With Love, Wherever You Are

by Dandi Daley Mackall

  If you’ve wondered why I asked you to marry me, I suppose I’ve wondered why you said no. Anderson says there must be another guy in the picture, and I suppose he may well be right. You couldn’t have a better reason than to have a better guy in the wings. Or perhaps you just can’t see me as the guy—and that’s okay. Nobody can fault you for how you feel . . . or how you don’t.

  But before I sign off, will you allow me to leave you with the real reasons why—not why I wanted to marry, but why I wanted to marry you? I have a feeling that some of these may seem too little for you to have noted, but they counted a lot with me. I must have loved you, then, because:

  1. You have spirit.

  2. You have ideas of your own, even if some are wrong in my book. I loved that you had opinions on everything, and they were truly and deeply your own.

  3. You didn’t go out with everyone who asked you.

  4. You realized the value of money, but I think—perhaps in spite of yourself—you are beginning to see its limitations.

  5. You respect and even emulate your mother’s faith in “Gott im Himmel.”

  6. You seemed to know what you want, and what you don’t—my misfortune.

  7. You made yourself appear 100% always, yet never acted as if you had any idea how beautiful you are.

  8. You were okay to look at any time of the day or night.

  I wasn’t out of my mind when I told you I loved you. That’s one thing I’m more sure of than ever (not that it changes a thing). I believe that love is when you can see the two of you trudging through 30 or 40 years of life together, and I can see that even now, although it will never be. Love is when sexual relations are secondary to understanding, companionship, and sense of humor. It’s when you care more for someone than for yourself and are willing to trade your inconvenience for someone else’s happiness.

  That’s why this will be my last communication. I want you to be happy.

  Strangely enough, your decision, instead of making me angry and hurt, only served to increase my respect for you and causes me to wish that I had proved more deserving. As it is, best wishes, Helen, for all time.

  Love,

  Frank

  P.S. Andy says that any gal who turns me down must have good sense and I shouldn’t give up, but selfishly, it’s easier on me if I do.

  Helen had to wipe away tears. Nobody had ever said things like that to her, and her heart warmed with every word. He wrote eloquently about love, about marriage, and about her, even though she’d accused him of having lost his mind.

  But it was clear that for Frank, it was marriage or good-bye, all or nothing. He was hurt. She had hurt him. And he didn’t want to be hurt again. That’s what would happen if they kept seeing each other. She couldn’t get married. She couldn’t live like that—her in Europe, him in the Pacific. Even in the best of circumstances, marriage was a gamble. She didn’t want to end up like her mother—lonely, struggling, unhappy.

  Frank had made it clear that their relationship was over. He had chosen to move on, and she couldn’t blame him.

  Suddenly she remembered the letter she’d sent him. Why hadn’t she left the man alone? Hadn’t she hurt him enough? She’d even invited him to come for a visit. How insensitive could she be? He had asked her to spend the rest of her life with him, and she’d responded by urging him to come for a picnic? Or go on a hike?

  Think. Frank would get her letter. He’d probably wad it up and throw it into the garbage without reading it. Or if he did read it, he wouldn’t take the invitation seriously.

  Still . . . what if he did? She would love to see him again, to walk with him, to— But what about Frank? She couldn’t be that selfish. She couldn’t put him through everything all over again. Even if they had a perfect day, it would end horribly.

  She had to uninvite him.

  Clutching the letter, she ran back to the post office. “Jonesy! I have to send a telegram right away!”

  8 July 6:22 AM

  To Lt Frank Daley MD at 11th General Dispensary Camp Ellis

  Received your good letter STOP Ignore mine STOP We had a gay time but I can’t change my mind STOP Best not to come again STOP Always Helen

  “You sure about this, Miss Eberhart?” Jonesy asked. He pulled a neatly folded white handkerchief from his back pocket and handed it to her.

  Helen took the hankie. “I’m sorry. I’ll launder it and give it back.” She couldn’t stop crying. What was the matter with her? She never cried. Eugene used to tease her that gypsies had forgotten how.

  “I’m not worried about that kerchief.” Jonesy stared at her a long minute. “You want to think about this telegram before I send it? He’ll still get it today, even if you send it later this afternoon, after you’ve had time to think on it.”

  Helen shook her head. “I need to send it now.” She paid him and ran outside.

  Sunday morning Helen was dressed and ready before her seven o’clock shift. Unable to face a day off and nobody to share it with, she’d signed up to work on Sunday and cover for Peggy, who had a twenty-four-hour leave to see her sister.

  Since she had a half hour to kill, Helen strolled to the chapel and took a seat in the empty building. The wood walls smelled damp and earthy, like Dad’s barn in Cissna Park after a rain. Outside, geese honked out of sync.

  My Gott im Himmel, she prayed. God in Heaven, but here, too. Thank goodness You’re here, too. And with Frank. I hate that I hurt him. Hurt myself, didn’t I? Hurt us? But it frightens me to care about him so much. Did I do the right thing? It doesn’t feel that way. But it’s too late to undo.

  Laughter coming from outside the chapel startled her. She glanced at her watch. Almost seven. If she didn’t run, she’d be late for the second time in her career.

  She was out of breath when she burst onto the ward. “Made it!” Unpinning her cap, she glanced around to see who else was on duty.

  “Nurse Eberhart?” Hudy called.

  “They said you weren’t coming in today,” Danny said.

  “Hope you’re not too disappointed,” she teased.

  “Yeah, right,” Jimmy said. “But weren’t you—?”

  Captain Walker strolled up, frowning. “Nurse Eberhart?”

  Great. Walker was working the ward? Helen repinned her cap. “Morning, Captain Walker.”

  “I thought I gave you the day off.”

  “You did. But I didn’t have anything to do, and Peggy won’t be back until tonight.”

  Walker shrugged and walked away.

  This was going to be a long day. But at least here she wouldn’t be alone, even if she was lonely. Painting on her smile, she gathered gauze and bandages, tape and scissors, and headed for Hudy’s bedside. “How are you feeling, Hudy?”

  “A heap better now that you’re here, ma’am.”

  “That’s nice to hear.” She started with his right foot, where the bandages had worked loose. “Have you been going out dancing when my back was turned, Private Bolin?”

  “She’s onto us,” Jimmy said. Using his stocking feet, he maneuvered his wheelchair to the other side of Hudy’s bed.

  Danny wasn’t about to be left out. He arm-walked himself out of his sheets to face Hudy.

  “We’d have told you about the dancing,” Hudy teased, “but we didn’t want you to get jealous.”

  “Well, I am jealous. So you better take me with you next time.”

  Hudy’s leg jerked, and he let out a groan.

  “Sorry, Hudy. Almost done.” His skin around the ankle had a bit of color, but he was a long way from being able to tolerate grafts.

  “Well, I’ll be.”

  Helen glanced at Jimmy, who was grinning at the doorway.

  “Guess we won’t be the ones going dancing today,” Danny said, his smile even bigger than Jimmy’s.

  “What are you guys talking about?” Helen tied off the last bit of tape. They didn’t answer. She turned around to see what had their attention.

  And there he was.

 
; “Frank? Wh-what are you doing here?”

  BATTLE CREEK, MICHIGAN

  Frank’s smile dissolved on his handsome face. He produced her letter and waved it at her. “I thought you invited me.”

  Helen stood up so fast she nearly knocked Hudy over. “I did. I wrote that letter. That was me.” A wave of gratitude washed over her as she realized he must not have gotten the telegram. Maybe Western Union hadn’t delivered it. Maybe Jonesy hadn’t sent it. Maybe God had torn it up. Helen didn’t care.

  “Say something that makes sense,” Hudy whispered.

  “I—I . . . you’re here. Really here. I’m glad you’re here.”

  Frank’s smile returned, an even better one than she remembered. “I’m glad you’re glad.” He nodded to the guys. “Hi, Hudy. Danny. Jimmy.”

  “Hey, Doc,” Hudy called. The others greeted him. “You sure took off in a hurry. Where’d you get yourself off to?”

  “Camp Ellis, a place you want to stay out of, Hudy.”

  “Must have taken you a good while to get here,” Jimmy said.

  “On a train that stops every two miles,” Frank said.

  Danny grinned. “Must have had an awful good reason to go through that.”

  Frank returned Danny’s grin. Helen felt like a spectator until Frank walked over to her. She’d forgotten how tall he was. “When you weren’t at your barracks, or chapel, I thought you might be here. You said you had the day off.”

  “Oh no! I did.”

  “Did? As in, you don’t now?”

  Helen couldn’t believe it. He’d come all this way, and she’d volunteered to work.

  Captain Walker strutted over, probably to tell her to get back to work. What a nightmare! And there was no way Frank had tomorrow off too, even if she could get someone to work for her.

  “Is there a problem here?” asked Walker.

  “Hello, Captain.” Frank offered his disarming smile.

  “Doctor.” Walker nodded, then turned to Helen. “Nurse?”

  “I—I didn’t think he was . . . I mean, I wasn’t sure Frank, Lieutenant Daley, could make it here today.”

  “I see. Well, then you’d better be on your way. This is your day off.”

  “What?”

  Walker leaned in and whispered to Helen, “If I had a man like that come to see me, I wouldn’t even ask. I’d just go. Now get out of here before I change my mind.”

  Helen felt like hugging the woman, but she knew better. “Thanks, Captain. That’s really swell of you!” She turned to the boys. “You guys be okay without me for a day?”

  “Sure!” Jimmy answered.

  “We’re going dancing anyways,” Hudy said.

  “You kids have fun,” Jimmy added.

  “Guess we might as well be off.” Frank held out his arm.

  She slid her arm through his and felt a rush at the sensation of their arms interlocked. Thank You, Gott im Himmel.

  They took the stairway down, exchanging grins but not words. Helen wanted to explain why she’d said no to him. She wanted him to understand that she did love him. If there had been any doubt before, there wasn’t now. But she didn’t want to spoil this moment with him, when she felt herself dissolve into him, electrified and joyful.

  As soon as they were out in the bright sunshine, she asked, “Where to, Doctor?” She hadn’t had time to think about what they could do with a whole day. They’d always had to scrape for minutes, or an hour here or there. All they’d ever done was go on walks. Today felt like their first date, or maybe a date to the prom. Her mother had refused to let her go to the prom, even though Helen had been invited by half the boys in her class, even though she’d been elected prom queen. She’d told her friends there was no money for a prom dress. That was true. But even if she’d wrangled a dress, her mother wouldn’t have let her go. She hadn’t wanted the attention to go to Helen’s head.

  “How about Gull Lake?” Frank’s pace quickened, and he gently tugged her along.

  “Good idea. Swell idea, in fact!” She and Frank had strolled all the way to the lake once. It had taken an awfully long time.

  “I’ve got my suit and a picnic lunch.” He swiveled so she could see the pack on his back. She’d been so captivated by his big brown eyes that she hadn’t even noticed it. “We can swing by your barracks so you can get your suit.”

  “That’ll be swell.” If she said swell one more time, she was going to throw up. “I’ll bring lotion. The sun’s pretty hot.” She wasn’t one for lying out in the sun, but they had umbrellas on the beach, and maybe beach chairs. Battle Creek had turned the lake into quite a recreational haven. And sitting on the beach would give them time to talk.

  Helen dashed into her barracks and slipped on her swimsuit, checking herself in her tiny mirror before putting her summer khaki uniform back on. Her swimsuit was the only civilian clothing the Army allowed, and she wasn’t even sure it was officially allowed. Most of the girls had one, though.

  She stood on tiptoes to get one more look at herself before going back out. Even though she knew Frank would be there waiting, her heart rushed as she left the nurses’ quarters, and the pounding of blood in her ears didn’t stop until she spotted him. This time he held her hand as they walked to the lake, and she felt every movement of his fingers wrapped around hers.

  Helen waited for Frank to bring up the awful way she’d treated his proposal on the phone. She hadn’t done much better in her letter. But she sure wasn’t going to be the one to bring it up now or to mention the telegram that would be waiting for him when he got back. It was hard to fight off the notion that this would be their last day together. If it was, then she wanted it to last as long as possible.

  “Can you ride a bicycle?” he asked.

  “Sure.” She hoped she could anyway. One of her friends back in Cissna Park, Anna Schlesinger, had owned a bike and taught Helen how to ride it. She’d picked it up fast and loved riding that bike, although she’d known better than to ask for one. Didn’t people use the expression “It’s like riding a bike” to say that a thing like that came back to you?

  Like a magician, Frank darted behind his old barracks, which they happened to be passing, and brought out a bike.

  “How did you—?”

  He disappeared again and returned with a second bike. “They’re ours for the day.”

  Both bikes were drab olive green, like everything the Army issued. Hers felt clunky, heavier than she remembered Anna’s bike being. She put her leg over and sat on the seat, balancing with one foot firmly planted on the ground. Frank was already moving ahead on his bike. She stepped on the pedal and took off. The bike wobbled, snaking from side to side on the walkway. Thank heavens it was Sunday and almost nobody was around to see this.

  “You okay?” Frank circled back for her. “Been a while?”

  “You could say that. I’m getting the feel of it, though.” Maybe if she rode faster, she wouldn’t wobble so much.

  Frank pedaled onto the grass to stay next to her. “You got it.”

  “You go first.” Helen didn’t look at him. It took all of her concentration to keep the bicycle going.

  Frank led them onto a path Helen recognized from one of their moonlit strolls. Slowly, her bicycle confidence returned, freeing her to glance up from the handlebars. By the time the lake came into view, Helen’s thighs ached. But the sight of the water, rippled by the wind and bluer than the sky above it, renewed her energy. Families picnicked under umbrellas on the beach. Two little boys splashed each other in shallow water, while their mother—Helen supposed the woman was their mother—watched a few feet away. The smells changed as abruptly as if they’d entered a different universe where fresh air and wildflowers reigned.

  She wanted to tell Frank how happy she felt, how happy he made her feel, but he was too far away. And besides, she didn’t know how to say such a thing. Fellas she’d dated said things like that, and it had always made her uncomfortable. Better at speaking her mind than speaking her heart, she’
d turned their words into teasing, to joke them out of serious talk.

  Lagging farther behind, Helen stomped the pedals, trailing Frank up a low, but long, hill.

  Frank glanced over his shoulder, then circled back. Now that she’d stopped zigzagging over the whole pathway, he could pedal next to her. “What do you hear from Eugene and Wilbur and Clarence? Any word from Bud? Or from Ed since he left Italy?”

  “Clarence stays under the radar. He likes the Navy better than farming, though. We haven’t heard from Bud or Ed in ages, but they’re not big writers. I think Ed is in France now. Let’s see . . .” It wasn’t easy to talk while doing the stand-up pedal uphill. Frank kept to her pace, and she appreciated it. “Wilbur is Wilbur. He just got demoted, again, to sergeant.”

  Frank laughed. “He didn’t punch another officer, did he?”

  She’d told Frank about her brother’s first demotion, which happened a year earlier when he’d slugged his lieutenant to keep him from pilfering private shops in a village they’d liberated. “This time he punched a captain. Wilbur said he warned the guy twice not to go inside an old Italian woman’s house to ‘liberate’ the silver candlesticks in her window. So in my brother’s mind, he was fully justified in knocking the captain out cold.”

  “I think I like this brother of yours.”

  “Me too. But he’ll never get above the rank of sergeant, no matter how long he stays in the Army. The only reason he’s not court-martialed is that the captain would have to admit his own crime.”

  “Walter’s his twin, right? Must be hard on the boys to be separated.”

  “Walt does more good for the Army by staying in Chicago and running his wartime factory than he would on a battlefield, but I know he still wishes he could have gone in.”

  “And Eugene? How’s he doing overseas?”

  Thankfully, they’d reached the top of the hill and could coast down. She kept her feet on the pedals, working the brakes to keep from going too fast. “Genie hates everything.” In his letters, he ranted about the littlest things—C-rations, mud, the smell of other soldiers. But Helen could read between the lines. “I think he’s terrified.”