Cold War on Maplewood Street

by Gayle Rosengren

  Her classmates were so eager to put distance between them and the parts of speech, most of them charged past Joanna with barely a glance. A few of the girls shot her questioning glances, but Frannie was the only one who stopped.

  “Where’d you go? Are you okay? I was worried about you,” she said.

  Joanna’s cheeks burned. “I thought it was a real air raid. I ran home.” She rolled her eyes. “Stupid, huh?” She hung her head.

  “Not stupid. Brave!”

  “Wha—?” Joanna’s head snapped up. Was Frannie making fun of her? But no, there was real admiration on her face.

  “Before Mrs. Stubbins got around to telling us it was a drill, Sherry and a bunch of other girls started crying. All I wanted was to go home, too,” Frannie confessed. “But I was way too scared to actually do it. I was afraid I’d get hit by a bomb or something.”

  Suddenly, at the same instant, they both burst into laughter. Joanna wasn’t even sure why. It wasn’t as if bombs and air raids were funny. But, oh, did laughing feel good!

  “Miss Maxwell? Do you have something you’d like to say to me?” Mr. Egan stood in the doorway.

  The girls’ laughter died abruptly. Frannie shot Joanna a look full of sympathy and hurried after the rest of the class. Joanna gulped and said, “Yes, sir,” in a small voice.

  Mr. Egan gestured for her to come into the classroom and sit in a front desk while he leaned back against his own. “I was on my way downstairs to the office to call your mother, Joanna. I was worried about you. Mrs. Stubbins says you left the classroom without permission and then left school grounds completely during the air-raid drill.” Mr. Egan shook his head. “Those are very serious offenses, Joanna. What do you have to say for yourself?”

  Joanna bit her lip. “I did leave . . . but only because I didn’t realize it was a drill. I thought it was a real air raid, and I wanted to be with my dog and—”

  Mr. Egan raised a hand to stop her. He was frowning. “Mrs. Stubbins didn’t tell your class there would be a drill?”

  Joanna shook her head. “No, sir. So when the bell rang, we all got really scared. But I got the most scared of all, I guess, and all I could think was that I wanted to be home.”

  “I see,” Mr. Egan said quietly. He looked at her for a long moment, but with an expression more thoughtful than angry. “Why do you suppose you were more frightened than the other girls?” he asked finally.

  Joanna’s voice came very softly. “I don’t know.” She traced a heart carved into the wooden desktop with her finger, unable to meet her teacher’s gaze.

  Mr. Egan was silent for what seemed like a long time. Finally he said, “Your brother is the young sailor, right?”

  Joanna pressed harder on the carving, but she looked up to say, “Yes.”

  Mr. Egan tugged on his purple striped tie, making it crooked as well as ugly. “I imagine you’re worried about him.”

  “Yes.” Joanna wrote S-A-M inside the heart with her fingertip.

  “Have you talked to your mother about your fears, Joanna?”

  “A little,” she said. “But she’s so brave herself, she doesn’t understand. She tells me everything will be fine and not to worry.”

  Mr. Egan walked around to the back of his desk and sat down. “I think we can overlook this incident in light of the extenuating circumstances and your fine behavior in the past, Joanna. But I want you to make me a promise.”

  She forgot the heart and looked up at him. Anything!

  “I want you to promise me that you’ll tell your mother what you did and that you’ll talk to her about your fears—and really try to make her listen. Will you do that?”

  That was all? Joanna couldn’t believe it! She nodded hard. For the second time in less than an hour she said, “I promise.”

  • • •

  “And that was it?” Pamela said. “No punishment at all?”

  “That was it.” Joanna shuffled her feet through the leaves that were ankle deep under the maple tree in the middle of their block. “I couldn’t believe it.”

  “Wow, he’s way nicer than he looks,” Pamela said.

  “Mmmhmmm,” Joanna agreed. “Just like Mrs. Strenge.”

  “I can’t believe you actually went into her apartment!” Pamela marveled. “I would’ve been way too scared.”

  “It turns out Mom was right. I was letting my imagination run away with me.” Joanna laughed. “But it was sort of fun, wasn’t it?”

  Pamela grinned. “Yeah. I’m gonna miss all the creepy stories we imagined about her.” She frowned. “Hey, there’s our car. Dad’s home early. I hope he didn’t catch the flu. He was just saying the other day that it’s been going around the high school like wildfire.” She made a face and started up the front stairs. “Guess I’d better go up and see.”

  “I was thinking we could take Dixie for a long walk today,” Joanna called after her. “Want to?”

  Pamela turned around. “Can I hold the leash?”

  Joanna grinned. “Yes, you can hold the leash.”

  “Great! I’ll see you in a little while.” Pamela waved and trotted up the stairs.

  Joanna walked Dixie to the empty lot as usual, but then she took her straight back home. “We’re going to go for a nice long walk,” she said. “We just have to wait for Pamela, okay?” Dixie wagged her tail. Whatever Joanna said was fine with her.

  They were playing ball when the phone rang. It was Pamela. “I can’t come down today after all,” she said. “I have to stay home.”

  “Oh.” Joanna was disappointed, but curious, too. “Is your father okay? You sound funny.”

  “I have to go now, Joanna. I’ll talk to you tomorrow.” And before Joanna could even say good-bye, Pamela had hung up the phone.

  Golly, that was weird! Maybe Mr. Waterman didn’t have the flu after all. Maybe something really awful had happened—like he lost his job or he hit someone with his car or was in trouble with the police.

  Joanna stopped herself and laughed out loud. Mr. Waterman in trouble with the police? She was doing it again—letting her imagination run wild. Probably he did have the flu and Mrs. Waterman wanted Pamela to sit with him while she went to the drugstore for some medicine. And Pamela was pouting about having to stay home. That was all.

  “Looks like it’s just you and me, Dix,” Joanna said.

  But Dixie had found an old bone to gnaw on and didn’t even twitch an ear at the sound of her voice. It looked like Joanna was on her own.

  She could get an early start on her homework, she supposed. But homework reminded her of Mr. Egan and her stomach did a slow somersault. It had seemed like an easy enough promise when she made it. But now she was starting to worry. How could she explain things to Mom so she’d understand? Mom would be angry that Joanna had broken school rules.

  Joanna would have to find just the right moment to tell her.

  She wandered into the kitchen and the sight of the empty table gave her an idea. She’d have supper all ready for Mom when she came home. That would be sure to put her in a good mood. And toward the end of the meal, Joanna would make her confession.

  Pleased with her plan, she darted around the kitchen, looking over the contents of the pantry and the refrigerator. Tomorrow was grocery-shopping day, so there wasn’t a lot to choose from. But eventually she put together a better than average meal—a not-too-wilted salad, canned peaches, and tuna sandwiches—even though it meant taking back two of the cans she had stored in her closet.

  Next, Joanna set the table. She made sure to use glasses that matched and she folded the paper napkins into triangles with perfectly even edges. At the last moment, she took Mom’s little violet plant from the windowsill and set it in the center of the table. There!

  She had put bread in the toaster and was just heading into the living room to turn on the news when Mom arrived. “Oh my good
ness,” she said when she saw the table.

  Joanna grinned and dashed over to push down the button on the toaster. She’d listen to the news on her radio later. “You just sit down and relax,” she told Mom.

  Mom sat. She grinned. “You know my birthday isn’t until April, right? And Mother’s Day isn’t until May.”

  “Does it have to be a special day for me to do something nice for my mother?” Joanna said, feeling more guilty than ever.

  “Of course not. I was just teasing. You’re a darling to surprise me this way.”

  Joanna squirmed. It didn’t seem right to be praised for something she’d done for selfish reasons. Now she wished she didn’t have to tell her mother about the air-raid drill. She wished this could just be a be-nice-to-Mom dinner without any ulterior motives. But she had promised Mr. Egan.

  Mom loved the dinner. She ate every last bite of everything. The timing was never going to be better. Joanna cleared her throat. “Uh, Mom? There’s something I have to tell you.”

  Mom cocked her head expectantly. “You sound awfully serious.”

  Joanna bit her lip. “I, um, did something you’re probably not going to like.”

  Mom’s eyebrows puckered together in a tiny frown, but she looked more curious than anything. “I’m sure it can’t be anything all that awful.” She patted Joanna’s hand. “Tell me.”

  So Joanna told her mother about the air-raid drill that didn’t seem like a drill, about running home to be with Dixie, and about finding Harvey and taking him to Mrs. Strenge.

  “And after I helped her with Harvey, I realized that her radio was playing music, so there couldn’t be an attack and it must have been just another drill.” Joanna had talked so fast she had barely stopped for breath, but she took a deep one now, before she said, “That’s when I knew I was in trouble.”

  Mom’s “My goodness, Joanna!” made Joanna hurry to add, “So I rushed back to school and told Mr. Egan what I’d done, and he said I wasn’t in any trouble but that I had to promise to talk to you about how scared I’ve been feeling lately—since even before the trouble with the Russians.”

  “Oh, sweetheart,” Mom said, reaching over to touch Joanna’s cheek. “I’m sorry. I know you’ve been frightened, but I hoped if I made light of things, you’d feel better. Obviously I was wrong.” She sat back in her chair. “Can you tell me now? I promise to listen.”

  Joanna fidgeted with her fork. Now that Mom was listening, what more was there to say? “It’s just what I’ve been saying all along, I guess.” She looked at Mom sideways, too embarrassed to face her all the way. “Lately lots of things scare me. And that was even before all the war stuff started. Now I have horrible nightmares about Sam every night, too.”

  “Do you think maybe you’ve been frightened because Sam is gone?” Mom asked gently. “You’ve never been on your own so much before.”

  Joanna frowned. She knew she’d been scared more and more since Sam left, but she’d never thought of it being because he had left. “I don’t know . . . maybe . . .”

  “I know I was scared to death when your father left,” Mom confided.

  Joanna stared. “I can’t imagine you afraid of anything.”

  Mom gave a soft laugh. “I’m scared lots of times. I’ve just learned not to show it. But back then—well, I hadn’t learned much of anything yet. For days I just sat around crying and waiting for him to come back. I wouldn’t believe he was really gone. Until finally I had to. You and Sam were depending on me. So I went out and got my first job. Remember Mother Goose Nursery School?”

  “Are you kidding? I loved that place.” Joanna grinned. “They had the greatest toys.”

  Mom grinned, but then she cupped Joanna’s chin in her hand and looked right into her eyes with a suddenly serious expression. “The point is, I did what I had to do. I didn’t let my fear hold me back. Just like you didn’t when you helped Harvey and Mrs. Strenge.”

  Joanna chewed her lower lip. She understood what Mom was saying, but still . . . she didn’t feel one bit braver than she had before.

  She watched her mother stack plates and gather up silverware. As she turned to take the dirty dishes to the sink, Joanna suddenly blurted, “I just wish you weren’t going to night school.”

  Mom stopped mid-turn. “It’s not forever, Joanna. By January I’ll have my diploma and I can get a job that will pay enough to get us out of this basement and into the sunlight. You’d like that, wouldn’t you?”

  “You mean it? We might move?” Joanna was excited and scared at the same time. It would be great to live in a nicer place, but she didn’t want to leave Pamela or change schools. “Where would we go?”

  “The Camerons are talking about buying a house next spring. If they do, we might be able to rent their apartment.”

  Right next door! “That would be perfect—there’s even a backyard for Dixie.”

  It was all they talked about while they cleaned up the kitchen. The Camerons’ apartment had a sunroom like the Watermans’. Mom said it could be Sam’s room when he came home on leaves. She said it as if there wasn’t the tiniest doubt in her mind that Sam would come home safely.

  Joanna knew better since she’d found Mom asleep with Sam’s photo in her arms. Mom was just as worried about Sam as Joanna was. But staying positive and hopeful—even just pretending to—was much better than giving in to fear.

  Frannie had said that Joanna was brave to leave school when she thought they were being attacked, and Pamela had been impressed that Joanna had gone into Mrs. Strenge’s apartment. Maybe from the outside everyone looked braver than they really were. Maybe on the inside everyone was sometimes afraid, but they learned—like Mom—to do what they had to anyway. And if that was true, maybe Joanna was braver than she thought.

  Grandma called just as they finished cleaning up the kitchen. While Mom talked to her, Joanna sprawled on the couch and watched the tail end of the news on TV. There was a report about how countries were taking sides in the missile crisis. France, Germany, Britain, and a bunch more supported the United States. But a lot of others were behind the Soviet Union—China of course, but other countries, too—even Canada!

  “Protests are going on all around the world,” said the reporter, “and often the protests turn into riots . . .” Joanna cringed watching film footage of a riot outside an American embassy. People were swinging fists and sticks at one another. But the next story was the one that really put her new maybe-bravery to the test.

  “The destroyers Kennedy and Pierce”—Sam’s ship!—“teamed up today to halt and search the Marucla, a Russian-chartered freighter.

  “A boarding party was aboard the Marucla for more than two hours,” the newscaster continued, “but there were no incidents and no Russian weapons were found. This may not be the case tomorrow, however, when the Russian freighter Poltava is due to arrive in Cuban waters. Military sources say the nearly ten-thousand-ton freighter could very well be carrying nuclear missiles and is almost certainly armed . . .”

  Ten thousand tons! It must be huge. How big was the Pierce? What if this Poltava ship was like the Superman of ships—and US guns couldn’t even make a dent in it? What would happen to the Pierce and Sam then? Joanna’s whole body shook. She remembered her nightmare. She saw the side of the ship splitting open and the men disappearing under the dark waves.

  No! She wouldn’t imagine anything so terrible happening to Sam. That had been a dream. In real life Sam would be fine. He had to be.

  She opened her mouth to call to Mom that the Pierce was part of the quarantine, but she closed it before one word was out. Mom was already worried about Sam. Why add to her fears?

  Joanna looked at Sam’s picture. She hadn’t liked it because Sam didn’t look like her Sam. But the navy’s Sam looked stern and strong, like someone who could survive a battle. Like someone who could protect his country. She inhaled sharply. Was th
at what he’d meant when he said he joined the navy for her and Mom, too? Was it a way to help keep them safe? In her heart, she felt she truly understood Sam’s decision at last. “Just please, please don’t get hurt,” she whispered to the photo.

  “Dix, let’s go for a walk,” she called. She needed to keep busy or she’d go crazy imagining the worst.

  Dixie came running across the faded linoleum so fast, her paws slid out from under her and she landed on her belly, but she quickly scrambled to her feet and ran the rest of the way to the door. Joanna grinned as she snapped on the leash. “Silly dog.”

  Outside, with Dixie at her side, Joanna walked slowly, looking up at the stars and crescent moon, wondering again if maybe Sam was looking at them, too. On her way back to the house, she saw the curtains in Mrs. Strenge’s front window flutter. She waved and the curtains parted. Mrs. Strenge waved back.

  So many things had happened that day. Joanna’s head was a jumble of images and thoughts. After she hung up her jacket, instead of picking up her library book or turning the television on, she slipped off her shoes and curled up on the couch. Using her notebook as a desk, she began to write:

  Friday, October 26

  Dear Sam,

  This has been an amazing day for you and for me. For you because the Pierce stopped the Marucla. I heard it on the news. That had to be so scary! I’m glad there wasn’t any trouble. It was a scary day for me, too, because there was another air-raid drill at school, but I thought it was real. I ran home so I could be with Dixie. But when I got home I had to help our first-floor neighbor who I thought was a Russian spy or a kidnapper or something else scary and bad but who turned out to just be a nice old lady. Anyway, when I got back to school I could have been in a lot of trouble, but my teacher was nice and didn’t report me. He just made me promise to tell Mom. So I did, and we talked and I really do feel better now.

  A shadow fell over the paper and Joanna looked up. She’d been so intent on her letter that she hadn’t heard her mother come into the room. Mom sat down beside Joanna on the couch and made a big deal of clearing her throat, like people do when they have some important announcement to make. Joanna looked at her expectantly. What was up?