“Yes,” he said. “I was sentenced to fourteen days in the camp jail. Just bread and water. But it was worth it.”
“Well, my mom can’t be any worse than that.” Or could she?
I hadn’t expected things would be easy. I had a mother whose favorite child had died, and now that she was taking an interest in her only daughter, she felt I’d betrayed her.
I spent part of the evening standing at the side of the stage, watching the band play. During the break, Jens and I went back to the booth.
“You’re so talented,” I told him as we sat down. “I could watch you play every night.”
“And I could listen to you sing every night,” he said. I’d only sung for him a couple of times when he’d been working at the farm, so his compliment all these years later meant the world to me.
He hugged me, but his arm quickly dropped to his side. Standing in front of our table was Lance Dugan with a girl at his side, a different girl than he’d been with the other night. He was in much the same shape as last time, perhaps more drunk.
“Well, if it isn’t the pot calling the kettle black,” Lance said, staggering and lifting his drink in the air. “After I sent you and Scott a bottle of champagne the other night to celebrate your engagement, the minute his back is turned, you’re taking up with a musician?”
“My personal affairs are none of your business, Lance.”
“You always did act like a prima donna.”
“And you’ve always acted like a fathead.”
Lance let out a short laugh and turned to Jens. “Hey, buddy, you’re messing with another man’s fiancée.”
Jens stood up. “Leave her alone.”
Lance backed up a second, unsteady on his feet. “Is that a German accent? Aren’t you in the wrong country? Didn’t we just beat your sorry ass into the ground?”
“I spent the war in a prison camp,” Jens admitted.
“Lucky bastard.” Then Lance’s face registered the information. “Oh! Were you one of those POWs? The ones who spent all that time with the farmer’s daughter? Tell me, is she really a red-hot lover?”
Jens swung, striking Lance squarely in the jaw and sending him sprawling across the maple hardwood floor along with his drink.
I had never seen Jens angry before, but in a flash his anger disappeared.
“I’m sorry if I hurt you,” he said, extending a hand to Lance. “But you must respect Lorraine.”
“Keep your filthy Kraut hands off me,” Lance yelled while his date tried to help him stand.
I quickly guided Jens back to the stage, away from the scene where people were gathering to see Lance Dugan lying flat on the floor. “Lance Dugan isn’t someone you want to make an enemy.”
Jens smirked. “He was drunk. Maybe he won’t remember.”
“No one in this town has ever stood up to Lance Dugan before. You can count on one thing. He won’t forget.”
I could also count on him to tell Scotty what he’d seen.
*
After the ballroom had emptied at the end of the night, I found Jens as he was putting away his saxophone.
“Can I try?” I asked, wondering how he managed to make such beautiful sounds come out of that instrument.
He wiped off the mouthpiece and handed it to me. “Sure.”
Jens showed me how to hold it with my left hand on top and right hand on the bottom.
“Curl lips,” he said as I put it up to my mouth.
“Now blow.”
A loud squeaking sound pierced the air. Jens covered his ears with his hands.
“Sorry.” I handed back the instrument.
“Maybe you should stick to singing.”
I winced, thinking of how I’d failed miserably just a few nights before on this stage.
“You will sing here again,” he said, reading the look on my face.
We lingered in the dark lobby after the equipment had been packed and loaded.
“Two years, and hardest part is leaving now,” Jens said, taking my hands in his and kissing them. “Our band will play at Prom Ballroom in St. Paul next month. Is near your school?”
“It’s not too far. I’ll come see you.”
He smiled. “That will make me very happy.”
I handed him a piece of paper with my school address.
“I will write to you,” he promised. He kissed my hands again. “Until next month.”
I wiped from my cheeks the tears that I’d tried to hold back. Two years of separation had been erased in two days. The feelings I had for Jens were stronger than ever. I loved this man; I loved his accent and the way he listened to me, as though every word I said was important. I loved how I could make his eyes shine with joy. And I loved how every nerve in my body responded to his touch.
I sniffed, not wanting to leave. One month was nothing, a drop in the bucket after two years apart. But it felt like an eternity right now. “I’m not sure I can let you go, Jens.”
We kissed for a long time in the darkened lobby, until Mr. Fox came up behind us and I had to leave.
*
Five days at home seemed interminably long since Mom was barely talking to me, a bitter reminder of how much I craved my life back at school. I decided that I would reach Scotty before Lance talked to him. But I wasn’t sure what to tell him.
While Daddy was out at the barn, I walked up behind Mom. She was sitting on our green sofa cross-stitching a doily, staring out the window at the wind whipping the snow into textured patterns across the fields. The needle worked confidently in her hands, an automatic motion that barely required her attention. That alone was a testament to her recovery. Her skin was still pale, though her eyes were sharp.
“Mom, can we talk?”
I saw her shoulders tense up.
I sat across from her in Daddy’s easy chair and folded my hands in my lap.
Mom didn’t look at me; instead her eyes went to her cross-stitch. Patterns of dainty pink flowers were taking shape on the white fabric. “Is this about that boy?”
“Yes,” I admitted.
Mom’s face twisted up. “There’s nothing to talk about. You have a choice to make, and I hope to God you make the right one. Don’t betray Scotty and bring shame to our family by taking up with that war criminal.”
The only noise in the room was the sound of thread being pulled through the fabric and the ticking of the grandfather clock, a dark monstrosity that Mom had inherited from her parents.
“I’m sorry, Mom. I’d hoped things would be different now that the war was over.”
Mom stopped stitching and stared at me. “Different? How long has this been going on? Were you taking up with that boy behind my back the whole time he worked here? While your brother was dying for his country?”
I wanted to tell her it wasn’t like that. She was making it out to sound like something horrible. But I realized that in her eyes, it was horrible.
“I suspected as much,” she spat. “Well, you’ve never been one to listen to good sense. You ignore everything I tell you. But if you don’t do the right thing now, you’re no longer welcome in this house.”
She was going to kick me out? Did Scotty warrant more loyalty than her own daughter? I had no idea her hate could run that deep. I finally found my voice. “I’m going to take the bus to Iowa City to see Scotty. And I don’t know if I’ll be engaged when I come back. If you want to disown me for that, so be it.”
As I went to pack a bag, my indignation cut through sudden hot tears. I’d hoped that Jens would have a new start here. But there were people like Mom, who couldn’t find any forgiveness in their hearts, and people like Lance, who couldn’t accept someone who was different.
Even if I broke my engagement to Scotty, did Jens and I have any hope of a future together? If we did, it didn’t appear that we would have one here.
Thirty-six
1947
I bought a bus ticket for the ten o’clock departure, then walked over to the high school. I found
Miss Berkland in the music room, preparing for her next class.
“I’m so sorry about the other night, Miss Berkland,” I said.
She held up her hand. “Every performer deals with stage fright, Lorraine. You should have had a chance to practice on stage before the audience arrived. I feel responsible for putting you in that position. You’ll get better with practice. I know it.”
“To be honest, Miss Berkland, it wasn’t the audience. It was the band.”
“The band? I don’t understand.”
I couldn’t hold in the tears any longer. My heart felt as though it would break. I collapsed into a chair and buried my face in my hands.
Miss Berkland hurried over and patted my shoulder.
“Come now, Lorraine. It can’t be as bad as all that.”
I told her everything: about how I’d fallen in love with Jens during the war, and how Scotty had proposed to me right before the performance. I told her how awful I’d felt that I hadn’t been able to sing, and how my mother was so fragile and yet so unbending, and how it scared me to cross her. Of how Mom would never accept my singing or Jens.
When I finished talking I was afraid to look at Miss Berkland, fearing that I’d see hatred or disappointment. I stared at the floor while she handed me a handkerchief and I wiped my eyes. Her voice was soft. “You must understand one thing, Lorraine. Our hearts aren’t like our voices. They’re not instruments that can be trained with discipline or practice. Our hearts have a voice of their own.”
Miss Berkland looked out the window for a moment, then cleared her throat and continued. “When I was young, I also fell in love with a saxophonist. He was playing for a band that we went to hear.”
I couldn’t hide my surprise. I looked up at her. She’d never mentioned a boyfriend before.
“Yes, I was young once like you,” she said, reading my expression. “He played for a jazz band, and he was a very good man and so talented, but he wasn’t someone I was allowed to date,” she said.
“Why not?”
Miss Berkland walked over and closed the door before continuing. “This may shock you, and I have to ask that you never tell another living soul what I’m about to say.”
“Of course. I promise.” I couldn’t imagine Miss Berkland having anything to tell me that might shock me.
“He was a man of color, a Negro, and there were strict laws regarding such relationships. But the law didn’t mean anything to my heart. I only knew how I felt about him and how he made me feel.”
My mouth fell open. Miss Berkland had always seemed like such a prudish woman, not the kind who’d do anything against societal norms. “You fell in love with a colored man?” We only had but two colored people in our community.
“Yes. We were playing an extended gig in Chicago at the time. I was young, your age. And he was so handsome and played music that spoke to my soul. We were very much in love.”
“What happened?”
Her voice took on a bitter tone. “Someone wrote to my father. When he found out, he came and dragged me back home. My boyfriend’s name was Sly, and I didn’t want him to go to jail, which he could have if my father had pursued matters. That ended my singing career. I wound up teaching school instead of following my ambition. I gave up everything, because—well, I don’t really know why I did it, except that I didn’t want to bring shame to my family. That’s not what we Iowa girls are supposed to do, is it?”
I thought of everything she had given up, of how my decision to follow my heart could bring a similar shame upon my family.
She clasped her hands together. “I suppose that’s why I pushed you so hard, Lorraine.”
“I’m so sorry, Miss Berkland.”
“Don’t be sorry for me. I love teaching, and life could be a lot worse. I don’t imagine it would have gotten any easier if we’d stayed together. I have plenty of regrets, but I have a lot to be thankful for, too.”
I felt utterly confused. “I don’t know what to do,” I confessed. “I have a bus ticket to Iowa City. I was going to tell Scotty about Jens, but…”
“You’re worried you’ll ruin your life and shame your family?”
I nodded. When I was with Jens I couldn’t deny my longing, but I didn’t want to have to choose between him and my family.
“I can’t tell you what to do. That’s a decision you have to make yourself. There’s nothing wrong with sacrifice if that’s what you want, but letting yourself get trapped into a life you don’t want isn’t what I’d wish on anyone.” She had tears at the corners of her own eyes, and I handed back the damp handkerchief, which she used to dab at her eyes. “You only have one life, Lorraine. And you only have one heart.”
She hugged me, and I collected myself before I walked to the bus station. The long ride gave me lots of time to think, but I was no closer to a decision when I arrived in Iowa City than I had been when I left. I walked around, admiring the sprawling campus that was so much larger than the small site that St. Olaf occupied. It was getting late; the buildings were casting longer shadows, and the air was blowing in an icy stroke that swept through the streets.
I found Scotty at practice, and waited outside the gym until he came out. My fingers and legs were nearly frozen.
Scotty almost walked past me with his teammates. “Lorraine? What are you doing here?” He scooped me up, but then his eyes narrowed. “Is something wrong?”
The look on his face was too much for me. “I just had to see you,” I lied.
His face held a perplexed smile. “I just left you three days ago!”
I started shivering uncontrollably. Scotty put his arm around me. “Let’s get you someplace warm.”
He took me to a large brick house with four white pillars in front, the Kappa Alpha Theta sorority house, where a friend of his gave me a hot cup of tea and offered to put me up for the night. The girls all knew Scotty, and it was evident in the way they fell over themselves to help me that they adored him.
It was difficult to find a place to talk without someone listening in, but Scotty managed to locate a small study that was empty.
“Now,” he said, sitting next to me and taking my hands in his oversized ones, which made mine practically disappear. “What’s this all about?”
His expression was kind and full of concern. The last thing I wanted was to cause him pain, but who knew what Lance would tell him?
My voice was a whisper. “My German soldier is back.” His face dropped and I imagined his heart shattering into a million pieces. “I saw him playing at the Surf.”
“I thought we were going to get married,” he said. “I thought you were happy with me.”
“I was,” I insisted. “I am. I’m only telling you because…” How could I say that I was only telling him because I was afraid he’d find out through Lance? “I don’t want to keep secrets from you.”
“Oh, sweetheart,” he said. “I thought for a minute that … well, you don’t still have feelings for him, do you?”
I had to look away before answering. “I accepted your ring, Scotty,” I said with too much conviction.
“Yes, you did. I love you, Lorraine, and I’m not about to give you up. I’ll fight for you if I have to.” He held me and I felt safe in his arms, knowing we still had a future together.
“I know you cared for him, but that was a long time ago,” Scotty said, as though he was trying to convince me. “Things have changed. He can’t just reappear in your life like that.”
I felt him pull away, but his face brightened. “Let’s get married this summer!”
“But … what about my scholarship?”
“They have a music department here. Maybe you can still take classes, or just be with me. I know it will be hard,” he said, his voice gaining strength, “and we won’t have much money. But you’ll be able to go to my home games. You don’t know how much it would mean to me to see your face in the crowd, and the important thing is we’ll be together.”
“I don’t know,” I said
hesitantly. “I love school and choir. I love singing.”
“Please, Lorraine. This is how it’s supposed to be for two people in love. Not hundreds of miles away from each other.”
His words made sense. If we got married sooner, I’d have less time to think about Jens, to let myself be confused and indecisive. I knew that a future with Scotty would be less of a struggle than any hardships Jens and I would face.
“I can’t bear the thought of another year apart from you,” he said, bringing me close again.
“Okay,” I finally said, although it all seemed so sudden.
The next day Scotty kissed me at the bus door in front of everyone, and promised to call in a week. I smiled as if nothing was wrong, as if I could forget Jens, how his kiss had ignited a fire within me.
A former soldier who’d lost a leg rode in the front of the bus. He still wore his uniform, which was patched at the elbows and had a hole in the knee of his good leg. The other pant leg hung limply across the seat, a mark of what he’d lost. It had been almost two years since the war had ended, but the scars—some visible, others not—were a reminder of all we’d suffered as a nation.
Still, it seemed that most people were hopeful and happy. And now that my family had begun to reclaim some of that hope, I wasn’t sure I could make a choice that might tear us apart.
The ride back to Clear Lake was long and uncomfortable. I would be leaving to go back to school soon, and I was so conflicted.
Mom forgave me when she saw the ring still on my finger, but I felt a cold indifference toward her. I didn’t mention our summer wedding plans. I didn’t want to give her the satisfaction. And I was glad she didn’t come with Daddy when he took me to the train station.
“You gonna tell me what’s eating the two of you?” he asked before I boarded the train.
Poor Daddy, always the last to know.
“It’s Scotty,” I confessed, the tears coming again. “I wasn’t sure I could marry him. I know you really like him.”
Daddy hugged me tight. “Of course I like him, but I don’t have to marry him. I take it this is why you made the trip to Iowa City?”
I nodded and sniffed.
Stars Over Clear Lake Page 20
