Guarding Hearts

by Jaycie Morrison

  “Relax, darling. We’re among friends,” she said, knowing Rains would note the endearment she never used with her and its meaning that, contrary to her words, something was slightly amiss. Sure enough, Rains kept hold of her hand, staying close as they turned into the room. A few seconds later they were joined by another woman wearing a severe, almost mannish-looking suit with her short brown hair slicked back.

  Noting the nearness of their guests with a grin, she walked directly over and took Kathleen’s hand. “I’m the roommate, Lieutenant Victoria Whitman. Everyone calls me Whit.”

  Bett introduced herself while Rains looked at Whit intently. “I know you,” she said, brow furrowed as she tried to remember.

  “Actually, you both do,” Whit said. “I was the medic in charge the night we took you,” she indicated Bett, “to the hospital after that incident in the guardhouse a while back.”

  Bett looked at her again, shaking her head. “I’m sorry, but I don’t remember.” She’d all but blocked out the incident with Corporal Nathan Crowley, the degenerate MP who’d held her at gunpoint in an attempt to get even with Rains for having him transferred from Fort Des Moines.

  “No surprise,” Whit said. “You were pretty shook up.”

  “Yes,” Rains recalled, nodding slowly. “You let me ride in the ambulance.”

  “Well, the way I heard it, there was one hell of a big knife involved,” Whit grinned, “so I wasn’t going to argue with you.”

  Rains let go of Bett, extending her hand to Whit. “Thank you for that. Nurse Jackson wouldn’t care if you were carrying a tommy gun. She’d still argue about visitation rules.”

  “Best damn nurse on the base, though,” Whit noted as they shook, and Rains nodded in agreement. “Let’s get you two something to drink.”

  Bett followed Whit into the kitchen with the bottle of wine she had brought. Kathleen Hartley stopped Rains with a hand on her arm, her fingers lightly exploring the muscle there for a few seconds before she managed to stop herself. “Lieutenant, may I call you Gale?”

  Rains didn’t seem to notice the extra attention. “Of course. And I want to thank you again for having us in your home.”

  Hartley smiled. “We are very pleased you could come, and I want you to enjoy yourself. Why don’t we plan to meet back in the mess hall early next week and we can go over any questions you have about our dinner service tonight, or anything else that might come up.”

  “Yes. I was never very good at tests,” Rains said, looking anxiously in the direction of the dining room.

  “Relax,” Kathleen Hartley assured her. “There is no ice cream fork here tonight.”

  In spite of Gale’s sheepish grin, Kathleen suspected she remained apprehensive about the upcoming event in New York, and while she’d doubtlessly agreed to this evening mostly for Bett’s sake, she was also probably nervous about trying some of the dining behavior she’d learned in front of strangers. Hoping to reassure her before the others arrived, she asked, “Tell me a little more about Bett’s people you’ll be seeing over Christmas.”

  Rains didn’t answer for a few seconds. “I would feel more comfortable if you talked to Bett about that,” she said finally.

  “Talked to Bett about what?” Bett entered from the kitchen and stopped beside Rains, handing her a glass of club soda. Kathleen watched as Rains’s reserved expression changed to one of genuine devotion. She felt a swell of resentment, wondering why Bett Smythe got to be the one for whom the reticent lieutenant let her guard down. What must it have been like, that first time between them? Holding back a sigh as Bett lightly caressed Rains’s back before taking a sip of her red wine, Kat turned away gratefully as Whit came in carrying two more glasses, and gestured for everyone to sit. Rains sat at the end of the couch with Bett next to her. Kathleen and Whit sat in chairs facing them.

  “I was asking about your family, in regard to the dinner we’ve been practicing for,” Kathleen explained, grateful for the chance to slip back into her hostess role. Because Bett’s expression was difficult to read, she added, “If it helps, my father is Arthur Yarrow of Chicago. He owns a lot of real estate and has also gotten into sports teams, especially hockey. One way I ended up in protocol was by virtue of having attended all those banquets.”

  Bett thought she might have heard of Yarrow at her father’s table as he’d discussed a business deal with her brothers, and the real estate connection sounded right. “My father is R.L. Carlton. He’s in oil and he—” She stopped as the two women across from her exchanged meaningful looks. Clearly the Carlton name wasn’t lost on them.

  “But you go by—” Whit started but Bett cut her off, using the excuse she’d given throughout her basic training.

  “Smythe, yes. My father insisted I not use Carlton. He was certain I’d be kidnapped or blackmailed in some way by the riffraff of the Women’s Army Corps.”

  While her hostesses smiled, Bett felt Rains shift uneasily beside her. After she’d told her lover the truth—that Smythe was her lawfully married name—Rain had made it clear that she expected Bett to take steps to remove herself from the marriage. Bett fully intended to honor her lover’s stipulation but hadn’t had the opportunity to do so yet.

  Not surprisingly, Bett thought, Kathleen turned her attention back to Rains. “I can understand now why you might be feeling a little overwhelmed.”

  “Well, my parents are divorced and we’ll only be seeing my mother,” Bett went on, knowing Rains was perfectly capable of speaking for herself but finding herself determined to shield her from Hartley’s perusal. “But still, it will be quite a bit more formal than the WAC Mess Hall.”

  Even Rains laughed a little at that. The doorbell rang and Whit rose to answer, Kathleen following her. Bett and Rains both stood. A small woman with light-brown hair and wire-rimmed glasses entered, hugged Whit, and looked back behind her as if checking on the progress of someone else. Then Lieutenant Miriam Boudreaux came in and quickly pushed her way through to Kathleen, making a grand display of kissing her hand and murmuring something close to her ear. Rains stiffened, stepping between Bett and the new arrivals, her body tight as if prepared for action. Bett knew Rains had a poor opinion of Lieutenant Boudreaux, and there was a history of difficulty between them. As Whit pounded playfully on Boudreaux’s back, Bett watched as she gave Kathleen a quick eye roll.

  The two women moved into the room, and Kathleen stepped into the foursome. “Gale, Bett, may I introduce Captain Sara Vernon, who is now over finance, and Lieutenant Miriam Boudreaux from the ordnance department. Sara, Miriam, this is—”

  “I’m well acquainted with the famous Sergeant Rains—oh, excuse me—Lieutenant Rains. You were a sergeant for so long it’s hard to remember the change.” Boudreaux sneered as she spoke before taking Bett’s hand and kissing it. “Ah, mademoiselle private. We meet again.” Her eyes roved appreciatively over Bett’s body.

  Bett extracted her hand with some difficulty. “It’s Sergeant Smythe now.” She turned to the smaller woman. “Bett Smythe. I’m in cryptography.” They shook briefly.

  Rains also turned to the smaller woman. “It’s nice to meet you, Captain Vernon. I’ve begun seeing your name on my paperwork. How are things in the finance department?”

  The small woman nodded, her manner warming. “Nothing recently has been quite as memorable as my first day.” Everyone except Rains smiled, clearly recalling the widely circulated story of the incident when Colonel Issacson, the base commander, was showing Captain Vernon to her new office. They opened the door to the finance department to find two privates locked in physical combat. One of them, Helen Tucker, was a driver for Rains’s motor pool, and the unofficial story was she’d been instrumental in breaking open a black-market ring that was stealing from the WAC. Since then, Captain Vernon had been working to see that the finance department ran smoothly and without a hint of impropriety. “I’ve seen your name too, Lieutenant Rains. Colonel Issacson recently requested an analysis on all departments over the last twelv
e months, and you’re to be congratulated on your work. The motor pool operation is much more efficient since your arrival. Expenses have been reduced by almost twenty percent and efficiency is—”

  “Those grease monkeys won’t win the war for you, Beb,” Boudreaux cut in, her bayou drawl even more pronounced. “Guns and ammo and bombs are what it will take for that.”

  “But surely you need the motor pool’s machines to deliver your armaments, Lieutenant. I think we can all agree this war will be won as a team effort,” Bett argued, aware that Rains’s recent promotion and appointment to the motor pool post was a matter of unkind gossip in some quarters. Before Boudreaux could respond, she added, “Excuse me for asking, but are you Acadian?”

  Boudreaux laughed pleasantly and shook her head. “Nah, cher,” she said, her accent more pronounced. “Not everyone from the bayou is Cajun, though they are fine folk to know. They cook good and they make a party even better.” She winked. “They taught me a few things about taking care of my friends.” Her expression darkened. “And my enemies.”

  “Miriam’s incredibly superstitious,” Sara whispered to Rains. When Kathleen looked questioningly in their direction, Sara blushed and spoke a bit louder. “She tells me she can make spells in her bedroom.”

  “Oh, I think that’s what you told me.” Boudreaux grinned at Sara before turning back to Bett. “And you, with the accent of the noble ruling class. What are you doing with this revolutionary?” She gestured to Rains, her sneer returning. “Preaching love and peace in the middle of a war sounds like treason to me.”

  Before rotating out of her drill instructor position, Rains had been asked to address her platoon one last time. She’d spoken from the heart, letting her thoughts regarding the terrible ravages of war and how the urgent need for peace between all peoples should be the motivation for women to take their rightful place as leaders and remakers of the world. Bett had been so moved by Rains’s words that she’d decided on the spot to work for the cryptography center in Des Moines, having determined that getting to know this fascinating woman was much more worthwhile than a posting in New York or even Washington, DC. One of the other sergeants had understood Rains’s meaning very differently, however, and accused her of sedition. Nothing had come of it, thanks to the willing defense of Rains’s squad members, but Bett knew the incident still rankled.

  “Behave, Boudreaux,” Whit interrupted, as Rains’s eyes narrowed, “or I’ll cut you off before you even get started.” She began to walk the larger woman toward the kitchen.

  “You know she’s already started, Whit,” Sara said, following them.

  When Bett looked over, Rains’s face held a mixture of concern and anger. Kathleen gave what sounded like a nervous laugh as she looked at them. “Miriam Boudreaux is a rather…unique personality,” she said. “She’s a good friend of Whit’s, and I thought she was charming when I first met her. And she really helped us both make the adjustment to living here.” After a pause, Kathleen added, “I suppose she means well, but she just has a tendency to overdo…on everything.”

  “Hmm,” Rains muttered. Bett took Rains’s hand and felt her take in a breath, trying to relax.

  “Why did she say Gale was famous?” Bett asked, shifting the conversation to see if Hartley would follow.

  “Because she does have a bit of a reputation—among the officers, anyway. When she started her noncommissioned officer’s training, she came with the most demerits ever accumulated by a private. There were lots of rumors about how she even made it in. And then she graduated at the top of her class, and that stopped most of the talk.”

  Bett turned to Rains with a shocked expression. “Most demerits ever? And how many lectures did I get on self-discipline?”

  Rains shifted her weight uneasily. “Bett, you know Agnes Moore was my drill instructor. She would give demerits for blinking at the wrong time.”

  “Oh, that’s not the way I heard it, Gale.” Kathleen wasn’t letting Rains off the hook. “I heard you were rather unruly during those first few weeks. And then there were your showdowns with Crowley. Both involving a knife, as the stories go.”

  “Nathan Crowley was not a good man,” Rains said tightly, squeezing Bett’s hand. Bett squeezed back.

  “Absolutely not, no question. But that’s how legends grow,” Kathleen insisted. “Plus, everyone on base is convinced that you’re Issacson’s favorite. Most people assume that’s how you got your shot at NCO training to begin with.”

  “Colonel Issacson is a fine commander who wouldn’t play favorites,” Rains asserted.

  “Yeah, but I bet she don’t know about your little sweetie here.” Boudreaux’s voice boomed into the den.

  Rains turned. Bett could feel her lover’s body tensing again. She squeezed her hand a few quick pulses as Boudreaux, sipping a tall drink, eyed Rains with amusement. Rains let out a breath. “I’m sure the colonel is aware of the contributions that Sergeant Smythe is making to the war effort through her work in cryptography.”

  Sara came in behind Boudreaux, also carrying a drink, and slapped the back of Miriam’s head. As Boudreaux winced, she said, “Don’t think anyone here is going to save your ass if Lieutenant Rains pulls out that knife.”

  Everyone except Bett and Rain started to laugh. Kathleen Hartley recovered first. Seeing Rains’s uneasiness she warned, “Now, stop it everyone. At this rate, Gale and Bett will never come back.”

  “Is that blade GI?” Miriam questioned. If it had been only Boudreaux, Rains wouldn’t have answered. But everyone was looking at her expectantly as the laughter died out.

  She shook her head slowly. “It was a gift from my brother many years ago.”

  “How come you carrying it here?” Miriam’s tone had become more challenging.

  Rains looked at Bett, who was still holding her hand. When Bett nodded encouragingly, she said, “My brother Thomas joined the Army in 1942, several months before the first WAACs arrived here. He’s part of the First Infantry Division.” Everyone was quiet now. The name of the Big Red One always commanded respect. “From the beginning he…he was selected for some special duty. I couldn’t say what he’s doing but I know…” She hesitated for a second and then stood a little straighter as she looked around at the women in the room. “I know that Sioux warriors will be wherever the fighting is. This—” She started to reach for it before remembering that Bett had convinced her to leave the weapon at home, just for tonight. “Having his knife with me helps me feel closer to him.” Her tone grew harder. “Like I’m fighting right beside him, where I should be. Where I would be if I could.”

  Kathleen Hartley saw Bett shudder. She came over and patted her on the shoulder, sincerely concerned that she might not have heard Rains talk quite so forcefully before, while she looked up at her tall companion. “I’m sure you’re exactly where you’re supposed to be, doing exactly what you need to do to help him and the rest of our fighting men.” When Bett gave her a grateful look, she added, “Besides, someone’s got to keep the morale up on the home front.” Kathleen turned to the group. “From the time she became a drill instructor, a lot of us suspected there was an attractive woman hiding in Sergeant Rains’s uniform, didn’t we?” She gestured at Rains’s outfit. “It just took the right woman to get her out of it.” Whit laughed while Sara murmured appreciatively, but Boudreaux snorted derisively. “Come on now, Miriam,” Kathleen urged. “You must admit that knife hasn’t scared at least half the women on base from having cars that run better since Lieutenant Rains took over the motor pool.”

  Rains was shaking her head and looking at the ground. Bett knew her lover was deeply embarrassed by all the attention, but she wasn’t going to let Hartley’s insinuation go unanswered. Softly, she inquired, “Do you remember the first time you showed me your knife? And what I told you that night?”

  Rains suspected the flush creeping up her neck gave away the general topic, if not the specifics of the conversation, but she looked at Bett and smiled. “I remember that evenin
g very well.”

  “That settles it,” said Whit, gesturing at them. “I’m going shopping for a knife tomorrow.” Even Rains joined in the laughter this time.

  “And that’s the other thing,” Boudreaux pointed at Rains. “Two years with never a laugh, never a smile. Serious as hell and holier than thou about everything. Then she gets one week’s leave and comes back grinning like the cat that ate the canary. Even laughing sometimes. And what did we all think?”

  Together the others recited, “Rains finally got laid.”

  It was too much. Rains lowered herself to the couch with her head in her hands. Everyone was still laughing as Boudreaux took a step toward Bett, reaching out her hand as if to stroke Bett’s face. “And who could blame her? This one could be anybody’s pinup girl, eh?”

  In a split second Rains was back up with her fists clenched beside her, her flashing eyes fixed on Boudreaux. Bett had stepped closer to Rains, away from Boudreaux’s caress, and she put her hand on Rains’s back again.

  “At ease, Lieutenant,” Boudreaux said easily to Rains, changing her motion to a proffered handshake. “We can all see that your sugar is rationed too.”

  Bett recognized the slang for going steady as she watched Rains’s eyes and knew she was weighing her options. Finally, ignoring Miriam’s hand, Rains stepped forward and leaned down into her face. Only someone making an obvious effort to get close enough to listen could have understood her words, but there was an unmistakable insistence in her tone. She and Boudreaux stared at each other for what seemed like a long time before Miriam drained her drink and turned back toward the bar with a half grunt, half laugh.