Mrs. Lieutenant: A Sharon Gold Novel Read Online Free

surrounded by his medical texts and
medical school degrees and certificates. He sat behind his oversize
mahogany desk in his red leather chair and she sat in a matching
armchair facing him.
    "Honey," he said, "your mama and I have
always tried to do the best for you. We've done some things right
and I'm sure a whole lot of things wrong. And maybe some of those
things we thought we did right were really wrong."
    What was he leading up to? She rubs her hands
along the red leather armrests.
    "We wanted you to be proud, proud of yourself
and your race. And to do that we chose to protect you as much as we
could from the real world as you were growing up."
    He fiddled with papers on his desk, creating
several small piles from a single large one as if laying bricks end
to end, then returned his attention to her.
    "Your mama and I kept as much as we could
from you of the truth about the treatment of black people in
America. We didn't want you to know how bad it can be."
    He paused again and Wendy thought about her
rudimentary school learning of the slaves in the South, the
aftermath of Reconstruction, and the civil rights movement. It had
all been pretty much book learning, because in her own black
community – and then later at an all-black college in Texas – she
led a rather sheltered life, not exposed to the rest of the world.
This move to Ft. Knox would be her first time truly in the white
world.
    "When I was in the army in World War II," her
papa was saying, "it was strictly segregated units. It wasn't until
the Korean War – and that's only 20 years ago – that there were
integrated units. And I'm afraid," he said, his speech slowing,
"that the army may not have changed as much as we would like it to
have."
    "Do you think Nelson will have problems?"
Wendy asked, holding her breath to see how much her papa would say
now that he had started down this "truthful" path.
    "It will depend on a lot of factors,” he
said, “including how you both handle yourselves. You and Nelson
will have to wait and see."
    Her father then stood and came around his
desk to hug her. "Your mama and I wish you and Nelson all the
best," he said.
    That night when she and Nelson got ready for
bed, Nelson asked, "What did your papa want with you in
private?"
    Wendy stood with her nightgown still in her
hands, her nude body outlined by the glow of the lamp behind her.
She opened her mouth to tell her husband, then changed her mind.
Nelson always chided her for her naiveté. And she was naive – why
shouldn't she be? As her mama once said, "Why hear bad news? It
only makes you feel bad and you usually can't do anything about
it."
    In the same way Wendy hadn't really thought
about blacks in America, she had refused to think about Nelson's
army commitment. Why think of it ahead of time when she couldn't do
anything about it? And even if her father's words had worried her,
she wasn't about to admit this to Nelson. He'd just say something
like "You're finally catching on."
    Instead she smiled and said, "He wanted to
say good-bye and wish us luck." Then she got into bed. She knew the
moment Nelson slid in beside her he'd forget the conversation,
instantly immersed in his nightly exploration of the mysteries of
her body. They had only been married four months.
    Now here they are outside Ft. Knox, Kentucky,
about to look for an apartment for themselves for the first time.
They lived with her parents after their December graduation and
wedding. Nelson worked in her papa's office and she practiced
cooking and keeping house with her mama while waiting for Nelson to
go on active duty.
    The minimal active duty information they
received from the army lists a housing office. Nelson stops the car
at the entrance to Ft. Knox – they are here! – and asks the soldier
there for directions to the office.
    "That's an MP – a military policeman," he
explains to her as they drive onto the post.
    Wendy nods, then watches out the window.
Wooden buildings perch haphazardly on