“Grant.” Dena handed him the gift she had brought for him. Grant always received gifts from everyone as he had each and every year since he had started coming over to see Susan.
“Thanks, Dena.” He smiled tearing off the paper. Susan glowed.
“I do believe there’s one more gift,” Dad said, grinning.
“Where?” the two girls chorused as they looked around. They didn’t see a single box left under the tree, in the corner, or by the fireplace. Dad nodded as Brock and Grant left. The girls turned and faced their dad and spoke simultaneously, “Oh Dad!”
Brock and Grant came through the door lugging a large blanket-covered box and set it in front of her mother. Her dad pulled off the blanket and revealed an elegantly hand-carved rocker. Imagine that, Dad had made Mother a beautiful rocker. I forgot how Dad enjoys wood projects. Her mother fussed and fidgeted. Then she sat in it. Her eyes sparkled as she glanced at her eldest daughter. Dena grinned as she watched her mother look up at her dad; reach up and touch his cheek. Dena knew she would never
forget this moment, nor would she forget her parents’ obvious love for each other.
Susan motioned for Dena, Brock and Grant to follow. They slipped out to the kitchen. Grant made another pot of coffee. Then all four did the dishes and were putting the last pot away when Mother came in making noises about they didn’t need to do dishes.
“And Merry Christmas to you, Mother,” they spoke in unison. Grant grinned. Dena studied her mother as she struggled to hold back tears.
“Dinner will be at one,” Mother said, dismissing them, “so don't fill up on sweets and confections.”
Mother says that exact same thing every year. Dena walked over to the window and looked out. She watched the snow as it blew by in thick swirls. I wonder what the weather is like in California and what Clay is doing today.
Three weeks sped by. Uncle Walter and Aunt Doreen called New Year’s Eve and wished her parents a happy New Year and exchange family news.
“Yes, I’m glad we have a phone too, especially today. We had another snowstorm last night. It’s up to our hips now.” Then he listened intently. “Dena plans to leave here on the eighth. She should reach California the tenth or eleventh. Tell my little sister Happy New Year for me. Good hearing from you, Walter.”
Dena listened to her dad talk to Uncle Walter. She was amazed at how much he had said. Dena didn’t remember her dad saying that much to Uncle Walter when he visited last year.
***
January 8, 1940
With an open book on her lap, Dena’s forehead wrinkled in thought as she sat on the train daydreaming about home. Her stay had been too short. But knowing she would return in the spring made it easier to leave. After promising Susan she would come home by the end of May, Dena wondered if she could manage
that. Sometimes I promise things I’m not sure of.
“I say let’s elect him again. He’s led the nation well,” a loud, voice vibrated the coach. Another argument on politics. She frowned, sitting still, listening. She had really never paid much attention to politics, but it seemed to be the only thing that was being talked about. Even the two women sitting across the aisle were discussing the war. She knew that Roosevelt was running for a third term. Her dad, Brock, and Grant had debated the upcoming election while she was home at Christmas. Her dad wasn’t too keen on Roosevelt’s opponent, Wendall somebody. Somehow all of this didn’t matter much. Maybe it should. Politics is almost as bad as war. So why should I concern myself with politics or war talk. Besides, I’m not registered to vote in California, so that ends that.
Dena turned back to her book. But, when she tried to read, the words just didn’t make sense. She closed the book, turned to the window and looked at the reflection. Though the uneasiness she felt persisted. I don’t like this feeling it’s almost like fear.
I don’t want to feel fearful. Why am I so unsettled—so afraid?
“Oh, come on!” The already fervent discussion became more forceful when the speaker slammed something against the seat. “You know if they’re rationing sugar, butter, and bacon in Britain, who says that the United States might not follow and do the same! After all, Germany has invaded and conquered several countries surrounding Britain!” Dena tried not to listen, but that was impossible for voices were just too loud.
“It’s the Baltics now. Germany wants the oil they have. They want to rule all of Europe,” another equally fierce voice chimed in. Dena shuddered at the idea. What a rash statement. I doubt anyone would be so foolhardy as to conquer a country for oil. Think of all the lives destroyed. I mustn’t believe everything I hear. Once more, she tried to go back to her book. Instead she closed eyes, but couldn’t shut out the angry, agitated voices from the other end of the coach. She opened her book and stared at the words. She couldn’t concentrate. Her thoughts returned to Colorado and home. My time at home was the best. Maybe it’s because I’ve been away from home, and
I have grown to appreciate it. Definitely Brock has grown up…
“Then there’s Japan,” someone else interjected in an equally passionate tone. “It seems like Japan wants to conquer the whole European and make it into their empire.” That’s terrible. Why would one country want to rule another country? That would ruin lives I’m glad we don’t have to deal with that. I wonder if Bill believes that.
“At least Roosevelt says we’re neutral.”
“Neutral!” A third male voice hooted as though he had told a hilarious joke. No one laughed with him.
“Neutral!” someone else echoed. The word vibrated in the air. There was a huge pause. Dena glanced at the women sitting across the aisle. They both stared at each other. When he spoke next, his voice trembled. He seemed to be in control of each measured word. “Roosevelt may say that we are staying neutral, but he sure doesn’t act like it.”
Needing to see if the speaker was okay, Dena peered over the back of the seat across from her. She couldn’t really see anyone. She leaned back into her seat, closing her eyes and sighed. If she could only close out the world but it wasn’t that easy. She sure hoped she didn’t have to listen to this topic all the way to California.
“Man, get it straight, will you? The voice sounded like the first speaker. “That’s it! That is it! I’m ending this discussion, if you want to call it that. I’m not so sure anymore. I’m going to the dining car. I need a drink.”
She peeked over the back of the seat again. Several men sat in a large group at the end of the car. Cruel snickers followed him. She didn’t think the trip could be more strained. Tempers do soar, and things can happen. For the third time, Dena opened and closed her book before she settled into the worn leather seat, pushing back slightly, wrinkling her nose in disgust. These seats are so uncomfortable.
What was it he said, rationing butter, sugar, and bacon? Closing her eyes, she thought of her mother’s super chocolate cakes and berry pies. Mother had canned several varieties of berries for the
holidays.
It seemed that her mother and Susan had baked endlessly while she was home. They made all sorts of pies and cakes and fudge, for Christmas gifts for their neighbors and friends. It was hard for her to imagine not having enough sugar or butter. To be rationed, it doesn’t matter what, would be just awful.
She frowned, willing herself think about the night the whole family went to the theater. It was the twenty-eighth, a Thursday evening. After an early meal, everyone loaded into the car. Dad hadn’t forgotten. In fact, he had been adamant that he wanted to see the newsreel with his girl in it.
Her dad beamed. “It must be really special when a college film committee picked an unknown producer where he gets national exposure. And my girl’s in it.” While standing in line, Dad told everyone he knew, “My girl’s in one of the news reels.” I’ve never heard Dad brag so much. What if it isn’t any good and Dad’s embarrassed by the scene. Dena felt a nervous twisting in her stomach. She fidgeted. Nervous wasn’t the
word; terrified was how she felt.
At the first of the show, even before the cartoon, the news reels were shown. Seeing the small segment incorporated discreetly into a much larger reel subject, she sighed in relief. The segment featured Emily, Clay, and her studying blueprints. Surprised, that the news reel revealed a powerful message. Stuart had done a great job in a few frames. It was good. Still grinning, her dad didn’t say a word, but she knew he was pleased.
The main feature would change, but the same news reel usually played for a month to six weeks. The main feature was the renowned film Gone with the Wind with an unknown actress from Britain. Dena didn’t know much about the movie other than what she had heard. Dena relaxed and watched Scarlett, the main actress. She and the movie were good. Maybe she should read the book.
“Are you warm enough, Miss?” the conductor asked. Dena nodded. Mother’s quilt was perfect.
Sitting by the window, she idly gazed at her reflection in the pane. She shivered and pulled up the small patchwork quilt Mother insisted she bring with her. At the time, Dena tried to say no, but Mother’s stern look brooked no room for discussion. Now Dena was grateful she had it. The train wheels clickity-clacked down the track. Dena didn’t hear the monotony sound; her thoughts were focused on California and Clay. She didn’t know how many times Clay had been on her mind while she was at home. After seeing Clay in the news reel, she looked forward in seeing him at their coffee date. Date? She still didn’t feel totally comfortable. Dating was new. Friend, yes, but she liked the idea of Clay being more than a friend. So maybe dating was good. Yes, she liked it very much. Realizing the coach had finally become quiet Dena stifled a yawn with the back of her gloved hand, and soon was asleep.
The next two days, she slept several hours each day. Gosh I didn’t know how tired I was. Or could it be because I’m bored? I know when people are bored they sleep. After all there’s not much to do and not many passengers to talk to. The scenery is snow and I can only watch so much of that. Tucking her quilt snugly under her chin helped to keep off the chill that filtered through the cracks around the windows. She wasn’t sure what happened to the young men. Maybe they got off at one of the many stops. There were no more outbursts, no more shouting so her day was quieter and definitely more relaxed.
“San Jose. Next stop San Jose.”
California! Happily she folded the quilt and gathered her things. She hoped someone was waiting. Dena shivered as she stepped down the coach steps on to the small stool. She scanned the crowd. Ah ha! Stuart and Emily stood by the ticket window. Wonderful! She stepped onto the wooden planks and eagerly moved toward them. When Stuart saw her, he grabbed his sister’s arm and hurried over.
“Hey, Dena, it’s really good to see you. We hoped you would arrive on time. Here, let me get your luggage.” Stuart said as he snatched her ticket stub out of her hand.
“Oh, Dena,” Emily said, hugging her tightly. “I missed you.”
“Me too,” Dena said as she straightened. The two girls linked arms and walked to the car. Stuart followed with her suitcases.
“Did you have a nice Christmas? Dad said you had snow,” asked Emily. Dena nodded.
“Imagine that. Snow,” Emily turned to her brother. “Stuart, can you imagine Christmas with snow?”
“No. But then, California usually just gets rain,” he stated. Dena laughed. It was good to be back. They talked and laughed for the twenty-some-odd miles. To think a year ago she had wondered about their friendships. Pulling into the driveway, Dena saw Uncle Walter and Aunt Doreen standing in the doorway waving. Dena was glad to be back in California. She knew Colorado was her parents’ home. She would always enjoy going home, but she felt at peace in California.
Chapter Twelve
January 15, 1940
She woke up in her California bedroom and eyed the slanted ceiling. She had been home four days and actually had gone to work on Friday to help with enrollment. Studying the ceiling she thought: Yes, the Colorado ceiling does have a more dramatic angle. Funny, a year ago I wouldn’t have thought of that, but because of my drafting classes, I’m more aware of angles and lines in detailed ways. Dena stretched at length before she glanced at the window to check the weather. The sun was shining. Good. No more snow. Well, maybe in the mountains but not here on the peninsula. Yawning wide, she slid out of bed. Quickly dressed, combed her hair, and made her bed. Just as she started downstairs, Uncle Walter came out of his study.
“Good morning, Dena,” he said warmly. “How about having some coffee with me?” She followed him into the kitchen. Uncle Walter brought two cups of coffee to the table while Polly set on fresh muffins and jam.
“You start back to school tomorrow, right?” She nodded, biting into a muffin. “Is your first class Intro to Aeronautics?”
“Yes,” Dena answered between bites. “It starts at eight and is a four-hour class because of the lab. It’s on Tuesday and Thursday. I go to work at one.”
“Then are you also taking two drafting classes?”
“Yes. One is on blueprinting and its application, and the
other is Intro to Drafting II. They’re both second-semester classes. Emily said we should take them. The two drafting classes run from eight to noon on Monday, Wednesday, and Friday, so I’ll work all afternoons this semester.”
“More coffee?” She shook her head no. Uncle
Walter refilled his cup as he thoughtfully considered his next statement before he resumed. “Dena, if you find that your studies are more time-consuming than last semester don’t hesitate to take a leave of absence from your job.”
Quit my job? I like it too much. Dena blinked almost unable to comprehend what her uncle was saying. Speaking of her job, she glanced at the clock on the wall. She needed to go to the office and finish some typing she had left unfinished on Friday.
“Excuse me, Uncle Walter, but I need to go.” She quickly drained her coffee cup and rose to leave. Uncle Walter watched her. She’s typical of young people, always in a hurry. Uncle Walter looked at the front page as Dena removed her coat from the hall closet. She put it on as she raced to the corner bus stop. Several people boarded before she could step on. The ride was short but gave her time to re-think what Uncle Walter had said. Never. I like my work.
“I’m so sorry I’m late, Jane.” Dena rushed in, shedding her coat as she spoke.
“Frankly, Dena, I didn’t expect you in this morning. It’s still a school holiday.”
“I wanted to finish the typing I left Friday. Then I’ll take the rest of the day off,” Dena replied. After all, tomorrow starts a new semester schedule for me. Dena glanced at the clock as she stacked the finished work neatly in the basket. She was to meet Clay at two and it was a little past one now. Clay. She couldn’t wait to see him. Picking up her coat, she stepped into Jane’s office to let her she was leaving. Clay came loping across the street as she left from the building. Smiling, she waited for him.
“Hello, Dena,” Clay’s voice lilted softly. His eyes twinkled as he took her elbow and fell in step beside her. “I thought I would walk with you to the cafeteria since I was across the street.”
Clay picked a small table in the corner for them to sit. After sitting, he signaled for the waitress and ordered two coffees and two hot roast beef sandwiches. Then Clay asked, “How was your holiday?”
“It was really good but traveling home was tiresome. The trip to Colorado took over a week,” she answered.
Clay raised his eyebrows. “What happened?” Dena told him about her train experience, detailing the rock slide and describing the two elderly ladies.
“They were probably happy to talk to someone other than each other.” He laughed. Giggling, she conceded he might be right.
“Oh by the way, have you seen the news reel that has the drafting segment with us in it?” Clay blankly looked at her, shaking his head.
“I caught it at the theater in my hometown over the holidays,” she said as she took ano
ther bite. Then she smiled. “Imagine that in my hometown theater.”
“Why’s that so funny?” Clay prompted, seeing her smile.
“Well, for one thing the only segment that was used was the one with you, Emily, and me. You definitely looked professional,” she emphasized, looking at him, consciously biting at her lip. Her feeling for him had changed over the holiday, and she wondered if he felt the same. Dena reddened. She wondered if she should say what she really wanted to say. Dating had never been a strong area in her life. It made her uncomfortable. She never knew what to do or say. He looked closely at her.
“Dena, I really missed you. There, now I’ve said it,” Clay stated firmly. “I missed you more than I thought I would.” She nodded.
“I hope we—” Clay stopped and looked up.
“Is this a private lunch, or is anyone invited?” Startled, Dena wondered how long Carl, Mary, and Stuart had been
standing there. Dena smiled brightly. Inwardly though, she hated losing this moment. Clay scooted his chair closer to hers, touching her knee in the process. She shuddered at the closeness. She liked the feeling.
“I understand I’m sitting among celebrities.” Carl grinned, as he eased into his chair. “Congratulations everyone, especially to you, Stuart; that news reel was a nice accomplishment in your education; and a good start on your career.”
Stuart didn’t say anything.
“Say thank you Stuart,” Mary prodded teasing. Everyone laughed. Mary rarely interceded for him. Usually she sat quiet while Stuart controlled the conversation or at least talked. Today he just blushed, and was speechless. Clay guffawed. He actually slapped his knee and hee-hawed. Stuart slowly smiled at the crowd. Carl just grinned.
“Okay. Laugh at my expense but mark my words,” he warned. “I’ll get even.”
“The exposure you received is great, Stuart. I’m happy for you,” Dena said.
“Yes, Mary and I saw the small cut inserted in an important news reel. It really enhanced the segment’s meaning and opened another avenue of thought for the public.” Stuart warmed up as he talked. Mary listened closely. Dena hoped she could be that devoted someday.
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