After I wrote Ask AI: Describe Emily Auble's Life After the Death of Her Father In 1916, I realized that there was much more to be told about my grandmother. She had just experienced the death of her father, and decided to not return to school, and needed to work to help support herself and her mother.
And here we are in January 1917 with both Emily and Lyle after the high school dance (see Emily and Lyle's Story: The Dance). Lyle is age 25 and Emily is not attending high school at age 17, but they both work at Marston's Department Store in downtown San Diego and have friends and family who care about them.
I asked my AI Assistant Anthropic Claude to tell the story of Emily and Lyle after the dance and how a romance progressed, told from Lyle's experiences. Here is the story - the second chapter of Emily and Lyle's Story.
(AI NotebookLM infographic -- Emily and Lyle's Story: Romance in 1917)
Love in Wartime: Lyle and Emily, January-April
1917
Late January 1917 - A New Beginning
The Monday morning after the high school dance, Lyle Carringer
arrived at Marston's Department Store an hour early. He told himself
it was to get a head start on inventory reconciliation, but the truth
was simpler: he was hoping to see Emily Auble.
He didn't have to wait long. At precisely 8:45 AM, she walked
through the employee entrance with two other girls from the
salesgirls' department. She wore a simple navy skirt and white
shirtwaist, her brown hair pinned up neatly under a small hat. When
she spotted him standing near the time clock, her face lit up with
recognition.
"Good morning, Mr. Carringer," she said, her blue eyes
sparkling with something that might have been amusement.
"Lyle," he reminded her, acutely aware of the other
girls watching with interest. "Good morning, Miss Auble."
"Emily," she countered, matching his formal tone with a
slight smile.
They stood there for a moment, the other girls whispering and
giggling as they clocked in and headed to their departments. Lyle's
mind raced, searching for something to say that wouldn't sound
foolish.
An awkward silence fell between them. Other employees were
streaming in now, the morning shift beginning. Lyle knew he should
move along, get to his duties as floorwalker. But his feet seemed
rooted to the spot.
"I should—" they both said at the same time, then
laughed.
"Walk you to your department?" Lyle offered, surprising
himself with his boldness.
"I'd like that," Emily said.
February - Building Something New
Over the next weeks, a pattern emerged. Lyle would time his
morning rounds to pass by the gloves and accessories counter when
Emily was setting up her displays. They'd exchange a few
words—nothing deep, just observations about the weather or comments
about customers or gentle teasing about work. But those brief
conversations became the highlights of Lyle's days.
By mid-February, their coworkers had noticed. Charlie Morrison
cornered Lyle in the stockroom one afternoon, grinning like a cat
with cream.
"So," Charlie said, "the little high school girl
turned out to be worth getting to know, didn't she?"
Lyle felt his face flush. "I don't know what you mean."
"Oh, come on. Everyone's noticed you hanging around ladies'
accessories more than any other department. And Emily Auble's been
asking the other girls about you."
"She has?" Lyle tried to sound casual and failed
completely.
"Asked if you were seeing anyone. Asked how long you'd worked
here. Asked if you were..." Charlie paused dramatically, "a
gentleman."
"And what did they tell her?"
"That you're the most boring, responsible, rule-following
fellow at Marston's," Charlie said, then laughed at Lyle's
expression. "Which, apparently, is exactly what she wanted to
hear. Not all girls want exciting and dangerous, Lyle. Some of them
want steady and kind."
On a Thursday afternoon in late February, Lyle found more courage.
Emily's shift ended at five o'clock, the same time as his. As she
clocked out, he was waiting by the employee entrance, his heart
hammering.
"Miss Auble—Emily," he corrected quickly. "I was
wondering...that is, if you're not in a hurry to get home...might I
walk with you? To make sure you get there safely?"
Emily's smile was worth every nervous moment leading up to the
question. "I'd like that very much, Mr. Carringer. Lyle."
Evening Walks Begin
Hawthorn and First Streets was about a twenty-minute walk from
Marston's, and they filled every minute with conversation. Emily
talked about finishing her high school education, about helping her
widowed mother, about her dreams of maybe becoming a teacher someday
or perhaps a secretary in a professional office.
"I want to do something that matters," she said
earnestly as they walked through the cooling evening. "Not that
sales work doesn't matter—it does. But I want...more. Is that
terrible?"
"Not at all," Lyle assured her. "I understand
completely. I started at Marston's as a cash boy when I was fourteen.
I've worked my way up to floorwalker, and someday I hope to move into
the accounting office. There's nothing wrong with wanting to better
yourself."
They discovered they had more in common than he'd expected. Both
came from families of modest means. Both valued education and
self-improvement. Both felt the weight of responsibility for their
families—Lyle as an only child to aging parents, Emily as an only child helping
support her widowed mother.
"My mother came from Canada in 1889," Emily told him.
"She was so brave, crossing the border alone, making a new life
with her sister in Chicago. My mother wanted something better for
herself - that's why she came to America."
"My grandparents came from Pennsylvania," Lyle said. "My
father was born there, but they moved west to Iowa and Colorado, met
my mother in Kansas, and then came to San Diego after they married,
for opportunities. I was born right here in San Diego. Sometimes I
think about how much courage it took for them to leave everything
they knew."
When they reached the modest apartment on Hawthorn Street, Emily
hesitated at the gate. "Would you like to meet my mother? Just
briefly—I know you need to catch your trolley home."
Lyle's heart leapt. Meeting the family was significant, he knew.
It meant Emily saw this as more than casual friendship. "I'd be
honored."
Georgia (Kemp) Auble was expecting them—Emily must have
mentioned the possibility. Mrs. Auble was a handsome woman in her late forties with Emily's same bright eyes, and she studied Lyle with an
appraising gaze.
"So you're the young man from Marston's," Mrs. Auble
said warmly. "Emily's mentioned you."
"Only good things, I hope," Lyle said, then mentally
kicked himself for the cliché.
But Emily's mother surprised him with a laugh. "She said you
were polite, hardworking, and looked like a strong wind would blow
you over. Two out of three isn't bad."
"Mother!" Mrs. Auble exclaimed, but she was smiling.
Lyle found himself laughing too. "Fair assessment. I've been
trying to put on weight for years."
After a few more minutes of pleasant conversation, Lyle excused
himself to catch his trolley. But as he rode home through the
darkened streets, he couldn't stop smiling. Emily Auble's mother had
accepted him. This was real.
March - Deepening Connection
By March, their evening walks had become routine. Two or three
times a week, Lyle would walk Emily home from work, and they'd take
their time, sometimes stopping at a bench in a small park, sometimes
walking down to the harbor to watch the ships and the sunset.
The harbor became their favorite spot. They'd sit on a bench by
the bay, watching fishing boats and Naval vessels coming and going,
talking about everything and nothing. Sometimes Emily would tell him
about her dreams, and Lyle would share his hopes for the future.
"Do you think the United States will enter the war?"
Emily asked one evening in early March, watching a small gunboat moving
slowly through the bay.
"It seems likely," Lyle said carefully. The newspapers
were full of it—German submarines attacking American ships,
President Wilson's speeches about making the world safe for
democracy. "The mood has definitely changed."
"What would you do? If we went to war?"
Lyle looked out at the water, considering. "I suppose...I'd
have to serve. Wouldn't I? Every able-bodied man would be needed."
Emily's hand found his, their fingers interlacing naturally.
"You're very brave."
"I'm not brave at all," Lyle protested. "I'm
terrified at the thought. But sometimes you have to do what's right
even when you're scared."
She squeezed his hand. "That's what brave means."
On weekends, they explored San Diego together. Lyle would meet
Emily on Saturday afternoons, and they'd ride the trolley to
different neighborhoods. They walked through Mission Hills, admiring
the grand homes being built there. They explored Hillcrest's growing
commercial district. They wandered through North Park's tree-lined
streets and visited the stores, and ventured out to the newer
development of Kensington, where houses were springing up on the
hillsides.
"Someday," Emily said, looking at a modest bungalow
under construction in North Park, "I'd like a house like that.
Nothing grand—just a real home of our own."
Lyle noticed her use of "our own" but didn't comment on
it. Instead, he said, "With a yard for a garden. Vegetables and
flowers both."
"And fruit trees," Emily added, warming to the vision.
"Lemon and orange trees. Maybe an avocado. And a fish pond."
They stood there together, two young people imagining a future
that felt both impossibly distant and tantalizingly near.
April - The Shadow of War
The first week of April changed everything. On April 2, President
Wilson asked Congress for a declaration of war against Germany. On
April 6, 1917, Congress obliged. The United States was at war.
The San Diego Union's headlines grew larger and more urgent.
"CONGRESS DECLARES WAR ON GERMANY." "NATION MOBILIZES
FOR CONFLICT." "DRAFT LEGISLATION PENDING."
At Marston's, the atmosphere shifted. Many of the younger male
employees talked openly about enlisting. Some wanted to join the
Navy—San Diego was a Navy town, after all. Others spoke of the Army
or the new aviation corps. The Marines were recruiting heavily, their
dress blues visible all over downtown.
Lyle borrowed his father's car—a 1914 Ford Model T that Austin
Carringer occasionally drove on Sundays—and took Emily to Ocean
Beach on the first Sunday in April. They walked along the beach,
watching the waves crash against the shore, both aware that the world
was changing around them.
"Have you thought about what you'll do?" Emily asked,
her voice nearly lost in the sound of the surf.
"I've thought of little else," Lyle admitted. "There's
going to be a draft—everyone says so. All men between certain ages
will have to register."
"And you'll be included."
"I'm twenty-five. Yes, I'll be included."
They walked in silence for a while, their shoes leaving prints in
the wet sand that the waves immediately erased.
"Some of the fellows at work are talking about enlisting
before the draft," Lyle continued. "They say you get more
choice that way—can pick which branch you want to serve in. If you
wait to be drafted, they assign you wherever they need bodies."
Emily stopped walking and turned to face him. "What do you
want to do?"
It was the question Lyle had been asking himself for days. "I
think..." he paused, gathering his thoughts. "I think I
want to enlist. In the Marines. They have a big presence here in San
Diego, and I've always admired them. And if I'm going to have to
serve anyway, I'd rather do it on my own terms."
"When?" Emily's voice was steady, but her eyes were
bright with unshed tears.
"Not immediately," Lyle said quickly. "The draft
legislation hasn't even passed yet. It could be weeks, maybe months.
I want to make sure my parents are taken care of, that things at work
are in order. And I want..." He trailed off, unsure how to
continue.
"Want what?"
"I want to spend as much time with you as possible before I
have to leave."
Emily stepped closer, and Lyle found himself holding both her
hands. "We've only known each other three months," she said
softly. "But it feels like longer, doesn't it?"
"It does," Lyle agreed. "Emily, I need you to
know...these past months have been the happiest of my life. You've
made everything better—work, San Diego, even the thought of war
seems less frightening when I know you're here."
"I feel the same way," Emily whispered. "I know I'm
young, and we haven't known each other long, but Lyle, I think I'm
falling in love with you."
Lyle's heart soared. "I know I'm falling in love with you."
They stood there on Ocean Beach, the Pacific wind whipping around
them, the war across that same ocean seeming both infinitely distant
and terrifyingly near. Lyle pulled Emily close, and she came
willingly, resting her head against his shoulder despite the height
difference.
"Whatever happens," he said into her hair, "I'll
come back to you. I promise."
"Don't make promises you can't keep," Emily said, her
voice muffled against his coat.
"Then I promise to try. I promise to do everything in my
power to come home."
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Here is the Video Overview of this post by Google NotebookLM:
This is historical fiction based on the facts that are available for the life and family of my maternal grandparents, Lyle and Emily(Auble) Carringer. It is based on my research, social history and society norms at the time and place, and it is likely realistic. It might have happened this way.
I had to tell this story -- it leads up to their marriage and parenthood and their life beyond Marston's.
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Copyright (c) 2026, Randall J. Seaver
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