Songbird Under a German Moon (13 page)

Irene smirked. “I wouldn't put it past this place.”

“Speaking of our number—and not of ghosts—we really should go over this one more time.” Dolly held up the song sheets in her hand. “We nailed the song, but Betty, you really need to add some moves.”

“I don't understand.”

“Sure you do.” Irene moved her hips from side to side. “Shake, jiggle, dance.”

“But aren't we here to sing?”

Dolly laughed. “Sweetheart, if those boys aren't whistling, you aren't doing your job correctly.”

Betty bit her lip. “I'm not sure—”

“Come on, we're not asking you to be Carmen Miranda. Just add a little sway.”

They practiced awhile longer, until Betty had jiggled enough to make gelatin jealous, and then she talked Irene into heading into the auditorium with her. She wanted to hear Kat sing without the
distraction of the noise and commotion from behind the stage. Betty was also curious to see how the music—and Kat's voice—sounded from the seats.

Betty knew there was something different about this place from the first note she'd sung from the middle of the stage. In Santa Monica, her singing had mostly taken place in the canteen of the Douglas airplane factory. To her, “canteen” was a fancy way of saying cafeteria, just fixed up a little, and her voice had sounded the way it always did. But on the stage of the Festspielhaus, her voice sounded prettier than she'd ever heard it. At the canteen, it had dissipated in the air, but here it came back, filling the air, wrapping around her, even without the benefit of a microphone. If she hadn't heard it for herself, she'd have never believed it.

They made their way to the middle of the third row and watched as Kat finished warming up. Soon the band joined her, and they launched into “Boogie-Woogie Bugle Boy.”

Kat was nearly done with her first time through when Betty noticed movement beside her. She jumped slightly, and then relaxed when she saw Frank walking toward her. He took a seat without saying a word and then clapped along as Kat finished the catchy number. As she sang, Kat stepped side to side and swayed her hips with so much energy that Betty looked behind her, sure that a large crowd had snuck in unaware. Never had she seen anyone practice with so much gusto.

“See,” Irene whispered in her ear. “You need to spice it up a little.”

After Kat had gone through her two numbers a few times, Betty turned to Frank. She'd felt his presence the whole time, as evidenced by the goose bumps on her arms, and when she looked into his dark
eyes, she was reminded again how handsome he was. How kind his smile made him appear.

“I wondered if you ladies wanted to walk into town? If your practice is over, that is.”

“Yes, we're done.” Irene stood to her feet. “But I have to wash my hair.” She gave Betty an exaggerated wink.

“How about you?” Frank's eyebrows lifted as he turned to Betty. “Are you hungry?”

“Starved. We missed lunch.”

“I think if we hurry we might be able to get something in the canteen.”

Betty nodded, trying not to be disappointed. Then again, her guess was there weren't too many restaurants around here, so perhaps it was sort of a date.

She waved good-bye to Irene, and they walked toward the front door. She hadn't been out this way before and was surprised by the elegance of the foyer. From outside, the Festspielhaus looked more like a big warehouse, but inside was a different story. She could see how high-ranking Nazis and other people who thought they were important could be drawn to such a place.

When they got to the middle of the foyer, Frank paused, and then he turned around quickly.

“Are you okay? Did you forget something inside?” Betty asked.

“No, I—didn't you see that?” He hurried to a hallway that led to a side door. “I was sure I saw someone walking that direction out of the corner of my eye. And earlier—” He paused, pressing his lips tight.

“What?”

“Never mind.” He shook his head.

“No, tell me.”

“You'll think I'm crazy, Betty.”

“No, I won't. At least, I don't think I will.” She winked.

“Just a little while ago, I was sure I saw someone walking into the auditorium, but when I followed, no one was there.” He placed a hand on the small of her back and then continued walking, quicker than before, almost as if he was eager to get her out of the building.

“I don't think you're crazy.” Betty quickened her steps too. “Maybe there are just weird shadows from the windows or something. Or”—she touched his arm—“Earlier today Irene said she felt Wagner's presence in this place. I don't know what she meant by that, but sometimes it does feel as if I'm being watched—almost as if all the other people who performed here are watching from the sidelines, seeing how we measure up compared to them. It made me think of what that MP said—that there are things to be afraid of around this place.”

Frank snickered. “Personally, I think Mac's mom was taking things too far. Who knows why Hitler did what he did? I think Wagner's music had less to do with Hitler's madness than we think. Lots of other people listen, and they don't turn into crazed rulers.” Frank's arms swung at his sides as he strode down the hill. “Besides, I believe God is with me, watching over me, but—Wagner, nah.” He tucked his hands into his pockets. “Then again, it would make a good story, wouldn't it? One needs to do what he can to make the papers, right?”

Betty couldn't help but smile at Frank's comment concerning God. She always pictured herself spending her life with someone who loved God as much as she did. She glanced over at Frank, wondering
how fortunate she was to meet such a man, to spend time with him, to get to know him. Frank glanced at her, his eyes meeting hers, and then he quickly looked away.

The air was cooler than it had been before and smelled of wood burning and of manure, most likely from the fields. The sky above them was more gray than blue, and two birds fluttered from tree to tree, chirping, as if sending them down the hill to the village with an afternoon song.

“Yeah, I know what you mean about everyone's fears. I think most of them are self-inflicted. Kat was trying to get me scared last night, talking about Nazi ghosts roaming the place. If you ask me, I think Wahnfried is just old and falling down, so the floors creak. Besides—my mom's worried enough about having me here. She can worry enough for the both of us. Creaking floors and disappearing figures is something I won't be writing home about. My family has enough concerns as it is.”

“So your family didn't support your coming?”

“Well…” She glanced at Frank, wondering how much she should confess to him. He looked at her intently, and she felt she could tell him the truth. If he liked her half as much as she was starting to like him, she should tell him. It would be worse if it came out later. If she remembered anything her mother told her, it had to be that honesty was the best policy.

“You're hesitating, Betty. You don't have to tell me if you don't want to.”

“I do want to tell you, but I'm trying to think of the best way to say it. You see, some people back home say I ran away from my duties, but I like to think I just found a new job—a better one.”

“And what job did you have?”

“I
had
a job at the Douglas factory. I was gonna be one of those Rosie the Riveters making airplanes. My dad's been disabled ever since he fell from a ladder two years ago, and my mom worked at the factory. I knew the extra money would be welcome so I applied at the factory. The only thing is, I got fired after the second day.”

“You don't say—that bad, eh?” Frank tucked his hands deep in his pockets and chuckled.

“Actually, one of the foremen told me they were looking for a singer at the canteen. Singing for the war effort sounded better than riveting all day. My boss fired me so that I'd be free to apply for the job as a singer.”

“Well, it doesn't sound like you ran away to me.”

“Actually, that's not the end of the story. I was happy singing there for a while, until I read in the paper that there would be auditions for a troupe of singers going to the South Pacific. One day I called in sick at work, and then I borrowed my friend Elizabeth's car and headed to Hollywood. My parents were worried sick when I called them from LA that night, and Elizabeth wasn't happy when she had to catch a bus to come for her car, since I told her I was staying…”

“Auditions must have gone well,” Frank said, “except if you look around, this isn't the South Pacific.”

“There were three other girls besides me in the final round of auditions. The other three were cast as a trio, and I thought for sure my walking papers were coming. Instead, they said they needed someone in Germany as soon as possible, and I was the one they wanted. That was two weeks ago—”

“Two weeks?” Frank slapped his leg. “Two weeks from canteen singer to Songbird. You better not tell the other girls that. I'm sure they didn't catch this gig quite as easily. I still don't understand, Betty, why people say you ran from your duties. You're serving your country and helping the morale of the occupational troops.” Frank had an easy, relaxed gait, and Betty couldn't help but enjoy walking by his side.

“My brother and his wife think I should have stayed at home and helped my mom. We used to work opposite shifts so we could take turns caring for my father. My sister's still there—but, well, she needs her own care. She's extremely sensitive. We can't let her watch newsreels or read the newspapers—it's too much for her. Everyone thinks my leaving was too much for her too. My mom is the only one who thinks I have a chance in Hollywood—although sometimes she even changes her mind.”

“Also—” Her voice trailed off. She'd said a lot, but she still hadn't said the most important part. “I have many regrets about how I handled things. I took advantage of my parents' trust. I acted like I was going to work, knowing full well I wasn't. And, when I got the job, I should have figured out how to get the car back to Santa Monica, instead of inconveniencing Elizabeth like that. My biggest regret, though, is that I didn't get home to say good-bye to my parents. Since I only had a few days, I stayed with a lady I met at the USO office. I bought my suitcases and packed the few things I'd brought with me to LA—a change of clothes and my Bible. I also bought all the items on the USO's ‘to pack' list, and some other things—too many things—with my paycheck that I usually turned over to my mom. I
think I overdid it, as my luggage showed. After that, I got fitted for my USO officer's uniform, a few pairs of new shoes and some stage dresses, and by then it was time to catch the plane.”

“And what do your parents think now?”

“I haven't heard, and I'm not sure I want to know. My family knew this is what I wanted to do—I had bigger dreams than the canteen—and they all said it wasn't possible. Yet now that it's happened, I haven't heard a word. I haven't received any response from them. I've sent four letters and I haven't heard back—which I didn't really expect with me being over here, but the silence is hard—you know? I'm afraid everyone's upset.”

“But you said your mom thought you had a chance in Hollywood?”

“Hollywood, yes, but this is far from Hollywood. I only got to speak with my parents a few minutes on the telephone before I left. They were quiet, shocked, and worried. Perhaps angry too.”

“Maybe your family's disapproval is like those footsteps we thought we heard when no one was there—or the figures we imagined seeing out of the corner of our eye,” Frank responded. “We think something scary is there, but it turns out to be nothing but our imagination. Maybe you're more worried than they are upset. Like you said, the mail just hasn't caught up to you yet. It was a fast trip.”

Betty turned to him and studied his face. “Who are you? Are you my guardian angel in disguise, Frank? First, you tried to calm the fears of those on the plane. Then you helped me find a ride to Wahnfried last night. Now you're easing my conscience concerning my family—which is not an easy task.”

Frank smiled, lifted his camera, and shrugged. “I like to think I see things that others miss. Or maybe I'm just making up some crazy ideas in order to impress you.” Then he paused and snapped a shot of the town.

“Really?” Betty paused and turned to him. “Well, if that's your motive—”

“Did it work?”

Betty shrugged. “Maybe, maybe not.” She quickened her step, thankful she wore more sensible shoes today. “You'll just have to watch me closely and tell me what you think. I don't get impressed easy, but I have to say, you're not doing too bad.”

Betty had just settled onto her bed after being dropped off by Frank and an MP that he'd talked into giving her a ride, when Irene's face peeked around the door.