With Love, Wherever You Are

by Dandi Daley Mackall

  “Yahoo!” someone exclaimed.

  “Bye-bye, unit! Don’t think it hasn’t been swell.”

  The others laughed. Someone shouted, “I am out of here!”

  Someone else said, “Line forms behind me, gals!”

  “And me!”

  Even Naomi agreed. “I’m already on the list to go home.”

  Of the seven married nurses in the room, only Helen hadn’t spoken, a fact that had not gone unnoticed by their commanding officer. “Nurse Daley?” Pugh said. “I assume you, too, prefer the USA?”

  “Well . . .” Had there been a single day of the war when she hadn’t dreamed of returning to the States with Frank? But that was just it. It wasn’t just returning. It was with Frank. “Colonel, I want to go where my husband goes.”

  Colonel Pugh frowned. “Nurse, your husband is headed for the CBI.”

  “I know.” She thought Pugh was about to say more, but he was drowned out by the other nurses:

  “Take the States, gal!”

  “Are you crazy, Helen?”

  “You probably won’t be able to be with Frank anyway!”

  Blah, blah, blah. Their voices splashed around her like ocean waves.

  “Helen, you know Frank would never want you to put yourself in danger,” Naomi said. “Even if you’d be away from a battlefield—and you may not be—you know all the diseases coming out of there.”

  Helen hugged her friend. “Don’t worry about me, Naomi. Just go home and be happy.” When they stepped apart, they were both fighting tears.

  Colonel Pugh took over. “Nurses, report to your barracks. Someone there will work up paperwork for your assignments.” Helen turned to go, but he stopped her. “Nurse Daley, a moment, please.” He waited until they were alone in his office. “Thank you for staying, Helen.”

  Since the Paris trip for Liddy, they’d both kept their distance. Yet they’d managed to maintain a friendship built on mutual respect. Helen recalled how they’d sat vigil over Liddy and talked about everything. She wondered if he was thinking the same thing as he focused all his attention on her.

  “Helen, I want you to reconsider.” She started to protest, but he wouldn’t let her. “You’ve done your duty—to your country, to your patients, and to your husband. It’s time to think of yourself now.”

  In her mind, Helen pictured two scenarios. In one, she was singing around the house, her house in the United States of America. Everything in the house was familiar, comfortable. In the second image, all she could make out of the background was a scorching-hot jungle. In the foreground stood Helen in worn-out Army fatigues. And Frank.

  “Colonel,” she said, “I am thinking of myself. I’m going to the CBI.”

  ENTZHEIM, FRANCE

  If Helen had been terrified of her first airplane ride, let alone flying with thirteen Frenchmen on a bullet-ridden service airplane, that fear was nothing compared to the full-fledged, all-out terror of her first motorcycle ride. She knew Frank believed her screams were exultations at speeding through utter darkness around curves. They were not.

  Frank had arranged the miracle rendezvous at the eleventh hour, and she’d barely had time to get to the airfield for the flight to Entzheim. She’d been right about the Army sending him to the CBI. That much, he’d told her in his letter, while hinting that there was more. She hadn’t told him yet about her decision to go to the CBI, so they both had more to tell. She’d wait for the right time and pray for the right words.

  At last, they arrived at a tiny stone cottage in the middle of a fallow field. “Welcome home, Mrs. Daley!” Frank helped her off the back of the monstrous motorcycle. Her knees buckled, and he swept her into his arms. “Looks like I need to carry you across the threshold.”

  She threw her arms around his neck and kissed him. When she looked into those amazing brown eyes, she felt her own eyes blur with tears.

  “Helen?” Frank sounded alarmed, confused. “Are you okay? Don’t you like our temporary home?”

  “Silly, I love it! And I love you. And I love us.” She kissed him again as they stood on the threshold. “The only thing I don’t love is that motorcycle.”

  “Now I know you’re teasing.” He carried her into the cottage that smelled like lavender. Sweet white curtains covered every window in this one-room fairy tale. Sergeant Whigham had gotten permission from the owners to use it while they were away.

  “It’s perfect, like my husband.”

  He set her down. “I know it’s tiny, Tiny. The bed pulls from the wall, and the kitchen is just a big hot plate. I wanted to have the fire going, but I was afraid to leave it burning.” He made a move for the logs stacked beside the blackened stone fireplace.

  “I have a better idea for getting warm.”

  He dropped the logs and came to her.

  The next morning, Frank apologized a hundred times for leaving Helen on her own, but he had over two hundred injections that had to be given to clear a unit for travel, plus a dozen patients with serious-enough complications that he couldn’t leave them to the medics.

  Neither of them had said a word about assignments. She suspected Frank didn’t want to spoil this present paradise by talking about their separation, since he probably thought she’d be going to America with the other married nurses. In the airplane, she’d had time to think. And by now, she knew her husband well enough to anticipate his initial reaction to her news. He wouldn’t like it. But eventually, he’d see she’d done the right thing. This way they’d have a chance for more reunions. They might not end up in the same location, but at least she wouldn’t be an ocean away from him.

  Frank had stocked the small icebox, and she started simmering vegetables and stock to make chicken noodle soup. Lunch for her husband. This was what she’d believed could never make her happy. Helen had grown up cooking and cleaning, and she’d vowed that she would never get trapped into domesticity. Yet she couldn’t stop smiling as she cooked, and she kept catching herself humming while she dusted. Helen had never felt so “wifely,” and she wanted always to feel this way.

  “Darling, I’m home!” Frank shouted as his noisy motorcycle groaned to silence.

  Helen had heard him coming, rushed to the tiny bathroom mirror to check her hair, then dashed to the doorway and waved to her home-coming husband. “I love those words!”

  “And I love you!”

  They ate a quick lunch, and then both of them jumped on the cycle to do house calls. “First stop is to a family and their big-headed baby,” Frank explained.

  “What does the baby have?” Helen had seen babies with various syndromes that presented in larger-than-normal heads.

  “Nothing like that. The baby’s fine. It’s their other eight children. Had your tetanus shot?”

  He knew she had. “And typhoid, and everything else.” She stopped herself just short of adding, “I am on my way to the Pacific, you know.” But she didn’t want to ruin the magic of enjoying now. The CBI was the elephant in the otherwise-perfect room. She didn’t want it unleashed until it had to be.

  The following day at the airfield, Frank introduced Helen by saying, “Men, this is my wife, Lieutenant Helen Daley, the most wonderful woman in the world.”

  “That’s what he says even when you’re not here, Lieutenant,” said a man whose eyes reminded her of their old family doctor in Cissna Park.

  “Helen, I’d like you to meet Sergeant Whigham, my right-hand man.”

  Helen liked him immediately. “Sergeant, thank you! We love the cottage you found for us.”

  “My pleasure.” He nodded to Frank, and something she couldn’t identify passed between them.

  Only after Frank finished work in the dispensary did she learn the secret. When they went out to the motorcycle, a picnic basket was sitting on the patched seat.

  Frank drove slowly to the woods, where spring flourished, with trees leafing and birds singing. They watched the sun set while picnicking on an Army blanket and eating fried chicken that tasted better than cavia
r. They talked until the sun left the woods dark with little warning. Then they rode “home” under stars that shone like they had in Battle Creek such a long time ago.

  That night, Helen’s last night in Entzheim, neither of them slept, though both pretended to. Finally, Helen sat up. “Should we talk about the elephant in the room?”

  Frank sat up beside her. “The Chinese elephant? Right. I know you saw in my letter that I’ll be going to the CBI.”

  “I did. And—”

  “Hang on, darling. Let me get this out. I’ve rehearsed it in my head a thousand times. I am going to the CBI. And I’ve volunteered to lead what’s left of Major Bradford’s unit, which boils down to Sergeant Whigham and me. But I want to help work at peace for the world, like Will talked about, even though it will mean I’ll stay there longer. I know I should have talked to you first. If I could have, Helen, I would have. Please try to understand.”

  “I think it’s wonderful, Frankie!”

  “You do?” He looked so relieved she laughed. “I’m not positive how it’s going to work out,” he said. “But it won’t be quick, transitioning from war to peace. We’ll have to finish this war first, with Japan. And our unit will be part of the occupation. It means I’ll be gone for a long time. I know we planned on going back to the States together, darling, but I think we both knew that was unrealistic.”

  “Frank?” She didn’t know whether to laugh or to cry out of frustration. He wasn’t letting her get a word in edgewise.

  “I was thinking that once you’re in the States, you could stay with your mother in Cissna Park. Wouldn’t it be good to be with Eugene for a while? Or with my parents and Dot—she’d love that. Or maybe you’d be happier in Evanston. You could work at the hospital until—”

  “Frank! I’m not doing any of that!”

  He stared at her as if she’d slapped his face. “Okay. Of course. It’s your decision where you want to be once you get the transport back to the States.”

  “Silly, I’m not going to the States.”

  “What are you talking about? Everyone says married nurses get to go back home as soon as transport is freed up.”

  “Not me. You’re my home. I’m going to the CBI with you.”

  Frank got out of bed so fast, Helen nearly toppled out too. “Tell me you’re kidding!”

  “I told Colonel Pugh I didn’t want to go to the States without my husband. This way, with both of us in the CBI, we’ll have a chance to get together. Don’t you see?”

  “Helen! I can’t believe you did that! What were you thinking? We’re not playing house! It’s still war. People die! Japan may not surrender for months, years! And even then, my unit will be part of the occupation.”

  “So will I.” Her anger was beginning to match his.

  “No.”

  “Excuse me?”

  “I said no. You’re not going.”

  Helen tried to control her temper, but it wasn’t easy. “Look. I’m a big girl. I can take care of myself and—”

  “You can’t! That’s just it.”

  “What are you talking about?”

  “If you tag along—”

  “Tag along?” Who did he think he was? She was a soldier. She’d volunteered for overseas duty before she ever met him. He had no idea the things she’d done, the patients she’d saved. And lost.

  Frank paced beside the bed. “If you follow me, Helen, I’ll have to take care of you. And that’s not what I want.”

  Something inside of her snapped, stopped.

  He went on, filling the void between them with words as sharp as daggers. “I’m sorry, Helen. But I forbid it. I can’t handle having you there, having to worry about you, trying to find ways to get us together. It would be too distracting. I just can’t do it. I don’t want to do it.”

  “I forbid it”? “Too distracting”?

  Helen’s heart hurt from pounding in her chest. She would not cry. He could not hurt her. And he couldn’t tell her what to do.

  She lay down, turning her back on him. Fine. She’d never really wanted to go anywhere but the US when the war ended. “I’ll talk to John—Colonel Pugh—tomorrow as soon as I get back.”

  She felt him ease back into bed and could hear his heavy breathing. “Good night, Helen,” he said, not touching her.

  She didn’t answer. If she knew anything, she knew this was not a good night.

  RENNES, FRANCE

  Helen didn’t remember much about her return flight in the service plane. She and Frank had barely said two words to each other before she crammed in with an entire unit of French soldiers. Her mind kept replaying Frank’s words. Hurtful, horrible words that seemed to come from someone she didn’t know. Was that the real Frank? How would she know? Maybe her Frankie was a product of her imagination, a wartime fantasy. The war—and the fantasy—were over. And this was marriage, her marriage, over which she had no control.

  She expected to be flooded with questions when she returned to the nurses’ barracks in the late afternoon. She’d made it in time for the next shift, but she wanted to wash up before she faced everyone. She’d have to find Colonel Pugh and get him to put in her request to change assignments.

  She turned into the barracks and nearly collided with Peggy. “Sorry,” Helen said. She’d have to tell Peggy she wouldn’t be staying with the unit now.

  “Helen? Are you just getting back?”

  “Yes. Why? What’s up?” Helen had never seen the gal so flustered.

  “Oh, honey, while you were gone, something happened.”

  Helen felt a tightness in her chest. “Tell me.”

  “Honey, it’s Bill.”

  Tears sprang without warning. She felt dizzy. “Bill? Is he—?”

  “No. He’s not dead.”

  Relief came and went as Helen fixed on Peggy’s unchanging expression. “What is he then? Is he okay?”

  Peggy put a hand on her shoulder. “Come and sit down.”

  “No!” She drew back. “Where’s Bill?”

  Peggy took a deep breath and nodded. “Okay. It wasn’t long after you left. We ran out of needles. Can you imagine that? No needles? Bill said he’d take care of it . . . like he always does.” She swallowed. Helen was afraid she wouldn’t go on. “He was gone too long. A couple of us went looking for him when we finished our shift. Colonel Pugh was the one who found him.”

  Helen thought of a million questions. None of them would come out.

  “He was by the river. Unconscious, probably left for dead. We don’t know what happened. Or who did it. Or why.” Peggy was crying now. “He had the needles in his fist.”

  Helen couldn’t stop her tears. She didn’t even try. “I want to see him.” He had to be on the ward. She turned and headed that way. Peggy called to her, but Helen didn’t listen. All she could think about was Bill. It wasn’t right. Or fair. The war was over. How could this happen? And to Bill! Wonderful Bill, who had been her right-hand man, her go-to guy, her buddy. She’d known Bill longer than she’d known her own husband. She’d spent more time with him.

  Once on the ward, she blocked out everything and everyone and looked for Bill. He wasn’t hard to find. His lanky frame hung over a bed shoved to the back corner. She ran past patients and didn’t stop until she was at Bill’s side. His head was bandaged, the white gauze wrapped around his forehead like a turban. The one eye she could see was shut. She studied his face. Except for the bandage, he looked perfectly fine. Her heart stopped pounding as she took his big hand in hers. “Bill, what did you do?”

  He stirred, his hand slipping from hers. “Nurse? Nurse Daley?” His voice sounded like an old man’s. Not Bill’s. Not teasing, fun-loving Bill’s.

  “I’m here, Bill.” She took his hand again and held on. “I go away for a couple of days, and look what happens.” She was aware that her own voice sounded as old as his. All the teasing had gone out of her, too. “Are you okay? Are you in any pain?” She wanted to ask him if he knew who did it. She would take care of them
herself. “Bill?”

  “Not now.” He rolled over to face the wall, turning his back on Helen.

  Naomi walked up to them and put her hands on Helen’s shoulders. “Why don’t you both get some rest? You can talk tomorrow.”

  “I want to talk now!” Helen insisted.

  “I don’t want to talk to her,” Bill said.

  Helen felt cut to the core. Again. First Frank, and now Bill? “Come on. How many patients have we treated who were a lot worse off than you are? Honestly. I can’t even see a scratch on you.”

  Naomi took Helen’s hand and tried to pull her away.

  Helen yanked her hand back. “Bill, this is ridiculous! Talk to me. Look at me, will you?” Her voice was too loud, but she couldn’t help it. “Look at me!”

  “I can’t.” His voice was muffled.

  “Don’t be stupid. Of course you can.”

  And still he wouldn’t look at her. “Didn’t they tell you? I’m blind.”

  Lt. Helen E. Daley

  Rennes, France

  23 May 1945

  Dear Frank,

  I hardly know what to write, which makes sense, as I hardly knew what to say to you when I left you at the airstrip in Entzheim. Of all the seasons of this war, this recent one may be the hardest. And yet they claim the war is over here. I feel as if a bubble has burst and I no longer know what was real, or what is real now.

  I am sad that you chose not to be with me, or at least to have the chance of our being together. I don’t understand, but I do want you to know that I’ll be all right until you finish doing what you feel you must. Colonel Pugh was able to rescind my previous assignment. The gals and I will work in a hospital on the coast of France while we await transport.

  Bill Chitwood, the ward master from Battle Creek and one of my best friends over here, was struck on the head and left for dead. He did not die, but he is totally blind. I thought you would like to know.