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

24. Chapter Twenty-Two

Chapter Twenty-Two

L aura, Joy, and Diana settled nicely into a routine—and a friendship. They’d requested management to schedule them on the same shifts as they were carpooling together, and knowing that gasoline was being rationed, the foreman, George Treadwell, was more than accommodating, nodding and making a note on his clipboard with a pencil he kept tucked behind his ear. Although Laura didn’t think she’d ever get used to nights, which left her feeling groggy and slightly sick to her stomach, she made the most of it. On occasion, a fourth girl rode with them, a young woman named Betty who rarely stopped talking and had an opinion on everything.

Laura and Joy took turns driving each week. The latter admitted that her legs and back sometimes ached by the time she got home, from stretching to reach the gas pedals.

They were on their fourth night of nights. Two more, then a day off , Laura thought as she hunched over the steering wheel. Rain blasted against the windshield, leaving her no choice but to drive at a snail’s pace .

“Can you go faster?” Betty asked from the back seat. “We’re going to be late.”

In a clipped voice, Laura replied, “I’m going as fast as I can for the conditions. I can’t see past the front of the car.” The current blackout status didn’t help. She continued to crawl along the highway, trying to increase her speed in increments. She didn’t want to be late either, but she didn’t want to risk getting into an accident.

Diana, sitting next to Betty in the back seat, spoke up. “Did you hear about Grace Gibson?”

Everyone in Lavender Bay knew who Grace Gibson was. The only child of the owner of Gibson’s Grape Jelly, she’d led a privileged life in a mansion at the top of the only hill in town. Laura wondered if the war affected people like the Gibsons. Were they removed from all the nastiness? Had money bought them a pass?

Next to her, Joy turned around to face Diana. “No, what about her?”

“She’s gone off and become a Red Cross worker. She shipped off to the Pacific last week.”

“Now why would she do a thing like that?” Joy asked.

“Probably got sick and tired of eating all that grape jam and jelly,” Betty quipped.

That resulted in a round of giggles among the women.

When the laughter died down, Diana added, “Apparently her father threw a fit. But she told him if he prevented her from going, she’d run away and join the circus or something like that, and he’d never see her again.”

“She has everything! Why go off to a war zone?” Joy asked .

“Probably the same reason as the rest of us, tired of waiting and anxious to do something meaningful to help out,” Laura said.

The waiting was the worst thing. Waiting for the war to be over. Waiting for the men to come home on leave. Waiting for them to come home for good. Waiting for things to go back to the way they were, for the blackout to lift, for the rationing to end, for butter to appear back on the shelves. Waiting, waiting, waiting. Sometimes, Laura thought it would drive her right around the bend.

It was one of the many reasons she was grateful for the job. It helped pass the time. Not to mention the money. Seventy cents an hour was more money than she could possibly have dreamed of. She’d opened a bank account and had her own checkbook. No more asking Edwin for money to buy something. Not that he minded, he was such a sweetheart. But she liked this bit of independence. She helped with some of the household bills and had tried to pass off money to Lenore, who’d refused, horrified. Laura got around it by arranging to have groceries sent to Lenore’s house. Her whole life, she’d been dependent on other people; this was a new role she relished. It made her feel good to be generous to someone else.

She understood Grace’s desire to do something. She was sure they all felt it. It was hard to sit home, idle, while the men were off fighting in horrific conditions. Only the other day, the town had received word that Billy Stodges had been killed in action. The plane he was in was on a bombing run to Germany when it was shot down over the English Channel. Years ago, when Billy was younger, he used to steal pies and cakes from the Wainwrights’ kitchen windowsill, with either Lenore or Hilda chasing him with a broom and he, running off with his loot, laughing his head off, knowing they’d never catch up with him. Upon hearing the news, Lenore and Hilda had cried.

As they neared Cheever, the rain abated but the pavement was still wet, and Laura increased her speed slightly.

Betty spoke up. “I had a run-in with Creepy Les yesterday. I hope he isn’t there tonight.”

“Ugh,” Laura said. Their assistant foreman was an ongoing problem.

“What happened?” Diana asked.

“The usual. Hand on my shoulder, fingers practically playing with the strap of my brassiere.” Betty’s tone was one of disgust.

“What did you do?” Laura asked.

Betty laughed. “I told him my big brother was due home on leave and if he didn’t remove his hand from my shoulder, my brother would remove it permanently.” She guffawed. “You should have seen the look on his face.”

Joy piped in. “I don’t know how he gets any work done with the way he harasses everyone.”

Laura sighed. The mood became serious, but Diana broke it and started singing. She was a big fan of the Andrews Sisters and started with “Don’t Sit Under the Apple Tree.” Soon all four of them were singing along with her.

Laura parked the car in the employee lot, and they all hurried to the main door with only three minutes to punch in. Looking around at the stampede of women heading for the time clock, it was obvious that the torrential rain had delayed most everyone.

She was breathless by the time she punched her timecard. The company was strict. If you were late, you were docked pay. And she worked too hard to hand it back to them.

They stored their belongings in the locker room, and Laura, Joy, Diana, and Betty continued to talk amongst themselves as they hurriedly changed into their coveralls, lacing up their boots and applying their headscarves.

As Laura tucked her hair beneath her scarf, they were approached by Stella, a woman who’d been working at the factory since long before they started. Stella was a big, burly girl. Laura wasn’t sure where she was originally from, but she’d never seen her around Lavender Bay.

Stella was tall—not as tall as Diana, but her burly physique gave her an intimidating look. Her eyes were dark, and her face was weathered and lined, whether from being outdoors or personal circumstances, Laura did not know.

“Come on, we better get going,” Joy said, slamming her locker shut.

Diana turned, tying her headscarf at the base of her neck so that her long locks hung down her back.

“Where are you going?” Stella asked Joy, hands on her hips, her stance wide.

Joy looked from Laura to Diana as if she didn’t understand the question.

“I’m going out on the line to do my shift.”

“Uh-uh,” Stella said with a shake of her head. She looked at Laura and Diana and said, “You two can skedaddle along.”

Diana looked over at Laura, uncertain.

Laura planted her feet. “No, we’ll wait. But we have to hurry; we don’t want to be late. ”

Not taking her eyes off of Joy, Stella said, “Italians are our enemy.”

Not this again .

Since they’d started working at the plant, Joy had been badgered on occasion about her Italian heritage. Despite her short stature, she stood her ground. There was a steely glint in her eyes, and she never broke eye contact with Stella, even though she had to look up at her. “First of all, I am an American, born in this country just like you. Second, my parents are Americans, also born here. I’m here to serve my country the same as you are.”

When Stella continued to stare her down, Joy said with a lift of her chin, “Now step aside so we can get to work.”

Stella wore an amused expression, as if she were merely toying with Joy.

“Come on, girls, let’s go.” Joy turned to step away.

Stella threw an arm against the wall, blocking her.

But Joy was too quick and used her short stature to her advantage, easily ducking beneath Stella’s arm and exiting the room with Laura and Diana in tow.

Laura thought her friend was very brave, and told her so as they practically trotted to their workstations.

“It’s not that I’m brave,” Joy explained. “It’s just that I’m sick of it. I’m as American as everyone else. And isn’t my Sam fighting for the United States? He’s not fighting for Italy.”

“I don’t think I’d be as brave,” Diana said.

Joy stopped and looked at her. “Sometimes, you have to. You have no choice but to stand up for yourself. If I don’t stand up to these bullies, it will be ten times worse, and they’ll make my life more miserable than it already is. I’m not quitting this job, and no one will force me out. The work here is too important. Now, come on!”

Laura admired her friend for her conviction and her courage.

At the main hallway, they parted ways. Laura hurried to her plane, where Toni and her rivet gun waited.

Sometimes she wished she could do something else, but no matter what job they put you on, there was always going to be a downside. With any of the jobs, tedium was the greatest enemy. Doing the same thing over and over, day in and day out, could be wearying. To fight, she had to constantly remind herself that if her work kept Edwin safe, then she could do it. It never failed to give her a renewed sense of purpose.