Courage and Intrigue in Wartime San Francisco
Historical Fiction
Date Published: December 10, 2024
Publisher: Acorn Publishing
When bombs fall on Pearl Harbor, the trajectory of Faye Baxter’s
midwestern life takes an unexpected detour. Her fiancé Steve Connor
enlists in the Army, and Faye follows him to California for a
spur-of-the-moment wedding just days before he ships out.
Eager to contribute to the war effort, Faye joins the workforce in San
Francisco, a city awash with jobs, handsome soldiers, cheap cocktails, and
nefarious secrets. When she is recruited to serve as a courier for a
government intelligence agency, the assignment leads her into a web of
misogyny, deception, and espionage.
Will she learn to trust her instincts, value her own opinions, and raise
her voice against injustice? Or are the risks too great?
EXCERPT
UNEXPECTED DETOUR
Courage and Intrigue in Wartime San Francisco
Thirty-nine hours and 45 minutes later, Faye and Midge stepped onto the platform at Oakland’s 16th Street Station. Suitcases in hand, they caught the connector streetcar to the ferry for the final leg of their trip into San Francisco. The train journey was already a blur of packed cars, lines for the rest rooms, bad food, raucous laughter, and endless cigarettes. Civilians and soldiers alike sat on luggage in the aisles. The girls gave up their sleeping berth to a pregnant woman and her two young children, and they spent the 1,850 miles from Chicago surrounded by sweaty young men in various stages of inebriation..
Now the fresh breeze off the bay hit Faye’s groggy face. She gulped in the crisp, briny air until her head was scrubbed clean of the dull ache caused by too little sleep and too many sips of whiskey from flasks of unknown origin. She was here, albeit rumpled and a bit rank. And, if all went well, she would be with Steve this weekend.
Despite the day being chilly by Bay Area standards, it was downright balmy compared to Chicago. The sunshine prompted the girls to purchase cups-a-joe at the ferry’s snack bar and head to the upper deck.
“We did it,” said Midge as they cast off.
“Yes, we did, sister.” Faye smiled as she sipped her coffee. “And I may never go back. Look at this. The folks back home would be pea green with envy if they could see what I’m seeing.”
The clear sky was reflected by the water, making the entire estuary a perfect shade of aquamarine. As they passed under the Bay Bridge, the San Francisco skyline spread out before them. The Ferry Building and Embarcadero bustled with people, trucks and streetcars. Faye recognized Coit Tower and Nob Hill (so often appearing in movies), studded with elegant hotel buildings. To the west, the Golden Gate Bridge spanned the entrance to the bay like a lazy smile, as if to delude the entire nation that everything beyond would be just fine. Faye knew full well that these bright orange towers were the last glimpse of America for thousands of boys headed for war.
As they entered the shipping channel, a gust of wind lifted Faye’s beret. In the split second she grabbed for it, her coffee went over the railing. Horrified, she peered down at a man sporting a splotch down the shoulder and sleeve of his well-tailored trench coat. He stared up at them, bewildered at first, then broke into a gradual smile.
“Sorry!” Faye yelled, then bolted down the stairs to the lower deck, Midge close behind.
“I am so sorry,” Faye gushed to the victim as they emerged on the main deck. Midge, in the meantime, found her hankie in her purse. “Allow me,” she said. Not
waiting for a response, she started to daub the man’s shoulder.
“It was really a comedy of errors up there,” said Faye as Midge continued to daub. “My hat blew off, and before I knew it, my coffee just went flying.”
“No worries. With a little more focus, you’d be excellent in the gun turret.”
Well, at least he isn’t angry.
It was only then she noticed how nice looking he was—and was surprised by a twinge of guilt.
Stop it. I’m NOT being disloyal to Steve just because I think this total stranger is nice looking. It’s not like I’ll ever see him again. What is that lilt in his voice? Does he have an accent? Never mind. Don’t think about his voice. Or his dimples.
EXCERPT FROM PAGE 160 (745 words)
Faye emerged from Della’s Market, her net tote bag heavy with canned milk, peanut butter, margarine and some apples, and headed home on Bush Street. She was about to turn up Kearney when she heard some breaking glass and a muffled cry for help from Belden Alley. She made her way quickly and silently to the intersection and carefully peered into the alley, assaulted by the aggressive stench of garbage and urine. It took a second for what she was witnessing to register.
One sailor lounged against the wall, holding a bottle of whiskey, smoking a cigar and rubbing his crotch. Another had a young girl pinned against the wall, his hand covering her mouth. The girl was dressed in expensive silk, her lip split and bruised, her fine Chinese features contorted with fear. As she looked over the sailor’s shoulder, her eyes made contact with Faye in a silent plea for help.
“Hey!” Faye shouted, not considering for a split second that she might also be in danger. “Leave her alone!”
Startled, both sailors jerked around and looked at Faye, then traded glances and sniggered.
“Well, lookie here, Howie,” said Sailor Cigar. “This party is one girl short and here’s a babe just when we needed one. You’re an answer to our wishes, Blondie.”
As the sailor circled around Faye and backed her into the alley, her memory flashed back to something her mother told her when she started working at the law firm—and knew instantly what she would do. She slowly backed further into the alley as she gave Sailor Cigar her most alluring smile.
“Well, this could be your lucky night, sailor,” she said in a voice as low and sexy as she could manage. “How do you like it? Nice and rough? Slow and deep?”
Mesmerized, Sailor Cigar took a deep swig of whiskey and leered at Faye’s breasts.
Wham, bam!!
In a flash, Faye jammed her knee as hard as she could into Sailor Cigar’s groin. As he crumpled at her feet, she swung her tote bag with all her might, thankful for Della’s two-for-the-price-of-one sale on canned milk as it made contact with the side of Sailor Howie’s face, knocking him out cold on the pavement.
With that, she grabbed the girl’s hand, ran with her out onto Bush Street and didn’t stop until they were plumb out of breath.
“Dang, you should take up martial arts, sister.” the Chinese girl said, her voice pure California without a trace of an accent.
“Are you all right?” Faye asked through her panting.
“Yeah, I think so. A little bruised.”
“Would you recognize those guys again? Do you want to make a police report?”
“No way,” she said with certainty. “The cops would just say I was asking for it. I know how white cops treat my community.”
“Listen, I live really close by. Let’s get you some coffee and some ice for that lip.”
“Yeah, that would be great. I’m Madeline Chu, by the way.”
“Faye Connor,” Faye responded.
“Well, if you don’t mind. I’m going to call you Fearless Faye, Warrior-Goddess!”
*****
Madeline Chu sat at the kitchen table, a tea towel of ice against her lip. Hannah and Evie set out some coffee, eager to get the scoop.
“How did you get hooked up with those sailors?” asked Faye.
“Yeah, that was really stupid. I know better, believe me. I was out with my friend, Christie, and things got out of hand. We were all dancing and had way too much to drink. I’m not sure when Christie decided to vamoose, but I wasn’t thinking straight, and I remember the sailors saying they would show me their ship.”
“Ship, indeed!” said Hannah as her cup clattered in its saucer. “They really wanted to show you their ‘torpedoes,’ if you get my drift.”
“Yeah, I’m such a lamebrain. I’m just lucky Fearless Faye here happened to walk by and had the guts to give it to ‘em good.”
“Look, you’re young, but you learned a valuable lesson for the price of a split lip,
said Faye. “Just remember that some men are creeps, and it’s not your fault.”
Evie immediately picked up on that train of thought. “There are lots of lessons here,” she said. “Don’t get drunk. Don’t go with someone you don’t know. Always have a friend with you… ”
“And if all else fails, kick them in the nuts,” Madeline added. “I got it, ladies.”
About the Author
Lynn Marie Jackson has spent many years engaged in the creative process
working as a marketing strategist, copywriter, podcast producer, blogger,
and novelist. Raised in California and Washington, DC, she is a long-time
San Francisco Bay Area resident. When not writing, she’s on the hunt
for inspiration; she can be found visiting museums, hiking new trails, or
exploring any place well outside her comfort zone.
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Instagram: @lmjauthor
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