Copper Star Part 18

For a moment, I felt we were dancing around the subject. But I said nothing. I had made a promise to Robert to leave it alone. And a promise is a promise.

Glenda interrupted my thoughts. "I do thank you for your trouble, Miss Louisa, but I just ain't ready," she repeated.

Not ready? Not ready? What was the matter with people in this town? No one seemed to be ready for change. When I first arrived in Copper Springs, Robert didn't want William to be taught how to communicate because he didn't think William was ready. He was wrong. Glenda had been beaten up at the tavern where she worked but wasn't ready to make a change. And here I had a job and a place to stay for her!

Lord, give me patience! I silently demanded.

"Miss Louisa, the thing is that Miss Betty's been teachin' me a lot about the Bible, and I just ain't ready to leave it yet. I spent a life without it and got myself into a heap of trouble. It just seems as if it wouldn't hurt me none if I took a little more time to get acquainted with it before I get on my way."

Just then, Betty came outside with the teapot and poured us each a fresh cup.

"The truth is, Miss Louisa, I just never figured G.o.d thought much of me," added Glenda.

"And He sure does," rea.s.sured Betty. "One of the great mysteries of all time is that G.o.d cares about each and every last one of us. Says so in the Good Book. Am I right, Louisa?" she asked, looking to the pastor's houseguest for official confirmation of theology.

My heart sank; it felt as heavy as a brick. "Yes, Betty," I said. "Yes, you're right." Oh Lord, what was the matter with me? What was happening to me that I thought I had the right answer for everybody? About everything?

I felt a sting as I thought of that verse Reverend Hubbell pointed out at church, when I could have sworn he looked straight at me as he spoke: "A fool's voice is known by a mult.i.tude of words."

Chagrined, I stood up to leave and reached over to hug Glenda. "Of course I understand, Glenda. I'm sorry if I pressured you. I just want to help. I'm much too eager. It's one of my worst faults."

The following day, William and I were returning back from the library when we spotted Robert standing on the front porch, home from his trip, talking to Miss Gordon.

William galloped to greet him, and Robert scooped him up for a hug. But as soon as I reached him, I could tell things had changed. Or rather he had changed toward me. He greeted me almost like a stranger.

"How was the meeting?" I asked with interest.

"Good. It was excellent. Well worth the trip," he answered without elaborating.

"Did they thoroughly cover dispensationalism?" I asked.

"Thorough is just the right word for it."

"And Peter Marshall? Did you get to meet him?"

"Yes. Yes, I did." Then he turned to his aunt. "Aunt Martha, Dr. Marshall had the thickest Scottish burr I've ever heard. Just like Grandfather Gordon's." And with that, they went into the house, as Robert continued his stories from his trip.

As I remained alone on the front porch, it struck me that just a few weeks ago, he would have wanted to share these stories with me.

The next week reminded me of when I first arrived in Copper Springs. Robert stayed away from the house, insisting he needed to catch up on work. There was probably some truth to that, but I knew there was more to it. He was avoiding me. I had hurt him, and I didn't know how to get things back where they used to be.

One morning, as I was getting dressed for breakfast, I could hear Robert's and Miss Gordon's voices downstairs in the kitchen. It caught my attention because Robert didn't like to talk at breakfast. He liked to read the morning paper in the peace and quiet of a new day, he often said.

Do not eavesdrop, Louisa. Do not eavesdrop, I told myself over and over, as I inched closer to the radiator. But then I heard someone mention my name. I carefully unscrewed the cap of the radiator and leaned my ear against it.

"Robert, put down that paper and listen to me," I heard Miss Gordon order. "I said that Cousin Ada wrote to ask if Louisa could come and stay with her this summer. She says she's been pining for company since her Teddy died last winter. I thought I should write her back today but I don't know what excuse I should give her to say that Louisa can't come. You know how insistent Ada can be when she gets something in her head."

I heard the rustle of the newspaper as Robert put it down on the table. "Maybe it's not such a bad idea."

"What? Why would you say that? You know how devoted William is to her."

"Exactly because of that. William needs to realize that Louisa is not planning to stay in Copper Springs. It might be good if he sees her come and go; he'll get used to the idea. That way, when she leaves for good, it will be less of a blow to him."

"Are we talking about William here?" she asked. "Or you?"

Then there was silence.

I could just envision Robert's back stiffening as it so often did when I asked him a question that was too personal, too pointed.

"I'm going to take my coffee and paper into my office," Robert answered, his voice bristling. I heard the kitchen door close behind him.

I screwed the cap back on the radiator and sat down on my bed. After overhearing that conversation, I realized I couldn't get things back the way they were. The connection between Robert and me had been broken.

The sad, apparent truth was that the time had come for me to leave the Gordon home. What made me sadder still was that I agreed with Robert. It would be better for William to realize that I would be leaving soon. With Mrs. Morgan available to help, it seemed like a good time to prepare him for that eventuality.

Since Glenda wasn't ready for my wonderful plan for her new life, I thought it would be wise if someone could use it. So that someone would be me. And, I reasoned, I'd rather work as a waitress, earning money for my return ticket to Germany, than to go sit in Phoenix and play the piano for Ada's bridge parties. I still couldn't think of her without feeling queasy.

By remaining close by but not actually in Copper Springs, I could continue to see William as often as possible. For as attached as that little boy was to me, I felt the same attachment to him. And I couldn't deny it would be wise to separate myself from Robert, too.

My feelings about his absence during that trip to the General a.s.sembly Meeting caught me by surprise; I realized I was getting perilously dependent on him. I nearly slipped up, too, that last night before he left.

I knew the crucial importance of remaining detached. I was even a little ashamed of myself, but I had a renewed resolve. My back-up plan was in place. Maybe this was all a blessing in disguise, I decided. Maybe G.o.d was helping me to prepare to return to Germany, by providing a way for me to separate from those relationships in America that might make it complicated for me to leave.

That evening, after Miss Gordon went up to her room to listen to her soap opera and William was tucked into bed, I went over and knocked on Robert's office door.

"Come in," he said. He barely glanced up at me from his desk.

"I just wanted to tell you something." I leaned against the door. "While you were away, we took William to Bisbee to see the tutor. During the hour William studied with Mrs. Morgan, your aunt and I went over to have coffee at the Prospector's Diner. Do you remember that waitress, Wilma? The one who said I fell off the turnip truck? And then she offered me a job?"

He nodded, showing no expression.

"Well, she offered me a job again. She really meant it. So I've been thinking it over. The war should be over soon, and I really should earn some more money to return to Germany. And then I noticed that William's tutor is renting a room out in her house. So, you see, the two opportunities presented themselves on the same day."

He leaned back in his chair. Now I had his attention.

"I thought it was very timely. Providential, actually. I'm going to accept Wilma's job offer and move to Bisbee. That way, I could still see William fairly often, and we could keep up with the correspondence lessons. Mrs. Morgan is an excellent tutor; I think she will be able to help you and your aunt carry on with William's language skills. It won't be quite the same, but at least I could continue to see him. At least until I return to Berlin."

His facial expression didn't change. With a level gaze, he finally said, "so you've worked this all out."

"Yes. It's all settled. I'll leave next week when William has his session with Mrs. Morgan. Your aunt could drive us over and then I'll just remain."

"So that's what you want to do." He rubbed his chin.

"Yes. It's all decided," I said, looking down.

"And you've prayed about this?"

I glanced up at him. The nerve of that remark. How pious! How patronizing! I wanted to shout. Instead, I said as coolly as I could, "Please don't use your pulpit voice with me." The truth was that I hadn't yet prayed about this decision. I'd done everything but pray.

"Just out of curiosity, does Wilma know your only job qualifications are playing the piano and spy work?"

My eyes grew wide; I felt as if he had just slapped me. I turned to leave. Then I stopped, hand on the door, and turned my head to look back at him. "I never used to think you and your aunt had any similarities, but lately, I'm seeing quite a family resemblance." I slammed the door behind me.

Back in my room, I tried to read but had trouble concentrating.

After an hour or so I heard Robert come into the house, climb the stairs, and stop at my door. He gave a gentle knock, waited to hear my voice, then opened the door and poked his head in, a trace of apology in his eyes. "I'm sorry. I'm sure you'll make a fine waitress." He closed the door but then opened it again. "Just stay out of the kitchen," he added. And then he shut the door and went to his room.

If the book I was reading wasn't so heavy, I would have thrown it at the door behind him.

Robert must have told his aunt that I was leaving by the time I came downstairs for breakfast. Her face looked like she had eaten a persimmon. She poured my coffee wordlessly.

The four of us ate breakfast just like when I first arrived in Copper Springs. The only difference was William's animation. He threw words out in a steady stream and kept us all distracted from other underlying issues. I had planned to wait until later in the week to tell him that I would be leaving. I dreaded that conversation.

The week reminded me of how time ground to a halt when I first arrived at the Gordon household and tried to keep out of Miss Gordon's way. Robert and I were polite to each other, a guard against unpleasantness. Mostly, we avoided each other.

It wasn't very hard. I stayed in my room until I heard him leave in the morning. He returned to his office right after dinner each evening. And from the sixth of June on, I had one ear glued to my Christmas radio, listening to incoming reports about D-Day.

Thousands of Allied troops had landed on beaches in Normandy, France in a surprise attack so that the march to Germany, to victory, could begin.

But no sooner had that news. .h.i.t than the Germans retaliated by launching the first V-1 rocket at Britain. The 'V' came from the German word 'Vergeltungswaffen,' meaning weapons of reprisal. Weapons of revenge. Up to 100 V-1 rockets fell every hour, around the clock, mostly targeting London, indiscriminately injuring and killing thousands.

Listening to the news made me feel rea.s.sured that moving to Bisbee was a wise decision. As tragic as the reports about the V-1 rockets were, I knew more than most that the n.a.z.is retaliated when they felt threatened. To me, it was another clear indication they were losing the war. Surely, the war would be over soon.

The night before I was planning to leave, I stayed up in my room and packed. It didn't take long; I didn't come with much nor was I leaving with much. I looked around the room to see if I'd forgotten anything. There were a few theology books I had borrowed from the downstairs bookshelves that needed to be returned. Books in arms, I went down to the darkened parlor and straight to the bookshelves, looking for the places on the shelves where they belonged.

"So that's where my Scofield Reference Bible went," a voice said.

I jumped; I hadn't realized Robert was sitting by the fireplace. "Lieber Gott! Robert, I didn't know you were there." I looked down at the books in my arms. "Yes, I'm sorry. I didn't know you had been looking for it."

"All packed up?"

"Yes." I turned back to the bookshelves and slid the books back in their place.

"Probably helps that you never really unpacked to begin with."

I spun around on my heels. That did it. "I always told you I was planning to return to Germany. From the very first day, I have never wavered from that. It's always been my plan to return after the war is over. Always."

"That's true. I can't disagree with that. That's been your plan," he said with sarcasm.

"Then why do you sound as if that's not the right thing to do? Didn't you agree to let me live here with the understanding that I would be returning after the war?"

"Yes. Yes, I did." He jumped to his feet. "But things change, Louisa. Circ.u.mstances change. People change. Life doesn't always work out the way you've planned. And for someone who has been pushing me to accept change from the day you arrived here, you're not even willing to consider it for yourself."

I looked at him for a long moment. Then I went to sit on the davenport. I asked, "Is that why you're so angry with me?"

The question seemed to hang in the air for a while. He turned toward the fireplace, lost in reflection. Finally, he spoke. "I'm not angry with you. I'm angry with myself."

"Whatever for?"

He walked over to the fireplace, placing one hand on the mantel. "Because I didn't learn from my mistake."

"What do you mean?"

"When I was away at the meeting in North Carolina, I thought about this a great deal, Louisa. It suddenly became so clear to me. I realized I had allowed myself to get emotionally involved with the same kind of woman as Ruth." There was cold anger in his voice.

I gasped audibly. "I am not like her," I said, now seething. "I am nothing like her. I can not believe you said that."

He didn't answer me. Nor did he look at me.

"I never made a promise to you like she did. I am not abandoning you or William like she did."

He glanced at me. "You're both ambitious women."

"How so? I've never asked you for anything."

Now he looked straight at me. "You both want something badly enough that you'll leave people who love you for it. She wanted a fine life: fortune and status; you're after more n.o.ble things. You want to ride back on your gleaming white horse and save Germany, single-handedly."

Those words cut me to the quick. I glared at him through a blur of hot tears as a maelstrom of fury welled up within me. "How dare you trivialize how I feel about Germany! You make it sound foolish and silly. You don't have any idea what it is like to lose your country. You sit here in the desert and think you're helping to fight a war by collecting tin cans and eating oleo on your bread. You have no idea what war is like! You have no idea how dark this evil is! Hitler's evil. And yet you say that I am the nave one!"

I tried to calm down before repeating, insistently, "Robert, I am nothing like her."

A long stretch of minutes pa.s.sed. He watched the fireplace while I watched him.

Then the real issue that had been avoiding so carefully spilled forth. Still looking at the fireplace, he said, "Louisa, is there something so wrong about me that you...and Ruth...couldn't love me?"

My heart nearly melted. "Wrong? Something so wrong about you? Oh, Robert, no. Just the opposite. There's something so right about you."

The way he looked at me then, so unguarded, I knew I had to get upstairs fast, or I would never be able to leave tomorrow.

The next morning, I waited until I heard Robert leave for his office before going downstairs. Miss Gordon wouldn't even look at me. She went outside to hang wet laundry on the clothesline as soon as I walked into the kitchen. I still hadn't told William I was moving out. My plan was to have Mrs. Morgan help me tell him this afternoon, at his tutoring session.

I ate a silent, lonely breakfast, gathering my courage to go let Rosita cut my long dark hair into the fashionable bob she was so eager for. I knew how much this meant to her; I tried not to envision myself as a lamb being led to the slaughter.

I went into Rosita's beauty salon holding my Christmas coupon. She knew it was my last day. She led me to her chair, wrapping a big ap.r.o.n around me. "At last, Louisa! We are going to make you into a Hollywood movie star. No more looking like you came from the Old World."

After she finished, I looked in the mirror and had to bite my lip to keep from weeping.

"Bonita! S, amiga?" she asked. Rosita had the biggest heart in town but very possibly could be the worst haircutter in the state of Arizona. One side was longer than the other side. And the bottom edge was cut in a zig-zag.

Oh, well, I thought, trying to console myself. Hair grows back.

Ramon wheeled his chair over and looked aghast at my hair. "Rosita, would you mind going to Ibsen's store and buying some of that #10 hair dye for Mrs. Wondolowski? She has an appointment this morning."

"But Ramon, I am just about done with Louisa's bob. Un momento?"