Lost and Found in Lavender Bay (The Lavender Bay Chronicles #2)

19. Chapter Seventeen

Chapter Seventeen

June 1943

L aura sat slumped in an armchair near one of the front windows in the parlor, gazing out on Bluebell Lane, a recent letter from Edwin in her hand. At her feet, the girls played together quietly with their dolls, getting along for a change. Her mother and father had gone up for their afternoon naps. All the windows in the house were thrown open. The sky was overcast, but it was warm and humid. Her clothes stuck to her. The air was filled with the cloying scent of the hyacinths bunched in a vase on the coffee table.

Absentmindedly, she turned the envelope in her hand, tapping its corners against her thigh. She missed Edwin terribly, and she missed the home they’d created together. Although they had only been there a few years, that home had been a safe haven for her. At Edwin’s insistence, she’d moved back to her parents’ house with the girls, and she felt adrift. Her identity had been thrown into question. She felt like teenaged Laura again instead of the wife and mother role she’d grown accustomed to.

She pulled Edwin’s letter out from the envelope again. Even though the missive had arrived earlier that morning, she already had it memorized. Edwin wrote regularly, and she saved all his letters, tying the bundle with a blue ribbon and tucking it safely in an old hatbox beneath the bed. When he first left for the war, she’d written him every day, but that had quickly gotten expensive, so every night before she went to bed, she sat at the little writing desk in her room and jotted down the day’s events, whether it was something the girls had done or visitors they’d had or some kind of funny anecdote. Her mother had given her some good advice: to make sure all her letters were positive and cheerful. He had enough to do fighting Nazis, and he didn’t need to be worrying about what was going on back home. At the end of each week, she folded her daily letters, gave them a spritz of her perfume (his favorite), tucked them into an envelope, and walked them down to the post office to mail.

As much as she relished his letters—and truth be told, they were the highlight of her week—they were a poor substitute for Edwin himself. She found herself sniffing them, seeing if she could get a trace of his masculine soap-and-shaving-cream scent, but they smelled of nothing.

How she wished this war would end so they could go back to the way things used to be! If only she could have gone with him. But deep down, she knew that was a nonsensical thought. She’d probably only get in the way.

With a sigh, she continued to stare out the window, her gaze landing on the two automobiles parked in front of the house, one belonging to her father and the other to her and Edwin. If she’d ever bothered to learn how to drive, she’d at least be able to take the girls and go places, even if it was just for a car ride. Maybe Edwin should have taught her to drive before he left instead of how to write a check.

Fingering one of her curls, she continued to stare at the cars. Her finger paused mid-twirl. Why couldn’t she learn to drive? She knew the perfect person to teach her.

Tucking the letter between the cushion and side of the armchair, she leaned forward and smiled. “Girls, how about we walk over and see Aunt Lenore?”

Edna jumped up. “And Johnny too?”

Laura nodded and stood up from the chair.

Edith shrieked with delight, and Laura put her finger to her lips. “Remember, Grandma and Grandpa are resting upstairs,” she whispered. “No screaming.”

Edna nodded knowingly. “Because they’re so old.”

Laura gave her oldest daughter’s hair a quick tousle, reminding herself to watch what she said in front of the girls.

Holding each girl by the hand, she walked over with them to her sister’s house on Pearl Street. She’d always thought two children were perfect, one for each hand. And although she hadn’t told Edwin, she’d decided she wanted no more. She knew he longed for a son, but who knew when he’d be home, and she didn’t want to start all over again with babies and bottles and diapers.

Lenore was out back with Johnny, bent over the Victory garden she’d planted the previous month. Seeds of carrots, onions, radishes, and beets had been sowed in the four by six plot. Off to the side was a small pile of discarded weeds.

The girls ran to Johnny, jumping up and down .

Lenore straightened and smiled. “Laura! This is a surprise. Hello, girls!”

Edna and Edith continued to jump up and down, smiling broadly.

With a nod to the swing set at the back of the yard, Lenore said to her son, “Why don’t you push the girls on the swings? But be careful. Remember, they’re little.”

She hadn’t finished her sentence before the girls were running toward the swings, beckoning Johnny to follow them.

Once they were out of earshot, Laura got to the point. “Lenore, I have a favor to ask of you. Will you teach me how to drive?”

Lenore smiled. “I’d be happy to.”

Laura collapsed onto the sofa, tuckered out. The girls were already in bed, fast asleep, and her parents had gone upstairs early, citing fatigue. They’d all spent a nice afternoon at the beach and after supper, she’d taken the girls for an ice cream cone.

Learning to drive had been one of the best things she’d done for herself. She’d had no idea of the freedom and independence to be found with driving a car. To get behind the wheel any time and go anywhere you wanted was a thrill, although she had to be mindful because gasoline was rationed. When she’d written to Edwin and told him that Lenore had taught her to drive, she’d skipped the part about how it had taken her a month to learn properly. The main thing was that she had got the hang of it. Driving tests had been suspended because of the war, so she wouldn’t have to worry about that until the war was over, and she was now driving all over town with the girls in tow.

A yawn escaped her, and she supposed she should head up to bed, but she was too tired to stand. Reaching over, she picked up an edition of The Saturday Evening Post that had been lying around for a couple of months. It was creased and wrinkled from being thumbed through. On the cover was an illustration by Norman Rockwell of Rosie the Riveter. His version depicted a plump woman wearing a kerchief, goggles, and coveralls, eating a sandwich while a rivet gun lay in her lap. The image had horrified Laura’s mother, who felt that fashion had plummeted to abhorrent depths since her own Edwardian heyday, with modern-day women dressing like dock workers. In the past, Laura would have agreed. To her it had always seemed important for a woman to retain her femininity. For herself, she felt it was one of her strong suits. However, even she realized that in a factory, wearing a dress and heels might be impractical.

After a quick study of the cover, she flipped through the pages, saw nothing of interest, and tossed the magazine aside. She picked up her mother’s magazine, Woman’s Home Companion , and rifled through it, looking for something interesting to read. She yawned again and was about to close the magazine when something caught her eye, and she turned back to the previous page.

There was a big box advertisement at the bottom of the page, calling for housewives to work at a factory up in Cheever, New York, twenty miles north of Lavender Bay. It was an aviation plant making cargo planes for the war. She read it again and again. The ad said everyone had to do their part. Said that the wage was good and that there’d be open recruitment the following week, with an immediate start.

Setting the magazine aside, she stared at the wall across from her and thought about this. Opening the magazine again, she read it one more time, and finally tore the page out, folded it neatly, and stuck it into the pocket of her dress. Suddenly feeling energetic, she jumped up and headed upstairs to get ready for bed.

The more times she reread the ad looking for factory workers, the more excited and determined Laura became. With just enough gasoline in the car to get back and forth, she drove over to Cheever, telling no one where she was going. She did not want anyone to try and talk her out of it. And try they would. She simply told her parents she had a few errands to attend to.

To say she was nervous would be putting it mildly. In her thirty years, she’d never worked at a job outside the home. She’d always been taken care of, whether by her father or by Edwin. In school, she had not set the world on fire with her grades; she’d been an average student. Women like Laura got by on their beauty. It carried a girl places. But looks could only take you so far, and they certainly didn’t last forever. Since she’d had children, her figure wasn’t as firm and toned as it used to be. And to her dismay, she’d found her first gray hair the other day.

She was gone longer than she’d anticipated. Twenty miles was farther than she thought, and it turned into an all-day affair. There was a large crowd of women, including a few she recognized from Lavender Bay. After she filled out an application, there’d been a lengthy interview where they asked about her education, her background, and her work experience. The lack of a work history frightened her somewhat, as she had none and couldn’t see how that wouldn’t put them off. But finally, they told her she could report for work in two weeks’ time and to make a stop on the way out for her security badge.

She couldn’t quite believe it; she’d secured a job. And at an aviation plant making airplanes no less! These were certainly strange times.

At home, she parked her car by the curb and ran into the house.

Her mother met her at the front door. “Where have you been, Laura? We’ve been worried sick about you!”

Laura leaned forward, placing her hands on her mother’s upper arms, and laid a quick kiss on her cheek. “I’m so sorry, Mother, I got detained and there was nothing I could do about it.”

“Detained? Doing what?”

Edna and Edith were at her side, clamoring for her attention, each girl trying to talk over the other. Laura dropped down on her knees and gave them a quick, reassuring hug. “It’s all right. I’m home. Did you wash your hands? It’s almost time for supper.”

The girls stopped talking and ran off to wash their hands.

“Laura?”

“Mother, I’m sorry, I promise I’ll tell you all about it at supper,” she said. She ran up the stairs to use the bathroom, her bladder never having quite recovered from her pregnancies .

As soon as she landed in the upstairs hall, she ran into her father, who was on his way down.

“Well, if it isn’t the return of the prodigal daughter,” he said.

“Oh, Dad, do you always have to call me that?” she huffed. Edwin used to tell her to ignore it, but sometimes it annoyed her. “I’ll be down in five minutes with the girls.”

Not waiting for his reply, she dashed off to the bathroom.