by Langdon, L.
‘Boston Charlie’ was a change of pace. It was a nonsense song that Sven had dredged up from ‘Pogo,’ a comic strip that he doted on. Actually, Gerri hadn’t had that much to do. The song was sung to the tune of ‘Deck the Halls with Boughs of Holly.’ All she had done was to create an arrangement where it was sung as a duet—Sven and her—with a fast pace and alternating lines between them. Not only had it been fun to practice singing for humor, but it had provided an excuse for her to practice privately with Sven. Gerri had even used that opportunity to sing him a ballad or two. The look of longing on his face had been worth her extra frustration.
“Sven,” Mindy asked, “What were you and that old man talking about?”
John frowned. “Mr. Koch? He’s a disagreeable old cuss. The nurses can’t stand him.”
Gerri listened anxiously. She, too, had noticed their interaction. Sven’s body language had reminded her unpleasantly of his encounter with Knox and his friend in the Arctic Saloon.
Sven hesitated. Reluctantly, he said, “Yes, he’s a nasty one—even though he talked as though he was doing me a friendly favor.” Sven mimicked an old man’s raspy voice. “He said, ‘You’d better be careful. Your girl friend is being mighty friendly with that Negro doctor.’”
Everyone looked at Gerri, who shrugged in puzzlement.
“No, that’s the thing,” Sven elaborated. “He was looking at you, Mindy.”
“So, what did you say?”
“I said ‘she’s not my girlfriend. Furthermore, she’s a grown woman, and she doesn’t need anyone’s help in deciding whom to like. Don’t you agree?’”
“Is that all? He looked awfully scared.” Gerri looked at Sven sternly.
Sven looked abashed. “I might have scowled at him a little bit.” Gerri shook her head in mock resignation, but she didn’t reply.
After the ensuing laughter died down, John turned to Mindy: “Don’t worry, nobody listens to what Mr. Koch says.”
Mindy reached out and squeezed John’s hand. “I certainly won’t.”
Later, as Gerri was trying to go to sleep, that scene kept coming back to her mind. She was forced to admit that her mother had a point. Even if most people were accepting, being in an inter-racial relationship meant being constantly on guard for the ‘nasty ones.’
Chapter 40
As the days went on—through the Christmas vacation and into January—Gerri found herself spending more and more time at Sven’s house. She wanted to give Mindy privacy, as she and John were spending more time together. She also found that she could usually get work done at Sven’s. He didn’t constantly demand her attention. If he knew that she was working, he simply turned to one of a variety of other activities, including painting, reading, or just chores around the house.
She had discovered his cache of books on the black experience. When she remarked on them, he seemed somewhat self-conscious, so she didn’t dwell on them. They included some that she had not read, so she had asked to borrow some, which seemed to please him.
On this early January day, however, she had a different goal. She had promised herself that today she would finish and mail the letter to her family. This was the important one—the one where she disavowed her hasty promise to her mother. Sven was in his studio painting, so this was an ideal time for her to get it done. But it was getting dark already and she still hadn’t finished.
She had finished most of the letter, but not the hard part. And, as if composing the message wasn’t hard enough, she had to word it in a way that would seem innocuous to her sisters. For they would see it. Olivia, as the family scribe, had told Gerri that both Marilyn and Joetta devoured all of her letters. Nor was it gracefully possible to send a separate letter solely to Olivia. Marilyn and Joetta were assigned the task of getting the mail from the mailbox on their way home from school. Any letter addressed to Olivia would double their already intense interest. So somehow the message had to be cryptic—understandable to Olivia, but opaque to her sisters.
She looked back over what she had already written. You’re stalling, girl! She had written, as always, about her experiences in the classroom and about the kids that she taught. Marilyn in particular was fascinated by this. It was a view into a world so different from her high school experience. One where the students could worry about their grades, their crushes, or about the fortunes of the high school basketball team—without having their lives dominated by the tension of the newly instituted school integration.
She had written about their Christmas caroling. They had enjoyed their experience at the hospital so much that they had looked for other opportunities to perform. A casual remark to Sharon Ingram—who, unknown to Gerri, assisted the music teacher with the high school choir—got them an invitation to join a holiday program after school. That performance had won Gerri considerable praise from the students.
One student’s reaction was especially gratifying because it caused a turnaround in her class. Barbara Pruitt, a student that Gerri had been struggling to reach, came up to her and said, “You sing so beautifully.” She then paused uncomfortably, and added, “I always tell people that I can’t do math because I’m a music person. But after hearing you… I’m going to try harder in geometry, Miss Barton. I really am.”
Gerri had written about her Christmas—how happy it was even though she missed them all. She told them how she and Mindy decorated Mindy’s apartment and supplied their own Christmas tree (but not that Sven helped to get it). She told them how pleased she was to get their telephone call (but not how relieved she was that she was there to receive it rather than at Sven’s).
She had not told them about the mistletoe incident: “Come stand here in the doorway,” Sven had said with a sly look.
Gerri looked up. “What’s that hanging there?”
“Mistletoe. Even friends can kiss under mistletoe.”
Gerri felt a thrill of excitement, but she had to make at least a token protest, lest she be thought hopelessly gullible. “That’s not mistletoe. It looks like a sprig of spruce from our Christmas tree.”
“It’s Alaskan mistletoe.” Sven did his best to look innocent.
“Mindy, come look at this. What does it look like to you?”
Mindy gave it a glance. “A spruce bough,” she said confidently.
“Sven claims that it’s Alaskan mistletoe.”
Mindy looked at Gerri and then at Sven. “I’ve heard that.”
“Really? When?”
Mindy smiled. “Just now.” She turned to go to the kitchen. “Let me know when you’re done,” she said over her shoulder. “I’ll show it to John.”
Gerri lay down her pen and, abandoning all pretense of writing, relived that kiss for what had to be the twentieth time. It was not a friendly kiss. It was a promissory note to each other of more to come. As always, Gerri had felt a sense of security in his strong embrace. She had nibbled Sven’s surprisingly soft lips until she heard him groan. She wanted to grind her body against his, but she knew that Mindy or John could come back into the room at any moment. Mindy, at least, would tease her unmercifully.
As they broke the kiss, Gerri had whispered, “I’ll send the letter right after the new year. I promise.”
Now it had come full circle. The kiss that had rededicated her to writing the letter was serving as an excuse to delay it.
She looked out the window again. It was darker, but not completely dark. One of the things that fascinated her about Juneau was how long the twilights were. Maybe a good candidate for a trigonometry project? It ought to be possible to derive some formulas…
She shook herself. No more distractions. She would finish this letter before dinner—somehow.
___
As they sat down to eat, Sven debated whether to ask her about her progress. He didn’t want to nag her, but each day of ‘friendship only’ was one more too many. If he was to convince her that she belonged with him, he wanted to get started. He was saved the agony of indecision, as she unfolded a sheaf of
paper.
“I finished it—finally. Do you want to hear what I wrote?”
“Very much.”
“OK. This is the part to my mother. You remember that I couldn’t just come out and say it because of my sisters.”
“Yes, yes.” Sven could hardly contain his impatience.
She read it aloud:
So, as you can see, I’m enjoying myself. As I live on my own for the first time though, I try to remember the values with which I was raised. Things look different than they did in South Carolina, and less simple. I’ve come to understand—and you should as well—that assurances made easily there look different here. Some of those assurances, I realize now, are not appropriate and must be changed. But even as I change them, I will try to keep in tune with my moral compass.
She looked at Sven anxiously. “What do you think?”
He hesitated. He didn’t want to be dishonest, but neither did he want to say anything that would delay the letter’s mailing. “It is a bit oblique, but I think that she will understand it. And I think that your sisters will think of that passage as simply a bit of soul searching—perhaps brought on by your being away for the holidays.”
Gerri heaved a sigh of relief. “Good! You can’t imagine how hard this was.”
Sven wanted to leave well enough alone, but his conscience came to the fore. “What about your father?”
Gerri shook her head. “I’m not worried about him. If she didn’t tell him about my promise, then he’ll treat it the same way as my sisters. If she did…” She shrugged. “Contrary to the stereotype about fathers, he’s always been a little more laid back about my growing up than my mother has. Anyway, she’s the one that I made the promise to.”
“Great! Do you want me to drive you to the Post Office right now so that you can mail it special delivery?”
Gerri swatted him on the arm. “You awful man. I know why you’re in a hurry.” The same reason that I am. “And you know that the Post Office isn’t open now anyway.”
___
Gerri and Sven agreed that Olivia had a right to reply, so once the letter was on its way, they had nothing to do but wait.
Sven had vowed not to nag her, so he had taken to covertly studying Gerri’s expression every time she greeted him. Finally, almost three weeks later, she entered his house—he had insisted, in one of their few near-arguments, that she needn’t knock, as the door was unlocked anyway. One look at her face and he knew that she had gotten her answer. Her expression was overlaid with worry, so it must not have been good. He waited for her to bring it up.
“Hi, Sven. It’s snowy out there.”
He smiled and put down the book he had been reading. This was another area of good natured disagreement. “You should buy a car. Even in, what?” He glanced pointedly out the window. “Six inches of snow? It’s still extra work walking.”
“It’s not bad. I like it. And I need the exercise.” She put down her book bag and took off her hat and coat. It was also important to her not to be intimidated by the winter weather. Some day, after Juneau was but a memory, she would remember and tell these stories. Reminding Sven of that would only cause sadness for both of them.
She sat down opposite him. “I finally got an answer today.” He didn’t need to respond. She could see him go still. “She understood me, but she didn’t accept it. She assigned Marilyn to write the family letters from now on, but she wrote a preface which was very clear.” Gerri recited it from memory:
From now on, Marilyn will write the letters for all of us here. She had promised to do so some while back and, as I reminded her, we keep our promises in this family. I’m glad you’re doing well and we’re all anxious for the school year to be over so we can see you again. Love from your mother.
Sven’s reaction was swift. “Guilt trip.” Was this why Gerri was worried? And is this kind of guilt trip really going to work?
“Yes, it is.” Gerri sighed. “But remember, she means well.”
“So what are you going to do?”
“Nothing. I’ve already done it. I wrote the letter. And you were right. I feel better for not having gone behind her back.”
Sven expelled the breath that he had been holding. “So we can be more than friends?”
Gerri smiled and patted her book bag. “I hope so. There are clothes and toiletries in here along with the books.”
Sven jumped up, grabbed her hands, and pulled her to her feet. “I’m so glad,” he said, pulling her into an embrace. “Let me take you out to eat to celebrate.”
“I’d love to.” But she pulled away. “There’s one more thing. I want to get it out of the way now.” So it doesn’t spoil the evening… She sat back down, perching on the edge of her chair, and looked up at him entreatingly.
“My mother means well. And, although she’s, um, aggressive, she’s not entirely wrong. Marriage, the way things are in South Carolina, would be hard—painful, even. That’s why I told you earlier that I don’t want to talk about marriage. Can we just enjoy what we have?” She looked at him pleadingly. “Our relationship is important to me, even though it may not last for long.”
Sven looked at her helplessly. He remembered all too well that she had said that, and he had marshaled arguments against it. The hardest part was keeping his mouth shut. But he had to. It was clearly not open for debate now. They had four months until school ended and Gerri was planning to go back to South Carolina. Four months to convince her to stay. There was no guarantee that he would be able to, of course. Life had not always given him what he wanted. But if he tried too soon, he knew that it would just spoil everything.
He took a deep breath and reached for her hands. “I hear you. And I’ll try to shut up on that subject.”
Gerri let herself be pulled back into his arms. She wanted to say something reassuring, but nothing would come. Instead, she put her arms around his neck and pulled his head down for a kiss. She pressed herself against him and, opening her mouth to his, groaned as they danced a duel with their tongues. He reached down to her bottom and lifted her ever more tightly against him. When he finally broke the kiss, he had a twinkle in his eye.
“I wanted to start this out on a good note,” he said, “I had a special night out planned—a real dinner date.” He paused. “But if we don’t leave soon, I suspect that we never will.”
Gerri was tempted to suggest that they skip the dinner out, but she remembered Sven’s desire for an ‘old fashioned courtship.’ How could a girl refuse that? “We can leave now.” She winked at him. I can’t believe I actually did that! “When we get back, can you help me remember where we left off?”
Sven snorted his amusement. “I think I’ll remember.”
“Are you going to take me to the Kash Cafe?”
“No. There’s a new place that’s much fancier. I’ve never eaten there, but I’d like to try it—to make the night memorable.” This was the restaurant where he had met Mindy and John last fall. He could only hope that it lived up to its reputation.
“It sounds lovely.” It’d be lovely no matter where we were…
Chapter 41
He was watching her lips and it was driving her crazy. She blotted them delicately with the napkin and tried to compose herself.
It had been going on ever since they were seated in the largely empty restaurant. It was an unacknowledged contest—who could flirt outrageously enough to break the other’s composure. The unspoken rules specified, of course, that no one else be able to detect their game. Gerri was pretty sure that she’d made him sweat a couple of times, but she feared that he was winning now.
“Are you hiding those luscious lips from me?” Oh yes, he was definitely winning!
“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” She looked at the napkin as if it were the most interesting thing in the room. “I’m not used to eating in a restaurant with cloth napkins.”
“Mmmm.”
The cloth napkin gambit certainly hadn’t distracted him for long. Gerri glanced
around the restaurant and tried to think of another conversational topic. She was jolted to see a woman nearby staring at her. She vaguely remembered the woman arriving as the restaurant filled, but she hadn’t paid any attention at the time. Now she wondered—was that a disapproving stare?
She leaned forward. “Sven, be good. There’s someone staring at us.”
Sven shrugged. “Do we care?”
“I care. There may be some of my students’ parents here. They don’t expect a teacher to be flirting blatantly in public.” Especially not in an interracial relationship…
He glanced around covertly, noting the woman to whom Gerri had referred. He had hoped to allay Gerri’s concerns with a friendly greeting, but the woman wasn’t someone he recognized. Gerri was right, though. Left to his own devices, Sven would be inclined to stare the woman down—to give her the scowl, as Gerri would say—but Gerri’s position was more vulnerable than his. It was time to end the flirtation game. “I’ll be good,” he assured her. He paused to think of another conversational gambit. “Am I allowed to say that I really like your dress?”
“Yes, of course. And thank you.”
“The color especially is very eye-catching.” It also had a V-neck that had distracted him all evening, but he didn’t mention that.
She looked down and inspected it briefly. “It’s chartreuse. I kind of splurged on it last fall.”
“Whatever you paid, it was worth it.”
He looked around the restaurant more openly. “It’s a lot more crowded than when we came in. We came early, I guess. This is more like the normal Friday night crowd.”
Gerri followed his eyes. “It is a very nice place.”
Sven regarded her for a moment. “You know…with all that we’ve been through, this is our first real, traditional date.”
Gerri stared at him thoughtfully. “You’re right.” Then she dimpled. “Unless you want to count the dance in Pelican.”
Sven shook his head. “I enjoyed that…a lot. But I wouldn’t call it a date. I was too busy worrying about Ace.”
