by Janet Beard
“Hello there!” Mary called out. She never seemed afraid of awkward situations. The two girls walked quickly to where Ollie stood. He shouted, “Merry Christmas!”
“Merry Christmas!” they both echoed.
“It’s so good to see you, Ollie,” said Mary.
“What’s left of me, anyway.” He said this with a smile, staring down at the space where his leg should be. June was relieved that he acknowledged it straightaway.
“How long have you been home?” June asked.
“Just a week here on the farm. I’ve been back stateside for a couple months, in a hospital.”
“I’m so sorry,” said June, and indeed, she could feel her eyes brim slightly with tears.
“Well, at least I’m alive. I’m sorry for you, too, June. We all miss Ronnie something awful.”
The tears spilled over, and she felt somewhat relieved (then of course guilty for feeling relieved), knowing that crying at the mention of Ronnie’s name was an appropriate response. “He sure did love you,” June heard Ollie say.
She wiped her eyes with the sleeve of her coat. It was selfish and stupid for her to be crying when he was the one missing a leg. How ridiculous that he should feel sorry for her! “Thank you,” she whispered.
“Your mama must be happy to have you home for Christmas,” said Mary in her gentle voice.
“Yeah.” He looked over at the four-room house badly in need of paint. “It’s good to be home.”
“It is,” said June.
“We don’t want to keep you from your family on Christmas,” said Mary.
“It was real nice of y’all to stop by.”
“You take care, Ollie,” June said.
It took seeing her father on the porch, waving as they drove up, to raise June’s spirits once more. As soon as Bill stopped the car, June leapt out and ran to the house. Frank enveloped her in his strong arms. By the time June was through the door, her mother had already come out of the kitchen to embrace her, bringing along with her the rich smell of roasting meat. “How is he?” she whispered in June’s ear, referring of course to Bill.
“Nice,” was all June had time for before the door opened, and Mary and her father came in, followed by Bill, who was carrying a Christmas wreath in one hand and playfully slapping her father on the back with the other.
“And this must be Rose,” Bill said in a loud, hearty voice. June could tell that despite his bravado, he was scared.
“Pleased to meet you,” her mother said as she shook his hand.
“Thank you so much for inviting me into your home.”
“Of course. Any friend of Mary’s is welcome here,” said Frank.
“I brought this as a thank-you.” Bill held out the pine-and-holly wreath to Rose.
“Isn’t that lovely? Frank, can you hang it on the door?”
“Sure.”
“Come on in and sit down,” said Rose. “I’m still working on dinner, but there’s coffee for anyone who wants it.”
They sat in the living room. Like every year June could remember, stockings were hung above the fireplace, and her mother had decorated a scraggly pine tree her father had cut down in the woods behind the house. Rose brought in a tray of coffee mugs and passed them around. Frank came back in from hanging up the wreath, and they all sat in a circle, staring at Bill. “Mary tells us you’re in the Army,” Frank finally said.
“That’s right, sir. The Army Corps of Engineers, so I’m serving right here in Tennessee.”
“What exactly does the Corps of Engineers do?” asked Frank.
“Engineering projects for the Army, sir. I’ve been involved in the construction of the Clinton Engineer Works, where your daughters work, since it was first begun.”
Mary beamed proudly at him. “Seems that’s been a mighty big project,” said Frank.
“I’m afraid I can’t talk about it. You probably already know from the girls that we aren’t allowed to talk about our work.”
“That’s what they said, but I thought maybe they were just trying to get us old folks to stop asking questions.”
“It’s true, Daddy,” said Mary. “Censors check our mail. We could lose our jobs if we say too much.”
“More important, we could lose the war.” Bill was all seriousness when he said this, and June had to suppress a chuckle. It was like he’d stepped right out of one of the posters at work.
“We saw Ollie Jackson on the way in,” said Mary.
“I know I should have written to you girls about it,” said Rose, “but I just never could figure out how to put it in my letters.”
“He seems in good spirits,” said June.
“Brave boy,” said Frank, as though it were too painful to form a complete sentence. The room was silent for a moment except for footsteps coming down the stairs. Jericho appeared, the same as ever in his overalls and long beard.
“What’s all these folks doing here?”
“It’s Mary and June, Jericho. Your granddaughters. And this is Mary’s friend Bill.”
Jericho stared at them all blankly. “Where’s my dogs?”
“In the pen, Jericho. We’re keeping them outside today, because we have company. You should put on a coat if you’re going out.” Frank took a coat down from a hook beside the door. Jericho took it from him silently and went out.
After the meal, they exchanged gifts, then sat around the parlor, drinking a second round of coffee. June wished she could stay by the fireplace into the evening and sleep in her childhood bed. But Mary was anxious to get back. “I have the worst headache,” she said as they drove out of the hollow. She let out a little moan of pain. “And I’m supposed to sit for the Greeleys tonight.”
“On Christmas?” asked Bill.
“They have a fancy Army party to go to.”
“Why don’t you have June cover for you?”
June leaned forward at the sound of her name. “Who are the Greeleys?”
Mary turned around to face her. “Bill’s boss and his wife. They have three kids, four, seven, and twelve. They’re good kids and real nice folks. And they’ll pay you a dollar an hour.”
“All right.” The thought of spending the evening alone or even with Cici was awfully depressing anyway.
The line to get back through the security gate was almost a mile long. Mary held her head with one hand and continued to let out little moans. June thought she was laying it on a bit thick. She rested her own head against the window and watched the line of cars slowly snaking their way down the dusty road. One of the CEW billboards appeared up ahead: “Your Pen and Tongue can be enemy weapons. Watch What you Write and Say.” It showed a cross with a helmet over it stabbed through with an ink pen.
“I’m supposed to be there at six thirty,” said Mary. “Do you think we’ll make it?”
“Well, there’s nothing we can do to get there any faster,” said Bill. “It’s Christmas. I’m sure they’ll be understanding.”
It was six forty when they did finally get to the Greeleys’. They lived at the top of the ridge behind the town center. The hillside was covered with trees and cemesto houses and looked almost like a normal neighborhood rather than an Army reservation. As Bill turned onto the road up the hill, he asked June, “You ever been up to Snob Hill before?”
“Snob Hill?”
“That’s what folks call this part of town. It’s where all the nicest houses are. You see, the farther up you go, the less mud there is.”
It was true: the Greeleys had a real yard with grass, rather than the typical Oak Ridge mud pit. June could see a Christmas tree in the front window of the house.
“All right,” said Mary. “I’ll introduce you. Don’t worry, Mrs. Greeley is nice.”
Mary knocked on the door, and June stood beside her, trying to look poised and responsible. Still, it was hard not to gape at the woman who opened the door, wearing the prettiest dress June had ever seen outside of the movies. It was made of a shimmering gold that stretched all the way down to
the floor. June could tell that the top was strapless, though Mrs. Greeley’s shoulders were covered with a matching gold jacket. She was thin and the dress exaggerated her tiny waist, cinching in at the middle before flaring out over her hips.
“I’m so sorry I’m late,” Mary began.
“Oh, don’t be silly—we’re running late as usual ourselves.” Mrs. Greeley opened the door wide for them to come in.
“This is my sister June.”
June extended her hand, and Mrs. Greeley shook it. June glanced around the immaculate living room. A gilded lamp stood over a deep burgundy sofa, and dark wooden furniture lined the walls.
“Merry Christmas to the both of you!” Mrs. Greeley said.
“We’ve just come from our parents’ house, and I’m afraid I’m getting a sick headache. Would you mind if June filled in for me tonight? She’s very responsible and works here at the CEW as well.”
“Well, I don’t see why that should be a problem.”
As she spoke, two children came running into the living room. “Mary!” they called out. They were immediately followed by a man in uniform.
“Hello, Jason and Lucy. This is my sister June. She’s going to play with you tonight.”
“Hello,” said June.
“I got a dollhouse for Christmas!” shouted Lucy. She didn’t particularly seem to care if it was June or Mary who heard her news.
“You get home and get some rest,” Mrs. Greeley said to Mary.
“All right. Bye-bye, everyone.”
“June, why don’t you just come in the bedroom with me while I finish getting ready?”
Mrs. Greeley led her down the hallway and shut the bedroom door behind them. She sat down at a vanity and began applying powder to her face. “I know it’s awful to leave the children like this on Christmas night, but it’s almost their bedtime. Anyway, we have to go to the major’s party, though between you and me, they are dreadfully boring.” She clipped a pair of large, sparkling earrings to her ears. “I wouldn’t be so frantic getting ready, but the maid had the day off of course. Anyway, the children have already eaten, so you don’t have to worry about that. Don’t let them have any more candy, even if they beg. Bedtime is eight except for Jerry, the oldest. He can stay up till ten.” She applied lipstick, mashed her lips together, and stood to face June. “How do I look?”
“Amazing.” June meant it.
Mrs. Greeley led her back into the living room. The man was waiting for her by the door. “This is Captain Greeley; this is June.” Mrs. Greeley introduced them quickly as her husband helped her into a long black coat and gave June a little nod. “We should be back around eleven. Good night, children!”
“Good night,” they all called out at once, and with that, the elder Greeleys were gone. June faced the children, all three blue-eyed, well dressed, and exceptionally clean.
“Want to see my dollhouse?” asked Lucy.
“Want to see my truck?” asked the littlest one.
Jerry rolled his eyes at his younger siblings and announced, “I’m going to read in my room.”
Lucy and Jason ran to find their presents under the tree. June had to give Lucy a hand with the dollhouse. It was a three-story house filled with tiny furniture. June had never seen such a nice toy in her life, or such a nice house for that matter. But Lucy soon grew tired of playing with it and demanded a game of hide-and-go-seek instead. Jason abandoned his truck in the hallway to join in, and June closed her eyes and began counting. She felt as though she was snooping, looking for the children. She opened a hall closet and saw nothing out of the ordinary, then opened the parents’ closet. For a moment, she forgot about the children and just stared at Mrs. Greeley’s clothes. There were dozens of jackets and dresses, all different colors, all beautifully tailored. Certainly not homemade.
Neither Lucy nor Jason wanted to go to bed when the time came, but June managed to get them washed and into pajamas by eight thirty. Lucy was still singing Christmas carols and asking her questions as June smoothed the blankets over her. “Do you work here?” asked the little girl.
“Yes.”
Lucy whispered loudly, “Are you making candy?”
“What?”
“I know we’re not supposed to talk about it, but some of my friends at school think they’re making candy in the factories. For the soldiers.”
“That’s wrong!” Jason sat up in his bed. “They’re making yo-yos!”
“Nope!” said Lucy. “Daddy told me what they’re really making.” She looked over at her little brother, as though considering whether or not he was trustworthy, then leaned in to June and whispered into her ear, “Paper dolls!”
“That’s exactly right,” June told her. This seemed to satisfy Lucy, and she lay down, finally ready to go to sleep.
When June went back to the living room, Jerry was sitting on the sofa, setting up a game of checkers on the coffee table. “Wanna play?” he asked.
“Sure.” She sat down on the floor across from him.
“You can go first.”
She struggled to remember the rules of checkers and moved her piece. Jerry watched her intently. He had a button pinned to his shirt, which read, “A slip of the lip may sink a ship.”
“What did you get for Christmas?” asked June in a friendly voice.
Jerry shrugged. “Some shirts. And a bicycle.”
“A bicycle! That sounds exciting.”
“Yeah, it’s all right.” He made his move without looking up at June and gave the impression of being completely bored.
“I’m sure you’ll have fun being able to ride around town.” June thought that she would like a bicycle, so that she didn’t have to walk everywhere or take the bus.
“I got another present from my brother Mike. He’s fighting the Japs.”
“Oh. Did he send you a present from overseas?”
Jerry’s face lit up for the first time, and he hopped off the sofa. “Yep. You wanna see it?”
“Sure.”
“I’ll be right back.” Jerry ran off down the hall, and returned carrying a folded-up sheet, which he unfurled in a single dramatic gesture for June to see. It was a rectangle of a soiled white cloth with a large red circle in the middle—a Japanese flag.
“My brother got this off a Jap soldier he killed.”
The flag was dirty and stained; June couldn’t help but wonder if some of the dirt was human blood. It was horrible to look at, a souvenir of battle, of killing—the kind of thing that should be buried with its owner or left where it was found, far away from this American living room. Jerry’s excitement over it disgusted her. “Your parents saw this?”
“Oh, yeah. Dad thought it was great. We’re all real proud of Mike.”
“You should treat it carefully. With respect, you know? It belonged to a soldier.”
Jerry laid the flag out on the back of the sofa and sat back down. “A Jap soldier. Did you know they kill themselves if they lose a battle? They hold grenades up to their chests”—he demonstrated with his hands—“and explode them!” He demonstrated exploding as well, throwing his arms into the air and hurling his body back against the couch.
June couldn’t stand the performance. “Why don’t you put the flag away? It’s almost time for bed.”
“Aww, I’m not tired.”
“Well, put it away, anyway, and we’ll finish this game of checkers.”
He slouched back to his room, returned, jumped back onto the sofa, and moved one of his checkers with barely a look at the board. “Do you think the war will still be going on when I get old enough to fight?”
“I certainly hope not! They say we’ve got the Germans beat—it’s only a matter of time.”
“It’s not fair.” He jumped over two of her checkers and eagerly grabbed them off the board.
“That’s an awful thing to say, Jerry!” She didn’t make a move, and he crossed his arms. “You’ll be lucky if you never have to fight. Boys are dying every day. I just saw an old friend of
mine today who lost his leg.”
“But they’re heroes!”
“There are other ways to be a hero. Helping people, making the world a better place.”
Jerry slumped back against the sofa, unimpressed. “Maybe there’ll be another war when I get older. It’s your move.”
She didn’t care if he was only a child; Jerry had made her angry. “I’m tired of playing. It’s time for you to go to bed.”
“It’s only nine forty!”
Before she could respond, the doorbell rang. Jerry looked at June, hopeful, but she shook her head. “Bed. Go get ready while I see who’s at the door.”
She felt nervous as she peered through the front window, unable to make anything out in the darkness. Who would be calling this late and on Christmas? She opened the door to reveal Dr. Cantor, the dark-haired scientist from Y-12, shivering on the doorstep in a worn coat, carrying a large envelope. He looked surprised. “Is Captain Greeley here?”
“No, he’s at a party. I’m the babysitter.”
“Oh. That’s inconvenient. I need signatures on these documents.”
“Right now?”
“The Army works around the clock.”
“I’m not expecting him back for another hour or so, but I could give them to him when he returns.”
Dr. Cantor studied her face. “You work at Y-12, right?”
She nodded. He thrust his hand forward. “Sam Cantor.”
She shook his hand and replied, “June Walker.”
“I can’t leave these with you. They’re top secret.”
“I understand. Are you sure the signatures can’t wait until the morning? It is Christmas, after all.”
“Is it? I’d forgotten.”
June let out a snicker. Dr. Cantor grimaced. “I’m sorry,” she said. “I didn’t mean to be rude. You can come in, if you like, to wait for the captain.” She opened the door wider, unsure if this was the proper thing to do or not.
Perhaps he could sense her uncertainty because his own face relaxed. “No, you’re right. It can wait until the morning. Sorry to disturb you, Miss Walker.”
“That’s all right.”
“Good night. I’ll be seeing you in the cafeteria, I suppose.” He tipped his hat and turned back into the night. She closed the door against the cold night air, aware of a faint feeling of disappointment.
