“It’s very nice to meet you,” Daniel said, tugging my hands almost imperceptibly, sensing my inclination to bolt. He seemed genuinely interested. “Would you like to dance?”
I pulled my hands away and widened the distance between us.
“I-I don’t think so,” I said, starting to turn away. Part of me was afraid he’d remember. The other part was afraid he wouldn’t.
“Come on, I promise I won’t step on your toes. I was considered quite a good jitterbugger in my day.” The best, I thought.
When I didn’t object again, he pulled me onto the dance floor and we came together like we’d been dancing this way forever. We picked up the old familiar rhythm right away and didn’t miss a beat. First we danced to a jitterbug medley, then to Patty Andrews singing, “I Can Dream, Can’t I.” Those songs were followed by some GI Jive, an Ellington medley, a Goodman instrumental jitterbug, a tribute to Harry James. The words to the songs brought back all the old familiar places. “I’ll Be Seeing You.” “I’ll Never Smile Again.” “You Made Me Love You.” “They Say That Falling in Love is Wonderful.” “Apple Blossom Time.” It was so easy to go back to the moment when Daniel and I had first danced together.
If we continued to dance so smoothly and comfortably he would surely recognize me. We had spent months in each other’s arms on the dance floor, dancing to some of these same songs. I faked some missteps and apologized, mumbling something about my feet bothering me, but then I couldn’t help getting into the spirit of the music. I had come here determined NOT to have a good time. I was fighting it, but—
“Don’t worry,” he assured. “I’m a strong leader.”
I tripped again, but after another misstep or two I let myself be carried away. We went into a couple of routines. It was like riding a bicycle. It all came flooding back.
“You’ve been holding out on me. You’re good.”
“Rusty, I’m afraid,” I smiled shyly. “Stan, my husband, wasn’t much of a dancer.”
“Neither was my Natalie,” he said.
The pressure of his hand around my waist and at my shoulder made me blush. It was good to feel a man’s arms around me again. My response to him hadn’t changed. Suddenly I was nineteen and in love again. How could he not sense who I was? After everything we had meant to each other. I had changed on the outside, but inside I was still that same naïve girl who had fallen desperately in love with a man who went off to Europe and never wrote. Not even one letter.
It wasn’t hard to remember the last time I’d seen him. We’d been slow dancing to “I Don’t Want to Set the World on Fire.” How did the rest of the song go? Something about starting a flame in our hearts… And suddenly we were on fire and needed to get closer. It had been building for months. The time spent in his arms, the stolen kisses, the caresses, both of us wanting, needing, longing for more. So he had danced me out to my car.
It was just beginning to rain. The windows were fogged up, so we switched on the radio, climbed into the back seat, alone in our own little world, and I saw only him. Knowing it would be our last night together for years, maybe, we could hardly keep our hands off each other. It was the first time for both of us. Each time he touched me in places we’d never touched before, he sent out sparks. Together we had exploded like fireworks on the Fourth of July.
“I’m leaving in the morning,” he said, as if that wasn’t the only thing in the world I could think about.
“I know.”
“I don’t want to leave you,” he whispered.
“I don’t want you to leave.”
“I want us to get married as soon as I get back,” he said, as we stared into the dark window and relaxed in each other’s arms. “Would you like that?”
“Oh, Daniel, yes, I’d love to marry you.”
I still remembered his expression, like he couldn’t believe I’d said yes. Even in the darkness I could see he was beaming.
“I can’t afford—I don’t have a ring to give you right now.”
“That doesn’t matter,” I said. “The only thing that matters is that you love me.”
“You know I love you. I’ve never said that to anyone before. Do you love me?”
“Yes. More than anything.”
“I think I fell in love with you the moment we danced our first dance.”
“I knew you were the one as soon as I saw you in your uniform.”
“Everyone in the room was in uniform,” Daniel laughed.
“You were different,” I’d said. “When I looked into your eyes, the others fell away.”
“All I could see was you,” he echoed.
Afterward, I drove him to my house, fixed my lipstick, straightened my dress and made myself look presentable, eager to share our good news with my mother. But nothing could have prepared me for her reaction. When we opened the door, my mother was already standing there with her arms folded.
“Where have you been?” she accused. “It’s after midnight.”
“It’s all my fault, Mrs. Lewis,” Daniel said. “I’m shipping out tomorrow. We had a lot to talk about. I asked Dorothy to marry me tonight and she said yes. I know I’m the luckiest man alive, and we wanted you to be the first to know.”
My mother stood there as large as a barn, as stern and stubborn as a billy goat, and as immovable as a troll.
“I can see that you’ve been doing more than talking,” she said, dripping with sarcasm. “You want to marry my daughter? I don’t care much for you. From what I’ve seen, you have nothing to offer her. My daughter could do a lot better. I came to this country as an immigrant, with nothing. I want better for my daughter.”
“Mother,” I pleaded. “That’s rude.”
“We love each other, Mrs. Lewis,” said Daniel, refusing to take offense. “I have some money saved and I intend to send Dorothy all my pay. And when I get back...”
“When you get back, if you get back, she won’t be here.”
“How can you talk to him like that?” I screamed.
“Go upstairs, young lady.”
“No, I won’t. He’s leaving tomorrow. It’s raining outside. I’m going to drive him home.” And I could tell my mother was thinking, “You see, he doesn’t even have a car.” I didn’t care. I was determined to spend every last moment I could with him.
“As long as you’re living under my roof, you’ll follow my orders.”
“No, Mother,” I said recklessly and pulled Daniel back onto the front steps. I knew I would suffer for the insubordination later. But I didn’t care. The rain was pelting us as we raced to my car. I looked back. My mother’s face was bloated in the front porch light and her fists were raised in indignation.
“Daniel,” I said, launching myself into his arms and kissing him when we made it safely to the car. “What are we going to do?”
“Sweetheart, I’m sorry your mother feels the way she does, but I don’t intend to let that stop us. She may be stubborn, but I’m twice as stubborn. I’ll write to you every day and think of you every minute, and when I get back we will be together.” He had sounded so confident, so sure.
I drove to his house, tears streaming from my eyes. Fog was enveloping the city. I pulled the car up in front of his driveway. It wasn’t a house, really, just a space above a radiator shop. But I didn’t care where he lived or how he lived or what he had or didn’t have.
“Daniel, don’t leave me. Please, not yet.” I couldn’t bear to let him go. He held me tight in his strong arms and kissed me. I remember being almost numb from the cold and the rain, or maybe it was because I knew in a short time I would be utterly alone.
“Hush, sweetheart. I won’t leave you. We can stay here all night. Until morning, if you’d like.”
We came together again, desperately, and finally when the light broke he pried me gently from his arms.
“Always remember how much I love you. Please wait for me.”
I never saw him again, until tonight. A few months later, when I showed signs of being p
regnant, my mother was furious and full of I-told-you-so’s. She sold our house and moved my younger sister Helene and me to Atlanta, where she had relatives. She left no forwarding address.
She passed me off as a young war widow, and to this day I’d never had the courage to tell Donny the truth about his father. I didn’t have the nerve to tell him there was no marriage and there were no love letters. That his father had gone off to war and forgotten all about me. That I was just another girl sweet-talked into “bed” by a smooth-talking soldier creating a false sense of urgency with the story that he might never come home again. It was the oldest line in the book, and I had fallen for it. What a fool. I’d thought Daniel was different.
But the revised scenario I’d created in my head wasn’t exactly correct. Daniel had been the hesitant one when it came to making love.
“I don’t think we should take any chances, since I’m leaving tomorrow,” he had said, gathering me into his arms. “We’ll have plenty of time to be together like this when I get back. Don’t think I don’t want to, baby, but...”
“No, Daniel, no. I don’t want to wait.”
“Once I—once we—then you’re mine forever,” he spoke softly, his green eyes fixed on mine, shining like a cat’s in the dark.
“I’m already yours,” I whispered, loving the romantic sentiment and the riskiness of it all.
In the end, our emotions and our desperate need for each other had overwhelmed us and we’d lost control and all sense of propriety. But I had instigated our spiral toward disaster.
When the disc jockey in the Millennium Gardens clubhouse began to play “In the Mood,” the tempo changed and I was jerked out of the past.
The dance after that was a slow one, and Daniel must have missed his wife or the touch of a woman, because he was holding me close, and not casually close.
“Let’s take a break and rest for a while,” I suggested, breathless, purposely separating myself from the warmth of his embrace. “I want you to meet my daughter, Honey, but she’s been out on the dance floor all evening.”
We walked out onto the balcony overlooking the clubhouse lobby, but we could still hear the strains of music in the background. I looked down. There was Max, all dressed up in his tuxedo and fast asleep on the couch in an upright position. He’d gone to all this effort and then been too tired to make it upstairs to the dance. I’d promised him a dance, too. Poor, sweet, vulnerable Max. There were other people asleep on the chairs, people who weren’t dressed for the dance.
Many of the seniors hung out at the clubhouse all day so they didn’t have to run their air conditioning. And some of them even bathed every day at the clubhouse so their own showers wouldn’t mildew and they wouldn’t waste water.
“My sister said you just lost your wife,” I began, looking up at Daniel.
“Yes, I miss her very much. She told me about your husband. I’m sorry. I haven’t held a woman in my arms for a long time. I hope I haven’t overstepped.”
“No,” I said. With that permission, he took my hand and gazed into my eyes. And, okay, I couldn’t look away from those beautiful green eyes or that handsome face any more than I could all those years ago. His hands rubbed against my wedding ring and he gave me a questioning look.
“I-I’m not ready t-to…” I stuttered defensively.
“I understand,” he said, gently pressing my ring finger against the palm of my hand and holding my hand tightly in his.
“I just took mine off tonight, as a matter of fact,” Daniel admitted sheepishly.
We talked for more than an hour, danced some more, and as close as he held me, he never suspected a thing about our past. But I could still feel the pull between us, the same magic, as if it were yesterday.
“Can I walk you home?” he offered. “It’s a nice night. The moon is full. Corny, I know, but...”
It was exactly the right thing to say. I was used to corny. But I wasn’t prepared to be alone with him. It felt good. Too good. It felt right, but...
“Well, my sister and my daughter...”
“I’m not going to kidnap you. I’m sure they’ll understand. Here comes Helene now.”
“I’ll see that she gets home,” Daniel promised Helene as she walked up.
“But you haven’t even met Honey,” I protested.
“If she’s as good-looking as her mother, I can’t wait to make her acquaintance. But as you said, she hasn’t been off the dance floor all evening. So I’ll probably never get the opportunity to meet her here. We’ll have plenty of time for that later.”
His words hinted of the future. The future he’d once promised, that had never come to pass.
Helene smiled knowingly, her eyes twinkling.
We walked home, hand in hand. He bumped up against me “accidentally” and I didn’t move away. It was a cool night, and Daniel wrapped his jacket around my shoulders.
When we got to my door, I hesitated.
“Aren’t you going to invite me in?” he asked.
I twisted my hands in front of me, and he stilled them with his own.
“Okay, I guess it would be all right,” I said, unlocking the door. Someone had taped another red flyer to my door. Another one of those irritating Seniors Against Sin notices warning me to “Stop Sinning Now.” I crushed it and threw it in the trash can.
“What is that?” Daniel asked.
“Oh, nothing,” I said, shrugging. “Just some junk mail. Why don’t I fix us some coffee,” I suggested, anxious to have something to occupy my hands. What I really wanted to do was touch his face and assure myself that I was not imagining him. That this was not a dream.
“Coffee sounds great. I’d like that.”
Things were beginning to heat up, and not just the coffee. Something was beginning to percolate in the pit of my stomach.
Chapter Eight: Déjà vu
Looking around the dark room, I experienced a feeling of déjà vu. It sure took me back. Someone in this house was obsessed with World War II. A serious collector. I picked up one of the books on the coffee table. The Mighty Men of the 381st: Heroes All. I had some of these same books at home.
Then I looked at the picture on the sideboard. It was pretty fuzzy, but it could have been a picture of me. Any one of us, I guess. Back then, all soldiers looked alike—young, innocent, and blindly patriotic. The man in the picture wore a busted-up hat like officers wore back then, and wings. I remembered taking the cardboard out of my own hat and mashing it down, trying to impress the girls. One girl in particular. But I hadn’t been an officer, then. And I’d lost my wings when I washed out of flying school.
Next to the soldier’s picture I saw a boy, a boy who looked a lot like my own son. The low light must be playing tricks on me.
At that moment, Dee Dee came out of the kitchen carrying a tray and I couldn’t see anything else but her. God, she was a beautiful woman. She was breathtaking, the kind of woman who defied time and age. What was it about her? She looked and felt oddly familiar, like someone I could come home to. I had felt that way holding her on the dance floor. When she was in my arms, it was as if we were transported back in time. She looked a lot like the girl I used to love. It must have been the music and the mood, and probably a lot of me wanting her to look like the girl I remembered. The lights playing tricks again.
“Dee Dee?” I asked. I liked saying her name. “Is that your husband?” I pointed to the picture on the sideboard.
“M-my first husband,” she stammered, flustered, accidentally knocking the picture face down onto the lace runner. “He was killed in a bombing mission during World War II.”
“Was he a pilot?” I asked, and she looked at me blankly. Bad memories?
“No, not a pilot, but he was part of the flight crew.”
“Maybe I knew him. I flew Diamond Ls, B-17s, with the 381st Bomber Group.”
“I’-I’m sure you didn’t know him.”
“Maybe not. I was an engineer with the 533rd Bomb Squadron, Eighth Air Force. Wa
s your husband based in the European Theatre?”
“Yes, but I—well, I didn’t know much about what he did, and then he—I mean the Army Air Corps notified me that he had died. And so I don’t think you knew him. It was a big war.”
“In the simplest terms, yes.” I laughed. “It certainly was that. You interested in World War II?”
“Not me. My son. He never knew his father, so—”
“This is your son?”
“Yes. My son Donny.”
“He looks just like his father.” Dee Dee jumped.
“I don’t make you nervous, do I? It’s just that he looks so familiar.”
She exhaled deeply and turned pale.
“M-my son used to play baseball for the Miami Kingfishers.”
“Wait a minute. Palladino. Not Donny Palladino? The Slugger? He’s your son?”
She nodded. “You’ve heard of him?”
“Sure, who hasn’t? My son grew up on my stories about the war. He’s sick of hearing me talk about it. But if your son is interested, I still have my bomber jacket, with the hash marks on the sleeve, the stripes, battle stars, ribbons, some air medals, a Distinguished Flying Cross. It’s pretty well preserved. He might want to see it. I’d love to show him. It’s still in my closet.”
Dee Dee blanched.
“Did I say something wrong? Are you okay?”
“I’m fine,” Dee Dee answered, but I could see that she wasn’t. I waited until she had regained some color in her cheeks.
“Well, the offer stands. And if you wanted to—”
“See your etchings?” Dee Dee smiled, recovering.
“Well, there now,” I said, raising my hand to caress the curve of her cheek. “You’re even more beautiful when you smile. I’ve been waiting to see your smile all night. It was worth the wait, by the way.”
Dee Dee pulled away nervously.
“Coffee’s almost ready, I think.”
Significant Others Page 9
