Read Louise's War for Free Online

During the week it wasn’t difficult to intercept the mail. It came on the dot of ten o’clock in the morning, when everyone else was at work and Phoebe and Dellaphine were busy around the house. Ada worked afternoons and evenings so she was free to linger around the front door until the mail dropped through the slot. She’d quickly riffle through the envelopes before depositing the stack on the hall table. Sometimes Phoebe, hearing the mail drop, would rush to see if she had a letter from one of her sons, and wait impatiently until Ada was through.
    Ada had told him never to write her again, never ever, and he hadn’t so far, but every day she lived in terror that a letter bearing a foreign stamp addressed to her would arrive before she could hide it from the others in the boarding house. She endured a recurring nightmare that Phoebe, or Louise, or worse of all, Henry, got to the mail before her, and asked her why she received a letter with a return address in German.
    Ada checked her watch. It was still too early. She crossed Pennsylvania and stopped at a cafe to look at the menu posted in the window. Tonight diners could choose from either fried chicken or liver and onions, with mashed potatoes and peas, and fruit salad, iced tea or hot coffee. A few people queued outside, waiting for the cafe to open.
    On Saturday mail delivery was sporadic. It came any time in the afternoon when her fellow roomers tended to be in the house. She’d missed it many times, but so far her luck held. That didn’t stop her from trying to get to it first whenever she could.
    Ada cut through the block by way of a vacant lot and an alley and found herself across the street from her boarding house. Henry was out in front, his suspenders hanging down his sides, flipping through the mail. She was too late. He saw her, and raised his hand.
    Head swimming with apprehension, she crossed the street.
    ‘You need to look before you cross the street, young lady,’ Henry said. ‘You could get hit by one of these jalopies, people drive too damn fast these days.’
    ‘Anything for me?’ she asked.
    ‘Nope,’ he said. ‘Not today.’
    I didn’t mention Holman’s death to anyone. I didn’t want to talk about it yet.
    Ada returned from Jelleff’s, thrilled with Marlene Dietrich’s autograph. ‘Miss Dietrich was so elegant,’ Ada said, ‘and so sweet. Sort of reserved, though, and not as tall as I thought she’d be.’ She paused. ‘Are you all right, dearie? You’re awfully quiet.’
    ‘Just tired and hot,’ I said.
    After dinner I skipped The Grand Ole Opry , pleading a headache. Upstairs in my room I stretched out on my bed to read my Christie novel, but found a few pages after I started that I hadn’t comprehended any of it. I’d have to start over again. Instead I gave up and closed the book, tossing it onto my bedside table. The brass bookmark flew out from between its pages and slammed into the cold-water pipe that led to the sink in the attic. The bookmark was a thick, heavy rectangle I received as a prize for reading the most books in the sixth grade, and I must have flung the book, and the bookmark, rather hard, because the clang of brass against iron pipe resounded like a bell ringing. I hopped off the bed and retrieved the bookmark and stuck it back between the pages of my book. A minute later, I heard the echo of object on pipe sound above me, three taps, equally spaced, like Morse code. Someone in the bedroom upstairs was responding to me, striking the pipe with a metal object. Had to be Joe, Henry would never do such a thing.
    I was mortified. Could Joe be thinking I’d signaled him intentionally? Please, no! What would he think of me, that I was flirting with him? I lay back on my bed, a pillow over my face to hide the heat of embarrassment surging into my face, even though no one else was in the room.
    Don’t answer back, I instructed myself firmly. If you don’t respond, he’ll know it wasn’t intentional. A few