Next to him, an older woman-wearing practical walking shoes, a decidedly non-New Look dress, and a mink stole wrapped around her shoulders-pulled on her fingers nervously. A worried expression creased her forehead.
Struggling with my emotions, I glanced at the cane and then back into Joe’s eyes. At last, I lifted my chin and strode forward purposely. “Joe,” I said, professional yet friendly. “This is a surprise. How good to see you.”
“Grace.” He drew out the syllable like it was wine being poured into a goblet.
“What are you doing here?” I asked, all good cheer.
“My mom and I have come to look at NYU and Columbia. I need to finish law school. My parents would like me to be closer to Chicago-”
“We’re in New York to see you,” the woman, who had to be his mother, interrupted.
I absorbed that, and then asked Joe in my most chipper tone, “How did you know where to find me?”
“It’s a cinch Winchell knows!” he answered, reciting the popular tagline.
That told me he’d read about Mario and all the others, and yet here Joe was on the sidewalk in front of the China Doll. The stage-door Johnnies edged closer.
“I’d like you to meet my mother.” Joe gestured to the woman beside him. “Mom, this is Grace. Grace, this is my mom.”
“Mrs. Mitchell.” I extended my hand.
“Call me Betty.” Instead of shaking my hand, she held it in both of hers. “I came with my boy, because I wanted to make sure he didn’t turn chicken. He’s got all sorts of medals now-the Bronze Star, the Air Medal, and a Purple Heart,” she recited proudly. “But he’s always been a bit of a scaredy-cat when it comes to girls.”
“Mom.” Joe stared at his shoes. I felt for him, because no one can embarrass you more than your own mother. Despite my best efforts to protect myself, I could feel my defenses crumbling and my heart opening.
“Are you set now, Son?” Mrs. Mitchell asked. When he nodded, she returned her gaze to me and squeezed my hand. The message couldn’t have been clearer. Don’t hurt my boy. Then she embraced Joe. “I’ll see you back at the hotel.”
After she left, we stood silently, searching each other’s faces. His was wan-from lingering pain? From months as an invalid? His eyes looked as though they’d seen too much. I wondered what changes he saw in me. Finally, I said, “Let’s go somewhere we can talk without all the ears.” I cocked my head to the stage-door Johnnies, but I was actually fretting that Ruby would emerge from the club any second.
Joe and I walked, slowly, slowly, because of his limp. He had always seemed invincible, but to me he felt almost ghostlike. It hurt me to see him so frail. We found an all-night diner and slid into a booth. The waitress served us coffee. He pushed his cup back and forth in front of him nervously. I fought to regain my resolve: I can’t help him. He dumped me.
“No reason to make this long,” he began, his voice slower and more deliberate than I remembered.
“Take as much time as you’d like,” I said.
He didn’t seem to want to do that either.
“I had a rough go, Grace.” Joe struggled to get out the words. “My plane and I got shot up pretty bad. My right lung was pierced, and my leg took a lot of shrapnel. I barely made it back to the airfield. By the time they pulled me out of the wreckage, I’d lost consciousness. I didn’t wake up for a long time. When I did, I had gangrene.”
I sucked in a breath through clenched teeth. The side of his mouth ticked up at my reaction.
“I fought them hard, but they took my leg,” he went on. “I can’t tell you how angry I was… at myself, at the world. That’s when I first told you to stop writing back to me.”
Whatever backbone I’d hoped to have went to mush. “Oh, Joe. That’s just awful. I wish you’d told me. I would have helped you.”
“At first, I didn’t want you to worry about me,” he admitted. “And, of course, you’re Grace. You kept writing anyway. But later, when it looked like I was going to die, I didn’t want to hurt you. I wanted you to be free of memories of me-”
“That’s the most preposterous thing I’ve ever-”
“After they amputated my leg,” he continued, speaking right over me, “I didn’t want to come back to you as less than a man.”
What was he telling me exactly? I blurted out my first crass notion: “It’s just your leg, right?”
A long moment passed. Then he threw back his head and laughed.
“Then all is perfect.” I tilted my face and gave him my best China doll smile. “After all, your manhood isn’t measured by your leg.”
He laughed even harder at the audacity of my comment.
“A lot of guys got it worse than you.” I thought of Yori and all the waiters, busboys, and servicemen, who didn’t make it back.
“But I was an ace.” Joe hesitated before trying to explain himself. “I thought, when this thing is over, I’ll forget about law school and become a commercial air pilot. Remember how we used to talk about that? I won’t be able to fly commercially now,” he stated with grim finality. “You need all your parts-”
“So you’ll fly for fun.”
He gave me a wry smile. He didn’t need to explain. What if I’d never been able to dance professionally?
“Anyway,” he went on, “it took a long time before I was stable enough to be sent back to the States. Even when I got home, I didn’t want to see you. I felt sorry for myself, but my anger was what kept me from getting in touch. I’d promised I wouldn’t be around you when I was like that.”
Disappointment still radiated from him, but I didn’t sense fury or bitterness. His fighting days were over.
“What changed?”
“Time. Home. My mom and dad. I told them about you. And they-my mom especially-have been working on me. But I’ll be honest with you, Grace. I’m not who I was.”
“Neither am I.”
That hung heavier in the air than I expected. Outside, night was melting into dawn. The clock on the wall read 6:34. I needed to get a little sleep before meeting the gals at 2:00 for our last rehearsal before Toast of the Town, and then I had three shows tonight. I still had no idea what Joe wanted, but I needed to be firm for the sake of my friends.
“I’m really sorry, but I need to go to my hotel and get some sleep. The next two days are big for me, Joe.”
He didn’t ask why. Maybe this hurt him. But if he wanted to say something or ask me something, then he needed to act. I wasn’t going to help him, not after everything we’d been through. Yet the look on his face pushed me to ask, “Will you come and see me tonight at the China Doll?” As soon as the words were out of my mouth, I regretted them. “Ruby will be there.”
“I know,” he responded. “I had a lot of time in the hospital and even more time in Winnetka to read the gossip columns. But why would I care where she is? I came to see you.” He shook his head. “What I mean is, I’ve come for you. My life is no good without you.”
Romantic words, and I so wanted to believe him, but a part of me was in turmoil. He was the love of my life, but could I trust him after he’d left me high and dry and broken my heart? And what would he do when he saw Ruby? She was so beautiful, and he’d always been entranced by her. My insecurities went even deeper than that. Even if he no longer cared for her, was he just falling back on someone he thought would take him now that he was crippled?
While all this was batting around in my head, Joe was watching me, bemused, taking in, I felt sure, every questioning emotion that must have been playing across my face. Even after our long separation, he knew me so well.
“I’ll come to the last show,” he said finally. “That’s always been your best.”
A FEW HOURS later, Ruby woke me out of a sound sleep. “You look like hell,” she quipped after I sat up and put my feet on the floor. “Hurry up. We need to rehearse.”