Magic Moon Night By Frank Chace

I had just finished the 5th grade and, as such, the arousing thoughts of young ladies did not figure very much in my day-to-day thoughts. I said, it did not figure very much but that doesn’t mean that my mind was completely devoid of thinking about some of the young ladies who lived along my street in Touisset. In fact, when I was with my boy friends, we sometimes wondered what it would be like to spy on them when they were putting on their bathing suits in the club house shower room. We even considered drilling a hole in the wall of their shower to satisfy our curiosity, but we never did.

I also have to admit that I tried to cheat a little when playing spin the bottle, because there were two girls I wanted to kiss more than others. As luck would have it, it seemed like I was always kissing Aly Sherman who could throw a baseball as far as I could. She was good at all sports, but sure didn’t act lady like as did the other girls. She never wore perfume, and her hair was always tied up in a knot on the top of her head. She always wore a worn baseball cap that flopped over one side of her head. Her button down oxford shirt was never tucked in. Further, she was quick to react to get the kiss over with as fast as possible which I found mutually agreeable.

It was the Fourth of July morning when I rode my bike down to the Old Stone Pier. It was going to be a busy day starting with a morning regatta that lasted just over three hours. This was followed by a clambake, a Horribles Parade (a parade made up of people who lived in Touisset, all dressed horribly) and later in the evening, a dance at the yacht club. Most of the small Beetle boats were pulled up on the shore near the pier, and the teenagers who crewed this class of sailboat were beginning to gather in small groups near their boats. I spotted two of the girls that I thought met the requirement for peeking into their shower room, and I decided to meet up with them. They were Sally Brown and Joan Kitchen.

I also noticed a third girl sitting on the bow of the boat who I had never seen before. She was wearing a white, two piece bathing suit with hair almost the same color. After the hellos were exchanged, Sally introduced me to her friend, Zola Howard, who would be crewing with her that day. It was immediately obvious to me that Zola was a cut above my two friends. She had some kind of a classy look the caused me to stare at her, and, in fact, made me a little nervous, if not tongue tied. Two-piece bathing suits were not unusual; but in Zola’s case, she seemed to fill one out the way they were supposed to be. While Sally and Joan were just beginning to show that they needed a bra, there was no doubt that this girl needed one. She was so fair; she did not have much of a tan, but that which she did have was clearly visible in a line across her rather young, sexy breast clearly visible in a somewhat loose bathing suit bra.

I guess I was too embarrassed to carry on any lengthy conversation with her. I had the feeling that I was staring at her, so I just talked to my two friends, wishing all the while that I was going to get to know Zola better.

As the time for the race drew near, I looked around for Skippy Banks whom I was going to sail with. I had crewed with him before, and always enjoyed his company, but he was not known for being punctual. I decided to take off my shirt, and swim out to his boat which was named Butter Cup. The boat was moored near the Stone Pier as his house was right across the street from it.

About fifteen minutes before the race started, I saw Skippy dive in the water, and head for the boat. Although he owned a dingy, he had made it available to other sailors who may have a need for one.

“Cutting it a little close”, I said as he climbed in. “But, we’re all ready to go”. I had the one gaff sail, peculiar to a Beetle, up, and just luffin’ in the light air.

“Slept late and had to make my own breakfast. My folks went to Providence to a funeral.”

Once underway, we headed right for the starting line which we crossed as the gun was fired. There were seventeen Beetles in the race. Skippy had a pair of binoculars aboard so I started to look around at various boats in the race knowing full well I was looking for Sally’s boat. And there they were, just about last. I could see Zola, and wished I was sailing in that boat.

That night there was a dance at the yacht club. I arrived and saw Sally, Steffie and Zola sitting on the porch rail. Zola was wearing a white cotton dress, off the shoulders and, as I looked around, I concluded that she was the best looking girl in sight.

I asked her to be my partner in a shuffle board game, and she proved to be an excellent player. She told me she had never played before, but I could see that she was well coordinated in addition to be so well put together.

Later, I danced with her a few times but, by now, every guy in the club, about my age, had that idea too.

So that’s how I met Zola…in the summer of 1940.

During the next few years, I saw her off and on, mostly on Saturday mornings at the Durfee movie theatre. I always said hello or waved if she was not near by. On a couple of occasions, I sat near her during the movie and after the show was over, I invited her to go to the Nonpareil for a coke and ice cream. She was always with a girl friend, but I found talking to her came easy and she never seemed to be in a hurry to leave.

During my sophomore year of high school, I got my driver’s license and I had started going steady with a girl in my class. She was a cheerleader, a very good looking brunet and a very popular girl. I was really taken with her and I knew that I was lucky to be dating her.

There was one time during the winter that we went skating on the Swansea Dam and it just so happened that Zola was there with a boy from Fall River whom I recognized as quite an athlete at Durfee High. I had seen his picture several times in the newspaper. We did not play Durfee in any sports, but Durfee was Fall River’s largest high school and their athletes got quite a bit of athletic publicity.

I had also heard that Zola was a cheerleader there, and it had been sometime since I saw her, but there was no difficulty recognizing her as she went skating by. I yelled out her name, and started skating towards her. For what ever reason, just as I reached her, she stumbled, and I reached out and pulled her to me. There was a brief moment of silence as I looked into her eyes and hugged her firmly.

“My, my,” she said, “This is a Magic Moon Night!”

“What does that mean?” I said as I helped her become steady on her skates. She was wearing a white fur coat with a matching fur hat. My first impression was that she was more beautiful that ever, and I was happy to see her again.

“Oh! That ‘s just a special secret of mine,” she replied. “How good it is to see you again, and you’re with Connie I see.”

They had been freshman together at Durfee before Connie transferred to Case High in Swansea.

As we skated away, Connie said, “The way you looked into her eyes while you were holding her up did not go unnoticed!”

“Hey, I was more surprised than anyone to have her so close. We’re just good friends, and have been so since grammar school days. I thought you knew that. You’re still the one and only for me!”

During my senior year, my Dad had been elected to Superintendent of Schools, in Gardner, Mass. about 45 miles from Swansea. I didn’t get back to Swansea very often because of the high school sports I was involved with. Almost every weekend there was a game somewhere that precluded the drive back to Swansea and Fall River to see Connie.

However, a couple of weeks before Christmas in 1946, my Grandmother Chace became quite ill, and the family went to visit her in Fall River. We stayed several days, and on one of the days, I called Zola up to see how she was. We had not talked for quite some time, and during the conversation she asked if I was still going with Connie. I told her it was less than “a go steady” relationship because of my move to Gardner, but I did see her whenever I could. This week she was skiing in Vermont with her family.

Before the conversation was over, I told her I would be in the city until the following Monday, and would she like to go out. She told me that she was free on Saturday night and we agreed to go to a small road house in Newport call Luke’s Lodge.

I frankly couldn’t wait to see her, yet I was a little nervous when I drove up to house. We had never dated before, and I began to think of things to say.

Her Dad met me at the front door and I was surprised when he exclaimed, “Well if it isn’t Frankie Chace! Not many people called me “Frankie” and although I knew who he was, I was not expecting that sort of a greeting.

Mr. Howard was a well know attorney in Fall River and very much involved in local politics.

“Do you know I dated your Mother a few times in high school?”

I told him that I was not aware of that. “Your Father played in the high school band with me. My wife and your Mother were a class behind. I even took her to Oak Bluffs one time on the ferry. She was as sweet as they come!”

As we walked into the living room, I saw Zola coming down the stairs. Her Father was still talking, but I didn’t hear a word he said. She was wearing a black dress with a white lace collar hanging loosely off her shoulders. Around her neck was a pearl cross. The dress was tight fitting and I new it would remain a difficult memory to forget.

“Is he still telling stories about your family? That’s all he’s been talking about since supper. I do remember seeing your Mother in Touisset, but I didn’t know my Father was so taken with her. She is a pretty lady!”

I could tell she was anxious to get going, and as I helped her put on her fur coat, the smell of her perfume was almost overcoming.

As we left the front door and started down to the stairs, she took hold of my right arm and held on very tightly.

“I remembered how tall you were so I am wearing heels, which might not be too smart with some snow, and ice still on the ground.”

Her long blond hair brushed across my face as her head was practically on my shoulder and light of the full moon and a close by street light highlighted the smoothness and doll like features of her pretty face.

“Good night to go skating,” I said. “Been quite a long time since I last saw you. The night we went skating on the Swansea Dam.”

“I’m sure glad you called. Actually, I had a date, but I haven’t seen you in so long, I was curious what you would be like. I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to say it that way, it sounds self serving, but I did think it was great that you would ask me out. We have known each other for so many years, but it’s always been “hello…goodbye”.

I opened the car door, and held on to her arm, and as she turned to sit down, she paused and said, “Frank, it’s a Magic Moon Night!”

“Funny,” I said. “That’s the second time you have said that to me!”

She laughed and said, “Get in and I’ll tell you why.”

As we drove off she moved over close to me and held my right arm tightly in her hands. “You see this is a Magic Moon Night, full moon and just a little bit of snow falling from the sky. It has to be doing both to be magic. It doesn’t happen very often, but when it does, it brings back great memories of the winter I spent in Switzerland,” she continued on. “I went there on a French language scholarship for four months and my dormitory was on the top floor facing the Alps. Just once or twice there was a full moon with a light snow falling and I would move my bed so I could snuggle up under the heavy comforters and watch the moon come up and light up each peak of the Alps. I was like God doing one his paintings and for a few moments or two; he was sharing his goodness with me. It was such a blessing!”

“Well, you have your blessing tonight. The moon is so bright on the Bay that it’s almost like we could walk across the water on the rippled reflection.”

I was thinking inwardly how silly I had been trying to think up subjects of conversation that I would need to pass the time. Her sing–song voice went from one subject to another and all too soon we were pulling into the parking lot at Luke’s Lodge.

I couldn’t help but notice four motorcycles alongside each other at the front door. That bothered me somewhat because motorcycles were not common in Fall River or Swansea, but there were motorcycle gangs in New Bedford that caused crime problems frequently. Hoping there would be no trouble, we went inside. It was warm and the smell of pine logs burning in the fireplace was comforting. The four motorcycle guys were sitting at the bar, and as we crossed the dance floor, one yelled out, “Hey Zola! When do I get my turn? Those Durfee guys don’t know how to hump a cheerleader properly. How about later tonight?”

“Do you know them?” I asked her.

“Have no idea who they are but probably from the high school in New Bedford. We play them in every sport.”

“Do you want to leave?” I asked.

“Not at all. I like it here” Zola replied.

Although we were teen agers, most of the local night clubs and restaurants in Bristol County served cocktails without regard for being 21 years old. Young service men also had access to hard liquor and there were few very problems resulting from teen age drinking. In and around Newport, not far from Luke’s Lodge, Military Police kept law and order for thousands of young sailors on visiting ships.

I ordered Canadian Club and Ginger Ale which came in tall ice filled glasses with a small paper umbrella on top. It was sweet tasting and lasted a long time. As I looked across the table, I was mesmerized by the dancing reflections of the fireplace on her pure white skin, and the way she moved her head from side to side while focusing her wide blues eyes on me.

There were two other couples sitting at a table nearby. Each was wearing a lobster bib around their neck, and they were busy pulling apart what appeared to be two pound lobsters.

When we got up to dance to a favorite Glenn Miller song, the “biker” who had been watching Zola slid off his chair and began moving our way. His friends, however, reached out, and pulled him back onto his seat.

I’m not sure Zola was aware of his move towards her because she was humming the song, and I could see her eyes were closed. But when the song was over, she said she had to go to the “Ladies Room” and walked off down a hallway.

As I was sitting down, I noticed the “biker’s” seat at the bar was empty. It occurred to me that that was not a good sign, but for the moment I hoped all was OK.

After a few minutes, I decided to walk down the hall and make sure Zola was safe. I noticed the “Ladies Room” door was half open and that didn’t seem right. I stopped and I could hear what sounded to be the thumping of feet. At the end of the hall was another closed door, and I moved down towards it. The thumping was louder and I could just make out the desperate, faint sound of a muffled voice. The door was locked so I moved back a few feet and kicked it open.

There was Zola, on the floor lying in a cardboard box of half filled tissues. She had a red cloth stuffed in her mouth and there was some blood running down right shoulder. Her dress was well up around her waist and her panty leg was noticeably pulled down towards her knees. The “biker” was on her with either one or both of his legs between hers. There was no doubt that he was in the process of raping her.

Next to the door was a garden shovel with a “yoke” handle. I picked it up, turned it sideways, and brought it down as hard as I could in the middle of his back. He groaned, and rolled over on the floor ending up on his back. He began to shake uncontrollably.

I took what was red napkin out of Zola’s mouth and she was crying and half screaming at the same time. Tears rolled down her face and she brought one hand up to cover her eyes, and with other she was trying to pull her panties back up her leg.

“Oh, Frank!” she screamed, “He tried to rape me!”

I reached down and cradled her head in my arms. “You’re right. He tried to rape you but he didn’t!” I could see that his zipper was still closed, but there appeared to be a large stain of semen in that area.

Although I was yelling for help, no one showed up. I finally picked up a half filled bottle of cleaning fluid, and threw it out through the door against the wall. That attracted attention, and the bar tender and a chef arrived. The chef turned out to be the owner.

The cops were called, and as we waited I used a small first aid kit to clear the lengthy scratch down her right shoulder. Her cross was missing and it looked like it might have jerked it off her neck.

When the cops arrived, the whole scene turned into bedlam. They called for an ambulance and wanted Zola to go to the hospital, but she refused. There was no question that the “biker” had to go as it was obvious to all that he was critically hurt and undergoing some sort of short, jerky spasms.

“I’m OK,” Zola repeated. “He didn’t do what he tried to do and except for a sore shoulder, I want to go home!” The small storage room was soon packed with people. Zola remained stretched out in the cardboard box since there were no chairs in the room. I recovered her pearl cross from the bottom of the box, and she told me to hold onto it. She said that he ripped it off her neck when he threw her down.

I looked at my watch and it had been about 45 minutes since I kicked the door down. The paramedics would not move the “biker” until a doctor was present, and he was on the way. They knew he was hurt badly, but did not want to move him without a doctor present.

The chef (owner) pleaded with Zola to go to the hospital. He was concerned about a law suit being put on Luke’s Lodge for this incident. She had already signed a paper for the ambulance men denying the opportunity to go to the hospital although they recommended it. They had collectively agreed that she had not been sexually violated although the attempt was clearly evident.

The cops took us out into a corner of the dinning room and quizzed Zola, and me about the whole affair, including our names, addresses, etc. By then it was 10:30, and a lot had happened since we walked through the door.

It was difficult to concentrate on the conversation with the officers. From where I was sitting, I watched a large size oxygen bottle taken down the hallway. Then some sort of an electronic device was wheeled in. It also looked like two more doctors arrived.

Finally, they said we could go with the provision that I make myself available on Sunday to sign and correct any statements that I had made tonight. They told me that I would be picked up by a policeman and transported to wherever the statement would be signed.

On our way to the car, Zola stopped and took both my arms. “Frank, I cannot tell you how lucky I am to have you with me, I can’t imagine what it would have been like if you had not stopped that guy. How did you know what was going on back there? What made you think I was in trouble?”

“I just had a feeling about that guy, and that he might be up to some trouble. When you left and I saw his seat was empty, so I decided to go looking for you.”

“How did you get him off me?”

“I hit him with a shovel, and I think he’s hurt pretty badly.”

“Well, whatever the consequences, I owe so much to you! All girls are aware of the possible consequences of being raped and these memories, and possible resulting actions can last a lifetime!”

The ride back to Fall River was without much conversation. She rested her head on my shoulder, but every few minutes she would lean forward, and move her shoulders as if scratching her back.

“Are you OK?” I asked.

“Yes, I’m fine. I think I have something sticking into my back.”

As we reached the top her street, she told me go on down to the South Park. “I’m not ready to go home yet. We really haven’t had a chance to talk.”

I had played baseball many times at the South Park and drove the car up on to the ball field facing the moon, and the river.

“Some magic moon night this has been,” she said. “But God still took care of me.”

“Would you mind if I got out of the car a moment and fixed whatever is sticking in to me.” And with that she opened the door, and put her coat on the front seat. Her back was toward me and I was amazed at how girls could reach up into the middle of their backs with both hands. I noticed she was a little slow using the left arm. She unzipped the top of her dress, and then tried opening her bra.

After a minute or two she said, “You’ve got to help me.”

I went around to the side and she was now facing the river.

“I think he tried to pull my bra off, but I can’t loosen it. Can you see what the matter is?”

The moon and street lights provided all the light that was needed, and I could see the clasp had been twisted and a small piece of the metal was scratching and kind of stuck in her skin. The blood, what little there was of it, had dried.

“No problem,” I told her. “Looks like he twisted and broke your clasp. Let me get my first aid kit out of the trunk. There’s hardly any blood but it will protect your dress.”

When I returned, her back was bare to the waist. “I hope you don’t think that this is part of my dating routine!”

Although her arms were crossed in front of her, her bare breasts were clearly visible. “As a matter of fact, Frank Chace, you are only the second man to witness this embarrassing moment. The other belongs to a Swiss Army doctor who helped me in a ski accident in Switzerland.”

“I suppose it’s a privilege to be a committee of two as concerns your physical revelation, but in a sense, they really haven’t gone unnoticed since I first met you in Touisett. It is a subject of conversation with other boys but I’m not prepared to go on with it at this point.”

“I respect you for that. Incidentally, the next man that gets to see me in this condition will be my husband.”

“That presents an interesting situation. You don’t know who you are going to marry, and some lucky guy, somewhere, doesn’t know what he’s currently missing.”

I helped her put her coat back on, and told her we were heading for home as the snow was beginning to come down quite heavily, and she lived on such a step hill.

As we pulled up to her house, we saw two Rhode Island police cars parked in front.

“What do you suppose they want?”

I stopped the car, and as soon as I had turned out the lights, Mr. Howard came down the steps with a flashlight in hand. At the top of the stairs was Mrs. Howard, three police officers, and some other gentlemen.

I couldn’t hear the conversation between Mr. Howard and Zola, but as I approached them, I could see tears rolling down his cheeks, and they were hugging each other.

We went into the house and into the large dining room. Mr. Howard said that some that information about the “rapist” was quite important the three States involved and that the law officials needed that information now,

Three of the cops were from Rhode Island (all of whom Zola and I had met); one was from Fall River, and as was with a State Attorney from Massachusetts. A remaining gentleman was a doctor friend of the Howard’s and had been invited over because of the family’s concern.

The State Attorney stood up, and apologizing for the late hour said the information he needed was needed now for the following reason: the person who had tried to rape Zola had two rape charges pending against him, plus a murder charge of another woman. His name was Mike Rego from New Bedford, a high school drop out, noted for drug activities. The most important question at this moment was: did Zola or I know of him? Had we ever met him or any other member of the four, and in essence did we have any personal knowledge of the four, particularly Mr. Rego?

Without hesitation, Zola began to answer the questions. She acknowledged that the one called Rego referred to her as being a cheerleader, so she assumed he was from a local high school, but not Durfee.

Although I was from Gardner, they knew I had lived in Swansea, but I also said that I had no knowledge nor had I ever seen any of the four until tonight.

I carried on with the testimony of the sequence of events for about another half hour. I was then asked to be available at 11:00 A.M. the next morning to sign a formal statement, with the help of a court recorder and attorney at the court house in Fall River. They knew I was planning to return to Gardner on Monday. A similar recorder and attorney would show up at the Howard’s house 2:00 P.M. on Sunday.

Sunday proved to be one of the most hectic days of my lifetime. The attorney arrived at my Grandmother’s house and spent a half hour or so talking to my Mother and Father about the ramifications of the attempted rape. However, as the day went on, the history of the Mr. Rego and his friends got more, and more involved.

They were a motorcycle gang numbered at least twelve, perhaps more. Their name was the “Black Daggers” and they were identified by Black Daggers painted on their helmets and leather coats.

When we reached the court house more was to come. Four of the members were wanted on rape charges, two were up for murder charges and one was being investigated for raping a twelve year old girl wherein her neck had been broken.

Once the news of the incident went over through the police electronic network, more criminal charges were made known by Connecticut and Maine, and agents were being sent to Fall River for firsthand information.

There were six people in the court room and the official from Maine was on his way. The attorney, who picked me up, Jack Wilcox, seemed to be in charge. He went over the history of my family, my reasons for being in Fall River and the asked detailed questions about my relationship with Zola.

The stenographer sat behind me and twice asked about my name being spelled “Chace”.

The attorney from Maine arrived and Mr. Wilcox went over the events up until then. His name was Mr. North, and he said the gang was suspected of murdering and robbing two elderly people on an island off the coast of Maine.

Although the disposition seemed over, the court officials decided to visit the scene of the crime at Luke’s Lodge and to go over each event with me. It was covered in detail, including how I grabbed, and hit Rego with the blade of the shovel. Describing the scene was embarrassing as I remembered the body position and torn clothing of Zola. I could clearly recollect the frantic expression on her face and the attack Mr. Rego was making on her body.

Later, I saw Mr. Wilcox taking to the employees especially the chef and owner whose voice was very excitable.

We later returned to the court house where I signed the final copy of the deposition. It was almost 6 P.M. when I got home.

I made a call to check on Zola as I knew she would be interested in what happened. Her own deposition lasted over an hour. She also made a trip to the hospital for an x-ray to her right shoulder, but no damage was evident.

Before hanging up, she asked that my family drop by her house for a small lunch before leaving for Gardner. Her family was anxious to renew such an old acquaintance, and for other obvious reasons.

We arrived at Zola’s house at 11.00 A.M. the next morning and there were lots of “hugging’s and kissing’s”, and quite a few tears.

Coffee was served. Before he sat down, Mr. Howard said he had a few words to say.

“Who would think back in1923 that we, as two families, would be brought together under the most unlikely of circumstances as has happened over the past three days. Circumstances that are fierce in nature, will never be forgotten but which we can thank God in the ultimate outcome. I mentioned to young Frank that when you have a daughter that is so well known, and as popular as Zola; the thought of someone trying to take advantage of her against her will is for ever present in the mind of a family, especially the Father. It even crossed my mind, Friday night, as the two of them went out that Zola would return safely as I have wished for on many other occasions. Little did I expect that the night would turn into such tragic moment for her or that the outcome would involve the incarceration of so many criminals that are heading for where they rightfully belong, …away from society.”

“And we owe all this to one person, who in spite of placing himself in harm’s way; will be blessed for life from thankful people who will never know him. Who knows what the future might have brought forward to unsuspecting others without the actions taken by Frank. Who knows what could have happened to my daughter’s personality or bodily happenings had this rape taken place.”

“Alice and Frank Chace you have every right to take great pride in your son. This morning’s newspaper is just beginning to provide the recognition he deserves. I am sure it will expand his heroism as the news goes forward.”

“From my part and that of my family, I can only thank you from the bottom of our hearts, and ask that God’s blessings be with you always.”

The conversation then turned to my parents and the ‘good old days.’ Zola took my arm and we moved into the living room.

She sat me down in what appeared to be her Father’s favorite chair and pulled a foot rest up in front of me.

“You’re eyes are brown I see!”

“Yes, so they are. Why is that significant?”

“It’s significant because this morning in church, I thought to myself; I wonder what color his eyes are. We went to the early Communion as a family, and I don’t remember a word of it. All I could think of was”what happened”? I had half a drink, a comfortable slow dance and the next thing I know, I’m in some box with some guy intent on taking my virginity. Then for two days there are questions, the telephone never stopped and my Mother and Father were treating me like I was a 5 year old again. Not that this bothered me but my mind was all confused. I was so happy when you asked for a date after knowing you so briefly for so many years. I guess it was more curiosity than anything. As it is, I know nothing about you, there was any chance to talk. I’m afraid right now your parents will come through the door, and I won’t have learned a thing about you. I do know you sail and that you play sports, and are good in each one. I saw your picture in the Herald’s News one time that you made Eagle Scout but that’s about it!”

“Well let’s see. I know one thing about you that only one other guy can lay claim to.”

“You can stop right there. That’s not what I had in mind!”

“OK. I am taking college courses in high school and have applied for an appointment to the Naval Academy this summer. If I get the appointment, and pass the exam, I will become a Plebe in June. I have never wanted to go any place else but it is competitive.”

“Are you smart?”

“Probably not as smart as you, but I make the Honor Society.”

“What makes you think I’m smart?”

“You accepted my date for one thing.”

“You’re right. That was smart!”

“And what about you, school that is.”

“I leave for Switzerland in July for a summer course in German. I’d like to get into the Diplomatic Corps. I could go all year, but I want to return to go to Wellesley.”

“So when do you might think we will meet in the school year?”

“Not very likely” I said. There are no vacations or dating during the Plebe Year and then there’s a summer cruise to somewhere.”

“Guess we’ll just have to see,” Zola said.

About that time the parents came into the room, so we off to Gardner.

“Just a minute,” Zola said. I need to show Frank something in the kitchen.

I followed her out into the pantry and behind the door; she grabbed me and gave me a long tight kiss. Her tongue slipped into my mouth and she groaned ever so lightly slightly as she moved her body slowly in front of me.

“I just can’t imagine after all we went through, I did not even get a peck on the cheek. That will have to last!”

Several times in the Spring I was called to testify at the trial of the Black Daggers. Mr. Rego was never present. I had severed his spinal cord when I hit him, and he was paralyzed from the waist down.

“Funny,” Mr. Wilcox said to me one day, “you actually saved Rego’s life… when you hit him. He would have been caught, and executed for rape and murder. Four of his friends are getting the chair. He will spend the rest of his life in a Federal Hospital getting all the help the State can provide.”

Later in the spring, my Mother said the Herald News had published a schedule of graduations in Fall River for June. I had been invited by Connie to attend her’s on June 6 and noticed that Durfee would graduate on June 4th.

I had no real contact with Zola, and as I sat there, I decided to go to her ceremony. She was selected as Valedictorian and was receiving three other scholarships; one in athletics and two in foreign languages.

My family had no objections, but mentioned that I had no invitation. I told them I would find away and I did not intend to tell her that I would be there.

I drove to Fall River the afternoon of the 4th and stopped at my Grandmother’s. I intended to stay there that night.

The ceremony was scheduled for 7:00 in the evening. I parked my car and walked into a side entrance where most of the graduates were assembling. There were places for a large orchestra in front of the stage. All had music sheets set up in front of each chair. At the far end, near the piano were two seats with no music, so I sat there.

The graduation began with the playing of “Pomp and Ceremony” and graduates started marching in. Honor graduates were up front so Zola was about the 15th to enter. Where she sat down, she was unable to see me,

Her speech as Valedictorian received a standing ovation. Not unexpectedly did she use the phrase of “Magic Moon Night.” She related this to the fact that only once in a while did a Full Moon happen when light snow fell around it. When it did happen, students should recognize it as something special and take any opportunity offered to them at that time. It was a gift from God.

After the ceremony I left through the front door not expecting to see her there. As I reached the bottom step, she was standing right there.

“What are you doing here? Oh! My! Why didn’t you tell me you were coming?”

“This is your graduation, and I just couldn’t miss the opportunity of seeing you. I couldn’t take the chance of missing what you might say and you didn’t disappoint me.”

“Gosh I’d much rather be with you, but I have this date and dinner to attend.”

“That’s why I didn’t tell you. This is your night with your class.”

“Oh Frank. I’m so sorry. I think of you so often…more so than you’ll ever know. Maybe I can just sneak you along.”

“No, that won’t do for this occasion.”

“What about the Academy,” she asked.

“I have to be there in two weeks.”

“I leave for Switzerland next week.”

“Maybe we can work something out some day.”

“Zola, we are late,” someone called from across the yard.

“I’ve got to go and don’t want to!”

She was crying just a little bit as she started walking away only to run back and kiss me like she did once before. She then disappeared into the crowd.

I never saw or heard from Zola again!

THE END