Beyond the Carousel Read online

  “I’m sorry,” she said apologetically. “I didn’t know that’s what they were going to do. I wasn’t trying to be a troublemaker.”

  She mumbled a feeble explanation about the eggs not being her idea, but by then it was too late. Jack Mahoney was already loading her into the patrol car.

  Only two people were taken to the station house that day: Christine Wilkes and Gertrude Hamm.

  * * *

  Patrolman Jack Mahoney had been on the force for less than a year. He was hoping to make detective someday, so he volunteered for the duty assignments no one else wanted. Maintaining crowd control with the striking switchboard operators was just such an assignment. When he arrived at the station house with a tearful Christine Wilkes in tow he intended to turn her over to Sergeant Hastings for interrogation, but there had been a jewelry store robbery on Lambert Street and the precinct was two men short.

  Having lost patience with hauling in people who would walk free in an hour or two, the captain told Jack to handle it himself.

  “This is small potatoes,” he said. “Give her a warning then cut her loose.”

  Following orders, Jack led Christine into an interrogation room, sat her at the table and removed the handcuffs.

  “Sorry about that,” he said.

  “Sorry?” she replied, rubbing her chafed wrists. “I should think you would be. I told you I wasn’t part of that group. If you wanted to arrest someone, why didn’t you arrest the people throwing eggs?”

  “The others didn’t bring the eggs to the demonstration; you did.”

  “I didn’t exactly bring them,” she said. “I went back to the A&P and bought them because that’s what I was told to do. How was I supposed to know what they were planning?”

  “Didn’t you think ten dozen eggs was a rather strange request?”

  Christine hesitated for a moment, wondering if perhaps she had known what was going to happen. She gave a pensive sigh then said, “I can’t honestly say whether or not I suspected they’d throw the eggs. I didn’t know what they were planning, but I didn’t think it through either.”

  The genuineness of her statement caused the corners of Jack’s mouth to curl. Granted he’d had less than a year’s experience, but this girl had none of the earmarks of a rabble-rouser.

  Changing tactics, he asked, “Do you want something to drink? Water? Coffee?”

  “A glass of water, please,” she replied.

  Leaving her at the table, he disappeared out the door and returned a few minutes later with a glass of water and two bottles of Coke.

  “I thought you might enjoy this,” he said and handed her a bottle.

  “Thanks.”

  “It’s nothing,” Jack said nonchalantly. He lowered himself back into the chair and downed a long swig of soda before he asked his next question.

  “When the union rep spoke to the group and discussed the strike, was there any mention of egging the building?”

  “I told you before, I’m not part of the union group,” Christine said. “I didn’t even know there was going to be a strike. I was on my way back to work when I ran into the crowd in front of the building.”

  “On your way back to work? Are you working split shift?”

  “Yes,” she said with a weary nod. “Or at least I was. I imagine there’s a possibility I’ll get fired because I didn’t show up for work this evening, and then…”

  “You won’t get fired,” Jack assured her. “The telephone company is trying to make peace with the union. They’re not about to bicker over somebody willing or not willing to cross the picket line.”

  Jack asked a string of questions, mostly to prolong the conversation rather than obtain information. He asked if she knew the organizers of the rally, if she could name any of the participants and how long had she been working at the telephone company. Her answers were no and no; then she explained.

  “This is only my third week on the job. I moved here from Wyattsville.”

  “So you’re new in town?” Jack gave a warm smile. “Well, other than the inside of a police station, have you seen much of the city?”

  “Not recently.” Christine returned the smile and found herself liking him despite the situation. “Mama and I used to come to Richmond, but then she got sick and…”

  “She’s better now?”

  “No.” Christine shook her head sadly. “She died. Now she’s with Daddy.”

  They sat and talked for a while longer—not about unions, or demonstrations, or egg throwing, but about life and the unfairness it sometimes brings. In time Jack excused himself and left the room again. When he came back, he told Christine she was free to go and he’d be happy to drive her home.

  “Thanks,” Christine said, “but I’d better go back to work so I don’t get fired.”

  Jack frowned and shook his head. “Not a good idea. The demonstrators are still out there. Go home, and when you go in tomorrow just tell your boss you couldn’t get past the picket line.”

  “But that’s not the truth.”

  He gave her a playful grin. “It’s close enough.”

  When they left the stationhouse, Jack dropped her back at her apartment building and returned to finish his assignment working crowd control at the Southern Atlantic Telephone Company. The funny thing was that as he scanned the shifting crowd of faces, he kept seeing hers.

  Getting to Know You

  On Thursday morning the Southern Atlantic Telephone Company agreed to return to the bargaining table, and the strike was called off. The switchboard operators resumed work that afternoon, and there were no further ramifications. With one exception.

  Florence was on the management team pulled in to handle calls the previous day, which rankled her to no end. Usually the supervisor strolled back and forth behind the row of girls at the switchboard and gave a gentle tap on the shoulder and a suggestion for improvement. The hard click of Florence’s heels against the linoleum and the bristly tone of her voice told of her frustration at being pulled back to the switchboard during the strike.

  When Christine returned for the Thursday evening segment of her shift, she hurried to her station and plugged herself in. She was in the middle of connecting 57834 to a number in the Pikestown area when Florence tapped her on the shoulder.

  “I’m expecting you to work the split shift on Saturday to make up for lost time,” she said sharply. “Otherwise you’ll be docked.”

  Saturday was the day Christine planned to have supper with Missus Feeney and the gentlemen at the boarding house.

  “Can I do Sunday instead?” she asked.

  “Do you not like your job?” Florence snapped. “Your shenanigans caused me a great deal of inconvenience, and—”

  “I’m sorry,” Christine cut in. “I’ll be happy to do Saturday.”

  At eight o’clock when she took her fifteen-minute break, Christine called Missus Feeney and explained the situation.

  “Would it be okay if I come on Sunday?” she asked.

  “Certainly,” Missus Feeney replied. “Just remember Sunday supper is early, so be here by five.”

  “Five it is,” Christine replied brightly. She asked how all of the men were doing and said she missed everybody.

  “We miss you too,” Missus Feeney replied. “Stick’s asked me three times when you’re coming to dinner, and Lawrence has got a copy of Sinclair Lewis’s new book for you.”

  They chatted for a few minutes; then she hung up and returned to work. As Christine stepped back onto the switchboard platform, something warm settled inside of her. Less than two months earlier she’d come to Richmond feeling lost and alone; now she had a life. She had a job, an apartment and friends. Angie and the girls she worked with, Missus Feeney, Lawrence, Edward, Stick.

  She pictured Stick with his kind words and shy smile. It would be good to see Stick again.

  * * *

  By Friday everything was back to normal at the telephone company. Christine arrived at 6AM and worked until 10AM. With eight
hours before she had to return for the evening shift, she hurried from the building and pulled the list of errands from her pocket. First she would stop at the dry cleaner and after that…

  She didn’t see Jack until he touched his hand to her arm.

  “Hi, there.”

  Christine jerked back. “Oh, my gosh, you startled me.”

  “I’m sorry. I wanted to catch you when you came off your shift, but you shot by so quickly—”

  She laughed. “I guess I was concentrating on today’s to-do list.”

  “I hope egg buying isn’t on that list,” Jack said.

  He laughed, and she laughed with him.

  “Don’t tell me you’re planning to arrest me again.”

  “Absolutely not.”

  He gave a sheepish grin, and his eyes crinkled at the corners. He was wearing his uniform, and she caught the faint smell of a leathery aftershave.

  “This is my regular beat,” he said. “I just thought I’d stop by to make sure you’re okay. You know, make certain there were no problems with the job.”

  “No problems. They didn’t fire anybody, but our supervisor let us know she was not happy.”

  Jack glanced at his watch then said, “I was about to take a break. Want to join me for a cup of coffee?”

  A warm, glowing feeling settled in Christine’s chest as she began to suspect she was the reason he’d decided to take a break at this very moment. She smiled and tucked the list back into her pocket.

  “Sure,” she said, “I’d love to.”

  They bypassed the crowded luncheonette a few doors down from the telephone company and walked three blocks to the Brown Bean. With his hand barely touching her elbow, Jack guided Christine to one of the red leather booths in the back of the shop. He stood and waited until she slid in then took off his hat and slid in on the opposite side. He handed her the menu lying on the table and looked across as if he were studying her face.

  Until now Christine hadn’t noticed the soft hazel color of his eyes, greenish almost but with a touch of gray. His hair, brown and tousled from wearing the hat, was sun-streaked in places. He had a strong jawline and an easy smile, and he looked handsomer than she remembered him being.

  “You mentioned you’re new in town,” he said. “So what brought you to Richmond?”

  “It’s what my mama wanted.”

  Christine looked down at the hands in her lap as she told him of the will and the granddaddy living back in Wyattsville.

  “After Daddy died, Mama and I somehow seemed happier when we were here in Richmond. I think she wanted to believe I’d come here and find that kind of happiness again.”

  “Have you?” Jack asked.

  She looked up and allowed her gaze to meet his.

  “I’m starting to,” she said and smiled.

  There was no awkwardness in their conversation. It shifted back and forth easily with each statement leading into the next one. She told him about leaving Wyattsville and moving into Missus Feeney’s Boarding House, and he told her he’d lived in Richmond all his life.

  “What made you decide to become a policeman?” she asked.

  Jack chuckled. “Gus Barnes. He was a cop who lived down the street from us. Gus liked to fix things: broken bicycles, bent roller skates, toys of any kind. At Christmastime Gus would put on a Santa suit and deliver those toys to kids whose families couldn’t afford to buy presents. It was during the Depression and everybody was struggling, but when Gus showed up we all knew we’d get something.”

  Close up Christine could see Jack’s mouth was just a tiny bit crooked, higher on the right side than the left, but the imperfection made him look all the more handsome. Moving her thoughts back to the story, she leaned in and smiled.

  “Gus sounds like a swell guy.”

  “Yeah, he was.”

  “Was?”

  Jack nodded. “Gus was killed five years ago. My dad and I cried when we heard the news. Saint Agatha’s had a mass, and so many people came they overflowed the church. Everybody loved the guy.”

  Without pausing to think about it, Christine stretched her arm across the table and covered his hand with hers.

  “That’s so touching…” she murmured with sympathy.

  He saw her small hand atop his and felt the warmth of it. Turning his hand palm up he twined his fingers around her wrist and remained there for a few moments. Jack wanted to stay. He wanted to sit there having cup after cup of coffee and talk for hours, but he had a job to do.

  “I’ve got to get back to work now,” he said. “Can we continue this conversation tomorrow over supper?”

  “I’d love to,” she answered, “but I have to work.”

  “On a Saturday?”

  “It’s my penance for the strike.”

  “Sunday then?”

  She tilted her head and gave an apologetic shrug. “Afraid not. I promised Missus Feeney I’d come for supper.”

  “Oh.” Jack’s disappointment was obvious. He released his hold on her hand. “Maybe some other time?”

  “I’d like that.”

  They left the coffee shop and walked together for three blocks. When she turned onto Mason Street, he remained on Gerard.

  “See you soon,” he said and gave a wave.

  “Yes, soon,” she answered. Partway down Mason she turned to see if he was watching her. He wasn’t.

  * * *

  Saturday was a slow day at the switchboard. The busyness of weekdays was missing, and the time dragged by. The morning hours brought less than a dozen flashing call lights and there were seven girls working, three strikers and four regulars.

  Angie, also working the split shift to make up for strike time, leaned toward Christine and whispered, “I am so bored I could scream. I suppose this is Flo’s idea of payback.”

  Christine giggled at the thought of calling the stern supervisor “Flo.” She gave a nod and rolled her eyes. “And I had to turn down a terrific date for this.”

  Angie grinned. “With who?”

  “That cute policeman who arrested me the day of the strike.”

  Angie guffawed, and within seconds the click of Florence’s heels was right behind her.

  “There is no socializing while you are at your work station!” she bellowed. “Do you understand that?”

  “Yes, ma’am,” they both replied.

  When Christine left for the afternoon, she did some of the errands she’d put off the day before but with less exuberance. She picked up the dry cleaning, shopped at Friendly’s Market then on the way home bought a bouquet of flowers for Missus Feeney. She was hoping perhaps Jack would call but then realized he hadn’t even asked for her telephone number.

  When he said, “Maybe some other time,” she’d said, “I’d like that.” Was that definite enough? Was he looking for something more? Should she have suggested next weekend?

  No, she thought, that would have been much too bold.

  Luckily when she returned to work for the evening shift, the switchboard was a bit busier. Not busy enough to stop her from thinking about him but busy enough so the hours didn’t drag on as they had that morning. At ten o’clock she unplugged her headset from the workstation, returned to the locker room, gathered her purse and left the building.

  One thing Christine did not like about working split shift was walking home in the dark. Weeknights there were usually a few businessmen still closing up shop, but this night was exceptionally quiet. She glanced right then left. The street was empty. She started down Gerard then heard footsteps behind her and quickened her pace.

  “Hey, wait up!”

  She recognized the voice, turned and saw Jack Mahoney, not in his uniform but wearing a yellow sweater and brown slacks.

  “I thought you might like some company for your walk home,” he said.

  “Where’d you come from?”

  “The bench across the street. I was waiting for you.”

  He fell into step and walked alongside of her.

  �
�Next Saturday the Richmond Colts are playing the Roanoke Red Sox. It’s not major league, but Roanoke won the league championship last year. The stadium hot dogs are good and the beer is cold, so I was wondering—”

  “I’d love to.”

  Jack blinked once or twice. “No buts this time?”

  She smiled and looped her arm through his. “No buts.”

  On Sunday Christine drove crosstown to Bailey Street, parked in back of the boardinghouse then walked around to the front door and knocked. It was several minutes before Missus Feeney tugged the door open.

  “Good grief,” she said through heaving breaths, “why didn’t you just come through the kitchen instead of making me run all this way?”

  “Well, I thought since I don’t live here anymore…”

  “For you this will always be home, and you’d best not forget it.”

  Irene Feeney stopped in the center hall and called up the stairs for Lawrence to get a move on.

  “Supper’s ready, and Christine’s here,” she called.

  When they settled at the table, Lawrence was first to ask about the job. Christine began by telling how the job that once seemed so difficult was now easy enough for her to do it blindfolded.

  “Well, not actually blindfolded,” she added with a chuckle, “because I still have to see the numbers.”

  She talked about the apartment and the new friends she’d made then segued into the story of the strike.

  “I hadn’t been to a single union meeting, but I was still the one arrested.”

  Everyone laughed as she told about buying the eggs and carrying them back for the demonstrators to toss at the building.

  “It was very embarrassing to be carted off in a patrol car, but one good thing did come of it,” she said. “I met a really nice policeman named Jack Mahoney.”

  She told how he was waiting for her when she left work Saturday night and had walked her home. With a happy but rather goofy looking grin she added, “He’s taking me to a baseball game next Saturday.”