Guarding Hearts

by Jaycie Morrison

  “I know, sweetie.” Bett squeezed her shoulder. “We all understand. You did what you thought was best, for all of us.”

  “Yeah.” Whit nodded gratefully before her face fell. “But I may have made it worse. If she recovers, she may be so mad that she’ll turn us all in just to get even with me.”

  They were all quiet for a moment before Rains asked, “What did she say that made you angry?”

  “What difference does that make?” Kathleen asked harshly, but Whit nodded. Perhaps someone else would see a way through if she told them everything.

  “She was griping about how she didn’t have anything to show for her time here. Nobody and no place to live. I think she knows she’ll get thrown out, but she’s never saved any money. She seemed really disappointed when I told her the Army wouldn’t pay for her information. She said if I’d been a real friend, I would have helped her.”

  Kat exhaled in disgust as Bett murmured a negative sound. Then the group fell silent again.

  After a few more seconds, Whit put her napkin on the table and stood, obviously ready to leave, but Rains gestured for her to wait. “Whit, listen,” she said. “You just told us that you fought with Miriam and you threatened her. If she sees you, she’s liable to disregard anything you say for fear you’re still out to get her.”

  Easing back into her chair, Whit nodded thoughtfully. “You’re right. But you shouldn’t go either. She hates you almost as much as she hates me at this moment.”

  “I’ll go.” Bett’s voice was calm but strong, the way she spoke when she was determined to do something. “Kathleen doesn’t need any more time with that woman, but I want to try and reason with her.”

  “She might not listen, if she thinks you’re in on something with Whit,” Rains objected.

  Bett smiled confidently. “I’m sure I can convince her otherwise.”

  “I’ll walk you over.” Whit stood and Rains seemed to know there was no stopping her this time. Kathleen barely glanced at her before she rose to follow them.

  Rains walked out slowly, assuring herself that no heads turned as she walked out to follow her friends.

  * * *

  When she arrived back at the motor pool, Lieutenant Rains caught the scent of chocolate mingling with the usual smells of motor oil and gasoline. Sharon, always sensitive to the moods of her charges, had brought another large plate of brownies that she’d made with the new mixer Rains had given her for Christmas, and the lieutenant saw a smaller batch labeled “For Sergeant Smythe” on her desk. Prior to the holiday, Rains had made the rounds of her staff asking for ideas, keeping her voice low so Sharon wouldn’t hear. From three different girls she heard about Sharon’s great love of baking, and how she hadn’t been able to indulge her passion very successfully since her mixer had broken.

  “You know how it is, Lieutenant,” Francie remarked. “It’s almost impossible to buy something like that these days, with the war on and all.”

  Rains wanted to find a gift that was meaningful, something to tell Sharon how much she was appreciated, but once she’d visited various stores, she learned Francie’s assessment was correct. It was then she’d remembered helping Bett unpacking when she’d first visited her home. She’d put two mixers, still in their boxes, in the end cabinet of Bett’s kitchen. Bett told her one had been purchased before the war began, and the other was a housewarming gift from her friend Suzanne. But there was a working one out on the counter already. Rain had wanted to ask about it after her unsuccessful shopping expeditions, but it seemed such a frivolous and inappropriate issue, given Bett’s focus on events in the Ardennes.

  Before the motor pool Christmas party, Bett was intensely involved in her cryptography work and came home only rarely. When she did, Rain was so glad to see her that she forgot to ask about the mixers. She tried to put herself in Bett’s mind—how would she feel if Rain gave away something of hers without permission? On one level, “things” were important to Bett, more important than she would want to admit, mostly because she was accustomed to having them. The point wasn’t that Bett would most likely never use or even unbox the items. The point was they belonged to her and were not Rain’s to give away. On the other hand, Bett could be extremely generous. She seemed to get genuine pleasure from making others happy or helping to improve their lot in life and if it took some of her money to do it, so much the better.

  Ultimately, Rain had decided Bett would be fine with giving Sharon one of her mixers, and she thought Sharon was even more thrilled by the gift than she had been by her promotion to corporal. Several days later when they finally had a discussion about it, Bett readily admitted she wouldn’t have even noticed if Rain hadn’t told her. She simply kissed Rain and said, “I hope you also put my name of the gift tag.” Of course Rain had, and Bett received a lovely thank-you note from Sharon which said, in part, I hope it’s not too presumptuous, Sergeant Smythe, but I consider you part of our motor pool family.

  Bett had called the motor pool often enough that she was now on a familiar basis with the motor pool secretary, although she was “Sharon” to Bett and Bett was “Sergeant Smythe” to Sharon. While it certainly wasn’t surprising Sharon West quickly learned Bett’s voice, given her unusual accent, it was a testament to her secretarial skills that she also noticed Lieutenant Rains had taken Sergeant Smythe’s first three calls to the motor pool immediately. She was also aware that when a desperate Helen Tucker had found her working late one night, Sergeant Smythe was the one who’d answered the number that Rains had given her to use in an emergency. It had never occurred to her to ask why, or to dwell on what the relationship was between the two women. She just stopped asking her lieutenant if she was available for Sergeant Smythe, and simply put Bett’s calls through.

  When word of the investigations on the base had come out, Sharon and her friends had talked the matter over on several occasions. At first, everyone was horrified at the idea that an officer had been acting that way. Patricia, who worked for the quartermasters, was adamant that none of those “queer girls” should be allowed to stay in the WAC, and they all nodded in agreement. But a week later Juanita, who was one of the administrative clerks, was gone. Sharon was shocked, having enjoyed Juanita’s pleasant manner and willingness to laugh. But Patricia insisted she’d suspected all along, having seen Juanita walking a little too close to one of the other clerks as they smiled happily at each other. This made Sharon think about how close the girls at the motor pool were and how often they smiled at each other. In spite of the fact that they wore coveralls and did tough, dirty work that some people said wasn’t right for women to do, none of them seemed “queer” to her. When Lieutenant Rains had made the announcement that she wasn’t submitting any names to Colonel Issacson’s office, and added that she was of the opinion that individuals should be judged on their performance and not their personal life, Sharon realized that she agreed. She’d already determined that the lives of any one of these girls could be destroyed by a simple misinterpretation in this sort of inquiry, and now she concluded that the whole business had likely gone on much too long.

  But she hadn’t known her lieutenant to disagree with the colonel on anything before, and it gave Sharon pause. Was there a reason, other than her own principles, that Lieutenant Rains was upset about this inquiry? In many ways, the lieutenant was strict, operating very much by the book, and her quiet, formal manner was exactly what Sharon expected from an officer. At times, though, she was known to bend the rules when it better suited the group or make allowances when an individual needed it. Was that the way she behaved in her personal life too? Did she follow regulations in public while making exceptions for herself in private? Sharon sighed and asked herself the most important question: Did any of it matter?

  Lieutenant Rains wondered at the pensive expression on Corporal West’s face. Normally, her secretary provided a warm welcome to everyone in the motor pool, but today she looked troubled. “Anything wrong, Corporal?” she asked, pausing at Sharon’s tidy de
sk.

  Sharon startled slightly and sat up straight. “No, ma’am. I was just…thinking.”

  “Ah.” Rains nodded sagely. “Then you’re working hard.”

  Sharon’s smile returned briefly, but her face became solemn again. “We’ve gotten word that the hearing will commence at ten hundred hours Monday.” She swallowed. “Can you tell me anything about the status of the inquiry, Lieutenant? I’m…worried.”

  Rains hesitated and then moved back to Sharon’s tidy desk. “We are all worried, Corporal West. I can’t say what will happen next, but rest assured that those of us who care deeply for this Women’s Army Corps are doing all we can to seek justice for the injured while bringing a timely end to this…process.” Sharon probably knew she would have added more descriptions to her term, but this wasn’t the time or place.

  Sharon looked into her face. “You’re not in trouble, are you, Lieutenant?”

  Rains couldn’t contain her sigh. “I wish I could say no. But I must tell you that it’s possible that I, or any of us, could run afoul of some slanderous or ill-intentioned comments.”

  She could see tears forming in Sharon’s eyes. “So what can we do?”

  “We can do our jobs. We can care for each other as we always have. We don’t let the hateful side win, on the battlefield or here at home.”

  Sharon lowered her head, obviously struggling to contain her emotions. Reaching for her hand that held a pencil, Rains touched it briefly. “In case I don’t get to say it, I have the greatest admiration for you and the job you’ve done here. Before I leave for the hearing Monday, I’d like to have everyone present so that I can tell them the same thing. No matter what happens, I want you all to know that serving here has been my…” To her horror, Rains heard her voice catch. She forced herself to finish. “Greatest honor.”

  Clearing her throat, she gathered Bett’s brownies and strode to her office, wanting to give them both a chance to recover. Once seated at her desk, she felt her worry about Bett return. From the moment they’d parted in front of the base hospital, she hadn’t been able to shake the feeling that Bett’s visit to Boudreaux, which should be happening now, could impact their future in the WAC. Even worse, the vision of Miriam abusing Bett as she’d done with Kathleen made her grit her teeth. If anything like that happened, Rains was certain of one thing: She wouldn’t waste time with threats. She would simply ensure that Miriam Boudreaux would painfully regret her behavior for all that remained of her vastly shortened life.

  * * *

  “Do you and Whit ever keep secrets from each other?”

  “What?” Kathleen recognized Bett Smythe’s voice right away, but the question was so unexpected that she needed a moment to think about her reply.

  “I need to use your guest room.” Bett went on as if she’d given the right answer. “I’ve told Gale I’m working through the weekend, because if I go home, she’ll know I’ve done something and she’ll get it out of me in no time. And I can’t let that happen. At least not right now.”

  Bett sounded as nervous as Kathleen had ever heard her. What could she have done that she couldn’t disclose to her lover? Could it have anything to do with her visit to Miriam Boudreaux? Kat shuddered as she thought of Miriam’s lecherous expression and the way she’d… Suddenly aware that Bett was waiting for her response, Kathleen jerked herself away from those intolerable memories, but her voice sounded hollow, even to herself. “Of course you can use our guest room. Whit’s still not back home, so it will be just us.” She took a moment, and when she spoke again, she sounded more normal. “And don’t be cross if I can’t overcome the temptation to ask about your mystery deed.”

  “I’ll tell you all about it after Monday’s hearing, I promise. Thank you, Kathleen. I’ll be over shortly.”

  * * *

  Ramrod straight, Lieutenant Gale Rains sat among the other officers in the hearing room at 0955 Monday morning. Knowing that it was very likely she’d be called upon to speak in two possible ways—against Boudreaux or to defend herself—she’d taken a seat toward the front and at the end of a row so she wouldn’t disturb anyone when she got up. She also didn’t sit near anyone she knew, in case the questions were about her and any acquaintances she might want to name. Time seemed to move very slowly until finally, a pale and shaky Lieutenant Boudreaux was wheeled in by her physician, Dr. Rosenberg. Heads turned and murmured conversations swelled as her chair continued up the aisle. Major Charles Griffin, who was the officer in charge of the legal department, began calling the room to order. As everyone else faced front, Miriam’s eyes met Rains’s for a second and Boudreaux’s expression changed to pure hatred. Seconds later, her lips curled into a sneer, and she looked almost triumphant, as if she’d won something. Then, as quickly as her face had changed, it went slack again as they reached the front of the room. Though she’d returned Miriam’s gaze evenly, Rains swallowed hard, certain that Boudreaux’s victory would be over her. Was her outward weakness all an act?

  Lieutenant Boudreaux remained sitting in her wheelchair, her eyes half closed as first Private Spillman, then Private Ferguson, and then Sergeant Archer gave their testimonies. Finally, when she was called to speak, the doctor assisted her to her feet, and she leaned heavily upon a cane he provided as she stood before the tribunal. Rains braced herself as the questioning began. Miriam stumbled over her rank and serial number and repeated her response of “I don’t remember” for the first five queries. When Major Griffin threw up his hands, Colonel Issacson interrupted to ask if the doctor could be called at this time. When he took Miriam’s place, the colonel wasted no time in asking him to assess Lieutenant Boudreaux’s health, both physical and mental. Dr. Denton’s testimony was riddled with medical terminology, and Colonel Issacson asked for clarification with almost every sentence.

  “So, based on your experience and your observation of your patient,” the colonel concluded patiently, “is it feasible that her memory is affected to the extent that she has testified?”

  Dr. Denton hesitated. “It’s clear to me that the patient’s condition has deteriorated considerably in the last eight hours. Yesterday I was confident that she would be able to take part in this hearing.” He looked over at Miriam, who had shuffled back to her wheelchair. “Obviously, I miscalculated the seriousness of her condition. It’s possible that she’s on the verge of another relapse.”

  The colonel and the two majors flanking her all leaned away, as if the lieutenant might be contagious. Rains hid her smile, certain that this was not the case. When Miriam slumped slightly, the colonel asked, “Lieutenant Boudreaux, is there anything you’d like to add at this time? Anything more you’d like us to consider about your case before we withdraw to reach our decision?”

  * * *

  Whit was smiling as she walked into the protocol and PR office, and Kathleen felt a surge of hope. “How did it go?” she whispered.

  “Are you free for lunch?” Whit asked, almost wiggling with anticipation.

  Kat glanced at her watch. “Yes, I think I could go now.” She checked with one of her colleagues and picked up her bag, following Whit outside. Her lover walked quickly, and not in the direction of the mess hall. “Whit, what happened at the hearing? And where are we going?” Kathleen finally asked.

  “I’ll tell you when we get to Mel’s,” Whit explained. “Bett’s going to meet us there. I’m not sure if Gale will be able to get away or not, but she was there, so she already knows.”

  Whit seemed too enthusiastic for the news to be bad. Perhaps this was a good time to talk about her evening. “Bett was at our house this weekend. She ended up staying over.”

  Whit’s eyebrows raised in surprise. “Oh? Why? Did you two have too good a time?”

  That would have been a convenient lie, but eliminating that conduct was one of the many relationship behaviors she and Bett had talked about. “No, it wasn’t that. She wouldn’t tell me exactly what was going on, but I think she just needed a break. Gale can be very intense, you
know.”

  “Huh.” Whit drove without speaking for a few minutes. “Am I too intense? Or not intense enough?”

  “I think you’re perfect,” Kathleen said quietly. When Whit turned to look at her, she added, “Or perfect for me, at least.”

  “Is that a fact? And when did you come to that conclusion?”

  Whit’s tone was teasing, but Kat’s answer was completely sincere. “I think I’ve known it all along. For some reason, I forgot that I needed to be perfect for you too.”

  They pulled up behind the diner but neither made a move to get out. “I’m trying to figure out how to ask you to forgive me.” Kat had been staring at her hands, which were folded in her lap, but now she turned in her seat to face her lover. “Bett said I should just tell you everything I’ve been thinking.”

  Whit swallowed, but she tried to keep her tone light. “I’ve always said Bett was a very wise woman.”

  Kathleen took a breath. “Being without you has made me realize how much I need you and how much I love you. Can we please try again, Vic? I promise I’ll—”

  A sharp tap at the driver’s window made them both jump. Bett was waving and gesturing at her watch.

  “A wise woman with lousy timing,” Whit said. She touched Kat’s hand briefly. “We’ll finish this later.”