Proof Positive

Woodsboro, Texas
The evening of December 7, 1941 —

The night sky was cloudless. Moonlight created eerie shadows in the shape of stalking soldiers. A backward glance assured Marty that Mom and Pop were within sight. He stretched his steps to match Billy’s as they walked toward home from church. “Ya think those kami—kamikaz—whatchamacall–‘um are gonna fly over here, Billy?”
Billy tossed a confident look toward his younger brother. “Shucks, no, Marty. We’re too far away. Our guys are on to ‘um now. They’ll shoot ‘um down before their planes could make it to West Texas.”
“That’s what I was thinkin’.” Marty flashed his ready smile and ran ahead to the newspaper office door.
Billy looked up at the heavens, frosted with stars. He shivered. The celestial brightness seemed to meld into one huge mass of illumination. It’s the German U-boats I’m thinking about. They could be sitting out there in the Gulf right now. His large brown eyes searched the vacant lot next to the print shop. I sure hope God answers Pastor Goodman’s prayer about protecting us from the Nazis and the Japanese.
Inside the screen door, Marty twisted the tarnished front door-knob to no avail. Billy said, “Let me get it, Mart. You have to twist the knob and pull up on it at the same time, remember?”

Each time Winn saw The Woodsboro News sign hanging over their porch, a spark of pride ignited in his soul. “Turn on the lights, Billy.” Winn held Hope’s elbow as she stepped onto the low wood platform that stretched across the front of their shop. The sleeping baby in her arms was wrapped in the soft crocheted blanket Grandma Davidson made. “You’re shivering, Sugar. Hurry inside. I’ll have the stove fired up in no time.” Winn rushed to open the outside screen door the boys had allowed to slam shut.
Billy pulled several long cords, lighting the way as he dashed around the front counter, weaving a path around work-tables and presses, and into the living quarters behind a partition. “Get some more kindling, Marty.”
“There’s already some in there.” He dashed toward their bedroom.
“Not enough.” Billy opened the curved door of the potbelly stove.
Winn plopped his hat on the rack. “Never mind, boys. It’s been a hard day. Just get ready for bed. I’ll take care of the stove.” He stepped out of the kitchen door onto the stoop and grabbed an arm’s load of sticks and apple box strips from the wood box. The stove stood in the center of the large open room that served as the kitchen, dining area, and bedroom for Hope and Winn. He tossed in the wood, stoked the fire, and shut the door. Welcome heat immediately billowed out of the black vents.
Still holding Dove Lynette, Hope kicked off her shoes and slid her aching feet into slippers. “Ah, first things first.” In the children’s walled-off bedroom, she settled the baby in her crib while Marty and Billy prepared for bed. They jumped under the quilts and waited for their mother to listen to their prayers. Hope sat on the side of their bed and gazed for a long moment at their freshly scrubbed faces. She pushed a strand of light brown hair from Billy’s brow.
“You’re thinking about all those people in Pearl Harbor, aren’t you, Mom?”
She nodded. “Yes, and their loved ones waiting for word from them.” She kissed Marty just before his eyelids lost the battle to stay awake. “I’m also thinking about how blessed we are to be together in a safe place.”
Her lips brushed Billy’s cheek. He said, “Hawaii is where the navy sent Harold and Harvey. I’m going to pray for them every day.”
Her stomach tightened. She forced a tired smile. “I’m praying for them too, Billy, and for their mother and little sister. I hope word comes soon that the boys are safe and sound.” She turned off the light and left their door ajar.
Two mugs were on the kitchen table. The radio volume was low. Hope recognized Tommy Dorsey’s orchestra playing “I’ll Never Smile Again.” Winn set a pan in the sink and ran water in it. “I reheated the cocoa, Sugar. There was just enough left for us. Get ready for bed. I’ll bring it to you.”
Hope sighed and stood beside the table. “What a sad song to be playing tonight—‘I’ll never smile again until I smile at you.’ I imagine many people are wondering if they’ll ever see their loved one if they’re out in the Pacific somewhere.” She unfastened her belt and slid it through the loops of her dark blue dress. “Billy said he’d pray for the Parks boys. Their mother thought they’d be safe when they were sent to Pearl Harbor, away from the fighting in Europe.” Hope went to their bedroom nook and turned down the chenille spread. “It was a wonderful thing to see so many people at church tonight.”
Winn set her mug of hot liquid on the bedside table. “Folks feel the need to gather with others in times of crisis.” He took a cautious sip of his. “Mmm, it’s good and hot.”
“I hope they came to seek the Lord and not just their neighbors.”
He sat in a straight-back chair beside the bed. “I’ve been mulling it over in my mind, trying to find the words to write about it in this week’s column. Honestly, Sugar, I’ve never seen anything like it.”
She slipped on her cotton gown, sat on the bed, and began brushing her light brown hair. “It reminded me of how people came together for the swap day you organized in Humble during the Depression. People came from all around; it helped them know they weren’t alone.”