‘That’s not what’s bothering you.’ Teddy set down her pen and pad on the coffee table.
‘To tell the truth, I’ve been fretting about Randy.’ Moira shrugged. ‘I tell myself he’s going to be OK. But I still fret.’
‘Do you do anything about it?’
Now that Teddy was beginning to sound like Mother, Moira was irritated. ‘You’re saying I should write more.’
‘What do you think?’
‘Well, it’s hard to write when you don’t know if a letter will get torn to shreds by the censors or lost on the way.’
‘But you know who you’re writing to and that’s what matters.’ Teddy tried to sound convincing. She picked up her tea and glanced around the living room. The house got messier with just the two of them, maybe because they weren’t so polite with each other. She liked the ease with which they circled one another’s lives. Although she missed Wanda and Ann the house felt quite full.
‘You’re right, Teddy, I’m just lazy.’
‘And a little scared.’
‘And a lot scared.’ Moira nodded. She joined Teddy on the couch. Clapping her hands, she said, ‘Hey, we never did have that party before Ann left. Let’s have a celebration in mem … in honor of Ann. We can write and tell her all about it.’
Teddy was relieved by the vitality in Moira’s eyes, but afraid to ask the next question. ‘Who do we invite?’
‘Well, let’s make it a hen party. Let’s ask Vivian and Dorothy from the yard and — yes, let’s keep it small. Now how about your friends Dawn and Sandra?’
‘I, I just don’t know,’ Teddy shook her head.
‘Social jitters?’
‘Hardly,’ said Teddy. ‘You seem to forget that crack Dorothy made last week about “colored girls.”’
‘Oh, yes, right, drop the party.’ Moira was defeated, angry at her own insensitivity and then angry at being so disappointed. What was wrong with her? In the last six months, she had lost all patience, savvy, toughness. She missed Randy terribly. And the war had done strange things to her sense of timing. Some days flew by because of overwork and obligations. Other days seemed to crawl. She was all too aware that the drama was happening elsewhere. She wasn’t imprisoned in Arizona. She wasn’t treading through a Pacific swamp. She wasn’t stepping around bomb craters in London. She was staying behind, hardly holding together the home front when she couldn’t hold together herself.
Teddy offered, ‘OK, let’s have a little supper party. Several. Let’s start with your friends. Just the four of us, that should be fine.’
‘But not just my friends.’ Moira grew more distraught. ‘I want to fill the house with life, with our lives.’
‘It isn’t full?’
‘You know what I mean, with talk and music and laughter.’
Teddy smiled at the thought of Dawn and Sandra. Snickers and chuckles and irony, maybe, but musical laughter was unlikely. Sometimes she realized that she was a little more worldly than Moira. ‘How about if I ask Jolene and Mom and Amanda some evening?’
Moira didn’t like to think she was jealous of Teddy’s family, but she couldn’t understand the weekly visits and daily telephone conversations.
‘Moira?’ Teddy smiled.
‘Yes, oh, yes, that would be nice.’
‘Your acting is better than that. I’ve seen you do Desdemona and Ophelia, not to mention Lady Macbeth.’ Her smile receded. ‘Do you mean you don’t want to have the family? They can fray a person’s nerves.’
‘Oh, it’s not that,’ Moira was remorseful. ‘I’m just a little distracted. I was thinking how different you are with your family than I am with mine.’
‘You take everything too seriously. But if you don’t want them …’
‘No, I get a kick out of all of you together. I especially like Jolene. So let’s do it.’
‘How about Friday for Vivian and Dorothy and then Sunday the following week for Mama and Jolene and Amanda — after church — say around ten o’clock?’
Moira considered her quizzically. ‘You wouldn’t care to switch that to eleven, would you? Sunday morning does arrive after Saturday night.’
‘Fine.’
Already Moira felt renewed.
Teddy sat at the piano, picking out a tune she had heard earlier that day. She hated waiting for Moira when she worked overtime at the shipyard. No telling when she would return, but more than that Teddy worried about her. Moira said she was careful and that women at the yard had less accidents than men. But Teddy had heard terrible stories about women being scalped when their hair got caught in machinery.
She swivelled to the coffee table where she had placed Wanda’s letter. They hadn’t heard from Wanda in weeks and she was dying to open it. But that didn’t feel right, since it was addressed to both of them. Moira would probably open it, but Teddy thought these letters from Wanda and Ann were like meals, more enjoyable when you shared them. Maybe that was why Moira called her romantic. Teddy reddened; that must be it.
Teddy turned back to the piano, but it was a silly tune and she was getting hungry. She walked into the kitchen, pulled out the hamburger meat and plopped it in a pan. Then she turned on the water to boil for spaghetti. Teddy had to admit one of the pleasurable things about being left with Moira was that they each had simple, complementary appetites. The sizzling and smell of the hamburger brought back camp trips with Hank and Arthur. Out in the woods, they’d camp for days at a time, tracking each other, pretending to be old-time Cherokees. Exhausted at night, they would lie around the campfire telling ghost stories and cooking beans. The world was full of peace away from Pop’s drinking and Mom’s worrying. Now she opened the Del Monte tomato sauce and rinsed the container, thinking they wouldn’t have these tins much longer. She would have to plant a very serious garden this spring. How could she do that without Ann’s devotion and Angela’s kibbutzing? Stirring the red sauce into the beef, she breathed deeply. The savory aroma conjured feelings of one evening when she had fixed this dish for Angela.
Dawn kept reassuring her that Angela cared despite the absence of letters. She reminded her that poor women didn’t telephone from Texas if they weren’t making an investment. Teddy hoped Dawn was right. She wished she had more people to talk to about Angela. Maybe she would feel less critical of good old Randy if she could talk to Moira about her own heart. How would Moira take it? Either she would be completely blasé or she would become Zazu Pitts, flinging her arms and screaming. The front door slammed.
‘Hello, anybody home?’ Moira was obviously in a good mood.
Teddy thought she would postpone the romance discussion a while longer.
‘Fabulous.’ Moira burst into the kitchen. ‘Baked spaghetti, my favorite. Good thing we don’t have to deal with those two old fogies. You and me, kid, and our baked spaghetti. Hey.’ She held up the letter she had found in the living room. ‘Waiting for me, eh?’
‘Well, yes.’ Teddy spoke hesitantly, unclear if she were being criticized or praised.
‘The soul of honor, kid.’ Moira put her hand on Teddy’s shoulder.
‘Open the letter.’ Teddy laughed.
‘OK, OK, just a second. I always need a couple of breaths before a new reading, to check my wind and center my mind.’ She sat down at the table, putting her hard hat on a chair.
Teddy stared at the battered white hat with the big ‘Moira’ painted on the front. After all these months, it was still odd to think of Moira in a hard hat.
Moira cleared her throat and began.
Dear Moira and Teddy,
How are you? I’m doing a little better. Things are pretty much the same, but different. Having a sister-in-law, for instance. Ever since Howard and Carolyn’s wedding, I’ve been telling myself that I have a sister-in-law. Gradually, I have come to believe it. Actually, during the last month, Carolyn and I have become very good friends.
>
Teaching is going well. Mrs W. and I seem to have reached an understanding. I work with the older kids and she sticks with the younger ones. I hate to admit how much I enjoy teaching. I keep telling myself, over and over, like a refrain, that I am a writer, writer, writer, writer. But I must admit there are a lot of immediate rewards in teaching and few enough rewards in writing about the dreary conditions of this weatherbeaten camp for magazines that are going to reject my article. Maybe I should stick to letters because I do get answers.
The landscape here seems to rob your senses. The terrain is dry and bleak and grey and beige. The weather is still relentlessly hot. The night sounds are eerie. I feel like I’ve lost the impulse to see and touch and taste and hear. I worry about losing my other sense, too, my ‘good sense’ as you would call it, Teddy. I feel like I’m experiencing everything second hand, either because I’m too dulled to feel it directly or because I’m too frightened. This is all a lot of ranting and raving, the last thing you need. I understand you have your own problems, with the rationing and blackouts and longer hours at work. It’s just good to get it off my chest, you know.
‘I think she’s even more apologetic than us.’ Moira turned to Teddy who was stirring spaghetti into the meat sauce.
Teddy sprinkled cheese on top and lowered the casserole into the oven. Carefully she turned toward the window so Moira wouldn’t see the tears. Lord, she wished she could do something for Wanda. She was both looking forward to and dreading her visit to Arizona. Maybe she could still talk Moira into going with her.
The family is OK. What’s left of it. Mama seems to be coming around a bit. Betty loves the piano lessons. One thing about this camp experience is that we’ve become closer sisters. I feel like I’ve been granted another childhood. It’s fun to see things through her optimistic eyes. And she has such a bright, wry spirit that she sometimes reminds me of you, Moira.
I hear from Roy once a month or so. I guess you hear from Howard as much as we do, Teddy. He says he is really enjoying your letters, keeping him in touch with San Francisco happenings.
Moira frowned at Teddy. ‘So that’s why you’ve been reading the newspaper so thoroughly. You’re really something.’
Teddy concentrated on sponging off the sink.
Moira continued.
I try not to worry about them. At least they have each other. The regiment has lost lots of men, you know. I still think they were crazy to enlist. Who are they fighting for when their own people are locked up? Probably part of my resentment is that I wish I also had been able to leave Arizona. I mean, it still hurts when I think about losing the scholarship. Plenty of girls wind up taking care of their families. Why am I so selfish?
Speaking of families, how are yours? Your brothers and sisters, Teddy? Hope your Mom and Pop are fine too. Do tell me about work. And the acting, Moira, do you have any parts? I got a letter from Ann the other day. I’m sure you know, she’s moving along with her usual determination. The kids seem to love her. Odd how she keeps repeating that she doesn’t plan to be a mother. I think she’d be terrific. So much more patient than I’d be.
Do write when you can. And thanks for the pioneer parcels. I don’t know what Betty would do without that gum. It’s one of her biggest trumps in the popularity game here. Mama really appreciated the soap. And the fudge was divine. But remember to use your sugar rations for yourselves. I promise to be in a better mood when I next write. Meanwhile, lots of love, Wanda.
Teddy set the casserole in the center of the yellow table. She watched the hot bubbles spitting along the edge. Pouring them each a glass of water, she noticed that Moira was re-reading Wanda’s letter to herself.
‘Hi there,’ Moira said finally. ‘Sorry I’m fading tonight. But I had some good news. Vivian and Dorothy said they are looking forward to dinner.’
Teddy’s face went blank.
‘This Friday,’ continued Moira. ‘Don’t you remember, our campaign to brighten up Stockton Street?’
Teddy dug into the spaghetti. Why couldn’t Moira have waited until after supper? No, she was being ridiculous.
‘You’re losing nerve.’
‘Oh, just a little shy.’
‘You’ll love Dorothy. And you’ve already met Vivian. They both have a great sense of humor. We decided on pot-luck. Viv’s bringing salad. Dorothy’s bringing wine. And I said 7.30. Is that OK with you?’
‘Pot-luck?’ Teddy asked, betraying her uneasiness. She could hardly believe she had agreed to the evening. Would they all talk and laugh above her head? Both Vivian and Dorothy came from New York and she understood from Ann that those people could be pretty snooty.
‘Yes.’ Moira twirled spaghetti on to her fork. ‘Great supper. Let’s fix this for them.’
‘Baked spaghetti?’ Teddy winced.
‘We’re not inviting the King and Queen of Persia.’
‘Well, I don’t know what’s wrong with making them a real supper — I mean with pork chops and potatoes and vegetables. I can be clever with the ration coupons. Why make them bring something; this isn’t a church charity bazaar.’
‘No, it just makes it easier on us. Moneywise. Timewise. It’s a modern custom. Everybody does it.’
‘Everybody.’ Teddy curbed the hurt in her voice. Why was she so scared about a little supper? She was afraid of losing Moira, that was it. When Moira saw them all together, she would choose her sophisticated, married friends over her. In the last few months, with the others gone, Teddy had felt a special pressure about the house. Sometimes she was a little girl again. Once or twice she had cried when Moira left in the morning. Just a bit. Silly, but she missed her already. The slightest crease in their life petrified her. Of course Moira would get married some day. Teddy had no illusions about competing with a man, but that wouldn’t happen until the end of the war. And as much as she hated the war, as much as she mourned the loss of Ann and Wanda, she cherished her refuge with Moira. What would happen now with vivacious Vivian and mysterious Dorothy? Would Moira suggest they move into the house? Teddy noticed Moira waiting for an answer.
‘Well.’ Teddy blinked. ‘I don’t care what everyone does. I would have been happier to offer a decent meal.’
‘Decent, indecent, Teddy sometimes you kill me. Actually, you remind me of my proper Mother. Listen, they’re just friends. They’ll love your cooking. And I know they’ll love you. Vivian already does. She thinks you’re cute.’
Teddy stared at her.
‘Don’t look shocked.’ Moira wondered at Teddy’s lack of confidence. Maybe she didn’t tell her often enough how much she appreciated her.
Teddy twirled and untwirled the spaghetti. ‘OK, OK, I’m sure it will be a fine dinner, uh, I mean pot-luck.’
Moira sipped her water thoughtfully. ‘Dorothy’s husband is in the navy too. She has the same kind of worries. We had a great talk over lunch today.’
‘Good,’ Teddy nodded, taken aback by her own jealousy.
‘Have you heard anything from Virgil?’ Moira tried to rouse her friend. ‘Didn’t you say he was going to enlist this week?’
‘Yes.’ Teddy nodded. She could barely hold back the tears. ‘He got his papers today. Should be leaving on the weekend.’ Finally she put down her fork and fell to weeping.
Moira stood behind her, hugging Teddy’s thin, stiff shoulders. As they quivered and heaved, Moira realized that Teddy had been upset all night. She breathed in Teddy’s dark sweat through the lavender talcum powder. Of course, this had been a strain on her too. Of course she was worried about her brothers and Ann and Wanda and Angela. They hadn’t talked about Angela in ages. Maybe something had gone wrong there, too. Teddy was sobbing now.
Moira held her a moment longer, then, keeping one hand on Teddy’s shoulder, sat next to her friend and tried to make eye contact. She stared at the strings of blond hair dangling in Teddy’s face. Never had she seen her this un
wound. In some senses it was a relief. Moira’s eyes wandered to the spaghetti hardening in the tomato sauce. Poor Teddy. Dear Teddy. Gradually, long breaths replaced the sobs.
Teddy looked up at Moira. Suddenly she felt as if she were seven years old again, having her tonsils out. Throughout the operation, she was held together by fear. She tried to hear the nurse’s soothing words as she fitted the foul smelling ether mask. But she couldn’t so she simply continued to count backwards. She thought about her mother, who had been refused entry to the operating room.
‘Oh, my.’ Teddy withheld an apologetic laugh. She remembered how much she liked taking care of Moira and assumed the instinct was mutual. ‘It’s just that Virgil is Mom’s favorite and I don’t know what she’ll do with him away. He’s been pretty good now at keeping Pop in check. You know he could kid round with anyone. Truth is, I’ll miss the boy. Even though he’s nine years younger, he’s really my favorite. Got a sweet temperament, you know.’
‘Do I know,’ laughed Moira. ‘If he were a few years older, I’d drop Randy for him. Remember when he delivered the jams from your mother? He found me fiddling with the leaky pipe and scooted me away as if I were the Duchess of Windsor. He lay on the floor, fixing the pipe and telling me one joke after another in between commenting on my green-green eyes and admiring my red-red hair. He practically had me running off to Mexico with him. Quite a charmer, your brother. That must be the Celtic side of the Fieldings.’
‘We’ve always thought it had more to do with the Cherokee, even if we are only one-sixteenth Indian.’ Teddy grinned. ‘You know there’s a fey spirit in Indians too.’ Her face grew longer. ‘It’s selfish, I just don’t want him, of all people, to be taken. Taken, I don’t mean taken. I’m sure he’ll be OK. I mean I pray to God he’ll be safe. But you know when they drafted Arthur and Hank, it seemed more fitting. Virgil hated being the baby …’ Teddy trailed off. She picked up her fork and fiddled with the cold spaghetti. ‘It’s not my life. It’s his right. Who knows what’s right in all this mess. I’m just being selfish.’
All Good Women Page 21
