Sisters in Arms

by Kaia Alderson

  “Will you hush? Behaving like that while in uniform is what will get you hauled out of here by those MPs.”

  Eliza knew Grace was right. But she was just so tired of the disrespect. That woman could have just as easily turned back in her seat, minded her business, and spent the rest of her trip never having to look at them. Instead, she not only chose to make a spectacle of herself, but she also took the extra step of attempting to get her and Grace in trouble. Luck was on their side that a military police officer with some sense had been called in and that he had assessed the situation with a rational mind. It could have turned into a confrontation that went sideways so easily.

  The conductor returned with a Pullman porter behind him. They stopped beside Eliza’s seat. He cleared his throat. “I’m afraid I’m going to have to ask you both to come with me.”

  “Why?” Eliza and Grace responded at the same time.

  “It has been decided that it would be more comfortable for everyone involved if the two of you completed your trip seated elsewhere.” The man pulled at his collar. He obviously wanted to be anywhere but here. Eliza might have had pity on him, if he wasn’t kicking them out of their seats.

  Grace looked at the porter. “Mr. Graham, what’s going on?”

  Grace’s use of the man’s name threw Eliza for a second. She forgot that Grace made a habit of introducing herself to every porter she encountered on the train. Invariably, almost all the older ones knew her father.

  “It’s gonna be all right, Miss Grace. I promise.” They shared a look filled with silent meaning. Mr. Graham’s mouth quirked. Eliza felt herself relax.

  “Fine. We’ll go.”

  They both quickly gathered their things. Eliza just wanted to get this over with. One day, when she was a civilian again, she vowed that she would become a reporter with her own opinion column, even if it wasn’t with her father’s paper. She would rail against these discriminatory practices as long as there was ink in her veins.

  The conductor ushered them past a now smug Nosy Nellie on their way out of the car. The porter carried their bags behind them.

  “Serves you right. You people will learn to know your place, no matter how many stripes are on those uniforms,” the lady called after them, loud enough for all to hear.

  Mr. Graham chimed in just as loudly. “I hope you two will be comfortable in the first-class sleeper cabin we made up for you. I hope you don’t mind. It’s all we have available on such short notice. Nothing’s too good for our ladies in uniform.”

  Eliza turned to smirk at the woman and then followed the conductor and Grace out of the car.

  The first-class sleeper turned out to be the top of the line in the Pullman fleet. Even Eliza gasped when Mr. Graham opened the door to the compartment. This was no mere cramped sleeping quarters. The room took up the entire train car.

  “This can’t be real.” Eliza ran her hand along the arm of a padded chaise. The car was split into a sitting lounge in the front and a separate bedroom in the back.

  “These furnishings look like they were selected with royalty in mind. My goodness, there’s even a piano in here.” Grace placed her bag on the floor beside the small upright piano. “I’m scared to touch anything.”

  “Not quite royalty,” Mr. Graham said, and grinned. “It’s the president’s. They refurbished it up in Chicago and we’re hauling it back to D.C. on this trip. Under the circumstances, I don’t think he and Mrs. Roosevelt will mind if a few of our lady soldiers enjoy it for a few hours.”

  Mr. Graham returned with a slightly upgraded meat-and-potato dinner. A note from the conductor accompanied the meals, expressing his apologies for the earlier inconvenience.

  AT 3:30 A.M. THERE was a knock on their door. A groggy Grace padded to the door and answered it. It was one of the porters.

  “Sorry to wake you, Miss Grace. Just wanted to let you know that we’ll be arriving at Miss Eliza’s stop in about forty minutes.”

  “Mm, okay. Thanks.” She started to close the door, but the porter stopped her.

  “It’ll still be dark when we get there. We have one more stop before then. A quick one. But it’s enough time for me to call someone to meet her at the station.”

  “Thanks,” she said sleepily.

  “You just tell her to make sure she waits outside. There’s no Colored seating in the station. And they don’t take too kindly to when we break the rules.”

  “Okay.” Grace closed the door.

  She nudged Eliza, who was asleep on the other side of the bed. “Get up. Your stop’s coming up in less than an hour.”

  “Okay, thanks.”

  Then Grace climbed back into her side of the bed. She was asleep before her head hit the pillow.

  AFTER TRAVELING FOR the last eighteen hours, Eliza was glad to be able to step off the train. But it was so dark out there. The chill of the early-autumn morning made her pull her coat tighter around her. The porter followed her off with her bag, but only far enough to set it on the train platform. The train itself never actually stopped but continued to creep along the track at a snail’s pace.

  “I wish I could stay with you longer, but this is just a whistle stop.”

  Eliza nodded. “I understand.”

  She looked around, unsure of where to go next. She was the only one who had gotten off at this stop. Finally, she saw a light come on inside the station. Good, at least she had somewhere to go to get out of the cold.

  “I wasn’t able to get in contact with my cousin. But you should be fine. Just wait in the meeting place like Miss Grace told you. Nobody should mess with you there.”

  The train’s whistle blew as it began to pick up speed. It didn’t register until too late that she had no idea what the porter was talking about or where the designated meeting place was. Tension crept into Eliza’s neck. She didn’t like feeling uninformed. Especially when she was stranded in the dark at an unfamiliar train station in Kentucky.

  It’ll be okay, she assured herself. Just go inside. Find a phone. Call for a ride. The base can’t be too far from here.

  She picked up her bag and made her way inside the station.

  Inside, the man who she assumed was the station manager didn’t look too happy to see her.

  “You’re not from around here,” he drawled.

  “No, I’m not. But if you would direct me to the pay phone, I’ll be out of your way.”

  “Ain’t no Colored phone here.”

  Eliza’s spine went stiff. “Okay, then I’ll just wait over there.” She nodded toward a bench in the corner.

  “Ain’t no Colored waiting area in here neither.” He spat. The wad landed just shy of her toe.

  “Okay.” She stood still, not sure of what to do next. The man took that opportunity to size her up.

  “Since when did they start giving officer’s stripes to Colored gals? Surely you don’t expect no white folks to salute you. Let you order ’em around.” He started walking toward her.

  “If you would show me where the exit is . . .”

  “You ain’t gonna order me around,” he slurred. Now he was in her face. The sour tang of the whiskey on his breath assaulted her nose. She felt sick. That heavy dinner that she had been gifted earlier now felt like a very bad idea.

  “I’m sorry to have bothered you. I’ll go.”

  He grabbed her by the arm. “You ain’t going nowhere.”

  She dropped her duffel bag and braced herself to run. Unfortunately, the alcohol hadn’t dulled his reflexes. He tightened his grip on her arm, then jerked her to the ground.

  “If you’re man enough to wear that uniform, then you’re man enough to face the consequences when you don’t follow the rules.”

  Eliza froze in horror as his balled fist connected with her jaw. Pain shot through her skull. Then everything went black.

  “KNOW YOUR PLACE, GAL.”

  The thud of the last kick to her stomach reverberated louder inside her long after her attacker had run away than his last words had
. Eliza lay on her side, curled into a ball with her hands protecting her head. She was too scared to move for fear of subjecting herself to another explosion of pain. She had no idea how badly the man had hurt her or what her injuries were. She hurt everywhere.

  Even now, her memory of the attack had begun to blur into a series of kicks, punches, spit, and pain, as the shrinking lights of the train moved farther away into the night.

  As her body throbbed in agony, all of Eliza’s thoughts converged into one irrational thought: Grace had let this happen to her. Hadn’t the conductor said that Grace was supposed to have told her where to go? Grace, who was probably still sound asleep in her first-class cabin while Eliza lay here on the floor covered in her own blood and a stranger’s spit. Every inch of her body screamed in pain. Grace had known Eliza would be in danger, yet she had done nothing to steer her away from it.

  Eliza had always thought of herself as a forgiving person. But she would never forgive Grace for leaving her alone to die at the hands of that monster. Or possibly worse.

  Thank God he had not done his worst to her.

  As she lay there shuddering, her vision began to go dark, and on the inside, all Eliza knew was anger.

  Oddly enough, it never occurred to her during the attack or as she lay there after, alone on the concrete floor, to be afraid that she would die. Death was the last thing on her mind as she slid into unconsciousness. No, the last thing she thought of was her father and his smiling face mouthing the words “I told you so.”

  In that moment, she knew she had to live and recover as soon as possible, if for nothing else but to spite the old man. And because she couldn’t let Grace get off that easy. She would live so she could confront the woman who had proven once again that she was not Eliza’s friend. She wanted to ask her why.

  WHEN ELIZA WOKE up, she had to squint against a flood of bright lights above her. She blinked rapidly. Her eyes burned.

  “I’m alive.”

  “Yes, you are,” a woman’s voice came from beside her.

  “Grace,” she slurred. Eliza tried to push herself up, but a hand on her shoulder stopped her. Pain shot down her arm. She groaned.

  “You got that right. God’s grace indeed.”

  “No . . .” That wasn’t the Grace she had meant. “Need to talk to—”

  “Shh.” The smiling face of a brown-skinned nurse came into view. “Don’t move. You need to rest.”

  “What’s . . . broken?” Eliza was slowly learning that if she spoke slowly and took shallow breaths her chest didn’t hurt as badly.

  “Some of your ribs. A fractured right arm. And a lot of bruising. You’re a lucky girl.” The nurse leaned in closer. “Did he . . . ? Were you . . . ?”

  “No.”

  “Oh, thank goodness.”

  Eliza closed her eyes. She didn’t want to hear any more about how “lucky” she was. “Lucky” would’ve been not getting beat up at all. She changed the subject.

  “Do they know who did this to me?”

  “Officially? No.” The nurse bit her lip. She looked over her shoulder. Satisfied that no one else was within earshot, she leaned in to whisper, “But I have my suspicions.”

  Eliza blurted out, “It was the station manager on duty.”

  “Shh. Shh.” The nurse’s eyes widened in alarm. She patted Eliza’s hair, then her blanket. “Let’s not get ourselves worked up.” She got up and pulled the curtain around Eliza’s bed, giving them some sense of privacy, then returned to her seat, leaning in close again. “Some things are best kept to ourselves. Like I said, you were lucky. Let’s keep it that way.”

  GRACE WOKE WITH a gasp. “Eliza?”

  Silence.

  “Oh no. Please don’t leave yet.”

  She ran into the sitting lounge.

  “Eliza!”

  The room was empty. Eliza and her bag were gone.

  “No. No. No!”

  Grace pulled on her robe and slippers before rushing out into the passageway. It didn’t take long for her to find the porter who had knocked on their door earlier.

  “You! Where did she go? Eliza?”

  “Miss Eliza got off about an hour ago.”

  “I didn’t—I didn’t tell her not to go into the station.”

  His mouth fell into a grim line. “That’s not good. Not good at all.” He looked at his watch. “It’s going on six o’clock now. Folks should be awake. Let me radio in to have somebody check up on her. You go back to your cabin. I’ll come get you.”

  Grace went back to her cabin and sat on the bed. How could I have been so stupid?

  She had grown to become protective of the younger woman. Eliza was smart and world-wise. But she wasn’t necessarily streetwise. Reading the room wasn’t always her strong suit. That station was a room that Eliza definitely needed to read correctly.

  Grace started getting dressed while she waited for the porter to return. It didn’t take long.

  She jumped up when he knocked. “Anything?”

  “No, not yet. But I’ll keep trying. I told some of the other guys too. We’ll all keep trying.”

  Despite the porters’ efforts, they were unable to get any word of what happened to Eliza as the train continued on to Washington, D.C. It was only when she arrived at Union Station and saw an unusually serious Jonathan waiting for her on the platform that she knew.

  Grace ran up to him. “Eliza. Please. Tell me you know something.”

  He shook his head. Before he could say anything, she blurted out, “She can’t be dead.”

  “No, she is very much alive. But she’s in bad shape.”

  Jonathan ushered Grace into a cab before giving her the details. Eliza had suffered a fractured arm and a few broken ribs. She would live. No one had been arrested for the crime yet. Jonathan doubted that anyone would be.

  “What about the police? The MPs? Isn’t anybody investigating?” Grace shouted, startling the cabdriver.

  “Sorry,” Jonathan apologized to the cabbie. He turned back to Grace. “We’ll do our best to get local law enforcement to follow up, do a thorough job. But it’s Kentucky. You know how these things go.”

  “Send me back out there and I’ll make them do it.”

  “That I cannot do. Even if it were in my power to do so, I still wouldn’t.” He brushed a stray curl out of Grace’s face. The simple yet intimate gesture surprised them both. He pulled away. “I . . . I probably shouldn’t have done that.”

  Grace huddled into the opposite corner of the back seat. She averted her gaze to outside the window. “Where are we going?”

  “I . . . We set you up at a boardinghouse where one of the other Negro WACs in the office is staying. You’ve had a long, emotional trip. You must be exhausted.”

  She sniffed. “Not too exhausted to do the right thing.”

  “You’re not a civilian anymore. Right thing or not, you can’t go back there without permission.”

  “Tell them I went AWOL then. I don’t care.”

  “But I do care,” Jonathan blurted out, again surprising them both. He cleared his throat before continuing. “D.C. is my town. I can keep you safe. But only if you stay here. My office already has people looking into who attacked your friend. Let them do their jobs. Let me do mine.”

  The cab stopped.

  “We’re here.” Jonathan got out and came around to open her door. She wouldn’t look at him, instead taking in the whole block made up of row houses. She wondered which one would be her new home.

  “It’s this way.” Jonathan started walking toward the one to their left. “Mildred stays here. You two were in the same OCS class, so you won’t be surrounded by total strangers. Mrs. Wilson runs the boardinghouse. She’s good people. A friend of my family.”

  Grace let him ramble on. The warm timbre of his voice alone calmed her frayed nerves. She could feel the tension in her upper body begin to melt. Jonathan’s earlier observation had been spot-on. Exhaustion and the emotions from the trip had taken their toll on her.<
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  “This is a good neighborhood too,” he continued, oblivious to the effect he was having on Grace. “I grew up a few doors down. Let’s see, she said I could find the key under the mat. Mrs. Wilson will be back this afternoon. She teaches over at the high school. Did I mention she was my geometry teacher too?”

  Grace watched him as he fumbled around for the key. Like he was anxious. Was this a crack in his usual smooth, confident veneer? Her breath caught. Wait, was he on edge because of her?

  She studied him again with new eyes. It had been about a year since Grace had last seen Jonathan. There were no significant changes in his appearance; only the black-framed eyeglasses he wore were new. They made him look even more handsome than she remembered. This protective thing he was doing now—she kinda liked that too. He claimed that he wanted to keep her safe. She wondered if his safety net included her wrapped up in his arms.

  She cut herself off from entertaining that line of thought any further. No matter how attractive he might be, he was off-limits. War Department men and WAC women did not mix.

  He pushed the front door open. “Welcome home.”

  “Thanks.” She stepped inside. The front hallway was neat. The rest of the house smelled inviting, like a warm sweet potato pie. “Nice.”

  “Mildred said you can share her room. It’s the first one at the top of the stairs on the right. I’ll just . . .” He stopped to stare at her. She stared back at him. He was the first one to look away. “I’ll just take your bag up. Then I’ll be out of your hair.”

  “Okay.” Grace smiled. He was definitely nervous. She followed him up the stairs.

  The bedroom was tiny. She had no idea how both she and Mildred would make it work without falling over each other. Jonathan was of a considerably larger size than Mildred. Right now, she could barely breathe with him in the room.

  He turned around with a start. “Oh, I wasn’t expecting you to be so close behind me.”

  “Sorry.” But she wasn’t sorry. Actually, she was enjoying being the cause of his jitters. Grace wondered how far she could take this. “You were right. I am tired. I think I’ll take a nap while I have the house to myself.”

  “Good idea. Mildred can get you up to speed on where to go for your first day in the office tomorrow.”