May Cocker (Cocker Brothers Book 24)

by Faleena Hopkins

  Tearing the package I laugh, “You look more relieved than I am! Oh look, there’s a whole stack!” I hold them up. “He must’ve been writing to me the whole time.”

  I start to open one, and look at Mother’s expectant face. “Gee, perhaps I should read these alone.”

  Disappointment slumps her shoulders. “Oh!”

  My face twists and I laugh, “How about I read just one?”

  She drops her sponge in the bucket and stands for a hand towel. “I am curious.” Hastily she adds, “And not in the way you might think.” She stares at her pruned fingers, carefully drying them. “A mother just wants her children to be happy. That’s all she ever wants. And well, you’re all I’ve got.” She looks at me. “To see you waiting for those letters, just broke my heart. And I must admit, it did occur to me that they might not come. I’ve been waiting on pins and needles for you.” I walk to give her a hug, and she says, “Not your dirty shoes on my clean tile!”

  “Oh I’ll clean the footprints in a minute, never you mind. This is more important!” I squeeze her tight. “Thank you for being so good to me!”

  She hugs me back and takes a deep breath as I lean against the counter to unfold the letter that was on top of the stack.

  “Dear May, When I arrived in Norfolk, I climbed into the sail of a new submarine with a whole new crew. Not something I anticipated. Being granted special leave on account of Pops’ heart attack meant I would return off schedule, with my crew already deployed. And there’s no getting around that, I’m afraid. The men seem OK, but I sure will miss my friends. And I already miss you. That’s a whole lot of missing for one man to take. But I sure was glad I got to see you before I left.

  I’m not sure when this will get to you, but when it does there will be a whole lot more. I plan to write you as often as I can. Shifts are long, and sleep is mandatory. But I made sure to bring enough paper with me for two more wars. When you get a stack of my letters you’ll know that though I’m here and you’re there, you are on my mind. Yours, Jerald Cocker.”

  I fold and hold it to my heart.

  Impressed, Mother says, “Well that is something, isn't it?”

  Excited to read them all, I grab a soda pop from the fridge. But as soon as my fingers wrap around the glass, she says, “May, those aren’t good for your girlish figure.“

  “Just one! Everything in moderation doesn’t mean total abstinence. I think it just means not to get lost in a thing!”

  “Save it for special occasions.”

  “Oh, alright.” I put the soda pop back, and, remembering my promise, go to sponge up the prints my shoes left in mom‘s hard work.

  “Never mind that. You go on. This is a special day.”

  “You mean a soda pop kind of special day?”

  She laughs, “Fine, you win! But no more this week!”

  Happily snatching one from the refrigerator, I pop the top and pause, frowning at it. I hand it to her. “You so rarely allow yourself to have special things. You have it.” She doesn’t know what to say as I bound out of the room with my precious letters.

  31

  JERALD

  Dear May,

  I figure you probably don’t know much about submarines. If I’m wrong about that, I beg your pardon. I thought I might share some things so you aren’t left in the dark when I return to Georgia.

  Speaking of dark, I’ll begin there. There are three lighting conditions on the boat.

  White Condition: when lights are on in the daytime. In fact, that’s how we know it’s daytime at all, if the lights are on.

  Red Condition: when lightbulbs are all red. This is to get our eyes used to the darkness. That’s all it’s for.

  Because then there’s the last one: Black Condition: lights out with our instruments backlit in red.

  Just picture it, us behind our wheels near in pitch blackness save for our instruments glowing red. Sitting on that seat feels like an honor. Like I’m trusted. It sure does make a man feel his worth. That’s all for now, I guess. Except for one thing… I sure do wish I could see your smile. The memory of it keeps me going.

  Yours,

  Jerald Cocker

  Dear May,

  I need to get some shut eye so this will be brief, but I wanted to write. Even though I’m far away these letters make me feel close to you.

  We’ve come up on some rough waters lately. Those German U-boats sure do mean business. They’re nicknamed ‘Wolfpack’ because they travel in packs to attack, and unfortunately it’s a very effective technique. We lost a few subs in our fleet, and I can’t say much more about that except it was felt all around. Our captain is one of the finest. After the scrapes he’s gotten us out of, we all believe in him now more than ever. I tell you that so you know I’m in good hands. I’m awful tired, but every time I think of you, my darling May, I feel a bounce in my step again even if it doesn’t show.

  Yours,

  Jerald Cocker

  Dearest May,

  I’ve been racking my brain for something to share that might make you smile. I think I found something. Guess where we keep our dress uniforms? Under our mattresses. See those are on metal bunks, so laying our clothes underneath, and then sleeping on top, keeps the uniforms pressed and doubles as storage. We sailors don’t bring our civilian clothes on board. And there isn’t enough room for closets, so storing our dress uniforms underneath the mattress works just fine. Besides that we have a cubbyhole that’s 12 x 12, and 18in deep. That’s where I keep your letters, and the pens and paper to write with. And my books. Which reminds me, I have a story to share about that. Why hadn’t it occurred to me until now? It’ll wait for another time. My eyelids can’t stay open much longer. That’s all right though. Whenever they’re closed I see your blue eyes and that beautiful smile I sure do miss.

  Yours,

  Jerald Cocker

  M y Dearest May,

  I’ve climbed into my bunk for some shut eye, excited to write more than ever on account of this story I know you’ll enjoy. Do you remember I mentioned something about my books? Well, for quite some time I’ve been reading Crime and Punishment. The night I met you, Hank interrupted a chapter and I hadn’t picked it up again until I unpacked my bag when I climbed aboard this new vessel.

  Wouldn’t you know it, my kid brother played a fast one and removed my copy, replacing it with our mother’s book — Gone With The Wind. Can you picture it? A sailor reading a book like that! Sock his arm when you see him next, would ya? But do me a favor and don’t tell him this next part.

  Soon as I got aboard I had to report to duty, get introduced to the crew and all. The new guy on board. I stashed the book in my bag, which I then shoved in my cubby. I was in an awful mood on account of I really wanted to finish my book, and now I was stuck with this one I couldn’t ever open, nor would want to. Who knows how long it would be before we docked and having access to a book shop didn’t seem likely.

  While I was with the Captain, a torpedoman with a screwy sense of humor thought it would be funny to dig around my things, see, and when I came back, what did I find? Everyone having a go at me. I kept my cool, leaned against the bunk like they didn’t bother me. I explained my brother’s prank, and they thought so much of it they laughed even harder than they had at thinking it was my book. They decided to lay off.

  Since I had nothing to read, guess what I read? Not a bad book at all. And get this, since the boys here had been together so long, they’d passed around all of the books they had. Guess what’s making the rounds now? But don’t tell Hank. It’ll give me another thing to look forward to when this war is over. That and seeing you again. Our picnic under the oak tree is a memory that doesn’t seem to wear out. I can only hope you feel the same. I miss you, May.

  Yours,

  Jerald Cocker

  M y Dearest May,

  We had quite a tussle at sea. That’s putting it mildly. But I don’t want to use the words we sailors use, with you. The Conning was ruptured and we had to bl
ow negative for the first time in my career.

  The Con — that’s what we call it — is directly above the planes room, where I sit, and it’s water tight. Inside is where the Captain sits, and from there he gives us orders. This isn’t classified information — every sub has a Con, as well as The Negative. What’s The Negative? That’s a water tank of equal volume to The Con. If anything happens to The Con, we blow the water out of The Negative, to maintain the sub’s balance.

  Because water seeps in when it’s ruptured, understand? So The Negative lets water out to compensate. If it didn’t, we’d sink.

  With the rupture, we lost our Officer of the Deck plus two good men. Our Captain was eating his dinner when it happened, and is still with us on account of that. He kept his head, as he always does, and ordered the torpedomen to blow that U-Boat to smithereens. They did. I hope someday someone invents a torpedo that chases down the bastards.

  I am fixing to mail these to you now that we’ve docked for repairs. I’ve counted twenty-two letters including the one I’m writing now. Not bad, I’d say. I hope they find you soon. It’s the end of November. Most likely these will reach you sometime in December. I sure wish I could be there to celebrate Christmas with you, Ma, Pops, and my dumb brother. If my package is slow to arrive, then perhaps it’s 1945 when you’re reading this, and I can only say one thing about that — I hope you’re still waiting for me.

  Next time you’re out with the gang, raise a malt in my name, and don’t let them beat you just because I’m not there. I want to be there when you sing on that booth.

  Yours,

  Jerald Cocker

  32

  MAY

  FEBRUARY 1945

  T he telephone rings and since Mother is cooking dinner, I rush to answer, shouting, “I’ll get it!”

  “If it’s Helen, tell her I’ll ring her back.”

  “Alright.“ I lift the mouthpiece from its cradle. “Kearns residence.”

  Gertie is on the other line. “Oh May! Come quick!”

  My throat goes dry and my heart stops beating. She knows something has happened to Jerald. Hank must’ve told her, and she knew to call me straight off.

  I barely get out, “What is it?”

  It sounds like she’s in tears. “Meet me at the malt shop!”

  “Gertie, is it Jerald? Please tell me! I beg you!”

  “It’s not Jerald, it’s Hank! He’s dropped out and enlisted!”

  “I’ll be right there!”

  I hang up so quick it topples. Righting the telephone, I shout, “I’ll be back before dinner!”

  “Where are you going?”

  “Hank enlisted in the Navy!”

  As I race to the door, she calls out after me, “What’s the fuss about? That’s what he was planning on.”

  “Not this soon! He’s dropped out of high school!”

  “Oh dear! Poor Frances!”

  “Can I have money for a malt?”

  “And ruin your appetite? I think not.”

  I run to the kitchen. “Gertie will need one! This truly is a dire situation!”

  Stirring mashed potatoes in a bowl on her hip, she sighs, “You’ll find a quarter in the change pocket of my handbag.”

  I run to plant a quick kiss on her cheek. “Thank you!”

  While I dig out the coin she mumbles, “Both her boys in this dreadful war. I would be worried sick. May, you watch the clock now! Don’t make us come get you!”

  I rush outside, pick my bike off the lawn, and peddle like wild. At an intersection two blocks away I nearly get hit by a car, the horn telling me I ought to be more careful next time.

  A row of bikes left outside gets a new friend as I race in to see Gertie alone in a booth, staring at the salt shaker. As I slide across from her, she lifts her head, not her spirits. “I didn’t even get a chance to say goodbye.”

  “Didn’t he see you before he left?”

  She shakes her head a little. “He phoned me from the Naval base in Norfolk. He’s already begun training to be a pilot! His parents didn’t know until he was there and there’s nothing they can do!”

  “How is that possible?!”

  “I don’t talk to him every night, you know that! They were in D.C.! The Battle of the Bulge went on for over a month. Hank said tensions are high in Washington. They must have had their minds full! I knew he was unhappy. That horrid battle was all he talked about, and when it ended, well, he was biding his time until his birthday!” She covers her face, telling me through her fingers, “He couldn’t sit in a classroom a day longer while everyone in his family was doing their part!”

  I reach across the table and clasp her arm. “That was awfully noble of him, Gert. Aren’t you proud?”

  Muffled comes the answer, “I’m so proud I could bust!” She drops her hands, face red as a tomato too long on the vine. “But I didn’t get a chance to say goodbye! How could he do that to me?!”

  “He was afraid you would talk him out of it,” I gently explain. “Perhaps seeing how sad you were would’ve made him want to stay.”

  She sniffles, lungs heaving. “You really think so?”

  “Well sure, he called you, didn’t he? If Hank didn’t care, he would’ve just up and vanished without a word!”

  She wipes her nose with the back of her hand. “That’s true!”

  “Of course it is. Hank cares very much about you. Everyone knows it.”

  “But he never said we were going steady, like you did with Jerald.”

  I smile at her silliness. “He was here with you, and you were the only girl he ever spent time with on the weekends. Suppose we hadn’t said we were steady, and I met a fella while he was at sea. And remember, I’m the one who said it first!”

  Ethel is reluctant to take our order. She and I don’t think highly of each other to this day. But she’s the only waitress here at the moment. Not much choice there. “Are you sharing a malt again?”

  “No, we’ll have two.”

  I show Gertie the quarter and her ears perk up. “Where’d you get that?”

  “Mother gave it to me.”

  “We could have five soda pops with a whole quarter!”

  I lean closer. “How about we get two malts and leave sourpuss a huge tip just for fun?” Ethel scowls at me, and walks off. I shrug to Gertie, “What’s she upset for? Doesn’t she like tips?”

  “May, you are bad!”

  “Got your smile back, didn’t I? That’s worth every nickel in the whole world put together.”

  Peter, Lily, Sable, and Marvin run in, one after the other to pile into the booth with us. Peter makes like Hank did, sitting on the back as he asks, “Hey, did you hear? Hank joined the Navy!”

  Gertie and I look at each other, and she asks, “How did you find that out?”

  “So you knew? Why, he just phoned. Say ten minutes ago. I drove right over to Sable’s and got the girls.”

  Marvin explains, “I was already there.”

  My eyebrows rise. “Oh, you were, were you?”

  Sable sticks her tongue out at me as Peter asks Gertie, “How did you find out?”

  Her shoulders proudly square as she answers, “He called me first, of course. How do you think I know?”

  They dive into our friend’s bold decision, dissecting how he could have accomplished such a feat — did he thumb for rides?! — and while they do, I’m smiling at Gertie, pleased that she’s confident of her place in Hank’s brave heart.

  33

  MAY

  M other and I drive to the Cocker residence in our best dresses. “What if she isn’t home?” I nervously ask.

  “I don’t know if she’s home this very minute, but they are back from Washington, that I’m sure of.”

  She turns the wheel.

  “How do you know that?”

  “I happened to drive by on my way home from the store last night.”

  Mother admires Frances Cocker very much. I saw it in her manner on the warm autumn day they met at chu
rch, and how she told the story of riding next to Mrs. Cocker in our pickup truck more than once when her friends stopped by. Frances is a charming woman with an impressive sense of style, who makes everyone around her feel comfortable.

  Mother expected the status of the Cocker family to show in their attitudes, and was delighted she was wrong.

  For today’s visit, much care was put into selecting the correct handbag and matching hat. Those pearls are purely for special occasions.

  I am also guilty of looking my absolute best in the hopes that Jerald’s mother finds me appealing. I care so very much for her son, and it would mean the world to me if she thought us a good match.

  Mother parks the pickup behind the car he and I soaked at our picnic, her hand fluttering to the ignition as I stare at the memory.

  An embarrassed smile tugs up her cheeks. “Don’t know why I’m so nervous!” She takes a deep breath, and we open our doors at the same time, hopping onto solid ground.

  Mother slides her fresh rhubarb pie from where it rested on a towel to prevent slippage. Looking in the mirror, she touches her curls, and gives the door a swing of her hip.

  Side-by-side we walk up the beautifully landscaped path, in awe of their home. I lift an iron knocker of a lion’s face to give three gentle raps, alerting our arrival.

  Unsolicited arrival.

  We should’ve called.

  Where are our manners?

  Perhaps we better turn around.

  If nobody saw us, it’s not too late.

  The door swings open, Jerald’s mother surprised but seemingly relieved to see us, despite her frown. “Mrs. Kearns, and lovely May! Do come in! Is that a pie? Aren’t you kind. Between you and I, I could eat three right now. Come in! Come in!”

  We walk into an enormous foyer under a chandelier as big as our washroom. “I hope you don’t mind. I baked you rhubarb when I heard the news.”

  The two mothers stare at each other.

  Mrs. Cocker quite explodes with gratitude. “So you’ve heard! My baby ran off and joined the war! I must declare that I have never been more shocked by anything in all my years! Archie, be a dear and take their coats, thank you. I have a fire burning in the drawing room. You must join me for a sherry as well as a slice of that glorious rhubarb pie. Archie, will you please take that wonderful gift to Margot and tell her to make the slices large? Thank you, thank you! Come, come! This way!”