My parents’ bedroom door was closed when I got out of bed the next morning, and I had a feeling Dad might not make it out of bed that day. I went out to use the washroom, but while I was there, I heard Dad and Henry shouting. I ran back to the house just as the bedroom door slammed again, and a defiant Henry stomped down the hall, joining Mother in the kitchen.

“What did you do, Henry?” Mother whispered, visibly upset. He raised his chin stubbornly.

“You’ll see,” he told us both. “Everything will turn around next season. That money is going to save us.”

Maybe Daddy was worn down by the dry and the hopelessness, or maybe he knew Henry had ultimately done the right thing, because as much as he grumbled, Daddy didn’t even try to give that money back to the judge.

9

Lizzie

Huntsville, Alabama
1950

As I’d driven to the party, my intention was to seek Calvin out and apologize. I had a perfectly good excuse for my tardiness. This wasn’t the first time my car had needed some cajoling.

But as I approached Cal, I heard snippets of the conversation around him. These men were speaking English, but much of it was heavily accented. Henry’s taunt about my new “Nazi friends” rang in my ear, and I felt a shock of outrage.

No.

It just was not right for these people to be mingling with the rest of us, enjoying the sunshine on their faces, sipping champagne, and laughing so freely.

I spun on my heel and made a beeline toward more familiar faces. My friends Becca, Juanita, and Gail were there with a handful of other women. Avril Walters was there too, talking quietly with a woman I didn’t know—a woman with auburn hair and a milky, clear complexion I couldn’t help but be jealous of. Was this new woman German? I looked between the groups and quickly decided she must be the wife of one of the new American scientists. Calvin’s team had expanded so quickly, it was hard to keep up.

“You look like you need a drink,” Becca said, and she picked up a champagne flute from the table and handed it to me.

“Thanks,” I muttered. I downed the glass, then glanced toward the German women. I dropped my voice. “I just cannot believe this. We’re supposed to just mingle with them like we don’t know where they’re from?”

“No need to whisper, honey,” Becca laughed gently. “It seems none of those women speak a word of English. But Mr. Newsome still wants us all to invite them for coffee to help them settle in.”

I looked at her in disbelief.

“Are you going to?”