A Woman's Place

by Lynn Austin

  “Just like me with Dirk.”

  “I know of another woman in the Bible who wasn’t perfect,” Ginny said. “Her husband died, but she wanted a baby so badly that she tricked her father-in-law into sleeping with her. I know it’s wrong to trick my husband no matter how badly I want a baby. But Tamar was even worse—she tricked her father-in-law. Can you imagine?”

  “No! Never!” Rosa said in horror. “He couldn’t have been like my father-in-law. He’s a regular Mr. Holy!”

  “But Tamar’s father-in-law was supposed to be ‘Mr. Holy,”’ Jean said. “When he slept with Tamar, he thought he was sleeping with a prostitute—and he knew that what he did was wrong.”

  “That’s disgusting!” Rosa said. “I thought the people in the Bible were all goody-goodies. It’s a wonder God didn’t zap them with a lightning bolt or something.”

  “He not only didn’t zap them,” Jean said, “but Tamar’s son was one of Jesus’ ancestors, too. Tamar was His great-great-whatever-grandmother.”

  “Tell her about Bathsheba,” Helen said quietly. They all looked at her in surprise, then Jean nodded in agreement.

  “Helen is right. Bathsheba was a married woman who supposedly knew God’s laws, but she had an affair with King David—who should have known better, too. When she got pregnant, David arranged to have her husband killed so they could get married.”

  “Are you kidding? This stuff is really in the Bible? You’d think they’d clean it up or something to make their heroes look better.”

  “But that’s proof that it’s authentic, don’t you think?” Jean asked. “If they were making up fables, they would doctor up all the important people’s stories. God forgave David and Bathsheba, and Jesus is their direct descendant, too. His family members are far from goody-goodies, Rosa. You don’t have to wait until you’re good enough to come to Jesus. He takes us the way we are and He changes us. God adopts us and becomes our Father.”

  Rosa sighed. “Maybe this would be easier to understand if I had a father. I don’t really know what one is supposed to be like, so how can I understand God? Now I’m stuck with Dirk’s father, and he has so many rules and opinions, I can’t keep track of them all. He’s always criticizing me, and he doesn’t want me to have any fun at all.”

  “I used to think God’s rules were like that,” Ginny said. “Then I had children of my own, and I realized that the rules I give my boys are for their own good, so they won’t get hurt. I think it’s the same with God. We hurt ourselves, not Him, when we break His laws.”

  “Which way of life was better, Rosa?” Jean asked. “The way you lived in Brooklyn, with nobody watching out for you, or here with a family and guidelines?”

  “Well, my life is not so much of a roller-coaster ride here. The only thing that would make it happier is if Dirk came home.”

  “Mr. Voorhees isn’t being mean or trying to judge you,” Ginny said. “He’s just being a typical father. When he says you shouldn’t work, for instance, it’s because he’s worried about you and the baby. Harold wouldn’t want me to work, either, if I were pregnant. That’s just the way men are. They like to be protective.”

  The lunch whistle blew, and they had to end the discussion. But Rosa had two new thoughts to ponder as she worked that afternoon: Jesus’ family wasn’t perfect, and Mr. Voorhees was only acting like a father.

  A father? She’d never had one.

  Then Rosa thought of a third thing to ponder: Why didn’t Helen Kimball—who was so wise and so strong—believe in God anymore?

  CHAPTER 29

  November 1, 1943

  “American Marines in the Pacific Theater have invaded Bougainville,

  the largest of the Solomon Islands.”

  * Jean *

  Jean watched Rosa pull an enormous sandwich out of her lunchbox and unwrap it. Judging by the amount of food she ate every day, Rosa might be having triplets. Yet she still looked petite and shapely even though her baby was due in one month. All she had to show for it was a little bump the size of a soccer ball, hidden inside a very baggy pair of coveralls. No one had ever imagined that Rosa would get away with working until her eighth month of pregnancy.

  “It’s hard to believe this is my last week working here,” Rosa said after swallowing a huge bite of her sandwich. “I’m sure going to miss all you guys.”

  “Well, of course we’ll visit you and your baby,” Ginny said. “Just try to keep us away—right, girls?”

  “Of course … Absolutely … You bet,” everyone chorused.

  “You’ll let us know as soon as the baby is born, right?” Ginny asked. Rosa nodded, her mouth too full to talk.

  “And we want to know all about Dirk, too,” Jean said. “We’ll be praying for him.”

  “It’s so hard not knowing exactly where he is,” Rosa said. “He’s not allowed to say in his letters, and if he does let something slip, the censors cut the words right off the page. His last letter looked like a piece of Swiss cheese. Dirk’s father put all the clues together, and he thinks he’s fighting in the Marianas Islands.”

  “What kind of clues?” Jean asked.

  “Well, Dirk said to say hello to Cousin Mariana, but he doesn’t have any cousin by that name. So Mr. Voorhees thinks Dirk must be in the Marianas Islands.”

  “He’s in our prayers,” Ginny said.

  “What about Rosa’s replacement?” Helen asked. “Are they going to hire Thelma King?”

  “I think so,” Jean said. “She’s all trained and ready to go. But nobody will ever replace you, Rosa.”

  That afternoon before Jean left work, Earl Seaborn called her into his office. She could tell by the angry expression on his face that he did not have good news.

  “I had a meeting with my boss this morning. I told him that this was Rosa’s final week of work and that the wisest approach was to transfer personnel within the company. I told him that Thelma King has done excellent work in maintenance and that she is actually a skilled electrician and deserves a promotion. I fought as hard as I could for her, but I was overruled. They have someone else in mind.”

  Jean’s temper flared. “Don’t tell me I’m going to have to train someone new? That will take too much time. And why go to all that trouble when Thelma could start tomorrow?”

  “I know, I know. Those were my arguments exactly. Unfortunately for Thelma King, the person they’re hiring is also skilled—more so than Thelma, in fact. And he already works here.”

  “Who is it?”

  “One of the German prisoners—Meinhard Kesler. He was an electrical engineer back in Germany.”

  Jean groaned. “Helen Kimball will quit if he joins our crew. She hates Germans. She’ll never agree to work side-by-side with him.”

  “Why would she hate someone she doesn’t even know?”

  “I don’t know. But remember how hard she worked to get the POW camp out of Stockton? All those signatures she got on her petitions? She’s convinced that the Germans are going to sabotage something. I’m telling you, she hates all of them.”

  Earl leaned back in his chair with a sigh. “Where’s the end to all this hatred, Jean? I’ve got people who won’t work beside Thelma because she’s a Negro. Helen won’t work beside Kesler because he’s a German. Some of the men don’t want to work alongside women. Why can’t we just see each other as people? Are we really all that different from each other in God’s eyes?”

  “That’s the problem. We don’t try to see each other as God sees us.”

  “Maybe there would be fewer wars if we did.”

  “This makes me furious, Earl. We both know they would hire Thelma in a heartbeat if she were white. It’s racism, pure and simple. Can’t we fight this?”

  “I tried. I got nowhere. They didn’t come right out and say it, but they’re worried about causing more unrest here at the shipyard if they hire a Negro. There’s a lot of it going around the country these days.”

  Jean felt defeated. She stood up to leave. “Thanks for trying,
Earl.” He rose at the same time and hurried to open the door for her.

  “By the way, Jean, if you’re not doing anything this weekend, I was wondering if you would like to go to a dance with me on Saturday night.”

  She nearly blurted out, “You can dance?” but stopped herself in time.

  “It’s a fund-raiser for War Bonds,” he added when she didn’t reply. “I heard they’ve hired a terrific dance band from Chicago. What do you say?”

  Jean hesitated. Russ wrote to her nearly every week now, but it wasn’t as if they were engaged like her brother and his girlfriend. Jean had never promised not to date anyone else. She loved to dance, and Russ refused to take her. Besides, Earl was just a friend.

  “We would just go as friends,” he said, as if reading her mind. “I promise it won’t be a date—unless you’d like it to be?” He smiled hopefully.

  “My boyfriend hates to dance.”

  “Gee, that’s too bad. He doesn’t know how much fun he’s missing, does he?” Earl had a funny grin on his face that she’d never seen before.

  “I don’t want to lead you on, Earl.”

  “I understand. You’re in love with someone else. We’ll just be two friends, sharing a fun evening together for a good cause.”

  Jean couldn’t resist. “Okay. I’ll go.”

  She found herself looking forward to the dance more and more as Saturday approached. It was exciting to have a reason to dress up and use her new makeup and fix her hair. She couldn’t remember the last time she’d gone dancing. Before she had started dating Russ, that was for certain.

  Jean recognized dozens of people from the shipyard as she walked into the crowded dance hall with Earl on Saturday night. The place seemed to be especially popular with all the young female workers who’d been hired last spring after finishing high school. Jean noticed several of them staring at her and Earl, and she hoped that the rumors wouldn’t start flying around the shipyard about the two of them. Maybe this hadn’t been such a good idea after all. She took care not to snuggle close to him at their table or hold his hand.

  Then the band started to get lively, and she was surprised to discover how much fun Earl was to be with. And he was a pretty good dancer, too, considering his dragging leg. They spent the first hour on the dance floor, never taking a break until the band did. Jean felt exhilarated.

  “I haven’t had this much fun in a long time,” she told Earl.

  “Me either.”

  Jean was in the ladies’ room, refreshing her lipstick, when three girls from the shipyard cornered her. “Excuse me, can we ask you a question?” a petite brunette said. “We noticed that you’re here with Mr. Seaborn—are you two an item?”

  “No, no. We’re just friends. I have a boyfriend back home.” The girls exchanged glances, smiling. Jean was about to emphatically deny any romantic feelings toward Earl and reemphasize their friendship when one of the girls spoke up.

  “Then you wouldn’t mind if we dated Mr. Seaborn, would you?”

  “He’s really dreamy.”

  “Yeah. And a great guy.”

  “There aren’t too many nice guys left around here with all the men in the service.”

  “And he likes to dance, too.”

  Jean was so surprised she could hardly pull her thoughts together. This was the last thing in the world she’d ever expected. “N-no, I don’t mind.”

  “Great! Thanks a lot.” The trio exited the ladies’ room, giggling.

  Jean didn’t know what to think. As she walked back to her table, she spotted Earl from a distance and tried to view him through the girls’ eyes. He was hardworking, educated, responsible, polite—and quite good-looking. She’d found out tonight that he was a lot of fun to be with and a pretty good dancer, too. He’d be a great catch for any girl. He smiled when he saw Jean and stood to pull out her chair for her.

  “I bought us each a soda,” he said. “Unless you’d rather dance some more?”

  “Yeah, I would.” They danced to the next song and were just returning to their seats when the bandleader called for a “ladies’ choice.” The little brunette Jean had met in the washroom appeared out of nowhere and asked Earl to dance.

  “You don’t mind, do you?” she asked Jean.

  “Um … no, go ahead.” But Jean did mind. The girl was very petite and pretty. The top of her head came to Jean’s armpits, making her feel like a hulking Amazon. She watched Earl guide the girl smoothly around the dance floor, smiling and laughing, and was astounded to discover that she was jealous. She had no right to be, no reason to be—but she was.

  As the song neared the end, a second girl from the ladies’ room cut in on the pair. Earl politely danced through the next song with the second girl. Then the third girl pulled the same trick for a third dance. Jean was fuming. She could easily see her entire evening being sabotaged by these scheming girls—and she had only herself to blame.

  She sipped her soda as she watched from a distance, feeling very confused. If she didn’t want Earl for a boyfriend, why not stand aside and let him have fun with another girl—or three—who did want him? It wasn’t fair to Earl for Jean to stand in their way. After all, she already had a boyfriend, didn’t she? She was still trying to decide what to do when the song ended and Earl returned.

  “I’m sorry, Jean. I didn’t mean to leave you sitting here all by yourself, but they were quite insistent.”

  “That’s okay. I enjoyed listening to the music. You can dance with them some more if you want to.”

  His dark eyes met hers. “I don’t want to. I want to dance with you.” He extended his hand to her in invitation, and they walked onto the floor for a slow dance. She noticed that he pulled her a little closer than he had earlier. She let him. It felt so nice to be held tightly, possessively. She felt content in his arms. Then she saw the three girls watching from the sidelines and felt a pang of guilt.

  “Your three young dancing partners are eyeing you, Earl. I’ll bet they’d go out with you sometime if you asked. They’re all very pretty.”

  “I’m sure they have a lot of nice qualities,” Earl said carefully, “but I like a woman I can talk to. And by the way—from one friend to another—they aren’t nearly as pretty as you are.”

  Jean had no idea what to say. She’d grown up surrounded by brothers—sparring with them, teasing them, competing with them. They had always made her feel like one of the guys, and so had Russ, even after he and Jean began to cuddle and smooch. But Earl made her feel different about herself—feminine. And she didn’t know how to deal with that. She wished Ginny or Rosa were here to advise her.

  Earl gracefully fended off the other girls for the rest of the night and danced only with Jean. They stayed until the band played the very last note, sorry to see the evening end. They talked and laughed all the way home in the car, and Earl escorted Jean to the front door after they arrived—something Russ rarely did.

  The porch light was turned out, and she wondered if Earl would try to kiss her. Her heart beat a little faster at the thought.

  “We should do this again,” he said.

  “Yeah, we should. I had a wonderful time.” She looked up at him, imagining what it would feel like to have his lips on hers.

  He opened the front door for her and smiled. “Well … good night, Jean. See you on Monday.”

  “Good night.”

  He turned and walked back to his car. Jean didn’t understand why she felt so disappointed.

  CHAPTER 30

  * Virginia *

  Ginny lifted the collar of her coat, shivering as she and Helen stepped from the factory into the cold November air. “I don’t know how you can ride your bicycle to work every day when it’s this cold,” she told Helen.

  “I promised myself I wouldn’t drive until there was snow on the ground, but I may have to renege. I hope the old beast starts up after all these months.”

  “I would drive every day if I knew how. I have so many errands to run, and it sure would make my
life easier if I didn’t have to wait for buses.”

  Helen stopped walking. “Why don’t you learn to drive?”

  “I don’t have time, for one thing. I work here all day, and I have all of my housework to do on evenings and Saturdays. Besides, I don’t think Harold would ever have the patience to teach me.”

  “I’ll teach you.”

  “Oh, Helen. I would hate to trouble you. And yours is such a beautiful old car…. What if I dented it?”

  “Good riddance to that monstrosity! Besides, if you learned to drive on that huge old thing, you’d be able to drive any car. I’ve given lessons before, you know. I taught Jimmy to drive in no time at all, and he—” Helen stopped. She looked away, as if sorry she had divulged so much. She started walking again.

  Ginny knew from the snatches of conversation she’d overheard that Jimmy was the man Helen had once loved. The girls at work were dying to know what had happened to him, but none of them dared to ask.

  “We’ll start tomorrow,” Helen said. “I’ll bring the car and you can practice driving to and from work every day.”

  Ginny thought about the prospect of learning to drive all that evening. She was about to burgeon out in another new direction! It was on the tip of her tongue several times to confide in Harold as they ate dinner, but she decided not to. What if she turned out to be a failure behind the wheel? She had watched Harold shifting gears and stomping all the pedals, and it seemed so daunting. It would be injudicious to tell him about the lessons until she found out if she could get the hang of it.

  The next day Ginny sat behind the steering wheel of a car for the first time in her life. “I feel so dumb,” she said.

  “Listen to me, Virginia,” Helen said sternly. “You have to get rid of the notion that you’re dumb. All it takes to drive a car are a few lessons and a little self-confidence.”

  “Harold is Old School,” Ginny said with a sigh. “He thinks that driving a car isn’t very feminine.”

  “This belief that women are the weaker sex, incapable of doing things like driving, is pure rubbish. You’ve already proven that by building ships this past year, haven’t you?”