1941 – May – First Anniversary (Courtship)
1942 - May – Second Anniversary (Courtship)
1942 – November 11 – ENGAGED (After 2 ½ years)
Under the date she had written a poem. The juvenile rhyme reminded me of ones I had written to my first girlfriend. I would say, it is in the style of all young lovers, over all generations.
I kept staring at the page. Wait! The hearts have initials. R.S. and B.C. Ah-ha, a clue. R.S. is obviously Ray Speck. B.C is Bet. Her last name begins with a C. I went over a list of surnames in my head. Campbell, Cook, Connors, Cornelius? The last one made my face wrinkle up. It could be anything, but it was a start.
I put the book down, feeling proud of myself and went to the kitchen to feed Moonshadow.
My phone pinged. It was a text from Megan. What is she doing up this early?
“Hey, I was thinking of coming over with some good bagels. Interested?”
Wow, she was needy. Early morning bagels seemed like a girlfriend thing to do. We’ve only had three dates and I’m not sure last night counted.
“Sure.” I texted back.
“Good, I have something for you. See you in a few.”
I gave Moonshadow his dry food and checked his water. I then made a full pot of coffee to go with Megan’s bagels and sat down to look at the scrapbook again. I found myself fantasizing it was Bet coming over instead of Megan. They just don’t make women like that anymore. I looked at one picture of her perched on a 1940’s car, showing off her legs. She had written some description of how she was called the Legs Champion in her day. I had to look up the word she had in quotes on Bing translator. She used the Italian word for champion. Was she Italian? Another clue, perhaps…
I swear, the girl must text from my building’s lobby. Megan had arrived already.
“Hi,” I said after buzzing her in and waiting for her to climb the three flights of stairs.
“Morning,” she gave me a hug. “Is something wrong? You look pissed off.”
“No, I’m just not awake yet. I made coffee.”
She handed me the bag of bagels. “You look good in your robe.”
The bagels smelled wonderful. They were still warm in the bag.
“I also bought cream cheese and stopped for butter, in case that’s what you like.”
“Thanks,” I said. “Come on into the kitchen.”
I took out a good sharp knife and sliced a sesame seed bagel for myself and one for Megan. She wanted cinnamon raisin.
“Good coffee,” she said. “Look, I hope you don’t mind my dropping by like this. I like you, Kenny. That is, when you let your guard down.”
“I have a guard?”
She laughed. “A big one. Maybe I like a challenge. You seem to be a hard nut to crack.”
“What do you mean?” I asked, feeling a little affronted.
“We’ve been together three times, today makes four…and you haven’t even kissed me yet. What…don’t I do it for you?”
“No I….I mean… you’re hot. I don’t know, maybe I’m still getting over my mom’s death.” I grabbed her hand and kissed it. “There, now you’ve been kissed.” I smiled.
“I don’t think so, bathrobe boy, but I’ll let it go for now.”
We adjourned to the living room with our coffees.
“You said you had something for me,” I inquired.
“I do,” she reached into her bag and brought out a couple of high-end photo albums. “These are for your mom’s loose pictures.”
“Wow, that’s very thoughtful of you. Thanks.”
“No problem,” she said.
“I have something else, too. I bought this last year and it works great, but I only used it once.” She reached back into her bag and pulled out a VuPoint hand-held photo scanner. “I thought maybe you would like to scan in some pictures or maybe that scrapbook.”
Her gifts actually made me feel emotional. I reached over and gave her a sustained hug. I wanted to kiss her at that moment, but felt like the timing would have made it seem insincere.
I stifled my feelings, but I knew she saw the emotion. “Speaking of the scrapbook, I am still obsessed with it. I want to know how and where my mom’s uncle died and I really want to know what became of Bet after his death.” I opened the book.
“This is fun, what do you know so far?” She asked.
“Not much more than you already know. His name is Raymond Speck, he was my mom’s uncle and he died in World War II. Her name is Bet…oh and I found out her last name begins with a C. She also might be Italian. When he died, Ray was in his twenties, just like me. How old do you think she is?”
Megan scooted closer and looked at a picture of Bet from the scrapbook on my lap. “She could be in her twenties…or maybe younger. It’s hard to tell with old photos of people. She’s pretty.”
“I’ll say,” I exclaimed.
“Are you in love with her, Kenny?”
“What? How could I be in love with a person from 1943? I am a little obsessed with her. I love her apparent zest for life, at least in the three years this scrapbook covers. It just makes me a little crazy to think how it might have changed after my great-uncle died.”
Megan smiled at me.
“What?” I asked.
“Oh, nothing, it’s just that you have a deep sensitive side. I like that.”
“Yeah, well, I feel silly.”
“You shouldn’t,” she answered. “Here they are, young and just starting out in life and a war separates them. I’m sure she still had hopes he would serve his time and come back to her. It happened over and over, for so many women, didn’t it?”
“You do understand,” I said.
She looked as I turned the page. I stopped on one where they were with one of his other brothers, Vernon, along with his wife and daughter. I sort of knew them. I met mom’s Uncle Vernon before he died and my mom talked about them all the time. She became good friends with his second wife.
“She wrote that the little girl’s name is Jean,” Megan said. “Maybe she’s still alive.”
“I don’t know, just a second.” I went to get my mom’s old phone directory. “Her name would have been Speck, too, but she was married. I don’t know if she is alive. She would be around eighty. Wait, I think this is her, Jean Czechowski. Yep, she has Speck in parenthesis. I wonder.”
Megan held her phone. “I looked her up and it says here that she is 79 and living here in Chicago. Call her.”
“Well, the number matches my mom’s phone book, but I swear I think my mom told me she died last year.”
“There’s only one way to find out,” she replied.
I dialed the number and a woman’s voice answered. I was surprised she picked up in this day of call screening with Caller ID. I never answer if I don’t know who is calling.
“Hello,” came the voice.
“Is this Jean Czechowski?”
“Yes, it is. Who’s calling please?”
“Hi, this might seem weird, but I believe we are relatives,” I said.
“Are you related to Betty Jo Turner?” she asked. “I saw the name Turner come up on my TV. My daughters have the Caller ID hooked up that way.”
“Betty Jo was my mom.” I was surprised to hear someone still refer to her as Betty Jo. She officially went by Betty J. Turner.
I asked Jean about her Uncle Raymond and the only thing she remembered about him was that he was a handsome man. More-so than her Uncle James. When I asked about the woman, Bet, she remembered her face and that she was nice, but nothing else.
I was really happy to talk to Jean…glad she was still alive. I remembered her as a child and I liked her. We reminisced for a while and talked about getting together. I thought that would be nice. She also told me she would go through an old box of pictures and letters to see if she could uncover any more info.
But then she told me something that surprised me. She said there had been a rumor throughout the family that Uncle Raymond went overs
eas, met a girl and never came back. I had never heard this rumor. My mom never told that story. She said he died in the war. Jean is telling me he may not have died. She made the comment, “You know how our West Virginia hillbilly family is.” The thought that he may have left his wonderful fiancée Bet didn’t settle right with me.
Megan could see I was distraught when I got off the phone with Aunt Jean. I updated her.
“Meg, I have to find out. Now it’s more important than ever.”
She came over and hugged me, and then made a bee-line over to my laptop. Megan was pretty good at internet searches. She could also type faster than I’d ever seen. Her Bing searches did give her a couple of leads on the name, Raymond Speck. One said he died in Ohio in 1997, but we had no way of knowing if this was the same Raymond or not.
I opened the scrapbook and looked at the picture of Ray and Bet showing off the engagement ring. He looked so proud and happy. I know that men went overseas and fell in love all the time. If that’s the case, why would he be such a coward about it? Looking at his face, I just wouldn’t let myself believe it. I believed that once you had the love of someone like Bet, you could never give her up. But I had to find out the truth. It was now my mission.
CHAPTER FOUR
Chicago, September, 1940
Ray and Bet had a couple more dates before Ray went back to West Virginia. He said he planned on moving back to Chicago to live with James and Harriet on a semi-permanent basis. Bet wasn’t sure if he would come back or not. She busied herself with school and taking care of her nearly six month pregnant mom, who was still working down at the beauty salon. Frieda was having a rough time because she had discovered her husband’s womanizing and decided to divorce him.
Bet was also very active in school, she was on the Gage High School honor society and the Owls Skating Club. She and her school chum, Gloria Ambroz, hung out when they could and loved to go roller skating. They could always count on being asked to skate by a few good-looking boys. Two such boys were her classmates, Walter Bruckner and John Belluomini. Bet had innocent dates with both of them. Walter was a jock and basketball player. He was also the sports editor. She liked him, but discovered she liked John’s intellect even more. His clubs included chemistry, French and library staff. He was also very tall and handsome. Bet noticed she always went for tall thin guys. John also wore glasses and had the look of a young professor.
Her mom, Frieda, didn’t like either one, though.
“Betty, that nice young man, Raymond, telephoned while you were out. You know, Harriet’s brother in-law.”
“He did?” Exclaimed Bet. “Awwww heck, I missed him.”
“Can you phone him back?” Frieda asked.
“Naw, he probably used a pay phone,” Bet answered. “He was supposed to be staying with his sister, Tess. He told me they don’t have a phone. Heck, they use outhouses and brush their teeth over the porch rail.”
“I remember what it was like in Minden,” said Frieda. “Don’t forget, Harriet and I lived there for about three years. That’s why your father and I moved to Chicago. Betty, you should stay home more; he said he would phone back.”
“Aw heck!” Betty repeated. As much as she enjoyed John and Walter’s company, there was something special about Ray. He had a sweet disposition and she liked the way he looked at her. With Walter, she felt like she was just someone to be on his arm during prep rallies or basketball games. John was interested in her intellect, but never noticed how she was dressed or when she had her hair styled. This was a bonus of having her mom own a beauty salon. She got her hair done regularly. But Ray had a way of making her not only feel smart, but as if she was the prettiest girl in Chicago. She found she really missed him.
The next night Ray did call back. Bet ran down the long hallway to the telephone. She dropped the heavy black hand-piece as she attempted to pick it up. “Hold on, I’m here, I just dropped you,” she yelled. When she retrieved it, she casually answered with a demure, “Hello!”
“Hiya, kid, is that you? Can you hear me okay?”
“Yes, I hear you fine, who’s calling please?”
“Um, it’s me, Ray.”
“I’m just kidding with you, Ray. I’d know your voice and accent anywhere. How are you?”
“I’m hunky dory,” he answered. “Sorry I missed you last night. Where were you?”
Bet was taken back by the bold question. “Didn’t my mom tell you?”
“No, she just said you were out,” he answered.
”I had a date,” she said. Bet believed in honesty. “But I’m sorry I missed your call.”
There was an uncomfortable silence.
“Ray, are you still there?”
“Yeah, I’m here. I didn’t know you were seeing other fellas.”
“Well, we never talked about it, or said anything otherwise,” she replied.
“I guess that’s true,” he answered, sadly. “Anyway, my time is almost up and I called to tell you that I’m coming back to Chicago next week. I should be there for your birthday.”
“You remember when my birthday is?” she asked.
“Sure, it’s September 23rd, near the first day of autumn.”
“Very good,” she said.
“Not really, I wrote it down as soon as I could get ahold of a pencil and paper.”
Bet laughed. “I’m looking forward to seeing you again.”
“Really?” he asked. “You mean, I still have a reason for coming back?”
“Of course. I don’t know if you know this, but I really like you, Raymond Speck.”
“Hot dog!” he exclaimed.
Bet then heard the operator saying his three minutes were up and to deposit another thirty five cents.
“Well, Bet, I don’t have any more change. I have to go, bye now.”
“Bye, Ray.”
“Hey Bet, I -”…..the phone cut off.
Bet felt good when she hung up the phone. She knew Ray had been hurt by her going out on dates; somehow she would let him know that he was special to her. But when he left, she had no idea when or if he would ever return, so she had to live her life in the meantime.
Her mom gave her money to buy some new clothes and styled her hair in a more grown up fashion.
Ray got back the following week on September 21st. The first thing he did was borrow James’ car to pick up Bet. He looked surprised, yet pleased when she threw her arms around him. He took her to a picture show to see My Favorite Wife with Cary Grant and Irene Dunn. She liked it.
Bet’s birthday was Monday, so Ray surprised her and picked her up from school. He had arranged to have her little brother, Don, go to Aunt Harriet’s for the evening. Frieda even closed the salon early. He took them both to Berghoff’s for a fine German dinner. Frieda even had a beer. It was a nice evening and Bet was thrilled that he would include her mom.
After dinner, he dropped Frieda off at the apartment and took Bet for a walk around the neighborhood. Bet noticed Ray had a little more confidence. He even remembered to hold her hand. It made her feel wanted.
“Bet, I’ve been meaning to talk to you about something,” he began, “it’s about you seeing other fellas.”
“What about it?” she said coyly.
“Well, I wish you wouldn’t, that’s all.”
“Well, if it makes you feel any better, I haven’t since the night you called,” she answered.
“Well, that’s good, but you didn’t say you wouldn’t again,” he replied.
“Look, hon, I’m glad we’re talking about this,” she started. “I wanted you to know how much I like you and how special you are to me. There’s nothing serious going on with those other boys. Just innocent dates. They’re really nothing more than school mates and chums. Ray, do you like to skate…or dance?”
“Not really, I’ve tried to skate, but my behind always seems to find the floor, and I can’t dance.”
“See, I like to do those things, so I can’t promise I won’t go out with friends aga
in. But when I’m with you, I like to do more grown up and sophisticated things like fancy restaurants and theaters. Ray, I’m only fourteen. I know I seem older and sometimes I feel older, but even in my class, I’m the youngest. I have to live my age a little, or I’ll end up resenting having missed it. Do you understand?”
“I reckon,” he replied. “But I just get a little jealous, that’s all.”
“Darling, no matter who I am out with, it doesn’t matter, because you are special to me and you always will be…right here in my heart. Besides, you’re a hundred times more handsome than any of those other boys.”
The Old Scrapbook Page 3
