Stars Over Clear Lake Page 18

  “These are impossible to get,” Daddy had said, running his fingers through the nuts as if they were diamonds.

  One night, Scotty drove his dad’s Ford Coupe onto the frozen lake and let me drive. I turned the steering wheel and pushed down on the gas, spinning the car around in circles until we were dizzy. We made out in his car under a moon that was larger than the lake itself. Scotty was a better kisser than I remembered.

  “You have to come to dinner at my house tomorrow night,” Scotty said as he drove me home. “My parents and my sister Kate want to properly meet you.”

  “Sure,” I said.

  The next evening, Scotty brought me to his family’s elegant home that sat on a hill overlooking the south side of the lake. He showed me the short dock they’d put up at the bottom of the hill, where they fished during the summer.

  Back at the house, his kid sister commented on my wide-legged trousers and belted sweater.

  “You look just like Lauren Bacall in the movie The Big Sleep,” Kate said, and begged her mother to buy her a pair of trousers, too.

  We popped corn and sat in front of a roaring fire listening to Abbott and Costello. Scotty and I played Chinese checkers with Kate. I had met Scotty’s family years ago—after all, Clear Lake wasn’t a huge town—but I’d never really gotten to know them.

  They reminded me of my own family in happier times. Kate was fifteen, the same age I’d been when Pete had gone off to war. Now that I was eighteen, the war years seemed like such a long time ago.

  “You’ve won them over. Especially Kate,” Scotty told me later. “They all love you.”

  “They’re so nice,” I said appreciatively. I could see myself belonging to this family, spending holidays and long summer vacations together.

  As 1946 was about to end, everything in my life was finally making sense. I felt content. I had a wonderful boyfriend, my college studies, two caring parents, and I loved Scotty’s family. What more could I ask for?

  “You and Scotty have been seeing a lot of each other,” Mom commented. “I’m glad you didn’t fall for one of those big-city boys. Scotty has good roots.”

  As if big-city boys didn’t? But Mom was interested in me again, so I didn’t risk upsetting her.

  Then one day Miss Berkland surprised me with a special gift. “The Lynn Kerns Orchestra is playing at the Surf on New Year’s Eve. They’ve agreed to let you sing a song with them.”

  Me? Singing at the Surf? It was almost too much to take in! I rushed home to tell Mom and Daddy.

  “We’ll have to come and see you,” Daddy said, “although tickets on New Year’s Eve might be hard to come by.”

  Mom pursed her lips. “Do you really think Scotty is going to be impressed with you because of your singing voice? He wants a wife, not Dinah Shore.”

  “Scotty will be excited to see me sing,” I said, hoping that it was true.

  “Well, I’m not going out on a busy night like that. I’m getting a cough, and that cold air isn’t good for me.”

  Daddy protested but Mom wouldn’t give in. Her rejection stung. I felt fifteen again, when Mom had forbidden me to sing at the Governor’s Ball. I told Daddy to stay home, that he should be with Mom and I’d be too nervous with them watching me anyway.

  On New Year’s Eve Scotty picked me up. I wore a new dress, a daring black-and-white off-the-shoulder gown that swept the tops of my feet and flared out at the bottom.

  “Our last night together,” he said, pulling me close in the car, and I already felt the hole of his absence. He had to go back to school for basketball practice, and I had one week left before I returned to school. It was bittersweet; we’d discovered each other again in just a few weeks.

  At the Surf Miss Berkland introduced me to Mr. Kerns, the band leader.

  “You aren’t singing until the second set, so just enjoy yourself until then,” he told me.

  I sat with Scotty in the booth he’d reserved for us. We cuddled on the same side as I tried to contain my nerves. I’d sung with my choir at college, but this was different. This was my dream come true.

  “I’m going to miss you,” Scotty whispered into my ear.

  “Easter break,” I reminded him. “And you’ll write every week. Promise me.”

  “I promise.” He smiled and held me closer.

  Someone bumped into our table, and we turned to see Lance Dugan, who peered at us through bloodshot eyes, his tie already loosened and his suit coat unbuttoned. One chubby hand held a bottle of beer, while the other held the hand of a girl I didn’t know.

  “Bishop!” Lance shouted. “You old dog! How’s your hoop shot?”

  “I’m a starter on the team, if that’s what you mean. How’s Columbia?”

  Lance settled into the opposite side of the booth, dragging the girl down with him and spilling his drink. He took out a cigarette and lit it.

  “It’s overrun with GIs, but they’re starting to cut back and filter out the undesirables. New York is a bang. You’ll have to come visit me.” Lance gave me one of his leering appraisals. “The farmer’s daughter,” he said, nodding. “Old habits die hard, I see.”

  “I see that you’ve moved on,” I said, glaring at him and nodding toward his date, a girl who looked to be as drunk as Lance. Her makeup was already smeared, and her bun half-toppled from her head.

  “Let’s just say the big city has broadened my horizons,” he said, puffing out a stream of white smoke.

  “From what I’ve heard, you’ve been broadening them while keeping a foothold here.” He’d been a two-timing jerk ever since he’d given Stella that ring.

  “You’ve always been a little Red Hot, just like your hair color,” Lance said, leaning across the table. “That’s a compliment, by the way.”

  “Excuse me,” I said, “I need to go to the ladies’ room.”

  Scotty stood and let me out of the booth, giving my hand a reassuring squeeze.

  “I’ll come too,” said Lance’s date, whom he hadn’t even bothered to introduce. She stumbled after me through the crowd, but I didn’t wait for her. If she fell flat on her face, I wouldn’t have cared. I hurried to the ladies’ room, where I fixed my hair and applied a bit of powder to my nose.

  The music was in full swing when I returned to the crowded ballroom. I was relieved to see only Scotty at the booth.

  He stood when I came back, his hands fidgeting inside his jacket pocket.

  “I’m glad you got rid of them,” I said, scooting into the booth.

  Scotty sat next to me. He stopped and glanced around nervously.

  “What is it, Scotty?”

  He looked straight at me. “I’m no good at this stuff.”

  “What stuff?”

  He took my hand. “I don’t know if this is the right time or place, but I just can’t wait any longer or I’ll burst. These last few weeks have been the best ones of my life. I’m leaving tomorrow and you’re going back next week, and I know it seems kind of sudden, but I’ve known you since you were a little girl with red pigtails. I’m crazy about you, Lorraine. I always have been. I’m going to graduate in another year and I’ve already got lots of job offers. Heck, I have some from businesses just ten miles away in Mason City. So even though I don’t have a lot to offer right now, I think I have a bright future ahead of me. And I only want to share it with one person. You.”

  I held my breath as he took out a small ring from his jacket pocket. The tiny diamond caught the light and sparkled like a miniature star.

  “You would make me the happiest man in the world if you married me,” he said, holding the ring out to me.

  I put out my hand and let him slip the ring on my finger. It was too large, so he took it off and wrapped a piece of napkin around the bottom of the band, then put it back on my finger. I stared down at it, unable to speak. This was so sudden. And I had to sing in just a few minutes!

  “Does this mean you’ll marry me?” he asked.

  My heart remembered another love, one so passionate
that it had consumed my whole being. But that had been a lifetime ago. I’d been just a girl then, and it had been wartime. Things were different now, I told myself. I was too old to be pining away like a schoolgirl. I remembered how Stella had told me I was a fool to let Scotty Bishop get away from me. Now I had another chance. That alone was a miracle.

  “Yes,” I finally said after a long pause, “I’ll marry you.”

  Scotty took my hand and kissed me. “I promise I’ll make you happy, darling.”

  He was so excited that when the music ended, he raised my arm into the air and yelled, “We’re engaged!” Everyone cheered.

  We danced and toasted our good fortune. Lance Dugan sent a bottle of champagne to our table. I’d never tasted it before and could only take a few sips of the bubbly.

  “I don’t want to be tipsy when I sing,” I said.

  “You’ll sound like an angel no matter what,” Scotty said, kissing me again.

  The band was winding down for the break when I excused myself to get ready for my performance. I worked my way toward the stage, noting that the band was dressed in matching white jackets and black bow ties, and my black-and-white dress fit in perfectly. The bandleader was leading the two rows of musicians in an upbeat tempo, his dark hair parted in the middle and a huge smile on his round face as he turned occasionally to the audience.

  And that’s when I spotted him. In the second row on the end. He was the same as I remembered, except even more handsome in his white jacket instead of the work clothes he’d worn on our farm. His dimple became pronounced when he blew on the saxophone.

  I froze, unable to move. How was it possible? Here, of all places. Now, of all times.

  I stood in front of the stage, feeling dizzy and sick to my stomach.

  The music wound down and the bandleader announced a short break. The band shuffled offstage, and I stumbled after them, hardly aware of what I was doing. I only knew I had to see him up close, to make sure he wasn’t a figment of my imagination. Perhaps he just looked like Jens. It had been several years, after all. Maybe the champagne was getting to me.

  The door to the dressing room was ajar. The men were enjoying their own New Year’s celebration with drinks provided by the club’s manager.

  “Happy New Year, fellows!” One of them lifted his glass into the air.

  “Thank you, Mr. Fox!” another man said, which was followed by laughter.

  The door abruptly opened further as one of the musicians exited the room. He stopped when he saw me.

  “No autographs right now, sweetheart. The band is on break.”

  “I wasn’t…”

  “She’s our singer.” Mr. Kerns motioned me in. “This is Lorraine Kindred,” he said, introducing me to the band.

  I could only look at one person. Jens took in my long dress and my hair and I could see in his eyes the hint of recognition. Of perhaps something more.

  “Jens?” I said in a high voice.

  “You two know each other?” Mr. Kerns asked.

  “Yes,” Jens said.

  I was a statue, unable to speak or move. I couldn’t believe he was sitting right in front of me after all this time.

  “Jens,” I repeated, my brain failing me.

  “Give us a moment,” Jens said, taking my arm and leading me behind the stage. It was cold and dark; there was a small leak of winter air coming from an opening. Jens was thinner than before, but he hadn’t changed much other than that. His eyes still held the same determined look they’d had when he was learning English.

  “Lorraine,” he said, finally acknowledging it was me in a tone I couldn’t quite decipher. “It is good to see you.”

  Good to see me? Was that all he could say after all this time? I’d always expected a different reunion. He would scoop me into his arms and kiss me and tell me how much he’d missed me. Not this awkward, polite restraint.

  “What are you doing here?” My voice sounded strange.

  “I came to United States two months ago,” he said. “Mr. Kerns sponsored me. He gave me job in the band.”

  “Two months,” I repeated. He’d been here for two months. He’d never even contacted me. “You’re here. I thought you…” I couldn’t finish. My throat closed up. Had I been nothing more than a diversion during his prison camp days? What a fool I’d been all this time. I wanted to yell at him, to hit him for what he’d done to me. Those wasted years. Wasted tears!

  “You thought what?” he asked, his voice breaking at the end as he shifted his weight and looked at his feet.

  I swallowed the lump in my throat. “I thought you’d come visit us. I mean, after all my father did for you,” I said, my voice growing angry.

  He paused for a long moment, and when he looked up at me I saw a glint of pain in his eyes. “I did.”

  “What?”

  “First thing when I came to this country was go to your house. Your mother told me you were going to marry another man. She said go away. I wasn’t welcome at your farm.”

  I gasped. “She said that? That wasn’t true! She lied!”

  He glanced down at the ring on my finger. The proof of his words caught the light and sparkled.

  “She did?” he asked.

  I clutched my stomach, feeling suddenly sick.

  “We need to get back. Your number is up next,” Jens said, guiding me toward the stage.

  How could I possibly sing now?

  *

  I couldn’t breathe. The bandleader was introducing me, but all I could think of was the boy sitting behind me, his instrument resting in his lap. The song I would be singing was about love and loss, and forgotten promises. I couldn’t sing that song now, not with Jens sitting behind me.

  I walked onto the stage, and the band started playing. I opened my mouth, but nothing came out. I backed away from the microphone, shaking my head.

  Miss Berkland was near the front of the crowd, nodding at me in encouragement, but all I could think of was how the lights were too bright and the room too hot. Everything was blurry. This was no longer a dream, but a nightmare. I didn’t want to look at anyone: not at Miss Berkland, who was surely regretting helping me. Not at Scotty, who couldn’t understand what I was feeling. And especially not at Jens, who thought I had betrayed him.

  The music started again, but it was too late. I couldn’t sing. I couldn’t even breathe. I ran off the stage, barely aware of what I was doing.

  If the band continued playing, I couldn’t hear it. I could only hear the pounding of my heart as I ran out the door into the parking lot.

  Scotty came out shortly afterward with my coat in his arms. “I shouldn’t have proposed right before your debut. I’m afraid I caused you too much excitement. You looked overcome.”

  “We need to leave, Scotty,” I said, feeling more lightheaded than before.

  “Don’t feel bad, sweetheart,” he said as he wrapped my coat around me. “Forget about singing. We haven’t told our folks yet! We have to wake them and share the good news!”

  He waved at a few well-wishers as we walked to his car. It was just after midnight.

  “They’re going to be so happy,” Scotty said as he opened the car door for me. “Just like we are.”

  Thirty-four

  January, 1947

  I couldn’t confront Mom. Not when Scotty and I showed up at home with news of our engagement. But I was so angry with her. She’d sent Jens away. She’d told him I was engaged to another man, and now I actually was engaged to another man. I felt tricked and manipulated. But mostly I felt helpless. What could I do? I had to see Jens, if only to explain. Just the thought of him sent shivers down my arms, and with those shivers, memories of how I’d felt around him quickly rushed back.

  Scotty left for school the next day with the promise to call every week.

  “Basketball will be over soon and so will school. We’ll be together again before you know it.” He kissed me long and hard.

  That night I held my hands behind my back to keep from f
idgeting as I told Mom that I was going to the Surf again. “Stella wants to go,” I explained before Mom could object. “I haven’t seen her in ages.”

  I asked Daddy to drop me off on his way into town. I wore a simple sweater-and-skirt set and arrived early, before the band had even set up. Last night’s celebration still hung thick in the air. Stale cigarette and alcohol fumes seemed to be embedded in the walls. All the booths were empty. I found one near the back and sat down to wait.

  My mouth was dry and my stomach grumbled. I hadn’t slept last night and had eaten only a few soda crackers. I had no idea what I would say to Jens. I just had to see him, to know what had happened to him these past two years.

  I was alone except for some men who were setting up on the stage. Then I saw him. His shoes clicked across the hardwood floor, and he flashed a friendly wave to the men onstage. He was dressed in a flannel shirt and jeans, with a panama hat on his head.

  I stood up, wondering if I should wait until he wasn’t busy, wondering what I could possibly say to him. His eyes swept the room and then he saw me. He stopped. I gave a pathetic wave and plastered a fake smile on my face.

  I thought for a moment that he was going to ignore me. We were both older. I was engaged to another man. Maybe too much time had passed. But he walked over and slid into the booth across from me. My heart thumped and my palms were sweaty. I didn’t know what to expect. I had to take short breaths to calm myself.

  “Hi,” he said.

  “Hi.”

  “How are you feeling?”

  “Foolish,” I replied, then added, “I’ve wanted to sing here my whole life. But I blew it.”

  “You will have another chance. Do not give up.”

  I nodded, not feeling particularly encouraged.

  “Do you want something to drink?”

  “No thanks,” I said, although having something to hold on to would have helped my quivering hands. “Your English has really improved.”

  “I have continued to study and practice. Being in English-speaking country for two years helped.”