Songbird Under a German Moon (17 page)

“The show must go on. Everyone knows that,” Betty mumbled through the side of her mouth. “But somehow it doesn't seem right, does it, Irene?”

“I know, but we can't think about Edward right now. Or even about Kat. We have almost two thousand guys out there that want to be home—and we're going to help them forget that longing for a couple of hours. We're going to bring home to them.”

The Johnson Sisters were to kick off the show, but instead of only dancing tonight, Mickey had worked with them to add some comedy to their routine.

Mickey introduced them and the girls hustled out. They started by introducing themselves, and then they turned to each other.

“You know, Pearl. I hear the Germans started the war because they wanted the world for their living room,” Shirlee said.

“Oh, like a new sofa?” Pearl smirked.

Laughter filled the auditorium.

“No, not like that. More room to live. To spread out. To build their houses.” Shirlee nodded.

“Really?” Pearl scratched her head. “Did they get what they wanted?”

“I think so,” Esther, the third sister butted in. “Why, the other day I was cruising around town, and I saw there's a lot of room now—where the buildings used to be!”

More laughter sounded, even louder than before, and the back curtain rose to show a living room painted on one of the sets. Betty turned her view offstage, looking for Oskar in the back, wondering how he felt about one of Wagner's irreplaceable sets being painted over for a thirty-second joke. But Oskar wasn't anywhere in sight.

The sisters danced for a while, spinning, twirling, and doing complicated footwork in unison, and then Pearl paused and pointed
to the audience. “Hey soldier, bet you can't do this!” After that, the cartwheels started, and with each spin, the guys cheered, perhaps because of the way they cartwheeled in unison, or maybe because their bloomers showed as they flipped upside down.

The band did a few numbers and then it was time for Betty, Irene, and Dolly to do their Andrews Sisters song.

“You've got to accentuate the positive, eliminate the negative,” they sang. And although Betty smiled and swayed just as she was supposed to, nothing seemed positive about this situation. Betty was so focused on just getting the words out that she forgot to look for Frank. As the song's last measure began, she frantically scanned the crowd. She finally spotted Frank and smiled. Then she glanced one row forward to where a man—the man from the jeep—was waving his hands and pointing to his tall, dark-haired buddy. Betty offered the soldier a friendly wave as she held the last note. The man's face brightened, and Betty felt lighter. The smile she now offered was real. It was amazing how that one small gesture could brighten someone's day—even her
own
day.

They exited the stage. Betty was about to sit down in one of the stage chairs when Dolly approached. “Mickey said to find you. He said be prepared to sing if Kat can't make the last song. He says you've seen her practice and that you'll know what to do.”

Betty's eyes widened as she thought through the words to “America the Beautiful.” She didn't have too much time to think, though, because Kat's “Bugle Boy” number was coming up next, and Betty wanted to be standing on the side, cheering her on.

Kat paced the side stage, dabbing her eyes, her jaw set with determination. Then, as the curtain went up, she hustled out with a huge
smile. If it wasn't for the obvious puffiness around Kat's eyes, Betty was sure that no one would have noticed anything was wrong.

Kat paused in the center of the stage and then gave a half-salute. At the same time, Mickey entered from the other side and addressed the crowd.

“Listen guys, we want you to know that tonight is Kat's last night in Bayreuth. She's flying home tomorrow.”

“Hey, Kat, take us with you!” one young soldier called out.

“Yeah, Kat, I'm short enough to fit in your suitcase,” another called.

Laughter filled the room.

“Don't worry, boys, even though I'm flying home, I'll always carry you right here.” She pointed to her heart, just as she'd rehearsed.

Then, on cue, the music started and Kat began to sing. She sang loud and clear, and Betty prayed a silent prayer that she'd remain strong. The soldiers got into the music. Many jumped to their feet, boogying with the music, and then more joined them. Soon everyone was standing, dancing, and clapping along.

Kat had made it halfway through the song when Betty saw her exterior start to crumble. First, her eyes widened, as if the reality of the news hit her. Then her feet stopped moving. Her chin trembled as large tears filled her eyes.

“He's the boogie-woogie bugle boy of—Company B. And when he played—” Kat's words caught in her throat, and she placed her hand over her mouth. The bandleader instructed the band to replay the lead-in again, but Kat shook her head. The music stopped, and then the clapping. Silence filled the auditorium. Betty wondered if
she should go to Kat, help her off the stage. While everyone watched, it looked like no one knew what to do.

“I can't do this. I don't want to live like this—” Kat turned and left the stage, pushing through the huddle of performers who'd assembled in the wings to watch. Billy, the drummer, jumped from his stool and was right on her heels. As he passed, Mickey grabbed his arm.

“Let her go.”

“But she's so upset.” Billy looked down at the drumsticks still in his hands. “Everyone can't just stand here and watch her leave.”

“Yes, they can. Kat needs time. Give her a few minutes to get some fresh air.” Mickey combed his fingers through his hair, and then he set his chin in determination.

“All of you,” Mickey called out so loudly Betty was sure the audience heard. “No one goes anywhere.” Then he lowered his voice. “The show's going on. There's nothing we can do for Kat now. Nothing anyone can do.”

With slumped shoulders, Billy trudged to his drums. The band waited, and the soldiers started to murmur, as if they were trying to figure out what had just happened.

“Who's up next?” Mickey asked.

“It's us, Mick,” Irene said. “Our second number.”

Betty felt Irene grab her arm. “Okay, get out there and smile wide. We're not going to let this change the show.”

Mickey pinched the bridge of his nose, and they knew everything had already changed.

Betty rushed out onto the stage and took her place with Dolly on one side and Irene on the other. Her hands started to shake and she
placed them behind her.
Poor Kat. How is she ever going to deal with this? First Edward and now the show.
She knew Kat. Knew how she liked to do everything well. Word would get out about this performance.
Another thing to burden her as she returns home.

Five seconds later, the music restarted, interrupting Betty's thoughts, and she opened her mouth and let the words flow out.

Their song was a slower melody that seemed to fit the crowd's mood. No doubt everyone wondered what was wrong with Kat. Maybe they thought she was just emotional about leaving. Betty hoped that was the case.

This time when she sang, she made better eye contact with Frank. She saw him snap a few shots, and then he lowered the camera and smiled at her. It felt good, knowing he was there—knowing he was cheering for her, supporting her, maybe even loving her just a bit.

It wasn't until the second-to-the-last song of the night when Betty remembered what she'd been told earlier. “If anything happens to Kat, you need to take over her solo.” She looked down and realized she was still wearing the same dress, and she hadn't even thought through all the lyrics in her mind, but as the last note ended on the jazzy number, she knew she was up.

Betty placed her hands over her stomach and took a deep breath. The lights went out and as quietly as she could, she walked onto the stage. She paced herself, guessing where the center was, and hoping the spotlight could find her. Finally, reaching what she thought was the middle, she turned toward the crowd. They were silent, almost as if they weren't even there. Betty drew in another deep breath and then started with one single note.

“O—.” She held the note, feeling it fill the room, sweeping over the heads of the audience, reflecting off the wood-paneled walls, and returning to her once again.

In an instant, the spotlight hit her. It was slightly to her right, but the technician quickly adjusted. Two seconds later the band picked up the same note. Then Betty let the first syllable, the first note, develop into the beautiful, heart-felt song.

“O beautiful for spacious skies, for amber waves of grain.” She scanned the crowd but this time she didn't look at Frank. She could only think that this was Kat's song—a song Edward would have loved to hear. “For purple mountain majesties, above the fruited plain—.”

Betty sang, and thankfully, the words came. Before she knew it, the song ended, and the soldiers were on their feet once more. She smiled and waved, and was walking off the stage when she noticed something out of the corner of her eye. It was Oskar. He was standing on the opposite side of the stage from everyone else. And he was weeping—his hands covered his face and his shoulders shook. Betty didn't know if it was because of the music or because of Kat's news. She imagined both played a part.

Frank took his time exiting the auditorium with the other guys, each one engaged in conversation with friends. All of them wondering what was wrong with Kat.

He was about to exit through the lobby when he noticed someone he recognized. It was the woman—that singer—from the cafe
the other night.
What did Art say her name was again? Magdalena—that's right.

Frank approached and he saw the woman's face was pale—even more so than the first night he'd seen her.

“Magdalena, it's good to see you.” Frank extended his hand. She looked at it, and the look on her face said that shaking it was almost too much work, but then—forcing a smile—she extended her hand.

“Hello. I am sorry. I do not remember your name. So many men I have met, but I know you are Art's friend.”

“Frank. My name is Frank. I'm a photographer, like Art—in fact that's what I was doing here tonight.” He wiggled the camera back and forth in his grip.

The woman nodded, but she seemed lost in her own thoughts.

“So—” Frank tried to fill in the conversation. “Did you see the performance tonight?”

The woman lifted her head as if realizing he was still talking to her. “No. I mean, yes. Just last song. That woman at end—she has very beautiful voice.”

“I think so too.” Frank smiled. “Her name is Betty, she's a friend. Would you like to meet her? I can take you backstage.”

The woman took a step back. “No. Not tonight.” She looked down at her blouse and skirt. “I am not dressed for it. Another night perhaps.” Then she took two more steps back. “I will see you another time. I must go.”

“Sure, see you later.” Frank ran a hand down his cheek, wondering what that was all about. The night was filled with mystery, but tonight of all nights, nothing could hinder his excitement.

Tonight I'm going to get Betty to agree that we should spend more time together.

Frank's mind told him he was doing it for work—to ensure he was invited to the performers' inner circle. Only then would he be able to keep an eye on what was happening at the Festspielhaus.

But his heart—well, his heart told him something completely different.

The mood was sober as they wrapped things up after the show. Betty hung up her gown, put her USO uniform back on, and approached the others circled by the back door.

“So what's the plan?” she asked, scanning the others' faces.

“We're trying to decide if we should head over to the canteen or back to the house to check on Kat. We assume that's where she went since she's not around here.”