A Matter Of Trust

by Sherrilyn Polf

  “The H-1 was powered by a 70 HP Pratt and Whitney radial piston engine, I believe,” Carl answered. Dena tried to listen, but it was becoming harder by the minute. I guess it’s because we haven’t studied this in aeronautics class. She noticed that Emily was glancing around the room. She stifled a yawn. It seemed warmer than usual in the cafeteria.

  “Is that the twin wasp junior radical piston engine?” Floyd quizzed. Carl nodded. He had said enough on the subject. So he quickly changed the subject.

  “I plan on going to Virginia Monday after next. My thesis is finished and in the typing pool with instructions to send on to the committee. Any questions can be referred to me in Virginia.”

  “Really,” Martin exclaimed. “Why?”

  “I’m needed there,” he responded somewhat guardedly. “Others will fill my assistant teacher spot at the lab.”

  “Hey,” Floyd said, “how many of you are going to the dance in a week and a half?”

  A scowl crossed Clay’s face as he glanced at Dena. He had forgotten, yet he said nothing. Dena’s brow puckered. I want to ask. I should ask but I can’t bring myself to. Stuart and Mary were working their way to the table. She feebly smiled at them.

  “Dena, Emily, are you ready to go?” Stuart asked. Dena nodded, picking up her stuff and followed Emily. She wouldn’t ask Clay to the dance. Not today anyway.

  ***

  “Girls, come out here,” Aunt Doreen called after hearing them come in. Both girls went to the sunroom where Aunt Doreen had draped the newly purchased party dresses over the couch for their viewing.

  “I can’t believe you found such elegant evening wear and saved so much money,” she declared, “I couldn’t have bought material and had dresses made for less. And these fur wraps and boleros … why they’re beautiful.”

  Dena miserably stroked her black crepe. It was beautiful. Emily modeled her fur wrap. With her new Lauren Bacall hairstyle, Emily looked like she should be an actress and not an aspiring engineer. Both their hairstyles complimented them. Dena

  laughed at Emily’s capers, and then sneezed.

  ***

  Friday morning Dena woke up feeling terrible, and couldn’t breathe well. Then she sneezed and coughed. Oh my goodness, she moaned, I’m getting a cold. The weather has either been cold and windy or rainy. Dena pulled the covers over her head and moaned again. She had to get up and go in. She had a test in her first class. Groaning, Dena willed herself to get dressed, sneezing. You know you always feel better after you get going, dear. Dena paused. Mother had always said that when she or her one of her siblings feigned a stomach ache to avoid a test at school. And most of the time Mother had been right, she reflected, slipping into the ankle-length, brown, wool skirt. A stylish skirt should be shorter. But, she felt the need for her legs to be warm.

  “I can’t believe how cold it is,” Aunt Doreen commented as Dena sat down at the table. “They say it's one of the coldest winters on record. Coffee, Dena?”

  Dena nodded as she sneezed into her napkin.

  “Oh dear, are you catching a cold?” Aunt Doreen asked. “Polly will you bring me the elixir?” Her aunt called to the cook. Turning back to Dena, she smiled. “It’s the best medicine on the shelf and it will help you get better. If we catch it quickly enough, maybe you won’t be too ill.” Emily wrinkled up her nose in distaste. Stuart frowned.

  “This along with hot tea, toast, and rest will help you get well.” Aunt Doreen said. Polly brought over the bottle of medicine and a spoon then disappeared back into the kitchen. Dena took a tablespoon of the syrup. The bitterness made her want to gag but she didn’t. The elixir burned all the way to her stomach. No wonder her cousins made faces. “I think I’ll go to my first class, Aunt Doreen,” Dena whispered. “I have a test.”

  “You will come straight home after the test. Emily can bring your assignment from the other class.” Aunt Doreen brooked no rebuttal from her niece. Dena nodded obediently.

  The test was long and detailed. She was tired when she finished although she didn’t sneeze. Picking up her books, Dena wasn’t sure if not sneezing was good or bad, but she was going home.

  “See you later,” Emily whispered. Dena nodded, pulling her coat collar up around her ears. Walking toward the bus stop, she felt chilled. And by the time she reached the house, all she wanted was to go to bed. As she closed the door, Dena sneezed.

  “Miss Dena,” Polly stood with the elixir and a spoon. “You need to take another spoonful before you go up to rest.”

  Dena sneezed. Polly handed her the bottle and spoon. Wrinkling up her nose, Dena took a spoonful. Her nose wrinkled in distaste as she handed the bottle and spoon back to Polly.

  Satisfied, Polly left.

  Spying the letters from home, she picked them up. Dena smiled. She would crawl into bed before reading them. The bed felt good, she sighed, tearing the end off of the envelope that held Brock’s letter.

  ***

  February, 1940

  Dear Sis,

  Happy Valentine’s Day. Remember the valentine boxes and all of the silly valentines we used to make for friends? Well here’s one for you. Anne (a coworker and friend) and I sure had fun creating these. She made valentines for her family also. I enjoyed your last letter.

  And, Dena, I really valued our time at home during Christmas. Like that word … valued? I’m trying to broaden my vocabulary. Of course, most people don’t seem to care if your vocabulary is extensive. They can tell by the tone of your voice how kind you are. Soft voice is the best I’m told. The weather here has been bitterly cold. We’ve had record snowfall, and I’m beginning to think I should have gone to California with you. How are your classes? I’ve some pretty hard classes and labs this semester. Plus work schedule rotations. Not much time for socializing. How about you? I’m looking forward in seeing you at Susan’s wedding. Remember I’m always your valentine…and.…

  Your best valentine,

  Brock

  ***

  Dena sighed, laying Brock’s letter next to Susan’s. Still holding the homemade valentine with a lace doily and ribbon, she chuckled at his silly sentiment. Absently, she rubbed it between her fingers, remembering. It was the best medicine she could have at this moment. Placing the valentine on top of Brock’s letter, she picked up Susan’s letter, Dena stared at the envelope. Finally she pulled out two pages.

  ***

  February, 1940

  Dear Dena,

  I can’t believe the weather. Grant’s had trouble getting over here—let alone getting to school. In fact, school has been closed for a little over a week due to the large amounts of blowing snow and it’ll probably stay closed until the snow plows can open up all the roads. The principal and school board are talking about us making up lost days by going to school on Saturdays next spring. Better that than into June. I can’t imagine having school on my wedding day. Of course if we have too many days out, we might have to go into June. I would rather go longer days and Saturdays than have school in June.

  I’m so excited. Mother offered her wedding dress. It fits a little snug, but Mother says we can let out the seams. I can’t imagine wearing Mother’s wedding gown. It’s beautiful! I’m not sure what I will do for a veil. Mother said she wore her mother’s.

  As for your and Emily’s dresses, Mother and I have found the material—a lovely blue taffeta. Your dresses will be long, semi-fitted with a flare just below the knees. You’ll wear white straw hats with large brims trimmed with blue and white flowers and a long blue bow. What do you think? Say you love it, Dena. I so want you and Emily to wear blue.

  We will get married in the rose garden. It’s beautiful in early summer with all of mother’s prized roses blooming. Not only is it a favorite spot, but Mother said that she and Dad were married there. Isn’t that just perfect? Reverend Tower will marry us. There’ll be cut roses on the tables. Well I guess I should close. I’m babbling. I can't wait for you to come home.

  Love, Susan <
br />
  P.S. Grant, Mother and Dad say Happy Valentine’s Day

  ***

  Dena sighed heavily, sneezing at the same time. She wiped her nose with her handkerchief; then laid Susan’s letter on the night stand with Brock’s. She would answer them later. Crawling under the comforter and pulling it up around her neck, she sighed and closed her eyes. Soon she was asleep.

  Chapter Fourteen

  “Hey, sleepyhead.” A voice prodded her awake. Dena moved groggily. She felt stiff and tired, and wanted to pull the covers over her head. But, someone wanted her to wake up. Finally pushing herself up into a sitting position, she yawned and stretched. “Emily, what time is it?”

  “It’s Saturday morning, a little past nine,” Emily spoke. “You’ve slept over twenty hours. How do you feel?”

  “Oh my.” Dena sat up straighter. She stretched again, knocking the letters off the night table. “I was just going to rest for a little while.”

  “Would you like me to bring you some breakfast?” questioned Emily.

  “Uh … I think I could come down.” Dena stifled another yawn.

  “If I brought you breakfast,” Emily stated playfully, “I could bring coffee for me and tell you about yesterday’s meeting at the cafeteria.”

  Dena studied Emily for a moment. “Is it something I need to know or even want to know?”

  “I believe so. I’ll be back.” Emily hurried out the door before Dena could protest. Minutes later she returned with several slices of toast, orange juice, and two kinds of jam along with a small pot of coffee and the bottle of elixir. “Polly says to

  take some more syrup. Stuart’s sneezing today so I’m sure he’ll give you a hard time.”

  Dena munched slowly on a slice of toast. She hadn’t realized how hungry she was until now. She hadn’t eaten since yesterday morning, and then had eaten very little. Emily eyed her impatiently. As Dena sipped her coffee, Emily moved closer. Dena relaxed onto her pillow.

  “Guess who missed you yesterday?” she asked and then not giving Dena a chance to respond, blurted out, “Well everybody, but mostly Clay.”

  “Really?”

  “Uh-huh,” Emily nodded before she paused to take another sip of coffee. Then she continued, “It wouldn’t surprise me if he came tomorrow afternoon.”

  “What?” Dena’s free hand went to her tangled hair, trying to smooth it out.

  “Well,” she said in a hushed voice, “he asked me and I suggested that if he decided to come by, to do it Sunday afternoon.”

  “Oh, Emily, you didn’t.” Dena sounded upset.

  Emily nodded. “I did.”

  Dena gazed at her cup, weighing the implications. She had been so annoyed with him last Thursday she might not have talked to him if he had tried to talk to her on Friday. At that moment another one of Mother’s scriptures popped into her thoughts. The LORD is slow to anger … so should I not let anger rule over me also? She probably didn’t remember it correctly—more like paraphrased. It was strange how in the oddest moments scriptures came to her mind. I guess it’s true: train up a child in the way of the LORD, and it will always stay with him. She was sure she hadn’t remembered the quote exactly but knew her dad and mother made sure she was raised well.

  “You know, Dena, he’ll be in your home field again like at Thanksgiving. That should give you an advantage. I hope you keep that in mind when he shows up,” Emily suggested while

  relaxing on the end of Dena’s bed.

  “If he comes,” Dena grumbled. Emily just smiled. Dena studied her face closely. Did she know something?

  “There she is. There’s the culprit,” a raspy voice came from the partially opened door. Stuart stuck his head in and peered at her. Dena held up the elixir. “No, no don’t even think about asking me in or giving me some of that nasty stuff. You’re contaminated, and you’ve shared already. How? I’m not sure, but you did.”

  “Then you should be safe if you have a cold,” Dena responded quickly, grinning at him. She wanted to laugh. Stuart looked pathetic. His head disappeared as he sneezed loudly. Slowly he poked his head back in before entering. He wiped his nose with a large, gray handkerchief. Dena was impressed. She had never considered Stuart and handkerchiefs in the same thought.

  “Is this a private conversation, or can anyone—meaning me—enter in?” Both looked sternly at him as if he had committed a sin. He raised his hands in resignation. “All right, I’ll go under protest mind you, but I will go.”

  “He doesn’t act sick to me,” Dena stated, firmly spooning elixir for herself. Emily nodded, snickered as she rose, took the empty tray, and turned to leave. “See you later. Mother said to rest today. I’ll be back later.”

  Dena nodded with a yawn and snuggled down in her bed. Maybe she could answer Brock and Susan’s letters.

  ***

  Sunday, February 18, 1940

  She woke feeling somewhat better. Even though she could see some frost on the window panes, the sun was shining. It was Sunday. Quickly dressing, she made her bed and straightened everything up before going down for some much needed breakfast. And coffee—lots of coffee. Everyone was there, even sick Stuart. He gave her a big grin.

  “Guess I can’t eat your breakfast this morning,” he teased between bites.

  “I think not,” was all she said. Stuart’s feeling much better too.

  “Well, how about that,” Stuart feigned hurt. “After all I have done for you.” Dena turned to glare at him but thought better of it.

  “Please pass the toast and bacon, Aunt Doreen.” Dena continued smiling a peculiar little smile which turned up the corners of her mouth slightly. It would make others wonder what she was up to.

  “What?” Stuart asked, caught completely off guard by her look. Dena just smiled as she took some bacon. Emily and Aunt Doreen watched the drama unfold. Squirming slightly, he repeated, “What?”

  “After breakfast if you feel like it, Dena, I thought we might spend some time in the kitchen,” Aunt Doreen said, stopping the tension. “I’ve some new patterns and material to show you and Emily.”

  Dena couldn’t believe the magazine picture Aunt Doreen showed her. There was Lauren Bacall modeling slacks. Slacks! Do I ever like that look! Oh, I’ve worn Brock’s overalls when I was younger, but only on the ranch. I would have never worn overalls to town. ‘It’s not ladylike,’ Mother would say.

  “If you girls would like a slack and jacket set or only slacks, to wear with sweaters like the styles Miss Bacall is modeling, we can make them. In fact, I had Jane pick up some material. I hope you don’t mind.”

  “Oh no Aunt Doreen,” Dena whispered. Still tired, she relaxed into her chair. “I don’t mind at all, not at all. What about you, Emily?”

  Emily shook her head. Her eyes danced. Stuart ambled in and looked. All he could muster was “Wow!” He sat down next to Dena. She completely understood.

  “You know they’re very practical and warm for the winter months, especially this winter.” Aunt Doreen explained.

  “Mother may I look at the magazine.” Stuart asked as he touched the uncut velvet. Four pairs of eyes stared at him. Polly grinned. Raising his hands and stepping back, he followed with another, “What?” Dena noticed it seemed to be his favorite word this morning. Maybe it was just becoming a Stuart phrase.

  “I want to look at them,” he said clarifying his request. Aunt Doreen handed it to him as she pulled out two different patterns. The slacks had pressed pleats in the front. Dena couldn’t help herself. Her stomach jumped with excitement.

  “Polly said she would help us today. Maybe we can at least get one pair ready for each of you to wear this week.” Aunt Doreen continued pointing out details and pockets. Dena felt the material. It was so soft. She wondered what it was.

  “It’s called uncut velvet. And it’s supposed to be excellent for this pattern. Corduroy and some wool blends would work too.” Aunt Doreen offered answering Dena’s unspoken question. Dena couldn’t de
cide on the color or material.

  “I like the wool blend and the corduroy,” Emily said.

  “Dena?” Aunt Doreen and Emily were waiting for her to answer.

  “You would look great in the dark brown stuff, Dena,” Stuart broke in. Everyone looked at him as he continued defensively, “What? It’s the trained eye of a film student.”

  “Yes, I’ll take the dark brown velvet for slacks and the gray wool blend for a jacket and slacks set if that is okay,” she answered.

  “Excellent choice,” Stuart asserted seriously laying down the magazine. Then he turned to exit with his little flare of drama.

  “Guess I’ll leave. I’ll be in my room slaving over my books if anyone needs me.”

  “Polly, if you’ll measure Dena, I’ll start cutting out Emily’s slacks.” Polly smiled and picked up the tape measure. Dena stood as long as she could. She was tired. Besides, if she was to get her homework done and letters written to Brock and Susan, she needed to go to her room. “Aunt Doreen may I be excused?”

  “Of course, dear,” she glanced briefly at Dena. “We’ll come up when we’re ready to do a fitting.”

  ***

  Around three in the afternoon, the doorbell rang. Sleepily, Dena wondered who it could be— probably Mary. With that she closed her eyes.

  “Dena.” Aunt Doreen poked her head in. “You have company. Do you feel like visiting?”

  “Yes,” she answered drowsily. Shortly she heard male voices and Emily’s happy tones from downstairs. She stepped quickly to the mirror. Her navy sweater complimented the navy and green plaid mid-calf skirt. Should she change her clothes and brush her hair before going down? She looked into the mirror for one final check. Walking slowly, wiping her nose, she smiled; she felt good about herself.

  Dena quickly stepped into the kitchen to see how the sewing projects were coming along. She wiped at her nose again. She just wanted a moment to get herself composed. She needed to know if Clay was in the group. Listening, she heard his voice.