General Frankel, Ruby decided immediately, was an austere man. He had a ruddy complexion, which made his full head of white hair gleam like a halo. His eyes were green as grass.
The introductions over, the small group settled in and started a round of “do you remember when?” There was a lot of laughter, and after a while Ruby began to realize that these important people felt at ease in her home. They were friendly and outgoing, putting both her and Andrew at ease.
“Come over here, honey,” Janet Query said, motioning to a place on the sofa between her and the general’s wife. “Now, tell us, you didn’t go out of your way for us, did you? We remember what it was like being a lieutenant’s wife, and believe you me, the pay was a lot less back then.”
Ruby smiled. “Actually, Mrs. Query, I was going to make a fancy dinner, but it wasn’t in our budget, so what you’re getting is my prize-winning casserole.” There was no note of apology in her voice. Arlene Frankel nodded approvingly.
“They’re still doing that, eh? I won a prize for an ungodly concoction using beef jerky, but it was only third prize. I wasn’t much of a cook in those days. What did you win, my dear?”
“Would you like to see it?” Ruby asked eagerly.
She was back in a second with the little net bag that both women oohed and aahed over.
“You know, Ruby, I’ve been meaning to write and tell you that the admiral was absolutely lost without you once you left,” Mrs. Query said. “He had six secretaries from the time you left until he retired on the first of the year, and he was always such a grouchy bear when he came home at night. You spoiled that man, you really did. It was his idea to visit you. Not that I didn’t want to,” she said hastily. “He wanted to be sure you were all right and that the Marine Corps was taking care of his girl. They are, aren’t they, Arlene?” she said pointedly.
Ruby held her breath. How was the general’s wife going to answer that?
“Edward, is the Marine Corps taking care of Mrs. Blue?” Mrs. Frankel called across the room. Janet Query winked at Ruby, who sat bug-eyed, waiting for the general’s reply.
“Hell, Arlene, I don’t know. Young man, is the Corps taking care of the two of you?” the general boomed.
“Ah, yes, sir, General,” Andrew said in a shocked voice.
“Good. That’s what I like to hear,” the general replied.
“When is your baby due, Ruby?” Arlene Frankel asked, as if that had been the subject of the conversation all along.
Startled, Ruby blurted out, “Not for six months.”
“That’s wonderful.” Janet Query beamed.
“I’ll expect a cigar, Lieutenant,” General Frankel boomed.
“Yes, sir,” Andrew said dutifully.
“You’ll send us an announcement, Ruby?” Janet asked.
“Actually, Mrs. Query, I was going to ask you and the admiral if you would . . . what I was going . . . do you think . . . ?”
“We’d love to.” Janet laughed. “Clark has never been a godfather before.”
“Thank you, sir,” Andrew said huskily.
“My pleasure, young man.”
When they sat down to dinner, Ruby was given compliment after compliment about her casserole, and everything seemed to go smoothly until, toward the end the kitchen wall suddenly came to life with violent thumping and a muffled scream from the other side.
Ruby’s head jerked upright till she was staring into her husband’s piercing gaze. She chewed on her lip when Andrew said the people next door were fond of playing their radio rather loudly. Admiral Query stared across the table at his hostess. She knew he didn’t believe a word of Andrew’s explanation.
“Wonderful dinner, Ruby,” he said, obviously trying to ease her mind. “What’s for dessert?”
“Clark!” his wife chided.
Ruby laughed, but the sound was hollow. “I made a chocolate cake filled with pudding and marshmallow and nuts. You . . . you freeze it and then slice it like a log cake. We have some . . . canned fruit if you think that’s too rich.” Her ear was cocked toward the wall, but she couldn’t help it.
Janet Query noticed her distraction. Her own soft gray eyes were full of concern when she asked lightly, “Who lives next door, Ruby?”
“Which side?” Ruby asked tightly.
Janet pointed to the kitchen wall. Ruby felt like jumping out of her skin. She slammed the refrigerator door too hard and felt the bottles and cans bang against the door.
“Hugo Sinclaire and his wife,” Andrew said quickly. “Her name’s Dixie, isn’t it, Ruby?”
“Yes, Dixie. She’s pregnant, too.” She turned then to reach for the cake plates from the shelf above her head.
“Nice people. Everyone is nice around here. They’ve made us feel at home. Ruby and Dixie are fast friends, aren’t you, Ruby?”
“Yes. Yes, we are,” Ruby said, slicing the cake in equal portions. “The coffee will be ready in a minute,” she said in a choked voice.
“I know Hugo,” General Frankel said thoughtfully. “Outstanding officer, and he’s up for promotion.”
Admiral Query swiveled in his chair. “Ruby, is anything wrong?”
“Wrong? Oh, no, Admiral Query. I think I ate too much, that’s all. I’m going to pass on this cake. Sweets are my downfall,” she said lightly. She knew she wasn’t fooling her old boss, but it was the best she could do. Andrew was going to take a fit later when their guests left, she thought uneasily.
“I put chicory in the coffee, Admiral. I think it’s just the way you like it,” Ruby said, offering him the cake plate. She poured the fragrant coffee with a trembling hand.
Admiral Query met the general’s eyes. There were no obvious nods, no words to indicate either man was aware that something was suddenly not quite right in the Blue household.
“This is wonderful, Ruby,” the admiral said enthusiastically. “Give my wife this recipe, too.”
The dinner conversation seemed to accelerate, to the point that Ruby thought she would scream. Her ears were so tuned to the back kitchen wall, she found herself staring at it, willing the occupants to keep quiet.
There were no coffee refills, no second helpings of cake. The men excused themselves while their wives volunteered to clean up the dishes, over Ruby’s protests.
“If you’re going to smoke that smelly cigar, Clark, you go outside,” Janet Query ordered in a voice that matched her husband’s when he issued a direct order to a subordinate.
“Your pipe isn’t exempt, Ed.” Arlene smiled. “Ruby’s pregnant and smoke will make her sick. Go along now, this is women’s work.”
“Thank God,” Clark Query muttered as he reached for his overcoat.
“Lieutenant, you’re free to join us. I need to stretch my legs. A walk around this little area will bring back some fond memories. Of course, if you’d rather stay here with your wife while our wives play housemaid, we’ll understand.” The general’s voice clearly indicated Andrew should favor the latter suggestion, which he did.
Outside in the crisp February air, Ed Frankel turned to his old friend. “Spit it out, Clark, what’s going on?”
“Shit, Ed, I don’t know. Something in the apartment next door. Maybe you didn’t pick up on it because you don’t know Ruby the way I do. Her husband was aware, too; things changed when that commotion started in the apartment next to theirs. I heard a scream and it didn’t come from a radio. Sounded to me like someone got slammed against a wall.”
“Jesus, Clark, are you suggesting we ... spy on the Blues’ neighbors?”
“We’re out for an after-dinner stroll. Send your driver for your pipe tobacco. Tell him you forgot it. Jesus, since when does the navy have to do your thinking?” It was an old argument between them. The general bristled but walked over to his staff car and issued the order.
“Now what?” he barked.
“Now we walk. If you wear glasses, this is the time to put them on.” Query fitted his own wire rims over his ears that for the most part he was to
o vain to wear. The dark world burst into sharp focus as he stared at the apartment next to the Blues. The drapes were pulled, but cracks of light shone around the edges. The drapes on the Blues’ front windows were also drawn against the dark night. It was entirely possible, Query thought, to get mixed up and knock on the wrong door when they returned from their stroll. He voiced the thought to his friend.
“Even a grunt wouldn’t do something that stupid,” Frankel grumbled.
“Right, but who’s going to question you?”
“I know what you’re thinking. This could be serious.”
“Only if you act on it or bring it to a head. Ruby said the woman was pregnant. What if he’s beating her up in there? Would you want that on your conscience? If this was my command, that bastard’s ass would be out of here so fast, his head would be rotating on his shoulders. If I’m wrong, and I hope I am, no harm will be done.”
“Has it occurred to you, Clark, that maybe it was a damned radio? Even in the military, a man’s home is his castle, and what goes on—”
“Bullshit, Ed! We have our share of screwballs in the military. I’ve lived my life paying attention to my hunches; so have you, unless you’ve changed over the years. There’s trouble there, pure and simple. It’s your call; this is your turf. I’ll not say another word.”
General Frankel puffed on his pipe. “My problem is that Sinclaire is up for promotion. I’ve already written a glowing fitness report on him, based on his commanding officer’s recommendation. If you’re right about him, I’m going to have to spend a lot of time covering my ass.”
“I know, Ed. I said, it’s your call.”
Five minutes later they were back at their starting point. Query moved in the direction of the Blues’ apartment when the door next door burst open. Hugo Sinclaire froze, the open door yawning behind him. General Frankel moved quickly for a man his age and snapped a smart salute which Hugo Sinclaire had no choice but to return, which prevented him from immediately closing the door.
Both older men looked past him to the crumpled form on the floor outlined in the light of the doorway. “Nice evening, Lieutenant,” Frankel said briskly, moving toward the Blues’ walkway. “I used to live here myself,” he shot over his shoulder. He heard rather than saw the door close. Neither officer spoke when they returned to the Blues’ living room.
The Blues’ guests stayed on an extra thirty minutes before they called it a night.
“Remember, now, Ruby, we want to know as soon as the baby arrives,” Janet Query said, hugging Ruby. She whispered against Ruby’s ear. “Everything is going to be fine. Trust us.” Ruby completely misunderstood the admiral’s wife.
“I’ll call you in a day or so and have you join my expectant mothers’ class, Ruby. I think you might like sharing this precious time with other mothers to be,” Arlene Frankel said.
“Thank you, Mrs. Frankel, I’d like that. Is there room for my friend Dixie?”
“Why certainly,” Arlene Frankel said without a moment’s hesitation.
Ruby was returning from the commissary two days later, her arms full of groceries, when she saw the moving van pull away from the apartment next to hers. She set her grocery bags down and ran to the curb, demanding to know where the Sinclaires were.
“Gone. We got our orders to pick up late yesterday.”
“But . . . you mean they’re gone?”
“Sweetie, they ain’t in there, if that’s what you’re asking me. We’re moving this stuff to the Mojave Desert.”
“You’re what?” Ruby wailed.
“Look, sweet thing, I’d like to sit here and talk to you, but we have a lot of miles to cover, and this stuff has to be there when the Sinclaires sit down. You know how it works. Look on the bright side, you’re going to get a new neighbor.”
Ruby walked over to the Sinclaires’ apartment and opened the door. Her steps echoed as she moved from room to room. Tears gathered in her eyes. On a wall of the little cubicle Dixie had planned on turning into a nursery there marched nursery-rhyme decals. Her fingers traced over a smiling Peter Pan.
Dixie hadn’t said good-bye. Ruby sniffed and blew her nose. Why? Maybe her friend had left a note under her door. She ran to her own apartment, forgetting the groceries sitting on the walk. She sobbed in disappointment when she found no note.
She remembered the grocery sacks and carried them into the house. She was still sobbing as she put the food staples on the shelf above the sink. She stopped only long enough to call the girls. When she hung up after her last call, she sensed that something was wrong. All the girls knew that Dixie and Hugo had left. They knew and hadn’t said anything.
Gone.
She was still crying, curled into the corner of the sofa when Andrew came in from work. She hadn’t bothered to turn on any lights and had made no attempt to start supper.
“She didn’t even say good-bye, Andrew. How could she do that to me?” Ruby said, beating her clenched fists into the cushions. “Did you know, Andrew? If you did and didn’t tell me, I’ll never forgive you. All the girls knew; they said their husbands told them. Tell me the truth!” Ruby wailed.
“Ruby, I swear I didn’t know. I heard that Hugo put in for an immediate transfer, but the way the Corps works, it usually takes weeks. I was going to tell you this evening. The story I got, which is probably fifth hand at best, is Hugo put in for the transfer, because he found out he was passed over.
“Honey, I know you feel bad. I hate to say this, but I did try to warn you not to get involved. Dixie wasn’t the person you thought she was. If she cared about you as a friend, she wouldn’t have left like that. How the hell long does it take to make a phone call or scribble a note and slip it under the door?”
“It’s not just Dixie. The girls are all acting very coolly toward me these past days. Everything has changed, and not for the better. And don’t tell me that I’m imagining things. And as far as Dixie goes, I believe her damn husband wouldn’t let her say good-bye. If he was such a sure thing, and everyone says he was, how come he didn’t make it?”
“Who knows,” Andrew said. “He could have farted wrong.”
CHAPTER FIVE
Ruby opened the front door of her apartment, then quickly closed it. There was no way she was going to walk against the buffeting wind all the way across the base. March, she thought ruefully, was roaring like the proverbial lion. It wasn’t cold, though, so that was a blessing. Spring, she knew, hovered just around the corner. Yesterday she’d seen tiny little purple crocuses poking their heads up in the Sinclaires’ straggly winterized garden. Only it wasn’t the Sinclaires’ garden anymore. Now a family named Galen lived in the rooms Dixie had decorated.
Penny Galen had her own car, a cream-colored DeSoto, and right off that set her above Ruby and the other girls. She also had stylish clothes and expensive shoes and handbags. Her two children, ages four and six, looked like little models from the Sears, Roebuck catalogue. Their furniture was expensive: a pale blue brocaded sofa with matching chairs in plum and pale blue. Grand was the term the girls used to describe the contents of the Galen household.
Penny Galen favored inch-long fingernails, highly polished to match her pedicured toenails. She went into New Bern to have them done once a week, along with her beehive hairdo, which was bleached a sinful white. Monica said the shade was called platinum. Christine wondered out loud how she wiped her rear end with her long nails. Monica said she was so perfumed and powdered, she left a trail all over the base. Penny Galen was not one of them. She made her point the day they descended on her and offered to help her clean her apartment. “I,” she said regally, “have help.” The help was a middle-aged Polish woman from New Bern who arrived on Tuesdays and Saturdays to polish and scrub. Penny Galen was an only child and a military brat who had lived all over the world. She let it be known from the first that her daddy was a full colonel and had pull. Dave, her husband, wasn’t going to fiddle-shit around, trying to make points with low-ranking officers. The girls blushed
and flushed and backed out Penny Galen’s door, vowing never to return. Gertie, in a fit of pique, said snidely that General Frankel and Admiral Query were personal friends of the Blues and dined there frequently. Ruby wanted to slap Gertie when she saw the speculative look on Penny’s face. She did not need a friend like Penny Galen.
Later, when she had time to think about the incident, she decided Gertie’s motives were suspicious. All the old camaraderie was gone. Oh, the girls still included her in their kaffeeklatches and luncheons and do-good affairs, but it wasn’t the same. It seemed to Ruby that they were constantly on guard and watched their tongues the way they watched their household money. It had almost reached the point where Ruby wanted to say the hell with it all and stay in her apartment by herself to read or clean. She was on edge all the time and so lonely; she found herself crying for no reason at all. The doctor said that crying was normal, that pregnancy affected each woman differently.
Andrew volunteered the information that Dave Galen was a stuffed shirt with delusions of military grandeur.
“Don’t get involved,” he warned Ruby in the same tone of voice he’d warned her about Dixie. But this time Ruby agreed.
“Andrew, she calls and knocks on the door, and I don’t answer. What else can I do?”
“Tell her, point-blank. Why should you have to hide out or avoid the phone?”
“It’s not that easy, Andrew. You’ve drummed into my head that I have to wear your rank and make nice because we never know when we’re going to come up against them. You said we shouldn’t make enemies.”
“Do what you want, Ruby, but always remember the Sinclaires. That’s all going to bounce back on us someday. I feel it in my gut. I’m not exactly popular at headquarters these days.”
Ruby stared at her husband. He was blaming her. She felt miserable.
“I know it’s all my fault,” she said, though she didn’t believe it for a second. She would never believe she had done anything wrong with regard to Dixie and Hugo, but if it made Andrew feel better to believe she had, so be it.
Seasons of Her Life Page 26
