The Summer of Ian

Memories

JUNE:1941
“Daddy!” Brooke smiled at her father as he lowered his newspaper. Her smile faded however when she noted his grim face. “ What is it?” She asked. “You’re a smart girl. Read it yourself.” He handed her the newspaper and the headline read:

NEW YORK TIMES
June 1941
Rationing has been introduced not to deprive you of your real needs, but to make more certain that you get your share of the country’s goods- to get fair shares with everybody else.
When the shops re-open you will be able to buy cloth, clothes, footwear, and knitting wool only if you bring your food ration book with you. The shopkeeper will detach the required number of coupons from the unused margarine page. Each margarine coupon counts as one coupon towards the purchase of clothing and footwear. You will have a total of 66 coupons to last you a year, so go sparingly. You can buy what you like and when you like without registering.


         A boy held her hand. They ran hand in hand through the poppy field. She smiled and felt immensely free. His gaze held hers and they turned toward each other and the boy handed her a poppy bouquet he had picked. He leaned down and kissed her softly. His thick brown hair fell into his eyes and she was filled with an extreme passion. She reached for another kiss but he lay a finger against her lips. Shaking his head he found her hand and they ran towards the old oak on the far side of the field. She laughed hysterically as the rain began to pour. Smiling the boy pulled her under the oak and kissed her cheeks over and over again. They traced the heart they carved in the base of the old tree and tears ran down his cheeks. “I have to go back home tomorrow and you start school.” “Oh Ian, I don’t have to go to school!” she protested but he sighed. “Yes. Yes you do. I would never forgive myself if you didn’t. A country boy doesn’t deserve as much as you have given me.” “Ian!” He cut her off, “No Brooke. I love you.” “Promise to write!” she cried and a smile danced his across his face. “Everyday.” he swore and took her hand. “Everyday.” he whispered again and they shared a last passionate kiss. Brooke leaned against the tree as she watched Ian walk across the poppy field and tears ran down her cheeks. He got into his rusty truck and started down the muddy road. “No!” she screamed and jumped up, running with all her might to the truck. She chased it down the road but it never stopped. She lay in the road crying and looked down at her hands. She was still holding the poppy bouquet.


         “Brooke? Brooke!” the shouts pulled her from her daydream. “Oh! Sorry daddy. This is horrible! Rationing our clothes? ” “Yes. No more designer dresses.” He took the newspaper from her and folded it into squares frowning. “I should write Ian.” She said and the lines in her fathers face deepened. “You still write to that boy?” he asked and her face grew scarlet. “I do. Oh please don’t tell Mama! Please!” Her father’s face softened as he looked at his only daughter “Your just writing him. Why on earth would I tell your mother who you write to? It’s none of our business!” “Oh daddy I love you!” she squealed and hugged him tightly. “Okay that’s enough.” he said as a smile danced on his face “Go write Ian!” Giggling she kissed his cheek and ran upstairs singing.