James and Harriet moved to Scottsdale, Arizona. James died two years later from tuberculosis. Harriet gave Bet’s scrapbook to Vern when they came for the funeral. Harriot died in 2000. Vern kept the scrapbook tucked away in his closet. His wife, Beatrice passed away in 1988, leaving him a widower. Vern eventually married a long-time friend, Sheila. He packed all his pictures, including the scrapbook and moved to the Chicago suburbs with her. When Vern died in 1993, Sheila eventually gave all of Vern’s pictures to his niece, Betty Jo. When Betty Jo passed in 2014, her son, Kenneth Turner found the old scrapbook in her closet and brought it home to stay.
****
Frieda worked very hard at the beauty salon. Her customers loved her and she would often end up staying later than her closing time. Especially as the GIs started returning home. The women wanted to look their best for their returning boys. When she did come home, Frieda liked to drink a glass of beer to relax and unwind. She would often send Bet down to the corner bar, called the GI Foxhole, for a quart bottle of beer. She had started doing this even when Ray was around, who often joined her in a glass. Bet was happy when the new bar opened since it was closer for her to walk than the old one.
On this one night, Bet noticed a new bartender. He was a young handsome man in his twenties. He made eyes at her the first time he saw her. Over the next few weeks, she would learn that he had finished his duty as an Air Force medic and was now home, working at his sister and brother in-law’s bar.
Bet liked talking to him. He was friendly and kind and so handsome. She looked forward to when her mom needed beer.
Frieda came home tired one night and Bet poured her a cold glass from the bottle in the ice box.
“Hi mom, how was your day?” Bet asked.
“It was good, but very long,” Frieda answered. “I should start taking a longer lunch.”
“That’s a good idea, I can make hot soup for you. You work too hard, Mom.”
“I have three kids to feed,” her mom said.
“How is your beer?” Bet asked.
“It’s fine… nice and cold. The ice man must have come today.”
Bet looked anxious. “Um, mom, don’t you need more beer? I’ll go and get it.”
“How much is left?” Frieda asked.
“A half of a quart bottle,” Bet answered.
“Then I don’t need it yet. I have enough for two more nights.” Frieda looked at her daughter suspiciously.
Bet couldn’t stand still. “You look extra tired, you should have another glass. Maybe you wouldn’t mind if I joined you.”
“Betty, what’s gotten into you? Oh, wait, I know. There’s a young fellow tending bar at that GI place. Mrs. Gartner told me about him. She said he’s handsome…a well-dressed man.”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Bet replied and then smiled.
“Go, Betty, get me some more beer.”
“Thanks, mom.” She ran towards the door. “By the way, his name is Eddy.”
Eddy had a big smile on his face when he saw Betty coming in the door. “I was hoping to catch a glimpse of you tonight,” he said. “You better sit a while. I think Izzy is unpacking a new shipment of your mother’s brand.”
Betty took a seat. “Let me ask you something, Eddy. What do you plan on doing now that you’re home from the war?”
“I have always wanted to own a bar like this one. I’m saving up, so I can buy my own.”
“Where?” Betty asked.
“Here in Chicago,” he replied. “I grew up here, in this very neighborhood. I went to school here, my church is here. I love Chicago.”
“Me too,” she said. The irony wasn’t lost on her that his dream of owning a bar was also Ray’s dream. Perhaps, she thought, she was destined to be the wife of a bar owner. That is, if he were to ask her.
****
Eddy ended up buying his bar on Racine Ave and, sometime afterwards, Betty became a June bride as she and Edward Jankauskas were married on June 1st, 1946. She converted to Catholicism prior to the wedding. She remained a faithful Catholic for the rest of her life. They had five children together.
Sadly, Eddy died in 1962 after a battle with brain cancer causing Betty to lose the two greatest loves in her life. But she had her children and, later, her special needs kids. She also had her faith and her precious memories.
Fittingly, the Lord took her home, just prior to and was buried on the feast of All Saint’s Day, November 1, 1996. For Betty was every bit a living saint.
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
Chicago, Present Day
It had been a rough week. I had multiple condo showings for days in a row. Megan and I had our first real fight as a couple. It was over something petty and stupid, but I’ve come to learn, it isn’t as much what you are fighting about as it is how you act during the fight. Upon reflecting, I think I acted like a pompous jerk. So much so, she wasn’t answering my calls and texts. Lately, she had been hammering me to be more committed to our relationship. I don’t even know what she meant by that. She said if I was half as committed to her as I was in finding out about Bet and the scrapbook, we would have a pretty good thing. Why can’t women just leave things alone? I thought we were doing just fine. Hadn’t I given her my condo key?
I decided to stop at the flower shop and drive over to her apartment. My plan was to intercept her when she came home from work. I got lucky, I found a parking spot two doors away from her front door. The waiting was making me impatient as I watched people come and go. I could see a couple kissing in a car a few lengths away and watched a woman struggle with a bag of groceries and a baby stroller. Was that it? Did Megan want to settle down and have babies? The thought quickly dispersed because she had never talked about it.
I wondered what was keeping her. The woman from the kissing couple exited the car. My heart almost stopped. It was Megan. I stepped out of my car with a dozen roses down at my side. When she saw me she stopped, dead in her tracks, and her eyes got big as saucers.
“I can’t believe it,” I said. “You’re cheating on me?”
“How can I be cheating on you, Kenny? We have never claimed to be exclusive.”
“So all we had to do was make a proclamation and we are in a committed relationship? I thought it was a given. I’m not dating anyone else.”
Her face turned red. “Just because you aren’t seeing anyone besides me, doesn’t mean you were serious about being with me. Don’t you see that? I feel like I’m just there to fill up your time.”
“I have feelings for you,” I said. “What do you want?”
“No, Ken, what do you want? I wanted to be with you, to get closer. I wanted you to like me, if not love me. If you had an ounce of the feelings for me that you seemed to have for your scrapbook girl…”
“Are you kidding me?” I asked. “She was just a kid who was engaged to my great uncle. I like to uncover mysteries of the past, that’s all. Yes, I loved both her and Ray in some fashion…”
“Look,” she replied. “I’m glad you found her family. I’m glad she lived a wonderful life and was as wonderful a person as you always believed she was. Maybe what I’m feeling is… now that the mystery is solved, you don’t care about me anymore. I don’t think you ever really liked me, Ken. I always fell short. Maybe what you’ve always wanted was an old fashioned girl, one who can cook and clean and bring you your damn slippers.”
“I never said that.”
“But don’t you see? That’s how you made me feel.”
“What do you want, Megan?”
“I want you to like me, I want to be with you.”
“How can I commit when you were just in that car, sucking face with…who was he anyway?”
“A new guy from work,” she answered sheepishly. “He asked to drive me home, and I kissed him goodnight. It didn’t mean anything.”
“Well, it sure meant something to me when I saw it. Here, I bought you some flowers.” I stuck the bouquet out towards her.
“So wh
at now?” she asked.
“So now nothing…I don’t know.”
“Then keep your flowers,” she said. “If you had bothered to get to know me better, you would have known that I like daisies, not roses.” She turned and walked into her apartment.
I didn’t know what to do. I didn’t know what I was feeling. It hurt to see her come out of that dude’s car. Was she right, was I just using her to help me get info? Or for sex? I got back in my car and drove off. No, I do like Megan. Plus she’s hot. But wait, it shouldn’t be about that. Why didn’t I know she liked daisies? What did I know about her? Let’s see…she likes wine, frozen pizza and stuffed mushrooms. Damn, I really don’t know much about her. Wait, she likes to run and bike and do research. She’s a whiz on the computer. She’s a Sci-fi fan. Plus, she really likes me.
I thought about turning the car around and going back, but I didn’t. I had a showing the next morning on the south side. So I parked in my parking garage and went upstairs. Moonshadow was waiting for me. He meowed in a sort of pissed off way, wondering why I was late in feeding him.
“Moonshadow, I don’t know what to do about Megan. Usually, I would have moved on by now. What do you think?”
He looked up at me and then back to his food as I placed the roses in a vase.
“I know, you like her. But you only use her to get your head scratched. You and I are a lot alike.”
I went to bed. I wondered if I would dream about Bet or Ray, but I didn’t. I guess the book was literally closed on that matter. I do have this weird feeling that Bet and Ray somehow led me to the discoveries I made. I read a book recently that said loved ones send us signs from the other side. It was called Pennies From Across the Veil. I think this is what Ray and Bet did. I think this old scrapbook found its way to me via the wonderful woman named Betty Campioni.
****
I woke up feeling refreshed, yet worried about Megan and me. I had to hurry down to Hyde Park for a potential lucrative showing. The condo showed well and the interracially mixed couple seemed very interested in it. I was feeling excited and tried to call Megan, but she still didn’t answer. God, I wished things were back to normal with us.
I don’t know what compelled me, but I drove down to 59th Street and Fairfield. I got out of the car and walked to the site which was once Frieda’s Fairfield Beauty Salon. Once again, it seemed so strange to know that over seventy years ago Frieda worked in there and Ray and Bet hung out right on that very spot.
I should have known better, being in that neighborhood, dressed in a suit for the showing. I didn’t see him coming. But a man came and punched me hard in the face. That is last thing I remember.
When I woke, I found myself lying on the sidewalk. There was somebody there.
“Are you alright, sir?” She asked.
I looked up and I couldn’t believe my eyes. It was Bet.
“Let me help you,” she said. “My mom’s salon is closed for the evening, but if you need help, I don’t live far from here.”
“No, I’m okay,” I said and looked around. The neighborhood was new and pristine. The glass front of the beauty salon was squeaky clean with vintage beauty supply ads on display. Just a moment ago, the building was bricked up where the glass now was.
My gaze went back to Bet as she carefully helped me up. She looked so young and pretty, so full of life. Her green eyes sparkled in the setting sun.
“I never saw a suit like that,” she stated. Then she looked closely at me. “Wait, do I know you?”
“I don’t think so, but I know you,” I said. “Just don’t make me explain how.”
“No. I’ve seen your face before,” she said while staring intensely at me. “Once in the reflection of the salon window and once in a snow storm. That was back before my fiancé was killed overseas.”
“What’s the date?” I asked.
“October the tenth, 1945.” She answered.
“So Ray died nearly a year ago,” I stated.
“Alright, buddy. Who are you and how did you know that?” she asked.
“Don’t make me go into details,” I answered. “Let me just say, I am a distant relative of James and Raymond. I’ve seen your scrapbook. My name is Kenny.” I grimaced as delayed pain flooded my face from the blow I received.
“Let me see that,” she said as she lightly touched my face with her fingertips. “Well, Ray never told me about you. But I do see a resemblance. It’s nice to meet you. You mentioned my scrapbook. You have no idea how much I miss him.”
“I bet you do.”
“Do you have a gal, Kenny?”
“Sort of,” I replied.
“What do you mean,” she asked.
“I wasn’t showing her enough affection, I guess. I caught her flirting with another fellow.” I found myself talking the way she might.
“Do you love her?” she asked.
“I actually think I do.”
“Then it’s simple,” she said with her all knowing smile. “Just tell her, but be sincere. Girls need to know their guys love them. Ray was wonderful when it came to that. But he was different, too. He had a way about him that just let me know how he felt about me. He used words, but he didn’t need to. Just find your way to let her know. Then she will let you know, too…and hopefully, she won’t need to flirt with those other fellows.”
“Thanks, Bet, I think I’ll do just that.”
“So, are you sure you’re alright?” she asked. “I’m on my way to get my mom some beer, would you like to go with?”
“No, thank you. I have to…” I stopped because I didn’t know what to do. How was I supposed to get back?
“Alright,” she replied. “Again, it was very nice to meet you. Remember, Kenny, if you love her, find your own way to let her know. Bye now!”
1945
Present Day
As I watched her walk away, I started to feel extremely dizzy. I slumped to the sidewalk once again. When I came to, I was back. Paper trash was blowing in the wind. My face felt like it was broken. I reached to check for my wallet just as a squad car pulled up. The wallet was gone.
I filled out a police report and headed back home. Was meeting Bet a dream or part of some unconscious hallucinations? It felt so real. Before going home, I made a stop.
Once in my condo, I went to Megan’s Facebook page and then studied all her social media pages. I discovered a lot about her. She loved sunrises, but sunsets made her sad. She loved animals and fought for animal rights, and felt guilty because she could never give up eating meat. She said her favorite day was Friday and her favorite Friday of all was spending it with me during a thunderstorm. Every photo she had on Instagram, was either of me, herself, or Moonshadow.
I decided to play the sympathy card. I sent her a selfie of my bruised face and texted the words: I got mugged today. I’m home recuperating and missing you.
She immediately texted back: Stay where you are, I’ll be right there.
She was, too. I don’t know anyone who can get from point A to point B as fast as Megan.
“Baby!” she said when she saw me. “What happened?”
“This huge guy,” I exaggerated for effect, “he smashed me in the face and took my wallet. He hit me so hard, I ended up in 1945.”
She looked at me strangely, so I told her the story, leaving out Bet’s advice.
“That’s some dream,” she said.
“If that’s what it was,” I replied. “Well, enough of that. Let’s have some wine and mourn the setting sun.”
She looked at me with surprise and confusion.
I took her hand. “Honey, I love you and I want to be in a committed relationship with you. I promise I do.
“But do you like me?” she asked.
“I think you’re awesome. I want to spend all my Friday nights with you and Saturdays and Sundays…”
As she threw her arms around me, I made a decision to hold off on giving her the purchase I made earlier. The night needs to be perfect when I give
her the heart shaped engagement ring, but I knew I would be giving it to her soon.
Thanks, Bet.
THE END
Epilogue
The Old Scrapbook is real, Ray Speck (my blood relative) and Betty Campioni were real as well. Frieda was Bet’s real mom who owned the Fairfield Beauty Salon on Chicago’s south side. This story is an attempt to fill in the blanks of their real relationship.
The characters of Kenny Turner and Megan were fabricated. In actuality, Betty Jo was my own mother, Betty J. Higgins. She received the scrapbook from her uncle (Ray’s real brother). I am the one who found it when my mom died. I had never laid eyes on it before that time. The only thing I did know about Raymond was he was my mom’s uncle who died in the war.
The Old Scrapbook Page 11
