A Matter Of Trust

by Sherrilyn Polf

  “At a friend’s house,”—Floyd waved his fork in the air—“It was terrific. Somewhat fuzzy but you could still see the game.”

  Television? Dena looked up right into Clay’s eyes. She had no idea what they were talking about. He smiled and continued eating.

  “Yeah, the Yankees did it again,” Floyd offered. He was more interested in the game.

  “I don’t know why Cincinnati couldn’t score. They outplayed the Yankees in every inning,” Stuart said, making sure not to look at Abe. “Please pass the rolls …”

  “Oh come on, Stuart,” criticized Abe, “That’s just not true.”

  “On the other hand,” Stuart continued, ignoring Abe, “they did make errors. Both teams had a lot of mistakes.”

  Dena watched with interest while the men sparred in a playful manner. She knew very little about baseball. Dad and Mother always discussed the teams, and Brock followed the games; but I’ve never cared for them. Even Grant and Susan bet on the games. I like reading. Her eyes traveled down the table past Abe. The young man, Martin, had said nothing. But, he listened closely. Come to think of it, Dena hadn’t heard him say more than hello since he had arrived.

  “Just admit it.” Abe glared from across the table. Stuart returned the stare and as far as Dena could tell, neither blinked. Abe thumped his forefinger firmly on the table. “Just admit it. The Yankees are the better team. That’s why they won.”

  Stuart picked up his glass before he slowly looked around at the group. His face sported a blank look. Does he not understand Abe?

  Only the twinkle in his eyes gave him away. Clay shrugged his shoulders, indicating Abe was on his own. Carl grinned. Stuart then embellished the moment by taking a long drink, setting down his half empty glass, and folding his hands in a prayerful pose just below his chin with his forefingers upon his pursed lips. His eyes stared at the ceiling.

  Mary looked down at her plate, her lips tightly pressed between her teeth. Dena covered her mouth with her napkin, looking for a second time at Clay. Emily cleared her throat while Monique and Julia began snickering. Abe’s face turned dark red. Stuart clung to the moment, stretching it as long as he dared before he leaned forward with a blank look, almost bumping Abe’s nose.

  “Now what was the question?” The whole group roared. Wiping her eyes, Dena was sure nothing could top Stuart’s joke.

  “You kids want to share the joke with us?” Uncle Walter asked.

  “I don’t think we can, Dad,” Emily replied dabbing her eyes. “It’s one of those … uh … circumstantial moments. You know—never as funny the second time around.”

  He nodded and turned back to his guests. It was good to see the younger crowd enjoying Thanksgiving. His eyes caught his wife’s gaze and warmly held it for a moment. He was truly glad to be home.

  Dena took another bite. She noticed how quiet it had become. Everyone was eating. Even Abe enjoyed his meal, although he delighted in giving Stuart the eye.

  “Did anyone hear the Orson Welles radio production War of the Worlds? I believe it was aired on Halloween.” Jules said, breaking the silence. “It was incredible. Had everyone believing it was the real thing.”

  “No. But I’ve heard different people talking about it,” Carl answered.

  “Well, I have a recording of it.”

  “You have one? How did you manage to get a copy?” Julia asked.

  “I have my sources.” Jules paused, and then continued, “Maybe if everyone wants to, we could listen to it after dinner.”

  Several nodded. Dena wasn’t sure she wanted to listen to such. War is war, whether funny or real. I can’t understand why everyone seems so captivated by it. She hated that those, thoughts continued to consume her. Mother always said you should replace a bad thought with a good one. Music would be better, much better.

  She took another bite of turkey and chewed absently. She must remember to tell Polly how good it tasted. Maybe she should get the recipe. She looked up and noticed that Carl and Stuart had started on their second helpings, or was it their third? She was going to be lucky to finish what was on her plate but when someone passed the hot rolls, she took another one. After all, it was Thanksgiving. All of a sudden her eyes clouded up. She looked down not wanting anyone to see.

  I hope everyone at home is having a great Thanksgiving. All of the neighbors and the minister and his family would be there. Dad always invited the minister. Everyone is there but me. Stuart causally ran his hand across her back. Looking up at him she hiccupped softly into her napkin. His eyes told her he understood. She quickly glanced across the table at Emily. Emily smiled. So did Clay. Dena flushed. It embarrassed her to think they knew what she was thinking. She dropped her eyes and dabbed them with her napkin, but a tear splattered anyway. I have such good friends. Funny I hadn’t considered them friends until now. Even as this thought comforted her, another tear welled up and dropped.

  Later Dena sat on the couch in the corner, totally stuffed and lost in a daydream. Only parts of the Orson Welles record filtered through. Many enjoyed the wild tale so much that they listened to it twice before they broke up into small clusters to talk or play games. Some even continued to eat.

  Casually she watched Stuart and Floyd play a backgammon game—round two, she believed. Mary sat at Stuart’s side laughing and keeping score. Floyd mockingly accused her of being biased. Emily and Julia were chatting, probably about boys. Julia, Emily had said, was a nurse at the naval base hospital. Abe, Jules, Martin, and Monique sat around the radio listening to a news broadcast. Monique is pretty in her own way. What with her red frizzed hair, long nose, narrow face and all. I guess it’s her personality that outweighs everything. She’s really nice. It’s good that the sunroom runs across the backside of the house, allowing room for all the activities. Everyone’s having a great time. Someone put on some different music. She saw that Clay and Carl were standing by the door talking. Dena sighed audibly, blushed, and squirmed around slightly. If I could mold these pillows to my back; maybe I could take a nap.

  “Is this a private corner, or can anyone join?”

  Dena looked up into Clay’s face and smiled. Clay sat down across from her in the large, over-stuffed chair, leaned forward and asked, “Do you miss your family during the holidays?”

  She was so surprised at the question she couldn’t answer. How could he not know—didn’t he see the tears earlier at the table? Clay continued without waiting for an answer.

  “I miss my parents. They were both killed just a little over two years ago. I was working in Virginia at the time. Some drunk driver hit them not far from the college. They’d been to a party honoring Howard Hughes. Something about a Hollywood script he was sponsoring I believe.”

  Dena stared at him. He had shared something very private with her. Carl sat down next to her, stretching out his long legs.

  “Carl and I flew back to California for the funeral and to square up my parents’ affairs. Then we went back to Virginia.”

  Clay paused a moment or two, staring out the window before he continued, “If it hadn’t been for my work and my friends …” His voice trailed off as he looked at his fingers spread over his thighs.

  “I’m sorry, Clay.” It sounded so shallow, but it was all she could think to say.

  “What he’s saying is that he has become somewhat a dud, all work and no play … until you came into his life.” Carl leaned over and poked him in the ribs. “Don’t take him too serious, Dena.”

  While ignoring Carl, Clay asked, “Do you have brothers and sisters?”

  “Yes, a brother and a sister. Brock is at Fort Collins, Colorado in college—agriculture—and Susan’s a junior in high school.”

  “What’s she going to do when she graduates? Is she coming to California too?” Clay’s eyes momentarily met hers. Carl straightened up.

  “No. She wants to get married to her high school sweetheart. He graduates this spring. He’s a farmer. Actually, Clay, you and Grant, tha
t’s his name, have a lot in common.”

  “I’m not a farmer and never want to be.” Clay said firmly. Dena couldn’t help herself, she giggled. She understood what he was saying. She too, couldn’t see herself tied to a farm with its long hours and hard work. It took a few seconds before she could continue.

  “What I mean is Grant’s parents died when he was a freshman. It was during deer season. The authorities think that some kook shot his dad causing him to drive into a ravine. Grant’s mother died from the wreck.”

  “Man what a lousy deal.” Carl whistled. He leaned forward.

  “That’s an understatement, Carl.” Clay looked at Dena. His eyes apologized for Carl’s interruption. “What did he do?”

  “Grant? He’s living with his uncle until he graduates. His uncle moved to Colorado so Grant could stay and finish school. He’s also farming his parents land. I understand he legally inherits everything in May after graduation.”

  “Did they catch the person responsible?” Carl asked. Dena shook her head no.

  “Where was Grant at the time of the accident?” Carl continued.

  “He was at school,” Dena said, sadness creeping into her voice. “He and his dad had planned on going hunting that weekend. It was really hard on Grant. I’m not sure if he’s hunted since.”

  Clay and Carl sat watching leaves blow around in the garden. Each knew about tragedy and death.

  “And you, Carl, do you miss home?” she asked.

  “Home; well now, that depends how you describe home. I have two sisters that I hardly ever see due to geographical locations. We keep in touch by letters. Mom died of pneumonia several years ago. And Dad still lives in the town where I grew up. He never recovered from losing Mom.” Carl settled back into the couch, spreading out his arms like an eagle in flight, and grinned. “My definition of home is wherever I am. I just live for each day.”

  “That is such an understatement,” Clay said, grinning.

  “No! I don’t think we should stay out of the war!” spat Abe, his anger apparent. His dark complexion reddened visibly. He was standing near the radio with Jules. Heads turned to see what was going on. No one spoke. He sure has a temper. Her eyes rounded as she watched the argument escalate. She held her breath. “What if it was us instead of Britain or France; they would come to our aid!”

  “Have you been following the articles in the papers?” Jules questioned, leaning over with his hands pressed flat on the table, glaring at Abe. Both men stood motionless. Neither would back down. Why they look like Bantam roosters! Suddenly Dena sat straight up, an eyebrow shot up in alarm. She watched Abe’s fists clinch and flex open.

  “I think until the president says we go, or if we choose to enlist, then we shouldn’t argument about it, especially on Thanksgiving. We should be thankful of…of… everything we have,” Stuart said firmly, stepping in between the two men. He didn’t speak of what was on everyone’s mind, or say how close to the truth the guys were.

  “Anyone want to play lawn bowling?” Emily asked. “The sun has come out, and I believe a fresh air would be good for all of us.”

  “Come on, we can be a team of three,” Carl said. Clay grabbed her hand, pulling her along. The game became a battle between the guys. She laughed at Floyd’s remark when he said that they tried to “bowl the socks off of their opponent.”

  Chapter Nine

  Guests were leaving when Dena and Clay came in from the garden. They were planning on listening to soft music and talking. Stuart stuck his head around the door and hollered, “In the sunroom everyone.”

  Mary sat next to Dena. Emily, Carl, and Floyd followed her lead with Carl leaning up against the window sill. Clay looked at Dena, puzzled. She shrugged. So much for being alone. He grinned. It was like he had read her thoughts.

  “I wanted to have a short meeting about my documentary. The film committee chairman told me that they’ve accepted my short film as a finalist. And there’s a possibility it will be released as part of a news reel.” Stuart’s face beamed. “He said it was that professional.”

  “Stuart that’s great, but is there any national security involved?” Clay inquired. He looked from Carl to Floyd. They nodded.

  “It’s okay,” Stuart continued. “Dad and my professor have approved the release after gone through all channels. Just don’t be surprised if some of you become overnight stars.”

  Everyone looked at each other, slowly nodding as it dawned on them the seriousness of Stuart’s statement. Carl and Clay aren’t sure. Neither am I; being in a documentary for a school project is one thing but national recognition is another. Then Dena smiled. Marta will be jealous. After all she’s the actress.

  Everyone talked at once congratulating Stuart. Then the guests started leaving. Around eight, Carl and Clay left but not before Clay made a date with her for the eleventh say around two in the cafeteria. He wanted to see her again before she went to Colorado.

  By ten thirty, Dena was propped up on her pillow, full and very tired. She yawned. Or was it tired and full. She giggled and yawned at the same time. She had enjoyed her first California Thanksgiving. She had laughed more than she thought possible. I think that Stuart could do as well as the War of the World producer. All he needs is time and the right breaks. She yawned again and slid down into the warmth of her covers, closing her eyes. She wanted to think about Clay. He’s really a nice friend. Well, maybe more than that. She yawned again. Soon, all thoughts of Clay disappeared.

  ***

  December 7, 1939

  The day started out with dark clouds hanging low. Dena frowned. Rain again. She had wanted to shop for Christmas presents, but maybe she should just stay home and read. She was beginning to think she preferred snow. She hurried to Aunt Doreen’s office, poking her head in the doorway. “Aunt Doreen.”

  “Hello, Dena,” her aunt said, looking up. “Come in.”

  “Just wanted to let you know, that after I check in my text books, lab equipment and enroll for next semester, I think I’ll go home. It looks like rain.” Because of dead week and tests, neither she nor Emily were working.

  “Are you and Emily enrolling in Intro to Aeronautics and the two Drafting II classes?” She nodded. “Have you finished your Christmas shopping?” her aunt asked. Dena shook her head.

  “Jane and I were talking,” Aunt Doreen continued pleasantly, “and since I can’t and Jane can, she would like to take you shopping. Is that okay with you?”

  Dena’s eyes lit up. Shopping with Jane would be fun. Aunt Doreen buzzed Jane’s extension. In a few seconds, Jane appeared with her coat.

  “Jane, take the umbrellas. It looks like rain again,” Aunt Doreen said.

  “Thank you, Aunt Doreen. I forgot mine this morning,” Dena admitted as Jane picked up the two lying on the chair.

  “That’s why we have extras here in the coat closet. Always feel free to take one. I gather them up at the house and return them to the office closet every so often. Go.”

  Aunt Doreen shooed them out the door. As they reached the bus stop, Dena felt sprinkles then drops. She was thankful for the umbrella.

  “Where are we going?” Dena asked. Rain splattered noisily on the bus window.

  “It’s a small clothing store in a district dubbed Chinatown. I stumbled upon it a couple of months ago.” Jane smiled.

  “Chinatown? Where’s that?”

  “You’ll see,” Jane answered. “Now who do you want to buy gifts for?”

  “I haven’t bought anything. Well, that’s not true,” Dena murmured. “I’ve bought nylons, but they’re mainly for me.”

  “Then we’re going to have a wonderful time, rain or no rain. This is our stop.”

  The rain had quit and the sun shone brightly between the dark clouds. Lingering rain drops on trees, bushes and the benches glistened. Dena followed Jane to the wet boardwalk. I can’t believe I’m here. It looks like another world. She watched people hurrying, all with different-colored umbrellas
open to protect them from the intermittent drizzle. They look just like fall leaves swirling in the wind.

  Toothless old men with beards bowed as they walked by. Children ran everywhere playing in puddles. What an array of tradition and modern styles. She watched a young girl about her age dressed in a bright blue kimono laughing with another girl clad in a skirt and sweater. They disappeared into one of many small stores. Each store specialized in brightly colored items which cluttered the small window space. Carts were scattered around the edge of the boardwalk selling food and drinks.

  “Come, I want to start with this neat little store. If we don’t find everything we want, we’ll check out some of the other shops,” Jane urged.

  They moved quickly down the street to a small, narrow alley. By the time Dena caught up, she only found billowing drapes in front of glass doors. Cautiously she stepped through, holding her umbrella in front of her. She blinked and rubbed her eyes. Slowly they adjusted to the dim interior. “Jane?”

  “Over here,” Jane answered. She turned to see an elderly Chinese woman bowing to her.

  “Le Chumg, this is my friend Dena. Dena, Le Chumg, who’s also my friend.” Jane smiled and bowed. Dena did likewise. She wondered if the small woman with leathery looking skin understood English.

  “Missy need presents for family?” Le Chumg asked in a singsong voice.

  “Yes.” Dena answered as her eyebrows arched. She not only understood English, but she spoke it well.

  “Come.” Le Chumg said, disappearing through another curtain. Dena followed. She stopped and looked at the array of merchandise. From the outside it looked like such a small shop. Several other shoppers grouped in different areas talking in a foreign tongue. Dena listened, fascinated with the lyrical tones. After about an hour of shopping for family and friends, Dena had picked up all of her gifts: nylon stockings and sweaters or delicately laced blouses to go with the stockings for the ladies. Jane suggested a set of finely embroidered handkerchiefs for Mary.

  For the men, she had bought a nice shirt or sweater and a pair of leather gloves. Grant would enjoy chocolates and monogrammed handkerchiefs. And for Polly, Dena found a cream apron edged with an eyelet cutout design. Dena inspected her growing pile before she mentally counted her money. What if I don’t have enough?