Helen couldn’t seem to herd everyone out of the door quickly enough. For once, she longed to be alone. She never should have asked about Dirk Voorhees and learned what a dangerous position he was in. The marines seemed to get the worst of every battle. What would that poor girl do if he were killed? How would she cope? How did all the other wives and mothers and sweethearts cope with the terrible losses of war? That had been Rosa’s question, but Helen didn’t know the answer. She supposed some people turned to God, but Helen had derived as little comfort from Him as from her own father.
Once again, Helen’s thoughts turned to Jimmy. Rosa’s fears and her questions about God had brought him immediately to mind. So had Meinhard Kesler, of course. Helen could easily imagine Kesler peering across enemy lines at Jimmy, taking aim with his cursed artillery. Jimmy had answered Helen’s letter, writing to her from France to tell her that his 93rd Infantry division had been assigned to fight as part of France’s Fourth Army in the Argonne Forest. For some reason, she suddenly had the urge to unearth his letter from the drawer in her vanity and read it again.
She hurried upstairs, admiring the beautifully polished handrail that slid beneath her fingers, the gleaming banisters that Thelma had painstakingly dusted. Motes of dust still swirled in the sunbeams from her bedroom windows, stirred up by Thelma’s hard work. Helen sat down on the vanity seat and dug the letter out of the bottom drawer.
The address on the envelope was Joe Bernard’s. Helen had asked Jimmy to send her letters to his father’s house, fearing that her own father would intercept her mail if it came to the mansion. She remembered the day that Joe had given it to her, pulling it from the pocket of his overalls after he’d arrived to work in the yard. Helen had been waiting anxiously for Jimmy’s reply. Then on a warm summer day, with locusts buzzing and sparrows hopping through the tree branches, this letter had finally arrived. She had taken it into the gazebo to read it, opening it with shaking fingers.
Now, twenty-five years later, the envelope was yellow and brittle with age. Helen smoothed her fingers over Jimmy’s writing. His hands had touched this. He had licked the envelope shut. She studied his neat printing and the care he’d taken with her name, then her vision blurred with tears.
She couldn’t read it now. Not after meeting that German soldier today. Besides, Helen already knew by heart what Jimmy had written.
She placed the letter back in her vanity drawer and dried her eyes.
May 1943
“President Roosevelt issued an executive order today forbidding government
contractors to discriminate on the basis of race.”
*
Rosa
*
Rosa walked through the factory doors with Jean into the bright spring sunshine.
“Hey, you taking the bus home today, Jean?” she asked.
“No, I think I’ll walk. I need to save every nickel I can. Why don’t you walk home with me, Rosa? It’s a gorgeous day.”
“Nah, I gotta get home. I’m waiting on a certain letter from Dirk. He writes to me almost every day, but our letters keep crossing in the mail. I wrote and told him about something special, and now I’m waiting for him to write me back.”
“Maybe another day, then.”
“See you tomorrow, Helen,” Rosa called as Helen pedaled past them on her bicycle. Helen lifted one hand from the handlebars in a halfhearted wave. “Hey, here comes my bus,” Rosa said. “I gotta run.”
Rosa shoved her way through the crowd at the bus stop the way she’d learned to do in New York. Her feet ached from standing all day, and she made up her mind to get onboard fast and get a seat, no matter how many people grumbled at her. The bus rolled away from the shipyard with a hiss of air brakes and a cloud of diesel fumes, jammed to capacity.
It seemed to take forever to get home. When she finally neared her stop, Rosa pulled the cord above the bus window and elbowed her way down the packed aisle to the door. She broke into a slow jog for the last half block, hurrying up the sidewalk and into the kitchen. Her mother-in-law stood waiting at the door with an envelope in her hand.
“You got a letter from Dirk,” she said cheerfully. “I did, too, but I already read mine. You go ahead and take it to your room, then you can come out and have a little snack.”
Rosa’s stomach rose right up to her throat at the mention of food, as if she had just crested a hill on the Coney Island roller coaster.
“No, thanks, not today,” she said on her way to her bedroom. The thought of food, not to mention the smell of it, made her feel like puking. She sat down on the bed and slit open the envelope with a nail file.
My darling Rosa,
When I read your news that we’re going to have a baby, I let out such a whoop of joy that five marines came running to see if I was okay. Now I have two reasons to finish up this war and come home. I only wish I could see you, all rosy and pregnant. I’ll bet you’re more beautiful than ever….
He had written more, but Rosa’s tears of joy and relief fell so fast that she couldn’t see. Dirk wanted their baby! She’d had no idea how he would react, since they had never talked about having babies. She’d been afraid to find out. Rosa’s own father had been so angry when he’d learned that Mona was expecting that he had left home, saying he didn’t want a baby messing up his life. Ginny’s husband didn’t want any more children, either, even though Ginny still did.
Rosa’s joy was short-lived as her other fears began to soar. What if she was a terrible mother? What if Dirk got killed? She covered her face and sobbed.
“Rosa?” Tena tapped on her door. “Is everything all right, dear?”
“Yeah,” she sniffed. “I’m okay.” She pulled a clean handkerchief from her dresser drawer and blew her nose. Now that Dirk knew about the baby, Rosa wanted to tell the whole world. She dried her eyes and went out to the kitchen.
“You’ve been crying, Rosa.”
“I don’t know what’s wrong with me, Mrs. Voorhees. I’m crying because I’m just so happy … and that doesn’t even make sense!” She covered her face and started all over again.
Tena wrapped her arms around her. “There, there. It’s okay.”
Rosa let herself be held. Tena’s arms had held Dirk this way when he was a little boy.
“I want you to be the first person who knows after Dirk,” Rosa said with a sniff. “I’m going to have a baby, Mrs. Voorhees.”
“I know, dear. Isn’t it wonderful?”
“How did you know? Did Dirk tell you in his letter?”
“No, it was easy to guess the truth. You always loved your snacks after work, and you used to eat every bite of food in your lunchbox. Then about a month after you got home from Virginia, you suddenly stopped eating. I remember so well how it feels when the smell of food makes you sick. Yes, I had my suspicions.” Tena’s arms tightened around her. “And, Rosa, I am so very, very happy for you and Dirk.”
Rosa started crying all over again. Tena had said
home—“after you got
home
from Virginia.”
For the first time since she had arrived in Stockton, Rosa felt welcome here. Then she remembered Mr. Voorhees.
“I don’t think Dirk’s father will be very happy about it,” Rosa said. She pulled away from Tena and dried her eyes.
“Men sometimes feel scared when they hear that a baby is on the way. Wolter will be worried about you and the little one, with Dirk so far away. Whenever Wolter is worried about something he acts … What is the word?
Gruff
. He acts gruff. But I have known him long enough to know that he isn’t mad, he is worried.”
“Do we have to tell him?” She slid into a chair at the kitchen table, and Tena sat down beside her.
“He is sure to notice in a few months, don’t you think? He might be hurt that we didn’t tell him sooner.”
“Will you tell him for me? When it’s just the two of you?”
“If that is what you want, Rosa. But you don’t have to be so afraid of Wolter. He does not mean to act the way he does. You need to let his words … how do they say it? Roll over your head.” She gestured with her hands to mimic rolling waves, and Rosa recalled sitting with Dirk on the beach in Virginia, watching the breakers crash against the shore. Now he might be on a foreign beach somewhere with the marines, a heavy pack on his back, his boots sinking deep into the sand.
“Are you all right, dear?” Tena asked.
Rosa nodded, wiping her eyes. “I never had a father, Mrs. Voorhees. I mean … at least, not one that hung around every day.”
“Fathers can be very protective of their children. And when Wolter is worried about the people he loves, he sometimes acts angry.”
“In this letter I got today from Dirk, he says he’s happy about the baby.” Rosa couldn’t help smiling through her tears. “I hope it’s a boy. Dirk should have a little boy.”
For some reason, she would feel better about having a son. Dirk would know how to help raise him and could teach him to play baseball and things. Rosa didn’t know how to raise a daughter. A girl might grow up to be wild and independent the way she had. What if they fought all the time like her and Mona?
“Will you teach me to cook?” Rosa asked suddenly. “I mean, when I feel like being around food again?”
Tena reached across the table to pat her hand. “Of course, Rosa dear. I’d be happy to.”
“I want to learn how to make all of Dirk’s favorite dishes for when he gets home. That way when we have our own little place, he can still eat all his favorite things.” And Rosa decided that from now on she would go to church every Sunday—morning
and
evening, whether she liked it or not. It would be good for the baby. Dirk had gone to church all his life and look how good he turned out.
The next day she found Jean, Ginny, and Helen all standing in line by the time clock waiting to punch in. Ginny had the latest copy of
The Saturday Evening Post
and was showing everyone the picture of “Rosie the Riveter” on the cover, painted by Norman Rockwell. “See that, girls? We’re famous,” Ginny said.
“I hope I don’t look like her,” Jean said. “Look at that girl’s biceps!”
“What did your husband have to say when he saw the magazine?” Helen asked.
Ginny’s smile faded. “He doesn’t say much at all these days. And I didn’t think I should stick this under his nose. Mr. Seaborn was right when he said Harold’s pride was at stake.”
Rosa couldn’t wait one more minute to tell the girls her news. “Hey, guess what? I’m gonna have a baby.”
“Oh, Rosa!” Ginny hugged her tightly, the magazine quickly forgotten. Jean congratulated her, and even Helen looked happy about it—as happy as Helen ever looked, that is.
“Will you teach me stuff, Ginny? About babies and things? You’re such a good mother.”
“I’m hardly a sterling example. My sons played hooky from school and ran off, remember? Harold says I smother them too much.”
“But that’s the kind of mother I want to be—you know, hugging my kids and playing with them and things. To be honest, I’m scared stiff. Dirk will want me to be a good one—like his mother, not like mine. But I have no idea how to be a good one. Will you teach me how?”
“I would love to.” She couldn’t resist hugging Rosa again.
“What’s going on, ladies?” Earl Seaborn asked, limping over to them. “Good news, I hope?” Jean whispered in his ear. “That’s what I was afraid of,” he said with a crooked smile. “Listen, you’d better keep it a secret if you want to continue working here. If the rest of the bosses find out, you’ll be let go.”
“That’s ridiculous,” Jean said. “Shouldn’t it be up to Rosa how long she works?”
“Of course it should be,” Helen said, “but society has its unspoken rules. When I taught school, any teacher who was in a family way was let go as soon as the principal found out about it.”
Mr. Seaborn put his finger to his lips. “I won’t tell if you won’t,” he said. “And congratulations, Rosa. Children are a wonderful blessing.”
“I’m scared of what Dirk’s father will say when he finds out. He’s mad at me for working here as it is, and I’m afraid this will really set him off. But I’m not gonna quit until I’m too big to fit in coveralls, no matter what he says.”
“Mr. Voorhees is from a different era,” Earl said gently. “He grew up in a time when it was a man’s job to protect his wife and children. Try to see things through his eyes.”
“His eyes are always narrow and squinty when he looks at me—like he’s shooting daggers out of them. I don’t know how he can see good enough to drive.” Mr. Seaborn and everyone else laughed. Rosa wasn’t sure why, but she joined in anyway.
The happy feeling lasted all morning and Rosa even hummed to herself as she worked. At the end of the day, she walked to the bus stop again with Jean. “Could I sit with you in church on Sunday morning?” she asked. “You always go there and pray for your five brothers in the service, right?”
“There are six of them now. My younger brother Howie just enlisted. And I’ve been praying for Patty’s husband in Algeria, too—although it looks like God answered our prayers now that North Africa surrendered. Wasn’t that great news?”
“I want to pray the way you do. And I need to learn how to be good like all the other women at church. I want to change.”
“You’re no worse than the rest of us.”
“Oh yes, I am. I never see you getting drunk at the Hoot Owl and stuff like that.”
“I have other faults, Rosa. We all do. But you’re welcome to sit with me any Sunday you want to.”
“I been sitting with Dirk’s folks, but Mr. Voorhees gets upset with me because I can’t sit still during the boring parts. He makes me nervous, and then I start dropping the hymnbook and things like that. He has this annoying way of clearing his throat to let me know he’s mad, and sometimes it’s like he’s got a whole pond full of frogs in his throat.” She stopped when she saw Jean cover her mouth to hide a smile. “What’s so funny?”
“Nothing. I’m sorry. I know it isn’t funny.”
“The more upset he gets,” Rosa continued, “the more nervous it makes me. Last time I got out some chewing gum to calm my nerves, and he just about had a fit because I rattled the wrapper during the silent prayer. I can’t do nothing right.”
“Well, you’ll fit right in alongside Patty’s boys. Believe me, when it comes to being fidgety in church, they’ve got you beat. I’ll save you a seat this Sunday, okay?”
“Oh, I guarantee I’ll arrive at church long before you do. If Dirk’s father isn’t there at least an hour early, he thinks he’s late. I’ll be pulling into the parking lot when you’re still in your pajamas eating breakfast. I’ll wait for you and Patty.”
“Okay, see you there.” Jean waved and strode away, her long legs quickly taking her out of sight.
As Rosa stood in the foyer on Sunday waiting for Jean, she began to worry that attending church may not be such a good idea after all. She watched the people streaming through the church doors, and the women all seemed so sweet and soft and good that she wanted to sink into the floor and disappear. Compared to them, her untamable hair and tight, flashy New York clothes made her stick out like a sore thumb. Dirk would fit in real good with these people—sweet, happy Dirk. Why on earth had he ever picked someone like her? Maybe she should wait until after she learned how to be good before coming to church regularly. What if God sent a lightning bolt to zap her or something? She sure would hate it if Jean or her cute little nephews got zapped along with her.
Rosa was thinking about leaving and hightailing it home when Jean and Patty finally arrived. Gosh, those little boys of Patty’s sure were adorable. Rosa got tears in her eyes as she thought about holding a little carbon copy of Dirk by the hand and ruffling her fingers through his blond hair.
“Hi, Rosa. Sorry we’re so late.”
“Do I look okay?” Patty asked. “It’s such a job getting three kids ready and keeping them ready that it doesn’t leave much time for me. I don’t know how our mother ever did it with our huge family.”
“You both look fine,” Rosa said. They shook hands with the wholesome-looking family who greeted everyone outside the sanctuary doors, and one of the ushers led them to a seat near the back. Rosa flopped down beside Jean, jiggling her crossed legs nervously.
“I have a question already and church hasn’t even started. You said I could ask questions, right?”
“Sure. Fire away.”
“Well, I see that they’re doing that thing with the bread and wine today—”
“Yes, Holy Communion.”
“I’m not supposed to eat any of it unless I’ve been sworn in or whatever they call it, right? At least that’s what Mr. Voorhees said.”
“The Lord’s Table is for believers who have accepted Jesus Christ. It’s for Christians of all faiths. I’m sure the pastor would explain what it meant if you want to talk to him about it.”