Arrogant Agitation: Pleasure and Struggle in the 1960S

By Anna Baumbach

For Gretchen Brooktree, life is a bit of a struggle. It is 1961, and she works as a secretary to the commanding officer of an air force base, returning home at night to her familys farm. She is isolated from city life and worldly affairs by both distance and a fundamentalist parochial education. Gretchen can recite Bible verses and the tenets of her religion and loves to learn, but she is unsophisticated and unfamiliar with the social ways of the world.

Thus, when she suddenly finds herself in love with a highly educated, city-born college graduate, Gretchen faces the prospect of numerous challenges and adjustments. Identifying with her new nickname--Brook--she pulls herself together and gets to work. She enters the University of California-Berkeley, where she is stunned by what she does not know and struggles to keep up. Slowly, she loses the archaic ideas and concepts she has carried since childhood and learns how to make her way in the world. As she does so, Brook emerges into the person she has always known she could be.

Based on a true story, this historical novel explores the life of one woman in the chaotic 1960s as she struggles to overcome her past and become a new person.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Archway Publishing
• Release date: Jul 16, 2015
• ISBN: 9781480818187

Anna Baumbach

Anna Baumbach is a graduate of the University of California-Berkeley, where she majored in history. She is the coauthor of two published peer-reviewed scientific papers through a national laboratory. She now lives in the San Francisco Bay area in close proximity to her two daughters and four grandchildren.

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Copyright © 2015 Anna Baumbach.

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced by any means, graphic, electronic, or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, taping or by any information storage retrieval system without the written permission of the author except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles and reviews.

This is a work of fiction based on a true story. Names and some places, where necessary, have been changed to protect the characters. As the author I have quite liberally added to the events and characters to more effectively make a point or to add intrigue.

Archway Publishing

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Bloomington, IN 47403

www.archwaypublishing.com

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Because of the dynamic nature of the Internet, any web addresses or links contained in this book may have changed since publication and may no longer be valid. The views expressed in this work are solely those of the author and do not necessarily reflect the views of the publisher, and the publisher hereby disclaims any responsibility for them.

Any people depicted in stock imagery provided by Thinkstock are models, and such images are being used for illustrative purposes only.

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ISBN: 978-1-4808-1816-3 (sc)

ISBN: 978-1-4808-1817-0 (hc)

ISBN: 978-1-4808-1818-7 (e)

Library of Congress Control Number: 2015908346

Archway Publishing rev. date: 8/19/2015

Contents

1    1961

2    Goldwood Hospital

3    The Second Date

4    Yosemite

5    Tragedy

6    Waterskiing

7    Snow Skiing

8    The Dinner

9    The Midnight Visit

10    The Shared Proposal

11    Pain Is Hell

12    The University of California

13    Kirk’s Confession

14    Aspen Hall

15    Beginning of Good-Byes

16    New Year’s Eve

17    Las Vegas

18    Letting Go

19    The Last Match

20    David

21    Playing at Life

22    Wine Festival

23    The First Kiss

24    Summer of Escape

25    The Final Farewell

26    Chaos

27    And More Chaos

28    The Free Speech Movement

29    The Ultimate Decision

30    God, Are You There?

In Memoriam

Eric Anton Nering

My husband and

soulmate for many amazingly enjoyable years.

And

Jacob Michael Tarkoff

Our wonderful forever baby.

We wish you were still with us.

This book is dedicated to my two beautiful daughters, Jill and Jan, who give my life wonder and purpose. You are both amazing.

And

William Schawbel, for his encouragement and tireless reading and rereading of this manuscript. Thank you.

It is our will

That thus enchains us to permitted ill

We might be otherwise—we might be all

We dream of happy, high, majestical.

Where is the love, beauty and truth we seek

But in our minds?

—Percy Bysshe Shelley,

Julian and Maddalo

1

1961

G retchen Brooktree felt plagued as though plagues were invented for her. Sure, others had it worse. A lot worse. But that didn’t erase her reality, her situation, from imploding her senses with thoughts of dread. From the get-go Gretchen felt that her life had been one long, incredibly, ridiculously stupid situation, and through it all she had always prudently tried to make the best of it; make it better somehow. Inevitably her efforts usually aided the continuation of the hopeless incorrect path. But then, into her office at the air force base walked three 2 nd lieutenants and her life changed in that instant.

The three lieutenants were new graduates of officer’s candidate school (OCS). All three recruits walked into her office to meet the commanding officer (CO) of the base. She had to admit that all three 2nd lieutenants looked good to her, even though she had a steady boyfriend, the same one for over a year. The one named Bryan Brimstone, however, stood out mainly because he was the one who was glutting the conversational airwaves, making entertainingly sarcastic jokes, and telling her how beautiful and brilliant she was when she had hardly said a word except for inviting them to sit. She laughed. And of course, all three had refused her invitation to sit for fear the CO might walk through the door at any moment, catching them unprepared for making an instant salute.

Gretchen liked Bryan instantly. He seemed bright, intelligent, and humorous and commanded her attention to him and away from the other new lieutenants during the entire time the three of them stood directly in front of her desk while waiting for her boss to be free to greet and welcome them to the base. Bryan was certainly not bad looking with those soulful, darkly mischievous eyes plus that constant grin and thick, dark hair.

The lieutenants waited fifteen minutes to see the CO, and those fifteen minutes were a delight, a marvelous contrast from all her normal, day-to-day experiences and tasks. It was so dominated by Bryan’s exuberance that the other two lieutenants sarcastically and in no uncertain terms asked him to shut up so they could get in their own pieces of conversation. They never did; they were not allowed. This encounter was totally his.

Gretchen had no idea what relationships the three left behind at home or at the officer candidate school, but she thought Bryan might ask her out. He did not. But Lieutenant Daniel Danover, who originated from the mid-western United States and was a recent graduate of the University of British Columbia (UBC) in Vancouver, Canada, did ask her to accompany him to a party at the officers’ club, a hillbilly night. She had spoken to him several times regarding the immediate business at hand but never personally. Then one day, the door to her office opened, and there he was, an attractive man with light-brown hair and blue eyes sparkling like pools of water. His face was chiseled, the allure of masculinity in bloom. The military uniform heightened his rugged appearance as much as casual clothing softened it. This duality served him well, adding to his aura, interest, and charm.

His sandy-brown hair led people to believe he was a California native right off the beach, which, when mentioned, always made him flinch or burst out vocally with annoyance. One of the last things he wanted was to be one of the numerous Californians, blending into a haze of beach boys or just blending into what he perceived as a crowd, a crowd of Californians. California, according to Daniel, was not a place one should covet. It had spectacular beauty, but the inhabitants ruined it. Bottom line, he wanted California for himself only, and everyone else should be required to relocate—off the continent, if possible.

Daniel was slightly less than six feet tall. When asked his height, he added varying inch partials. When queried as to why, he stated that every fraction counted. These were Daniel’s facts. He was always opinionated and loved stirring up debate, arguing for a defeated opinion and admitting to defeat only when that was his desire, when he grew tired of the game, the banter.

Gretchen Brooktree had been reared on a farm in rural California. Her hair was long and shiny with health and was bronze-gold in color, the same color as her eyes. Her looks and her smile had made her a popular person in her hometown, although she knew few people since she had attended parochial school until her sophomore year of high school. Her tendency was to say hello and smile at literally everyone.

The Saturday evening of the hillbilly party, Daniel was feeling defeated because he was on his way to pick up this wonderfully poised, charming girl in what he considered to be a dumpy old Ford—a four-door with a dull green color like a cucumber that had been lying in the sun too long. He wanted to make a distinctly positive impression on Gretchen, to appear dashing, and here he was in a beat-up old Ford while wearing hillbilly clothes. He felt the fool.

Gretchen had given Daniel detailed directions to her house. Even so, it was a feat in itself that he actually found it located on a lonely country road with no center white line down the middle, no driveway markers, no streetlights, no glowing mailbox—nothing. He felt lost and alone in his search. He had thought that surely she would live in a well-lit mansion of some sort, so where were all the lights? He’d had to guess to some degree while following her directions; actually, he had guessed to a large degree, never having thought she might live in the boonies. In fact, he passed the driveway leading back to her house two or three times before deciding to venture into the one with the markings Gretchen had described. And then, for Christ’s sake, to find such an antiquated house, a shack really, made him want to keep on going right around the circle of the driveway in front of the house and back out onto the road, but of course, Gretchen would know that he had done this. All she had to do was look out the window, and she’d know. How could he explain his reaction? Up to this time, life had not prepared him for this situation.

Two fools. He now felt like two fools. He had desperately wanted this date. Finally, he had found that certain inexplicable something, and it throbbed within him whenever he thought of her. But not this. Oh no! Not this. How could he explain this hovel to his friends, to anyone for that matter? Then he realized that the only person he was having difficulty explaining things to was himself, and he got to know himself better at that moment. He was a snob.

Boldly, resolutely, he turned off the ignition and literally stumbled to the door, even though there was a yard light coming from somewhere. Things got worse. The door to the porch area was open, so he went into the porch, which he unwillingly noticed was filled with the sort of stuff one reads about in novels, sees on redneck television, or just views at any junkyard one cares to visit. Then he confronted the next door that led to the house, the outside of which displayed peeling, chipped paint of an indeterminate color. God, he wanted to run. Instead, he knocked.

Gretchen greeted him at the door, smiling and beautiful, and he felt his heart jump. He tried to subdue the feeling but lost the fight. He shook his head a bit and realized that she was introducing him to her parents, very shy parents whom he couldn’t be certain said hello. They did nod, though, and they looked at him almost disapprovingly. Could he be wrong about the look? He didn’t know.

As he glanced around at the spotlessly clean kitchen in which he stood, he extended his hand to shake hands with both parents. They both shook his hand, but again, said nothing.

He was sickened and hated himself for being sickened, but he was visibly disconcerted. Shell-shocked—that was it. That was how he felt. But, oh God, there was Gretchen, radiant, beautiful. He knew he had already fallen in love for the first time in his life. He knew it the first moment he had seen her in her office, just knew she was that one in a million for him. He thought about how much he had dated in college and after graduation and how no one had really done it for him. Several girls he had really liked, but always there had been that indefinite something that was missing.

Gretchen rattled him, would not leave his thoughts. Every waking hour brought the perfectly poised Gretchen to his mind, and he didn’t even know her. Where did she come from? How could she be the result of this family? This? He thought, Shit. He had wanted things to be perfect. No, he had known things would be perfect! Now what would he do? How could he tell his parents about this? He had already told them he had met the girl of his dreams. Now what would he say? What a bastard I am, he angrily thought as he smiled at Gretchen.

The parents he met could not have generated this efficient, accomplished, bright wonder of a person who had been created especially for him. There must have been a mistake; probably the hospital had gotten the babies mixed up. No, that wouldn’t explain how Gretchen could have developed into what she was from the circumstances under which she lived. Well, he was into this evening; he might as well get on with it.

Gretchen was no fool. She sensed his discomfort, as she had with many other dates. She never explained. This was the way things were in her life. You could not hide your birth and background. It was part of what made you into who you were. And, quite amusingly, she sometimes liked to see if whoever could handle the situation. It was a test, so to speak. Daniel had just been tested. What was this guy made of, she wondered? Based on his reaction and discomfort she reasoned that this was both a first and a last date. Sometimes she found her dates’ reactions amusing and other times not. This time, she found herself feeling annoyed and just a bit ashamed. She pushed the shame aside and thought to herself that it was a package deal. You either dealt with it all, or you didn’t deal at all. She thought about mentioning the new, just-finished house into which they were ready to move but decided not to. The scene had been set. She tried to relax while feeling saddened.

Riding to the party Daniel manufactured conversation, talking about himself and how he wanted to do more with his life and learn more but the air force took up all his time. He could hear himself droning; worried he would blurt out his amazement of her life’s surroundings.

To Gretchen, Daniel came off as a mixed-up, nondirectional, whining individual. She listened intently for a time, studying him, and then ventured a suggestion. Why don’t you attend night school, like I do? You can take any subject, something you missed prior to graduating and landing here in the outback air force. What types of interests do you have? She hoped to clear his mind, divert his whining. I mean like art, music, languages, or science? She hated that she was blushing as she spoke, and she knew it was visible. Or teach, she hastened to add.

You attend night school? Daniel heard how startled his voice sounded, and actually he was incredibly surprised. His emotions were on his sleeve, which he hated.

Yes, Bennington, a community college. There is another closer to you, near the base. All sorts of courses are offered. In an attempt to counteract her red face she suggested he take a class in welding or something mechanical that was far from the mainstream university classes. He grinned at the suggestion. She asked, What do you think?

What are you taking? he asked.

This semester it’s genetics, psychology, and philosophy. Makes me an unacceptable woman, but I’d rather be single than stupid.

So why are you taking these courses? Daniel asked.

It’s a curse. Everything fascinates me. I want to know everything.

Great! Fantastic! Daniel’s booming voice exploded in the car. Gretchen stared at him, wondering if he was for real.

In the silence that followed Daniel resumed his whining, again wanting to impress Gretchen. This time it was about his car. It wasn’t good enough or new enough. His complaints drove Gretchen bananas. She thought him ungrateful and shallow.

Neither of them knew that Daniel was really whining about Gretchen’s background. He’d found the girl of his dreams but could not claim her if dealing with her background was part of the picture. He would never want to visit in her parent’s home. End of story. Mentally, he began wiping the slate clean to eliminate her from his thoughts.

Gretchen wondered why in the world she had broken up with her boyfriend to go out with this guy. She had dated quite a bit, but everyone had been of the incorrect religion. No matter how much she liked a fellow, she eventually said good-bye. And she knew she would almost from the beginning. People did not change. Her last boyfriend was Catholic, and he knew he had the correct religion, just as all people believed they had the one true religion. And Gretchen knew she had the correct one. Most religions upheld that their followers would be the only ones to go to heaven. Gretchen had a hard time incorporating that idea into her religious practice, but, still, she did not want to change.

At the party, Gretchen quickly moved about the crowd saying hello. As secretary to the commanding officer, she had met all the officers at the base and was enjoying seeing them on a new level and also meeting their wives.

Gretchen was jerked back to reality when Daniel came up behind her and, voice booming, asked, Hey, do I get to see you tonight, or are you going to spend all your time with everyone else? People act like you’re a queen or something.

She is. I have it from the best source, Bryan Brimstone said from the sidelines, with that twinkle in his eyes and that smirk on his face that was becoming such a familiar sight. Gretchen smiled widely at Bryan, beaming, wishing he would stop and chat a bit. Her wish was not granted as he briskly escorted a captain’s wife onto the dance floor. Gretchen watched him with lingering eyes, wondering.

Hey, cut that out, Daniel said. You’re with me tonight. Gretchen smiled as she and Daniel moved onto the dance floor. They danced closely, quietly. They jitterbugged. Gretchen’s dancing career was extremely limited, almost nonexistent, and she felt she performed slightly better than a rag mop. Fortunately for her, since it was a hillbilly night, western music blared sad tunes, and almost anything resembling dancing seemed to be acceptable.

Intense embarrassment because of her limited dancing ability and a little religious guilt permeated her inner self. She kept dancing, though; telling herself there couldn’t possibly be anything morally wrong with dancing. Here she was doing it, and she certainly didn’t feel any loss of morals. She could see how one’s morals could become degenerate while dancing or doing anything else if that was one’s desire, but she eased her guilt by telling herself that moral degeneracy was not a problem of hers. She came closer to moral degeneracy while washing the dishes after a meal; that’s when belligerent thoughts entered her head. Often she wanted to use the plates for shooting practice, but then she didn’t own a gun and wouldn’t know how to use one if she had found one stashed somewhere.

If one wanted to find moral degeneracy, one should carefully listen to the voices in the pulpit, to those supposedly chosen by God to carry His message. Those voices often chose a theme and then backed it up with various out-of-context biblical verses. Then they followed up by asking for money. With these funds they paid themselves, built beautiful offices for their use, and sometimes sent themselves to other countries to tell others about their particular God. After telling these people about the right way to worship God, they then declared that refusing to worship this right way would bar them from heaven. This was the curse, the sin that could not be forgiven. Well, one of them anyway.

When Gretchen and Daniel danced closely, conversation and smiles almost stopped. Had it not been for the other officers and, of course, Bryan interjecting comments now and then, the two of them would have been lost for words. Gretchen knew she was personally somewhere out on a limb and didn’t understand what was happening. She had all sorts of excuses for her feelings of discomfort. Bryan was one; Daniel’s reaction to her background was another. His whining was four of them.

Daniel, on the other hand, was already too keenly informed about his feelings and was ferociously fighting them. His secret weapon was the power of positive thinking. He would get through this evening with Gretchen, and that would be the end of it. He knew whom he wanted to marry, had already conjured up his ideal person in his mind. Gretchen just didn’t fit into any of those patterns. Where did Gretchen fit? Why had this happened to him? Well, he knew it would not, could not, stay—for a thousand reasons. Still, he could enjoy tonight and know that at least once in his life he’d felt the most awesome feeling.

Daniel had called Gretchen multiple times before the hillbilly party to remind her that she was supposed to be dressed hillbilly fashion. He’d stated that he did not want to look like a hayseed all alone. Gretchen had sewn a white corduroy circular skirt and peasant blouse to match and had decorated both in a series of ridiculous rims of rickrack. Daniel wore a red-and-white-print shirt and a red-and-white handkerchief in still another print around his neck. He wore faded blue jeans rolled up to expose red-and-white-striped socks. The cutest thing about him was his smile and those sparkling blue eyes.

Step aside, Dan. I’m cutting in. It was Bryan.

Egad! Now you’re taking her. What a ridiculous way to have a date! Daniel beamed proudly.

Bryan took Gretchen’s arm, and as they continued the dance, he said, You have extraordinary eyes. What color are they exactly?

The same color as my hair, Gretchen replied with a grin.

I noticed. What color is your hair?

Hmmmm. Bronze? Gold?

Good enough, he said, until I come up with a better description.

Bryan was a dynamic dancer and loved dancing. He swept Gretchen over the floor. She didn’t want the dance to end. It felt glorious, like floating on air. She could delude herself into thinking she was a terrific dancer when she danced with Bryan because he was such a great lead. However, the dance ended, and Bryan graciously deposited her back with Daniel after giving her a rousing thank-you for sharing the dance with him.

Gretchen and Daniel mingled most of the night, sometimes straying from one another while chatting with others. Later Gretchen found herself alone with Daniel against the west wall of the officers’ club. Bryan Brimstone and Kirk Osmond, the third new lieutenant, were motioning for Gretchen and Daniel to follow them out a side door located on the north wall of the club. Daniel suggested they investigate and started to pull Gretchen along with him.

She resisted. What do they want? she asked, her sheltered religious and country demeanor showing. She didn’t know any of these lieutenants very well and was afraid. They might have a bottle of liquor to pass around, and then she’d have to stand there like a dummy and decline. She didn’t want to place herself in that position or have to watch while others made fools of themselves. Gretchen was only twenty years old and was unconditionally, unilaterally, and dramatically opposed to drunks, young or old, real or pretended. More than anything she was afraid.

I don’t know what they want, replied Daniel. Let’s go see.

Well, w-what are we going to do out there? Gretchen meekly stammered, hesitant, fear written on her face.

Make love! Daniel responded quickly and emphatically, looking directly down into Gretchen’s fearful face. He seemed serious, and she believed him.

He pulled on her arm again.

Gretchen pulled free of his grasp and muttered, I’d rather stay in here. You go, if you want. Then she wondered how in the world she was going to get herself out of this mess and back home tonight.

Hey, I was just kidding, Daniel said. Come on. You are not going to get raped.

That cinched it for Gretchen. If he had to explain and justify to that much detail, there had to be something fishy going on, and she was having no part of it. Looking back later, it was funny, but at the time she was indeed frightened.

He grabbed her hand again and kept repeating, Just come to the door, just to the door. In this way Gretchen allowed herself to be pulled along. At the north door she freed her hand from Daniel’s and peered through the doorframe into the outer darkness at Bryan and Kirk, who grinned mischievously, promoting more resistance in Gretchen. Everything looked safe, but she wasn’t feeling safe. She could not discern any exposed bottles, but she decided she was staying inside the door anyway. In reality, Gretchen would have loved to join Bryan and Kirk for conversation outside, but her fears of the unknown held her in check. Daniel gave her a tug and nodded outside, grinning widely as he did so.

No, she moaned as she pulled her hand away from his for the second or third time.

Major Downey, an officer from work whom Gretchen knew well and who had been watching the interaction between her and Daniel, walked up to the door and asked Gretchen if everything was okay and if she needed any help. Gretchen declined the help by shaking her head, uncharacteristically saying nothing to Major Downey. He read the circumstances, her face, and her mannerisms and stayed nearby.

Daniel explained, She’s scared we’re all going to pounce on her, so she won’t step outside. He was mainly addressing Bryan and Kirk but glanced at Major Downey. Assuming this announcement would put Gretchen at ease, he again reached for her hand.

No! Gretchen stated with a firmness that surprised her. She was quickly tiring of this charade.

Laughter, a lot of it, came from outside the north door. Kirk and Bryan had not realized they could appear so formidable. Kirk could not stop laughing and was doubled over. Bryan was amazed and amused at the same time. Daniel? Daniel was nonplussed, amused, and protective? Yes, protective too.

Gretchen turned, and Major Downey wrapped his arm about her shoulders. He led her to the dance floor where they began to dance. She realized she was perhaps overreacting but didn’t know how to stop herself and really didn’t care to. Then she hated the dependency she had on Daniel for a ride home. If she had her car, she would leave the party that minute since there was absolutely no reason to extend this farce. She was quite embarrassed and had no intention of explaining why to the mighty three lieutenants. She had lost control of the evening.

Soon Daniel, Bryan, and Kirk appeared beside Gretchen and Major Downey on the dance floor. All three, Daniel leading, apologized for frightening Gretchen. Daniel explained to Major Downey while Gretchen listened that this situation was his fault, that he had been blind to the fact that Gretchen did not know him well and did not know that all would be well. Major Downey seemed a bit amused but insisted that Daniel would answer to him if all were not well. Daniel saluted and responded, Understood, sir.

Daniel apologized to Gretchen again right there in the middle of the dance floor, while people danced all around them. He explained that they had merely wanted fresh air and conversation. It was smoky in the hall, so Gretchen believed the explanation but still did not go outside. It was 1961, but Gretchen was still living in 1954 or before and either could not or would not let go. This was one episode the three lieutenants would never allow her to forget. Bryan and Kirk stood by while Daniel explained and people continued dancing around them, encasing them together for better or for worse.

The lieutenants were still laughing and chuckling about the entire incident, and Gretchen now noticed that all three of the new lieutenants were nonsmokers. She liked that. She hated both the smell of cigarette smoke and the odorous breath that poured from smokers’ mouths. She also hated the burning sensation of smoke colliding with her eyes. When confronted by a smoker, Gretchen always tried to look beyond the cigarettes and into the person’s soul, but it wasn’t easy. Cigarettes and smoke would inevitably cloud her vision, and she found it difficult to get beyond the immediate presence of the cigarettes and into the heart of the smoker. So while the lieutenants apologized, she lamented the lack of fresh air she might have had outside the north door.

Except for that one frightening, embarrassing situation, the entire party turned out to be exemplary, actually one of the most enjoyable dates Gretchen had ever experienced. Perched high upon a heavenly cloud almost all evening, she had danced, talked, enjoyed, participated in lively rounds of sardonic humor, and laughed and laughed until it hurt. She was also secure in the opinion that Daniel had also experienced an exemplary evening. Their own personal Elysium had begun.

Suddenly and all too soon the officers’ club began emptying. Daniel lamented, Time to go home, I guess.

Bryan could not let the moment pass without comment. You guys be good on the way home, he jokingly instructed with a smirk and twinkling eyes. Gretchen thought, only momentarily, there may have been a hint of jealously. If there was, it disappeared as quickly as it streaked by, leaving one to wonder if Tinker Bell had just sprinkled some stardust. Fairy-tale stuff.

Although Gretchen felt that Bryan might be interested in her, he was not. He did like Gretchen, but he liked dancing more. A late bloomer, he had not yet discovered girls. He was more interested in developing a career than in exploring relationships. To Bryan dating was something that was required from time to time, but a relationship was not part of his immediate plan. He would not have felt that Gretchen was right for him anyway—wrong religion. He was Jewish; she was not. Question closed; no further exploration or explanation needed. Girls were handy when it came to dancing, and he usually tried to have one with him for that purpose.

Kirk, a part of the group for this evening, also could not let the moment pass and had to get his two cents in. Maybe we should follow them to make sure she gets home okay. Then he reeled with laughter, shaking his head in disbelief.

Funny for them—embarrassing for Gretchen. Instead of flattening their faces against a wall, she merely gave them a quasi grin with a look that said, Bug off. What she really wanted to do was send an armada into their faces.

It was indeed a riotous, raucous evening. Certainly Gretchen had had other great evenings, but this one was different. None were quite like this evening. And she had to admit, Bryan and his sense of humor had played a rather large role in her amusement.

Daniel retrieved Gretchen’s coat from the cloakroom and held it up for her. As she slipped her arms into the sleeves of the coat, her body was overcome with an eerie wave of feeling. It was weird to the point of rendering her motionless for a few seconds to absorb the impact. It was not painful and wasn’t like anything she had ever felt before. She looked around at Daniel, quizzically searching his face. His sparkling blue eyes had turned strangely soft, but his face revealed no readable clues.

As she searched his face, he said, A good night, thoughtfully, softly, embracing Gretchen’s body with his words.

Composure lost, she buttoned her coat, still bewildered by the wave of feeling. As they quietly walked to Daniel’s car, she kept glancing up at Daniel searching for clues, a reason for the strange experience. He didn’t appear to be ghostlike, godlike, magical, or devilish—just human. In the darkness, as she got into Daniel’s 1957 green Ford, the explanation hit her like a ton of bricks.

She was in love. With Daniel Danover. She didn’t know Daniel Danover! Who was he? Good grief, who was she? Did illusory situations like these really happen? Was this it for her? Maybe it would go away. Strange. Very strange. And what about Bryan? It never occurred to her to think about John Martin, her recently departed steady boyfriend who had told her to get lost. How dramatic, she thought, while still mentally questioning the enigma.

On the drive home Daniel and Gretchen were both unusually quiet. The hilarity was gone. Both were trying to assess their beleaguered feelings.

One looked for a special love forever, it seemed, and when it came, suddenly and without the slightest warning, it was bewildering. The old now that I’ve got it, what do I do with it? cliché came into play. Weren’t people supposed to grow into love? Gretchen’s religion and Daniel’s parents had separately taught them each this lesson.

Gretchen wanted to laugh to release the exhilaration of her spirits! She settled for a smile. She already felt enslaved enough to want to plead for a curative litany to be delivered immediately. She settled for a mild, silent God, help me.

Daniel wanted to cry. He had just spent a glorious evening with a woman he loved like no other. She was absolute perfection except for her background. She even sewed, as he’d discovered after inquiring where she had found her outfit. She was intelligent, beautiful, loved by all, charming, vivacious, and a perfect partner, and he loved her with every ounce of strength in his body. He knew the worst had happened: he belonged to Gretchen. No one, save for his parents, would ever know, because he would never date her again. If he could help it, he would never see her again. His resolve was total, reasoned, and irrevocable.

It was a long thirty-minute drive to Gretchen’s home, and Daniel said no more than cursory, politely defined, well-thought-out words that were supposed to be classified as conversation. He had come full circle from utter charming warmth to polite, cold conversation. He was ice.

Well, Gretchen thought, here I am in love with someone with whom I am to share a one and only, first and last date. How could this have happened? To me? How could I fall in love so totally with someone I don’t even know? Why, for God’s sake?

Daniel was unnervingly intense, quiet, and reserved, but then so was Gretchen. Both of them had changed in the twinkling of a eye and were concentrating on not caring, on not remembering what a wonderful time they had just shared, on not thinking of how cozy and warm it had felt to be together, how right.

Daniel left Gretchen at her porch door, which was now closed, with a simple Thanks for a great evening while he lightly held one of her hands. He opened the door to the porch of her house for her, then abruptly turned and left without another word, without a smile, leaving Gretchen the distinct conclusion, the sure knowledge, that she would not see him again.

Feeling that circumstances were now completely out of her control, Gretchen dropped to her knees in front of her bed and gave the problem to God. Okay, God, You have neatly disposed of John Martin. Okay. But now what do I do with this new situation? What does all this mean viewed from your broader spectrum? It’s up to you; you know that. As she prayed, she closed her eyes tightly, fighting back the tears. Then she crawled into bed, sighed, and thought, Oh well, now I know what it feels like to know you’ve met Mr. Wonderful. Drats! She was both happy and sad. She had met her prince. At least she had that.

Not true to his promise to himself, Daniel called Gretchen’s office one and a half weeks later, and Colonel Zelder, Gretchen’s boss, told him she was in the hospital. Colonel Zelder then called Gretchen at the hospital and told her, Your lieutenant called.

Her heart skipped a beat, then picked up its pace, pounding in her chest. Did he say what he wanted? she asked.

No, and I didn’t ask.

Oh, okay. Thanks for relaying the message.

Get well, Gretchen. We need you here.

2

Goldwood Hospital

A t work, during the week following the tumultuous hillbilly party at the officers’ club, Gretchen was overcome with terrifying, extensive, debilitating pain—pain that flooded her entire being, sucking, claiming the essence of her.

The pain appeared suddenly and left her incredulously incapable of speech so that she merely nodded or shook her head to the various questions Colonel Zelder and Mr. Ross asked. The pain seemed to insist she curl up on the floor of her office behind her desk, all decorum lost, stark terror in her eyes, face displaying the thought that death was imminent. This enormous, unchecked pain ripped through her body on a mission to destroy. Hell did not have a grander scheme to lay one low. It ripped her soul.

Gretchen’s boss, Colonel Zelder, frightened and dismayed, immediately ordered a car from the base fleet to drive her home. He wanted to send her to the nearest hospital, but Gretchen kept shaking her head, indicating that she wanted to go home, see her own doctor. On the ride home she helplessly regurgitated all over the backseat of the car. The crud of it was on and inside her purse, on the back of the front passenger seat, and puddled in a slimy heap on the backseat floorboard. It clung to Gretchen’s body, her feet, and shoes. The driver assured her that it was all right, but gazing at the mess surrounding her and on her, she didn’t feel assured. Almost immediately after throwing up she felt a bit better. Thinking it was something she ate and problem over, Gretchen opted to not see her doctor until the next day.

That night the pain returned and as soon as 8:00 am came around, Gretchen climbed into her car and made the drive to the doctor’s office. She had already called him the night before so that he was expecting her. She went in through the back door and fell onto the couch just inside. The pain had not ebbed, but continued to wrack her slim body without easement. Gretchen cried in the car on the way to the doctor’s office and cried as she waited for the doctor to see her. Seeing her discomfort, the nurses on duty sat with her until the doctor arrived from his early morning hospital rounds. She stopped crying at some point and began to moan with the pain, worrying all the employees at the doctor’s office plus any patients who were unfortunate enough to see her.

Dr. Black came and sat next to her on the sofa and began asking her questions; he had known her since she was a child of about six or seven. As she lay on the sofa, she felt that she had answered at least a million questions for Dr. Black. As far back as she could remember she had gastric discomfort now and then—pain, pain with which she lived, just like thousands of other healthy people, or so she assumed.

Her parents didn’t accept pain; for the most part it could be cured quite easily with hard work. Dr. Black’s questions and Gretchen’s corresponding answers added up to a nice round zero. He had the nurses help him get her into an examining room where Gretchen screamed when he touched any area except her legs, arms, and head. The doctor ordered her home just long enough to pack a bag and report to the hospital. A nurse gave her a lift in the doctor’s Oldsmobile. Before Gretchen got out of the car, the nurse asked if she had a way to the hospital. Gretchen murmured, Probably not. I left my car at the doctor’s office. The nurse nodded and said, I’ll wait and drive you.

It was Friday, and the sun was out. It was a beautiful day to not spend in the hospital. Gretchen could hear the birds chirping in the large oak tree that shaded their house. She wanted to sit in the makeshift swing and lull herself as she swayed back and forth. She wanted to sit there and think of Daniel as the birds flitted to the lawn and then back to the tree. Their dog, a mutt that looked like a golden retriever, would caringly, lovingly, protectively sit nearby, and she would feel safe and relaxed.

The dog’s name was Jonnie. As usual, she was a drop-off that some deviant soul had shoved from their car, caring naught whether the dog lived or died, just that