Bridge to Haven (4 page)

Mommy closed the hymnal, set it aside, and stood. “All right, honey. Your turn to practice.” Abra hopped off the pew and flew up the steps to the piano bench. Mommy half lifted her and then let go, stepping aside to rest her hand heavily on the piano, the other hand against her chest. She panted a moment, then smiled encouragement
and set a beginners book on the stand. “Play your scales first and then ‘Silent Night.’ Can you do that?”

Usually Mommy stood right next to her. Except when she didn’t feel good.

Abra loved to play the piano. It was her favorite thing to do. She played scales and chords, though it was hard to reach all the notes at once. She practiced “Silent Night,” “O Little Town of Bethlehem,” and “Away in a Manger.” Every time she finished one, Mommy said she was doing so well and Abra felt warm inside.

Daddy came into the sanctuary. “I think it’s time to go home.” He put an arm around Mommy and drew her to her feet. Disappointed, Abra closed the lid on the piano and followed them out to the car. Mommy apologized for being so tired, and Daddy said she’d be fine, just fine, with a few hours’ rest.

Mommy protested when Daddy carried her into the house. He sat with her in their bedroom for a few minutes. Then he came out to the living room. “Play quietly, Abra, and let Marianne sleep awhile.” As soon as Daddy went back out to the car, Abra went into Mommy and Daddy’s bedroom and climbed up on the bed.

“That’s my girl,” Mommy said and snuggled her close.

“Are you sick again?”

“Shhh. I’m not sick. Just tired is all.” She fell asleep, and Abra stayed with her until she heard the car out front. She slipped off the bed and ran into the living room to peer out the front window. Daddy was untying a Christmas tree from the top of the old gray Plymouth.

Squealing with excitement, Abra threw open the front door and ran down the steps. Hopping up and down, she clapped her hands. “It’s so big.”

Joshua came in the back door, his cheeks flushed from the cold, but eyes bright. Christmas tree sales had gone well. If the troop raised enough money this year, everyone could go to Camp Dimond-O
near Yosemite. If not, Joshua had already talked to the Weirs and McKennas, neighbors down the street, about hiring him to mow their lawns. “They agreed to pay me fifty cents a week. Times two, that’s four dollars a month!” It sounded like a lot of money. “I’ll have enough saved to pay for camp myself.”

After dinner, Mommy insisted on doing the dishes and told Daddy to go ahead and open the box of ornaments and get started on the tree. Daddy untangled and strung the lights on the tree. He turned them on before he started unwrapping ornaments and handing them over one by one for Joshua and Abra to hang. “You take care of the top branches, Son, and leave the bottom half to Abra.”

Something crashed in the kitchen. Startled, Abra dropped a glass ornament as Daddy surged to his feet and bolted for the kitchen. “Marianne? Are you all right?”

Shaking, Abra stooped to pick up the pieces of the ornament she’d broken, but Joshua moved her aside. “Careful. Let me do it. You might cut yourself.” When she burst into tears, he pulled her close. “It’s okay. Don’t cry.”

Abra clung to him, her heart thumping fast and hard as she listened to Mommy and Daddy arguing. They were trying to talk quietly, but Abra could still hear them. She heard sweeping and something being dumped in the trash under the sink. The door swung open and Mommy appeared, her smile dying. “What’s the matter?”

“She broke an ornament.”

Daddy picked Abra up. “Did you cut yourself?” She shook her head. Daddy patted her bottom. “Then there’s no reason to be upset.” He gave her a quick hug and set her on her feet again. “You two finish decorating the tree while I get a fire going.”

Mommy turned on the radio and found a music program. Settling into her easy chair, she pulled some knitting from her basket. Abra climbed into the chair with her. Mommy kissed the top of her head. “Don’t you want to put some more ornaments on the tree?”

“I want to sit with you.”

Daddy glanced over his shoulder as he arranged kindling. His expression was grim.

Sunday was cold, but the rains had stopped. Couples gathered inside the fellowship hall with their children, herding them off to Sunday school classes before going over to the sanctuary for “big church.” Abra spotted Penny Matthews and ran ahead of Mommy. When Abra reached her, they held hands and went off to their class.

After Sunday school, Mrs. Matthews came and got Penny. Mommy helped Miss Mitzi wash and dry cookie plates. Daddy talked with the last stragglers. After everyone left, the family went into the sanctuary. Mommy straightened up the hymnals, gathered discarded bulletins. Daddy put away the shiny brass candlesticks and offering plates. Abra sat on the piano bench, swinging her legs and playing chords.

The church door banged open, and a man ran in. Mommy straightened, a hand pressed against her chest. “Clyde Eisenhower, what on earth? You scared me half to death.”

The man looked flushed and upset. “The Japanese bombed one of our Naval bases in Hawaii!”

As soon as they got home, Daddy turned on the radio. He took off his suit jacket and hung it on the back of a kitchen chair rather than put it away in the bedroom closet the way he usually did.
“. . . the Japanese have attacked Pearl Harbor, Hawaii, by air, President Roosevelt has just announced. The attack also was made on all Naval and military activities on the principal island of Oahu. . . .”
The voice on the radio sounded upset.

Mommy sank onto a kitchen chair. Daddy closed his eyes and bowed his head. “I knew it was coming.”

Mommy helped Abra onto her lap and sat silent, listening to the
voice that just kept talking and talking about bombings and sinking ships and men burning to death. Mommy started to cry, and that made Abra cry. Mommy held her closer and rocked her in her arms. “It’s all right, honey. It’s all right.”

But Abra knew it wasn’t.

Miss Mitzi opened the door with a flourish. “Well, if it isn’t my favorite little girl!” She whipped her shawl over her shoulder and held her arms wide. Giggling, Abra hugged her. “How long do I get to keep you this time?”

“As long as you like,” Mommy said, following them into the living room.

Abra liked spending time with Miss Mitzi. She had knickknacks all over the living room and didn’t mind if Abra picked them up and looked at them. Sometimes, she made coffee and even filled a teacup for Abra, letting her pour in cream and as much sugar as she wanted.

Mitzi looked concerned. “You look awfully tired, Marianne.”

“I’m going to go home and take a nice long nap.”

“You do that, dear.” Mitzi kissed her cheek. “Don’t push yourself so hard.”

Mommy leaned down and gave Abra a hug. She kissed her on each cheek and ran her hand over her head as she straightened. “Be good for Mitzi, honey.”

Mitzi lifted her chin. “Go hunting,” she told Abra. Mitzi escorted Mommy to the front door, where they talked for a few minutes while Abra wandered the living room, searching for her favorite figurine—a shiny porcelain swan with an ugly duckling by its side. She found it on a corner table under a feather boa.

Mitzi came back into the living room. “Found it so soon.” She set it on the mantel. “I’ll have to find a better place to hide it next time.” Rubbing her hands together, she wove her fingers and cracked her
knuckles. “How about a little honky-tonk?” She plunked down at the old upright piano and banged out a happy tune. “After you learn how to play Bach and Beethoven and Chopin and Mozart, I’ll teach you how to play the fun stuff.” Her hands flashed up and down. She stood, nudging the stool aside, and kept playing, putting one foot out and then the other, in a clumsy hop-kick, hop-kick. Abra laughed and imitated her.

Mitzi straightened. “That was just a little teaser.” She swung the end of the shawl around her neck again and lifted her chin, her face grim. “Now, we must be serious.” She stepped aside and waved her hand airily for Abra to sit on the stool. Giggling, Abra took her position as Mitzi put some sheet music on the stand. “A little simplified Beethoven is the order of the day.”

Abra played until the mantel clock struck four. Mitzi glanced at her watch. “Why don’t you play dress up for a while? I’m going to make a call.”

Abra slid from the stool. “Can I look at your jewelry?”

“Sure you can, honey.” Mitzi waved toward the bedroom. “Look in the closet; check through the drawers, too. Try on whatever you like.”

Abra found a treasure trove of sparkly baubles and beads. She put on a pair of rhinestone earrings, and a looped necklace of red glass beads. She added one of pearls and another necklace with jet-black beads. She liked the weight of flash and glory around her neck. Spying Mitzi’s rouge pot, she rubbed a bit on each cheek, then used Mitzi’s eyebrow pencil. She chose the darkest red lipstick from Mitzi’s horde of small tubes. Opening her mouth wide, she imitated one of the women she’d seen in the church ladies’ room and smeared on the lipstick. She dug through more makeup and powdered her cheeks, coughing as a sweet-scented cloud engulfed her.

“Are you all right in there?” Mitzi called from the other room.

Waving her hands around her face, Abra said she was fine and
dandy, and headed for Mitzi’s closet. She put on a wide-brimmed hat with a big red bow and found a black shawl with embroidered flowers and a long fringe. Mitzi sure had a lot of shoes. Abra sat and untied her oxfords, then slipped her feet into a pair of red high heels.

“Oh, my!” Mitzi hurried over and grabbed her hand. “Pastor Zeke is coming to pick you up. I’ve got to get you cleaned up before he gets here.” She laughed as she whipped off the big hat and sent it sailing into the closet. She unwound the shawl. “An admirer gave me this when I was singing in a cabaret in Paris a hundred and fifty years ago.”

“What’s a cabaret?”

“Oh, forget I mentioned it.” Mitzi flung the shawl on the pink chenille bedspread. “And these old necklaces! Good grief. How many do you have on? I’m surprised you’re still standing under all this weight. Come on, now. Into the bathroom.” Mitzi smeared on cold cream and wiped it away again. She giggled. “Don’t you look like a little clown with those black brows and red lips.” She giggled again, scrubbing Abra’s cheeks until they tingled.

The doorbell rang.

“Well, that’s the best we can do.” She tossed the washcloth aside, straightened Abra’s dress, fingered her hair here and there, and patted her cheek. “You look just dandy, sweetie pie.” She took her hand and went back into the living room. “Wait right here.” She went to the door and opened it quietly. “Come on in, Pastor Zeke.”

Daddy took one look at Abra and his brows shot up. His mouth twitched as he gave a sideways look at Mitzi. “Hmmmm.”

Mitzi put her hands behind her back and smiled, all innocence. “Put the blame on my account, Zeke.” She grinned. “I told her to have at anything she wanted in my room while I called Marianne. I forgot all the temptations. Marianne sounded so tired, I said I’d call you. I didn’t think you’d be here until after five.”

Daddy held out his hand. “Time to go, Abra.”

Mommy was asleep on the couch. She roused, but Daddy told her
to rest; he’d fix dinner. He told Abra to play quietly. Joshua came in the back door and talked with Daddy. The telephone rang. For the first time Abra could remember, Daddy ignored it.

Mommy seemed better when they all sat down to dinner. Daddy prayed the blessing. They all talked about their day. Joshua cleared and washed the dishes. Abra tried to help, but he shooed her away. “It’ll be faster if I do it myself.”

Mommy went to bed early. As soon as Daddy tucked Abra in, he followed. Abra lay awake, listening to the low sound of their voices. It was a long time before she went to sleep.