by Janet Beard
***
JUNE WALKER CREPT up on Sam. The affair began spontaneously and was certainly motivated by lustful, animalistic instincts. That had been surprising enough, and at first he’d worried about leading her on, hurting her. But what was more shocking was his own desire, day after day, to see her. As the fog of his bodily desires began to lift, he realized that he enjoyed her company. In a simple way he wasn’t sure he’d ever experienced before, her presence made him happy. Not only was he attracted to her, but he liked her. She was kind and thoughtful. He had trusted her almost immediately and felt comfortable with her, too, as though he’d known her forever. He found himself daydreaming in the lab, looking forward to seeing her after work, even wondering what she was up to at odd hours, like a lovestruck boy. It was awfully embarrassing.
She was innocent and ignorant, true, but she had an insatiable appetite for learning. He could keep her attention for hours when they were safe in the privacy of his bedroom at Charlie and Ann’s. His lectures would go on almost uninterrupted, save for her questions and occasional kisses. It didn’t matter if he was explaining nuclear physics or his family’s history in Europe. She was endlessly interested. She was clearly infatuated but also deeply curious—not just about him, but about Oak Ridge and physics and the whole world outside of East Tennessee.
Sam enjoyed playing tutor more than he liked to admit. Talking to June was something altogether different than standing by a blackboard in front of bored undergraduates, though he was aware that she was just as young as his students back in California. It wasn’t just their physical intimacy that heightened the experience. She was a blank slate; her mind was free of all but the most basic physical science she had learned in her backwoods high school. And she trusted him implicitly. She was a completely supportive audience and loyal pupil. Her eager young mind was in his hands to develop as he wished. She had opinions of her own, yes, but in these areas about which she knew so little, he found that they soon conformed to his own. He couldn’t help but recognize how much he enjoyed the power, how heady it was to have such subtle control over another person.
He told her the truth, the hard scientific facts. But of course, even science could be explained to suit certain purposes, and his lessons were always peppered with commentary on his colleagues, the war, and the government. He spoke his opinions freely. He explained that in the beginning he had felt a strong sense of purpose: to build the bomb before the Germans. Most American physicists had felt this purpose; in particular, the many recent immigrants from Europe, mostly Jews who had been forced to flee Nazism. Perhaps in the face of such an undeniably evil enemy, though, they had become overly self-righteous. They thought of themselves as heroic, as doing the right thing, but he was becoming increasingly ambivalent. How could a weapon of such power be the right thing? How could more killing, undoubtedly of civilians, be heroic?
She was solemn, nodding and watching him closely with her big gray eyes. He had to give her credit; she was independent-minded enough to follow his thinking past the patriotic propaganda that surrounded them to the bigger picture of how atomic weapons could change (or, God forbid, destroy) the world.
He enjoyed spilling out his thoughts to her, holding her warm body against his, the sympathy of her mind and touch. He felt he was helping her, that with his help, June would be transformed for the better. After all, only a few months ago she had been destined to be a farmer’s wife in the middle of nowhere. Already he had opened her mind to ideas she could never have dreamed before.
She was transforming him in her own way as well. He hadn’t bothered buying Homer’s moonshine in a month. He was spending more and more time with June, and he knew she didn’t like to see him drink too much. Besides, with her there, he didn’t feel the need to be drunk to enjoy himself; she was distraction and entertainment enough.
They certainly didn’t spend all their time talking about physics. It was impossible for him to stay focused on any topic for more than fifteen or so minutes before the impulse to touch her became too great. They’d start necking, sitting chastely beside each other on his bed, then move on to heavier petting as arms became involved and clothes removed. A few weeks passed before they made love for a second time after that first frenzied encounter. It was difficult to find the privacy, for one thing. He wasn’t allowed into June’s dorm, and obviously he couldn’t let on to Charlie and Ann that he was having his way with a teenage girl in their house. The first Saturday June was working the night shift and Charlie and Ann would be gone for the day, he shamelessly invited her over and they spent the afternoon together, naked for the most part, in bed.
He remembered that he had once found her plain, and it surprised him how attractive she had become to him. It was true that she did not possess the glamour of her roommate, that she lacked striking Hollywood-style good looks. Her face was expressive, though; her features delicate, the set of her jaw firm. He found her most beautiful when all her makeup was off. The natural fleshy pink of her lips aroused him, and her face without makeup was almost more naked than her body without clothes. Seeing her without lipstick was truly intimate; he knew no other man got to see those soft lips nude.
Pretty quickly he gave up worrying about the morality of the whole thing and flung himself into the affair. The one worry that they both shared was getting pregnant. June seemed to have no qualms about sleeping with him, other than the fact that she realized having his baby could be disastrous. He reassured her that he would do his best to prevent this, which mostly meant finding creative ways to avoid climaxing inside her. He didn’t want to ruin this poor girl’s life.
Max was the only person he could talk to about it, and even with him, it was only in vague terms. It didn’t take his friend long to notice that Sam had found someone else to spend his time with. Max took a certain pride in the relationship. “I told you!” he said when Sam first confessed the affair over beers in the canteen. “I told you to get a girlfriend, and look, you went right out and did it. I had no idea you took my advice so seriously. But I must insist you name your firstborn after me.”
“I’d prefer to avoid procreating at this point.”
“Fair enough. Well, mate, now I’m going to have to follow my own advice, aren’t I? If you’re off at the roller rink half the time with your girl, with whom shall I despise the world?”
Max treated the whole thing with good-natured mockery. Talking to Charlie and Ann about it was another matter. Ann had wanted to know every last detail after that first date. He spoke casually, but they noticed the amount of time he was spending out with her. Dinners at home became friendly interrogations. Sensing that they might not fully approve of June’s pedigree, Sam gave short, vague answers. But Ann was persistent and soon decided that June must come to dinner.
Sam knew June was nervous. It was charming the way she giggled for no reason as he told her a bit about Ann and Charlie on the way to dinner. They were holding hands, walking along the boardwalk. “Charlie is the nicest guy I’ve ever met. He was everybody’s favorite at Princeton, always hosting parties, always buying rounds of drinks. Finding out he was here was a lifesaver when I first arrived.”
June giggled. “Where are they from?”
“Boston.”
“And they’re both your age?”
“Yes, we’re all terribly old.”
“Oh, no! I’m terribly young.”
“You’re lovely.” He had to stop talking and walking momentarily to kiss her.
When they finally pulled apart, Sam repeated, “You are lovely, June Walker. And I’m sure they will love you.”
When they walked into the house, Charlie greeted them in the living room. He shook June’s hand vigorously, and she giggled. Sam wished that tonight of all nights they could drink with dinner. He lit a cigarette instead.
He and June sat on the sofa, Charlie across from them. “So, June, you grew up around here?”
“Yes, over near Maryville.”
“And your family has a farm?”<
br />
She nodded.
“What do you grow?” Sam found it touching that Charlie was trying so hard.
“Oh, a little of everything. Corn and wheat mostly. And we have cattle, of course.”
“That must have been a lovely way to grow up, surrounded by nature.”
Before June could answer, Ann appeared from the kitchen. She was perfectly dressed, as usual, in a navy suit and apron.
“Hello, June!” Ann shook June’s hand as well. “It’s so nice to finally meet you.”
“You, too.” June’s voice was soft, and Sam hoped she was holding up. The evening had only just begun.
“If you’re all ready to eat, we can move to the table.”
Ann had gone all out and set the table with the fancy lace tablecloth and candles.
She brought out pork chops with some sort of spicy applesauce, green beans, roasted potatoes, and rolls. As usual, her food and its presentation were excellent. She pulled off every dinner party, despite rationing. In fact, Sam suspected she enjoyed showing off her ability to work around the rations. She even saved her leftover cooking fat for the Boy Scouts, who had regular drives in Oak Ridge to collect fat for war glycerin production. The perfect picture of a wartime housewife.
“So how did you two meet, anyway?” Charlie asked, piercing beans with his fork.
“We work in the same place,” Sam said.
Charlie smiled. “And of course you can’t say any more than that. Are you enjoying working in Oak Ridge, June?”
“Oh, yes. It’s great fun here. I miss my family, of course, but there’s so much to do, things I could never have imagined on the farm.”
Ann nodded sympathetically.
“But you must have been here much longer than me. How do you find living here?”
“Oh, besides the mud?” Ann laughed. She went on in a hesitant tone: “We like it. It was a big change for us, too, and when we got here things were much more . . . primitive than they are now. It seems like a fun place for a young person, though.”
“Well, we have fun, too!” Charlie said. “Ann and I are on a bowling team.”
“And I sing in a choir.”
“And you have your woman’s group.”
“I find people here . . . very open. You know, they’re from all over, all backgrounds, and everyone seems so ready to reach out and make friends, experience new things.”
“You make it sound like summer camp,” Sam said, shoveling potatoes onto his plate.
“Well, in some ways it is.”
“Yes, top secret, wartime summer camp.”
Ann rolled her eyes at him and turned back to June. “So you grew up on a farm, June?”
Sam winced to hear the conversation returning to this old material. But June managed to get through all right. She seemed to relax as the meal went on, and by the time Ann brought out apple pie, she’d completely stopped giggling. The good thing about dinner without drinks was that there was no excuse to linger when it was over, so Sam was able to initiate the good-byes and usher her out the door without too much fuss.
At first they walked toward her dorm in silence. Finally June spoke. “They’re very nice.”
“Yes, they are nice people.”
“The food was delicious.”
“Ann’s a great cook. I hope you weren’t on the spot too much there.”
“Oh, no. I just hope they liked me.”
“Of course they liked you.” And again he had to stop talking and walking momentarily to kiss her neck.
Ann had gone on to bed when Sam got back, but Charlie was in the living room, smoking and reading. He looked up as Sam walked in and slammed his book shut. “She’s lovely, Sam! I think you make a swell couple.”
“Thanks, Charlie.” He took off his coat and sat across from his friend, settling back into the sofa and lighting his own cigarette. “You know I have no idea what I’m doing.”
“Well, she makes you happy, right? That’s the most important thing.” Charlie settled back into the sofa as if to indicate that he had issued his judgment on the matter and that was that.
It was a few days before Sam heard Ann’s judgment. It was early evening, and Charlie was out. She had made tea for the two of them and they were listening to the news bulletin on the radio. Sam turned it off when the news finished and a Western came on. “Are you meeting June tonight?” she asked.
“No, she’s on the night shift. I’ll see her for breakfast.”
“So it’s quite serious between you two, isn’t it?”
Sam shrugged, already not liking where this was going.
“I mean, you spend an awful lot of time together.” Ann’s tone was not altogether pleasant.
“She’s a sweet girl.”
Ann said nothing, but raised an eyebrow. Sam, who had hardly ever had a negative thought about Ann, found himself becoming angry. “What?”
“Nothing.”
“It’s seems like there’s something you want to say.”
Ann spoke carefully. “She’s very young.”
“She’s eighteen.”
“Are you planning on marrying her?”
“I don’t know! We hardly just met.”
Ann clenched her jaw for a moment, then spoke quickly. “This is quite a job, you know. Being the wife of a professor or researcher. There is entertaining to be done, people you have to know how to impress and talk to. Do you think she’s prepared for this life? Has she had the adequate education?”
Sam saw what she was getting at. He instantly recoiled at her snobbery, though of course he had had similar thoughts about June from the beginning. “She’s smart, Ann! I’ve been teaching her science, and I’ll venture she understands more about physics than you now.”
“That may very well be true, but does she know how to discuss Freud or Trotsky at a dinner party? Look, Sam, I like her! I wouldn’t be saying this if I didn’t like her; then I would just let you go on and do what you wanted.” Ann’s cheeks were flushed. The effort of this aggression, so unnatural to her, was clearly painful. She continued in a softer voice. “She’s clearly in love with you. When you make a young girl fall in love with you, you have certain obligations to her. Especially if . . .”—she recoiled as though the phrase were lemon juice in her mouth—“you take her to bed.” Now that she had got it out, Ann looked proud and defiant.
Sam felt too violated by this intrusion into his private life to think hard about what she was saying. “If that’s all, I think I’m going to go out for a walk now.”
He walked for twenty minutes before the black rage lifted enough for him to begin to think straight. How dare she, how dare she! He went over and over her words. The nerve of it! He was a grown man, and she was not his mother. She had no right to speak to him like that. Who he took to bed was his business, though he did worry how she had known that. Did she know for sure or had she just made the assumption? Had he not been quiet enough when June was over? It was too horrible to think about for long, so he returned to hating Ann. Privileged, perfect Ann. She’d been born knowing who Freud was, no doubt. She’d never done anything inappropriate in her life and now felt compelled to pounce on him for this one possible folly. Charlie was such a good guy; Charlie didn’t judge him. Who did she think she was?
Inevitably, he wound up at the canteen. Max wasn’t there, so he drank by himself, stewing in his own anger, his sense of having been wrongfully accused overwhelming enough that he didn’t stop for a moment to consider that she might be right.
(Courtesy of the Department of Energy)
(Courtesy of the Department of Energy)
Chapter 13
WITH SPRING CAME WINDS THAT SWEPT HAZY CLOUDS OF DUST through town. Anything left outside quickly became coated with it, and children wrote messages in the windows of parked cars with their fingers. You couldn’t walk a block without getting covered in a fine film of red dirt, and Cici had learned the hard way not to attempt wearing anything white.
Nevertheless, Tom had been s
o insistent that she agreed to go on a walk. Some dirt in her eyes was a small sacrifice—after all, Cici had found her husband. Tom hadn’t proposed yet, but she felt confident that he would soon. Married soldiers couldn’t live with their wives in Oak Ridge anyway, so there was no need to tie the knot yet. But the boy was crazy for her, and was he ever a catch! Tom was handsome in a lanky way, with sandy hair and a long face. His father managed a bank, and when he reminisced about his childhood, he casually tossed off sentences like “my sister fell off her pony,” “the cook had forgotten the sugar!” or “it was my last summer at our Newport house.” He was bitter that the war had meant that he hadn’t gotten to spend the summer before he went to Yale in Europe as his older brother had.
The big worry, of course, was that he would see through her fake pedigree. But she had gotten by so far with vague answers about her background, and Tom seemed to assume like most everyone else that she was a southern belle. No one wanted to think a pretty girl was poor. She told him that she was an orphan, which solved the problem of her parentage. His questions had led to the invention of an aunt who had raised her—Aunt Faye, whom Cici had become used to casually referencing in conversation until Faye almost didn’t seem like a lie.
She implied that her family had once had money, but it had mostly been lost during the Depression. It was surprising how easily the stories came. “Father, rest his soul, wasn’t a practical man,” she heard herself saying as Tom helped her across a dried-up mud puddle. “I mean, I never got to know him myself. But that’s what Aunt Faye always says. Bit of a dreamer. Always chasing after harebrained schemes, you know. I don’t know the details, but I think he lost a pile in the crash.”
“We did, too,” said Tom. Cici had to stop from rolling her eyes at the thought of all the money the poor Wolcotts had lost in ’29, and then no doubt promptly made back.
“It’s been a struggle for Aunt Faye, raising me on her own. That’s why I thought I should come out here—I know I’ve been a financial burden to her. Oh, and also to serve my country, of course.”
