The Longest Road (44 page)

That hurt. If it hadn't been for being a burden on Marilys and Way, Laurie would joyfully have finished all the school there was, including college. She would never stop reading and learning, of course, but Mama had so hoped that both her children would finish high school.…

“Finish eighth and then we'll talk about it,” Laurie said, speaking briskly to cover how her younger brother's words had stung.

“If we get in the war—”

“Buddy, hush! I don't even want to think about it!”

“You got to think about it now that old Hitler's taken over Denmark and Norway and Belgium! That English guy—the new prime minister or whatever they call him—Churchill, he was lucky to get all those troops out of Dunkirk! But they had to leave their weapons, so what'll they fight with now?”

Just then, the radio blared out that German troops were marching into Paris. That was June 14, 1940. General Charles de Gaulle, leader of the Free French, vowed from London to fight till his country was free again. Chilling, Laurie closed her eyes, breathing against a crushing weight. Why did there have to be wars? Why did people kill each other when surely most of them wanted the same thing—a decent living and a chance for their children?

That thought prompted her to get out Mary Halsell's letters and look up the return address on the last one. Laurie wrote to thank Mary for paying off the Model T and included a receipt. She said she was sorry Mr. Halsell had died but was glad Mary had a good job, had found a man she could care for. She told Mary that she and Buddy were doing fine, though she was having a hard time keeping Buddy in school and she hoped he'd get over his ambition to be a well shooter like their friend, John Morrigan. Writing his name gave Laurie a warm feeling and she smiled as she closed the letter with an invitation for the Halsells to visit if any of them got out to Oklahoma. There was still a pang for Laurie in knowing that while she and Buddy had waited for Daddy to send for them, he'd been buying food for the Halsells and making over the kids, but the Halsells had taken care of him when he'd hurt himself and couldn't work. No, really, in spite of that little edge of jealousy, she was glad he'd been with folks he cared about, who cared for him. He could have died in plenty of ways without saving anyone's life. That he had been—well, yes, a hero—took away some of the bewildered pain and the cauterizing hatred Laurie had felt toward him when he slapped her and forced her and Buddy to stay at his father's.

As the summer of 1940 passed, life seemed split in two, normal everyday things going on in Oklahoma while the papers and radio were full of horrors. In September, Congress passed an act for the first peacetime compulsory military service, which required all men from twenty-one to thirty-six to register for the draft. That included Johnny. Though she knew it was selfish, Laurie hoped he wouldn't be one of those selected to serve for a year.

In spite of Hitler's persecution of Jews, the U.S. State Department refused to increase the quota for admission. Laurie wrote her first letter to the president and her congressmen after a ship carrying nine thousand European Jews was turned away from New York Harbor. “I'm surprised the Statue of Liberty didn't topple over,” she wrote. “Where will those people go now? What will happen to them?”

In spite of shame, anger, and sympathy, life went on as usual. Was that the way it always was till
you
were the tormented ones? If you felt the pain of all the world, even a fraction of it, you wouldn't be able to live. But not to care, not to feel—that was like the California growers in their big shady houses who somehow managed not to see babies dying in the filth of migrant camps.

Laurie's seventeenth birthday came during the prolonged Battle of Britain fought in the skies between the Luftwaffe and the RAF, which was outnumbered two to one. Battling to protect England from a land invasion, Spitfires and Hurricanes brought down double their own losses. The Royal Air Force men dueled as bravely as ever had Arthur's knights, but how long could they hold out? Laurie felt a bit guilty to be celebrating a birthday without fearing a bomb might explode amongst them, but she didn't feel guilty enough to refuse the little party Marilys had planned.

Marilys invited Johnny for cake and ice cream after she and Laurie got off work. Crystal, thank goodness, was off on business. Johnny came in, wearing clean khakis, fresh-shaved, hair slicked back till it almost didn't curl. The tiredness in his face disappeared as he crossed to Laurie and grinned, taking her hands.

His gaze reached to her heart and held it. “Do I get a kiss from the birthday girl?”

You're going to
. At least, one time, she was going to feel his mouth on hers. Still holding her hands, he started to brush her cheek. She turned and took the kiss full on her mouth. His hands on hers tightened. For a startled instant their lips clung. She felt more than heard the swift, sharp intake of his breath before he stepped back, setting his hands on her shoulders as if to keep distance between them.

“Happy seventeenth,” he said. Smiling ruefully, he shook his head. “Doggone it, Laurie, you're growing up on me.” He might try to pass it off like that, deny it had happened, but with a thrill of woman-pride, she knew that for that naked, unguarded second, he had answered her as a man, he had returned to her at least a flash of what she felt for him.

That was birthday gift enough, her first kiss, bittersweet, seized rather than given, but all the same, John Morrigan's. Even if it was wicked to turn a friend's big-brother kiss into a real one, she wasn't sorry. It might be the only time she'd ever taste his mouth.

“Buddy,” he said, “Help me get your sister's present. Someone'll have to hold the door open.”

“If it's that big, I hope we got room for it.” Way glanced around apprehensively.

Johnny grinned at Marilys. “We measured. It'll fit right there between the sofa and the door.”

“What on earth—” puzzled Laurie.

“You'll love it!” Marilys promised, and opened the door.

Buddy hefted up a square cabinet with doors and put it in the space Marilys indicated, then went outside. Morrigan carried a square boxlike case with a transparent top, placed it on top of the cabinet, and unwound a cord, which he plugged into an outlet.

“A phonograph!” Laurie breathed. She'd seen them in store windows and dreamed of owning one someday but there was always a more urgent need for money.

“When you want music but don't feel like making it yourself,” Johnny laughed, eyes dancing with light she thought must be reflected from her own. “Got you a start of records—hope you'll like them.”

Buddy staggered in with a crate of 78 RPMs. “Gracious Johnny, you must've bought out some Oklahoma City store!” Marilys cried. “Ohhh, look! Here's Louie Armstrong and ‘My Blue Heaven.' And ‘Blueberry Hill'!” She held up another record. “Duke Ellington with ‘Mood Indigo.' I love that!”

There was “Fats” Waller with “Honeysuckle Rose,” “Ain't Misbehavin',” “I Can't Give You Anything but Love,” and more; Cole Porter's hits, including “Night and Day” and “I Get a Kick Out of You”; George Gershwin's “Oh, Lady Be Good!” and “Someone to Watch Over Me”; tunes from Rudolf Friml's “Rose-Marie” and Jerome Kern's “Showboat,” half a dozen numbers along with Way's favorite, “Ol' Man River,” sung by Jerome Bledsoe, the marvelous black baritone. Bessie Smith's records included W. C. Handy's “St. Louis Blues.” There was Leadbelly, who'd served time in Texas and Louisiana pens, at least once for murder, with “Pick a Bale of Cotton,” “Irene, Goodnight,” “Easy Rider,” and other ballads with the twelve-string guitar. Jimmie Rodgers had died in 1933, but here was his music, magically preserved beside that of the Carter Family.

Laurie couldn't have been more stunned if a million dollars had dropped in her lap—or been anything as pleased. Once again Morrigan had given her music, picked out his favorites and songs he thought she'd like. She would treasure them forever. Unable to speak, she gazed at him.

“Hey!” His eyebrows raised as he thumbed a tear from her cheek and spoke softly. “Crying, honey? I thought it was a dandy notion but—”

Overcome, Laurie stammered. “It's—it's—I can't say how wonderful it is!”

“Don't need to, as long as you like it.”

His smile flooded her like sunlight. Dazzled, she could only look at him. “Well, Laurie, let's try it out.” He switched on the phonograph, selected a record, and put it on. Taking her hand, he set his other hand at the small of her back and took a gliding step to “Somewhere Over the Rainbow.”

“I can't dance!”

He smiled down at her. “Sure you can! Just let yourself go with me and the music.”

Melting her, his hand spread almost across her back, bringing her easily with him. He didn't hold her close but she was so near that the radiant warmth of their bodies fused, joining them invisibly. He laughed when she stepped on his toes, swung her as exuberantly as he could in the small space, and guided her back and forth, back and forth, till she stopped worrying about her feet and let herself flow with him. More than anything she'd ever experienced, dancing with him had the enchantment of floating up and down on a carousel steed, lost in the magic, wanting it never to end.

Marilys urged Way up for the next tune, which finished the record's three-and-a-half minutes. “You pick one, Marilys,” Laurie said, wondering if Johnny knew he still had hold of her hand. Couldn't he feel her inner trembling, sense that as she followed him in the dance, she longed to follow him always? Fearing that he'd read her thoughts, she closed her eyes when he took her in his arms again. But surely, anyway, he could read her body?

They were dancing to Gershwin's “Rhapsody in Blue” when the door opened. “Hi!” Crystal moved between the dancing couples and sat down on the couch, crossing her long legs. “I got back early from Okie City and decided to crash the party.” She got out a pack of Camels and started to shake one out.

“Crystal,” warned Johnny. “Don't smoke in here.”

“Some party!” she complained above the music. “No smoking, no drinking! Do we get birthday cake and pink lemonade?”

“There's Coke, coffee, or hot chocolate,” said Marilys, dancing on determinedly though Way's feet slowed and tangled. He said Crystal always made him feel like he had egg on his face and holes in the seat of his pants.

As the rhapsody ended, Crystal unfolded her legs and bent to examine the records. “If I can't smoke or have a martini, I guess I'll dance,” she said. She put on a record and smiled at Laurie. “Mind if I cut in?”

Claiming Johnny, she pressed her cheek to his, in fact, to “Body and Soul,” she molded against him breast to thigh. Flushing, Laurie pulled the record crate out of the way and concentrated on going through them, forcing herself not to glance toward Johnny and Crystal. The woman plainly had his body, if not his soul, and Laurie couldn't believe she knew how to value either. But no good could come from that sort of thinking.

Johnny's in love with somebody else. That's all there is to it, she scolded herself. He brought you a wonderful present, and you'll have the music a long time after tonight. Besides, you
did
kiss him. You
did
have your first dance ever in his arms.

All the same, she could have wept with frustration at the way Crystal had sailed in and ruined her party. Not that she was going to let the nasty cat see how upset she was! When the record finished, Laurie stood up.

“Let's have the cake,” she suggested. “Everyone has to get up early in the morning.”

“You've got to have your special song.” Johnny got his harmonica out of his jacket. He played “Las Mañanitas,” the beautiful Mexican birthday tune, and grinned as Marilys lit the candles cupped in yellow roses on the lovely white-frosted cake. “Take a deep breath, Laurie,” he advised. “Blow 'em all out first time and you get your wish.”

Closing her eyes, she started to wish that someday, somehow, they could be together, but then she stopped that hope, drove it away, and willed with all her being.
I wish you'll be happy, Johnny
.

When she opened her eyes, smoke curled from all the candles. “Well,” Johnny said, “You get your wish.”

“I hope so.” She took the knife from Marilys and began to cut the cake.

Johnny and Crystal came to the hotel for breakfast next morning. Crystal had a sleepy, sated look. Johnny's eyes looked sunken. He tossed aside a paper as Laurie brought their coffee. “I was never sure we belonged in World War One but we ought to be fightin' this one—now, not after England's smashed.”

“I can't see why you get so worked up about it,” Crystal said, yawning. “There's always a war on somewhere.”

“This one's different.” Johnny brooded for a moment. “At least the RAF has that Eagle Squadron—all the pilots are American volunteers. If I knew how to fly, I'd go in a second.”

Crystal's eyes narrowed. “You've already registered for the draft. If you're called up, you'll have to go. But unless you are drafted, it wouldn't be fair to Dub to leave him without a working partner.”

“If the Nazis start on us, he may lose a damn sight more than a partner.”

“Oh, Johnny, they won't get over here!”

“They may if we let England go down the drain.”

She looked at him, pouting. “What about me? You'd go off and leave me here biting my fingernails, worrying about you?”

“You stay too busy to miss me much,” he said drily. “Hell, sometimes I feel like you're married to Dub instead of being his secretary.”

“I
am
the company's bookkeeper,” she reminded him. She smiled coaxingly at Johnny. “After all, darling, you're Dub's partner. What helps him is good for you.”