Suddenly Mrs. Rasmussen, the lookout, tensed and held up the palm of her hand as a signal to her friends behind her.
‘He’s comin’! Get ready!’ she whispered.
‘Open the door! An’ the minute he comes up the steps, give the son-of-a-bitch all you got!’ Mrs. Feeley ordered from her throne aloft.
They heard his steps, then Mrs. Rasmussen threw open the door and started belaboring the tall, blond young man clad in an expensive camel’s-hair topcoat. Mrs. Feeley heaved the bucket of water right in his face, and Miss Tinkham hit him repeatedly on the shins with the plumber’s friend. The young man was muscular and clearly not a bit appreciative of his reception. He brushed Mrs. Rasmussen off the steps with one sweep of an arm and shoved Miss Tinkham aside with the other.
‘For Crissakes,’ he addressed Mrs. Feeley, ‘what the hell do you call this? What’s the score, Sister?’ He finished mopping his face and his nice fair hair. He looked pretty mad about the state of his new coat.
‘Let that be a lesson to you not to come botherin’ people ringin’ doorbells three an’ four times when folks is takin’ their Sunday nap!’ Mrs. Feeley shouted at him.
‘Say, you’re off the beam, Sister! I never touched no bell! I just this minute come up the walk—you had the door open and started shellackin’ me before I even had a chance to look for a bell! What’s the big idea?’
‘Well, some punk’s been ringin’ our bell all afternoon so we couldn’t sleep, an’ we was layin’ for him—an’ it looks like you got it! What you want, if you wasn’t prankin’?’ she demanded.
‘They told me this was where Darleen lives.’
‘What you want of her?’ Mrs. Feeley asked suspiciously.
‘I don’t see as it’s any of your business,’ the young man replied.
‘We’re makin’ it our business,’ Mrs. Rasmussen said, picking herself up from the ground.
‘We are very particular about the background of Darleen’s associates—we demand to know who you are!’ Miss Tinkham announced haughtily.
The young man grinned in spite of himself.
‘I’m Johnny,’ he said simply.
‘Jesus, Joseph, and Mary!’ Mrs. Feeley cried. ‘Now we gone an’ done it! C’mon in, boy!’
She dragged him by the coat-sleeve. Mrs. Rasmussen and Miss Tinkham ran to fetch towels and a coat-hanger to hang up his nice coat to dry. As they went to the rear of the house, they noticed that Old Timer very quietly slipped off the day-bed and went out the back door. What they did not notice was a long piece of twine hanging from the cowbell—the other end of that piece of twine had been tied securely to Old Timer’s big toe all afternoon as he lay on the day-bed. Judging by his expression, the faun had enjoyed his afternoon.
Before Darleen returned from the Sanitarium with the children, Johnny had heard the story of how the ladies became acquainted with her. Mrs. Feeley decided that he was a real nice boy because he did not seem to hold his somewhat rugged reception against them. After he had been comforted with beer, he remarked that Darleen was in good hands. Miss Tinkham said he looked like Adonis, and Mrs. Rasmussen asked her what show they had seen him in.
With her usual indirection Mrs. Feeley hinted: ‘Ain’t no use to hem an’ haw about the bush! What you aimin’ to do about Darleen?’
Not in the least taken aback, Johnny replied that he was going to marry her if he had to give her knock-out drops to do it. It appeared that during Johnny’s sojourn in a hospital in India after his ship had been sunk, he had spent a good deal of time in thought. Since he was a realist, he had sense enough to know that one could not have everything.
‘I lain there studyin’, an’ I says: “Godwin,” I says, “Time you knocked off this mullarkey an’ settled down! All dames is a gamble to some extent! An’ I believe Darleen will play the game straight with you, if she knows you’re playin’ straight with her!” When a man’s floatin’ aroun’ in that oily water, he’s gotta have somethin’ besides just a board to cling to!’
‘Oh, my dear!’ Miss Tinkham breathed, ‘how perfectly romantic! It’s just as we have maintained all along: each of us must have someone in whom to believe!’
‘She’s a fine girl—clean an’ neat as a pin! Some days she takes as many as two baths!’ Mrs. Rasmussen wanted Johnny to know what he was getting.
‘She is a likable kid,’ Mrs. Feeley agreed. ‘Only one thing, boy! I gotta say it: a wild goose don’t lay no tame eggs!’
‘I know it,’ Johnny agreed, nodding his blond head solemnly. ‘But I says, “Godwin,” I says, “you can afford to forget a coupla little incidents in your own life! An’ you can do as much for Darleen.” I’m hopin’ to rub all that out, an’ start clean from scratch—if she’ll have me! I figger once I got that weddin’ ring on her, an’ she has a nice marriage certificate to hang over her bed, an’ gets her money-orders an’ mail all addressed to Mrs. Johnny Godwin, it’ll sure make a lot of difference! Maybe I’m wrong, but I think it’ll work!’
‘Gawd, it had oughta work!’ Mrs. Feeley exploded.
‘Lookit all them Navy wives,’ Mrs. Rasmussen said. ‘You sure would be surprised at how many o’ them is true!’
‘Yeah,’ Johnny agreed. ‘An’ it would be easier for us, in a way! Because the minute my ship hits port, I says, “Godwin,” I says, “you’re goin’ home, you are!” I ain’t waitin’ for my section to have the liberty or get permission to go on leave! I can hop on a train an’ go home to see my wife without waitin’ for no by-your-leave from nobody! If I wanna skip one cruise, I can—then sign on for the next thing goin’ out, if I’m a mind to. Godwin ain’t takin’ orders from nobody!’
The ladies were vastly impressed by the intestinal fortitude of the merchantmen.
‘I sure like your coat,’ Mrs. Rasmussen said.
‘Yeah, but I was took!’ Johnny said. ‘You know what got me? That hand-stitchin’ on them welts round the edge! Set me back a hundred bucks, that coat.’
‘Reckon you could support Darleen all right, at that rate,’ Mrs. Feeley fished.
‘You said that right,’ Johnny replied modestly. ‘I make three hundred and seventy-five dollars a month without the bonus. I reckon she can get by on that!’
The ladies were speechless. Mrs. Rasmussen got him some more beer and a snack. She decided that the ladies had better be dressed and ready to clear out and leave Darleen a clear field with Johnny when she got back. One by one they slipped off and got dressed, so that Johnny would not notice. They certainly did not want to appear crass about anything. Mrs. Rasmussen was the first to get dressed, and soon her companions joined her.
‘Yessir!’ Johnny said, ‘I got to thinkin’ when I was floatin’ in that water about how good hamburgers smell, an’ how fresh popcorn an’ beer go together, an’ how good Darleen’s skin feels: soft as a she-mouse’s belly! An’ I says, “Godwin,” I says, “when we get to South Africa next time, you’re gonna buy Darleen a fine big di’mond for a engagement ring!” An’ I did.’
He reached into the pocket of his vest and pulled out a small wad of tissue paper. As he unrolled it, the ladies went goggle-eyed at the sight of a beautiful blue-white diamond that weighed nearly two carats.
‘Cheap as dirt over there,’ Johnny said. ‘But she sure as hell better not ever try to hock it! ’Cause we’d all go to jail! It ain’t a registered stone!’
The ladies were entranced by the bauble. Darleen was a fool for luck, and they devoutly hoped she knew it.
‘Hope you don’t mind us shovin’ off,’ Mrs. Feeley apologized around five o’clock, ‘but we gotta go somewheres that we can’t get out of!’
‘One of those long-standing previous engagements,’ Miss Tinkham seconded, catching right on.
Mrs. Rasmussen fixed two bowls of bread and milk for the children and left them ready on a tray. Darleen would have other fish to fry when she saw what was waiting for her in the Ark, or Johnny wasn’t the man she thought he was, Mrs. Rasmussen smiled to herself.
�
�Help yourself to the beer an’ the radio! There’s stuff in the icebox if you get hungry,’ she said to Johnny.
He promised to make himself at home; he enjoyed just being in a house again. The ladies hastened to get out before Darleen’s return. After all he’d been through, he certainly did not want a bunch of old hens gandering over his shoulder when he greeted his girl.
‘Y’ain’t young but once!’ Mrs. Feeley said as they went out the gate. ‘Just where the hell are we goin’?’
Miss Tinkham knew where there was a technicolor movie with lots of singing in it that they could see for fifteen cents.
‘We better see it, then,’ Mrs. Feeley agreed, ‘’cause we can’t get crocked tonight an’ give our blood tomorra!’
In the excitement of Johnny’s visit, the ladies had nearly forgotten the blood-bank. The movie was fun—all about the Gay Nineties, with plenty of the songs that the ladies loved. When they came out of the show, Mrs. Feeley demanded a beer, blood-bank or no blood-bank.
‘All them waiters guzzlin’ them big schooners o’ beer made me thirsty—reckon we’ve stayed away long enough?’ she asked.
‘Sure!’ Mrs. Rasmussen said, and they returned to the Ark.
Johnny and Darleen were sitting decorously in the big rockers when the ladies came in. Darleen looked happy, although a little nervous and self-conscious. The residents of the Ark kissed them both and began to ask questions about the wedding. Johnny said he was going to have the diamond mounted first thing in the morning—then they were going to Yuma in a taxi to get married. The ladies were impressed by the idea of a taxi all the way to Yuma. The merchant marine was not chinchy. Mrs. Feeley told them to be sure to come back to the Ark for a little wedding supper when they got back to town. Of course, it would not be in the class with Katy and Danny’s wedding, but it was an occasion, and therefore not to be taken lightly.
‘An’ don’t you worry none about the kids,’ Mrs. Rasmussen said; ‘we’ll take ’em off your hands.’
‘Where you aimin’ to stay tonight?’ Mrs. Feeley asked Johnny.
‘At the hotel,’ he said.
Mrs. Feeley studied Darleen’s face.
‘You goin’ with him?’ she asked, striving to take the long view of the situation.
Johnny answered for her: ‘Have you forgot already what I said about startin’ from scratch? We ain’t jumpin’ no gun!’ he stated definitely.
‘Well!’ Mrs. Rasmussen sank into a chair. She herself believed in the miracle of the bell and the book, and it looked as though it were about to work again.
For once in her life Mrs. Feeley was bereft of comment.
Miss Tinkham was moved to recite:
‘She whom you loved and chose is now your bride,
The gift of heaven, and to your trust consigned;
Honor her still, though not with passion blind;
And in her virtue, though you watch, confide.’
The company approved that sentiment—but somehow Mrs. Feeley did not think that Darleen would need watching any more. The look on her face was different already—a glint of pride in her eyes that bespoke her new dignity, the importance of the new estate to which she had been called. Darleen’s wifehood would not sit lightly on her shoulders.
Johnny decided it was time for him to go and let the ladies get some rest. ‘Johnny Godwin ain’t forgettin’! You sure made one fine little woman outa her!’
The ladies snorted, and Mrs. Feeley spoke for them all: ‘Listen, son: there couldn’t be no fine women without fine men!’
Chapter 11
‘IT SURE AS HELL never rains but it pours!’ Mrs. Feeley fumed as she got dressed to go to the blood-bank Monday morning. Mrs. Rasmussen was preparing for the boarders who were to appear that evening and Miss Tinkham had unearthed the wedding-bell and was refurbishing it a bit for Darleen and Johnny.
‘Startin’ a boardin’-house, an’ givin’ blood, an’ a weddin’ all underfoot in the same day! An’ beer practically ex-stink in this town!’ she fretted, as they climbed into the truck.
Darleen and Johnny had left early for Yuma—they decided that the diamond ring could wait. Pierpont and Myrna were playing Jap Prisoner with Old Timer: that should hold them.
‘All this haste an’ hurry’s gonna make boils in my blood,’ Mrs. Feeley said as the ladies entered the Red Cross building. They were a little nervous, but the nurses soon put them at ease; before they knew it, the whole thing was over.
‘Gawd! You mean that’s all there is to it?’ Mrs. Feeley exclaimed.
The nurse nodded. However, she did insist that the ladies lie down for a while before starting home. They refused the milk and orange juice that the nurse offered them, but did eat a few of the cookies. Mrs. Rasmussen was in a hurry to get home: she had six beers put back against just such a day. Miss Tinkham was eager to finish the wedding-bell.
‘Now, Miss Tinkham, you mark the date down careful!’ Mrs. Feeley instructed. ‘We’ll go back in eight weeks, right on the dot—an’ what’s more, we’ll take six guys with us or know the reason why!’
‘That ain’t no lie,’ Mrs. Rasmussen agreed.
In eight weeks her body-builders would have shown results. Her amber eyes were glowing as she thought of the lovely pin she could soon hope to wear! Scraped raw beef! That’s what her boarders needed! Those poor lily-livered guys would be so full of vitality that they would not recognize themselves after a few weeks of the Rasmussen Rejuvenating Diet.
The ladies decided that it was not necessary to lie down and rest as the nurse suggested: after two beers and some cheese and crackers, the trio got busy. Mrs. Feeley fixed the table and sent Miss Tinkham to town for some red oilcloth to make a cover for it. Mrs. Rasmussen was making the Yorkshire pudding to bake with the roast.
About two o’clock Mrs. Rasmussen let out a yell. Mrs. Feeley came running from the yard, where she had been looking for boards to make benches.
‘We plumb forgot the children!’ Mrs. Rasmussen was conscience-stricken. They ran to the shed and released them. The Jap Prisoners were hungry, but still happy with the game.
‘Gawd! We’re as bad as them people that went off to work every day an’ left that boy locked up in the trailer down by the Destroyer Base!’ Mrs. Feeley reproached herself.
Mrs. Rasmussen gave the children an extra-nice lunch, then took them out to the trailer for their nap.
Miss Tinkham came back with the oilcloth and a roll of crêpe paper to patch the wedding-bell.
‘Do you suppose it will make any difference?’ she asked, holding up the roll of paper. ‘Lavender was the only color they had left!’
Mrs. Feeley grinned and said she thought not.
Miss Tinkham had stopped at the Triangle Liquor Store, where one of her friends let her have four bottles of beer. She displayed the loot proudly.
‘Dribs an’ dabs, though!’ Mrs. Feeley mourned. ‘To think that I should live to see the day when you have to inwiggle anybody into lettin’ you have four bottles o’ beer!’
Mrs. Rasmussen nodded sadly and said she was going to fix a separate icebox for the beer. She did not know her boarders very well yet, and was taking no chances on one of them snagging off one of their precious bottles.
Miss Tinkham had finished the wedding-bell. It looked pretty with the new little lavender ruffles.
‘But, dear me!’ she sighed, ‘what a contrast between this wedding and dear Danny and Katy’s!’
‘Hmpf!’ Mrs. Feeley said. ‘It takes more than four bare legs in a bed to make a weddin’ like theirs!’
Promptly at six, the assorted young men trooped shyly into the Ark. The air was laden with the odor of roast beef and Yorkshire pudding. The boarders sniffed and smiled at each other. Nearly every one of them carried a little paper bag with a few bottles of beer in it.
‘Now just make yourselves at home while we dishes up!’ Mrs. Feeley said grandly, after Oscar had introduced the men to the ladies.
Jasper turned on the radio and Miss Tinkham car
ried in a plate of Mrs. Rasmussen’s appetizers.
‘These will go beautifully with your beer, in case you care for a glass before dinner,’ she suggested.
The young men thought that was a fine idea and poured beer for all hands. The appetizers were made of finely chopped raw beef mixed with hot green Mexican peppers, raw onion, and Worcestershire sauce. The men practically fought for the blood-building mixture.
‘Chow down!’ Mrs. Rasmussen shouted, and the six men took their places at the table.
‘What about you ladies?’ Oscar asked.
‘We’ll eat after! Right now we gotta fill you guys up!’ the chef replied.
Mrs. Rasmussen had wisely served the plates at the stove, insuring a fair share to everyone.
‘Now don’t you lemme find a scrap on them plates!’ she admonished, as she set the hot plates of rare roast beef and golden quivering squares of Yorkshire pudding in front of the hungry men.
Kale cooked with onions, and a casserole of scalloped rutabaga turnips accompanied the meat. Mrs. Feeley hovered about pouring beer into their glasses. Mrs. Rasmussen suppressed a grin as she watched her divide one bottle between two men, while at the same time her foot rolled a full bottle under the table for future reference. The boarders would not notice a little minor filching—they were too busy snatching hot whole-wheat walnut rolls off the bread tray as Mrs. Rasmussen passed it. When the boarders were on their seconds and beginning to slow down a little, the chef passed a huge wooden salad bowl to each in turn.
‘Seven kinds o’ greens in that salad! Don’t lemme catch none o’ you passin’ it by!’
Small danger, as the rabbit fodder was practically concealed by the chunks of Roquefort and slivers of salami in the salad dressing. Even men who never ate salads came back for three helpings.
High Time Page 12
