Miss Dimple Rallies to the Cause (2 page)

BOOK: Miss Dimple Rallies to the Cause
8.2Mb size Format: txt, pdf, ePub

“I expect he’s shy,” Miss Dimple said, “and probably a bit overwhelmed. I hear he’s a gifted musician.”

“We’re lucky to have him, then,” Virginia said as she put a handful of books back on the shelves. “I don’t think that woman they had before could carry a tune in a bucket.

“Have you met the new coach yet?” she asked Charlie. “The one who took Frank Carver’s place when he left for the army. I hear he and his wife are living with your aunt and uncle.”

“Not
with them
exactly,” Charlie explained. “They’re renting that little garage apartment behind them. Aunt Lou said his wife told her he caught malaria on some island or other and was wounded in the war. That’s why he walks with a limp, but he doesn’t like to talk about it. Nobody’s used that apartment in years, but there aren’t many places available here.”

“Oh, it’s the cutest place!” Delia chimed in. “Uncle Ed had it cleaned and painted and Aunt Lou has the kitchen fixed up nice. They’re supposed to move in sometime this week.”

“We’ll have to do something to welcome them. A party, don’t you think?” Virginia suggested.

Charlie nodded. “Aunt Lou’s already a jump ahead of you,” she said. “I think she plans some kind of shindig in October.”

“Maybe his wife would enjoy being a part of the pageant,” Virginia suggested. “Why don’t you mention it to her, Delia? It would be a good way to introduce her to the community. After all, there’s no reason one can’t contribute to the war effort and have fun as well.”

Delia agreed wholeheartedly. After all, didn’t everybody say she should be in the movies when she had the lead in her class play? Maybe there would be a good part for her in the pageant. It wouldn’t hurt to suggest it to the director.

But when Emmaline Brumlow arrived a few minutes later, she had other things on her mind.

One didn’t have to know Emmaline well to know the woman bore no nonsense. She was almost as tall as Delia’s sister, Charlie, who at five feet ten towered over her friend and fellow teacher, Annie Gardner. Bright circles of rouge made Emmaline look as if she had a fever, and since the war she’d taken to wearing tailored suits that had been cut down from her late husband’s extensive wardrobe. Today’s was a lightweight tan wool with the ever-present shoulder pads and a hint of a peplum. Delia thought her green felt hat looked a lot like a sand bucket turned upside down on her head with a bunch of feathers sticking out and, biting back a smile, avoided looking at her sister. Charlie had been keen on Emmaline’s son, Hugh, before he enlisted in the navy the year before. Having finished the medical part of his training to become a navy corpsman, Hugh had since completed his instruction at Pendleton marine base in California and was now serving somewhere in the Pacific. Although the two still corresponded, her sister claimed they were just good friends. Privately, Delia hoped Charlie wouldn’t burn that bridge behind her. Not only was Hugh Brumlow good-looking, but his family owned the biggest dry-goods store in town, where before the war you could buy clothing almost as stylish as anything you’d find in Atlanta. If the two of them married, she might even get a family discount there. Delia had mentioned this once to her sister, who fell into an uncontrollable fit of laughter at the notion.

Now Emmaline set her bulging briefcase aside and instructed Charlie to position the club’s lectern in front of the fireplace. “We’ll begin as soon as everyone arrives,” she announced, glancing at her watch, and Miss Dimple took that opportunity to discreetly leave. Glancing back at Virginia, she felt a pang of pity, but it was of brief duration. She exchanged pleasantries with the Weaver fellow, Phoebe Chadwick’s new boarder, as he passed her along the walkway, and paused to speak to Annie, who hurried along behind him.

“Please tell me I’m not late!” Annie implored, stopping to catch her breath. “Emmaline will have a conniption fit, but I just couldn’t go off and leave Miss Phoebe in such a state.”

Miss Dimple frowned. The hostess of their rooming house had seemed fine when she left there an hour before. “Why, what’s the matter? Is she ill?”

“It’s Harrison,” Annie explained. “You know, her nephew—or great nephew, I guess. Her niece’s son—the one she talks about all the time…”

Miss Dimple nodded. Phoebe Chadwick doted on the boy to the point where people were beginning to roll their eyes at the mention of his name. “What’s wrong with Harrison?”

“He’s been drafted into the army.” Annie shrugged. “Phoebe must’ve known it would happen sooner or later, but she just went to pieces when her niece telephoned with the news. I thought I was going to have to call Doc Morrison, but she calmed down a little when I got her to drink some hot tea and elevate her feet. I didn’t know what else to do, and Odessa had already left for town.”

Miss Dimple patted the young woman’s shoulder. “You did just fine. Odessa should be along shortly, and I’ll be on my way as soon as I see if Mr. Cooper has my order in. I’d like to make my Victory Muffins tonight, but I’m almost out of soy flour and a little low on molasses as well.”

Leaving Annie to face the disapproval of Emmaline Brumlow, Dimple Kilpatrick opened her umbrella to ward off the sun and continued on her way. The umbrella was large enough for three and had once been purple, in keeping with most of her wardrobe, and, in addition to shielding her from the elements, was used to spear and dispose of unsightly litter along the way.

In time, she hoped, Phoebe Chadwick would come to terms with her nephew’s military duty, as had so many others. Several young men she had taught and loved as children had lost their lives in defense of freedom, and others were in danger of doing the same. Newsreels, radio, and newspapers brought the fighting close to hand, and learning of death and defeat was constant and unavoidable. It gnawed away at her heart, but Dimple Kilpatrick had not one doubt that her country would be victorious.

*   *   *


Well …
perhaps
now
we can get started,” Emmaline Brumlow announced as Reynolds Murphy quietly took his seat and Annie slid into a place next to Charlie. Charlie Carr sensed her friend tensing beside her. How in the world, she wondered, could Emmaline remain calm and collected in a wool suit when it had to be close to ninety degrees in the room? What a witch the woman could be! And as if she could read her thoughts, Annie Gardner whispered aside to her, “Eye of newt and toe of frog…”

Seated at her desk in the background, Virginia Balliew longed to become invisible, but because she was heading up the War Bond Rally and was a member in good standing of the Elderberry Woman’s Club, Emmaline expected her to take part in the meeting. Her first announcement, however, came as a shocking revelation.

“Most of you are aware that Virginia Balliew, our capable librarian, has agreed to be in charge of the rally…” She paused for modest applause. “Because of her many duties here at the library, Virginia has enlisted the help of my nephew, Buddy Oglesby, to assist her in this cause.” (Only two people applauded this time, she noticed: Delia and the new chorus director, who didn’t know any better.)

“Buddy has several ideas for promoting our rally,” Emmaline continued, “and I expect him to arrive shortly to share them with you.”

Virginia bit her lip until it hurt.
Strange, but she didn’t remember asking Buddy Oglesby’s help with the rally.
She wanted to leap to her feet and make that known to all, but her small salary as librarian was paid by the local Woman’s Club, and Emmaline Brumlow reigned as the current president of that group. The extra income, although slight, supplemented the meager pension she received as the widow of a Methodist minister.

Charlie kept an eye on her sleeping nephew as the meeting progressed and hoped it wouldn’t go on too long. Naturally, she wanted to be a part of helping to ensure that the rally was a success, and had convinced her sister to attend, hoping she might contribute as well. With her young husband serving in Italy and most of her friends away at school, Delia seemed unsure of her place in an unsettled world. Maybe, Charlie thought, if she just helped a little more with the housework … and then she felt ashamed of herself. She knew the fear that consumed her sister whenever she saw the boy on the black bicycle who delivered telegrams, some of which contained tragic news from the War Department. Her mother had received such a telegram about their brother, Fain, the year before, and the memory of that day was still so painful she flinched to think of it.
Deeply regret to inform you
 … it began.

Her brother was missing in action with General Patton’s army somewhere in Algeria, a blue area on the map of North Africa, rich in petroleum and iron, that her third graders had studied in geography. He was injured over there, possibly dead, and the army didn’t know where he was. It might as well have been a million miles away, and they couldn’t do one thing to help him. It had been almost unbearable to see her mother suffer, but Josephine Carr was a strong woman. She cried her share of tears, and then threw herself into the war effort with even more purpose with her work at the munitions plant in Milledgeville.

The letter arrived in January.

C
HAPTER
T
WO

The earth was black with burning and smoke hung like a dark veil in the air. The new ground would be ready to plant in the spring. Soybeans the first year, then cotton, robust and green in the rich bottomland. And then the waters came …

*   *   *

“… most people seem to enjoy a womanless wedding, and it should be easy and inexpensive to put on.”

Charlie was jolted to the present to see that Annie had the floor and everyone’s attention as well. Reynolds Murphy squirmed in his seat.

“I’ve canvased several merchants,” Annie continued, “and most of them have agreed to take part—especially for the cause.” Now she directed her gaze at Reynolds, who gazed longingly out the window while mopping his brow. “I think Mr. Murphy would make an absolutely beautiful bridesmaid, don’t you?”

Of course everyone laughed, including Reynolds, when Virginia offered a hand-me-down gown once belonging to her late cousin Ethel.

The poor man blushed. “I’m afraid I’d be much too large for that,” he said.

“Oh, but you didn’t know Ethel,” Virginia countered.

And so it was decided that Reynolds would be in charge of getting the wedding group together. Charlie suggested they ask the various clubs in the area to contribute ideas for the pageant and schedule a joint meeting at the high school auditorium the following week. Emmaline had brought along a book of short, humorous skits they might choose from that she turned over to Delia, and Buddy Oglesby finally arrived, looking flushed and sheepish, with several designs for posters and banners that Charlie found surprisingly clever.

Many of the others agreed, and Buddy blushed as he received their praise over Lou’s peach ice cream after the meeting. “I thought I’d have to get down on my knees and beg Amos Schuler for the extra cream,” Lou told them, and most nodded in understanding. Just about everyone was familiar with the milkman’s curdled disposition, but Charlie was surprised he would deliver to her aunt at all after her outrageous stunt the year before.
*

“Aren’t you going to stay for ice cream, Reynolds?” Lou asked as he prepared to leave.

Reynolds shook his head and smiled. “Looks tempting, Lou, but I overindulged as a child and haven’t been able to enjoy ice cream since.”

“I can’t say that I’m sorry,” Annie told him. “That just means there’s more for me!”

*   *   *

“I think Buddy’s been hiding his light under a bushel,” Charlie told Annie as the two walked home together after the meeting. Delia had stopped by their aunt Lou’s with the baby to visit the new coach and his wife, who had recently established themselves in the garage apartment.

Buddy Oglesby had revealed plans for a large banner showing a clock with hands pointing to the scheduled time of the rally. In bold letters it read:
Time to unite and win the fight!
Charlie had agreed to make several posters using Buddy’s suggested slogan:
Help boost the tally! Come to the rally!

“We should’ve started on this sooner,” Annie said as they waited to cross the street. “We have less than three weeks to get this thing together.”

The parade was scheduled to begin at four in the afternoon on the first Saturday in October, to be followed by the War Bond Rally on the courthouse lawn and a pageant that same night, with proceeds going to the war effort.

“Thank goodness this has given Delia something to look forward to!” Charlie said. “She hasn’t heard from Ned in a while and she lives for the mail to come.”

“Don’t we all?” Annie’s voice was somber. “Heard anything from Will?”

“Just a short letter yesterday. How about Frazier?”

“Still helping train recruits at Fort Benning, but he’s dying to get into the fight.” Annie shook her head. “Crazy, isn’t it? Frankly, I wish they’d keep him there for the duration of the war, but I hate to see him so unhappy.”

“At least you get to
see
him once in a while,” Charlie said. The two had gone to Brenau College with a girl from Columbus, Georgia, where the fort was located, and Annie had arranged to stay with her friend a couple of weekends during the summer in order to spend time with her young lieutenant. She had met Frazier Duncan the year before when the people of Elderberry entertained the recruits on his troop train with an early Thanksgiving dinner, and since that time, Annie Gardner hadn’t had eyes for anyone else.

“I have enough on my mind with Joel up there zooming around the ‘wild blue yonder,’” Annie added, speaking of her brother. “Do you realize it won’t be long before he and Will move on to advanced flight training at Craig Field? And then they’ll be off to who knows where!”

“That
is
why they signed up,” Charlie reminded her. “Can you imagine them anywhere else?” Of course she was concerned for the two men as well, but they were doing what made them happy, and all those in combat risked their lives every day, no matter where they fought.

Other books

Private Lessons by Donna Hill
American Babe by Babe Walker
Living Dead Girl by Elizabeth Scott
Fearless by O'Guinn, Chris