He laughed, a lovely, genuine laugh. “The Pacific. I love the heat. When I get out of this, I’m thinking about starting a practice in Miami, or maybe California, somewhere I can play tennis every day without shoveling snow off the courts.” He looked down at her. “How about you? Pacific or European?”
“I can’t stand the heat, so I asked for Europe.”
“Ah.” He sounded disappointed. Was he? Was she?
“When do you think they’ll send your unit over?” She wasn’t making conversation. She cared about this answer—more than she wanted to. The last thing she needed was to get caught up with a carefree doctor who only wanted to practice medicine so he could play tennis and lie on beaches.
“Your guess is as good as mine. The whole Army thing is hurry up and wait. They don’t really need me here, now that the disease unit’s up and running. Those patients are going to be there a long time, but most of them are ambulatory and noncrisis.” They’d reached her quarters, but neither of them made a move to leave. “Before you got here, Helen, I felt like I was ready to go overseas and get on with it. Get it over with and come back for my real life.”
The words before you got here played in her head. “And now?”
He moved in front of her and put his hands on her shoulders. She felt caught up in his dark, bottomless eyes. She was sinking, drowning. Panic gripped her, stealing her breath. She did not want to feel like this—not now, not here. Not ever.
She backed away and glanced down at the sidewalk, where tufts of grass between cracks looked like fingers trying to get out of the concrete. “Thanks for the walk. And the stars. The constellations. Tomorrow’s visiting day. I have to get there early. I better go in.” She was talking too fast, but she couldn’t help it. She bolted for the barracks and stumbled over his boot. He caught her elbow, preventing her from crashing. “Thanks,” she muttered. “’Night.”
The next morning, in spite of herself, Helen felt an excitement as she brushed her hair and pulled on her cap. She hadn’t slept much, so she should have been dragging.
“What’s with you?” asked Peggy O’Hare, one of the nurses from New York who’d arrived the same day as Helen. None of the nurses had much time to get to know one another, but Peggy seemed like a good gal. She had curly red hair, and Helen would bet she had the temper to go with it.
“What do you mean?” Helen tugged her uniform straight.
Peggy stared at Helen’s reflection in her tiny mirror propped against her bedroll. “You’re ready an hour early, and you’ve been humming for the last thirty minutes.”
“I have? Gee, I’m sorry. I didn’t realize—”
“Exactly. You’re humming without realizing it. And you’re . . . okay, don’t tell anyone I used the word . . . glowing.”
Helen felt her cheeks flush. “I am not! It’s just hot in here.”
“Right. And this has nothing to do with that extremely handsome lieutenant who walks you home every night.” Peggy yanked out a curler from her chin-short bob and yawned. “Kiddo, if I had that waiting for me, I’d be up hours early too.”
“He is pretty swell, isn’t he?”
Frank was waiting when she stepped into the surprisingly muggy morning. His back was turned, and for a second she stopped and took in the sight of him, his broad shoulders and lean build, his slightly crooked hat. When he turned around, his smile pierced her heart. Corny, but that’s how it felt.
“Helen!” He waved as if they hadn’t seen each other in years, rather than hours.
“You’re up early.” She fell in beside him and looped her arm through his. “You could have slept in, I’ll bet.”
“Everybody else in my barracks is snoring so loud, I don’t think I could have slept if I’d wanted to.” He grinned down at her. “And I didn’t want to.” They walked a few paces. “Saturdays are the worst on the disease ward. Patients know the other wards get visitors. Do you have families coming in?”
Helen nodded. “Quite a few. We’ll need to get the boys all spiffied up. For some of them, this will be the first time they’ve seen their families since they left for the war.”
“And the first time their families have seen them,” Frank added. “That can’t be easy on anybody.”
“I think it will really help some of the patients. Once they get their prostheses and get going on rehab, they can pick it up at home. So their families are important to recovery.”
“Any chance you can get off at noon?” He glanced at the murky sky. “Lartz says it’s supposed to clear. I thought we could go on a picnic.”
Helen smiled. “You and Lartz?”
He laughed. “Right. Lartz was my first choice. But since he’s already got a picnic date, I thought of you. What do you say?”
She sighed. “I’d love a picnic, even if I am your second choice. I just don’t know if I can get off. Or if the visitors will be gone by then. You should probably go ahead without me.”
“Are you kidding? There’s no picnic for me without you, Nurse. And with you, it’s always a picnic.”
“You, sir, don’t know me very well.”
“I’m working on it.”
He walked her up the four flights, and they said good-bye at the door to her ward.
The second she walked in, Helen saw chaos. Half a dozen ward boys struggled to get patients dressed or bathed or into wheelchairs. Bill Chitwood shouted orders.
Ramona, the night nurse, came shuffling up. “Thank heavens you’re here!”
“Rough night?”
Ramona was already putting on her sweater. “I’ve got to get out of here. You mind? I don’t know which patients are worse—the ones getting visitors or the ones not getting visitors.” She grabbed her pack. “Good luck. You’re going to need it.”
“She’s here! Nurse! Lieutenant Eberhart! Over here!” Jimmy motioned with his head, the best he could do with no arms. He occupied one of the older wheelchairs. Its seat needed re-caning, and the wooden arms tilted out as if ready to applaud.
“Hi, Jimmy!” she called. “You’re looking good, guy.” His uniform was too big. She wanted to pin up the sleeves so they wouldn’t flap like deflated wings. But somebody had slicked back his hair and tucked in his shirt.
Danny sat on the edge of his bed, using his forearms to balance his stump legs. “Can you get them to hurry up with my wheelchair?”
“I’ll see what I can do.” She took off toward the nurses’ station.
“And Hudy wants one too!” Danny called.
Helen glanced back at Hudy, still wrapped like a mummy. She’d figured out how to position the bandages so he could move in bed. Yesterday he’d sat up for a half hour, although she knew it must have been painful. She couldn’t imagine getting his burned body into a wheelchair, but she wasn’t about to hold him back. “Hudy? Is Danny right? You want to get up in the chair?”
“I reckon,” Hudy answered.
“You got it.” She flagged down Bill Chitwood. It hadn’t taken her long to learn that he was her go-to guy. She didn’t ask where he got the things she needed, and he didn’t offer. “Bill, Hudy needs a wheelchair, and so does Danny. Can you round up two more?”
Bill didn’t blink. “Comin’ right up.” He took off for parts unknown.
Helen dashed to the nurses’ station and checked charts, making sure the meds had been given. She’d see that Hudy got his morphine right before visiting hours, although she wasn’t sure if he’d be getting any visitors.
Four extra duty nurses floated on the floor now, but they could have used twice that many. The stench of sweat, rubbing alcohol, and uneaten hot cereal permeated every aisle in the ward. Helen kept trying to work her way back to Danny and Hudy, but she got roped into changing bandages on a sergeant who wouldn’t let anyone else dress his wounds. After that, two patients needed help with their prostheses, which they wanted to be in perfect working order for showing off to their wives, who were traveling in together from Minnesota.
By the time she got back to Danny, h
e was doing wheelies in his wheelchair, making Jimmy laugh so hard that one of the nurses kept shushing him. Hudy’s chair was parked beside the bed, but Hudy was exactly where she’d left him, lying in bed. How on earth would she manage getting him into a chair?
She grabbed the clipboard on her way over and glanced down the list of visitors. Danny’s parents were near the top of the list, which meant they’d registered the first chance they got. Everybody had to go through proper channels or they weren’t even allowed in the building. She scanned the visitor list twice but didn’t see sign-ups for Jimmy or Hudy. Poor Hudy didn’t need to put himself through the agony of getting into that chair when he didn’t even have a visitor.
Helen returned the clipboard and strode over to the boys.
“That’s her, ain’t it?” Hudy said. “I can tell those footsteps anywheres.”
“You’re something, Hudy,” Danny said, wheeling his chair next to Jimmy’s.
Jimmy had one of his bandaged feet draped over Hudy’s chair, as if somebody might steal it. “You better get a couple of them boys to help you haul Hudy into his chair, ma’am.”
Helen studied Hudy and tried to read his thoughts in that one glassy eye. “Hudy, are you sure you want to go through with this?”
“I’m sure.”
“He’s sure,” Danny seconded.
“Yep. We’re all sure,” Jimmy said.
“I see.” Helen hoped Danny and Jimmy weren’t making Hudy do something he’d regret. “You know, this is starting to sound like a conspiracy.”
“See? I told you she was smart.” Hudy shifted slightly against the pillows. “Go on, Danny. Tell her,” he urged.
Helen glanced from one to the other. “Tell me what?”
Danny looked at Jimmy and got the go-ahead. “Okay. Me and Hudy and Jimmy, we made this pact, see?”
“What kind of pact?” She rolled the wheelchair to the other side of the bed, where there’d be more room to maneuver.
“Kind of an all-for-one, one-for-all pact,” Jimmy explained.
“Uh-huh.” Helen was only half listening. If she could get two ward boys—no, three—maybe they could lift Hudy and not have to scoot him at all. Scooting would hurt his charred skin beyond the toleration point. She needed to give him his morphine shot.
Danny continued, “We promised we’d stick together on visitor days. If one goes somewheres, we all go. Right, guys?”
They mumbled agreement.
“That’s really nice, Danny. Sharing your families. I’m sure your parents would love to meet your buddies.” She smiled at him, thinking he must have great parents to have raised such a sweet, kind boy. She supposed most of the boys would be so excited about seeing their families they’d forget about anyone else.
“Not just meet ’em,” Danny said. “I want Jimmy and Hudy with me. The whole time.”
“Your parents may want time alone with you, though, don’t you think?” she reasoned. “They haven’t seen you for so—”
“No!” Danny’s face hardened to stone, and his eyes narrowed to black slits. He looked older, like a soldier instead of a boy. The transformation took her by surprise. “We made a pact, Nurse Eberhart, and I aim to keep it. We all do.”
“Okay, Danny.”
“So we’re sticking together, Jimmy and Hudy and me. That’s the way it’s going to be. That’s the deal.” He glanced desperately at his two buddies and seemed to get what he needed from them. “We worked it out, ma’am. And we mean it.”
“I’m sorry, Danny. I didn’t mean to argue with you. That’s fine. Whatever you guys want to do is okay by me.” She’d never seen him so wound up. She wasn’t even sure what had set him off.
“Only that’s where you come in,” Danny said.
“Me?”
“We need you to make the pact with us.”
“I don’t understand.”
“You can’t just, like, let my ma come in and push me away. You tell her, tell my folks, that Jimmy and Hudy need to come too. Swear you’re in the pact with us, okay?”
Helen knew she was missing something, but she didn’t have time to figure out what. Visiting hours started in less than an hour. “Okay. You’re the boss.”
BATTLE CREEK, MICHIGAN
It took four ward boys and another nurse to get Hudy into the wheelchair. He was so brave, but Helen ached with him at every move. She cringed each time they had to touch his brittle body. When they finished, finally, and Hudy sat in the wheelchair, stuck like a cigar in a coffee mug, she wondered at the stuff these boys were made of. They were the same sort of boys who’d teased her in grammar school, shoved her on the playground, joined her brothers in calling her Gypsy. Yet the war had stripped them of everything except . . . what? Guts?
“Nurses! It’s time!” Captain Walker shouted from across the room. Helen had to admit the old gal had come through. Without her, they never would have gotten the ward and the boys ready for their families.
Helen jogged over to the other nurses.
“Your cap, Nurse?” Captain Walker frowned her disapproval.
Helen stuck on her cap and straightened her uniform. She’d do anything to help the boys and their families, and it might help them to know the care at Percy Jones was top-notch professional. She’d even salute if it came to that.
“Here’s the list.” Walker gave the clipboard to Nurse Becker, teacher’s pet—not that Helen cared.
“Yes, Captain!” Becker took the clipboard as if it were a secret dossier only she was worthy to touch. “I’ll see that no one gets in unless they’re on this list.”
“Because we’d hate to have a patient visited by an unlisted visitor,” Helen muttered.
Bill chuckled, then hurried off before someone yelled at him for it. After today, he ranked as Helen’s all-time favorite ward boy. He reminded her of a rubber band being shot from one place to another. Only the shooter was usually Bill himself.
“Everyone!” Walker shouted.
The noisy ward quieted, but it only made the rumble of visitors on the other side of the doors louder and more ominous. It struck Helen as a strange sound—not laughter, not tears, nothing like a crowd gathering before a college game or a sale at Marshall Field’s. In some way she couldn’t explain, it was a war noise, the stirrings of combat readiness, civilian soldiers, not knowing what lay ahead yet ready to burst through the doors with invisible weapons.
Captain Walker nodded to Becker, who barked orders to the ward boys. “Open the doors and don’t let anyone through until I check their names!”
The doors opened to a wide-eyed group. Some hung back; others shoved forward.
“Ladies and gentlemen, please!” Nurse Becker shouted. “Form a single line right there. One at a time, please.”
Why? Why couldn’t they run to their sons, their husbands, their fathers? Helen’s gaze was drawn to the children in line, holding their mothers’ hands as tightly as their hands were being held.
Suddenly a short, dark-haired woman burst across the line. “I’ll not be waiting another moment, and you can tell it to the Führer if you’ve a problem with it!” Nobody tried to stop her as she plunged into the ward. “Danny! Danny boy, where are you, Son?”
Helen smothered a grin. She should have known. “Mrs. McCarthy?”
The woman wheeled on her. “Aye. That’s me.”
“I’m so glad to meet you.” Helen shook her hand and held on to it. “Danny’s been looking forward to your visit. Is your husband with you?”
As if she’d forgotten about her husband, she turned toward the crowd. “Michael, get yourself over here!”
A tall, thin man with hair as black and thick as Danny’s stepped out of line and tiptoed in as if dodging land mines. Helen introduced herself and led them to Danny, who sat ramrod straight in his wheelchair, a giant grin plastered to his face.
Mrs. McCarthy threw her arms around her son, crying his name over and over. Her shoulders shook with the force of her tears. Then all of a sudden, she stopped
crying and stood back from him. “I’m sorry for that. I’m just that happy to see you.”
Helen had to give the woman credit. She didn’t know how she would have handled seeing her legless son for the first time.
“Well, Michael,” his wife scolded. “Are you going to stand there all day, or will you come give your hero son a proper hello?”
Her husband squeezed his hat, which he held in both hands in front of him. His head nodded, and his eyes looked everywhere except at his son. “Danny.”
Helen couldn’t stand the tension. “Danny is one of my favorite patients.” She looped her arm through his father’s and drew him with her. “This is Hudy, and this rascal is Jimmy. They’re fast friends, these three, and I have to keep my eye on them.”
“I’ll bet that’s so,” said Mrs. McCarthy. Helen loved the woman already. She was trying so hard that sweat beaded on her brow, but she kept her eyes soft and her voice cheery. They could have used a hundred Mrs. McCarthys on this ward. Helen had the feeling the woman wouldn’t have flinched changing bandages. She might even have sung an Irish lullaby as she did.
Helen glanced around at other groups of visitors and patients. Some were crying, and others stood so awkwardly apart that it made her want to cry. She swallowed that thought and turned to Mr. McCarthy. His head was bowed, as if he were praying, but his sides heaved. She had to do something. “Say, has that foggy sky lifted yet?”
“It has indeed,” Mrs. McCarthy answered.
“What would you say to a stroll around the building? We could take the elevator down, Danny. Would you like that?”
Danny’s mother grabbed the back of his wheelchair like she’d won it in a contest. “That’s a grand idea!”
Danny shot Helen a look filled with accusation . . . and fear.
“Of course, we’ll have to take all the boys out,” Helen said. She watched the tension drain from Danny’s face. “I can’t play favorites. You can push Danny, Mrs. McCarthy. Mr. McCarthy, will you take—?”
With Love, Wherever You Are Page 8
