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Wheresoever They May Be

By Terri Wangard

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Lily
CHAPTER 1
September 1943
“Tomorrow’s the big day.” Lily Swanson joined her friend in the crowd funneling into church. “I hope we aren’t making a mistake.”
Charlotte cast her a wide-eyed glance. “A mistake? Nonsense. The men can’t win this war by themselves. They need us women to make their airplanes. Don’t forget, this was your idea.”
A tiny straw doll hat perched on Charlotte’s head, its brim encircled with artificial flowers. She wore the hat tilted so far forward that Lily expected it to fall off.
With her Bible tucked under her arm, Lily kneaded her hands. “I know, but factory work! Seems like such a rough-and-tumble business.” She jerked her hands apart before she ruined her lace gloves. “Building airplanes is a lot different than clerking at the department store.”
“You did well in training. And it looked okay on our walk-through. Just noisy. Incredibly noisy.” Charlotte repositioned her hat as they entered the foyer. “I’m going to have to find some ear plugs. All that racket gave me a headache.”
Lily nodded, distracted by Charlotte’s hat. She patted her head. The beret she’d fashioned from a Good Housekeeping pattern sat snugly where it belonged.
“I’m not concerned by the outcry that we’ll lose our femininity, or even about the men giving us a hard time. I guess it’s the scope of what we’ll be doing.” Lily nodded to an acquaintance. “If we make a mistake on these airplanes, men in battle could lose their lives.”
“Poo foo. The factory gives them quality control checks before sending them out. How many times did we hear that on our walk-through?”
A smile graced Lily’s lips as they drifted toward the sanctuary doors. Someone’s floral scented perfume tickled her nose, and she held her breath to avoid a sneeze. “I got three letters from Frank yesterday. He wrote them over a month ago. The Fleet must be far out in the Pacific for mail to take so long. I’m sure he still hasn’t gotten my letter about taking a job at Douglas Aircraft.”
“He’ll bust his buttons with pride. Do sailors wear buttons? The only way he’d be prouder is if we made ships instead of airplanes.” Charlotte nodded decisively, and shoved her hat back into place.
“He knows about all the aircraft plants here in Long Beach.” Lily smiled as an older lady approached.
“Good morning, Lily dear.” Mrs. Bassett, who liked to refer to her plumpness as being comfortably padded, thrust a booklet into Lily’s hands. “You wouldn’t mind collecting the Sunday School classroom roll calls for a few weeks, would you? Iris had to go help her daughter in Willits with her new baby.”
Lily’s smile slipped. “Oh, uh, of course.”
“All you need to do is go around to the classrooms after the service and get their rolls, put them in there, and deliver it to the secretary’s office.” Mrs. Bassett twiddled her fingers in a wave. “I knew I could count on you.”
Lily stood still, grasping the register and staring after Mrs. Bassett’s retreating figure. “What just happened?” She glanced sidelong at Charlotte. “Why can’t I say no? She didn’t even think of asking you because everyone knows I’m a pushover.”
Her friend huffed. “I’d say you answered your own question. Oh, by the way, Lily, would you…”
“Charlotte!” Lily narrowed her eyes.
Charlotte laughed, linked arms with her and tugged her through the doorway. “It’s your conscientiousness. That’s what got you a coveted electrical installer job at the plant. You consistently put each wire exactly where it goes.”
Lily smiled, recalling her instructor’s surprise when she correctly bundled the electrical wires every time on the last day of class. “I thought it very nice of Mr. Sumner to admit that women tend to be better suited as welders and electricians because of finer hand-eye coordination than men.”
“And you get the pay to go with it. A dollar an hour is serious money.”
“You’re not doing too bad yourself, you know.”
“Eighty cents an hour. That’s the lowest starting pay for welders.”
Lily patted Charlotte’s arm before easing into a pew where sunlight flowing through the stained-glass window decorated her in red and blue. “Once you find your rhythm, you’ll get a raise. Just wait and see.”
She nodded to the lady already seated before bowing her head to clear her mind for worship. Her prayer touched on each family member: her father, recently remarried; her sister Susan, serving in the Women’s Army Corps; and Frank, aboard a destroyer in the Pacific. The war had been quiet lately. They were due for a battle soon.
“Please, Lord, keep my husband safe.”
#
Walking out of the church after turning in the hastily acquired roll calls, Lily paused to catch her breath. The day was gorgeous. If Frank were home, they might go to the shore and walk along the beach.
Charlotte waited for her. “I’m going to stay up late tonight in preparation for starting the swing shift tomorrow.” She stifled a yawn. “Maybe I’ll take a little nap first to make sure I can stay awake.”
Lily nodded. “I hope volunteering for the swing shift was the right idea. Sleeping late is not going to be easy. I’ve always been an early riser.”
Gertie Schmidt appeared alongside them. “I heard you’re going to work in a factory.” She emphasized factory like it was a dirty word. “Good women don’t work there. I certainly wouldn’t get my hands filthy.”
“We happen to be patriotic. Our husbands are proud we’re doing something to provide the equipment they need as they battle the enemy.” Charlotte raised her nose higher than Gertie’s. “Of course, you wouldn’t understand since your husband isn’t fighting.”
“Clyde’s serving, too.” Gertie’s face flushed crimson. “He supports the army.”
“Uh-huh. That’s what women are doing now. Supporting the troops so the men can fight and get this war over and done with.”
Lily laid a hand on Charlotte’s arm. “We should be going.”
They walked down to the street lined by a row of palm trees. “Ooh, that woman makes me mad.” Charlotte fluttered her fingers and mimicked Gertie’s tone. “‘I wouldn’t get my hands filthy.’ When has war ever been neat and tidy?”
They paused as Doctor Crawford turned out of the church’s drive. “And him. Just because he draws a bigger gas ration for his job, he flaunts it by driving three blocks to church.”
“Ah, Charlotte, don’t let them ruin your day.” Lily took a deep breath. The breeze from the west carried a hint of the sea. “I need to go out to the garage and find Frank’s tool box. No point in buying my own tools when I can use my husband’s.”
“You’re lucky there. Martin doesn’t have any. If the sink’s dripping, he calls his brother to fix it. If you ask him to check the oil on a car, he doesn’t know where to look. I can only hope he learns a little handyman stuff in the service.”
Lily stifled a laugh. During Frank’s last leave, the Beltons’ backyard barbecue served as a good example. Martin had stared at the coals, match in hand. “Are you sure they don’t need to be doused with gasoline first?”
Frank hadn’t bothered to hide a grin as he lounged beneath their orange tree, lazily peeling an orange. “Not unless you want to give your garage a crisp, black coating.”
Charlotte had snatched the matchbook from her husband. “Frank already sprinkled them with lighter fluid.” She struck a match and flipped it onto the coals. With a soft whomp, a fire blazed to life.
Poor Martin. He spent too much time buried in his law books. Lily drew her lips between her teeth. Hopefully, the army was kind to him. And someone must have pointed out the business end of a rifle to him before he fired one. She couldn’t help snickering every time she thought of that barbecue.
Parting with Charlotte at the corner, Lily picked up her pace until she arrived at the small bungalow she called home, a blue star in the window heralding Frank’s service. Two lemon trees sagged under the weight of their fruit. With sugar rationed, she hadn’t been making her weekly batch of lemonade. Now was the time to splurge. It would taste good with her lunch at the aircraft factory, even if it was a bit tart.
After lunch, she headed for the garage and rummaged for Frank’s toolbox. She hefted it onto the workbench. Goodness, it was heavy. She unclasped the catch and peered inside. Hmm. Screwdrivers. She’d need those. Hammer? Not likely. She set it aside and pulled out a wire cutter. Yes, likely. Pliers? Yes, again. A wrench? Who knew if that would be useful? The instructor hadn’t used one, but she’d better take it along.
The box still felt heavy after her inventory. With a shrug, she closed the lid. After the first few days, she’d have a better idea what she could leave behind. She lugged it to the house.
A car turned in her driveway. Daddy? She parked the toolbox on the doorstep and hurried to greet him.
“I brought you something, sweetheart.” He opened the rear door and pulled back a blanket.
Lily clasped her hands together. “Mom’s sewing machine. That’s it, isn’t it? Yes, there’s the scratch where Susan dropped the sewing shears.” Threw down the shears was more accurate, but no need to get into that. “How’d you get it back?”
She’d been horrified when she’d gone to Daddy’s home in Los Angeles the previous week and discovered his new wife had sold Mom’s machine. How dare she without even asking? Lily’s tiny home lacked the space for a sewing area or she would have brought it here when she and Frank moved in. Susan wouldn’t have cared, as her sister had no interest in sewing.
Daddy had always welcomed her visits to work on a new project. He’d sit nearby and they’d visit over the sewing machine’s whirr. He’d been lonely after Mom and Ray had died in an accident. But then he married Vera, and Vera discouraged her visits because “the newlyweds need time alone together.”
Vera had made it her goal to erase any reminders of his first wife and his children. Lily had been shocked during her first visit to find photos of Vera’s family on the walls where their own pictures had been displayed for years. Three times, she’d asked what happened to them. Finally, Vera gave a dismissive shrug and said she’d tucked them away somewhere safe. Lily found them shoved into a bottom drawer, her brother’s last portrait wrinkled and torn.
“I bought it back.” A conspiratorial twinkle brightened Daddy’s eyes. “Vera sold it to a neighbor who was puzzled why you hadn’t wanted it. Mrs. Newkirk thought maybe you’d managed to find a new-fangled machine even with the war shortage. She sold it back to me without trying to make a profit.”
“Thank you, Daddy. And thank Mrs. Newkirk for me.” Lily hugged her father for a long moment. Their days had been happier before the train crashed into Mom’s car, killing her and Ray, before the war took Frank away, before Vera. She stepped back and dashed a hand across her eyes. No time to get maudlin. “I need to sew myself some slacks for work. Tomorrow I’ll wear Frank’s old pants that I altered to wear in the garden. It’s my first day on the job.”
“My daughter, the electrician.” Daddy had been surprised when she gave up her clerking job for war work, but he hadn’t tried to discourage her.
Lily interlaced her fingers as Daddy eased the sewing machine from the car. “Oh, Daddy, I can’t believe I’m going to be working in a factory.”
“You’ll do great, honey. You always do.” He kissed her cheek. “I’m proud of you. Your mother would be, too. And so will Frank.”

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