Page 14 of The Women of Oak Ridge

“This came for you.” The front desk attendant wore a curious expression when she handed the parcel to me. “Feels heavy.”

She was right. I couldn’t guess who’d sent something to me or what might be inside.

Only my name and dorm number were written on the front.

Mama had mailed a tin of molasses cookies three weeks ago, but I’d had to go to the post office to pick them up.

The package had been opened, no doubt by military censors who checked every article of mail that entered the Reservation, and I was certain a few cookies were missing.

The curious attendant looked disappointed when I didn’t open the package right then and instead hurried upstairs. Sissy wasn’t in our room. I guessed she was out with Clive again.

With excitement, I tore off the paper and gasped when I lifted the lid of the box.

A pair of brand-new rubber galoshes met my eyes.

All I could do was stare at them, confused.

Where had they come from? There surely had been a mistake. They must’ve been delivered to the wrong person. Was there another Maebelle Willett in Oak Ridge? I hadn’t heard of someone with the same name.

I took a boot out of the box, inhaling the strong aroma of new rubber.

I couldn’t help but admire it. The waterproof footwear was exactly what I needed to conquer Oak Ridge’s never-ending mud.

But disappointment immediately followed such a thought, knowing I had to return them to whomever made the mistake.

For a brief moment I considered keeping the galoshes. I desperately needed them. No one could fault me if I kept them for myself. My name was on the box, after all. It wasn’t as if I’d stolen them.

Guilt washed through me even thinking such a thing.

God and Mama would both be disappointed in me.

The sender would no doubt realize their mistake when the other Maebelle Willett didn’t receive the package.

They would come looking for the boots. The right thing to do would be to try and track that person down and alert them to the error.

Perhaps the girl at the front desk would remember who delivered them.

I gazed at the footwear with longing.

Couldn’t I at least try them on? Just to know if they fit? When I was finally able to purchase a pair from the store, I’d know what size to get.

Unfortunately for me, the boots were a perfect fit, making it even harder to think about returning them. I tromped around the room, imagining how it would feel to trudge through the mud without fear of ruining my shoes. Rain would no longer be a despised visitor.

With a heavy sigh, I took off the boots. As I started to return them to the box, I noticed a folded piece of paper at the bottom.

Maebelle,

I hope these fit. I saw them at the PX and thought you could use them.

Would you like to have dinner with me tomorrow night?

Garlyn

I stared at the note, then at the boots.

Garlyn bought me a pair of galoshes?

I hadn’t seen him today, but then most of my errands took me to areas of the complex away from the main building. I studied the footwear, their Army-green color a clue I should have noticed when I first opened the box.

According to Prudence, military personnel shopped at a PX, a place where they had access to many hard-to-find items the general population of Oak Ridge was unable to get their hands on.

The lucky girls in the dorm who were dating GIs proudly paraded around in nylons and lipstick that were impossible to obtain for anyone not in the military.

I wasn’t sure what to think.

While Garlyn’s kindness was thoughtful, I hoped he didn’t expect something in return. We’d only shared one dinner, and although I found him amiable, I didn’t know him any more than he knew me. With all the secrecy and spying that went on at CEW, I was fast learning not everyone could be trusted.

I returned the boots to the box, torn about what to do.

I needed the galoshes. There was no doubt about that. But I also couldn’t accept such an extravagant gift from a man I barely knew.

Decision made, I closed the lid.

Tomorrow, I’d find Garlyn and return the boots.

The box of galoshes rode in the basket of my bicycle the next day, but I never saw Garlyn.

I didn’t inquire if anyone knew his whereabouts, because asking questions drew attention to oneself.

I wasn’t certain what area of the plant he worked in, since his job as an engineer often took him all over the enormous building.

I’d simply leave the boots in the locker in the maintenance building assigned to me and hope I saw Garlyn tomorrow.

The sooner I returned them to him, the better.

Thunder rolled across the gray sky as I exited the building at the end of my shift. I hurried to catch a shuttle while fat drops of rain began to pelt the earth.

I groaned. I didn’t have my umbrella to keep me from getting drenched.

With dozens of other employees, I ran from the shuttle to the security portal.

The line inched forward while rain fell harder.

By the time I passed through the turnstile, any dry space beneath the covered waiting area was occupied.

I hovered on the edge, soaked to the bone.

A chill in the air only made things worse.

“Maebelle.”

I squinted through the downpour to see Garlyn hurrying toward me, an umbrella in hand. He drew up close and positioned the small shelter over me.

“I was afraid I’d missed you,” he said.

I shivered but didn’t reply.

“Here.” He handed me the umbrella, then proceeded to remove his jacket. “You’ll catch cold.”

He draped the outerwear over my shoulders. It felt wonderfully warm, but again, I wasn’t sure what to think about his attentiveness. “Thank you.”

“I didn’t see you today,” he said, glancing down at my feet. “I wasn’t sure you received the note and package I sent you yesterday.”

People darted around us, rushing to and from buses that came and went.

I bit my lip. “It arrived.”

Confusion crossed his face as he glanced at my wet shoes again. “Did you not like the boots? Were they the wrong size? There weren’t many options, so I just guessed.”

I’d rehearsed what I would say all day, but now the words failed me.

“I... I can’t accept them. I’ll return them to you tomorrow.”

Disappointment shone in his eyes. “I don’t understand.”

Someone bumped into me in their mad dash to the bus, nearly toppling me.

“Let’s get out of the rain.” He led the way to a bus going to Townsite. We boarded, but there was only one vacant seat. Garlyn remained standing as the bus pulled away. The lack of privacy kept us from continuing our conversation.

The drive to town took longer in the rain. We passed a bus that had become stuck in the mud, with passengers waving out the window for us to stop. Thankfully our driver kept going, otherwise we may have become bogged down ourselves. He assured us he’d have the dispatcher send a bus to pick them up.

By the time we reached the terminal, the rain had stopped. We disembarked and maneuvered through the crowd to a quieter area away from the ticket windows.

“I’m sorry, Maebelle,” Garlyn said, an earnestness in his voice. “I didn’t mean to offend you by purchasing the boots. I see now that, well, that it may have seemed rather forward, and that isn’t what I intended at all.”

His sincerity eased the tension I’d felt all day. “It was a very nice thing to do. I have to admit they fit perfectly.”

A small smile crinkled his eyes. “The only other pair was a size eleven, and I didn’t think your feet were quite that big.”

I grinned, grateful he wasn’t angry. “Not quite, but I really can’t accept them.”

He nodded, then said, “Instead of me returning them to the PX, how about you purchase them from me? You still need galoshes, don’t you? I’ll even charge you a little extra if you want. For my trouble and all.”

That made me laugh. “It’s a deal.”

He glanced in the direction of the cafeteria down the street. “Would you like to join me for dinner? I hear they’re serving fried chicken.” When he faced me again, he said, “I’ll understand if you’d rather not.”

The honesty in his brown eyes convinced me I’d been silly to think he was anything but a gentleman. That he’d bought me a pair of galoshes simply because he knew I needed them warmed me down to the wet soles of my feet.

“If you’ll give me a minute to stop by the dorm and change out of these wet things, I’d be happy to join you for fried chicken.”

He extended his arm. “Shall we?”

I happily accepted.

My schedule changed the following week, which meant Sissy and I were now on different shifts.

She was usually asleep when I arrived back at the dorm, and I slept soundly while she readied for work in the morning.

I wasn’t a night owl, so these odd hours would take some getting used to, that’s for certain.

I quietly changed into my nightgown. I wasn’t sleepy, but I didn’t want to wake Sissy by stirring around the room.

I crawled into bed, thinking about Garlyn.

We’d met at the K-25 cafeteria on my dinner break earlier this evening.

His work hours hadn’t changed, but he’d figured out that I ate an hour after his shift ended.

With a twinkle in his eye, he said he didn’t mind waiting for me.

I wasn’t sure where our friendship was headed, but after the galoshes, I’d come to the conclusion I wanted to find out.

I reached to switch off the lamp on the bedside table when I noticed a small, leather-bound book. The cover was plain, with no title or author’s name. Thinking it might be something interesting I could read for a while, I reached for it.

I was surprised to find neat handwriting filled the page instead of printed words.

It was dated the day we arrived on the Reservation.

Dear Diary,

I’m in Tennessee! Mama thought it’d be fun for me to write down my experiences and share them with her later, so she bought me this diary.

But the man who gave us a stern talking-to today said keeping diaries and journals was discouraged.

I can’t figure why, considering I ain’t got nothing interesting to write about yet.

I figure I’ll just jot down some things here and there for Mama so’s she’ll be pleased I used the diary.

My roommate Maebelle is a nice gal from Kentucky and...

I quickly closed the book.

I hadn’t known Sissy was keeping a diary. I vaguely recalled being told not to maintain journals and such, mainly due to the threat of them being found by enemy spies.

I stifled a laugh.

Anyone who stole Sissy’s diary would surely be disappointed with the contents. She didn’t know any more than I did about why we were in Oak Ridge or what was going on here. I imagine her most recent entries were about Clive, but whatever she wrote, it wasn’t any of my business.

I returned the book to the bedside table and shut off the light.

My thoughts, however, wouldn’t settle. Just yesterday Mr. Colby informed me one of the clerks I’d worked with at K-25 was fired because she spoke out of turn.

A creep , the nickname Oak Ridgers used for someone who worked as an informant for the FBI, overheard the young woman share information about the layout of the massive plant.

I hadn’t known the girl well, but she’d seemed as nice and normal as anyone else.

That she’d been fired because she talked about the building where I worked every day left me feeling anxious.

One slipup to the wrong person and I could lose my job too.

It was easy to forget everything on the Reservation was classified information.

It wasn’t just the buildings and the equipment inside, either.

We were never to discuss the number of employees we worked with, the neighborhood or dorm where we lived, even the food at the cafeteria or the shortages at the local market.

Everything— everything! —was to be kept secret.

I mulled that over for a minute.

I still didn’t know what was being manufactured within the walls of K-25.

Since I’d begun working there, I’d become familiar with the various buildings that housed different machines, storage tanks, and pipes, yet I hadn’t seen even one product come out the doors.

It became obvious in my first days that military tanks, guns, and weapons for the Army weren’t being assembled in the enormous building.

Because that was as near to the truth as I could determine, it seemed more likely the machines processed something, but what, I couldn’t imagine.

I had a suspicion Garlyn knew the answer to the mystery, but asking him wasn’t something I considered doing.

Even if we continued to see each other, I wouldn’t let my curiosity risk putting him in jeopardy of losing his job.

I rolled onto my side and looked out to the night sky.

The window faced north, toward Kentucky.

Mama came to mind, and I whispered a prayer for her, Pa, and Harris.

I missed them, but I had to admit I enjoyed living in Oak Ridge.

I may not know exactly what was happening on the Reservation or even what my part in the whole thing was, but I knew we were doing something important.

The government wouldn’t’ve spent millions of dollars to build Oak Ridge if it wasn’t vital to the war effort.

Enemy spies wouldn’t be interested in the work taking place behind the fence if it wasn’t essential to us winning the war.

I was convinced that whatever was going on here would allow us to defeat our enemies and bring our boys home.

Bits of President Roosevelt’s speech from December 1941 trickled through my mind.

I couldn’t recall everything he’d said in the radio address, but his passion and confidence in Americans had stirred something deep inside me that day.

Something patriotic. The president needed each of us to do our part.

I hadn’t known what I could do from my tiny corner of the universe, tucked in a holler of Kentucky, far from Europe or Japan, but I was determined to do something .

I could have never imagined that something would take me to a secret city in the hills of Tennessee, hidden away from the world, working on a project that promised to help bring the war to an end.

I pressed my lips.

Pride was something Mama declared vain and wicked, but the feeling of it welled up within me anyway. Me, little ol’ Maebelle Willett, would have a part in bringing Hitler and Mussolini to their knees.

President Roosevelt himself would commend me if he could.