” Minnie interrupted. “The reason I waited around today is because there’s something I need to tell you.”
“You’re not quitting!” Helen sank down on a kitchen chair.
“I’m sorry, Miss Helen, but the truth is, you don’t need me no more. I know you don’t. And there’s all kinds of good jobs out there where I can make a little more money. They don’t even care that I’m nearly sixty-five years old.”
“How much are they paying you? I’ll give you a raise.” Minnie shook her head.
“I can’t be taking more money from you for doing nothing around here. This place don’t need cleaning every day. My granddaughter can come and clean once a month if you want her to, but that’s all this place needs.”
“Yes, I suppose you’re right. And I do know how to clean up after myself. I did all of my own cooking and cleaning for years when I had my own house. It’s just that … I’m so sorry to see you go.” Helen gave Minnie a week’s pay, along with a hefty bonus, and said good-bye. As she stood in the kitchen doorway watching her walk away, Helen felt a terrible loss.
CHAPTER 7
* Rosa *
Rosa arrived home from work at 3:45 to find her mother-in-law already busy cooking supper. Talk about an eager beaver! Mr. Voorhees wouldn’t even come home from work for another hour and a half!
“Did you have a good day, dear?” Mrs. Voorhees asked as Rosa put her lunchbox in the sink.
“It was okay.”
The kitchen smelled wonderful—even better than the diner did where Rosa used to work. She would gain a hundred pounds in no time if Mrs. Voorhees kept feeding her this way. Rosa had never eaten three square meals a day in her life, much less had someone cook them for her. And such delicious meals.
“Did you have enough to eat for lunch?” Tena asked. “Am I packing enough food for you?”
“Yeah, plenty … but I can do it myself, you know.”
“I always fix a lunch for Wolter, so it’s no bother to pack one for you, too.”
“Okay, then. Thanks.”
The house was so clean it sparkled. Rosa was almost afraid to walk across the floor or sit down anywhere. But when she went into Dirk’s room and saw the mess she had created in the once-spotless room, she felt a stab of guilt.
“Rosa, you’re a slob,” she mumbled as she changed out of her coveralls. She had ordered Tena to stay out of her room, and now look at it. The bed hadn’t been made all week. Clothes everywhere. And the pile of cosmetics on the desk looked like a drugstore had exploded. Rosa was gazing around in dismay, wondering where to begin, when Tena knocked on the door.
“May I ask you something, Rosa?” she said, poking her head inside.
“Hey, I know it’s a mess. I’ll get to it when I can, okay? I had a long day.”
“It isn’t about the room.”
“What, then?” She wasn’t sure she wanted to hear it.
Tena hesitated before speaking, her work-reddened hands fluttering like pigeons. “I know that my husband can be stubborn sometimes. He has opinions about things like women working. But I would like to have peace in this household. To hear you two arguing at the dinner table each night … it hurts me. Please, can’t you try to get along a little better?”
“Tell him to stop picking on me all the time.” Rosa kicked a pair of shoes out of sight beneath the bed.
“My husband has always said what he thinks. You must learn, like I have, to listen and not say anything. Once he speaks, he is done. Dirk is the same. He’s so much like his father that I think if you can get used to Wolter, it will help you when Dirk comes home.”
“Hey, I’m not the type to just sit back and take that kind of baloney, okay? I can dish it out, too, you know.” She corralled her scattered makeup containers into a small mound in the middle of the desk.
“But what is the use? You won’t change Wolter’s mind. The Bible says, ‘A soft answer turneth away wrath.’
Please, Rosa. Try it once and see.”
Rosa remembered how Dirk had always spoken his mind with the other sailors, but he had never tried to order her around. Of course, they’d only been married a short time, and she hadn’t done anything to make him mad the way she had angered his father. She and Dirk had been crazy in love, still on their honeymoon, when they’d had to go their separate ways.
“Yeah, okay. I’ll try,” she told Mrs. Voorhees.
“Thank you.” Tena smiled, but her eyes still looked sad and worried.
Being on her feet all day had exhausted Rosa, and she longed to lie down and take a nap before dinner. She decided to straighten her room instead. She was still sorting through piles of clothing when she heard Mr. Voorhees come home. A few minutes later, Tena called her to dinner.
“So. You have worked for a week,” Mr. Voorhees said after he’d prayed over their food. “Are you ready to give up this idea of a job and stay home?”
Rosa’s temper flared, but she glanced at her mother-in-law and saw the pleading look in her eyes. Rosa forced herself not to shout at him, but it was the hardest thing she’d ever done.
“I been working all my life, Mr. Voorhees, ever since I was fourteen. I was working when me and Dirk … Dirk and I … met, and he didn’t say nothing about it.” She glanced at Tena again and saw a tiny smile of approval. Rosa suddenly had an idea. “Hey, listen, how about if I give you some money from my pay every week for my room and board? How much you want?”
Mr. Voorhees looked startled—and annoyed—by her offer. “It is the man’s job to support his family.”
“Okay, then, I’ll give you money out of Dirk’s pay. I know prices are high these days, and I been eating like a pig. The food is so good, you know. And Dirk would want us to help out.”
“Have you told him that you are working?” Mr. Voorhees asked.
“Yeah, I wrote him a letter telling him all about it. It’s too soon to hear back, though. I told him that working gives me something to do all day. She don’t really need my help around here,” Rosa said, gesturing to Mrs. Voorhees. “I told Dirk we could save up and maybe buy us a house or something when he comes home.”
