Tessa McDermid - Family Stories (18 page)

Frank put his finger to his lips. Embarrassed to see him in such a loverlike position, she slipped into her room and into bed.

When she woke up, she heard her mother crying. She pul ed a sweater over her nightgown and hurried into the living room. Alice and Margaret sat together in the easy chair. Her parents were on the davenport, her mother huddled against her father's chest.

Her father gave her a broad smile. "Wel , Annie, my girl, you're looking at one of the newest additions to the United States Navy."

"They took you?" she asked.

He nodded. "Don't sound so surprised. Your father's a fine figure of a man, even if he is the old married father of three ornery girls."

Anne grinned at the humor in his voice. But her mother was less amused ."Oh, Frank, this isn't funny!" Tears thickened Marian's voice.

Frank patted her shoulder. "Honey, don't worry. Now that the U.S. is in this war, it'll be over by Christmas.

You'll see."

The war didn't end by Christmas but Frank came home. He had trouble shoveling coal and was sent to the Navy Hospital in Idaho. The doctor there detected a heart murmur.

"Probably had it al his life," Marian told Anne, pinning her hat over her curls. She hadn't been able to stop smiling since she'd received the telegram tel ing them Frank was being discharged. "I know it's unpatriotic, but I'm just so happy he's coming home. The doctor doesn't think he'll die of it but they don't want the responsibility of looking out for a sick man."

She leaned over and kissed Anne's cheek. "Take care of the girls. I'll be back with Daddy as soon as I can."

Frank resumed his traveling, staying away several days at a time. Marian wasn't as upset about his leaving, knowing that he was safe in the heart of the United States. She kept busy with her committees, working with the families who had husbands and sons overseas. The girls prepared packages to be sent to the soldiers and they al endured the enforced rations, determined to do their bit for the war effort.

When Frank was home, he worked in the shed he'd built at the back of their house. People brought him things to repair and he soon gained a reputation as a handyman. He helped wives left alone for the first time in their married lives and he began to feel useful again.

"Not everyone can fight on the front," he told Anne one evening after the war had ended. The town had celebrated with a parade, welcoming home the men and boys who'd survived. Services for the dead or those missing in action had become part of their daily lives, and Anne had been happy to shout and cheer with the rest of the town for the returning soldiers.

Now she listened to her father, polishing the rungs of a rocker he was repairing.

"When I was in the seminary, they used to tel me that not everyone could go to the foreign missions. Some needed to stay here and convert the heathen among us. With so many men gone from Lincoln, I was able to do my part for their families."

Anne stepped back, admiring the smooth surface. "I'm glad you didn't have to go," she said shyly. She knew he'd chafed at being left behind, but she couldn't have borne losing him in the battles overseas.

He put his arm around her. "I did get to watch you grow. Why, you're almost a young woman."

"I start high school this fal ."

He set the rocker on the floor. "High school. I never finished high school, Anne. Should have but I ran away.

Didn't like my dad's strict ways and thought I could learn more on my own."

Anne was quiet. Her father seldom talked about his childhood and she didn't want him to stop.

"Sounds foolish now but I was determined to make my own way. My father wouldn't let me work more hours in his grocery, said I had to complete my education first. I figured I'd be fine without high school and slipped off one night."

"You ran away?"

"Yep. Not very smart of your dad, Annie. Ended up sleeping in a lot of barns and fields over the next few years. Had some good luck along the way but life was hard. 'Course, if I hadn't run off, I wouldn't have met your mother. And then where would we be?"

He put his tools away, his mind stil on that long-ago time. Wiping his hands on a rag, he turned to Anne. "The navy would've helped me finish high school, maybe even go to col ege. That's why I was so excited about joining up. Now what do I do?"

Anne's mind was racing. "Why not open your own shop, Dad? You could repair appliances, furniture, sel new and used household things. You're good, everyone says so," she told him in a rush.

He paused, the rag stil in his hand. "I'm not sure, Annie. That's kind of risky."

"You could do it! Old Mr. Randolph's retiring and he wants to sel his shoe store. The building would be perfect. It's not too big but it's close to town. And he already has display cases built in."

Frank laughed. "Have you been mul ing this over for a while?"

Anne nodded solemnly. "Ever since Mr. Randolph told me he was retiring. Think about it, Dad. No more traveling. You'd be home evenings and you'd be your own boss."

"Have you said anything to your mother?"

"No..."

"Don't," he said. "Let's keep it between us for now. I''' visit with Mr. Randolph and see what he has to say."

Anne grabbed his hand, dancing around. He laughed again. "This means that much to you?"

"Not to have you travel? Oh, yes!"

Her mother would be happy, too. The whole house was brighter when Frank was there.

Two weeks later, he came in at dinnertime and winked at Anne. She could hardly contain her grin, keeping her head down so she wouldn't reveal their secret. When everyone was seated at the table, Frank lifted his hands and they quieted.

"I have news. I've leased Mr. Randolph's shop downtown. As of today, you're looking at the owner and manager of Robertson's New, Used and Rebuilt Household Goods."

Marian paused in the act of dishing up the stew. Margaret and Alice gawked at their father, mouths open.

Only Anne was composed now that the news was out.

Marian put down the ladle. "Frank? Your own business?"

He nodded, his eyes not leaving Marian's face. "Marian, remember our dream? We were going to open a shop and then have a chain of others around the country. It's taken a while to get going but we're on our way."

Marian added stew to the plate she held in her hand. Anne's heart ached at her mother's continued silence.

Why didn't she say something?

"Wel , Frank, if this is what you want to do." Marian flicked her napkin and spread it across her lap. "Now that the war's over, you could find other work, but if you're happy to be a handyman al your life..."

"Not a handyman," he interjected. "A businessman."

She shrugged, passing the rol s to Margaret. "I'm your wife, Frank, so I'll support you. But why did you have to keep it secret? Couldn't I have helped with the planning?"

Anne bent over her bowl. The hurt in her mother's voice stabbed her. She'd known his plans, she'd helped with the decisions. She'd been so excited, she'd never considered her mother.

Except to envision how thril ed she would be to have Frank home al the time.

Marian poured milk into Alice's glass. Frank's spoon was suspended over his bowl.

"I'm sorry, Marian. I wasn't sure you'd be interested. You're so busy al the time..." His voice trailed off, his earlier enthusiasm gone.

The milk jug thumped on the table. "That doesn't mean I don't have time to talk to you!"

Tears glimmered in her mother's eyes. "Don't leave me out, Frank. I'm your wife."

"I'm sorry, sweetheart." He pushed back his chair and crossed quickly to Marian. He pul ed her out of her chair and swung her into his arms.

"Frank! Put me down!"

"No." He swung her around again and she leaned her head back, her hair escaping its pins, her mouth curved in a wide smile. "We're in this together, Marian Cooper Robertson. You're the brains and I'm the brawn."

"You're a fool, is what you are, Frank Robertson." She didn't struggle to get away from him, her hands clutching his arms. "Now, put me down before we fal ."

He slowed his spinning and set her on the floor, smacking her with a big kiss before letting go. Alice giggled.

"We're in this together, Marian," he said again. "For richer, for poorer. That's what you promised."

Marian laughed and sank into her chair. "I did, didn't I? Who knew what I was agreeing to?" She fanned herself with her hand. Her cheeks were flushed, her eyes shining." Annie, Mags. Go get that apple pie we baked this afternoon. We can celebrate the new store."

Anne caught Margaret's eyes and shrugged. One minute lighting and crying. The next minute giggling and dancing around the kitchen.

Married people sure were crazy sometimes.

Chapter 12

Spring 1948

"You look beautiful," Alice breathed.

Margaret nodded. "You're gonna be a star, Anne."

Anne stepped off the low stool and moved in front of the mirror. Her red curls were pinned up, and a shiny green band kept her bangs off her face. The short skirt was the same bright green; it accented the white swimsuit that peeked out from her top. She twirled, laughing as the skirt whirled around her.

"Wil Daddy get to see you?" Alice asked.

"He promised to take an hour off work," Anne said, tweaking Alice's pigtails. "He said he'd put a sign on the door tel ing everyone to come to the pool. He thinks he can boost the audience that way."

Alice giggled. "He won't need to boost the audience. Nobody in town will miss your performance."

Anne swal owed hard. She didn't like being the center of attention. If her swim instructor hadn't prevailed upon her to use her talents to dedicate the new swimming pool, she wouldn't be wearing the new suit, butterflies doing a cha-cha in her stomach. A solo performance was different from a synchronized routine with her teammates.

A few minutes later, they walked down the narrow main street of Lincoln, the precious skirt and swimsuit now hidden by a dark raincoat. Alice skipped alongside her sisters, excitement apparent in each happy step.

Margaret was more sedate but her pace was faster than normal.

They turned down the street to the town center. At three in the afternoon, the parking lot was crowded and more people were walking in from the side streets. Anne stopped under the shade of a huge elm tree.

"I can't do it," she whispered. She was only sixteen. How could she perform in front of al these people?

Alice frowned at her. Margaret grabbed her hand and jerked her forward. "Yes, you can. You've practiced and practiced until your skin's practical y wrinkled for life. Miss Evans said you were the best swimmer of the group. She recommended you!"

At Margaret's sensible words, Anne's fears dissolved. Butterflies stil did a cha-cha in her stomach but her sister was right. She knew the routine backward and forward.

She stopped again just before they reached the entrance to the new pool. Dozens of people stood around the cement deck chattering, their faces glowing in the afternoon sun. Most of the community had shut its door for the dedication of the new pool and recreation center.

"I can do this," she murmured under her breath. "I've done the routine dozens of times."

She closed her eyes in a brief prayer.

The music came on and she opened her eyes, seeing only the pool, thinking only of her routine. At the precise beat, she slipped into the cool water and felt the world around her disappear.

The music poured into her very soul and she translated each note into a movement of her hands, her feet, her legs, her entire body. She flowed effortlessly through the steps. The water rippled gently around her, barely disturbed by the twists and turns she'd practiced for hours. The skirt floated around her legs and she could almost imagine that her legs had changed into a mermaid's tail.

The music rose to its final crescendo, and she raised herself half out of the water. She tossed her head back and extended her arms with a flourish, her face pointed toward the blue sky above.

The crowd roared, and she felt her cheeks flush with pride and embarrassment. Now she ducked her head and swam to the edge of the water, where she was greeted by the mayor holding a bouquet of red roses.

He waved toward the crowd. "Thanks to our own Miss Anne Robertson, the Lincoln Memorial Pool is now official y open. Let's give this little lady another hand!"

Her father was in the back of the group. He raised his arms over his head and smiled. She smiled back, and then he disappeared. She would hear his personal congratulations in the privacy of their home.

Friends and neighbors swarmed around her. Her sisters stood to one side. "Mom?" she mouthed. Margaret shook her head.

When the event was official y over, they walked home together, chatting about Anne's routine, the people who'd attended, the fun of having a community pool. When they walked into the house, she saw the lights on in the living room and their mother sat on the davenport.

Marian folded her magazine and placed it in the rack, smiling as she stood up. "So, honey, how did you do?"

"Where were you? You know how much this meant to Anne!" Margaret burst out.

"Margaret," their mother warned, "I was speaking to Anne."

Margaret opened her mouth and then closed it again. Without mother word, she stomped through the living room. A moment later, her bedroom door slammed shut.

Anne and Alice stood frozen to the floor. "Go to your room," Anne said softly to Alice.

"But..."

Anne nudged Alice in the back. "Go."

Alice stayed for another moment, then flounced out of the room. She's taking lessons from Margaret, Anne noticed. Once she was gone, Anne sat down on a chair across from her mother, first arranging her towel on the seat.

She folded her hands in her lap. "You never came to the park, did you?"

"I'm sorry, honey, I shouldn't have gone to the meeting. Those ladies always spend twenty minutes discussing what could've been decided in two. By the time we finished debating the schedule for the next family conference, I'd missed the early bus back from Des Moines. I did mean to be there. I'm sure you were wonderful."