Secrets of the Red Box (31 page)

Bonnie entered the San Diego USO canteen through the back entrance. The movie she’d seen
had run longer than she’d expected. She tucked her purse into the cubby holes provided for the
volunteers and attached her small USO pin to the collar of her emerald green dress. She looked in
the mirror and fussed with her hair. She’d decided on side reverse rolls that came close together on
the top of her head to form a “V” shape. It made her look a bit older than her eighteen years.

She could hear the music from a local band playing tunes from the Hit Parade, tunes made
famous by Harry James, Benny Goodman, Glenn Miller, Gene Krupa, and the Dorsey brothers. The
local band sounded nothing like the star musicians they tried to emulate, but they provided
danceable music and that was what mattered.

As a junior hostess, Bonnie served doughnuts and coffee to the GIs, played checkers with them,
talked to them, danced with them, and sometimes just sat with them. Military bases were abundant
in San Diego, with paratroopers from Camp Gillespie, Marines at Camp Elliott, more soldiers from
Fort Rosecrans, Navy flyers from the Naval Air Station, then Camp Kearney, Camp Callen, and
Camp Pendleton a few miles to the north. Thousands and thousands of GIs descended on San
Diego to train and wait for their eventual deployment.

The canteen had opened the previous year on the corner of 3
^rd
and A Street. Bonnie liked the
feel of the canteen—bustling, noisy, overflowing with men eager for a little attention. The activities
at the canteen offered her an exciting social life, filling a need in her to be active and stimulated. She
volunteered nearly every night, taking a shift from four thirty to nine in the evening.

Bonnie picked up a tray of doughnuts to bring to the counter. She smiled at another hostess.
“I’m a little late,” Bonnie said without sounding apologetic. “I went to the movies and didn’t get out
as soon as I thought I would.”

A group of GIs poured up to the counter, spotting Bonnie as she came in. Their eyes scanned
her form, and their brows arched with interest. “Gentlemen?” she asked with a pleasant voice. “Can
I interest you in a doughnut?”

“You can interest me in more than a doughnut,” one of the men said with a wink.
“Hey,” his buddy said, shoving him aside, “have some respect.”
Bonnie laughed, used to the men’s flirtations, their sometimes crude asides. “I only serve

“How about a dance?” another man asked, his side cap cocked jauntily over one eye.
“Sure,” she said, “when I get these doughnuts out.”
The soldier leaned over the counter. “Say, couldn’t your friend here handle that?” he asked,

nodding toward the other hostess.
“Go ahead,” said the girl. “Anything for the boys.”
Bonnie caught her sarcasm, but didn’t say anything. She went to the end of the counter and

rounded it to meet the soldier. He snagged Bonnie’s hand and pulled her toward the dance floor.
Bonnie didn’t resist, but when he turned to face her, she gave him a cold stare. “I’m not a piece of
meat, soldier. Remember that.”

The man’s brows lifted. “Sure, sure,” he said, leading her into the dance. “I can see you’re a
respectable girl. You’re pretty, too, but I bet you hear that all the time.”
Bonnie didn’t respond. She wasn’t interested in him, or any of the men like him. Those who
displayed self-confidence, were gregarious and outgoing, weren’t the men she cared so much about.
These men could fend for themselves. It was another type of man who attracted her.
Bonnie scanned the perimeter of the room, searching for the right man to approach, the man
who appeared lonely, wasn’t much to look at, who would be grateful for some attention.
Then she saw him, a seaman. He sat on a crooked folding chair, his elbows resting on his knees,
his expression somewhat blank. His face was lean with an oversized nose, sunken eyes and ears that
stuck out from the sides of his head like a double-handled pot. He was young, she thought, maybe
eighteen. It was probably the first time he’d ever been away from home. He was probably scared,
though he most likely wouldn’t admit it. He looked lost in the busy canteen—alone, maybe
friendless or just shy.
The song ended and Bonnie broke away from the soldier.
“Hey,” he complained.
“One dance to a GI,” Bonnie said with a shrug.
“Yeah, but we didn’t even dance a whole song—”
She left him and headed for the gangly young man dressed in Navy blues. As she approached,
she could see how blonde he was—his eyebrows, even his eyelashes were so light they were nearly
transparent. The big nose was shapeless, as if someone had mounded a blob of clay and stuck it to
the center of his face. When she stood in front of him, he raised his gaze, revealing pale blue eyes.
The boy blushed as Bonnie extended her hand.
“Would you like to dance?” she asked.
The boy laughed nervously and the red in his cheeks deepened. “I don’t know how.”
Bonnie smiled and sat on the empty folding chair beside him. “That’s okay. We don’t have to.
What’s your name?”
The young man glanced around as if he thought she might be talking to someone else. His pastel
eyes flicked toward her face, and then he looked away. “Luther Shold, miss.”
“I’m Bonnie Mackenzie,” she said, leaning forward to meet his eyes. “Where are you from,
Luther?”
He cleared his throat and rubbed his palms across the tops of his thighs. “Iowa.”
Bonnie’s eyes sparkled. “Really? Where about in Iowa?”
“Oh, you wouldn’t know it,” he said. “It’s a dot on the map… a farm outside Albert City.”
Bonnie fingered her earlobe. “I grew up on a farm! We lived in Kansas, planted wheat mostly.”
He nodded, his smile easing into a pleased grin. “Kansas, huh? We’re near neighbors. So, you’re
a farm girl?”
“Well, I’m a city girl now. My folks moved out here about eight years ago, so I’m pretty used to
city life.”
Luther’s thin lips tweaked into a smile, then relaxed again. “I’ve never seen a city as big as this,”
he said. “And I’ve never been around so many people in my whole life.”
“There’s so much more to do in a city,” she said, sweeping her hand in front of her as if offering
him a menu of items. “So many people to meet.”
His smile returned. “I’m used to small time. There was only eight seniors in my graduating
class.”
“That’s all?”
He nodded. “And all three us boys joined up right after.”
She pointed to the sleeve of his tunic. “What’s that insignia for?”
“That’s a communications patch,” he said. “I just finished my training. I guess I’ll be shipping
out pretty soon.”
“You have to be pretty smart to be assigned to communications.” She turned her body so she
faced him. “I’ll bet you’re pretty good at it, too.”
Luther blushed and angled himself a little more toward Bonnie. “Sort of. I try real hard,
anyway.”
A Marine approached Bonnie and stuck out his hand. “Want to dance?” he asked, a broad grin
flashing on his handsome face.
Bonnie glanced at Luther and shook her head. “No, thanks. I’m talking to a friend.”
The Marine snorted. “Come on,” he insisted, reaching for Bonnie’s hand. “You don’t want to
waste your time on this goofy-looking swabbie.”
Bonnie scowled and recoiled from his reach. “I said
no.
”
Luther shot to his feet, pushing his way in between Bonnie and the Marine. “She said no.” His
voice sounded as if he’d suddenly found a wealth of courage.
The Marine tilted his head and stared at Luther, then shoved him. “She probably just feels sorry
for you.” He turned to leave.
Luther took his seat again and Bonnie touched his arm. “Thank you, Luther. That was a nice
thing you did.”
He looked down at the floor. “You can go if you want to, Bonnie,” he said. “I mean, you don’t
have to stay and talk to me.”
She tightened her fingers on his arm. “No, I want to.” She released her hold and clasped her
hands together in her lap. “So, tell me why you picked the Navy.”
Luther cocked his head and drew his eyes from the floor to her. “I like water. There’s a lot of
little creeks and streams where I live. Iwas always fishing or swimming when I wasn’t working the
farm.”
“I love the water too, especially the ocean. There’s something wonderful about the way the sand
feels beneath your toes when the surf washes up on your legs…”
“I like the way a creek ripples across the stones. It’s real soothing. I used to lay in the shade and
listen to the creek and imagine how that little creek met up with a bigger one, and then merged with
a river, and then finally went all the way to the ocean.”
Bonnie smiled at him. “You have a poet’s soul, Luther.”
He blushed again and lowered his gaze.
“What about the boys from your class? Did they join the Navy with you?”
Luther shook his head. “Nah. They both joined the Army. They said they’d rather die in the dirt
than drown in the ocean and get eaten by sharks.”
Bonnie pursed her lips together. “Well, that just shows you how much they know. I read
somewhere that there are more casualties during ground combat than aboard ships.” She was
making that up, but she hoped it made him feel better. Bonnie touched his arm again. “And besides,
you’re not going to die, Luther.”
He gave her a skeptical look. “You don’t know that.”
“I do,” she insisted. “I just feel it. You’ll come home and be just fine.”
He sighed and folded his arms across his narrow chest. “I wish you could tell that to my ma. I
never saw her cry until the day I left.” He turned his face and looked at her with an intensity she
wasn’t expecting. “She lost a baby when I was ten years old and she never cried. Her father died two
years ago and she didn’t cry then…I go off to war and she cried and cried. I felt real bad.”
“I’m sure she misses you.” Bonnie hesitated a moment, then added, “I’ll bet your girl misses you,
too.”
“My girl?” He laughed sardonically and rubbed his palms along his thighs. “I don’t have
one…they sort of have a nickname for me back home.” He looked down at the floor. “They call me
Spud, because they think my nose looks like a potato.” He laughed as if only he got the joke. “I
think it’d be obvious I don’t have a girl.”
Bonnie stood up. “Come on,” she said. “Let’s move around. I’m not supposed to spend too
much time with any one GI.”
Luther came to his feet, a look of amazement on his face. “You want to keep talking?”
Bonnie nodded. “You play checkers?”
“Sure,” he said, following her as she walked around the perimeter of the room.
Bonnie found an empty card table with a checkerboard on top. She sat down and motioned for
him to join her. “Red or black?” she asked.
Luther sat across from her. “Lady’s choice.”
Bonnie picked up the red checkers and began to fill her side of the board. “Do you have
brothers and sisters?”
Luther scooped a pile of black checkers toward him. “Four older sisters. All but one married
farmers. They’re all helping my dad farm. The one sister, she run off with some fertilizer salesman
and lives in Dubuque now.”
“No wonder your mama cried when you left. You’re her only son.”
“You think that’s it?” he asked as if he didn’t believe her.
“My little brother died when I was seven…scarlet fever. Mama was never the same after that. I
don’t think she ever really got over it.”
The conversation lulled for a moment as they began the game. Bonnie could tell he was
watching her. She slowly raised her eyes and smiled. He smiled back and then looked at the board.
“You’re real easy to talk to,” he said, pushing a checker toward her.
“You too.”
“I don’t have a lot of experience with girls,” he admitted. “They sort of scare me. But you
don’t,” he added quickly. “You don’t scare me.”
“Good.”
“You’re real pretty, Bonnie. You sure you wouldn’t rather be with someone else?”
Bonnie’s eyes flew up from the table. “No, I don’t want to be with someone else,” she said,
reaching for his hand. “I want to be with you.”
Luther blinked as if trying to comprehend her words. “You…want to be with…me?”
His hand went clammy beneath hers and she let go. “I said so, didn’t I?” She pointed at the
board. “Your move.”
Luther seemed to straighten his shoulders and sat taller in the chair. He smiled at Bonnie and
put the tip of his finger on the edge of a checker. “Do you come here pretty often?”
“Most evenings,” she said, contemplating her next move. “I like it here.”
Luther pushed a checker forward on the board, then backed it up again. “What time do you get
through tonight?”
Bonnie saw that his face had flushed crimson now. “I’m done at nine. Did you want to do
something?” She hoped she was making it easier for him to ask her out.
He gulped and ran his palms along his thighs. “Yeah, uh, do you want to go to dinner?”
Bonnie picked up a checker, jumped one of his, then scuffed his checker off the board. “Sure.
Meet me on the corner of B Street after nine o’clock.”
She heard him let out a breath and she peered into his clear blue eyes. “I like you, Luther.”
The young man rolled his eyes and slapped the table with exuberance. The checkerboard pitched
from the flimsy table and scattered checkers everywhere, some flipping to the floor. He bolted up
from his chair, apologizing for his behavior, then bent over to pick up the stray pieces and nudged
the corner of the table with his shoulder, sending it askew.
Bonnie started to laugh at the comical sight of the lanky young sailor fumbling with checkers
and a moving table. He straightened and his face suddenly lost its smile. He held the checkers
between his fingers and looked at Bonnie.
“You’re not kidding me now, are you? I mean, you’re not saying you’ll meet me on the corner
and then not show up?”
Bonnie came to her feet and moved closer to him. “Of course not, Luther. I would never do
that.”
He set the checkers down. “I guess I just don’t see why a pretty girl like you would want—”
“Stop,” she said softly. “I can’t help it if other girls don’t see what I see in you.” She moved a
little closer and grazed her hand over his. “Nine o’clock.”
Bonnie melted into the crowd of GIs. She danced and talked and had a group of men following
her wherever she went. She often looked for Luther as he sat apart from the others. Even while she
danced with other men, she found her eyes searching for him. When she caught sight of him, she’d
smile and watch as an eager grin spread across his face.
When it was nearly nine o’clock, Bonnie made her way back to the counter. “How are we doing
on coffee?” she asked Mrs. Wagoner, one of the senior hostesses.
The older woman with a pleasant expression looked at Bonnie. “I just sent Jill back to start some
more.” She shook her head. “I swear, these boys must have hollow legs.”
Bonnie chuckled and noticed the woman still looking at her, the lined countenance now serious.
“You have quite a following, Bonnie,” Mrs. Wagoner said, her tone now matching her
expression. “Why, they practically knock one another over to dance with you.”
“Oh, they’re just being boys,” Bonnie said with a laugh. “They’d dance with anything in a dress.”
The old woman cocked a brow. “You be careful, Bonnie. Those boys are facing a very uncertain
future. There’s no telling what they might…” she paused, “ask of a girl before they ship out.”
“You don’t have to worry about me,” Bonnie replied, allowing her gaze to slide toward Luther.
“I know exactly how to handle them.”
///////
Outside, the cool breeze off the bay moistened the air and gave it a briny scent. Bonnie exited
the building and walked the block to the corner of B Street. Luther was there, standing beneath the
streetlight, his fair complexion a milky white beneath the lamp.
“You came,” he breathed as she neared him.
Bonnie hugged him, then took his hand. “Come on,” she whispered. “I know a place.”
Luther nodded. They rounded the corner of the street and hurried into the night. They walked
two blocks and Bonnie stopped in front of a little café. “The food’s not bad, and it’s plenty cheap,”
she said, still holding his hand.
Luther opened the door for her and the pair slipped inside. The restaurant’s quaint atmosphere
felt homey, with small tables wrapped in checkered tablecloths, windows painted with red café
curtains, and tiny vases of fresh carnations at each table.
Bonnie asked for a table toward the back, and Luther followed her and the waiter. They sat
down as the man presented them with two menus. “House special is fresh sea bass,” he said without
looking at them. He turned and left them alone.
“Do you like fish?” Luther asked. “Ido. I used to catch trout, some perch, and one time I
caught the biggest pike you ever seen. He gave me quite a fight, all two feet of him.” He measured
out the length of the fish between his palms. “They can be real mean.”
“Two feet!” she exclaimed. Bonnie didn’t care much for fish, but she would pretend to. “I like
most fish, so I think I’ll have the sea bass.”
Luther lowered the menu. “Gee, Bonnie, we have a lot in common, don’t we?”
“I guess we do,” she said with a smile. “Let’s see what else there might be.” She glanced up as
the ceiling. “What’s your favorite color?”
“Blue.”
“Mine too!” she said, her eyes blinking in surprise. “What’s your favorite dessert?”
Luther thought for a moment. “I’m pretty partial to peach pie, although I never turn down a
piece of chocolate cake.”
“Chocolate cake with chocolate frosting?”
“Is there any other way to make it?”
Bonnie laughed. “Not in my book, there isn’t. What about school? What was your favorite
subject?”