A Woman's Place

by Lynn Austin

  “But you deserve to be happy, Helen—and to be with the man you love. If your father is willing to disown his only child over it, then he deserves to be alone. And if your mother pines away with grief when you’re still alive and well and married to someone you love, then that’s her fault, not yours. Your parents have no right to manipulate you or choose your future for you.” He was silent for another moment, then asked, “Do you think it’s too late to change your mind?”

  “You mean about our wedding?”

  “No, I meant for you and this other man. But I guess it concerns us, too. If you’re going to spend the rest of your life with me, I want it to be your choice, not your father’s.”

  He gazed at her for a long time as if trying to read her mind. Or maybe he was searching for a sign of affection or hope. She knew he wouldn’t find one. “You’re a good man, Albert,” she said softly.

  He sighed. “We’ll postpone the wedding, then, until I come back.”

  He left disheartened, and Helen felt sorry for him. But she couldn’t get Albert’s words out of her mind. Was it too late for her and Jimmy?

  If her siblings’ brief lives had taught her anything, it was that life was short, happiness fleeting. Helen’s mother derived no joy from life, and Helen seemed headed for the same fate. What good was all her father’s money if she was miserable? And what good would it do to please her parents if she was unhappy for the rest of her life? Albert was right: Her parents were responsible for how they reacted to Helen’s choices. She wasn’t.

  Again she wondered if it was too late for her and Jimmy. Helen still loved him. And if he still loved her, then they should be together. Why should she waste her life trying to please others?

  With a burst of hope and joy, Helen decided to write to Jimmy right away—tonight. She would tell him that she loved him and wanted to spend the rest of her life with him. For the first time since she’d kissed him good-bye, she felt truly happy.

  Unwilling to wait until Joe Bernard came to work in the yard in the morning, Helen jumped into her car and drove to his house on the edge of town. She would get Jimmy’s address, then write and tell him that she had finally made up her mind. It wasn’t too late for them.

  Jimmy and his father lived in a ramshackle neighborhood near the lumberyard. Surely Helen’s father could afford to pay Joe better than this for all the hard work he did. Was Father that stingy? Because of him, Jimmy had been forced to quit school and go to work to pay for doctors and medicine for his mother. At that moment, Helen hated her father.

  The Bernard house was small and in need of a coat of paint, but flowers filled the well-tended front gardens and window boxes. Helen wondered if Joe Bernard had planted them for his wife. He came to the front door after she’d knocked, with a look of surprise—or maybe fear—on his face.

  “Evening, Miss Kimball.”

  “Good evening, Joe. I was wondering …” She was suddenly at a loss for words. Did Joe know that she and his son were in love? How much had Jimmy told his father? She cleared her throat and started again. “I was wondering if I could have Jimmy’s mailing address. I’d like to write to him.”

  “I hear that you’re engaged to be married, Miss Kimball.”

  It wasn’t reproach that she heard in his tone, but uncertainty. What should she say? How much should she tell him? Helen decided on the truth. He deserved that much.

  “I am … that is, I was … engaged. But I’m in love with your son and he loves me. I want to write to him and find out if it’s too late for us. I want to ask him if he’ll take me back.”

  “We’re simple people, Miss Kimball. Poor people.” He lifted his hands, gesturing to the crumbling front porch before letting them fall to his sides again.

  “Money shouldn’t matter if two people love each other, should it?”

  “It’s more than just the money, Miss Helen. Your people and mine … well, we come from two different worlds. It would never work—”

  “Jimmy and I love each other, Joe. We can make it work.”

  He seemed to wrestle with his thoughts for a long moment. “Come in,” he finally said and held the door open for her. Joe Bernard was not the kind of man who would argue with his boss’s daughter.

  The air was very warm inside the house and had the stale odor of boarded-up rooms and unopened windows. The furnishings were worn, the wood floors bare. The house had the grimy, cluttered look of a womanless home. Could she live here? Was she certain? Her father would surely disown her. “Don’t call my bluff,” he had warned. Once Helen informed him that she was marrying Jimmy, there would be no turning back. She closed her eyes and imagined Jimmy’s arms around her and knew she wanted to spend the rest of her life with him, no matter where they lived.

  Joe retrieved a pile of letters from the kitchen table and bent over them, copying the address for her onto a piece of paper. “Here you go, Miss Kimball.” His face wore a sorrowful look as he handed the paper to her. Was he afraid for his son?

  “I love him, Joe. That’s all that matters.”

  “Miss Helen? … Miss Helen?” She came out of her reverie as Thelma called to her. “You were a million miles away, Miss Helen.”

  “Yes, you’re right, I was. I’m sorry. By the way, the house looks wonderful. Thank you for doing such a fine job.”

  “You’re welcome, but I ain’t finished with everything yet.”

  “I know. And as much as I’d hate to lose you as my cleaning woman, I’m going to speak with Mr. Seaborn on Monday about getting you a job at the shipyard.”

  CHAPTER 19

  February 1943

  “Allied forces capture Guadalcanal, in the Solomon Islands,

  after heavy fighting.”

  * Jean *

  Jean’s boyfriend hadn’t exaggerated when he’d described the grueling trip between his farm and Stockton. Jean found out firsthand when she left town on the early morning bus one Saturday in February and spent a long, cramped day trying to get home to Indiana. Three times she changed buses, waiting in dirty, overcrowded stations, but she would have changed a dozen times for the chance to see her twin brother, Johnny, again, home on furlough before the air force shipped him overseas. She could hardly wait.

  As the familiar scenes of her hometown came into view at last, Jean found it hard to believe that more than a year had passed since John left home for boot camp and she had moved to Stockton. Before the war they’d never been separated for more than a day and had never celebrated their birthday apart. She sat on the edge of her seat as the bus pulled into town, eager for her first glimpse of him. She spotted Russ instead, looking tall and handsome, and realized how very much she had missed him. And there beside him was Johnny! He looked so different in his air force uniform that she might not have recognized him among all the other soldiers if Russ hadn’t been standing alongside him. Johnny’s girlfriend, Sue, clung to his arm.

  Jean grabbed her belongings and bolted off the bus. Russ ran to greet her first, lifting her into his arms. He kissed her in the parking lot in the frigid February air, not caring who saw them, and every mile of the weary journey had been worth it.

  “Oh, Russ! It’s so good to see you!”

  “I’m never letting you out of my arms again.”

  They kissed once more as the bus roared off to its next destination, enveloping them in diesel fumes. Jean barely noticed the cold or the smell. She finally held Russ in her arms.

  “Hey, save a hug for me,” her brother said as he sauntered up to them. Russ released her, and Johnny pulled her into his arms, whirling her in a circle.

  “You look wonderful, Johnny,” she laughed. “You’ve grown up!”

  “Yeah, you too. Is that what happens when you leave home? Look at you all dolled up. You look like a city girl, not a farm girl.”

  “I’m still the same underneath.” She turned to Johnny’s girlfriend, who had hurried forward to reclaim him again. “Hi, Sue. How are you?”

  “Great, now that Johnny’s home.”<
br />
  Sue wrapped her arms around him, as if determined to hold on to him every moment that she possibly could, and some of Jean’s happiness turned to worry. Johnny had written to say that Sue wanted to get married while he was home on furlough. Jean had mailed a quick letter back to her brother on the same day.

  We’re going to college after the war, remember? she had written. You’ll have plenty of time to get married after we graduate and get jobs. She hoped he had heeded her advice. But before she could ask, Sue flung out her left hand to display the tiny diamond ring on her finger.

  “Look what Johnny gave me. We got engaged last night.” Sue’s eyes shone with happy tears.

  “Congratulations,” Jean said. “Have you set a date?” She hoped she sounded more enthusiastic than she felt.

  Sue looked up at Johnny. “Not until after the war. Right, Sweetie?”

  “That’s right. We gotta take care of Hitler first.” They gazed at each other with so much love in their eyes that Jean was astounded to discover that she was jealous.

  “Okay, let’s get going,” Russ said. He picked up Jean’s suitcase with one hand and wrapped his other arm around her waist as they walked to his truck. Jean loved the warm, solid feeling of having Russ beside her, the smell of sunshine and fresh air on his wool coat. Johnny fell into step with them, taking Jean’s other arm, and the world felt right again.

  “We’ll see you back at the house, okay?” Johnny said when they reached the parking lot. “Dad loaned me his car.”

  Jean watched him climb into it and drive away with Sue and wondered why she didn’t feel happy for them. Instead, she felt betrayed by Johnny for getting engaged.

  “Hey, there … Remember me?” Russ suddenly asked. She turned to him and he bent to kiss her again before helping her into his truck.

  “Boy, I thought I’d never get here,” she told him as he started the engine. “I don’t know how you ever fit in those bus seats, Russ. I felt squished, and you’re even taller than I am.” The town flashed by, unchanged, as they drove down Main Street. Funny, but it no longer felt like home to Jean.

  “Don’t go back to Stockton, Jean. Stay here,” Russ said.

  She looked at him in surprise. “What about all my clothes and things?”

  “Your sister can mail them home to you.”

  “I can’t just quit my job,” she said with an uneasy laugh.

  Russ brushed a strand of her fair hair away from her face as he paused at the town’s only stop sign. “Why not? I was hoping you already had quit. Haven’t we been talking about it in our letters for months and months now?”

  “I need to land another job first before I quit this one.”

  “Well, then I’ve got great news,” he told her, downshifting into first gear. “I talked to one of the managers at the old furniture factory here in town, and they’re hiring new workers. He’s going to be in his office today if you want to fill out an application. I thought we could go there first thing.”

  Jean felt a prickle of irritation as he turned the truck in that direction. She didn’t like to be pressured. “Can’t I go home and see my family first?”

  “The guy will only be in his office until three o’clock—and it’s after two now. Besides, why waste gas driving all the way out to your farm and back again?”

  “Oh, all right,” she said with a sigh. “I guess we may as well go there first.” She didn’t want to be difficult, and besides, the factory was here in town.

  The dreary brick structure looked like something from the nineteenth century instead of the twentieth. They entered through the front door, and Jean glimpsed rows and rows of sewing machines on the factory floor. It wasn’t nearly as noisy as the shipyard—or as exciting.

  “Did you say they make parachutes now?” she asked Russ. He nodded. “Then I don’t suppose they’ll have much use for trained electricians.” They made their way to the manager’s office and asked for an application form. Russ waited patiently, jingling the truck keys, while Jean filled it out.

  “We have several openings for seamstresses,” the manager told her as he looked over her application. “I see you already have factory experience—that’s good—even if it’s not behind a sewing machine. The job is yours if you want it. When can you start?”

  “Monday morning,” Russ said. Jean made a face at him.

  “I’ll let you know,” she told the man. “Thank you.”

  “I don’t understand why you’re hesitating,” Russ said as they returned to his truck.

  “I need to figure out a few things first—like when I can move home and how I’ll get back and forth to work every day. You know how far out of town my parents live. It’s not like I can hop on a bus to work.”

  “It sounds to me like you’re looking for excuses.”

  “I’m not. But one thing you need to learn about me is that I like to take my time making decisions.”

  He shrugged in response.

  The flat, barren farmland lay frozen beneath a layer of snow as they drove out of town to Jean’s parents’ farm. After living in Stockton for the past nine months, she had forgotten how much she loved the open spaces and vast stretches of sky. She could see her father’s barn and the jumbled outbuildings surrounding the house from a quarter of a mile away.

  Then she was home again, snug in the farmhouse kitchen with its aroma of woodsmoke and bread dough, enveloped in her mother’s sturdy arms. “Welcome home, Jeannie!”

  “I’ve missed you, Ma.”

  “You look beautiful, honey. So grown-up. Have you done something different with your hair?”

  “I got a new haircut. Do you like it? Rosa, a girl from work, has been giving me advice.”

  “You look like a film star.”

  Jean’s father and three of her younger brothers tromped in from the barn to greet her, carrying the wonderful fragrance of cows and hay.

  “Boots off, fellows,” Jean’s mother ordered. The shoes thumped onto the floor into an untidy pile, and the kitchen quickly became an ant colony of activity with laughter and hugs and greetings.

  Jean’s father looked older than she remembered, and tired. He probably missed his older sons’ help on the farm. He sat down at the kitchen table, and Ma sliced into a freshly baked crumb cake and poured coffee.

  “So what’s the latest news of my vagabond brothers?” Jean asked.

  “Never thought I’d have sons traveling all over the world,” her father said proudly. “One in New Guinea, another roaming around somewhere in the South Pacific, Peter’s still in Iceland, and now Johnny’s heading off to England. Who would have thought?”

  An hour flew past as Jean talked and laughed with her family. Then she noticed that Russell was growing restless, rising from his place at the table to pace near the door.

  “What’s the matter?” she asked him. “You look like you’re late for an appointment.”

  “I want to show you something before it gets dark. Can I steal her away for a while, Mrs. Erickson?”

  “Sure, go ahead,” Ma urged. “You young people need some time to yourselves.”

  Russ drove Jean toward his father’s farm several miles away. But he bypassed the brick farmhouse and parked his truck along the side of the road a quarter of a mile down the lane. They climbed out and crunched through the crusty snow to a little island of woodland surrounded by cornfields. It was on one of the very few hills in this part of Indiana. When they stopped walking, Jean savored the frozen winter silence that fell all around them.

  Russell took Jean into his arms and kissed her, then said, “This piece of land is mine. My father said I could build a house on it when we get married someday.”

  Jean’s heart raced with happiness—and fear. “It’s beautiful! I would love to live out here with you. But we’re a little young to talk about marriage, don’t you think?”

  “Maybe. But someday we’ll be ready. Tell me, which way do you want the front door to face?”

  She laughed and kissed him again. �
��I don’t know … what do you think? Facing the sunset, maybe?”

  “Mmm. That’s a good idea. Then we can sit out on the front porch and admire it every night.” He kissed her again, a long, lingering kiss that warmed Jean to her toes. “Now that you’re moving back home,” he murmured, “we can start planning our future. The war can’t last forever, you know.”

  The ripple of fear returned. She hoped Russ wasn’t going to propose. Jean wasn’t ready to get engaged like Johnny and Sue. “Don’t forget, I still have four years of college ahead of me,” she said quickly. She saw a sudden flash of irritation in Russ’s eyes. “What’s wrong?”

  “I thought maybe you’d given up on the idea of college by now.”

  “Why would I do that?”

  “I don’t see what you need college for. We’re going to live on a farm. You always said you didn’t want to be a teacher.”

  “I don’t.”

  “Then why waste four years of your life?”

  Waste? Jean drew a deep breath, searching for the words to explain how she felt. She couldn’t find any. “We were so happy a minute ago, Russ. Let’s not ruin the few hours we have together by hashing this out right now, okay? We’ll have lots of time to talk about things like this if I move back home.”

  “If you move home?”

  “You know what I mean. I need to think things through before I decide. Please, just give me a little time and some space to do that, okay?”

  “Whatever you want, Jean.” He took her hand as they walked back to his truck, but she could tell by his stiff shoulders and outthrust chin that he was angry. Thankfully, Russ never stayed angry for very long. By the time they drove back to Jean’s farm his good nature had returned. “See you later,” he said as he left to help his father with the evening chores.

  Johnny arrived home a few minutes later, and Jean spent the rest of the afternoon with him, reminiscing about their childhood and high school years, laughing about the pranks they’d played with their older brother Danny. Their younger brothers sprawled across the living room rug like puppies, listening to their stories as if it were a radio program.