Before the ship was dispatched, she was stripped of all contents. The nubs who performed the duties must have had eagle eyes, because they found this in the navigation room. The original gold chain is gone—sorry about that, buddy—but here’s the amulet. I don’t know what you Catholics call these things, but your Baptist friend is returning it to its rightful owner.
Sincerely yours,
Barney Gilley, Colonel US Navy Retired
P.S. I opened a jewelry store. Come see us sometime! The enclosed new gold chain is my gift to you.
Tony unwrapped the tissue paper carefully. The miraculous medal that Chi Chi had given him the night of their engagement had found its way back to him. It was worse for the wear, for sure, but it was safely in his hands once more, having protected him, just as Chi Chi promised. As he clasped the medal on the sparkling new chain around his neck, he made the sign of the cross, hoping next time the Blessed Lady would keep him out of trouble.
* * *
Chi Chi plucked out a tune on the piano in Studio B at WJZ Radio. She sang the jingle softly to herself as she looked up at the box of Duz soap powder set on the top of the piano.
The most popular jingle writer on the staff sat back on the piano bench and frowned at the keys. She missed writing about life, and found it challenging to write about soap. She rooted around in her purse for an apple. When she found the Granny Smith, she stood and walked to the window. She looked out and polished the apple on the pilgrim collar of her blouse until it shone.
The traffic was jammed on West Forty-Second Street as rain poured down in silver daggers over midtown Manhattan. The showers were so heavy, the street gutters filled, becoming rushing gray streams that pedestrians leapt over like deer. Chi Chi didn’t mind the rain; it was as much a sign of spring as the budding treetops in Bryant Park, whipping to and fro in the sky in waves of soft green.
“Hey, you got that jingle ready for Mr. King?” Ann Mumm Mara sifted through the notes in the bins. “I didn’t mean to scare you.”
Chi Chi took a last bite of her apple. “I was lost in thought.”
“Anything to do with Duz detergent because I don’t see anything new here, Chi Chi.” Ann was a stunning Irish girl with blond hair and blue eyes, a looker in a sweater-and-skirt set in pastel yellow and pink, the colors of saltwater taffy. Ann may have been dressed like candy, but she ran the jingle department like a general. As manager, she had yet to miss a broadcast deadline.
“I’ve got it, Ann. Never fear. I’m gonna sing it for you. I call it Duz You Love Him?”
Chi Chi’s hands floated over the piano keys. She began to play. She sang:
Duz you love him
If you do
Wash his shirts in Duz detergent
And he’ll love you too
HARMONY, LIKE CHIMES: Duz, duz, duz!
Duz ’cause you do
Duz ’cause you must
Duz ’cause you love him
So in duz you trust
“It’s funny. He’ll like it. I need the lyric sheet,” Ann said in her direct fashion.
“How do you know he’ll go for it?”
“Mr. King gave up rejecting good jingles for Lent.”
“No kidding. Maybe he’ll bonus me for this one.”
“Not likely. He gave up raises for Lent too.”
“How about I give up this job for Lent?”
Ann sat down next to Chi Chi on the piano bench. “You can’t. You’re the best writer in the stable. I’ll get you a raise, if that will keep you. It won’t be much, but it’ll be something.”
“It’s not the money.”
“What is it? What can I do?”
“I don’t feel in control of my life.”
“What do you mean?”
“I never wanted to marry.”
“Why not?”
“It didn’t seem like a good deal.”
Ann laughed. “In a lot of ways, it isn’t.”
“Why do we do it?”
“Don’t you want a family?”
“I guess.”
“It’s a sacrament. It’s a good thing to aim for a state of grace, don’t you think?” Ann reassured her.
“Of course.”
“Every woman has doubts, Chi Chi. And we don’t know the world without a war in it. It makes everything feel tenuous. We’re on hold, really. The boys are gone, and we’re here working, holding down the fort. Such a funny expression, because it’s about war too. We’re in one, even though we don’t call it that. We’re fighting for our future and we have no idea what it will look like. That’s all you’re feeling. It’s not about your fiancé. It’s about the unknown, the uncertainty of it all. It’s about everything else.”
“You think so?”
“Love can do a lot, but it can’t stop bad things from happening. It can’t make a war end faster. And it can’t keep you from being afraid. Do you love him?”
“I do.”
“That’s all you got. You have to find a way for it to be enough.” Ann slid Chi Chi’s song off the music holder and into the folder she held. “You know what my mom would say? She’d advise you to go and see a priest.”
“That’s what every mother says.”
“That’s why there will always be mothers.” Ann stood to go. “And priests.”
* * *
Even though Chi Chi spent weeknights in New York City at her apartment in the Melody, the moment she could steal away after work on Friday afternoons, she hopped the train for Sea Isle City. The shore rejuvenated her, and by the time she returned to town on Monday morning, she was ready to face the advertisers at WJZ and write songs about beef Stroganoff in a can and long-lasting lightbulbs.
“When are you heading back into the city?” the priest asked.
“I’ll take the seven-o’clock train tonight.” Chi Chi sat in the straight-backed chair facing the pastor’s desk in the parish office as Father John Rausch perused dates on the official church calendar at St. Joseph’s.
Father Rausch was in residence as their summer priest. He was a substitute out of the Philadelphia diocese whenever their full-time clergy went on their annual vacations and retreats. The Donatellis had an affinity for him because he often invited his sister Marian, a talented coloratura, along to sing the masses. The sister act liked the brother-and-sister act.
“Looks like 1945 is filling up fast. Father Shaughnessy left a note that the church was available for two weddings on any Saturday in November. That gives us plenty of time for the banns of marriage in the church bulletin.”
“Pencil us in on the first two Saturdays,” Chi Chi said. “I’ll write to Tony to choose one or the other.”
“When is he done with his hitch?” Father asked.
“‘Whenever the Navy says he is.”
“Maybe I should wait on the calendar.” He closed it. “Your regular pastor is better at this anyway. I’d rather talk shop. Have you heard the new Ella Fitzgerald?”
“How is it?”
“Her aim is true.” Father Rausch stood and went to the credenza. He flipped open the top of the hi-fi and dropped a needle on a record. The honeyed tones of the great singer poured out of the speaker. She was joined by a quartet who harmonized with her in tones as luscious as satin. “Those are the Delta Rhythm Boys doing backup.”
Chi Chi closed her eyes and listened. When the song was over, she nodded in approval.
“When do you go back on the road?”
“I’m not going back, Father.”
“Are you going to sing locally?”
“I don’t think so.”
“If you don’t mind me asking, why not?”
“I’m getting married.”
“God doesn’t take away your talent when he gives you a husband.”
“If that’s the case, he needs to change the world, and men with it.”
“You’ve done very well, Chi Chi. What are you struggling with?”
“I made a deal with God. If he brought Tony home, I’d g
ive up the road.”
“That was dumb.”
“Thanks, Father.”
“I’m teasing you. We all make bargains with God in desperation. He doesn’t hold us to them. If he did, I’d be fly fishing in Montana right now.”
“It’s not so simple.”
“You and Tony have a family business. It’s no different from the LaMarcas’ trucking company or the Faiccos’ butcher shop or the Casellas’ restaurant. You happen to write and sing songs together. Why would you break up a business that worked?”
* * *
It snowed in New York City the morning Chi Chi left for Chicago to make the transfer for the train to Los Angeles. A telegram had arrived from Tony with news of an unexpected three-day holiday furlough in San Diego, followed by the delivery of a round-trip train ticket to visit him. It had been the longest period of time they had been apart since they had become engaged to be married.
As the train crossed into Pennsylvania, Chi Chi remembered the last time she had taken this route to see Tony. The snow made dizzy patterns in the sky over the fields as it fell, covering frozen drifts that resembled slabs of white marble striated with gray as they sped past. She searched through her purse for a pen and a piece of paper. When she could not find paper, she pulled out the envelope holding her return tickets and itinerary. She wrote on the back of it:
Winter is coming and you are far from me
It’s colder here without you, and I’m sad as can be
She looked down at the couplet she had written. She sat back in her seat. What was the matter with her, anyway? Why was she so blue, she wondered, when she was on her way to see Tony?
She wrote:
Winter is coming, and while you’re far from me
It feels like summer because you’ll soon be free
This train makes tracks as it speeds across the miles
It won’t get me there fast enough, into your arms to see you smile
Winter is coming, and the world is bleak
But my love is eternal, my heart is yours to keep
* * *
Tony waited on the platform as Chi Chi’s train pulled into the station in Los Angeles. When Chi Chi looked out the window and spotted him wearing his immaculate, white naval uniform, all doubts about their future together left her, just as they had on show nights when they took the backstage walk from the dressing room through the wings and onto the stage, before the spotlight hit them. There was something about the very presence of the man that reassured her.
Chi Chi moved through the main aisle of the train car, following the other passengers to the exit as a porter lined up their luggage in a neat row on the platform below. She maneuvered past passengers scrambling for their luggage, grabbed her suitcase, and looked back to the spot where she had seen Tony from the train, but he was gone. For a split second, she wondered if she had really seen him. She turned to go inside the station when she was scooped up in a man’s arms by her waist.
Tony had broken through the crowd and claimed her. He lifted her off the ground and kissed her. She dropped her suitcase as he held her close.
“I knew you two would get together back in Elkhart, Indiana,” Mort Luck announced as he stood back on the platform. “It was the canned bisque.”
“Mort!” Chi Chi shrieked as she let go of Tony and embraced their old friend. “What are you doing here?”
“I’m on my honeymoon,” he announced.
“We’re on our honeymoon. I’m Betty, Mort’s wife.” Betty was a girl who could easily win any beauty contest she entered, a butter blonde with an unforgettable shape and dazzling aquamarine eyes. “Mrs. Luck.”
“Doesn’t that sound official?” Mort said proudly.
“They saw me on the platform,” Tony explained to Chi Chi. “That’s why I was late.”
“A vision in white,” Mort said of his old pal.
“You liked your shirts bleached and starched too, as I remember, Morty.”
“You remember correctly, Lieutenant. And let me tell you, this little lady can wield a steam iron like Satchmo moves his horn. We got married in Chicago. Betty’s mother sent a trunk on the Super Chief. It’s filled with ring bologna and rugelach.”
“If we’re lucky,” Betty joked.
“Why California for the honeymoon?” Tony wanted to know.
“Let me guess,” Chi Chi offered. “Louis B. Mayer himself wants to sign Betty.”
Betty laughed. “Even if he did, I’m not biting.”
“My wife has bigger plans. She’s going to be busy building a family. She’s going to turn out the front line of the football team for the University of Wisconsin–Madison. If she starts today, we’ll have, I don’t know, eight, ten sons, and they’ll be playing by the ’62 season.”
“Because you’re such a jock.” Tony shook his head in disbelief.
“No, because she is. I married a girl who could letter in every winter sport there is. And she can sing too.”
“I’m done with all that,” Betty said without regret.
“So am I, folks.” Mort kissed his new bride on the cheek. “Betty was singing with a band and I was blowing noise in a combo in Chicago, the summer before I signed with Arena, and she was on her way to buy a hat, and I know a thing or two about hats so I tagged along. And now look. She got a little straw number by Mr. John, and I got her.”
“I don’t get it,” Chi Chi said. “You’re a great musician, Mort.”
“I’ll still play around the campfire. Listen to this. We’re out of the circus. My uncle offered me a job in his lumber business. I’m going to take it. We’re going home to Milwaukee and have some fun the old-fashioned way. You know. Sleigh rides. Snowshoeing. Taffy pulls.”
“All right, Mort, but if I ever need a sax player . . .” Tony warned.
“I’ll give you the numbers of three of the best fellas I know.”
“You’re not fooling around.”
“Not with music, anyway.” He pulled Betty close.
“You got it all figured out.”
“I don’t know about that, brother. But I do know that life is simple. Keep it that way. Here’s the number at our hotel if you kids want to have dinner.”
* * *
Tony opened the draperies in Chi Chi’s hotel room. “Okay, you’re all set. I’ll pick you up in the morning.”
Tony turned to go, but Chi Chi reeled him back into the room. She kissed his cheek, his neck, and his ear tenderly. “I want you to stay,” she whispered.
“We’re not married,” he whispered back.
Chi Chi stood back and put her hands on her hips. “I don’t care.”
“I do.”
“Now you’re pious?”
“I want a fresh start with you.”
“Maybe this is my fresh start,” Chi Chi said impatiently. “Tonight. With the man I love. I wear your ring, Sav. Remember this?” She waved her hand and the diamond heart.
“Our life begins when the priest marries us.”
“Have you become religious?”
“I don’t know anybody who has fought in a war who isn’t.”
Chi Chi sat down on the edge of the bed. “This is horrible.”
“I’m not rejecting you.”
“What do you call it?”
“I want to stay.”
“Such enthusiasm.”
Tony laughed. “Do this for me. I want this to be right.”
“It couldn’t be more right. I’m like a California orange that didn’t get picked. You know them. You drive by the groves and you can smell them from the highway because they’re so ripe, if they don’t get picked that morning, they’ll spoil. That’s me. I’m getting gamey as I wait. As time passes, I’m getting heavier, the branch almost can’t hold me. It bends lower and lower. It’s about to snap, and one day I’m so ripe, I hit the ground and explode.”
“That’s funny, Cheech.”
“It’s a riot.”
“I want to do right by you. Will you give me that pri
vilege?”
“How is this good for you?”
“I’m not proud of the way I lived. I’ve had time to think.”
“Away from the distraction of women.”
“Yes. And I thought about the kind of man I was and the kind of man I want to be. I was never faithful to any girl, Cheech. Not one. Only you. I stopped fooling around and started taking things seriously when you took me on. I want to be a good husband.”
“I won’t follow you around,” she vowed.
“You won’t have to follow me. There won’t be any need. I’ll be your shadow. See, I want you to have all the things you were raised with—your traditions. I want you to have that football wedding and the band and you in a veil and, after the nuptial mass, the parade through your mother’s living room where the gifts are displayed like a sale table in Gimbels. You think that stuff doesn’t matter until it’s taken away from you. I know what it’s like to be cut loose. I ended up like flotsam, the seaweed that gets tangled up on the periscope and you can’t see out.”
“I don’t care about that stuff anymore,” Chi Chi said.
“You’ve waited this long.”
“I’ll be almost thirty years old when you finish your time. Thirty. How much more do we have to sacrifice for this war? My mother had all three of us before she was twenty-five. I’ve missed out on years of happiness. I’m already late for everything.”
“And this is the girl who never wanted to marry. Is this because of the attack on the sub?”
“It’s not about the fear of losing you. It’s about the fear of never living. Time does not belong to us. You say wait, and I say you don’t know if you’ll be there on the other side of waiting. Rules feel like they belong to another time. A time when people were safe and knew they’d see each other in the morning.”
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