Jimmy's Stars

by Mary Ann Rodman

  Ha! thought Ellie. That’s not such a great gift!

  A note was taped to the glass, in the blank picture space.

  For Sal, Queen of the Freshman Class.

  The guys in my barracks have been ribbing me about my Lana picture. Not Lana, but her frame. We don’t have bureaus or dressers in boot camp, just footlockers. Lana and her frame is what they call “non-regulation”. I remember that your Sinatra pic could use a better home. So use this for old Frankie, until Lana and I come home.

  Your brother,

  Jimmy (aka Doc)

  “This will look nice on my dresser.” Sal ran her fingers over the glass. “For the duration.”

  “For you, Ellie,” Mom said, handing her something light and flat. Why, it was the exact size and shape for a box of…

  “Nylons!” shrieked Sal. “Nobody can get nylons any more. I hate you!”

  “What was Jimmy thinking?” Mom said, downright shocked.

  “Maybe he got the boxes mixed up,” said Sal. “I’m older.”

  Ellie pulled out a folded sheet of stationery and read:

  Dear Movie Star,

  Sal will probably say I mixed up the boxes and that these stockings are hers. Well, they aren’t. You’ll be going to junior high next year, and that was when Sal got her first pair. The PX is about the only place you can still buy them, so these are for you. Save them for a special occasion, okay? I know you will look as beautiful as Betty Grable. Lana is beautiful, but Betty has the best legs!

  Merry Christmas, Jimmy

  PS Ask Mom or Sal how you hold these things up! There’s a limit to what a fella can buy at the PX without getting funny looks.

  Ellie looked down at her shapeless legs. Maybe some day they would be as beautiful as Betty Grable’s. Maybe.

  Meanwhile, Mom was opening her present. “Oh, my,” she breathed. In her lap lay a formal colour-tinted portrait of Jimmy in dress uniform.

  Ellie moved in for a closer look. The soldier in the picture was handsome, but he didn’t look like Jimmy. The photographer had coloured the eyes the wrong colour blue, a sort of navy, instead of Jimmy’s blue, like the sky and the sea mixed together. And Jimmy’s hair was auburn, not brick red.

  But the colours didn’t bother Ellie as much as the soldier’s expression. Unsmiling, and Jimmy always smiled. And his eyes…the eyes looked as if they saw something that no one else could. Solemn eyes.

  The picture reminded Ellie of the ones on Miss Granberry’s wall. She shivered.

  “Merry Christmas, kiddo.” Toots handed Ellie a flat packet with “Do Not Open Until Christmas” stickers plastered all over it. Sal was tearing into an identical packet.

  “Wow,” enthused Sal. “A war bond.”

  “You shouldn’t have,” said Mom. “Eighteen dollars and seventy-five cents is a lot of money.”

  Toots shrugged. “Hey, it’s for the war effort. Just a little something for the future. In ten years they can cash it in for twenty-five dollars.”

  Ellie couldn’t imagine so much money, either now or in ten years. “Gee, thanks, Toots,” was all she could manage.

  “And that ain’t all,” said Toots as she rooted through the gifts still under the tree. She emerged with two wrapped packages that were unmistakably books. Ellie peeled back the tissue. It was a book all right.

  “Norma Kent of the WACs,” she read aloud. The last thing Ellie wanted to read right now was a book about a member of the Women’s Army Corps.

  “Gone with the Wind,” chirped Sal. “Swell, Aunt Toots! That was a terrific movie, and now I can read the story over and over.” Ellie peered over Sal’s shoulder as she riffled the pages. It was long, but it looked a lot better than Norma Kent.

  “Thanks, Toots,” Ellie said, remembering her manners. “This is for you,” she added, handing her aunt her gift.

  Toots started to rip into the lumpy-looking parcel.

  “Careful,” said Mom. “We can use that paper again next year.”

  “Sorry,” said Toots, carefully prising off the stickers. “Wow! Bed socks. Just what I need when I get in that freezing bed every morning.” She fitted the socks over her hands, and waved them in the air. “Thanks, Short Stuff.”

  “You’re welcome,” said Ellie. She tossed an identical lumpy package into Sal’s lap.

  “Gee,” said Sal. “I wonder what this could be?”

  No one mentioned that Army green was a strange colour for bed socks. The same colour as the scarf in the last package under the tree.

  Jimmy’s scarf.

  “Sal, Toots, I need you in the kitchen,” Mom said, piling the gift-wrappings on the sofa. “Ellie, why don’t you clear up in here? You can smooth out the tissue for next year.”

  That suited Ellie just fine. She would be the first to see Jimmy get off the streetcar.

  “Toots, what time are your friends coming?” Ellie called out to the kitchen.

  “I told them any time after four,” Toots shouted back.

  At three, Ellie took up watch at the front door. The Number 10 lumbered to a stop, disgorging a gaggle of girls. Ellie watched them pick their way up the street to the terrace steps. These had to be Toots’s work pals. No men. No Jimmy. She opened the storm door, frosty air swirling up and under her dress.

  “Hey, kid, is this the McKelveys’?” called one of the girls from the bottom porch step, squinting at a scrap of paper in her gloved hand.

  “Yep,” said Ellie.

  “This is the place then,” said another girl in a purple coat with a fake fox collar. The girls stomped up the front steps, shaking the snow from their boots.

  “Company’s here,” Ellie shouted in the direction of the kitchen.

  Toots hustled into the entryway, Mom and Sal on her heels. Toots introduced everyone around, and it seemed to Ellie they were all named Betty.

  “We was so scared of bein’ late, we’re kinda early,” said a red-headed Betty. “Sorry, ma’am.”

  “Nonsense,” said Mom with a dismissive wave of her hand. “Who wants to spend Christmas in a boarding house?”

  “Thanks, Mrs. McKelvey,” said fake-fox Betty. “Swell of you to invite us.”

  “Our pleasure,” said Mom.

  After the guests had offered to help in the kitchen and she had refused, Mom added, “Please make yourselves at home while I finish up the meal.”

  They did. Toots put on Glenn Miller records, and the Bettys jitterbugged, coming perilously close to the Christmas tree. Ellie kneeled on the sofa, watching for the Number 10 from the window. The mohair upholstery prickled her knees, but she didn’t budge.

  Jimmy wasn’t on the next streetcar. Or the next. Or the one after that.

  “Supper is almost ready,” Mom called from the dining room. “Would you girls like to freshen up? Toots, show them the washroom.”

  The girls clattered upstairs, leaving Ellie hanging over the sofa back, staring out the window, willing Jimmy’s streetcar to arrive.

  Swish creak. The kitchen door.

  “Ellie, what are you doing?” said Mom. “I need you in the kitchen.” Swish creak. She was gone.

  Like magic, the Number 10 rattled into view. Oh please oh please oh please.

  Upstairs, giggling and voices and the bathroom door slamming.

  “You girls ready?” Mom called up. “Sounds like a lot of horsing around up there.”

  “Yes ma’am sister dear,” Toots hollered down.

  The streetcar door opened as Ellie held her breath. One person. One single person.

  A man.

  The snow cleared for a moment, and Ellie glimpsed copper-coloured hair. A leather jacket. A familiar slouch of the shoulders.

  Ellie flew out the door without stopping for a coat. Skidding sideways down the terrace, snow filled her Mary Janes, the wind knifed through her skirts. Ellie didn’t care.

  “Jimmy!” she screamed.

  A pair of leather-clad arms reached out and steadied her as she slid on the pavement.

  “Hold on there,�
�� said a stranger’s voice. “I don’t know who you are, but I’m not Jimmy.”

  CHAPTER FIFTEEN

  Ellie peered at the stranger through the stinging snow. Her face burned as she remembered that Jimmy’s old leather jacket was upstairs in his closet.

  “Where’s your coat?” asked the stranger. Close up, Ellie could see he was younger than Jimmy, closer to Toots’s age. “Where did you come from?”

  “Across the street.” She hugged her elbows against the icy wind.

  “The one with the service flag? Is that where Toots Guilfoyle lives?”

  “Yep,” said Ellie, trying to keep her teeth from chattering.

  “Then you would be Ellie. I’m Wally Brown.” He started to offer his hand, then shook his head. “What am I thinking? You must be freezing. What say we make for the house?”

  Wally took Ellie’s arm as they crossed the street. Did she detect a limp in his step?

  Toots met them on the terrace steps and took Wally’s other arm.

  “What do you think I am?” Wally pretended to be insulted. “A ninety-pound weakling?”

  “Heck, no.” Toots propelled him up the steps. “Didn’t want you bending Ellie’s ear while we’re all starving.”

  As he moved past, Ellie spied a metal brace clamped to Wally’s left shoe. He caught her glance.

  “Polio,” he said as he handed her his jacket in the entry. “I’m lucky. Some kids I knew in the hospital never walked again. Some of them wound up in an iron lung because they couldn’t breathe on their own. Me, I just have a little old limp and a leg brace. Now you know why I’m 4-F.”

  “Ellie,” Mom scolded. “I hope you haven’t been asking our guest rude questions.”

  “Not at all, Mrs. McKelvey.” Wally handed Mom a small package. “Home-made fudge, courtesy of my mom and sister back home in Erie.”

  Ellie’s mouth watered, remembering the last time she made candy. Jimmy trying to spoon up the fudge before it had set. Sal slapping his hand away.

  He’ll be here. Soon.

  All through turkey and dressing and cranberries, Ellie couldn’t help thinking Jimmy should be here, not this Wally Brown.

  “Sorry there aren’t seconds,” said Mom, taking the dark meat nobody else wanted.

  “Are you kidding?” said a Betty. “I haven’t eaten like this since I left home.”

  “Heck, I didn’t eat like this when I lived at home!” joked the red-headed Betty.

  For a minute Ellie thought, This is almost like the old days.

  “Even if you had more, I couldn’t eat another bite,” Wally assured Mom.

  “But there is more,” she protested. “I have pies.”

  I was going to make frosted gingerbread for Jimmy. The familiar lump was back in Ellie’s throat and growing bigger by the minute.

  “Should we loosen our belts a spell before tackling dessert?” asked Pop.

  “Good idea,” said Toots. “Anybody want to play Hearts?”

  “Go ahead,” Ellie told Sal. “I’ll help Mom clear up the kitchen.”

  “Are you sure?” Sal gave her sister a suspicious look.

  “Sure.” Ellie shrugged. “It’s Christmas.”

  “Thanks, Peanut,” Sal said. “I owe you.”

  It seemed as if they had used every plate, pot and pan. Just when Ellie thought she was done, Mom would say, “There’s another stack of plates on the counter.”

  At long, long last the dishes were washed, dried and put away, the kitchen clean.

  “Let’s go join the Hearts game,” said Mom, heading for the living room.

  Ellie dawdled over the silverware drawer. “Okay, I’ll be out in a minute.”

  Alone in the kitchen, Ellie’s throat tightened. She knew she was just a breath away from tears. But she couldn’t cry, not here at least. What if somebody came out for a glass of water? She went down to the basement, where she could be alone.

  Dropping to the bottom step, she buried her head in her arms and sobbed. She might have been there a minute or an hour, when the kitchen door opened.

  “Ellie, is that you? Are you all right?” Wally called softly.

  “Yes,” Ellie hiccuped.

  “You don’t sound all right.” Thump clunk. Thump clunk. Wally eased himself down next to Ellie, braced leg sticking out straight on the stairs. “Now, what’s the trouble?”

  Without meaning to, Ellie blubbered out the whole story. Well, almost the whole story. She left out the part about snooping in Toots’s mail.

  “I’m sorry,” said Wally. “Bet you thought I was him when I got off the trolley.”

  “It’s not your fault.” Ellie groped her pocket for a hanky.

  Wally dangled a handkerchief over her shoulder. “Go ahead. It’s clean.”

  Ellie wiped her eyes and nose. “Jimmy always has a clean hanky when I need one.”

  “He must be a swell guy.” Wally’s voice was warm and comforting, like President Roosevelt’s. “Tell me about him.”

  So she did. Everything she could remember. “He gave me nylons for Christmas.”

  Wally whistled. “You must be special. I know girls who would sell their grandmothers for a pair of nylons.”

  Ellie sniffled. “Really?”

  He raised his hand. “Scout’s honour. You are special.”

  “But not special enough for him to come home.” Ellie’s head drooped.

  Wally sighed. “There’s a war on, kiddo. There might be a dozen reasons why he didn’t make it. None of them his fault.”

  “But he promised.” Ellie knew she was whining and didn’t care. “Jimmy always keeps his promises.”

  “Things don’t always work out the way we want,” said Wally. “Me, I wanted to join up, but the service doesn’t want gimpy soldiers.”

  Wally cleared his throat. “Ellie, you aren’t the only one wishing Jimmy were here. Sal misses him something awful. Your mom and dad, too. They’re doing their darndest to give us a happy holiday, but you know they miss him, too.”

  From upstairs, dance music. “Sing, Sing, Sing”. Sal’s cheering up music.

  “We’re all just trying to have a merry Christmas.”

  Ellie hung her head. “I guess you wish you were home with your family, too.”

  Wally patted Ellie’s arm. “True. But I’m mighty thankful to be here tonight.”

  “Okay, I’m better now,” she said.

  “That’s a girl. Let’s go upstairs. I think your mom is about to serve pie.”

  So Ellie rinsed her face in the kitchen sink, then helped Mom serve up the pumpkin pies. She listened to Toots and the Bettys tell funny stories about work, mostly about Wally, the only man in their department. Players rotated in and out of the Hearts game. And the clock ticked relentlessly towards the end of the evening.

  “That’s it for me,” said Wally, rising from the card table.

  “You’re just tired of getting skunked,” kidded the red-headed Betty.

  “Yeah,” he admitted with a grin. “But it’s getting late.”

  Don’t go, Ellie wanted to say. Because when Wally and the Bettys were gone, she would be alone with her thoughts.

  The guests crowded the entry, tugging on snow boots, tying headscarves. Ellie thrust a lumpy package into Wally’s hands.

  “Merry Christmas,” she said. “For loaning me the hanky and all.”

  “But this is Jimmy’s,” Wally protested, reading the tag.

  “You take it.” Ellie swallowed hard. “I can make him another one.”

  “Thank you.” Wally opened the box, gently lifted the scarf from its tissue-paper nest, and wound it around his neck, tucking the ends into his leather jacket. He smiled crookedly. “See? I get to wear Army green after all.”

  Ellie stood on the icy porch, watching the Bettys and Wally disappear into the gloom of Macken Street, trying to make Christmas last just a little longer. Finally, her numb feet and chattering teeth drove her inside. The house seemed empty without the clatter and chatter of their guest
s. Then, as if to fill the aching silence, everyone began to talk at once.

  “Such nice girls,” Mom said, stacking the dessert plates.

  “Pretty swell,” Sal agreed. “And that Wally wasn’t so bad either.”

  “Kind of livened up the place.” Pop settled into the Morris chair and fiddled with the radio dial. “But it’ll be good to get things back to normal, with the holidays over.”

  Normal? What was Pop talking about? Ellie wondered. How could a house without Jimmy be normal? The tight feeling crept back into Ellie’s throat.

  “What a day!” Ellie faked a big yawn. “Think I’ll hit the hay.” She was in her pyjamas and under the covers in record time. Go to sleep, she willed herself. Stop thinking and go to sleep.

  But she was still awake when Sal came upstairs. Wide-eyed, she stared at the ceiling as Sal brushed her hair and creamed her face. Once in bed, Sal flounced and flipped around, pulling the quilts just so, smacking the bolster into shape. At last, Sal’s breathing turned slow and even. And Ellie could cry softly into her pillow.

  Jimmy, where are you?

  CHAPTER SIXTEEN

  Christmas had been on a Saturday, but come Sunday night, Toots went back to work, with Mom and Pop following the next morning.

  “Leaving us with all the work,” Sal groused. “Trust Mom to think a week off from school means we can spend a week cleaning. We might as well be under house arrest.”

  “Hmmm?” Ellie mumbled. She was too worried about Jimmy to care about housework or anything else – why hadn’t Jimmy kept his promise? Where was he?

  On New Year’s Eve, Toots went out with the Bettys. Ellie started a new scarf for Jimmy. Pop read Life magazine while Mom searched for a good radio show. Sal skulked from room to room, pouting because Mom wouldn’t let her go to Connie Cavendish’s party.

  “Fourteen isn’t old enough for night parties and dates,” Mom said.

  “I am sooo mortified,” Sal moaned over and over. “Everyone will be there.”

  “Everyone but you,” Mom said. “Maybe next year.”

  Sal rolled her eyes. “Like anyone will invite me.”