The four of us stand here doe-eyed, with rather senseless gazes toward the man standing just a couple of feet away. My mouth falls ajar, and I’m not sure if I can remember how to use my manners now.
The long-winded sigh expelling from my lungs doesn’t help the situation, but—his smile, it’s as white as it appeared on film and in the magazines. Everett’s alluring hooded eyes glisten, but I didn’t know they were a minty-green until now, and his hair is the color of coffee and milk, which differs from the inky black strands I assumed he had. The coloring in the magazines makes everything look a little different. This man is even taller and broader than he appeared—far more handsome than Hollywood depicts.
“Ladies?” he questions, sounding unsure of himself this time. I realize a full minute must have passed since he already asked us if we were okay. It’s obvious we are all star-struck, standing before this familiar man in his unfamiliar army pinks and greens uniform. He must have joined the Army Air Corps. The branch is brand new, and the uniforms are different—quite striking, in fact.
“Yes, yes, we are just fine. Thank you so much for checking on us … Lieutenant,” I respond after inspecting the rank patches on his sleeve. “I’ve been a big, old klutz today, and I knocked a few items off the shelf. One minute I’m minding my business and then there was a—a smell, and suddenly, everything came crashing down. I sure know how to make a big uproar.” I shouldn’t have been the one to answer his question, since I’m likely the only one of the four who has a nasty habit of talking in circles, but it’s too late.
“You knocked over the entire row of shelves,” Audrey mutters between her pressed lips.
Everett inspects Audrey then the other two women before returning his jewel-like eyes to my big mouth.
“The entire row?” he counters.
“Well, not, as you can see.” I wave my hand at the cereal boxes as if my arm is a magic wand.
“We—we th—thought it was a rumor that you were living on the base now,” Greta says, stuttering through her words.
I cannot convince myself that Everett Anderson, a Hollywood heartthrob, is standing here in the commissary on this tiny island. The odds are almost unreal.
“A rumor?” He chuckles at the statement. “No, more like a secret. I was quiet about my move and the decision to switch careers over the last year. I don’t believe everything needs to be public knowledge.”
“You left Hollywood to join the Army?”
“The Army Air Corps,” I correct Shirley.
“Yes, Ma’am. Hollywood doesn’t fulfill a man’s desire to protect and defend his country.” I’m not sure how someone who must have everything could still feel a lack of accomplishment. “Ladies, if I may—could I ask a small favor of you?”
The four of us say, “Yes,” in melodic harmony.
“Do you think you could keep my whereabouts a secret? The other fellas don’t seem to know who I am. At least it seems most of them don’t. I’m enjoying the freedom from fame.” A wry smirk grows along his perfect lips, as if he’s shy about his reputation. His cheeks even blush a little. He sure is something. A dreamboat, as I’ve called him in the past.
“Of course,” we agree, repeating each other once again as we all nod our heads at the same second.
It’s only a matter of time before he’s spotted by someone who recognizes him, but with as kind as he was to search for whatever trouble he thought was going on here, the least we can do is keep quiet about our encounter. “It was nice to meet you all.”
I know my imagination plays tricks on me now and again, but his last glance before roaming away was most definitely toward me.
The moment Everett Anderson is out of sight, the four of us fan ourselves as if we have been slaving over a stove for hours.
“How are we supposed to keep this a secret?” Gerta asks. I’m not surprised she’s the first one to ask since she was the one who started the initial whisper of gossip to begin with.
“I’m sure it’s the least we can do for a gentleman giving up his freedom for our country,” I say. Acting superior to other women on base isn’t a wonderful quality, but I should protect this innocent man and adhere to his plea of silence.
“Right, absolutely,” Gerta agrees with a hint of snideness along her pinched smirk. “I’m glad you are all right, and I’m all right. All of us are fine and dandy, so I suppose we should get back to our womanly obligations now. Have a good day, ladies,” she says, taking Shirley by the elbow while brushing past us.
When a moment of quiet and clarity returns, I realize howunder the weatherI must look after my day with a group of vomiting children, and Audrey—her hair is still a mess. I run my fingers beneath my eyes, hoping my mascara hasn’t smudged too much, but my finger is far from clean when I check for damage. Audrey cups her hands around her hair and her eyes grow wide.
“Of all the days and times,” she says with wide eyes, “we run into a famous picture person looking like this?”
“Well, I’m positive we left a lasting impression on him,” I reply.
“We would have been better off with paper bags, Lizzie.” Audrey pats her hand down the sides of her hair once more and reclaims the basket from the floor. “I still need to grab the crackers. Why don’t you meet me at the checkout counter?”
With my empty basket, I allow my eyes to wander while making my way up to the front of the store. I bet he already left. He seems like a man who knows what he wants and can find it fast. Although being new to the base, I can’t imagine he knows his way around the store all that well.
I peek down the aisle across from the checkout counter, finding the area empty. However, when I turn back to the space in front of me, I find a life size display of Spam. The store clerks stacked all the cans to perfection. They are set into a solid column, one on top of another until I stumble into it. I catch the two falling from the top, grateful to be spared of another mortifying situation. Of course, my gratitude must not have been loud enough as several more cans of Spam fall while I attempt to replace the first two.
“Audrey,” I call out, trying to keep my voice down so I don’t attract any extra attention. “Sweetie, could you give me a quick hand?” My question doesn’t sound as calm as I intended.
