Songbird Under a German Moon

by Tricia Goyer

  “Although all the songs are good, I think you’ll especially enjoy Kat’s farewell number.” She turned in her seat, looking into the guys’ faces as she spoke.

  “You mean she’s leaving?”

  “Heading back to Hollywood, I’m afraid.”

  “Gee, those California guys don’t need her—we do.” Laughter spilled out of the jeep.

  “Well, we promise we’ll be there tonight,” one of the soldiers said as they approached the Festspielhaus. The jeep pulled over and parked.

  “Thanks for the ride.” Betty climbed out.

  “Songbird?” the driver called.

  Betty turned back to him. “Yes?”

  “I was wondering, ma’am, if you could do me a favor. My buddy, you see, is in an awful funk. He’s going home soon, but the sweetheart he’s been loving all these years isn’t going to be waiting. Turns out she shared a kiss with some sailor on V-E Day and went and got married. Not much wonder, I suppose, that he’s not looking forward to going home.”

  “That’s a sad story. Whatever can I do?” The wind blew harder, and Betty stepped from side to side, feeling the wind slice through her trousers, chilling her legs.

  “Just grin at him. Give him something to think about. Make faces if you have to.”

  Betty laughed. “I’m not sure our stage manager would be too keen on me making faces, but I’m sure I can manage a wave and a smile from stage. The only thing is, how will I see him? How will I know who it is? The lights are bright and there’s a sea of faces.”

  “Oh, I’ll make sure you won’t miss him. We’ll get there early, and I’ll see we get in one of the front rows. He has black hair, a long neck, and big ears. You’ll see me—and I’ll be right by him.

  “Swell. I’ll look for him—look for you both.” She gave the guys one more quick wave and then hurried around toward the back of the building.

  “Sing pretty, Songbird!” one of the guys called, and Betty couldn’t help but smile—in spite of the rain.

  CHAPTER THIRTEEN

  Betty felt the warmth of their acceptance spread through her as she hurried toward the building, her shoes splashing in the rain that collected into puddles. When she approached the corner of the building, she saw Frank standing there. His furrowed brow and wide eyes displayed a hint of pain and betrayal. Betty’s own smile faded, and she paused her steps. The rain fell harder now, and she wiped the rain from her face.

  “Betty, I came up looking for you.” He was standing under a small porch, and he took her hand and pulled her up next to him so that she was protected under the roof. “You shouldn’t be out in the rain like this. You’re going to catch cold.”

  He glanced to the jeep that was leaving with a curious expression on his face.

  “Frank, those guys—let me explain.” Her heart pounded in her chest, and she reached out to take his hand but he pulled away.

  “You don’t need to explain. I mean, well, we’re just friends, right? I—I simply wanted to talk to you about tonight, that’s all.”

  Betty placed a hand on her hip. “You may not want to hear it, but I want to tell you.”

  “No really, it’s not like we had an—understanding or anything. I mean there are plenty of guys around here. My guess is that they were just nice enough to give you a ride.”

  Betty stamped her foot, splashing water up her leg. “Will you listen to me? I want to explain. I wanted fresh air, you see, or at least that’s what I told Mickey. Really, I walked to town, all the way to town, since you didn’t come here.”

  “I had to work all morning. Had photos to process. And I went by headquarters—and did some other things. Uh, work things.”

  “I’d hoped you wanted to be around. Maybe to see me—” She looked away, suddenly feeling foolish.

  Betty felt the gentlest touch on her chin as Frank turned her face his direction. She lifted her eyes to look at him. As she did, she noticed the curiosity from before was gone—replaced by humor.

  “Are you saying that you walked in the rain to try to see me?”

  “It wasn’t raining when I started.”

  “I’m flattered.” Frank laughed. “Betty, no offense but you look a mess.” He glanced at his watch. “And you’re supposed to be on stage in an hour.”

  “I know.” She patted her hair. “I’m embarrassed to have you see me this way.”

  “Are you kidding? I think you’re adorable. I like messy—it looks wonderful on you. And it’s even more wonderful since you ended up this way for me.”

  “Thanks, uh, I think.” She took a step toward the door. “I can’t imagine the kind of trouble I’ll be in with Mickey as it is.”

  “Wait a minute. One more minute, please? I need to ask you something. I don’t think I can make it through the night if I don’t.”

  Frank studied her and she wished she could tell what he was thinking. He seemed worried about something.

  “Okay, but you better make it quick. I’d hate to bomb my performance. Or look like something the cat dragged in, straggling onto the stage.”

  “So you weren’t really interested in any of those guys in the jeep?” Frank winked, and she knew he was teasing her.

  “No, I don’t even know them,” she said, playing along. “I only asked them for a ride—to get out of the rain. I promise.”

  “And—you most likely wouldn’t have gone looking for me unless you thought I was pretty special, huh?” His expression grew more serious.

  “That’s true—I suppose.”

  “And maybe you’ve guessed that I sorta have warm feelings for you too.”

  Betty felt heat rising to her cheeks. “Sorta? Well, I’d hoped so. I sort of pictured our time yesterday—as a date.”

  Frank’s eyes grew intense, and he took a step closer. “Betty, I know we haven’t known each other long, but if all of this is true, well, I’d love to talk to you about us spending more time together.”

  Laughter poured from Betty’s lips, and the warmth in her cheeks moved through her body. “Yes, that’s something I’d like to talk about too.” She leaned forward and placed the softest kiss on his cheek. “After the concert, I promise!” And then, without looking back, she hurried to the door.

  Inside, she ran down the hall as fast as she could, her shoes slipping on the wooden floor.

  Dolly was the first one to spot her. “Oh dear, look what came in out of the rain.”

  Irene’s back was to Betty when she approached. “Is that Betty? What took you so long? I told you we need time to do your hair—” She turned, and her jaw dropped. “I knew that was going to happen.” She placed a fist on her hip. “I knew you’d get caught in the rain.”

  Betty nodded. Irene didn’t know the half of it, and she wasn’t about to spill the whole thing. She wanted to tell them about Frank, yet she mostly wanted to keep it to herself for a while. He wasn’t asking her to be his girl, but spending time together was a good start.

  Get your mind on the songs, Betty. Think about what you’re here to do. You’re here to entertain all the guys—despite the fact that a special one has captured your heart. Her mind spun at how fast it had happened, but she couldn’t deny it. Before meeting Frank, she didn’t believe in love at first sight. But now—now, she wasn’t so sure. Frank had certainly demonstrated in the short time she’d known him how wonderful and different he was.

  Irene pointed to the chair, and Betty sat like an obedient child.

  “I think the rain took all the curl out of it. We’re going to have to give you the sleek look tonight—we don’t have a choice.” With a quick hand, Irene brushed all of Betty’s hair back from her face and twisted it in a knot near the nape of her neck, pinning it up.

  “Okay.” Irene stepped back. “Put on your makeup while I get dressed, and then I’ll help you with your gown.”

  Betty sat at the dressing table, where Kat usually sat, and looked at the variety of small jars in front of her. She opened them one at a time and then picked a few colors that sh
e hoped would work.

  “Do you need help?” Dolly sat down beside her.

  “Yes, can you tell? I really don’t wear much of this—”

  “Like my home-ec teacher told me, ‘A beautiful face is not made by assembly-line or carbon-copy techniques. It is woven of handpicked threads into a highly individual pattern.’”

  “I thought we were talking about my cosmetics, not my clothes,” Betty snickered.

  “We are, but what I’m trying to say—what my teacher taught me—is that each person’s features are unique. Just highlight your best features. And for you—you really don’t need many cosmetics. We simply need to let your natural beauty come through. A little powder. A little blush. Some color for your eyes.” Dolly dabbed a cosmetic brush into one jar and then another, brushing it across Betty’s face.

  A few minutes later, Betty looked in the mirror at her reflection, pleased with the results. “Thank you, Dolly.”

  “You’re welcome. Now get into that gown.”

  Betty jumped to her feet and hurriedly dressed in Kat’s polka-dotted dress.

  “Has anyone seen Kat? It’s not like her to be late,” Shirlee said, slipping on her pumps. “Well, at least never this late.”

  “I didn’t want to think the worst, but I saw a captain heading into the house when I walked out,” Dolly said to the mirror as she pinned up her hair.

  “Are you saying Kat’s having—an affair?” Pearl gasped.

  “Kat wouldn’t do that. She’s in love with her husband.” Betty smoothed her dress.

  “Well, there’s only one other reason for a visit from an officer.”

  “Edward,” Betty murmured the name, and everyone’s eyes widened.

  “Do you think something happened to him?” Irene placed a hand over her heart. “It makes no sense though—there’s no fighting, no battles going on. I mean, there were a lot of telegrams delivered during the war but—now. Now we’re at peace, right?”

  They didn’t have to wait and wonder long. A minute later Kat entered. Her eyes were red and puffy, and her hair disheveled. A captain walked with her, holding her arm.

  The chatter of voices grew silent as they entered. The captain spotted Mickey, who had just emerged from his own dressing room in a light blue suit.

  The officer approached him. “Sir, can I speak to you for a moment?” He led Mickey to a side room.

  Kat didn’t look at any of them—didn’t say a word. Betty looked to Irene and then to Dolly. All of them glanced at each other, but no one made the move to speak first.

  Kat neared the dressing table, and Betty stood, allowing her to have the seat. An eerie silence filled the room, and Betty thought for sure she would burst from the tension.

  Then, with slow, tentative steps, Mickey approached, his heeled shoes clicking on the wooden floor. “Kat, honey, you don’t need to be here. Not tonight of all nights.”

  She looked up toward the stage manager, her face a mural of despair. “Listen, Mick, I’ve never missed a show. Never.”

  “But honey, you need time to process. Time to mourn.”

  “Don’t you understand, Mick? This is what Edward would have wanted. He loves—loved”—her voice caught in her throat—“he loved my singing more than anything. I want to do this. To honor him.”

  Mickey studied her for a moment, his face conflicted. “I don’t think it’s a good idea, but—you know yourself better than anyone.”

  “This is my last show. I never want to say that I didn’t finish what I started.”

  “Okay.” He drew out the word in a way that made it clear he didn’t agree. “At least drop the last number? The strain might be too much.”

  Kat lowered her eyes and pressed her hands to her forehead. She was silent for a moment, and Betty thought for sure she would change her mind—that she would agree with Mick. Agree that canceling was the best thing.

  Finally, Kat blew out a slow breath. “No. I want to sing that song too—it’ll be my way of sending him off.”

  “Okay, dollface, if you think it’s best.”

  “Yes, I do.” Then Kat scanned the room. “And as for the rest of you, no sad faces. Those GIs deserve just as good a show tonight as they got last night.” Kat grabbed her gown and moved toward the private dressing room, then paused.

  “Whatever you do, Mick, I don’t want word to get out until after I get to the States. Promise me. Nothing is worse than scanning a crowd and knowing they know. I want to sing tonight without seeing pity on their faces. And I don’t want to deal with it while I’m traveling back—I’ll have reporters at every stop from here to California hounding me.”

  Mickey nodded. “I promise, Kat. We all promise.”

  When Kat left to get dressed, the girls hurried to Mickey, circling him in a huddle.

  “How’d it happen, Mick? How’d Edward go?” Dolly asked.

  “Car accident, somewhere in England.”

  “Of all things,” Irene muttered. “The guy survived sixty bomber missions, at least, and he dies from something like that.”

  “Just another casualty—my gut hurts for her,” Mickey said.

  Betty cleared her throat, trying not to show emotion.

  “Do you think Kat’s doing the right thing? I mean she’s working so hard to be strong.” Dolly pinched the bridge of her nose as if trying to hold back tears.

  “I don’t think I could do it,” Shirlee answered. “I mean if I loved someone like that.”

  Betty thought of Frank. She’d only known him a few days, and they were just getting to know each other. Yet, even the thought of not seeing him again caused her lower lip to quiver. How could Kat be so strong losing someone she loved? Had married? And expected a child with.

  The baby— Pain pierced Betty’s heart, and she placed a hand on her chest. “Oh my gosh, poor thing. How’s she going to handle it alone? The little—”

  “What? What is it Bet—?” Irene turned to her.

  “Oh, did I say that aloud? I’m sorry. I didn’t mean it. It’s, uh, nothing.”

  Irene took her hand. “It is something. I can see it on your face. You can’t hide the truth very well. Not from us. The little what?”

  “I’m just feeling bad—for Kat, that’s all.”

  Mickey turned and drilled Betty with his gaze. “The girls are right. Your face reads like a book. Are you sure there isn’t something you want to tell us?”

  “I’m sorry, loose lips sink ships. I—I promised I wouldn’t. You’ll know—all of you will when the time is right. A promise is a promise.”

  CHAPTER FOURTEEN

  Everyone looked like a million bucks as they stood backstage, waiting for the show to start. The gowns sparkled, catching and reflecting every bit of the backstage light. Hair was pinned up, perfectly in place, and even their makeup was flawless. Yet as Betty glanced around, she saw women who appeared as if they were headed to a funeral instead of waiting on the sidelines for a fun, energetic, and exciting show. Heads were lowered, eyes were misty, and lips were turned down as each one grieved for Kat. And as each one thought a little more of her own loved ones.

  On stage, the band started, playing for the GIs who were taking their seats. The men’s voices were loud, boisterous. Betty dared to glance out into the audience, thinking how the guys appeared so young, so innocent. How did they get through war and keep their boyish smiles? She couldn’t imagine their losses, their pained memories that were only one thought away. Realizing that made her want to sing her heart out, despite the circumstances. Maybe this was how Kat felt too.

  “The show must go on. Everyone knows that,” Betty mumbled through the side of her mouth. “But somehow it doesn’t seem right, does it, Irene?”

  “I know, but we can’t think about Edward right now. Or even about Kat. We have almost two thousand guys out there that want to be home—and we’re going to help them forget that longing for a couple of hours. We’re going to bring home to them.”

  The Johnson Sisters were to kick off the sh
ow, but instead of only dancing tonight, Mickey had worked with them to add some comedy to their routine.

  Mickey introduced them and the girls hustled out. They started by introducing themselves, and then they turned to each other.

  “You know, Pearl. I hear the Germans started the war because they wanted the world for their living room,” Shirlee said.

  “Oh, like a new sofa?” Pearl smirked.

  Laughter filled the auditorium.

  “No, not like that. More room to live. To spread out. To build their houses.” Shirlee nodded.

  “Really?” Pearl scratched her head. “Did they get what they wanted?”

  “I think so,” Esther, the third sister butted in. “Why, the other day I was cruising around town, and I saw there’s a lot of room now—where the buildings used to be!”

  More laughter sounded, even louder than before, and the back curtain rose to show a living room painted on one of the sets. Betty turned her view offstage, looking for Oskar in the back, wondering how he felt about one of Wagner’s irreplaceable sets being painted over for a thirty-second joke. But Oskar wasn’t anywhere in sight.

  The sisters danced for a while, spinning, twirling, and doing complicated footwork in unison, and then Pearl paused and pointed to the audience. “Hey soldier, bet you can’t do this!” After that, the cartwheels started, and with each spin, the guys cheered, perhaps because of the way they cartwheeled in unison, or maybe because their bloomers showed as they flipped upside down.

  The band did a few numbers and then it was time for Betty, Irene, and Dolly to do their Andrews Sisters song.

  “You’ve got to accentuate the positive, eliminate the negative,” they sang. And although Betty smiled and swayed just as she was supposed to, nothing seemed positive about this situation. Betty was so focused on just getting the words out that she forgot to look for Frank. As the song’s last measure began, she frantically scanned the crowd. She finally spotted Frank and smiled. Then she glanced one row forward to where a man—the man from the jeep—was waving his hands and pointing to his tall, dark-haired buddy. Betty offered the soldier a friendly wave as she held the last note. The man’s face brightened, and Betty felt lighter. The smile she now offered was real. It was amazing how that one small gesture could brighten someone’s day—even her own day.