Coming Home

By Clev Curtiss

Clarissa Louise Whitehead fell victim to the overwhelming desire that so many others like her before suffered from, which is to be a star--a rare feat indeed. But she had looks and she had brains, and nothing was going to stop her. She would have to leave behind the safety and security of friends and family to achieve this goal and travel to a faraway land called Hollywood. However, fame and fortune would come with a price. In her quest for stardom, a menacing danger would manifest itself, stalking her, watching her just out of reach. She could feel the danger like a specter peering out from a dark place. However, this menace would learn just how tough she was. Clarissa's star burned brightly if only for a short time. She touched and changed many lives in her search for the Hollywood of the past, and the reward for the reader will be learning about her journey.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Page Publishing, Inc.
• Release date: Sep 19, 2023
• ISBN: 9798889605492

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Coming Home

Clev Curtiss

Copyright © 2023 Clev Curtiss

All rights reserved

First Edition

PAGE PUBLISHING

Conneaut Lake, PA

First originally published by Page Publishing 2023

The Whitehead Home pen and ink drawing (Chapter 16) by Joni Henry Noble, MFA, PH.D.

ISBN 979-8-88960-534-8 (pbk)

ISBN 979-8-88960-549-2 (digital)

Printed in the United States of America

Table of Contents

Dedicated to Phyllis Wofford, for her undying inspiration and love for Clare.

Chapter 1

Leaving

Chapter 2

Arrival

Chapter 3

Moving In

Chapter 4

The Burglar

Chapter 5

Back to School

Chapter 6

The Audition

Chapter 7

The Party

Chapter 8

The Move

Chapter 9

Murder, Nazis, and the Role

Chapter 10

Discovery

Chapter 11

Spain in All Its Splendor

Chapter 12

Devastation

Chapter 13

Touching Evil

Chapter 14

Taking the Job

Chapter 15

The Investigation

Chapter 16

Epiphany

Chapter 17

Meeting Carly

Chapter 18

San Diego and Winnemucca

Chapter 19

Enter LAPD

Chapter 20

Carly Returns

About the Author

Dedicated to Phyllis Wofford,

for her undying inspiration and love for Clare.

Chapter 1

Leaving

Clarissa stared out the large plate glass window next to her desk as the rain fell onto Washington Street in front of the dealership. She would daydream on days like this, letting her mind go to all kinds of magical places. There had to be more than doing math in the accounting department of Stevens Chevrolet for the rest of her life. She was good at what she was hired to do, making sure the mechanic's hours were tabulated correctly. Since she had started work, there had been no errors. Loose ends bothered her.

She couldn't help wondering what was out there beyond the state line of Louisiana. California was the place, that magic place, sun, beaches, the movie industry, fame, fortune, a future. A glorious future, one she had longed for all her life. She knew she could do it, be a star that is. She had only acted in school plays, no professional training here or anywhere else. Clare, as she preferred, had only been as far west -as Dallas when she and her family went to Six Flags one summer when she was ten years old. That was just before the accident in the yard.

Have you finished your invoices? a voice sounded to her left.

Yes, ma'am, came the reply. The voice belonged to Miss Earlene, a stern woman in her fifties, slim and somewhat attractive, who had worked at the dealership for twenty-eight years. Clare liked Miss Earlene but thought she was too dictatorial at times. However, a woman the same age as her mother had to be obeyed.

It was just before noon when the rain started letting up. You 'bout ready? her friend Patty asked from the desk behind Clare's. Both had been friends since grade school and had worked at the dealership for a year and a half. 1972 was a big year. Both had graduated that year, and both were hired that spring. It was now late July '74 and Clare wanted more, a lot more.

Miss Earlene gave an approving nod, and both girls were off. The rain had stopped, and the block-and-a-half walk to Perkin's Eat-a-Bite was pleasant. The rain helped dampen the odor from the paper mill, but the smell of rotten eggs hung heavy in the air. Bast was a relatively small town in northeast Louisiana, and Clare had grown up in an even smaller town twenty-five miles away. During high school, both girls would ride around on Saturday nights in Clare's father's Cutlass listening to WLS out of Chicago on the car's AM radio. The powerful, clear channel station was heard in thirty-eight states after sundown. Patty would fantasize about the DJ, John Records Landecker, and wonder what a date with him would be like.

Most young girls were expected to marry, have babies, go to church, and be a servant to their husbands who worked at the local paper mill, and oh yes, be happy. Patty Johns did exactly that. Patty fit the mold perfectly; she even seemed genuinely happy. Patty and her husband, Joe, married right out of high school and soon after moved into a rented trailer just down the road from Joe's parents' house. Patty said Joe didn't want a baby until they moved into a real house in a couple of years. With a maiden name of Duke, Patty got kidded a lot in school even from teachers.

Clare never mentioned to Patty that Joe had asked her out back in high school and would even make subtle passes now and again. Clare kept a lot in. She didn't dare tell anyone of her aspirations, not even Patty. She felt it better to kept it to herself…at least for now. The passing cars splashed through the rain-soaked street as Clare and Patty walked south toward Perkin's Eat-a-Bite.

Think I'll get the fried chicken with rice and gravy, Patty said emphatically.

Haven't made up my mind yet, stated Clare as she moved closer to the brick wall of Roman's jewelry store to avoid getting splashed. Patty's wedding ring came from Roman's; she never took it off. Patty was a brunette with stylish curls in the front. Permanently tanned skin matched her brown eyes. Joe likes me to stay tanned, she would remark. Patty wore modern prescription frames that fit her well. When Clare would sleep over at Patty's when the girls were little, Patty would always lie right in front of the TV, inches from it with her elbows on the floor while supporting her head with her two hands. On Sunday nights, the girls' favorite show was Flipper. Being five feet and nine inches, Clare was a full two inches taller than her nearsighted friend with straight blond hair that parted in the middle and cascaded down onto her shoulders, where it rested comfortably. Her hair moved slightly with the breeze as she walked toward the café. Although she would never fit the definition of criminally beautiful as Grace Kelly was once described, Clare could certainly hold her own in any beauty contest. Clare would receive at least one or two comments a day on her light-blue eyes.

As they approached the glass door to Perkin's Eat-A Bit, Clare remarked, Let's get a booth today.

If there's one available, Patty said. The girls found a booth and settled in.

A fortyish woman reached for a pencil perched atop one ear as she strode up to the booth. The usual, hun? She looked down at Patty as the pencil lead touched the pad.

Think I'll go with the chicken and rice today, Patty stated excitedly as if she had just given the correct answer in math class.

The same for you, hun?

No, I'll have the meat loaf, mashed potatoes, and mixed vegetables.

Sure thing, came the response as the waitress turned and headed toward the kitchen. The waitress already knew the girls wanted iced tea with lemon and a straw.

Joe's having a party Saturday. Think you can make it?

Not sure right now, Clare responded. Clare knew Joe and his buddies liked to drink, and she didn't want to be anywhere near Joe when he was drinking; he liked to touch and feel too much. Clare knew she had a nice figure from all the attention in high school and now at work.

C'mon, it'll be fun. Todd's goin to barbecue a pig they had left over from the fourth, then we're all goin' to jump in Brad's parents' station wagon—we can ride in the back with the glass down. Both Todd and Brad were Joe's hunting pals from high school.

We'll see, stated Clare. You know I have to help Momma with Carly, the bath and all.

Carly was Clare's sister, a year and a half younger and needed special attention. She had been struck by a flying jenny in their yard ten years earlier. Doctors said she would be brain damaged for the rest of her life. What's for dessert today? Patty asked.

Hot apple pie with vanilla ice cream on top, droned the waitress.

Okay, I'll have that. You want any? Patty asked.

No, responded Clare, I'm full.

Louisiana's humidity hung heavy as the girls walked back to the dealership. Clare popped a stick of Dentyne in her mouth on the way back. As Clare walked inside, she discovered a note resting underneath a small green Coke bottle on her desk. It read, Never leave Coke bottles on the desk! It was from Miss Earlene. Oh, boy, I'm going to hear about this, Clare said with dread in her voice.

That ole woman, she needs a man to bang her one time really good, stated Patty. They both snickered.

That afternoon, Clare clocked out at five sharp; it was Friday. Clare had to walk through the service department to reach the back lot where the employees parked. Albert, a salesman, asked how she liked her new Vega. The Chevy Vega was named Car of the Year by Motor Trend Magazine in 1971.

I like it—it gets good gas mileage.

You know you got the last green one we had on the lot.

That's what Mr. Stevens said when I decided to buy it. Green's my favorite color.

The 75s should start arriving next week, Albert remarked. The salesman walked with Clare until she reached her car, making small talk along the way. As Clare opened the car door, the strong new car smell permeated her nostrils; she loved that smell. Clare bent down and slid behind the wheel, placing her white patent leather purse onto the passenger's side at the same time, the purse matching her shoes and belt. We're goin' to the Dynasty tonight if you'd like to go.

I'm sorry, I have to stop at the store for my mother on the way home, Clare quickly responded, knowing what the question was going to be. She had come to expect clumsy advances from the salesmen, both married and single. He was at least fifteen years older and was supposed to be either separated or divorced or something; he even had kids. Clare actually preferred older men but not ones that were married; it was a complete turnoff. Maybe some other time. Clare didn't drink and only occasionally felt like dancing. The Dynasty was a pickup joint mainly for the older crowd around Monroe.

Okay, beautiful, came his response. He stood and watched as she drove away. Clare was sticky from the humidity and quickly turned on the air-conditioner.

Clare drove to the bank and deposited half of her $62 paycheck in the bank and spent most of the other half at Piggly-Wiggly. Clare picked up the usual, bread, milk, a six-pack of Coke, and mayonnaise for Carly, which rhymed with Charlie, to make mayonnaise sandwiches. The drive home took about twenty-five minutes and gave her time to think as Seasons in the Sun played out of the single speaker in the center of the dash. She had one of the rare Vegas with FM radio; she kept it tuned to FM 102. I'll say I have a date—that should get me out of the party, but with whom? Maybe I'll call Kim and see if she wants to go see Blazing Saddles. I heard it was funny. Kim Philpot was a year older and was Clare's friend from college. Clare didn't have a current boyfriend even though several had tried. On the few dates she had, they would usually take her back to their place and try to go too far. She was saving herself, saving herself for a husband. What Clare really wanted was to stay home Saturday night, do some ironing, and watch Mary Tyler Moore.

Her mother had supper waiting, and afterward, Clare helped clean up the kitchen and wash the dishes. Always start with the glasses first, her mother would say. They're the cleanest.

How did Carly do today? Clare asked her mother.

"About the same—she likes Ivanhoe even though she knows it by heart." Reading books to Carly, who was now eighteen, was a full-time job. Carly spent her days prone on the bed or sofa while wearing a diaper and eating baby food. She could walk but not very well. Things wouldn't get much better, they were told. It was Clare who had jumped off the flying jenny while it was still spinning and struck Carly in the head as the board swung around. Flying jennies were fun; it was like a seesaw, but the board also spun round in a circle like a helicopter blade. The guilt only seemed to worsen with time. Clare felt it was aging her, aging her much too fast.

No one in the family blamed Clare for the accident; it was just one of those things. Bad things happen to good people and good families. It didn't help Clare, though. She knew she would take the guilt to her grave.

On Saturday morning, Clare phoned Patty to tell her she was going to stay home and help Carly. It wasn't a lie; however, Patty didn't answer. Joe did. Hey, sweet thing, so when are we going to get together?

You forgot you're married?

Big deal.

It's a big deal to me.

When are you gonna loosen up?

Don't know, but it won't be today. Is Patty there?

She left to get charcoal and beer.

Tell her I can't make it tonight with Carly and all.

There's a guy I wanted you to meet. He's Brad's cousin from Pine Bluff. He's got a Corvette and is really cool.

Maybe another time. Thanks anyway.

I've been bragging about you—told him you were hot.

I can't.

There's plenty of women who would like to hook up with this guy.

Why don't you call 'em?

I just might do that!

Clare was relieved. Charles and Abigail Whitehead were simple folk. Charlie had recently retired from the railroad after thirty years as an engineer. He had suffered a mild heart attack two years before retirement, eight years prior; a young mother of three failed to yield at a crossing and was killed. Clare's father was at the controls. Fortunately, she was alone in the car. The look of surprise and horror on her face just before impact gave Charlie Whitehead nightmares and symptoms of mental stress he would never fully understand. Three packs a day of Camel cigarettes didn't help. It was a God-fearing household even though no one went to church regularly. A hearing infection as a child kept Charlie out of WWII. Hearing aids only helped a little. Saturdays around the Whitehead household were fairly busy. Clare's father would cut the grass, while her mother would do laundry and go uptown to the Chinaman's for groceries.

The Gees were a hardworking, patriotic Chinese family who started their small grocery store in 1949 in the village of Bolling. In 1968, their only son, Robert, was drafted in the Army before the ink was dry on his high school diploma. After boot camp, he was shipped off to Vietnam, where he was killed on his second day in country. Robert Gee was buried in the village cemetery less than a mile from his parents' store. One month later, a gravestone arrived bearing his name with a purple heart medal engraved above it. An American flag decal remained on the glass door of the Gees' grocery today.

That night, Clare sat on a small padded bench in front of her round dresser mirror with ten forty-watt bulbs encircling it that her father had made for her. Who am I? she would ask herself as the image in the mirror looked back at her. Why do I want to leave? I'm needed here. My sister needs me. I can't desert her, not now. A box fan in a nearby window purred quietly, pulling in the cool night air. The Whitehead house was a large wooden two-story that fronted a two-lane highway running north and south. The family occupied the downstairs while leaving two large bedrooms upstairs vacant. It had been built in the year 1856 before the Civil War when cotton fields surrounded the town and were handpicked by slaves. Clare's father bought the house in 1954, the same year she was born. The house was surrounded on the south and west sides by black wrought-iron fencing, which was installed around 1900. A large steel chain was attached to the front gate with a weighted ballast in the center of the chain to automatically swing the gate closed whenever it was opened. The north and east sides had no barriers; they were adjacent to the city block, which the Whitehead family owned, and was part of the large yard that included a high swing set made of iron pipe, a small shed, various trees, and a metal pole where a flying jenny once revolved. Clare's father had installed the flying jenny the first summer they moved in. It was a present to his children. By 1960, flying jennies were outlawed. The four large oaks in the yard were home to an abundance of cicadas that would begin their serenade every evening just after sunset. The ear-piercing cacophony would last almost until dark.

It was the only home Clare and her sister, Carly, had ever known. When Clare was little, she would climb the stairs up to the second floor and peer out the windows to the sidewalk below, which ran in front of the house. She loved to explore its attic and hidden closets. When she was nine or ten, while climbing the stairs, she felt an odd sensation. It was the sensation of something looking at her, watching her every move. She could feel eyes staring at her just like one can feel the rays of the sun on their skin. It was unmistakable. It became so bad that when she would climb halfway up the stairs, she would then run as fast as she could and dart into the bedroom on the left so that whatever it was wouldn't have time to look at her. Once inside the bedroom, she didn't feel the eyes watching her.

Whatever it was, whoever it was, lived in the attic. It would peer out of the darkness at her between the horizontal spaces of the boards, which formed the walls. One day, when she and Carly were alone in the house while her mother ran up to the Chinaman's store for something, Clare decided to ride Carly's tricycle that was in the hallway next to the stairs. With her legs rising above the handlebars, Clare would peddle fast and then turn quickly, causing the tricycle to fishtail. She would ride back and forth on the tricycle, up and down the hallway, fishtailing every time. One day, when she was on the tricycle, she looked down and saw the black marks from the hard rubber tires on the tile floor. She knew her father would be mad. It was then she felt the eyes on her. It was coming from above. As she looked up, she could feel them coming from the area where the banister came in contact with the first-floor ceiling. Whatever it was had moved out of the attic, down the stairs, and was now peering down at her.

Oddly, she wasn't afraid; she had never been afraid of it. She had always felt that it was a male spirit, and on rare occasions, it would attempt to communicate with her with one or two loud steps on the stairs. No ghostly apparition appeared, just a rare step or two on the old wooden steps of the staircase. When she got older and would venture upstairs, the feeling wasn't there for some reason. She didn't know if it left or just departed to the afterlife. There were people still living in Bolling who remember the original owner, Mr. Montgomery, and the fact that he died in the old house in the early 1920s.

Clare went to bed shortly after The Star-Spangled Banner on TV Saturday night. Her friend Kim had made other plans but said she would go see Blazing Saddles with her another time. As she lay in bed, Clare's mind was on the problem at hand. What to tell her parents when she was ready to leave? She had already written to a distant cousin in San Diego about staying with her briefly while she found a job and a place to live.

The drive out, she figured, would take about two days with the speed limit set nationally at fifty-five. Clare enjoyed driving; the Vega already had two thousand miles on it and was only four months old. Clare would wash the Vega every weekend. In a year and a half, Clare managed to save $2,000. The Vega's car note was $128 per month for the next forty-four months. She was always good with money and finances. The Vega should easily make it across Texas, she figured. It would still be difficult to leave. She would say it was a vacation to visit the cousin she'd never seen. Sleep came; she slowly drifted off. The spirit never came downstairs as far as she knew.

Monday morning, August 8, brought the same old paperwork with smudges from the mechanic's greasy fingers. Patty was quiet. For some reason, she was wearing bell-bottom slacks instead of a dress, which Miss Earlene stipulated. Hope she's not mad, Clare thought as she turned her swivel chair around to face her. How'd things go this weekend with the party and all?

Not very good, Patty remarked as she reached down to get the Pepsi-Cola bottle off the floor for a sip. Todd showed up without a pig, so we had to go out and buy some barbecued chicken and more beer. By the time we got around to supper, Joe and Todd were drunk. Brad couldn't make it, but his cousin from Pine Bluff did, and boy, was he a jerk. He had the nerve to insinuate I was fat.

What did Joe do?

Nothing, he just sat there on the tailgate of his truck drinking with the radio blaring. Then Todd left, and Jerry, the jerk from Pine Bluff, had the nerve to ask me if I wanted to go for a ride in the Corvette with the top down.

Did you?

Hell, no! I went inside and watched Carol Burnett until Joe came staggering in and passed out on the bed. Sunday morning I went out and picked up the trash in the yard they left.

Clare didn't say anything; she felt sorry for Patty. She almost started to tell Patty about the times Joe hit on her but felt the time wasn't right.

By Thursday night, Clare had made up her mind. Her mother was in the den with Carly, and her father was out in the yard when Clare walked in and told her mother about her intentions to go to California.

This seems awful sudden, her mother said. Have you given this some thought? Clare's mother knew her daughter was smart, levelheaded, and could be, at times, very shrewd. She felt there was more to it than just a vacation, but then the president came on TV. It was 8:00 p.m. Clare, her mother, and the rest of the nation watched as Richard M. Nixon resigned from office.

Clare's father came in, and they all watched in silence as the president spoke for sixteen minutes; it was the eighth of August. Well, that's no big surprise, Clare's father quipped. I felt it was coming.

Daddy, I'm going to go to California. I want to visit Lynette.

Lynette?

Yes, I thought now would be a good time to go. It's only for a few months. I'll be back before New Year's.

Why so long?

I just want to look around, see the sights. I don't want to be rushed.

What brought this on?

I've been thinking about it for some time now. I want to travel a bit before I end up like Patty.

Patty?

Patty's whole future has been mapped out for her.

What's wrong with that?

She just wants to see the world, Charlie, Clare's mother remarked.

Thought that's what television was for.

It's not the same.

I've got plenty of time to get married when I get back.

Dickey Winters?

No, he only took me to the prom. He joined the Air Force after he got in trouble.

There's not a lot for a young person to do around here, Clare's mother added. I think it'll be all right.

You planning on driving out?

Yes, I'll need a car when I get there. I've already spoken to Lynette. She said it will be fine.

You think they'll hire you back at the dealership?

Oh yes, Miss Earlene said I could have it back when I returned—that is, if they haven't hired anybody as good as me. That was a lie; Clare had not spoken to Miss Earlene about this.

I see, her father exclaimed. Not much was said for a while; it had to sink in. Carly was trying to speak; she could only make sounds. Clare felt she was trying to tell her not to go. Clare put her arm around Carly as they watched TV in silence. Clare couldn't stand the thought of hurting Carly. Not again.

That night, Clare helped Carly down the hall to her bedroom, the same hallway where Clare had felt the spirit looking at her years earlier. It was the practice that someone would usually set up with Carly and either read to her or watch the small black-and-white Sony TV on the nightstand against the wall. The TV was originally a gift to Clare for graduation, but she felt it was better that Carly have it. Tonight, they would be reading Drama in Real Life from Reader's Digest. Carly seemed to enjoy these tales. Nearing the end of the story, Clare noticed Carly's eyes were closed. As she sat there, Clare began to second-guess herself. Her conscience was bothering her, gnawing at her, telling her not to go and leave Carly. It'll only be for a short while, she kept telling herself. Things will be all right.

Tuesday morning, Clare grabbed the cardboard time card with her name written in at the top and slid it into the narrow horizontal slot of the time clock. After a loud clunk, she returned the card to its original place in the metal tray, which hung vertically beside the time clock. The time was 7:59 a.m. Patty was nowhere in sight. The salesmen didn't start arriving until 8:30 a.m. or so, which meant she didn't have to fend anyone off. Miss Earlene was dressed smartly as usual. Louise Masson made up the fourth person in the accounting department. Louise was in her mid-thirties, divorced and attending college part-time trying to earn a degree in business management. She was raising two daughters. God, Clare thought, I don't want to end up like that. On Tuesday mornings, Louise would clock in with Clare. The two made small talk about the president and Watergate. Clare grabbed her stack of invoices and headed for her desk. As she settled in, she glanced out the large window, looking for any sign of Patty. Did Patty call in this morning? she asked as Miss Earlene shook her head without looking up. Since Patty lived a lot closer to work than Clare, she could always count on seeing Patty's Nova in the parking lot before her. At 10:00 a.m., Clare walked to the Coke machine in the parts department, which was adjacent to the garage. After placing a quarter in the machine, she opened the slender glass door and pulled a Coke bottle out by the neck. After opening it, Clare walked out to see if she could see Patty's car. On her way back inside, she saw Albert at the other end of the garage making a deal with a customer over a pickup truck. Clare was relieved when he failed to notice her.

When she returned to her desk, Clare decided to call Patty's house. As she waited, listening to it ring, she slid open the middle drawer on the right side of her desk and placed the Coke bottle inside it for easy reach. There was no answer. She let it ring nine times. Something's wrong, she thought. She was here yesterday and seemed okay. At noon, Clare clocked out and headed to her car; she was going to drive to Patty's house. Just then, Patty drove up, not in her Nova but in her mother's car. Where have you been! Clare exclaimed.

We had a fight.

So what happened?

Joe took a hammer and busted out all the glass in my car. It had to be towed to Winters Trim.

When did this happen?

Last night.

What brought that on?

I told Joe I was pregnant.

You're pregnant!

Yep.

How long have you known?

About a week.

Why would that make him mad?

He accused me of having sex with someone else.

Have you?

What do you think? It's true we haven't had sex in a while—he said he was tired from working graveyard. If you want to know the truth, I think he's the one having sex with somebody else. In fact, I'm sure of it.

Really?

Sometimes the phone will ring, and when I answer it, they hang up.

That is suspicious.

Anyway, I need to go in and talk to Miss Earlene.

She should still be there. I'm going to Johnny's for a hamburger and fries. I'll be back shortly.

As Clare drove, she tried to take the news in. She was planning on eating the hamburger at Johnny's Café in the usual corner booth, but today she would head back before Patty left the dealership. When Clare returned, she found Patty sitting in the car smoking a cigarette. When did you take that up?

This past weekend.

Why? You know it's harmful, especially if you're pregnant!

I heard it helps you lose weight.

You can go for walks if you want to lose weight!

They calm me down.

Well anyway, did you see Miss Earlene?

Yeah, she told me I had to see Mr. Stevens when he gets back from lunch. Clare got in on the passenger's side of Patty's car to have her lunch. There's more to it. Joe wants me to get an abortion.

And you don't?

No.

He wants me to go over to Jackson and have it done. That's what the fight was about last night. He just doesn't want the responsibility of a baby, that's all.

Does your mother know?

Yeah, I told her last night.

What does she think?

She wants me to be happy.

So in other words, she's on your side in this.

Yeah.

What did your daddy say?

Momma going to tell him today. He'll be on my side too.

Well, I'm going back in—it's hot out here.

Okay, I'll see you later.

Later, as Clare bent down to open a file drawer, she noticed Patty coming from Mr. Steven's office. The girls met at the counter with their elbows resting on it, facing each other. He said I still have a job but that I shouldn't make a habit of it, missing work without calling in, that is.

So I guess I'll see you tomorrow.

I'll be here.

If you need anything, call me.

Thanks, I don't know what I'd do without you.

Me either.

Clare dreaded the thought of giving notice Friday. She knew she was a good worker and knew Miss Earlene wouldn't like it. Things are going to be okay, she told herself. It'll work. It has to. Clare told Patty about the move to California Thursday night after work when she was invited to supper at Patty's parents' house. Patty frowned heavily and asked a hundred questions, Clare thought. The news completely overshadowed Patty's pregnancy and broken car windows. Patty's mother, Carolyn, asked Clare if she had thought things out thoroughly. Yes, ma'am, Clare stated, I've been working on this since last year.

Sounds like you're pretty determined, Mrs. Duke responded, and you say it's just temporary?

Yes, ma'am, just to see how I like it, and if I don't, then I'll be back in a few months.

What about your sister?

Momma's friend Mrs. Tompkins is going to help out. She said she's looking for something to do now that her husband is gone.

I forgot he died, Mrs. Duke replied. Thirty-two years is a long time to work at that mill. He was there when that young boy got his arm caught in that paper machine, wasn't he?

Yeah, he was standing nearby. He helped hold the boy up so they could stop the paper rolling machine.

It's a shame that boy lost his arm like that. He'd only been there a year or so, hadn't he?

Yes, ma'am, he started right out of high school.

I worry about Joe working in there, Mrs. Duke stated, but they do earn a good living, though.

You ought to get a feller and settle down like Patty, stated Mr. Duke as he was getting up from the table. There's a bunch of 'em out there just waitin' to get their hands on you.

They'll have to wait a little longer, Clare remarked as she finished drinking her iced tea.

What I want to know is why you've kept this a secret for so long? Patty asked.

I wasn't sure I was even going to go through with it. I had to get things in order. As the girls walked outside to Clare's car, Patty started to cry. Clare put her arms around Patty's shoulders. I'll be back by Christmas—that's only four months away. That didn't help Patty; she didn't want to lose her best friend. After a while, the girls said their goodbyes, and Clare drove home.

Carly's been asking for you, her