A Matter Of Trust

by Sherrilyn Polf

  Aunt Doreen had got them some jewelry too. A single strand of pearls and pearl earrings accented with rhinestones. Each earring was about three inches in length. Dena grinned. The pearls did compliment her dress perfectly and they looked stunning. She modeled one of the earrings. Dena had never seen earrings as nice as these.

  Laying down the earring, she returned to her studies. Propping her back against the foot of the bed, she sighed. I can’t wait to get dressed. She hugged herself. Her eyes widened. My last dance was my high school prom two years ago. Oh gosh, I’m getting old! Two years!

  She couldn’t keep her mind on her homework. Then she reached for her only letter from Brock. I’ll write Brock—”

  “Hey, everyone, Dad’s home!” shouted Stuart from below. Dena hurried to look out her bedroom window, pencil still clutched tightly in her hand. Papers and books scattered across the bed. Evidently Uncle Walter was able to fly home. She watched as he got out of the taxi. Tall and slender, he definitely looked like an older version of Stuart. Stuart and Emily rushed out to help with his bags.

  Dena’s lower lip trembled. I’m glad Uncle Walter’s home but it makes me miss my mother and dad even more. Sometimes she wondered why she chose California instead of going to Fort Collins, where Brock was. God knew. Slowly she turned away from the window. God—she hadn’t talked to Him for several days. With her mouth turned down, Dena dismissed the thought.

  Firming up her lower lip she picked up her books and papers. She had some more writing to do before dinner. She looked around for her pencil then realized she still had it in her hand. Brain dead—that’s what I am. Dena nodded at the admission, sighed, and settled down on the bed to work on her thesis. All the notes were ready. She just needed to write.

  A tear slipped down her cheek and splattered on the blank sheet. She missed her parents, Colorado, Brock, Susan, and yes, even Grant. She wiped her eyes just as a knock sounded at her door.

  “Dena? It’s Emily. Mother said to remind you that dinner is ready.”

  “Thanks. I’m coming.” She waited until she heard the steps move away before she heaved another large sigh, got up, and looked in the mirror. No red, puffy eyes. She crossed the hall and rinsed her face and smoothed her hair. Uncle Walter must see me at my best.

  Dena descended the stairs to the dining room. Laughter floated out to her as she reached the door. Smiling, she walked in. Uncle Walter looked up.

  “Dena.” He stood up and opened his arms to her. Dena walked over for a hug. “I’m so glad you're here. Stuart and Emily were just telling me that I came home just in time to see you all get dressed up in your new dresses for a dance tomorrow night.”

  She nodded. Her eyes sparkled. Moving around the table, she sat down next to him. Emily sat on the other side of her dad, and Stuart sat between Dena and his mother.

  “And tell me,” he continued. “How do you like university life? And drafting?”

  Dena opened her mouth to speak, but Uncle Walter went on asking. “What made you choose drafting?”

  Emily and Stuart glanced at their plates, snickering. Uncle Walter looked sternly at his children causing them to laugh harder. Finally, he asked, “What?”

  “Dear, give Dena a chance to answer.” Aunt Doreen placed her napkin on the table beside her plate. Dena grinned at Uncle Walter.

  “Oh. Am I talking too much?” He wiped at his mouth. Everyone nodded. His face glowed. “I apologize, Dena. I’m so doggoned happy to be home.”

  “It’s okay Uncle Walter.” She smiled shyly and gave him a small synopsis of the last few months and how everything had come about. Although Uncle Walter already knew, he listened closely. He wanted his niece to be happy and contented while she was here. He knew it couldn’t be easy for her with the coming holidays.

  Dena noticed he took a second helping of everything and stayed just as thin as Stuart. Silence dominated. Each person concentrated on eating. Aunt Doreen announced that apple pie and ice cream would be served in the garden on the new patio table. It was such a rare beautiful night.

  Apple pie with ice cream. Dena ran her tongue over her lips. I love apple pie. And Polly’s apple pie rates right up next to Mother’s. Aunt Doreen passed Dena’s dessert to her, but before she could take a bite, Stuart snatched it.

  “I believe that’s my dessert. It’s too much for you.”

  “I don’t think so.” Dena put it back in front of her. In the meantime, Aunt Doreen had passed Dena another dessert.

  “Look. Now you have two. Yes sir, this one’s the biggest. I’ll take it.” Stuart did the measure sign on each dessert. He immediately plowed into the scoop of ice cream. Everyone watched to see what would happen next for each knew it wasn’t over.

  “I beg your pardon, but I believe this is mine,” Dena said, grabbing the pie.

  “You’re nitpicking, Dena.” Stuart picked up her dessert and held it out of her reach.

  “I’m not,” Dena came back, her lower lip protruding. Everyone laughed.

  “Okay, okay,” Uncle Walter intervened. “Mother, will you give Dena another dip of ice cream.”

  “Now, Dad, wait just a minute. Why can’t I have another scoop?” Stuart complained, snatching a spoonful of Dena’s second scoop.

  Polly brought out more ice cream and Aunt Doreen served everyone another scoop. Stuart cleaned his plate. He eyed Dena’s remaining bits of dessert. She sheltered it with her free hand. Uncle Walter sat back in his chair, watching with amusement.

  “Gee, I’m just too full.” Emily sighed, putting down her fork.

  “I’ll take it.” Stuart reached over and plucked up his sister’s unfinished dessert.

  “Now, Dad, that we’ve all answered your questions, will you answer some of mine?”

  Uncle Walter leaned forward, “What questions, son?”

  “Well, I know that most of what you do is probably classified. And I hear some of my engineering friends talking shop. But could you tell us more?”

  “Just why is what I do so interesting?” He asked as he folded his hands under his chin and rested his elbows on the table. His eyes never left his son’s face.

  “I’d like permission to do my fall film document on the wind tunnel project; But only if it’s okay, and if you’ll oversee and edit my work.”

  Uncle Walter sat back and studied his son. His smile seemed relaxed. And yet, his eyes were guarded. He knew the documentary, if done correctly, could be shown at theaters across the United States as a political segment or even incorporated into another segment to inform the nation. Uncle Walter leaned forward, placing his forearms on the table. He sat quietly thinking for a moment. Then he said, “Carl, one of the young engineers stumbled onto a discrepancy in the tandem propeller formula back in 1937. You may even know him.”

  Stuart and Dena nodded. She remembered him from coffee. He came with Clay.

  “Well, anyway, he sent a letter voicing his concerns and findings. That’s why I’m at Langley Field in Virginia. Well, the formula has been studied and corrected. Now we can move forward.”

  Stuart nodded again, eating the last bite of his dessert. Polly brought iced tea to the garden. Dena was glad for the diversion. The garden is so peaceful tonight. The rock wall around it stops the street noise. Fall reminds me of Colorado.

  Stuart and Uncle Walter talked. Of course Aunt Doreen listened closely. Emily sat idly on the other side of her dad, her arm wrapped around his and her head resting on his shoulder. This left Dena in her own thoughts. She liked being part of the family yet not feeling the need to participate in the conversation. She only listened.

  “The wind tunnels are for testing the propellers for maximum speed.” Uncle Walter stared at the roses for a moment before continuing. “Because Stanford University is working with Hughes Aeronautics on this project, Langley Field is where we’ll be testing. It has all the needed equipment. Since NACA is also part of the project, I came home to compile the information for the committee to review and prep
are to be published.”

  Dena watched as the last rays of sunlight bathed the roses. Their spicy smell permeated the air. She smiled and took a sip of her tea and made a face. Everyone else drank their tea with a sugar. She liked the bitter taste of tea and coffee. She set the glass aside and listened.

  “By the way, dear what are our plans for Thanksgiving?”

  Uncle Walter asked, terminating the conversation about his work. He held up his hand as a signal that he wasn’t done. “I know it’s a month away, but if it’s okay, I’d like to invite two or three of the young men I’ve been working with.”

  Aunt Doreen nodded. She would start making plans for a larger Thanksgiving dinner and a house full of laughter.

  Dena caught bits and pieces of the talk as Uncle Walter continued explaining his job and asking questions. Even though he talked frequently with his children, there were things he didn’t know. She would talk to Uncle Walter tomorrow. Tonight was for Emily, Stuart, and Aunt Doreen to catch up. Scooting down into the chair, Dena watched the sparse leaves cling to the branches and sway in the breeze. I really like this time of the evening. Fall is my favorite season. She smiled looking at the multicolored roses.

  “Dena.” Uncle Walter said. She looked up. “You never did tell me why you chose drafting.”

  “Emily asked me to take the courses with her,” she answered bluntly.

  “I don’t think I’ve ever heard an answer quite like that.” He laughed a deep vibrant laugh. You would have thought I’d told the funniest joke possible. Looking at him, she giggled. His laugh was infectious. She hadn’t thought of her answer being relevant, and it did sound somewhat absurd. Emily yawned, walked over, and kissed her mother and dad. Stuart raised his hands to his face in mock protection. Emily ignored him. Dena stood up and excused herself as well.

  “I’m glad you’re home, Uncle Walter,” she said as she hugged Aunt Doreen.

  “Dad, I still need an answer,” Stuart spoke assertively. Uncle Walter said he would like to see Stuart’s outline for the film documentation before the dance tomorrow. He would need time to think about it.

  ***

  Saturday, October, 1939

  Fall Fling

  It took Dena most of the day to get ready. She felt especially lovely standing just inside the dance hall with Stuart, Mary, and Emily. Gently, she touched the long, dangling earrings. Stuart ushered everyone to a table located near the dance area before going for snacks and drinks.

  “Look, Emily. Aren’t the decorations just spectacular?” Dena whispered as they sat and watched the crowd. Stuart set a large plate of snacks in front of them before he and Mary left to dance.

  “And what’s this?” She pointed to a small sandwich.

  “It’s a cold cucumber sandwich. It’s supposed to be really good.” Emily answered. Cautiously Dena took a crust less cube and bit into it. The band was playing a lively tune. She listened. The band was really good. She sat next to Emily, simply glowing; her foot tapped in perfect beat to the music.

  “Look at Stuart.” Emily pointed, munching on a small sandwich. “Doesn’t he dance well?”

  Dena watched Stuart twirl Mary and dip her at just the right times. Stuart stopped to talk to another couple. As Dena watched, a group formed around him and moved collectively—like a school of minnows in a stream—across the room to their table area so they all could sit together.

  It looks like our neighbor’s table. They had such a big family they used a farmer’s table, probably four feet by ten feet, in the center of their large kitchen. I always remember that when I visited the table was always full.

  “Hey, it’s Dena, right? Jack. I’m glad to see you.” He spread out his hands on the edge of the table and leaned his face in. His breath smelled of liquor. She stiffened, moving back.

  “Yes, it is. It’s good to see you tonight.” She smiled warily, turning towards Emily, arching an eyebrow in a questioning look. Emily shrugged, whispering behind her hand, “Jack’s not only being asinine, he’s just plain st—”

  “And Emily, Stuart’s little sister,” Jack said, cutting her off. “Of course, I recognize you from the documentary.” Marta gently laid her hand on his extended arm. He turned and looked at her adoringly.

  “This is my best girl, Marta. Marta, Dena.” Jack looked at length at Dena then turned to Marta. “She’s Stuart’s cousin. And this is Stuart’s sister.” Embarrassed Marta smiled at each girl before she whispered something to Jack. He grinned broadly and excused himself with, “Well, we must dance to this beautiful music.”

  “I think he was a little bombed.” Emily smiled knowingly at Dena. “He forgot that we already know each other.” They giggled. The waiter brought each another cola. “I’m going to be all cola-d out. I think this is my third.”

  “Just don’t drink so fast. Was that Jack? He sure can’t hold his liquor,” a gentle voice spoke. Turning, the girls saw Mary sitting down next to them. She had a cola in one hand and a small plate of raw vegetables in the other. “Dena, I must tell you again, your dress is gorgeous. Plum looks great on you. And o-o-oh, you do have stockings on!” Dena nodded excitedly.

  “And, Emily, your dress—I love the forest green. It’s so fall-ish, and it brings out your green eyes. Do you—o-o-oh, you have on stockings too.”

  They all laughed. Dena wondered where Mary found the word fall-ish. As a writer, she used many unusual words. Maybe Dena should look up the word in the dictionary. She watched Mary as she rubbed her hand across her own stocking-d knee, feeling its silkiness. Although she continued talking to them, her eyes kept going back to Stuart who was talking to some of the engineers in their group.

  “Emily, has Stuart said any more about the documentary he needs to complete before the end of the semester?” Emily shook her head.

  “Is it something that needs done directly?” asked Dena.

  “His deadline for submission is the twelfth.” Mary smiled at them; then her eyes riveted back to Stuart. He was crossing the floor with a huge smile. She smiled back. Several young men walked with him.

  “Hey.” He sat down beside Mary, wrapping his arm around her shoulder. She snuggled ever so subtly against him. “Gosh, how can a man be so lucky to escort the three most beautiful girls to the dance?”

  Stuart may have said it to all of us, but he has eyes only for Mary. Two young men sat down across the table from Dena and Emily while the others sat at the ends.

  “More cola miss?” asked the attentive waiter.

  “No,” Dena answered, “but could I have coffee?”

  “Of course, miss.”

  “Good idea, Dena. Make it coffee for all of us,” Stuart said loudly. His hand encompassed all, including the young men. Everyone nodded as the waiter left. She looked up. Clay stood in front of her bowing rather elaborately as he asked her for the next dance.

  “How are you? Remember we met on the train?”

  Dena leaned back in his arms and looked him in the eyes. She remembered him vividly.

  “I was with Jack. I’ve wanted to talk with you but”…his voice trailed off. Sometimes he felt self-conscious.

  “Yes. I know. You’re studying to be an engineer. I see you in the mornings going to class and sometimes at coffee,” she said, nodding.

  Clay looked uncomfortable. He said nothing pulling her closer. Dena relaxed allowing him to lead. The music was slow, a waltz she believed, yet she didn’t know the name of it. He quietly gazed at her until she could feel the heat moving up her neck. He twirled her slowly around the floor.

  “I want to apologize for my absence at the coffees. My work—uh classes have kept me busy,” he said. Dena searched his face, not understanding.

  “It’s all right,” she replied sweetly, covering up her confusion. “I’ve also been busy with my job and classes.”

  “You’re in college here? Stuart didn’t tell me. What are you studying?” he asked politely. A slight smile crept from his eyes to his mouth.


  “Drafting.” Dena realized that Clay was making small talk to learn more about her. Again she reddened slightly.

  “Really!” He leaned back to better see her face. The music stopped. Neither Dena nor Clay moved. He kept his arm around her waist. “Drafting.”

  She nodded, her large green eyes gazing steadily into his blue eyes. Why do men think drafting or engineering, is only for males?

  Almost immediately another tune in a faster tempo began. He swung her around with the beat of the music. Then he dipped her as the music ended. Dena gasped. She had never been dipped. The music started up—another slow dance. He held out his arms. “May I have one more dance?”

  She walked back into the circle of his arms and moved to the music. He leaned forward in silence and pulled her closer, tightening his arm on her back. Dena laid her head on his shoulder. They danced until the last note faded away. Then they slowly headed back to the table. He’s a good dancer. We dance well together. She glanced sideways at him. She liked his neat hair, his smile, the way his eyes squint when he laughed. She liked everything about him. This revelation came as a surprise. It made her feel nervous.

  Back at the now vacant table, he pulled out her chair before sitting across from her. He leaned forward, clasped his hands around his cup of coffee as he softly asked.

  “Why drafting?” He was truly interested.

  “I find it stimulating, challenging. I like numbers and formulas. I also like drawing and designing,” she explained quietly. By the excited expression on his face, she knew he understood. Dena wanted to know more about Clay. She was no longer aware of anyone else.

  “Whew.” Clay softly whistled. He admired her gutsy attitude. She knew what she wanted, and she was going after it. He leaned back in his chair, his voice held a serious note. “What do you plan to do with it?”

  “Work in a drafting department, of course.” Dena hedged. She really hadn’t thought that far ahead. Clay said admiringly. She felt warmth when his laughter enveloped her. It was a feeling that was rather foreign to Dena, yet she liked it.