Chapter 2
Amy stood with her two suitcases on the pavement beside her and watched the bus pull away. She was suddenly possessed by a feeling of complete aloneness. The ecstasy of arrival, of which she had dreamed, faded into the drabness of the reality and she shivered slightly as she turned to survey the town of Millersville.
The first thing she noticed were the very high curbstones. They rose almost a foot from the gutter and were a mark, to her, of the utter strangeness of this world. In New York the curbstones were a sensible four or five inches from the street level.
Wood was the next thing that caught her eyes. At home almost everything was stone, but here all the houses were made of wood. Amy stood for a while staring around at the stores and shops, trying to get the feel of the town.
There were but few people on the street, though it seemed to Amy that all of them were eyeing her with curiosity. She had to find a place to stay, but these strangers passing her on the street appeared too aloof for Amy to approach. She remained where she was for several minutes looking helplessly around. Then, she picked up her two suitcases and started walking down the street.
A couple of soldiers passed her and the sight of their uniforms reminded her of Bull. One of them wolf-whistled at her, but she ignored him. As she approached a drug store she glanced inside. A middle-aged man was behind the counter as Amy entered.
"Yes, Miss?" he said softly.
"I don't want to buy anything," Amy explained shyly. "It's just about a place to stay. I'm a stranger here and I was wondering if you could recommend me to a place where I could get a nice room."
The druggist smiled.
"Sure thing, Miss. Try Mrs. Cartison, over on Hickory St. It's only got elms and oaks, but that's what the damfools named it. She's likely to have a room. Staying here long?"
The question put Amy into confusion and she blushed.
"Yes," she said. "I expect to."
"Hubby in camp?"
"He's not my husband yet," Amy blushed again. The druggist smiled broadly. "Well, well, so's there going to be a wedding."
"Can you tell me where I can find Hickory St.?" Amy cut in before he ask any more questions. "Why, sure."
He took her to the door and pointed down the street.
"Turn left at the corner," he said "and go down two blocks. That's Hickory St. Mrs. Cartison's is halfway up the street on the right. It's a big white house with a porch. There's probably a sign saying 'Rooms' outside it."
Amy thanked the man and proceeded down the street again. She was glad when she turned off Main St. The side streets were lined with trees and seemed very peaceful and comforting. Hickory Street turned out to be what she had always pictured a small town street. The pavement was bumpy and dusty, while the trees were old and thick-trunked, heavy with the bright green foliage of spring. The houses were old and badly in need of a new coat of paint.
Amy found Mrs. Cartison's house very easily. The house showed its age more than the others, the paint having chipped off in several patches. The door gate leaned brokenly on one hinge and rubbed against the flagstone walk leading up to the house.
On the porch, which creaked at every step, Amy set her bags down and was about to ring the bell when she paused. She fished into her purse, took out a mirror, and checked her makeup. She rang the bell then and waited. After several minutes she heard footsteps from inside. The door opened and an elderly woman appeared, regarding her with hostile eyes.
"What d' ye want?"
The woman's cold and clipped speech intimated Amy. There was no welcome in her tone even though the two suitcases clearly announced Amy's purpose. She was taller than Amy, lank-boned and thin, with grey hair mixed with black and cold grey eyes. Her hands were heavy and reddened from hard work. She wore black flat-heeled shoes that were scuffed. and unpolished.
"I want a room," Amy said timidly.
Mrs. Cartison looked her over without changing her expression and said nothing.
"The man in the drug store sent me here," Amy went on. "I just arrived in town. My name is Amy Lovett."
"Ten dollars a week in advance for a single room," Mrs. Cartison said flatly. "Fifteen with breakfasts. No cooking in the rooms. Rent due every Monday."
She spoke each short sentence peremptorily and coldly. She made no move to ask Amy in or show her the room, but remained where she stood, barring the doorway with her withered body. Amy looked around her uncertainly, surprised by Mrs. Cartison's hostile manner. If she could have fled at this moment, Amy would have done so. That is, if she knew where else to go.
"Can ... can I see the room?" It was scarcely more than a whisper.
Mrs. Cartison jerked her head on her scrawny neck in a gesture which informed Amy to follow her.
The room Mrs. Cartison led her into, faced the rear of the house and the ceiling came down at such an acute slant that Amy's head touched it before she reached the outer wall. Wall and ceiling met at a point about four feet above the floor. An iron bed, its dark brown paint chipped, stretched from the left hand wall past the dormer window. There was about two feet of space between the end of the bed and the wall and the room was not as wide as it was long. An old walnut-stained chest with an adjustable mirror on top of it, a shaky flat writing table and one rocking chair completed the room's furnishings. Amy felt ten dollars was a lot of money for a room like this.
"Ye staying?"
Mrs. Cartison was regarding her with the same uncompromising hostility. Amy felt that she would be just as glad to see her go.
"It's a small room," Amy started to say.
"Bigger room costs fifteen dollars," the woman snapped. "That's the price and you won't do better anywhere's else."
It was the first thing she had said that indicated she wanted to rent to room. Amy still hesitated.
"I don' know what you expect for so little money," Mrs. Cartison said bitterly. "I've got to live too."
"All right," Amy decided. "I'll stay. And I'll have breakfast with you."
"That's fifteen dollars." The woman stuck out her hand.
Amy pulled out a ten and a five out of her purse and gave it to her. Mrs. Cartison crumpled the bills into her apron pocket.
"Breakfast's between eight and nine," she said. "And no visitors. This is a rooming house and that's all." She went out abruptly, closing the door behind her.
Amy was glad to be rid of her. She kicked off her shoes and stretched out on the bed, exhausted. The sounds of the country seeped in to her through the window and the rustle of leaves in the gentle breeze was a restful sound. For the first time since her arrival Amy felt a touch of happiness.
After she had rested she changed her clothes and decided to go out for dinner. Besides, she wanted to have another look at Millersville. There was no sign of Mrs. Cartison as she went downstairs. Outside it was dark and the air was fragrant with clover and honeysuckle.
Back on Main St., Amy was really surprised to see how many people were out. There were a lot of soldiers in uniform strolling in groups, some of them with girls. She wondered if Bull were in town and what would happen if she should run into him now.
She ate in a small place where the food was overcooked and unappetizing. Accustomed to eating out in the city, she was amazed to find that the prices were higher in Millersville. Remembering Mrs. Cartison's attitude, Amy began to understand the attitude of all of Millersville toward the presence of an Army camp nearby. It was a golden opportunity and everyone seemed to be in the scramble to relieve the soldiers of whatever money they had.
She went back early and fell asleep easily. She awoke the next morning to the sound of birds cluttering in the trees. The bright sunshine was already streaming in the window.
When she got dressed she went down for breakfast. Surprisingly the meal was delicious and plentiful.
However, she could not bring herself to ask her landlady how to get to Camp Barton. Somehow she was sure that such a request would meet with Mrs. Cartison's frigid disapproval. Instead she went out and walked back to Main St. where she made her inquiries. She learned that she could not go out until later in the day when visiting was permitted. With the whole day ahead of her, Amy took a long walk and came back to Mrs. Cartison's, where she took a bath and changed before going out.
The bus was crowded and she did not get a seat. Most of the people were young girls like herself, many of them carrying packages, and Amy guessed that they were married to soldiers. She felt envious of these girls and thrilled to think that she would soon be one of them.
As she drew near camp, however, she became very nervous and all her confidence disappeared. All sorts of ideas came into her mind, such as Bull being hurt, or not being there. Her nervousness did not abate, but rather increased when the bus braked to a stop in a dusty clearing and everyone got off.
Amy followed the others through the clearing. It was hot in the sun and she could see the heat waves shimmering over the tin roofs of the Army barracks. They had to walk about one hundred yards to the gate, which was guarded by two armed soldiers. The people before her showed a pass and were admitted; Amy felt a spurt of fear that they would bar her. But when she told them why she had come, they gave her a pass. As she turned to go into camp, one of the soldiers grinned and winked at the other. As she stepped along the walk toward the reception building, she overheard them mention Bull's name, but that was all. She blushed and her nervousness increased.
At the reception building she told the sergeant at the desk that she wanted to see Sgt. Hanrahan.
"You mean Bull, Miss?" he grinned up at her.
Amy blushed again.
"Yes," she nodded.
The sergeant shook his head in admiration.
"I don't know how he does it, but he does it," he said. "I'll get him for you, Miss."
She sat down to wait while the sergeant collected the names of all the men who had visitors. Soon she would see Bull and she could guess now how surprised he would be. Then the thought entered her mind that her appearance at the camp might embarrass him among his friends and again she wondered if she had done the right thing. Maybe she should have called to tell him she was in Millersville and could she meet him in town instead.