Tears burned the backs of her eyes as she buried her face in her hands and willed the raging gale of worry to recede. One deep breath, then another, helped calm the storm. Quickly gathering together the frayed edges of her composure, she got to her feet and went about her duties.
When she stepped into the room of Private Harwood, he looked up at her with a smile from his seat in a wheelchair.
“Hi, Nurse Brighton. How’s it going?” the young man asked.
Billie couldn’t believe the difference a few weeks had made in his appearance and attitude. From time to time, Jimmy struggled to accept his limitations, but he’d made tremendous progress. Just that morning, he’d spent a productive hour in therapy. He’d even warmed to the idea of artificial limbs making it possible for him to walk again.
“It’s going along just fine, Jimmy. How are you doing?” she asked, taking his pulse. She studied the color that had gradually returned to his face. He appeared to be putting on a little weight. Considering his previous near-skeletal state, that was a great achievement.
“I’m doing great. Doc says if I keep making progress, I can maybe try walking with crutches in another month or so.” Jimmy beamed at her as he pushed his wheelchair close to the bed then used his arms to pull himself up into it.
Billie helped settle the sheet and light blanket over his lap then stepped back. “I’m so proud of you, Jimmy. You’re doing fantastic.”
If she thought his smile could light up a room before, it practically illuminated the space now.
“Aw, thanks, Nurse Brighton.” He pushed himself up into a more comfortable position then glanced at her. “Have you heard more about Midway?”
She shook her head. “Nothing new to report. I’m sure we’ll hear something tomorrow.”
“And you’ll let me know when you hear something?”
“You know I will, Jimmy. If things go like we hope, we’ll be celebrating an American victory.” She gave him a warm smile, made a note on his chart, and moved toward the patient in the next bed. She looked back at Jimmy. “Do you need anything? Still have enough candy bars?”
“I’ve got three left and I’m saving them for a special occasion.” Jimmy tossed her a grin. “Like that victory at Midway.”
“Don’t pay to count your eggs before they hatch, especially when there’s a devil in the henhouse,” grumbled the patient in the bed next to Jimmy’s.
Billie had tried everything to cheer the grumpy man, but nothing seemed to help. He had been in the Army for more than twenty years, joining when he was fifteen to fight in the Great War.
A seasoned veteran, he’d been injured when a grenade accidentally went off during a training exercise at a west coast fort where he was helping whip new recruits into shape. Sergeant George Haney had been sent to the hospital in Portland to recover from his wounds and would most likely never return to active duty, unless he’d settle for a desk job.
His left hand had been blown off and he suffered from burns on the left side of his face and body. The hair on the left half of his head had been scorched away, and he’d insisted on having his head shaved.
To say the man was bitter was an understatement. Jimmy may have been lethargic before Billie found a way to reach him, but at least he hadn’t hampered the progress of other patients. Sergeant Haney could be cruel and cutting with his words. He threw out biting comments and lobbed insults with the only thing Billie had seen him express that was close to pleasure. He’d tossed so many trays of food at the nurses and the volunteers who came to help, no one but Peggy and Billie would willingly take him his meals.
“My granny always said don’t put all your eggs in one basket.” Jimmy grinned and shrugged. “Guess that means about the same thing. Me, I’m gonna put all my bets on the fellas defending the Stars and Stripes. They won’t let us down.”
“I agree, Jimmy,” Billie said, smiling at the young man as she reached out to take the sergeant’s pulse.
The gruff man slapped her hand away and scowled at her.
“Hey, Sarge, no need to be that way,” Jimmy said, raising himself up on his arms.
“Mind your own business, kid. Who are you to tell me what to do why, I…”
Billie shoved a thermometer in the sergeant’s mouth, effectively quieting him, at least for a second or two, until he took it out and flung it at her. She caught it before if fell to the floor and broke.
“If you don’t like it in your mouth, I can find someone to hold you down while we go another, much less pleasant but far more invasive route,” Billie said, fisting her hands at her hips. She cocked an eyebrow and glared at the disgruntled, grizzled man. It didn’t make a lick of difference to her that he outweighed her by a good hundred pounds and had to be at least a foot taller. She’d put up with about all of his nonsense she was willing to take. “You know I’ll do it, too.”
Sergeant Haney muttered something Billie chose not to hear and opened his mouth. She stuck in the thermometer then took his pulse. In truth, she didn’t need his temperature, but she was tired of listening to him pick on Jimmy. The young man had come such a long way, the last thing she needed was for anything or anyone to impede his progress.
She’d asked the doctors about moving the sergeant, and they agreed everyone would be happier if he had his own room, but they were so short on beds, there wasn’t anywhere to place him. Until a solution presented itself, poor Jimmy was stuck with the sourpuss.
Billie took the thermometer from George’s mouth, checked the reading then entered the information on his chart.
She spent a few minutes with the four other men who shared the room, then stopped back by Jimmy’s bed before she left.
“Any requests for breakfast tomorrow?”
The young man grinned. “All this talk of eggs has me craving an omelet. A big fluffy one with cheese and maybe some ham.”
Billie smiled at him. “I’ll see what I can do.” She adjusted his pillow and set a comforting hand on his shoulder. “Have a good night, Jimmy. I’ll see you in the morning.”
“Thanks, Nurse Brighton. Night.”
Billie completed her rounds and returned to the nurse’s station where she joined Peggy. The two of them walked home together.
They both had put in a long day and were tired. Miss Burwell was waiting for them when they walked inside the rooming house. In no mood to deal with the woman, Billie pasted on a smile and took a quick step toward the stairs.
“You both received mail today,” the woman said, pointing to letters in a basket on the table near the door.
“Thank you, Miss Burwell,” Billie said, snatching a letter postmarked from Hawaii and then gathering the letter and magazine marked with Peggy’s name. “Have a lovely evening.”
Billie handed Peggy her mail and the two of them rushed upstairs.
“From Zane?” Peggy asked, glancing at the letter in her hand as they reached the top of the stairs.
“Yes.” Billie no longer felt tired. Instead, she could hardly wait to read the letter.
“Enjoy it. I plan to sit in front of the window and thumb through my magazine until I fall asleep.”
“Just don’t sleep in your chair again. You practically put a permanent crick in your neck last time.” Billie shot her friend a teasing smile as Peggy opened her door. “And I’m not going to massage it for you if you do.”
“Some best friend you are,” Peggy said with a huff, then grinned. “Have a nice night, Bill.”
“You, too, Peg.”
Billie hurried to her room, gathered her things, and took a quick, cool bath. After brushing her teeth and rubbing violet-scented cold cream into her skin, she returned to her room, picked up the letter, and climbed into bed. Enough light spilled in the open window, she didn’t need a lamp to read.
Her fingers traced over the black ink on the thin envelope, imagining Zane sitting at his bunk writing it to her. Or maybe he’d been outside, sitting on a sandy beach or beneath some exotic tree in a patch of shade.
&nbs
p; With deliberate movements, she opened the flap of the envelope and pulled out a sheet of paper. The note had been written the day he’d left Portland. She wondered why it had taken so much longer to reach her than the gift of perfume.
She closed her eyes, picturing Zane on the train, balancing the letter on his knee while chugging down the tracks.
Greetings, Nurse Brighton!
Although it was just last night that I climbed up to your window to tell you goodbye, I find my thoughts lingering on you today as I head south to California.
It was a pleasure to meet you, even under the trying circumstances that made my visit necessary.
Zane went on to describe some of the scenery they passed, the fellow passengers on the train. She laughed as he described a “chubby little rascal who looks like a chipmunk dressed in the best brown plaid suit Meier & Frank has to offer.”
Billie giggled and continued reading the letter. It wasn’t long or even all that personal, until she reached the end.
Meeting you, beautiful Billie, has been a blessing to me. I won’t ever forget that gorgeous smile. Stay well and don’t forget to write. I truly would enjoy hearing from you.
With deep fondness,
Zane
Billie read the letter a second time before tucking it into the envelope and placing it in a box of keepsakes she hid in the bottom of a dresser drawer.
A heaviness settled over her as she climbed back in bed and slid down to rest her head on the soft pillow. Where was Zane now? Was he safe? Was he looking up at the night sky and thinking of her, too?
Fears for him, for his safety, tightened her throat until she could barely swallow while tears rolled down her cheeks. This was why she refused to get attached to a soldier. To let one turn her head.
The waiting and worrying, the doubting and not knowing were torturous. How did women endure it? How did mothers send their sons off to die? How did wives send their husbands — the men they cherished as lovers and partners in life — off to fight in battles they might never win?
“I hate the war,” Billie whispered as she turned on her side and soaked her pillow with her tears.
Dreams of Zane being shot at, of his plane crashing haunted her sleep. In the morning, she was bleary-eyed and unsettled as she readied for work. At the breakfast table, her jittery fingers couldn’t hold onto her cup of tea and twice she dropped her spoon in her bowl of oatmeal.
“What is the matter, Bill?” Peggy whispered, leaning toward her.
“Nothing,” Billie replied, unwilling to discuss her feelings with so many listening ears. As soon as she finished eating, Billie plodded upstairs, gathered her things, then had to almost run to get to the hospital in time for her shift.
The day proved to be a busy one with three new patients arriving. Billie and Peggy oversaw the process of adding beds to already crowded rooms to squeeze them in.
Jimmy had welcomed the newcomer to their room with a jovial greeting while George had merely glowered at the man.
That evening, as Billie finished a few things at the nurse’s station, “The Very Thought of You” began to play on the radio. Unable to hold back her emotion at hearing the song she would forever connect to Zane, she ran to a supply closet and stayed there until her deluge of tears passed.
When she walked back to the nurse’s station, the women loudly cheered as the newscaster proclaimed an American victory at Midway.
Billie hugged Peggy then hurried to tell Jimmy and the others in his room. The men who were awake, with the exception of George, shouted and whooped with glee.
“Told you we’d lick them Japs,” Jimmy said, giving George a knowing look.
George closed his eyes and feigned sleep, but the other men rehashed what they knew of the battle and speculated on the rest.
Billie went home in better spirits, but still had no idea if Zane was among the casualties listed. Why, oh why, had she ever given him more than a passing glance?
Chapter Nine
“Well, would you look at that,” Bud mused as the mail clerk held out a pile of mail to Zane. Two letters and two boxes could almost compete with the six letters and two boxes waiting for Bud when their crew returned to the base in Hawaii.
They’d spent several days after the Battle of Midway flying ongoing search missions to make sure the Japanese weren’t planning another assault on the island before they received orders to return to Hawaii.
After they landed, they all appreciated the appearance of the ground crew who would service and fuel the plane without Zane and his men having to take care of it.
Once they’d settled into their barracks, cleaned up, and eaten, Bud decided to see if he had any mail when the mail clerk announced mail call.
Zane was every bit as shocked as Bud to see he had not one, but several pieces of mail to open.
“Come on, let’s see what your girl has to say,” Bud said, giving Zane a teasing grin as they wandered over to the shady spot beneath a tree where they tended to sit when they had free time.
“What about you? Did each one of your siblings write to you?” Zane asked with a grin as Bud sorted through the envelopes.
“Not all, but several of them. One box is from the folks. I bet there are more cookies. And the other one is from Aunt Luella. She can’t cook worth a darn, but she was always heaps of fun when we were kids.” Bud motioned to the two boxes Zane had received. “Who sent you goodies?”
“Billie sent one box and I’m guessing the other might be from Rock by the Oregon address.” Zane opened the box from his friend. He smiled at the package of razors, shaving lotion, soap, toothpaste, and other necessities Rock knew a soldier appreciated receiving. He opened the letter, written in Rock’s bold hand, and read about the man’s half-delirious decision to leave the hospital, wandering through the rain, then being taken in at a farm where he was nursed back to health.
“I wonder if that farm is one where Billie and I stopped.” Zane questioned aloud.
“What’s that?” Bud said, looking up from a letter he read.
“Nothing.” Zane looked over at Bud. “What did your aunt send you?”
Bud held out the box and Zane could see several packages of candy and chewing gum.
“You’ll rot your teeth out,” he teased before returning to Rock’s letter.
Rock wrote about milking cows, tending the garden, and meeting the neighbor boy who was full of mischief and fun.
Keep yourself safe, my friend, and know that you are always in my thoughts and prayers. Come see me if you make it to Portland again. I’m sure sorry I missed you when you were here.
“Me, too, buddy,” Zane muttered, then finished reading the letter. He placed it back in the box and looked at the other two. One from his brother made him roll his eyes, wary of what he’d find inside.
Deciding to get it out of the way, he opened it and read his brother’s brief, terse note, insisting he come home to help on the ranch. The majority of the hired men had left to join the Army and the few that were left weren’t capable of doing the work necessary. Floyd was worried about the ranch continuing to prosper with the cowboys gone, and demanded Zane do something to help. His brother had banned him from the ranch and ended what little bit of a relationship remained between them when their father passed away. Even if he was inclined to help Floyd, which he wasn’t, he certainly couldn’t just leave his responsibilities as an officer and pilot.
“Not going to happen,” Zane said. He wadded the letter into a ball and tossed it on the ground next to him.
Bud gave him a curious look. “I hope that isn’t from your girl.”
“My idiot brother,” Zane said with disdain. He picked up the other letter. It was from Billie. He took a deep, calming breath before he opened it, shoving thoughts of Floyd and the ranch to the back of his mind.
The letter was written weeks ago, but he was glad to receive it. It was mostly a newsy note, talking about the garden Billie and the other women at the rooming house had planted, the young s
oldier who she desperately wanted to help, and the flowers that were blooming after they had a few days of steady rain.
The letter could have been sent to anyone who was a friend, but it lightened the weight in Zane’s heart. He opened the box she’d sent. The date on the letter in it was a few days before the letter he’d just read.
Dear Zane,
Imagine my surprise when I came home today to find a package from you awaiting me. Miss Burwell would have liked nothing better than to see me open it, but I took it up to my room. For all I know, the nosy ol’ gal opened it then wrapped it back up before I got home. I like to think she wouldn’t stoop to such snoopy tactics, but you never know.
Zane thought of the pinch-faced woman he’d seen lurking outside, hoping to catch someone doing something she deemed wrong. She probably kept the girls at the rooming house on their toes all the time.
Thank you, thank you for the perfume. Tabu is my favorite scent. Even if it has peaked as the top fashionable fragrance to make way for newer options, I think it shall always be tops on my list.
“Mine, too, Billie, girl, as long as you’re the one wearing it,” Zane thought as he read the letter.
You certainly didn’t need to send me anything, but I do so appreciate the perfume and the fact you went to the trouble of purchasing it and having it shipped. It came wrapped in the loveliest paper. What a wonderful surprise, especially when it isn’t my birthday.
“The thirtieth of July,” Zane said, recalling the date she’d mentioned during the hours they’d talked.
“What’s the thirtieth of July?” Bud asked, glancing over at him as he munched on jelly beans his aunt had sent while he read one of his many letters.
“Billie’s birthday.”
Bud gave him a knowing look. “Mark that day in red on your calendar, Tex. Better yet, you ought to send her something special, but you best get to it if you want it to arrive in time for her to get it by then.”
His friend was right. He needed to go shopping, and soon, if he had any hope of getting something to Billie by her birthday.
Dream of Her Heart Page 10
