Even though she doesn’t want to leave, Mother’s sense of propriety inspires, “My husband will be wondering where I am if we don’t return home soon.“
“How is Fred?”
“Very well, thank you.”
“I’ve neglected to ask how you met the dear man!”
I shift a bit to see Mother’s face as her blue eyes shine on her favorite subject. “Fred and I were high school sweethearts. Unlike May, I didn’t go to an all-girls school. My mother didn’t approve of Fred, a blue-collar man with little prospects.” Her eyelashes fall to the tea in her hands as she smiles. “I was too young to care about such things, and I’m glad for that. All I knew was that I loved him.” She sets her saucer down with little rattle. “Fred is kind. A man of strong morals. Hard-working, too.”
Mrs. Cocker offers a knowing look. “And he makes you laugh! I noticed!”
“Yes, he does. Whenever I’m mad, I find I can’t stay that way for long.”
“Wish I could say the same!” Mrs. Cocker rolls her eyes, taking one final sip and setting down the elegant snifter glass. “But I love him so. And I wouldn’t change a hair on his head. May dear, have you had many letters from my Jerald?”
“I have, ma’am.”
“I have received a few myself. Not enough, I warrant.” Interested at the change in my expression, she asks, “How many have you received, dear?”
“Forty-seven.”
She slaps the armrest. “Forty-seven!”
“Yes, ma’am.”
Looking to my mother for confirmation she exclaims, “My word! That is devotion! Well, if you must go, let me walk you to the door.” We follow as she happily continues, “Jerald and I share a love of reading. Ask him to write, and you’re sure to see a scowl. Don’t misunderstand me, he was a strong student save for when creative writing was involved. Then it was the same as getting him to say more than three words at a time, only worse because it was permanent. He would labor over those papers more than any other. If he has written you forty-seven, rest assured you have left your mark.”
Archie is waiting at the front door.
He helps Mother into her coat first.
I am next, and I quietly thank him under my breath, because Mrs. Cocker is still talking.
“I received some letters as well, mind you there were only five. And can you believe I thought that was generous?!” She laughs and waves away my attempt to make her feel better. “I’m thrilled! To hear him so inspired warms my heart on a day when I sorely needed it.” She lifts my chin. “You are a lovely girl and there’s a sharpness to your eyes that tells me your intelligence is greater than most. That coupled with your good-natured temperament and I’m quite pleased.” Dropping her hand she turns to my Mother. “Dottie, it was an absolute gift your stopping by. And I don’t mean the pie, although that was truly the best rhubarb I have ever tasted, upon my word! We are going back to D.C. tomorrow, I regret to say for many reasons, but can I call on you when we return? Perhaps you will have tea again? Or if you’re so obliged, more sherry?”
Mother laughs, “Without question there will be more sherry. I look forward to it. Have a prosperous time in Washington.”
On the ride home, Mother remarks, “What a kind and gracious woman.”
I agree by smiling only, because I’m quite struck by Mrs. Cocker’s approval. To have a respectable woman such as she so directly say that I am deserving of her son’s admiration.
There is something special about that which I will hold onto for all of my days.
34
JERALD
M y Dearest May,
Truth be told, I’m hoping there are letters from you out there somewhere. As I’ve not been back to America, I’m afraid they’re waiting at base for me in Norfolk. All of us are extra homesick for this very reason.
Some have been envying those who are land-based for their ability to receive letters from home. But our food is better. They feed us very well in the Navy, steak and lobster and more. Not sure if the trade off is worth the full stomach. Food is available for us at any hour, not just mealtimes. Anytime we need to eat, food is in the galley. And coffee, we drink that by the gallons.
We can receive telegrams for the important things, like a death or a birth. Because of Pops and his connections in Washington, I received one about Hank enlisting. Didn’t get my grubby mitts on it for three weeks.
But Hank and I won’t run into one another, I’m afraid. A damn shame. I’m not even sure if he’s shipped off yet. I can picture his face aboard his first aircraft carrier. How happy he must be.
Between you and I, I’m awful proud of him. And the surprise wasn’t too big over here. Hank isn’t one to twiddle his thumbs. It’s not in his blood, nor mine.
Speaking of not twiddling my thumbs, I’ve been thinking about something. Hear me out. When I get back to Georgia, if you’re still my girl like I think you are, I want to make you my wife. Don’t know how you feel about that. But we may as well get to the business of spending our lives together on account of my feelings for you have only grown. The boys here say I’m just homesick, but I don’t know. Do you believe in true love?
Yours,
Jerald Cocker
M y Dearest May,
About that marriage proposal. I meant it.
Perhaps you’re reading this letter first. In that case, sift through them until you find the one dated March 15, 1945, where I declared my intentions. Who knows when you’re reading these, but that was the first of the bunch.
I’ve been giving it a lot of thought. I figure marriage is a commitment, a decision two people make to go through the highs and
