“Well, I don’t know, Mr. Bentley.” The woman tucked her hair back behind her ear. This was the third time Mr. Bentley had offered to drive her home since she had started working at the cannery. He made this offer every month after asking her to stay late to clear the invoices. He told her that he owed it to her for making her miss the last bus. Each time, she argued that it was an unnecessary use of his gas rations. It really wasn’t too far to walk.
That was a lie, of course. It was well over two miles and the road petered out at the edge of town making the final mile a dusty affair. As for any strain on his gas coupons, she knew he had an in with someone on the Rationing Board and had more than enough ration coupons. The truth was she didn’t want to explain to her mother—again—that a twenty-five year old woman could be alone with a single man in the office or an automobile. The man had been nothing but a gentleman.
“Agnes, be sensible. It’s started to rain. You’ll be soaked before you leave Main Street. Now, how will I feel if you get sick?” He smiled ingratiatingly at her. “For that matter, what will the office do if you can’t come in because you’re down with a cold? This is what you get for making yourself indispensable.”
He lifted her coat off the coat tree and held it out as if to help her on with it. That felt way too intimate and she hesitated so he handed it to her.
“You wait at the door while I get the car,” using a tone that brooked no argument. He donned his coat, took his umbrella out of the stand, and walked into the hall.
“Be sure to lock the door behind you,” he cautioned. As if she would ever forget. Honestly. “Ernie said he saw some drifters out at the lake.” Agnes just nodded, smiling pleasantly. Of course, Ernie was always seeing drifters, or at least he had been since the war started. He was seeing Krauts around every corner and Japs hiding under the bed of every woman who was now living by herself.
Or, widowed, she thought. At least being single spared her the heartache of wondering where her husband or fiancé was. Most of her friends had gotten married within days of Pearl Harbor. She had been an impromptu bridesmaid at more than a few of those hasty ceremonies.
She shut the door and locked the bolt, shaking it to make sure that it had caught—this time. Sighing, she stood at the door, waiting for her boss to pull up. My, she thought, it is really coming down. Surely, her mother couldn’t fault her for accepting his kindness under these conditions.
He really was a kind man. She rather liked him even though he was quite a bit older, almost ten years. He wasn’t in the service so he must have something wrong with him. Whatever it was, it didn’t show. He seemed as spry as most of the twenty-year-olds that she knew. Really, thirty-four wasn’t so very old.
She sniffed. It didn’t matter what she thought. He hadn’t shown her the least interest.
As he pulled up out front, he waved for her to wait for him at the door. She thought it was silly but that was the kind of man he was.
He got out of his DeSoto, wrestling the umbrella in front of him to come around and hold it over her while he opened the door to the automobile. She loved his DeSoto. It was only a coupé but to her it felt like something out of a dream. He liked to hear her scream as he raced down the road at forty miles per hour. He could only speed like that after he was out of town but it always gave her a thrill. She acted as if she was terrified but she loved every minute of it.
He wouldn’t be doing that tonight, not in these conditions. The road was flat but it had a few curves that made him slow the car in the best of weather. Tonight, he would be lucky to see those curves before they were upon them. It didn’t matter. It wasn’t the bus.
“There we are.” He smiled across at her as he released the brake and put the car in gear. He started humming a little tune, which was very unlike him. Could he be nervous about being alone with her? What a ridiculous thought that was. She would have to stop thinking that right now.
“Uh, actually, Agnes.” He cleared his throat. “I’ve wanted to talk to you about something.”
Agnes felt her stomach clench, hoping he had meant what he said earlier about her being indispensable. However, this felt like it was leading up to bad news. There wasn’t another job like this one without going into Baltimore. Her mother would never allow that, even if she could earn as much as seventy-five cents an hour. She steeled herself for the worst.
“Yes, Mr. Bentley?”
“I wish you would call me, Arthur.” He looked upset but maybe he didn’t feel well.
“Oh, that wouldn’t be right, Mr. Bentley. What would the other employees say if they heard me call you by your given name?”
“Well, you could at least do it while we’re alone, couldn’t you?”
“I don’t know. If I got used to it, well, you see the problem.”
“The other employees?” Now he sounded teasing. She could feel herself blush and could only nod.
“What do you think the other employees would think if you were to accompany me to a movie one Saturday?”
“Oh, Mr. Bentley.” Her hand flew to her mouth in shock that he could suggest such a thing. She couldn’t, could she? She stared out at the rain but could feel his eyes on her.
Suddenly, her hand flew toward the windscreen as if of its own volition.
“Stop, Mr. Bentley,” she yelled.
“What. I didn’t …”
“Mr. Bentley. Arthur. Stop.”
A spectre was standing in the curve at the edge of the road, staring blindly at the oncoming lights. As the car swerved to miss the being, they could see it collapsing slowly, arm outstretched across the berm.
The DeSoto slewed to the right and stopped just beyond the prostrate form.
Before he could stop her, Agnes grabbed his umbrella and jumped out of the car to run to the body. She started to kneel down in the mud but he took her by the elbow and gently moved her out of the way.
“Who is it, Arthur?”
He was checking along the form, looking for pockets, looking for anything familiar beyond the face and the hand. As he patted the form, he suddenly pulled his hands away, almost as if he had been scorched.
“She’s still alive but …”
“It’s a woman?” Agnes frowned at that impossibility. “Is it …. Is she someone we know.”
He was shaking his head.
“Get in the car, Agnes. We have to go back to town and get Ernie.”
“Shouldn’t we take her with us?”
“No!” He closed his eyes, forcing himself to calm. “No, I don’t think so. I don’t want to move her without a doctor present. I also want you to be safe.”
“Arthur, Mr. Bentley, she’s unconscious. She couldn’t hurt us, could she?”
“I don’t know and I’m not sure she’s alone.”
“Can we at least move her out of the road?”
He nodded and rolled the body toward the bracken lining the dirt road. Agnes felt her breath catch as the light spilling from the open car door briefly illuminated the woman’s face.
“My God.”
“Yes. I’m afraid she might have escaped from the detention center or one of those camps.” He grinned up at her, blinking in the light rain. “Maybe Ernie is right about there being a Jap under every bed.
“Here, let’s get you back into the car.” He stood and took the umbrella from her as he steered her back to the car. As he helped her in, she looked up at him.
“Could we at least leave the umbrella to help keep the rain off her? I know it’s a terrible imposition but …”
“That’s my girl.” He smiled at her in a way brought on another flush to her face. “Of course we can. I’m not sure she needs it though.”
“She’s not …” Again, her fingers were in front of her mouth, this time in fear.
“No, I think she’ll last long enough for us to get help. It’s just, I don’t know. Her clothes felt strange. They didn’t feel wet and they were almost warm. I’ve never felt anything like it. It was …” He shook his head again.
He left the umbrella so that it would shield the woman’s head and came around to get in the car.
“One good thing came out of this.” He smiled across at her. “I finally got you to call me Arthur.”
When they checked the next day, Ernie told them that government agents had come down pronto and were waiting to take the woman with them. He didn’t know any more than that and didn’t want to.
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