She closed her eyes and blew out a deep breath. “I thought I could control him…you know, my height…but he kept pawing at me.” Her lips trembled. “Thank you for saving me. I’m not sure what would have happened if you hadn’t come along.”
“Don’t cry. Your kick was a good start.”
Tears glistened in her eyes. “Nice of you to say, but I feel much safer knowing you’re around.”
Ron’s chest swelled. He could get used to protecting her.
Chapter Eleven
The cement floor chilled Doris’s back through her coveralls as she lay underneath the first of three ambulances she needed to tune-up before the end of the day. Finished with changing the oil, she scanned the condition of the axle, tie rods, and the oil pan. Despite the vehicle’s age, there was little rust evident on the undercarriage.
She smiled in satisfaction and brushed an errant strand of hair out of her eyes. Creating a regular maintenance schedule for the cars, trucks, and ambulances gave the staff regular work, and prevented breakdowns like the one Ron had experienced a few weeks ago.
Her smile dimmed. He’d been so gracious walking her to the barracks after the altercation with the lieutenant. She shuddered and scooted out from under the vehicle then climbed to her feet. What would have happened had Ron not come along when he did? Ticking off the completed tasks, she ran her finger along the list.
The fuel pump system was next. Good. Hopefully, the tedium of disassembling and cleaning the part would keep her from dwelling on last night’s debacle. Her roommate had scoffed at Doris’s concerns the guy would make trouble, and she’d even intimated that Doris had brought the problem on herself by looking so pretty.
Was the girl right? Would making herself unattractive prevent being manhandled? She frowned. Just because there weren’t lots of girls around, the men shouldn’t be allowed to treat women poorly.
Doris marked the fuel pump cover and body position before removing the pump from the engine compartment. Fortunately, with this ambulance model she wouldn’t be required to empty the fuel tank to take care of the part. She rotated the pump to check for gummed, damaged, or tilted valves. So far, so good.
Too bad life wasn’t as easy as maintaining a car. Why were men so confusing? First, Ron was beastly, a caveman with his out-of-date beliefs about women and their place. Then he changed his tune and began to treat her like the professional she was. Her face warmed. She knew better than to attribute his playfulness at the pond to flirting, but she’d caught him staring at her twice since then. What was he thinking when he looked at her? He was not the guy she used to know in high school, but if she were honest with herself, she was no longer the same girl.
She blew out the valve chamber and checked for particles that would prevent the part from seating correctly. Scrounging around on the table, she found the oil she needed to coat the connection. The tiny drops lubricated the metal, and she reassembled the valves. Why couldn’t relationships between men and women be smoothed as simply as car parts.
The lieutenant who’d accosted her last night threatened to ruin her reputation. He was part of the military. Would she be sent home in disgrace? Ron assured her the guy was too loaded to remember his accusations, and the whole incident would blow over without a whimper. Why couldn’t she believe him?
A yawn overtook her. She’d lain awake most of the night wondering if she should report the episode to the motor corps supervisor or if disclosing the episode would make the situation worse.
With practiced motions, she reassembled the valves and turned her attention to the diaphragms. A quick inspection told her they were still in good condition, without scuffs or torn spots. She pulled a tin can half filled with kerosene toward her and dropped the diaphragms into the liquid to soak.
Mom would remind her to soak her problems with prayer. She should have thought of that sooner instead of worrying herself into sleeplessness.
She heaved a sigh and pulled a rag from her back pocket then wiped her hands. Bowing her head, she closed her eyes. “Dear Father God, please forgive my unbelief. I constantly run ahead of You and fail to listen to Your still, small voice. I fret about my circumstances, even those I can’t control. Thank You for Ron and his willingness to get involved to help me out of the situation. If there are consequences from the incident at the bar, please help me face them with grace. Help me to walk the path You have set for me and to stop getting ahead of myself…and You. Amen.”
Warmth engulfed her, and the tightness in her chest eased. “Thank You for Your peace, Lord.”
Opening her eyes, she hummed her favorite hymn. The day no longer hung heavy on her shoulders.
j
Ron stepped out of the car and slammed the door. After a night of tossing and turning, he’d decided that a visit to the military regional liaison would kill two birds, as the saying went. The man needed to know about the incident with Doris in case it blew up in their faces. Blindsiding the higher-ups was never a good idea, so rather than simply submit a communique that might get mislaid, he would make the report in person. He would also ask for military police to prevent future issues.
He paused at the bottom of the stairs and admired the sandstone mansion, another country home owned by a member of the peerage and requisitioned by the British government. In America, the house would be called a castle. Soaring towers flanked the entryway, and there were a dozen windows on the three floors of each wing. The intricate landscaping surrounding the building was tired looking, obviously no longer kept by groundsmen. What would it be like to have enough income to purchase and maintain multiple mammoth houses?
A slight breeze rippled the leaves of the large shrubs with white flowers, their sweet scent swirling around him. Border plants bobbed their blossoms from the edge of the once-manicured garden. He turned and surveyed the grassy expanse. Trees, hedges, and raised beds dotted the hills. Picturesque and soothing.
The front door opened with a bang, and he pivoted on his heel. A pair of lieutenants emerged and slapped their visored caps on their heads then trotted down the stairs. Engaged in heated debate, they barely acknowledged his presence. Arrogant pups. He blinked. Did he used to resemble them in his climb to the top?
Enough. Ron scrubbed at his face, then smoothed his suit and climbed the stairs. He pulled open the door and entered the foyer. Lined with windows, the massive entryway was bright with sunlight. Gilt-framed portraits stared at him from either side of the room. Nestled in the corner, a young woman sat behind a large, wooden desk.
She smiled as he approached. “May I help you, sir?”
Wearing the khaki-colored uniform of the Women’s Army Corps, her blonde hair was pulled back in a severe bun at the base of her head. Round, gold-rimmed spectacles accentuated her blue eyes. She couldn’t be more than twenty years old. Was the military so desperate to take girls barely out of high school?
“I have an appointment with Major General Isaacson.”
“He’s expecting you.” She motioned to the marble staircase. “Up those stairs, then left. His office is the fourth door on the right.”
“Thank you.” Ron hurried up the steps, his hand on the gleaming wooden rail. How many servants did the gentry require to ensure every nook and cranny was sparkling? He arrived in front of the door and straightened his spine. This was worse than appearing before the medical board.
He rapped once on the doorframe, and a deep voice barked from inside, “Come in!” Heart in his throat, Ron entered the opulent suite. Flocked wallpaper covered with more gilt-framed portraits greeted him. A stone fireplace graced one wall, and the rug under his feet was Persian, no doubt. Most of the furniture seemed to harken from a bygone era.
Isaacson rose and gestured to a cluster of upholstered chairs near the window. The only comfortable looking seats in the room.
“Thank you, sir.” Ron sank into the chair. The drive from the hospital over rutted roads had been arduous, and the cushions enveloped him like a glove
. “And thank you for seeing me. You’re a busy man, so I’ll be quick. I’m the director at Heritage Hall Hospital in Hemel Hempstead, and we had an incident at one of the nearby pubs involving one of the soldiers from the Ninth Air Force and one of the Red Cross girls. I wanted you to be aware of it and to discuss what sort of discipline should be meted out as a result.”
The major general raised his left eyebrow. “Sounds serious.”
With minimal words, Ron recounted the episode with Doris and the drunken lieutenant. “Such behavior must violate the code, sir, don’t you think?”
“The men are a long way from home, Dr. McCann, many of them for the first time. Homesickness combined with fear and boredom sometimes brings out the worst in these boys. Add liquor, well…” He shrugged. “We need to give the chaps some leeway. Besides, who’s to say the young lady didn’t encourage the guy?”
Ron bolted upright. “Encourage…no sir…I know the girl in question, and she was definitely not looking to be…ah…intimate with the man. He took unwanted liberties, and she should expect justice.”
“Then why didn’t she accompany you or make a formal complaint?”
“She doesn’t know I’m here.”
Major General Isaacson studied him for a long moment, and Ron schooled his features to remain impassive. Finally, when the silence had thickened to the consistency of heavy fog, Isaacson crossed his arms and stared at the vacant fireplace. “Look, I’m sure this lieutenant’s behavior was a disgrace, but no one got hurt, and the girl got off unscathed, right? If I transferred or tossed every soldier who stepped out of line into the stockade, we’d be shorthanded to fight that villain, Hitler.”
“But—”
“Don’t interrupt.”
Ron’s face heated. Junior move. “Yes, sir.”
“Give me the man’s name, and I’ll ensure he’s reprimanded, but your job is to manage the hospital not get involved in military affairs. Butt out, and leave the situation alone. If you know this girl as well as you say, use your influence to encourage her to forget about the whole episode. These young women are out of their element coming over here, mingling with the troops. They’re too sensitive and bound to get offended. She should give the issue a rest and go about her job. That’s why she’s here. Understood?”
Did he have any choice? Ron rose. “Yes, sir.” The odds of the man agreeing to a military police presence were slim. “I’ll see myself out.”
“Good. And McCann, don’t risk your career by being a hero where you don’t belong.”
Chapter Twelve
Heart pounding, Doris dashed into the barracks and changed out of her coveralls. Fortunately, she hadn’t started work on the vehicles, so there was no need to scrub grease from under her fingernails. She grabbed her purse then stopped in front of the mirror one of the gals had hung near the door. A quick inspection of her image in the glass made her frown. Her hair was drawn into a haphazard ponytail, and she’d foregone any makeup. Normally not a problem, her appearance needed to change now that Ron was going to tag along.
In an effort to save on gas, or petrol as the Brits liked to say, Sister Greene indicated that Doris would drop off Ron for his meeting then pick up the supplies before circling back to retrieve the good doctor. A full day, when she’d only planned to be gone until lunchtime.
She rummaged in her handbag and found her comb. With a quick tug, she pulled off the band from her hair and detangled the mess. More digging in her pocketbook unearthed her cosmetics, and she sponged rouge across her cheeks and applied light-pink lipstick.
Behind her, the clock struck the hour, so she stuffed her belongings back into her bag. She tilted her head then leaned closer to the reflection. Her height was bad enough. Why did her hair have to be such a nondescript shade of brown and her eyes set so close together? She shrugged. Their journey was an errand, not a date. What did it matter how she looked?
One last glance at herself, and she hurried from the barracks, slamming the door. Making her way to the garage, she signed out one of the four-ton cargo trucks and grabbed the keys. She checked the fuel level, scrutinized the tires, and tugged at the rope knots to ensure the canvas cover would remain in place. Not the most comfortable of the fleet, but today’s trip was about supplies, not passengers.
Doris hoisted herself into the vehicle, started the engine, and rumbled out of the garage. She guided the unwieldy truck along the gravel lane and stopped in front of the hospital, resisting the urge to check her image in the side mirror. An errand, not a date.
She wet her dry lips and drummed her fingers on the steering wheel. Should she go inside to notify Ron that daylight was burning? Wasn’t he on a schedule? Sunshine warmed her through the windshield, promising a hot day of driving. She’d take a cloudless scorcher over the darkness or a drenching rain any time.
The enormous door opened at the top of the stairs, and Ron emerged, his black doctor’s satchel gripped in his right hand, and a newspaper tucked under the arm. He squinted in her direction then waved as he trotted down the steps. Sunlight burnished his sandy-blonde hair, and his face shone. Broad shoulders strained against his suit jacket, and his slacks hung from his narrow waist. Doris pressed her hand against her middle where a dray of squirrels seemed to have taken up residence. Ron had transformed from the awkward, gangly teen into an Adonis, and she was done for if she couldn’t get her erratic pulse to take a holiday.
He tossed his bag on the floor of the passenger seat before heaving himself onto the seat beside her. “A delightful day for a drive. Thanks for going out of your way to drop me off. I’m sure my little side trip put a kink in your plans.”
“Not too badly.” She put the truck in motion and swallowed a sigh. Why had she never noticed the dimple in his left cheek? “Unfortunately, you’re in for a rough ride in this baby.”
“I’ll try not to fall out.” He chuckled and pretended to cling to the armrest.
She forced herself not to stare his sparkling hazel eyes that crinkled at the edges when he smiled. Rough didn’t begin to describe the trip.
They followed the lane through the gate then turned onto the main road, the truck trundling across the deep ridges in the road, the result of too many heavy vehicles traversing the macadam too many times. How long would it take England to regain her beauty after the war?
Ron opened the newspaper and pulled a pencil from the inside pocket of his jacket. “You’re in luck. I’ve gotten hooked on crossword puzzles, and Dr. Muldoon just received a whole stack of the New York Times from his wife. He shared them with the staff.”
“Nice of him, but I’m not sure how helpful I’ll be.”
“You’re a smart gal.” The paper crackled in his hands as he folded the sheet into quarters. “First clue: seven-letter word for fortified line held by Germans.”
“Maginot.”
“Well done. Okay, next clue which is also a seven-letter word: West African coastal district. Hmmm. That’s a tough one.”
“Yeah, I’m going to have to pass on that.” She grinned. One for two. Not bad. “Move on.”
“That’s the spirit.” He cleared his throat. “Seven letters again. Vast Russian plains.”
“Easy one. Steppes.”
“Look at you. Already a pro.” He waved the paper at her, the tangy scent of his Bay Rum aftershave drifting toward her.
Her toes curled, and her foot slipped off the accelerator. The truck lurched. “Sorry.” Face hot, she rolled her eyes. “Guess I should pay closer attention to the road.”
“We can just talk if that’s better for you.” He slid the newspaper beside his satchel on the floor.
She pressed her lips together. So much for impressing him with her knowledge. He must think her a total fathead. “Sure. You talk. I’ll drive.”
“I can read aloud from the newspaper, if you’d like.”
“No, too depressing. We’re living the war. We don’t need to read about it from some reporter.”
/> “Good point. Too bad Mrs. Muldoon didn’t send the sports section.”
“You can put in a request for the next batch, which by the time you get them, will be covering football season.”
“Perfect.”
She glanced over and swallowed. He stared at her, an unreadable expression on his face. Probably trying to figure out why he’d gotten stuck with her again. “Guess the war has impacted the game. Are there enough men to play?”
“Yes, but barely. Between enlistments and the draft, most of the teams have been depleted. There’s a rumor that some of the teams will combine which will prove interesting.”
“If that happens, picking a favorite will be difficult.”
“You’ve been gracious to discuss sports, but I’m sure you’d rather talk about something else.”
“What else do you know besides football and medicine?”
Ron tipped back his head and laughed. “Am I that two-dimensional to you?” He snickered and wiped his eyes. “I’m a regular Renaissance man and can cover any number of topics.”
Her breathing hitched. “No…I…well.” She giggled and slapped his arm. “Not the caveman as I originally thought when I ran into you at the hospital?”
He fisted his hands and pretended to scratch his sides while grunting. “Absolutely not.”
They laughed in unison, and Doris squeezed the steering wheel. Her intentions to stay unencumbered went out the window in his presence. Time to change the subject. “Can you tell me why you’re headed to London or is it a secret mission?”
His eyes shuttered, and he crossed his arms. “No secrets. Just boring meetings.”
She was no psychologist, but if body language was any indication, he was lying through his teeth.
Chapter Thirteen
Two hours later, Ron was in the cargo truck staring out the passenger side window. He rubbed his forehead as the vehicle did its usual bucking-bronco routine over the uneven roads. Heavy silence permeated the cab. Doris was morose and had barely glanced at him since they’d set out to return to the hospital. One step forward, two steps backward with her. With such moodiness, how had she passed muster with the Red Cross?
The Mechanic & the MD Page 7
