When James glanced up from the newspaper he was reading, his eyes widened, seeing Jonathon approaching. He tossed the paper aside and scrambled out of the Duesenberg, reaching the rear door just as Jonathon got there.
"Sir!" he said, standing at attention after he'd opened it.
"I'll be eating lunch in town today," Jonathon said, climbing into the back seat.
"Aye, sir!"
On the drive into town, Jonathon's heart beat with excitement.
Helen.
In just a few minutes, he'd be seeing her for the first time in a very long time. She'd probably be surprised when she saw him. Would she be happy, excited? What would she say?
"Where will ya be wantin' to eat, sir?" James said from the front seat, interrupting his thoughts. At that moment, he realized he didn't know where Helen lived.
"Uh." He stalled wondering what he should do. "I guess the Golden Skillet." He remembered they had a phone booth, not that he'd ever needed to use it. If it didn't include a phone book, he could call the operator to get Helen's address.
James parked the car in front of the restaurant and then got out to open the door for Jonathon. As Jonathon stood on the sidewalk, he made a decision. "You don't need to wait for me. Go home and I'll call you when I need to be picked up."
"Are ya certain, sir?" James said, suddenly appearing worried. "I can wait for ya."
"Yes, I'm certain!" Jonathon snapped. He didn't want James hanging around. He didn't want anyone to know he was going to see Helen.
"Understood, I'll be waitin' for yer call," James agreed quickly, and gave a quick half salute before Jonathon turned away.
The diner was half full, perhaps because it wasn't noon yet. Jonathon peered inside the lone phone booth, and was glad to see a phone book hanging by a chain.
"Would you like a booth or a table?"
A stocky young fellow with curly red hair Jonathon recognized from high school was waiting with a menu in his hands.
"I'll take the booth in the back, but I need to make a phone call first," Jonathon said. "I'll just have coffee."
"Coming right up!"
Inside the phone booth, Jonathon sat on the small bench seat and slid the folding door closed. He opened the phone book to the white pages and quickly flipped to the M's. Sliding his finger down the column, he located the entry for Mr. and Mrs. Charles C. Moore, and smiled. 272 Elm Street. He knew where that was.
Taking his fountain pen out of his breast pocket, he unscrewed the cap. He didn't think he'd forget the address, but he wasn't about to take any chances. In the small pad of paper he used to take notes when making his rounds at the mine, he wrote down the address.
Seated at the booth, he held his steaming cup of coffee, while he looked out the window at the cars driving past. What was he going to say when he saw her? He couldn't just blurt out a request for a date. He'd have to lead into it slowly, gauging her reaction. After all, it had been a while since he'd been able to spend any real time with her. Her feelings for him might have cooled by now.
What if she's not interested at all? He shook his head with a smile, dismissing the idea almost at once. How could that be possible? At twenty-one, he was the richest and most important bachelor in town.
Back when he'd been seeing her, Helen had been falling in love with him, he was certain of it. If she'd been that interested in him back then, surely she wouldn't reject him now. If he had to woo her again, he'd do it. It might even be fun, taking her out, romancing her, watching her fall in love with him all over again. And unlike last time, there wouldn't be anything to stop him.
No longer able to contain his excitement, he paid his tab at the cash register and stepped outside. The Moore's home was only seven blocks from downtown, and while he walked, he had a spring in his step. It was bitterly cold, but the sun shone bright, reflecting off the snow that had fallen the day before. With the prospect of Helen being in his life, the world around him seemed more colorful, and he felt lighter, like the weight of the world had been lifted off him.
Turning down Elm Street, he examined the house numbers until he reached the Moore's. 272 was a two-story stately Victorian befitting the owner of the single bank in town. Climbing the wood steps to the large wraparound porch, butterflies filled Jonathon's stomach, and he couldn't help grinning. The knowledge that he was about to see Helen had turned him into a nervous school boy.
He rang the door bell.
"I'll get it!" His heart leapt, hearing Helen's voice, and then door flew open. Helen's blue eyes met his, widening with surprise when she saw him. "Johnny!"
His heart hammered in his chest as he looked at her. She hadn't changed a bit from the last time he'd seen her, but somehow she seemed more stunning than ever.
"What are you doing here?"
Stupidly, he realized he was staring at her. "I - I-"
"Mr. Blackwell!" A small, wiry woman with graying brown hair appeared at Helen's side. Helen's aunt bore little resemblance to Helen, except her eyes were the same shade of blue. "Goodness me!" she exclaimed, and then gave Helen a stern look. "Where are your manners, child? Don't force the poor man to stand outside in the cold. Invite him in!"
"Yes, please come in," Helen said, stepping back and opening the door wider.
"You must be half frozen to death!" her aunt said.
"It's not that bad outside," he said with a reassuring smile.
"You remember my Aunt Irene," Helen said as she closed the door.
Jonathon realized his fedora was still on his head, and he snatched it off. "It's nice to see you again, Mrs. Moore." He held his free hand out, and her eyelashes fluttered wildly when she took it.
"It's such an honor to have you visiting our home, Mr. Blackwell," she gushed. "But I'm afraid my husband isn't here. He's gone to Chicago for a banker's meeting."
"Uh, well, as a matter of fact, I came to see Helen."
"Oh." She seemed at a loss for what to say next, and looked to Helen who appeared equally astonished.
"I'm sorry for dropping in like this," he said, when neither of them spoke. "I hope I'm not disturbing your plans."
"Not at all," Mrs. Moore said quickly. "Let me take your coat and hat. Helen, why don't you show Mr. Blackwell to the parlor? It's the warmest room in the house, isn't it, Helen?"
"Yes, it's nice in there today with the sun shining," Helen said.
Jonathon couldn't stop smiling as he followed her a short way down the hall watching her wavy blonde hair bounce as she walked. He didn't care where she took him as long as he was with her.
The Moore's parlor was crammed with overstuffed furniture covered in flowered chintz fabric. Mrs. Moore had obviously had free reign in the decorating, Jonathon thought, looking at the matching flowered curtains. It was entirely too many flowers for such a small room.
"Won't you have a seat?" Helen said motioning to the couch in front of the picture window.
He had to move several pillows out of the way before he sat. To his disappointment, Helen chose a chair on the other side of an ornately carved coffee table instead of sitting with him. He watched her smooth her skirt. Had her hands always been so pale and delicate?
He leaned forward. "So, how have you-" Mrs. Moore appeared in the door way and he stopped.
"I'll be right back with some coffee to warm you up!" she said brightly.
"Thank you," he said.
"And there's some apple cake left over from last night's dinner. I'll bring that out too."
"That would be nice."
"I'll help you," Helen said, standing.
"You will not!" Mrs. Moore said, her expression hardening. "Mr. Blackwell is our guest! We can't very well leave him alone."
"Yes, ma'am," Helen said with a sigh, taking her seat again.
It was the second time she'd spoken harshly to Helen, and Jonathon didn't like it. Did she boss Helen around like that all the time? And then he remembered how Mr. Moore had made Helen pay him back room and board out of her paychecks. The sooner he could get her out of their house, the better.
While Mrs. Moore's footsteps faded away, Helen smiled, but her eyes were sad. "My aunt never had children so... it's hard for her having me here."
"I understand," he said even though he didn't agree. There was no excuse for the way her aunt and uncle treated her. "How have you been?" he said, wanting to take her mind off her aunt.
"I've been good. It's been a while since I've seen you at the bank."
"I've been busy."
"I heard your mom passed away. I'm sorry, Johnny. I know how much you loved her."
"Thanks." He dropped his head as the grief of loss washed over him, but at the same time, her words were comforting. She understood his feelings so well.
"How is Billy doing?"
"He's alright," he said, managing a smile. "He's a good kid."
"Tell him hello for me?"
"I will."
Mrs. Moore came into the room with a large tray and Helen moved a decorative bowl filled with fake flowers off the coffee table so she could set it down. She fussed over him, taking much longer than was necessary making sure she'd given him the right amount of cream for his coffee and slicing the exact size piece of cake he wanted. Helen was silent as she poured a cup of coffee for herself.
After the flurry of activity, when Mrs. Moore left it suddenly seemed much quieter. In the silence, Helen had her eyes on her coffee while she stirred it, and it occurred to Jonathon that she might be feeling shy.
"How's your family?" he asked, wanting to ease her discomfort.
"They're doing much better!" she said, her face lighting up. "My dad got a job at a furniture factory. He's always had a talent for working with wood. He made all our furniture when I was growing up, and I swear you could never tell it didn't come from a store. My two youngest sisters moved back with them."
"That's good to hear!"
"Yeah," she said with a happy smile.
"You have another sister don't you? Will she be moving back with your folks?"
"No, June met a boy in the town where she was living. They're going to get married."
She dropped her eyes back to her coffee and stirred it again while she smiled. Jonathon could feel his face heating up. This is it. Now was the time to broach the subject. But how to start?
"I wish I'd been able to keep bringing the deposits to the bank, but - after - after my dad..."
"It's alright, Johnny," she said, speaking up when he couldn't finish. "I knew you'd be busy when you had to run the mine all by yourself. I can tell you're doing a good job. Each week there's more money being deposited than the week before."
"Well, after congress passed the Lend-Lease policy, business has been booming. We're shipping so much over to the Brits and others."
"Isn't it awful what's going on over there?" Helen asked, suddenly more somber. "I've been listening to the broadcasts on the radio. All that bombing. Can you imagine living through that every night?"
Jonathon was dismayed by the turn in the conversation. Why had been so stupid to bring up Lend-Lease? He should be talking about why he was there, not about the war in Europe.
"I wish the war would end," she continued. "Why can't people get along?"
"Helen," he said, determined to get back on track. "As I was saying, even though I wasn't able to come to the bank anymore, I didn't stop thinking about you."
She blinked. "You didn't?"
"No, I thought about you all the time. I wish I'd been able to convince my mother about you, but-"
"Johnny-"
"Now that I'm on my own, I can make my own decisions," he said, stopping her. He didn't want to get sidetracked again. "My feelings for you haven't changed."
The doorbell rang and Helen startled, nearly coming out of her chair.
"I'll get it!" Mrs. Moore called out from another part of the house.
"Maybe, maybe you don't feel the same way about me that you used to," Jonathon said, seeing the worry in her eyes. "It's been long time after all."
"Johnny, I-"
"Please, Helen," he said loudly. "Let me finish. This isn't easy for me. What I'm trying to ask is if you'd consider-"
"Hello, Mrs. Moore." Hearing a deep male voice, Jonathon stopped in mid-sentence. "Is Helen here?"
"Uh," Mrs. Moore said, sounding like she was stalling.
"She said she'd be home if I was able to get off work early, and my dad didn't need me after all."
"I'm sorry, Johnny," Helen said quietly, her eyes full of remorse. "I was trying to explain."
"Yes, she's in the parlor," Mrs. Moore said with a resigned sigh.
Jonathon stood. He had to get out of there. Then Walt Dwyer appeared in the doorway.
"Johnny!" he said, stopping in mid-stride, clearly taken aback.
Of course it was Walt, Jonathon thought bitterly. How could he have been so dumb not to consider Walt might be seeing her?
"Walt," Helen said, going to him with a too bright smile. "Johnny was in the neighborhood and stopped by to say 'hi'. It's been so nice to have a chance to catch up with him and talk about old times."
Walt frowned at her with a confused expression, but then his face smoothed. "That does sound nice."
He put his arm around her waist, pulling her closer, and Jonathon felt like he'd just been kicked in the gut.
"How've ya been, Johnny?" Walt said with an easy smile.
"Good," Jonathon said with his stomach twisting. "And you?" he forced out.
"Not bad. My condolences to you and Billy about your mother."
"Thanks. I should be heading out," he said, stepping around the coffee table.
"Are you sure?" Helen asked, but the relief in her eyes was unmistakable.
"I have errands to run before I go home," Jonathon said, striding out of the room without looking at either one of them.
"I'll get your coat and hat for you," Helen said, following behind him. "I'll be right back, Walt."
When she handed him his coat, he shrugged it on, avoiding her eyes. He didn't want to see the pity in them.
"I'm real sorry, Johnny," she said in whisper when he took his fedora from her.
"Yeah," he said, and opened the front door himself. Heading down the stairs, he shoved his hands in the pockets of his coat and stalked to the sidewalk, rage boiling through him.
Why did this keep happening to him? Just when he thought he was free to see Helen, some road block would be thrown up to stop him. It was like fate was continuously stepping in to snatch her away from him, and it wasn't fair. She was the only girl for him, the only one he wanted, but it was like he wasn't allowed to have her.
Fueled by anger, he walked through neighborhood after neighborhood, trudging down one street after another until his feet hurt and his body was too frozen for him to continue. Completely miserable, he headed back downtown, hoping there'd be at least one business still open where he could telephone James.
When he'd almost reached Main Street, a car pulled up to the curb ahead of him and the driver leaned over to roll down the window. "Mr. Blackwell, are you alright?"
This was just great, Jonathon thought, continuing down the sidewalk. It was Myrick, the worker from the mine who'd given him and Billy a ride to the hospital the day his father died.
"I'm fine," Jonathon spat, and then he stopped. If all the businesses were closed, he'd be in a real bind. When he thought about how he'd have to go around knocking on doors, begging people to let him use their phone, he knew he didn't have any other choice. "Can you give me a ride home?" he asked, approaching the car.
"Yes, sir, Mr. Blackwell!" Myrick said, pushing the door open for him.
While Myrick pulled away from the curb, Jonathon rolled the window up, feeling awful. Was this fate stepping in again, piling more misery on top of what he'd already gone through by reminding him of the day his father died?
The car radio was on, and a news announcer was talking fast in an agitated way. Jonathon turned it off. "Do you mind?" he asked, knowing Myrick wouldn't dare refuse.
"No, no, not at all," Myrick agreed hurriedly.
"I don't want to hear it," Jonathon muttered, facing the window. Thankfully, Myrick took the hint and remained silent during the rest of the drive.
When he stopped in front of the locked gate, Jonathon opened the door. "Thanks," he said, climbing out.
"Sure thing, Mr. Blackwell."
Jonathon pulled a set of keys out of his pocket and waved Myrick off. After he'd padlocked the gate behind him, he limped down the darkening drive to the house, his frozen feet crunching in the snow. He'd have Annie build a fire in the library where he could be alone with a stiff drink. He didn't want to talk to anyone tonight.
Stepping into the dim front hall, he closed the front door behind him and turned on the light. While he pulled off his coat, Billy came thundering down the stairs.
"Johnny! You're here! Annie!" he shouted louder. "Johnny's here!"
"What's with all the yelling?" Jonathon said irritably. "You know better than that."
"Where have you been?" his brother demanded.
"I was in town," Jonathon said, studying his brother. He was clearly upset about something. Then Annie appeared, hurrying towards him.
"Oh, thank goodness, you're here!" she cried, clasping her hands. "We didn't know what happened to you!"
"I was just in town," Jonathon said, looking between them. "What's wrong with you two?"
"After what happened, and then you went missing," Billy said breathlessly. "James has been looking everywhere for you!"
"We thought you'd been kidnapped!" Annie cried.
"What? That's crazy! And what are you talking about? You're not making any sense!"
"Haven't you heard?" Billy said sounding even more desperate. "The Japanese attacked our navy in Hawaii. They bombed the ships and a lot of people were killed!"
Jonathon's breath left him as he stared at his brother with shock. That couldn't be possible.
"On the radio, they said they sunk some of the ships, and others are damaged. They tried to sink all of them!"
"What's going to happen to us now?" Annie asked, her eyes filling with tears.
"We're in the war," Jonathon said simply, feeling sick.
There was silence as the reality of what that meant settled over each of them.
****
Another bad day for Jonathon all the way around. The War changed every country that was involved, and from here on out, things will never be the same for all our characters. I know some of you wondered if Helen had led Jonathon on somehow, and I'm interested to know what you think about what happened when he went to see her. There's much more to come with her, Jonathon, and Walt!
You probably recognized the name of the restaurant Jonathon goes to. And perhaps the young man who waited on him was familiar too? Yes, he's who you think he is. :) A lot of you have been asking about Kitty and Billy, Jess's parents. You'll be happy to know I'll be including a lot more of their story in future chapters.
Again, thank you so much for continuing with this story! Reading your comments and knowing how much you're all enjoying it means a lot to me! I shall strive to get the next chapter out as soon as I can.
Mona Freeman aka Helen is in the multimedia. I love her sweet, girl-next-door looks.