We didn’t even sit down when everyone around us did. We couldn’t. We stood there, paralyzed with worry about what our friend was about to do. I pictured her running off the stage in tears or fainting, and I prayed that she would make it through whatever the heck she was going to do up there.
The audience got quiet, and I saw Joe Brandon, at the piano, give a signal to the band to start. The first notes of the song started up, and Dottie’s cheeks were scarlet as she blinked a couple of times. She looked in the direction of Joe, and he was smiling at her and nodding in encouragement.
“Can she even see him without her glasses?” Viv whispered.
I shook my head.
Dottie began to sing the first few lines of “Someone to Watch Over Me,” and Viv and I, still holding hands, looked at each other in shock. I was dumbfounded. I always knew she had a pretty voice. I heard it when she sang next to me during the sing-alongs. She had sung in the church choir, and she sang for her students all the time. But in all the years we had been friends, I had never heard Dottie really sing, all by herself. As the song continued, her singing got stronger, more confident, less self-conscious. And it took my breath away.
I wasn’t the only one that was awestruck. The audience was enchanted. I glanced at a few of the soldiers sitting near us, and the light from the stage reflected off the tears glistening in their eyes. Her voice was sweet and clear and beautiful, and something about it seemed to take them back home.
Liz and the rest of the Clubmobile girls looked as shocked and as proud as I felt. And Jimmy, who was a few rows behind us, was beaming from ear to ear.
She finished singing, and this time the standing ovation was all for Dottie as the audience, starting with our Clubmobile section, leaped to their feet. Dottie stood there with her hands clasped in front of her mouth, an expression of pure joy and surprise on her face. She couldn’t believe what she had just done. Glenn Miller walked over to her, said a few words, and kissed her hand. Then, holding it up to the audience, he signaled us to give her one more round of applause.
I swallowed the lump in my throat and wiped my eyes. Viv pulled out her handkerchief, crying and laughing.
“Jesus Christ,” Viv said, shaking her head. “I had no idea, did you?”
“I knew she could sing, but not like that.”
“And she’s so damn good, Fiona,” Viv said. “That was amazing.”
“I agree,” I said.
“Thank you to Dottie Sousa for that beautiful performance,” said Arthur the emcee. “Remember that name, folks. Remember that voice. Now we’ll hear from the Army Air Force Band’s male vocalist, Dennis Goodwin.”
Viv and I rushed out of the auditorium and down the hall that ran parallel to it until we finally found the backstage door. Dottie walked out just as we were about to open it. We screamed when we saw her, our voices echoing in the empty hallway as we collapsed into a group hug, jumping up and down. A military policeman was standing nearby, looking annoyed yet amused.
“That was incredible,” I said, when we finally broke away. “Dottie, all these years, I had no idea you could sing like that. I’m so proud of you I could burst.”
“Honey, you are really talented,” Viv said. “I’m not just saying this because you’re one of my best friends. You’re not like local-church-talent-show good; you’re more like Andrews Sisters good. Maybe even better.”
“Thank you,” Dottie said, her cheeks flushed. She was still glistening with sweat from the stage lights. “I was so nervous that I thought I might be sick; the extra glass of champagne helped calm me a little.”
“How did you ever get up the courage to do it?” I said.
“My whole life, I’ve dreamed of doing something like that,” she said. “My students always told me I should. But you know me. I just never thought I’d have the nerve. Then when I cut my hand and messed up observation day . . .”
I started to protest, but she kept talking.
“I know it wasn’t entirely my fault, but it didn’t help, did it?” she said. “Anyway, I’ve been trying to play for the troops more, do things that will improve our standing in Miss Chambers’s eyes. And when Joe told me there was going to be a secret concert with a big band, I got the idea. I sang for him with my guitar, and he was blown away when he heard me. He helped me make it happen. And something like this has to get back to Miss Chambers in London, right? Nothing improves soldiers’ morale like music from home.”
“So, wait, Joe convinced the Glenn Miller Band to let you sing?” I said.
“He did,” she said. “He said with a voice like mine it wouldn’t take much convincing. So, when they got here I sang for the band, and the guys went crazy. Glenn Miller is a serious man, very hardworking. But he was really happy to have me. Just now onstage, he said I have a future in music if I want it. I’m sorry, I don’t mean to brag.”
“You sang with Glenn Miller—brag all you want, my friend,” Viv said, putting her arm around Dottie.
We headed to one of the bars to get drinks and celebrate Dottie’s solo singing debut. The band started playing a slow song, and Harry Westwood came out of the auditorium, his eyes scanning the bar area for Viv. When he spotted her, he came over and offered her his hand.
“Night’s almost over. I think we should have at least one more dance, don’t you?” he said to her.
“Do you?” she said, looking at his hand like she might say no. But then she put down her glass of Coke and took it. He looked relieved.
“You were marvelous, Dottie,” he said, and she thanked him before they walked away.
“What’s going on with him now?” she said.
“With Viv, who knows?” I said. “She likes the attention, not to mention the British accent.”
“Speaking of attention,” Dottie whispered, taking a sip from her straw and signaling with her eyes that there was someone behind me.
I turned around and nearly bumped into Peter Moretti.
“Oh,” I said, startled. It was the first time I had seen him since the night I ran out of petrol. “Hi.”
“Hi,” he said in a quiet voice, no smile. His hair had been recently cut, and I could smell his cologne, the same one he’d been wearing the last time I saw him. Pine trees and cedarwood.
“Would you like to dance?” he said.
“I thought you didn’t dance.”
“I don’t,” he said. “But it’s my favorite song, and it’s Glenn Miller live, so I thought—” He now looked like he regretted asking me, so I interrupted him.
“You’re right,” I said with a nod. “Let’s dance.”
Peter congratulated Dottie, and I kissed her on the cheek. She gave me a curious look, just as Liz and some of the other Clubmobile girls came over and mobbed her with hugs.
I was flustered, so I’m not sure who took whose hand first, but we were holding hands as we walked onto the dance floor. I couldn’t deny that warm butterfly feeling in my chest and the thrill I felt that my hand was in his. And then almost at the same time came the crush of guilt.
You’re still engaged. He’s missing, but as long as he might be alive, you’re still engaged to the only guy you’ve ever loved.
I’d had crushes in high school, but Danny was the only man that I had ever been truly in love with. I didn’t know it was possible that your heart could ache for one person and feel something toward another. My life had never been that complicated.
We faced each other to dance, and he noticed my far-off look as he put his arms around my waist.
“Are you okay?” he asked, as I put my arms around his neck.
“Yes, of course,” I said, giving him a small smile, and I felt him relax. I prayed he couldn’t hear my heart beating. “I wouldn’t have guessed ‘A Nightingale Sang in Berkeley Square’ as your favorite song.”
“There’s a lot of things you don’t know about me,” he said, flashing his crooked smile.
“That is true,” I said. “Maybe I should learn more. After the war is over, are you going to go back to boxing?”
“‘After the war is over’ is a lifetime away,” he said. “But no, I won’t go back to boxing. I went into boxing because I was a poor kid from the Bronx, and I was good at it and could make good money. Now I’m twenty-seven years old, and it’s a young man’s sport. I’ll finish my degree if this war ever ends—for free, thanks to the army.”
“What degree is that?”
“Mechanical engineering,” he said, watching me for a reaction.
“You’re right,” I said, a little surprised. “I don’t know much about you at all.”
He was gazing into my eyes. It was that feeling I thought I might never feel again. A feeling like you’re the only two people in the room. I looked away first, feeling guilt over what I wanted to happen next between us.
“What about you, what are you going to do after?” he said.
“I have no idea.” I sighed. “I feel uneasy, not knowing.”
“I think we’re all feeling that way,” he said.
We stopped talking but kept dancing, and then relaxed into each other. I tried not to think and to just enjoy the moment, but my thoughts kept getting in the way.
“Do you know when you ship out?” I asked.
“I do, but I can’t say,” he said. The song was almost over, and he grabbed my hand and started pulling me off the dance floor.