But when I saw her, I also saw a way forward. I’d spent months trying to find work, finding every door I knocked on remained closed. Something had to change.
I was going to master city life, just as I’d mastered every skill I’d ever needed on the farm. I still didn’t know how I was going to do it, but I had just decided where.
21
Lizzie
Huntsville, Alabama
1950
As I pushed open the door to the restaurant, I studiously avoided looking at the Whites Only sign hanging in the window. Ever since Sofie Rhodes mentioned those signs, I was keenly aware of them everywhere I went.
I was late again that day. I’d noticed that one of Henry’s shirts on the clothesline had stains on it, so I took it back inside to treat it with turpentine. Henry did his own laundry—one blessed habit he’d picked up in the Army—but advanced stains like paint were beyond his skill set. He didn’t like me to baby him, so even once I got the paint out, I had to quickly rewash the turpentine smell out of his shirt and hang it on the line so he didn’t notice I’d interfered.
It had been hard to motivate myself to shower, fix my hair, and put my makeup on after that. Some part of me always wanted to skip those lunches, but forcing myself to go had become an ingrained habit. Now my heels echoed against the tiles in the restaurant as I walked briskly to the table where the Fort Bliss women sat.
“We almost started without you!” Becca said lightly. I reached to smooth my hair and forced a smile.
“Sorry,” I said. “Busy day.”
I paused to hug her and Juanita, then Gail and even Avril. When it came to Avril, I was polite all of the time, warm when it suited me, and never trusting. I had learned that lesson the hard way, once upon a time.
The five of us swapped notes on the move—who was still unpacking, whose kids were enjoying the new school, who had the worst neighbors. And then Becca sighed happily.
“I’m so glad we all wound up here together after all,” she murmured, lowering her voice. “It feels like we moved from an emerging city to a dying small town.”
“My new neighbors are so excited that we’re here,” Gail said, smiling to herself. “One of them says Huntsville will one day be known as ‘rocket city.’ Maybe we’re arriving right at the start of something amazing.”
“And what does your new neighbor think about these Nazis?” Becca asked pointedly. Gail shrugged.
“She doesn’t seem too troubled that some of us are German. Besides, Trevor said that they aren’t actually Nazis. He said they just had ordinary government jobs in Germany. It’s not their fault the government happened to be run by the devil himself.”
“I just find that so hard to believe,” Becca said helplessly. She glanced at me. “Right from the beginning you said there was something rotten about the whole arrangement, didn’t you, Lizzie?” I’d never hidden my concern or displeasure at the program Calvin was working on, but as he’d requested, I never told anyone why. I tried to shrug noncommittally.
“You know what Bob told me once?” Juanita said suddenly. Everyone turned to look at her, and she leaned forward and whispered, “He said he heard rumors at Fort Bliss that some of those scientists really were in the Nazi party. He even heard that a few were in the SS.”
“There’s no way they’d have been brought to this country if that was true,” Gail said abruptly.
“I didn’t make that up, Gail,” Juanita said defensively. “One of the translators told an engineer and that engineer told Bob. He said that someone in our government falsified some of the German records so more men could come here.”
“You shouldn’t say things like that,” Gail snapped. “It’s just not fair. If those men had anything to do with what happened back there, they’d be rotting in a jail or executed at Nuremberg, not free on our streets.”
I dropped my gaze to the menu, wishing I could hide under the table. When a long moment passed and no one spoke, I looked up reluctantly, only to find the whole table staring at me.
“You know who’d know for sure?” Juanita said, watching me closely.
“Calvin,” Avril said.
“He wasn’t thrilled when they were first allowed to move freely around El Paso, was he?” Becca said, then helpfully reminded me, “It’s just I do recall you telling me he’d been arguing with Christopher Newsome when they were first let off base.”
I glanced quickly at Avril, reluctant to confirm any of this. Cal would not be pleased if his name were attached to these rumors, especially since there was potentially truth behind them. But I couldn’t figure out how to extract myself from the discussion without lying. Instead, I tried to redirect it.