Guarding Hearts

by Jaycie Morrison

  * * *

  Lieutenant Rains assumed the knock on the doorframe of her motor pool office was one of her people, since Sharon hadn’t called to announce anyone. “Come in,” she said, turning her eyes back to the papers she was signing. Two clicking sounds came from the door and when she looked over, Sophie Lucero took one more picture.

  Rains stood and walked toward her. “Sophie, please, I don’t want –”

  “I know, Gale, I know. But it doesn’t make any sense to not show the officer in charge of the department the story is about. Couldn’t I use one that doesn’t show much of your face with ‘Lieutenant Rains hard at work,’ or some such caption?”

  When the lieutenant hesitated, Sophie reached into her satchel and handed over two 5x7” black-and-white photos of Rains with Lilly on the day of their first visit. In one, taken from the back, they were looking at each other and smiling—Lilly wearing Rains’s hat and Rains’s braid clearly visible. The other was also in profile, taken from the side. Rains was pointing at something, and she and Lilly were both looking with almost identical expressions of interest on their faces. “These are only for you, of course. Although Lilly insisted on having a copy of the one where you are pointing. You photograph very well, Gale. I don’t see why you’re camera-shy.” Rains was staring at the photos, speechless for a moment. Sophie quietly pressed her advantage. “I’ll respect your wishes, of course, but I hope you’ll at least show those two to Bett. I’m sure she’ll think they are darling.”

  After a long pause, Rain murmured, “Just the one that doesn’t show my face,” and when Sophie smiled, Rain muttered, “Do all journalists use such dirty tricks?”

  Sophie’s expression changed. Clearly offended, she answered, “Believe me, most journalists wouldn’t even ask your permission. I can’t show my boss the one that does show your face or he’ll put that one in. But I’m treating you as a friend, not as a story.”

  Rains sighed. “You’re right. I apologize, Sophie. Thank you for honoring my request as best you can. And for these.” She put the photos in a folder. Lowering her voice as they shook hands, she added, “I hope we get to see you and Patrice again soon. And please give Lilly a hug for me.”

  Sophie’s smile returned. “I will. Kat and Whit have promised to host a New Year’s party. Perhaps we’ll see you there.” She started out, but paused. “And don’t worry about the article. You have a wonderful staff here. All I’ll have to do is tell the story in their words and you will all look great.”

  Rains put the pictures in her desk drawer. She needed more time to examine them, and her feelings, before sharing them with Bett.

  * * *

  Sophie’s article came out on the following Tuesday. The gist of it was a “worst to first” coverage on how efficiency at the Fort Des Moines WAC motor pool had turned around over the last few months. A statistical graph showed the improvements in various categories, such as turnaround time, cost effectiveness, and repeat repairs. Credit was given to Colonel Issacson first, on her willingness to make a change in an area that was clearly under-functioning, and PFC West was praised for her outstanding organizational skills. Except for a very small photo of Rain staring at the papers on her desk with a serious expression on her face, all of the pictures were of the girls at work in the bays on various vehicles, and one of Helen Tucker climbing into her truck, looking back at the camera with a big smile. The WAC’s mechanic training program was cited as a model for any industry. Quotes from the staff showed their pride and dedication, and one unnamed private credited Lieutenant Rains with being “the kind of person who changes lives—for the better.” Indeed, running through each paragraph was the thread of Rains’s leadership, ways her genuine compassion for her staff had inspired their loyalty and willingness to go the extra mile, and how her “slightly unorthodox approaches” only enhanced her ability to get the most from each individual while maintaining group camaraderie.

  The Des Moines Register story was picked up by the wire service and reprinted in hundreds of newspapers across the country. Bett bought ten copies of the Register and was busily cutting out the story to send to her mother and several of her best friends when Rain came home that night with a scowl on her face. She pointed at the pile of papers. “Those need to go in the fire”—she waved a folder—“along with these.”

  “Rain, whatever is the matter?” Bett asked in genuine confusion. She was certain Rain would want copies of the article for her family also. “This is a wonderful story. You should be proud.”

  “I am not proud. This kind of bragging is not the Sioux way.” Rain was pacing angrily and slapping the folder against her leg.

  “This is not bragging. It’s all true.” Bett stood, waiting for Rain to slow down so she could get a chance to hold her and explain. “The article simply shows you have a group of very dedicated and capable women who enjoy their work and enjoy working with you. Why is that a problem?”

  “I didn’t worry, because Colonel Issacson said the story was good. I can see I was mistaken to trust her or Sophie on this matter.” Rain was clearly so unhappy that Bett decided to let her pace some more before trying any contact. It was quite unlike her to criticize Issacson about anything or to speak ill of someone she considered a friend.

  “How are the girls in your department taking it?” Bett asked finally.

  “Oh, fine. They are happy to have their names or their pictures in the paper. I believe Helen Tucker and Teresa Owens have bought every paper on the base. They don’t see…” Rain finally stopped pacing. She was facing away from Bett, looking at the floor. Bett came up behind her and gently put her hands on Rain’s shoulders.

  “They see what the rest of your people see—a fine officer who deserves credit for making their time in the motor pool a wonderful experience. They see their leader genuinely cares about them being recognized for doing the right thing in the right way, and they are happy about it.” She slipped her arms around Rain’s waist and laid her cheek on Rain’s back. “You’ve said before that you appreciate my counsel. Can you hear me now?”

  Somehow Bett had learned to phrase her speech in a way that sounded almost Lakota at times. Rain suspected it was partly Bett’s linguistic training that made her understand how to put words together so they would sound familiar to Rain, but it never failed to make her pause and listen. She nodded.

  “You know Colonel Issacson would never allow words that would damage you, and you don’t believe Sophie would write with such intent, do you? You are not comfortable within yourself with what you have read, but you are not taking into account the motivation of those who have produced and approved this story or about the good it may do. Imagine how many people will be impressed with how well the WAC motor pool is doing and how the reputation of our service will improve. Think of young women who may see a place for themselves here when they read these words. You see this as being about you because you are too close. Step back, Beloved, and see you are only a small part of this bigger picture.”

  Bett had felt Rain’s body relaxing as she listened, but at the word “picture,” Rain stiffened again.

  “What?” Bett asked. Rain turned and handed her the folder without a word. Bett’s expression of delight at the photos of her and Lilly made her heart soften a little. “Oh, Rain. These are wonderful! Look at the two of you! We must have them framed and put them in your roo—” Rain was shaking her head. “What? What could possibly be wrong with these pictures? I know you care for Lilly. It shows all over your face. And obviously she is enamored of you. Don’t you like seeing the two of you together?”

  “I would never see us like this. I would only see Lilly.” Rain objected. “This is us through someone else’s eyes.”

  “Well, of course, but it’s through the eyes of Sophie, who loves her daughter and appreciates that the two of you are quite smitten with each other. These photos show that.”

  “Yes, but now that time is stopped, is still.” Rain wanted Bett to understand. “In my head before was the
whole living experience. The weight of Lilly on my hip, the smell of her soap, the scratchy feel of her dress, the sound of her voice…all were real and present. We walked around the bays, she held different tools, talked to the girls for maybe ten or fifteen minutes. When I see these pictures, that time is reduced to only these two seconds, with images flat and dead.”

  “I understand a photograph cannot match your full memory of the event, Rain, but don’t you like having it to remind you of that time?” Bett tried. “To help you call Lilly’s visit to mind?”

  Rain shook her head again. “I don’t need this kind of reminder for what is important to me. I will remember by being in that place or by hearing Lilly’s voice in my head.”

  “But what if you move away from that place one day? What about when Lilly is older and her voice is different? Wouldn’t you like having these photographs of that moment in that place when time has passed and things have changed?”

  Rain sighed, pushing aside the memory of another little girl, Daisy, who would never grow any older or be any different from the last time she had seen her. She focused on Bett, who was clearly waiting for an answer. She wanted to let Bett know she respected her point of view, even if she didn’t agree with it. And she hoped for the same in return. Rain took her lover’s hand and led her to the couch where they sat. Bett held on to the folder with her other hand.

  “I remember how much I enjoyed seeing those childhood photographs of you during the first week I was here. But what I really liked was the idea of you I got from seeing them…trying to imagine what was happening around you when they were taken, and especially to sense who you were and what you were feeling at the time. It was not the photographs themselves I actually liked. Then and now, I cherish hearing your stories and imagining you at different times of your life, and that can happen without pictures. In some ways, pictures might even interfere with my knowing your past, because they are limited, or even deceptive. Maybe you are pictured smiling, but when you remember the day, you might tell me you were sad. Or you are at the beach, but that part of the picture means nothing to me because I have never been to the ocean and I don’t know the sounds and the smells there. Then do you need a picture to tell me the story of the ocean? Does the still photograph of the water help you to describe for me the sea breeze and the salt and the sand with your words?”

  Rain leaned in and kissed Bett gently but with great emotion. “Would a picture help you to remember that? If we were older or in a different place?” Bett shook her head. Rain kissed her again. Not to make the point or for a reward but because it felt so good. Their bodies were closer, and Bett let the folder drop to the ground so she could take off Rain’s jacket.

  Rain was about to decide the discussion was over when Bett said, “Would you please let me keep those pictures of you anyway? If you feel strongly about it, I won’t, but I would really like to have them.” Somehow Bett had gotten on top of her, and Rain’s feelings about the photos and the story seemed very small and far away.

  “Not framed or hanging anywhere,” she managed to say, feeling Bett’s hands undoing her shirt. “Just for you.”

  “Just for me is exactly the way I want everything with you,” Bett answered firmly, refusing to revisit her vague worries about Kathleen Hartley. “And don’t you ever think otherwise.”

  * * *

  When the phone began ringing on Friday morning, Bett groaned. In her pre-Army life, she would have turned over and ignored it, confident no friend of hers would be calling at such a ridiculous hour, as they would barely have gotten in from a night of partying. Blinking the sleep from her eyes, she recalled last week’s directive that in order to be eligible for her next promotion, all staff had to demonstrate they were immediately available to the cryptography department at all times. This might be a test. “How times have changed,” she muttered to herself, grabbing her robe and hurrying into the kitchen. Over the persistent ringing, she heard the shower turn off and a vision of Rain’s warm, wet body made her grumpy feelings fade. Some of the changes were really good.

  A young man’s voice was on the other end, his tone indicating surprise at her hello. “Oh, hi. I was given this number by a lady in the Women’s Army Corps motor pool. I saw a story in the paper and I believe that small picture is my sister. I’m trying to reach her.”

  It took Bett a second to work through it. She knew Rain’s older brother Thomas fighting overseas. This could only be Rain’s younger brother. “Is this Nikki?” she asked excitedly.

  “Yes. Who is this?” Nikki didn’t sound suspicious, only curious.

  “Nikki, my name is Bett Smythe. Your sister lives with me.”

  “With you?” Now he sounded genuinely confused. “I thought she was in the army.”

  “Oh yes, she is. We both are. We just live together off-base.”

  Now there was a pause. “Are you sure we are talking about the same person?” Nikki asked finally. “A tall Indian girl?”

  Bett had to laugh. “Yes, Nikki. It is the same person, your sister, Wind and Rain,” she said, using the English translation of what her lover was called in Lakota. “And I know she’ll be very, very happy to talk to you. Can you hold for just a second while I get her? You can tell the operator to reverse the charges.” She didn’t wait for an answer, just sprinted back toward the bathroom.

  Chapter Eight

  Bett was so excited she could barely contain herself. Rain was already getting dressed in her bedroom when Bett opened the door. “Good morning, Beloved,” Rain said, standing with one shoe on to hug Bett. “What has you awake this early?”

  “Rain, you have to come with me right now. Something wonderful has happened,” Bett said, pulling Rain along behind her.

  Rain hobbled unevenly, holding her other shoe. “What is it?”

  Bett didn’t answer but sat Rain at the little kitchen table and picked up the phone. “Hi, it’s Bett. What? Oh, yes, operator, I’ll accept. Okay, here she is.”

  Rain frowned, taking the receiver. Bett knew she didn’t like talking on the phone in the best of times, much less early in the morning with no idea of who was on the other end. But her lover looked excited and Rain trusted her, so she spoke into the mouthpiece. “Rains.”

  Bett watched as Rain’s eyes grew wide and then filled with tears. The shoe she had been holding fell to the ground as Rain clutched the phone with both hands. “Nikki? Is it really you?”

  Bett kissed the top of Rain’s head and left the room, giving her privacy. When she came back into the bedroom after taking her shower, Rain was sitting on their bed, waiting for her. Rain’s eyes were a bit red, and she hadn’t finished getting dressed yet. “Bett, I don’t know what to say,” she said, taking Bett’s hands. “You’ve filled my life with so many unexpected experiences—love, joy, passion, contentment—and now you’ve brought my little brother back to me.”

  Bett could see Rain was working very hard not to cry again. She sat next to her and put her arm around Rain’s shoulders. “Rain, you are such a fine person and you deserve to have only good in your life. I want to be one of those things and I’m happy for anything else I can share with you.”

  Rain held her tightly. “My most beloved, you are not ‘one of those things,’ you are everything.”

  Throughout the rest of the day, Rain replayed parts of the phone conversation in her mind. The hardest to hear had been about how Nikki had come to be in New York.

  “They got me out of school and drove me over to that Little Ellen Mine where Dad was working.” Nikki’s voice had a sorrowful note. “Since it was a big explosion, not just a cave-in, they already suspected Dad’s whole crew had been killed. That blast took out eleven men, Rain, including my best friend Walter’s dad. When the company offered compensation, I took it. Some people were holding out, but I just wanted to leave that place, you know? Miss Warren—I’m sure you remember her since she was that teacher who made you stay after school so often, right?” Rain had swallowed, caught off guard by the new directi
on of the conversation, and could only make an affirmative grunt. Nikki continued, more upbeat. “Well, she was always telling me I should go to New York if I wanted to be a real artist. So I took the money and hitchhiked here. It wasn’t a bad trip; most of the people who give me rides were really swell. I was careful with what I spent, and now that I’ve been awarded a fellowship, I’m doing okay. Anyway, I’ve saved yours and Thomas’s share of what the mine paid out. Now that I can get your address, I can mail it to you.”

  Rain didn’t know what to think of the news that her father was dead. In some ways, he’d never been really alive for her, merely a shell of a man who went to work or came home and drank or told them they were moving again. She couldn’t recall any other kind of relationship, and any youthful feelings she might have had toward him had been lost or colored by contempt as she’d grown aware that he chose to spend his time with alcohol instead of taking care of his children. Her brothers had been her true family. “No, Nikki. You keep it. I never asked him for anything while he was alive, and I don’t want anything from his death either. Spend it however you need to. I’m sure Thomas feels the same way.”

  There was a little pause. “Well, I’ve got a few of Dad’s belongings that we can go through when I see you.”

  Rain stared at the paper with the phone number on it that Nikki had given her. He’d told her it was the number of the business he was living above, and that they would give him a message if she called there. “You live above a business? By yourself?” It was hard to reconcile the teenager she’d last seen with the man he sounded like now.