Page 92 of The Women of Oak Ridge
He shook his head and stood. “I’m on my way to work, but,” he paused, a slight grin inching up his face, “if everything is okay here tomorrow, maybe we can have dinner.”
I couldn’t help but smile. “That sounds nice.”
“Good. I’ll call you later.”
Dad arrived on the porch as Jonas was driving away. He gave me a knowing look as he took a seat.
“We’re just friends, Dad,” I said, returning to the chair I’d been sitting in when Jonas arrived.
He chuckled. “I may be old, Laurel Ann, but I remember how I felt when your mother and I met. Your eyes light up when you’re with Jonas.”
I’d never been able to hide things from Dad. “I admit I like him. A lot. But my job, my family, my life is in Boston. His life is here, in Oak Ridge. A relationship beyond friendship would be too complicated.”
We sat in silence for a while, looking out toward the tree-covered hills in the distance.
“Oak Ridge is a special place,” he said. “Not only because it was a secret city during the war and has a fascinating history connected to the Manhattan Project, but I became a man here. Mama was frail and worn out by the time Pa passed and we moved from Kentucky to live with Mae. I was only fifteen, but I got a job after school and had to grow up. When I graduated from high school, Mae was adamant that I leave Oak Ridge. I’d planned to attend the University of Tennessee in Knoxville so I could still take care of Mama and Mae. During the war, UT started the V-12 Navy College Training Program, which offered students a path to a Navy commission. That was my plan, but Mae put her foot down.”
“Wow,” I said. “You were going to join the Navy?”
He nodded. “It seemed like a good option, but Mae didn’t want me in the military. The war was hard on her. On everyone. She convinced me to leave all that behind and go into business. My high school accounting teacher had graduated from Boston University and helped me apply to the school. He wrote a letter of recommendation and somehow I ended up with a partial scholarship.” A gentle smile touched his lips. “Mama was so proud. She told me to spread my wings and fly, so I did.”
“I wish I could have known Grandma.”
“She would’ve loved you and your sisters.” He took my hand. “If I hadn’t listened to Mae and changed my plans, I would have never met your mother. Life is too short to be set on one certain idea and miss all the wonderful surprises that come along. Surprises that can alter what we thought was the right path for ourselves but actually ends up being the very thing we needed to make us happy.”
His words stirred something deep inside me. A hope for the future that had nothing to do with degrees and jobs. “I hear what you’re saying, Daddy.”
He kissed my knuckles. “Now,” he said, a teasing tone in his voice, “I’m not telling you to move away from us. There are plenty of jobs for cops in Boston.”
I had to laugh at that.
It was after five o’clock when Aunt Mae roused. She was groggy and weak but wanted to sit in the living room and watch the evening news.
“Remember what the doctor said about overstimulation,” Dad reminded her. “Television, radio, and reading are to be limited until your brain fully heals.”
“I just want to hear what Walter Cronkite has to say, then we can shut it off.” She rubbed her temple. “I do have a bit of a headache.”
“Can I get you some aspirin, Aunt Mae?” I jumped up from my place on the sofa, ready to help.
“No, dear, but thank you. I took some a little while ago.”
I watched her closely, concerned about the slight slurring of her words. When I glanced at Dad, he nodded, indicating he’d noticed it too. He clicked on the television set and turned the knob to switch channels. Walter Cronkite’s familiar voice soon filled the room.
The Dow Jones was up, while treasury bill rates dropped. A leak caused the 800-mile Trans-Alaska pipeline to be shut down. Race car driver Bobby Unser broke a three-year victory drought.
Then Cronkite’s voice turned serious.
“In news from Great Britain, the trial of Letty Gladding, the woman arrested for spying for Russia, is over.”
Aunt Mae uttered a strange sound. When I looked her way, I found her wide eyes fixed on the television screen.
“Mrs. Gladding was found guilty of violating the Official Secrets Act, legislation that provides for the protection of state secrets and official information,” Cronkite continued. A mugshot of Mrs. Gladding filled the screen behind him. “During World War II and in the years that followed, Mrs. Gladding worked in British government offices as a secretary. She has been found guilty of passing classified information to the Soviets, including materials regarding Tube Alloys, the British atomic weapons program during the 1940s. She is the latest of what are being called ‘atomic spies’ to be prosecuted. Here in the United States, it is believed many spies within the Manhattan Project have yet to be positively identified.”
The jingle for a laundry detergent commercial replaced his solemn voice.
“It’s crazy that they’re still uncovering spies all these years later,” Dad said.
“Mrs. Gladding was arrested the day I came to the house andasked you all those questions about Oak Ridge,” I said. “I wouldn’t know about the Secret City if I hadn’t walked into the faculty lounge while Dr. Baca was watching the news.”
