A Matter Of Trust

by Sherrilyn Polf

  “Oh my, Stuart,” Mary said. “I need to go. I have class in ten minutes.” Stuart rose. Dena and Emily got up too. Only Carl and Clay stayed. They were still talking to Floyd and Martin. Dena wasn’t even sure if Clay knew she’d left. So much for a coffee date. Dena frowned. She raised her chin with determination and followed Emily out the door, never looking back.

  Chapter Thirteen

  February 14, 1940

  It was Valentine’s Day—a day for sweethearts. Dena sighed. She had hoped Clay would ask her to the Winter Ball coming up on March twenty-third. She didn’t know if she should buy an evening dress, wait or just not attend the dance. Dena couldn’t decide. Actually the dance wasn’t that important. She didn’t know what had kept him away. She just wanted to know what she had done.

  Aunt Doreen mentioned that the dance was mostly formal though codes weren’t as strict this year. Dena knew Floyd had already asked Emily. Aunt Doreen mentioned Dena should go regardless whether she had a date. It would be nice if I could talk to Emily, but I just can’t. She sat at her desk and idly drew on the ink pad. She couldn’t decide.

  It surprises me that Clay hasn’t come to coffee in two weeks or so, Dena thought sadly. He was coming on Mondays, and sometimes on other afternoons, but now …the last time we had coffee together, Clay seemed distant. Dena looked forward to their time together and missed seeing him or hearing from him. Suddenly a thought popped into her mind. I wonder if I should go over to the Engineering Building and talk to him. After all we are going together. He did ask me to be his girl. Mother would tell me that ladies don’t chase after men. Sighing, Dena fingered the necklace Clay had given her. She was so preoccupied with her thoughts she didn’t hear Jane enter the room. Why not? Maybe I should go.

  “Dena.”

  Dena jerked. She looked up and wondered what Jane needed.

  “Would you and Emily like to go shopping tomorrow afternoon?” Before she could answer, Jane continued. “Mr. Graves said it was okay to take an afternoon off as personal time.”

  “Do what?” Emily walked in, dropping her coat on the chair.

  “Shop for dresses for the dance,” Jane repeated. “I know that you haven’t been to my special store, Emily, I thought that Dena and I could introduce you.”

  “Great. I would like that. How about you, Dena?” asked Emily, watching her cousin closely.

  “Okay,” Dena agreed. “I think it would be fun, Jane.”

  “How about we have a late lunch?” Jane continued with a smile. “Have you ever eaten Chinese?”

  “I don’t think so,” Dena shook her head. Emily turned to Dena. Her eyes seemed to dance.

  “Well, I’ll make sure you try traditional Chinese dishes along with the American dishes. It’ll be fun,” Jane declared, disappearing into her office. Her voice floated back to them, “We’ll leave at noon.”

  Lunch, Dena resolved, had been an experience. She had never eaten Oriental food before. It wasn’t found in her hometown. Jane had ordered many sample dishes along with combination platters so each could taste several foods. Chinese tea was the house specialty. It was Jasmine.

  Emily sampled everything enthusiastically while Dena hedged. As she bit into an egg roll, she wondered if Bill had eaten Oriental food. She wasn’t sure she could learn to enjoy it as much as Jane and Emily seemed to. It was a California tradition. She had been told to try new and different foods. One thing Dena knew was she liked good old homegrown farm food as beef and

  potatoes.

  After lunch Jane steered both girls down a small narrow alley where her favorite store was located. Dena knew where she was going. Even though it had been a few months ago, everything looked familiar. Emily was about to experience a new world just as she had in December. Dena remembered to keep a close eye on Jane. Jane knew where she was going and assumed the girls would follow closely. She quickly disappeared. By the time Dena and Emily turned that corner, only dark billowing curtains were moving.

  “Where’s Jane?” Emily asked, standing in front of the curtains, uncertain. “Do we go in here?”

  Dena nodded to both questions, giggling. She led her cousin through the dark curtains. She could feel Emily’s breath on her neck. If she stopped suddenly Emily would bump into her. Dena looked around, slowly allowing her eyes to adjust to the dimness. She hadn’t been in the small store since before Christmas.

  “Missy, you come.” The small Chinese woman bowed, stepping backwards toward another curtained door. Dena readily followed but Emily paused.

  “Over here, girls,” Jane called from the far corner.

  Dena and Emily wandered between different racks. As they walked down the overflowing aisle, Dena kept an eye on Emily. They found Jane raffling through one of several racks of dresses on sale.

  She had pulled out several dresses of various styles. The girls were amazed that Jane could find just the right dress at an affordable price. Emily and Dena agreed Jane was a good shopper.

  Dena finally narrowed her decision to three lovely gowns.

  She ran her fingers over a red satin slender waistline dress. It sported a slim skirt that flared at the bottom, and the neck mimicked that new scalloped look, which scooped down into a V-style just above the bust. Lace delicately edged the neckline,

  covering all the essential areas. She had also picked a deep green, peplum gown depicting a small scalloped sweetheart neck; cap sleeves, a three-inch ruffle at the waistline; and a long, boxed pleated skirt that accented her dark green eyes and blond hair. The last dress was a black crepe with a low V-neck. It had small cap sleeves, a fitted drop waist, and a floor-length skirt which was softly gathered. The ruche front accented the bust area perfectly. Dena knew this technique was called ruche because of her high school sewing class. I’m surprised I remembered that trivial piece of information. Dena looked at the dress again.

  “What do you think, Emily?” Dena asked as she modeled the dress. Emily frowned then shrugged her shoulders. She was more interested in selecting the perfect gown for herself. Yet out of good manners, Emily paused and answered.

  “I don’t know. It’s gorgeous. Hold up another one and let me look.” She wrinkled her forehead. Dena held up each dress. Emily looked closely at each.

  “Gosh, Dena, I …” Emily said with more hesitation. Then she stopped.

  “I believe I like the black one best,” Jane said, excitedly.

  “Really?” Dena held out the dress and looked at it again.

  “I do. Just a minute,” Jane replied. She riffled through a different rack, and she pulled out a black dress that was styled like the red one.

  “Here. Hold this one up.” Jane studied Dena for a moment, nodding slowly before looking at Emily, “Emily?”

  “Yes, yes, that’s the better one of the two.” Emily continued to nod slowly as she ran her hand down the front of the skirt.

  Dena held it out and gazed at its beauty. Then she searched the tag for her size. It was perfect.

  “Have you found a dress, Emily?” Jane asked.

  “I just can’t choose,” she said in a mournful tone. She was holding two different dresses and had a couple laid across the racks.

  “Well, you know you two are the same size. You could exchange dresses. What with a little rearranging, no one would know.”

  “That’s a great idea. What do you think, Dena?” Emily asked, her eyes pleading.

  “Which two shall we get?” The two girls chose, put back, and then picked up the same dresses again.

  “Jane, what do you think? This one?” Emily asked as she held up a dress. Then she pointed to another lovely frock lying on the rack. Emily kept returning to the same dress. It was nearly the same style as Dena’s only it was a plumb color trimmed with matching lace. “Or that dress over there?”

  “Dena.” Jane glanced at each girl. “What do you say about the slender plumb-styled dress? Hold it up, Emily.”

  Dena looked at the beautiful dress. It was silk, a
nd except that the sleeves were a short puffed style; the black crepe and plumb silk were alike. “I like it.”

  “Then it’s settled,” Jane announced. “Let’s look for a suitable wrap.”

  “Missy wants fur?” The small woman took the two dresses from the girls.

  “Yes,” Jane answered, “either fur wraps or maybe exquisite embroidered boleros.”

  Dena glanced at Emily. Emily eyes widened. Fur? Dena had never owned anything as fine as a fur.

  “Missy find proper wrap here.” The small Chinese woman smiled broadly, showing her missing teeth.

  “Thank you, Le Chumg,” Jane said. “Now let’s see. Oh, here’s one. Dena, see if it will look right with your black dress.” Jane had pulled out a small cape-styled fur in dark brown. Dena laid it on her shoulder and turned to look into the mirror which stood on the floor just a few feet away. She let out a small gasp. It was stunning. Emily stood behind her stroking her shoulder. Jane then put an equally sensational black, beaded bolero around the dainty dress before she turned and smiled at Dena. She just

  couldn’t choose.

  “You think about it while I help Emily pick something,” Jane proposed. Dena nodded absently as she looked at both wraps. She decided she didn’t have to choose. It was harder than her tests.

  “Oh, Dena, would you look?” Emily couldn’t choose either. Jane had not only found just the right drape in dark brown but a beautiful cream bolero studded with sequins.

  “Missy ready?”

  “Yes Le Chumg. We’ll take everything.” She smiled at the girls. They were astonished.

  “Oh, Jane, I don’t know,” Dena finally sputtered. Jane waved away her concerns and paid for the merchandise.

  “Now let’s go see Doreen,” she chattered. Dena raised an eyebrow as Emily looked at her. “What do you think of my little store, Emily?”

  It’s outstanding.”

  “Jane?” Dena frowned.

  “It’s all right, Dena,” Jane interrupted her. Then she went on to re-assure both girls. "Everything was on sale. And since we bought two wraps for each, the second wrap was free. Le Chumg had sent me a sales flyer in a letter a couple of weeks ago. Doreen agreed she couldn’t have dresses made for what these cost.”

  “But…” Emily started.

  “Happy Valentine’s Day girls.” Jane raised her hand stopping Emily in mid-sentence and squeezing their necks. Jane was good at giving hugs just at the right time. Dena suspected she had had a lot of practice. The girls left their packages in Aunt Doreen’s office and waited until she came back.

  “Oh, I didn’t know you were waiting. I’m in a meeting. I’ll bring them home.” Aunt Doreen poked her head around the door. Both girls nodded.

  Since they had the afternoon off, she could visit with Clay.

  And Emily wanted to see Floyd. She pulled her coat snuggly around her and shivered. February weather was deceiving,

  thinking it was warm when the sun was shining.

  Dena hurried into the building and looked around. Afternoon classes were over, and students came out of all the buildings. She narrowed her eyes, somewhat, studying different groups, but she didn’t see Clay. Dena and Emily rushed to the cafeteria. Her mood was beginning to mimic the weather.

  “Dena!” a male voice called. Dena turned and saw Carl sprinting to catch up with them.

  “Hi.” He smiled. “I’m surprised to see you two here. Mind if I walk with you to the cafeteria?” Dena shook her head but looked at Emily to see if she cared.

  “I don’t mind,” Emily assured them. “How have you been? We haven’t seen you for a while.”

  “I’m fine. Thanks for asking. I was working on my thesis.” He told them he had his thesis ready for typing and how he was relieved to finally have it finished. “I should have done it before now, but, I guess I’m lazy.”

  “Probably,” Dena inserted in a teasing tone. “The thesis wasn’t your most prominent priority.”

  “Yes. That sounds better. It wasn’t my first priority. Research was and is, hands on research in the field.” Carl was silent for the remainder of the walk. Dena felt Carl’s hand firmly on her arm. She stopped just inside the cafeteria door where the wind wouldn’t bother them and curiously looked at Carl. Emily stood to one side watching the crowd.

  “Dena, about Clay,” Carl spoke softly.

  “I’m going in,” Emily broke in, “Floyd’s waiting.”

  Dena nodded dismissing her cousin. She stepped closer to hear Carl above the noise.

  “He has been struggling this last month. His parents died at the first of February, so the whole month is tough for him. He tends to immerse himself in work like twenty-four/seven in order to forget.”

  “Oh,” Dena replied, stepping closer. Now she understood. Her heart softened for him.

  “Because he’s been working around the clock—not eating or sleeping like he should—he loses track of what’s happening. He doesn’t want to remember. It will pass, but… well, it’s been tough.”

  Dena watched Carl closely. He studied the floor for several moments, struggling to explain something he understood well but wasn’t sure how to share it with her. All the outward signs showed he was worried about Clay and really cared just as she did.

  “He just wants to get this month over.” Carl glanced up at her ever so briefly. He repeated himself while he gripped her arm. It was important she understood.

  “What can I do?” Dena asked. Carl faced her with earnestness.

  “Ask him to the dance. Bring him back to reality.” Startled, Dena was taken back. She had heard the suggestion, but she had never asked a boy to anything. Well, she did ask Brock to a box supper, but he was her brother. That didn’t count.

  “Ask him, Dena,” Carl spoke quietly. His intentions were well-meant. “Go on in. I’ll come in later.”

  Dena understood. She looked for Emily, who was sitting with Floyd and Martin, across from Clay. Emily kept glancing at her. Dena knew Emily probably wondered what Carl wanted to talk so secretively about, what he couldn’t say in front of the group. Her shoulder sagged momentarily before she gave a little shrug, hoping to firm her decision. It didn’t. Mustering up what determination she could, she walked slowly into the cafeteria. Clay was sitting with his back to her. Squaring up her shoulders, she walked firmly towards the table. Ask and you shall receive—another one of Mother’s teachings again. Frowning she walked up behind Clay. Carl said I should ask.

  “Are you kidding? I can’t believe it!” Clay seemed upset. Martin shrugged his shoulders. Dena slid into a chair close to him but not beside him; where she could see his face. Clay glanced at her almost not seeing her yet his eyes flickered recognition and a

  smile almost made it to his mouth. Not sure how to approach the dance invitation, she carefully waited for the right time. She didn’t want him angry with her too.

  “No,” Floyd confirmed, seeing Carl coming across the room. “Ask Carl. He knows.”

  Knows what? Dena looked around. By Emily’s look, she wondered too.

  “Carl,” Floyd spoke before Carl sat down. “Tell Clay about the letter from Ed.”

  “Mmm,” Carl uttered, reaching into his vest pocket. “Here I have it. I’ll read the section that Floyd is referring to.” He pulled out a letter and scanned down the page. “Let me see … Here it is:

  ***

  At the present time, I’m trying to show margins on the engine mount for model “14” cyclone installation. 1,100 H.P. aren’t very gentle to a steel tube structure under a condition of unsymmetrical H.A.A. with takeoff torque. In my spare moments, I’m analyzing the fuselage for a new tail load condition at 5,620# applied obtained with power on, flaps down, and an acceleration due to gust. Woe is me. If the fuselage holds together under static tests, it’ll be a wonder. The ship has fowler flaps of a questionable design … little nubbins protrude from the trailing edge of the wing. These nubbins form the track on which the flaps ride. If I didn�
��t know what margins we have on the wing, fuselage, flaps, motor mount, etc, I would say that it’s a wonderful airplane … beautiful …and with all that it takes to make up a real job. Well, maybe it’s okay; anyway … it must be a good design because the margins are really down to bed rock. (M.S. = .001+/- .0005). And I had to fight to get this sketch. Ed.

  ***

  “Let me see,” Clay grumbled, taking the letter. “I can’t believe he wrote all of that information and sent it. I would consider it classified information.”

  “That’s not all,” Carl continued, passing around a second sheet. “He sent me a scaled drawing. Clay took the sheet from

  Carl and passed back the letter. Carl continued reading.

  ***

  Note: Gas tanks are formed by skin and solid ribs, front and rear shear beams and main beam. Hydraulic operated flaps and landing gear. High speed: 265 M.P.H. (300 lbs. of lead in tail when flying empty). Gross weight: 17,000 lbs.

  ***

  When the sheet reached Dena and Emily, they both studied each detail with avid interest. Dena noticed that it looked like some of their drafting problems. The letter was interesting, and offered a good diagram. However, she didn’t see anything outstanding about it. So where’s this conversation going?

  “It looks like Lockheed might have something,” Martin commented slowly. “Do you think Professor Miles needs a copy, Carl?”

  “Yeah, I’ve already air-mailed copies to him.” Carl responded.

  “Carl, do you know where Hughes is on their project?” Clay asked, still bothered about the details. She thought with a frown, He personally is very competitive. And everyone wants to produce the first working engine for a small plane, so the pressure is always there. Now might not be a good time to ask him to the dance.

  “No,” Carl said without hesitation. Then he stopped. Those at the table were silent for several minutes, each person contemplating the issue at hand. “I know the Hughes H-1 engine is being incorporated into present fighter planes. But it has been a working plan for a while.”

  “Is the engine the same one the Royal Air Force Bristol is using?” Clay asked, taking a drink of coffee. His face had relaxed to some extent. “They used two 920 hp Mercury XV engines.”