Previous Challenge Entry (Level 4 – Masters)
Topic: MOTEL (03/06/25)
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TITLE: A Part in Victory | Previous Challenge Entry
By Laurie Bahlke
03/18/25 -
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Barbara thought about Anna at home, likely playing with the wooden blocks on the front porch, toddling about, as Bill’s mother looked on and drank iced tea. Her thoughts were interrupted, as she caught sight of a war poster near a road sign. The poster showed a young woman, about her age, wearing a dress fashioned out of an American flag. She held her head high and carried a drum. The caption read, “Will you have a part in victory?”
The second global war of the twentieth century seemed likely although the US remained neutral, at least that’s what the newspapers reported. The worry of facing war again caused Barbara to feel uncomfortably warm, then sick to her stomach. She took a deep breath and reminded herself that it was June in California, which could result in feeling warm. The fact that she was three months pregnant probably accounted for the nausea. Barbara took another deep breath and thought about all that 1941 had brought so far; Anna’s illness, portions of the victory garden that succumbed to heat and little rain, the start of a new life that was tucked deep inside of her, and the death of her mother.
Barbara loved the way her mother spoke her name. She used slow, deliberate pauses, chunking the word into thirds that evoked both joy and comfort in Barbara, and at other times served to make an impression, an emphasis on a truth that was important to understand.
Mama had once asked her to take a loaf of home-baked bread to the neighbor, Mr. Donald. “But Mama,” Barbara had wailed, “He is so mean, Mama. I don’t want to go.”
“Now Bar-ba-ra”, Mama had said, “What happened to Mr. Donald that made him such a way?”
Barbara sighed. “Grief Mama.”
“Yes Dear, because….”
“Because the Army man delivered the letter to him about his son being killed in the war.”
Mama had smiled at her, smoothing down her auburn curls. “Remember, there are two things in life that require great risk. One of them is love, the other is compassion.”
“Yes Mama. Love and compassion.”
As the memory of that day drifted away, Barbara rubbed the cross around her neck in small circles. It was what mama left her.
Barbara gazed out the window and watched the land change as they drove on. The sun was getting low and colors danced in auburn hues carried by a gentle breeze. “This was their time”, Bill had said, as he placed their luggage in the car that morning. “We won’t be gone long, and Anna will be fine.” Bill reached for her hand and Barbara was reassured by the blueness in his eyes.
Barbara found herself smiling at the thought, her stomach a bit more settled, when she saw a spot on the horizon. As the car paced forward, she realized it was a black woman, sitting on the side of the road.
“Bill, we need to stop. She looks hurt. Maybe she needs help.”
The car continued to press forward, as Bill kept his eyes on the road.
“Barbara, we have a way to go, and I want to get there before dark. I’m sure she is fine.”
The road stretched out before them. Barbara counted the time in her head, One-one thousand, two-one thousand, three-one thousand, before saying more loudly, “Bill, we need to go back.”
Again, the seconds ticked off.
Bill broke the silence. “And then what Barbara? We lose our time together. We may never get this chance again. You know how hard things have been and this is our reprieve.”
“Bill, what if this is our road to Jericho instead? Mama always said that the two things in the world that require the greatest risk, are love and compassion. The Samaritan helped the injured man. He took the risk, he showed compassion.”
The car hummed along, another hundred feet. Two. Then three.
Slowly, Barbara could hear the gears change as the car came to a halt.
Bill paused ever so briefly…
before turning around.
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