“How long since you’ve had a letter?”
“Three weeks, maybe more.”
“He’ll write, baby. He loves his mama too much to let her worry.”
“He’s doing a poor job of it at the moment.”
Leroy laughed and patted her bottom. “You get dolled up, Tooz. I’ll finish here.”
Lee doing the dishes? Sakes a’mighty. Miracles happened in Sea Blue Beach. She liked to think the Starlight had a part to play.
At the bathroom sink, she washed her face, put on a bit of rouge and lipstick, then fluffed the curls on the ends of her hair. She slipped from her housedress to the new frock she’d ordered from Montgomery Ward and exchanged her everyday shoes for a pair of low-heeled pumps usually reserved for church, weddings, and funerals. Clipping on a pair of earrings, she glanced out the window toward the Starlight.
When she came down, Leroy had dried and put away the dishes, hung the towel on its rack, combed his hair, and tied his tie.
“I checked the mail.” He motioned to the table. “A couple of bills. I’ll pay those.” He reached for a yellowish envelope. “LJ.”
“A letter? Not a telegram?” Tuesday tore at the flap, but she was shaking so hard, Leroy took over and read aloud. “‘Dear Ma...’”
Just a short note to say I’m fine. Don’t worry. Your boy LJ knows how to take care of himself. I can’t pretend you don’t know how rotten it is over here. The Huns are really giving it to us. I’d like to say the blitzkriegs are propaganda, but we hear the Messerschmidts day and night. Us chaps on base are all right. We play cards and listen to Glen Miller, but everyone in England, especially London, is pretty jacked. They’re sending all the kids to the country. I’m glad I’m here, Ma. Glad to do my bit. It’s not just about flying—though no lie, I dig it—but to fight for the good guys. I think of Pa and the Great War. Maybe I’ll help save the world like he did.
She glanced at Lee, whose eyes glistened.
I miss you and the Starlight. Even that little pest Dupree. How is he? I’ll drop him a line soon. Is he wanting to join up yet? He won’t have to wait long ’cause most of us don’t think the president can keep the good ol’ US of A out. Best get some shut eye. Signing off and hoping to dream of you, Sea Blue Beach, and the Starlight.
Your loving son,
LJ
She pressed the letter to her face and tried to breathe in the scent of her son. “He’s all right, he’s all right.”
“Of course he is.” Leroy said. “He’s a Knight. Let’s get to the movies and maybe catch a glimpse of him on the newsreels.”
“I like what he wrote about you, Lee.” Tuesday tucked the letter inside her purse. She’d read it ten more times before closing her eyes tonight.
“Maybe he’ll stop hating me so much.”
Tuesday slipped her hand into her husband’s. “You know the line between love and hate is thin. So very, very thin.”
27
HARLOW
“You told me you lost your senior yearbook.” Harlow handed the yellow-and-black book to Mom, who dropped it to her desk without a second glance.
“I did. For a while. Now it’s found. I don’t understand what you’re doing in here, Harlow.”
“Snooping, Mom. Like all good daughters do. You’re supposed to be golfing.”
“Marge hurt her back, so Wayne took her home. Then it looked like it might rain, so we thought we’d have a nice brunch with you.”
Harlow picked up the yearbook and flipped to Mom’s senior ambition page. “‘I’m going to be a famous model and actress.’”
“I had to write something.” Mom pressed one hand to her forehead and anchored the other on her hip. “Everyone knows those things are all hype.”
“What about these?” Harlow held up the black-and-whites. “These are professional photos, Mom. This is a headshot. This is a stroll down Madison Avenue with Sunny Harnett and Winnie Hart.”
“I know who they are, Harlow.”
