“I’ll think of a gift,” he said. Bud muttered something about clothes and candy as Zane turned his attention back to Billie’s letter.
Truly, the perfume is much appreciated and I’ll think of you when I wear it.
By the way, you wrote at the bottom of your note a reminder of who you were, in case I’d forgotten. How many bold, brash soldiers do you think I let climb in my window and steal a kiss? Perhaps I don’t want to know your answer, but I assure you, Lieutenant West, you are the first. From the way Miss Burwell has kept a diligent eye on my every move, you will be the last, too. I like living here too well to get myself ousted.
Besides, being a nurse and doing my part to help with the war efforts here at home leaves no time for anything else. (But if you return to Portland, I would make an exception to my rule.)
“I should hope so, Billie, girl.” Zane grinned and continued reading.
I pray for your safety, Zane, and thank you for what you are doing to help win the war. I know enough from Captain Laroux’s stories to realize you are a brave man who embraces risks for the good of his country.
Take care of yourself and know I’m thinking of you, my friend.
With deep affection,
Billie
“Well? What’s she got to say?” Bud asked as he leaned back and looked at Zane.
“She thanked me for the perfume I sent. Took me to task for something I said in the letter, and promised to keep me in her prayers.”
Bud grinned. “She’s sweet on you.”
Zane shook his head. “I don’t think so. She finished her note calling me her friend and signed it ‘with deep affection.’ That’s something a grandmother might write, not a girl who’s in love.”
Bud shrugged. “Time will tell, Tex, but I think she cares for you more than either of you dare to admit.” He nudged the box sitting on Zane’s lap. “What did she send you?”
Zane pulled out cookies and crackers, assorted candy bars, and several packages of his favorite spearmint chewing gum. In the bottom of the box was a Mark Twain book he hadn’t read. He’d mentioned to her he never had much time for reading, although he enjoyed Mark Twain’s tales. She must have remembered what he’d shared.
“Yep, that’s a girl who doesn’t like you at all.”
Zane slugged Bud’s arm with a light punch then the two of them got to their feet and wandered back to the barracks.
That night, Zane lay in bed, arms crossed behind his head, trying to think of a perfect gift to send Billie for her birthday. It took three days before he got a chance to leave the base and do a little shopping, but when he did, he hoped Billie would like what he chose to send. Even if it didn’t seem like it at first glance, he knew the birthday gift held pieces of his heart. Pieces he was sending across an ocean in hopes to make her smile.
Chapter Ten
“I don’t have room for more patients, sir,” Billie said, glaring at the doctor. The idiot seemed to think she could magically find empty beds and places to put them for the dozen soldiers who’d just arrived at the hospital.
“Figure it out, Brighton,” the man barked then turned and strode off.
Billie wished Doctor Bartle would go back to wherever he’d come from. He’d joined the staff at the hospital a few weeks ago and had been rude to the nurses, disrespectful to senior physicians, and acted superior to anyone he deemed beneath him, which was most everyone. He’d even terrorized a few of the patients with his dire, and totally unfounded, predictions of their imminent demise.
The only person in the entire hospital who seemed to admire the man was a cranky, crotchety nurse who’d been treating patients since before the Great War. Rock Laroux had called her Horrid Homer and that title, sadly, hit the mark. Billie had been thrilled when Nurse Homer had been moved to a different floor and she rarely had to see her.
Doctor Ridley was working to find a way to have Doctor Bartle transferred, but until that happened, they were stuck with him. If they wanted to dream big, Billie hoped he took Nurse Homer with him when he went.
“Take a deep breath,” Peggy whispered as she stepped beside Billie. “Doctor Bartle is...”
“Detestable. Arrogant. Obnoxious. A bubble-headed blowhard.” Billie grinned at her friend. “Was that what you were going to say?”
Peggy giggled. “No, but that’ll do.” She looked at the stack of patient files in Billie’s hands and sighed. “I guess we better see about getting these poor soldiers settled. I’ll have maintenance scrounge up more beds from basement storage. Do you want to figure out what rooms we can squeeze more beds into?”
“I don’t want to, but I will,” Billie said with a cheeky smile as she strode down the hallway.
An hour later, she’d made room assignments for the new patients then she and Peggy supervised the transfer of the patients to the beds made with fresh, crisp linens.
By some miracle, Doctor Ridley devised a plan to keep Doctor Bartle busy so he wouldn’t bother the new patients. After being transported from various points around the country, the last thing they needed was the wretched man filling their heads with morbid thoughts.
Billie, Peggy, and two other nurses checked in at their station before they went to oversee delivery of the evening meals to the men on their floor.
“Have you heard from that yummy pilot again?” a cheeky nurse asked as she applied a fresh coat of lipstick.
“Not for a while,” Billie said, hurriedly adding information about their new patients to the appropriate files in the filing cabinet behind the desk.
June had rolled into July and she hadn’t heard anything from Zane in the past three weeks. She had no idea if he’d fought at the Battle of Midway. If he’d been injured — or the unthinkable. But she’d faithfully written to him twice a week using the new V-mail forms.
When Billie first heard about the program, she’d been amazed how it worked. She could write a letter on the special form, send it, and the letter would be captured on film. The film canisters were shipped overseas then each letter printed and given to the recipient — in two weeks or so. She’d heard of standard letters taking six to eight weeks to reach soldiers overseas. The poor men surely felt like they’d been forgotten or abandoned when weeks went by with no mail. V-mail helped the soldiers keep in touch with loved ones more frequently. Additionally, the V-mail forms also cut down on weight and bulk on the planes carrying them.
She just hoped Zane liked the letters she sent. Since she was determined they would be nothing more than friends, good friends, she wrote him newsy notes about the rooming house, their garden, things she’d seen or done, and stories about her patients. She’d even written to him about bitter Sergeant Haney and how even on his worst day, he hadn’t been able to dampen Jimmy’s newfound enthusiasm for life.
That fact made her grateful. Based on his current progress, it wouldn’t be long before Jimmy was able to walk again. He gained strength by the day and he’d even managed to walk a few feet yesterday using his crutches. The look on his face when he took those steps made Billie’s heart climb up in her throat. She’d been so overcome with raw emotion at how far he’d come in the last weeks all she could do was smile at him when he asked her if she wanted to dance. She promised Jimmy she would dance with him when he was ready.
Thoughts of dancing brought Zane to mind and the day he’d held her close in the rain.
Desperately, she wanted to hear from him, to hear that he was healthy and whole. Her prayers always included a petition for Zane’s safekeeping, wherever he might be.
“I’m sure he’s off fighting the Japs and keeping us all safe,” another nurse said, giving Billie’s shoulders a hug, pulling her back into the moment and out of her worrisome thoughts.
“Shall we get back to it, girls?” Peggy asked, drawing the conversation away from Zane and his whereabouts.
Amid groans and half-hearted protests, the women returned to their work.
Billie felt like she was dragging hundred pound weights on each leg b
y the time she collapsed in her bed that night. In spite of her exhausted state, she had trouble sleeping, dreaming of Zane’s plane crashing.
The next morning, she stumbled out of bed and drank two cups of coffee, needing the jolt of caffeine to awaken her enough to function at work. At the hospital she made her rounds, spending extra time with the new patients.
One man in particular pulled at her heartstrings. Something about Sergeant Klayne Campbell reminded her of Zane and Rock Laroux. The sergeant was quiet, clearly a man used to being alone. Yet, something in the determined set of his jaw, the intense resolve in his eyes made her think of Rock and Zane.
She smiled as she took his pulse and made notes in his chart for the doctor. “How are you feeling today, Sergeant Campbell?”
“Well enough,” he said, giving her a cautious glance before he looked back at a book he held clasped in his right hand.
“You enjoy reading?” Billie asked as she tried to see the title of the book, but couldn’t with the way he held it.
“Yes,” he answered, not meeting her gaze.
Billie took a step back and surveyed his injuries. A deep, red scar, edges jagged, ran from his left eyebrow across his eyelid and continued along his cheek down to his jaw. Smaller scars, in various stages of healing, dotted the right side of his face. Another red, angry scar ran straight across his hairline on his forehead, as though he’d nearly been scalped. She’d noticed a filmy appearance to his left eye, where it had been scratched beyond hope of healing. His left arm and leg were both in casts.
The scars on his face would no doubt enhance his rugged appeal when they fully healed. Sergeant Campbell was a handsome man and probably had more than his share of girls chasing after him.
She recalled reading something in his file about a crash landing in China and sudden recognition set in.
“You’re one of the Doolittle Raiders, aren’t you?” she asked in a hushed tone.
He glanced up at her, his clear right eye pinning her with a cool stare. “That’s right.”
She leaned slightly closer and patted his good arm. “Thank you for what you did, Sergeant Campbell. I can’t even begin to imagine what you’ve gone through, but the hope your raid gave our country is beyond measure.”
His stiff posture relaxed and the beginnings of a smile pulled at his lips. “I’d do it again tomorrow if I could.” He gave her a long look, one that wasn’t perusing, but more observant. “Since I’ll be here a while, why don’t you call me K.C. Most of my friends do.”
“That sounds fine, K.C. You may call me Nurse Billie if you like.” She fluffed his pillows and settled him more comfortably. “If you let me help you, we’ll have you back on both feet and out of here as soon as possible.”
He grinned at her. “When do we start?”
“Now, that’s the kind of attitude I like.” Billie offered him a smile. “We’ll begin tomorrow.”
Yesterday, when she’d made room assignments for the new patients, she’d just been intent on finding them all a place to rest. She was glad she’d placed K.C. in the same room as Jimmy. She had a feeling the two men might be good for each other. Who knew? Maybe some of their positivity would rub off on Sergeant Haney.
“You ready for that dance?” Jimmy asked in greeting as Billie checked his vitals and made notes in his chart.
“Not quite yet, Jimmy, but I want you to promise I’ll be the first girl you dance with.”
He held a hand to his heart and grinned. “You betcha you’ll be the first, Nurse Billie.”
Sergeant Haney was even more cantankerous than usual and threw his breakfast tray at the teen girl who brought it to him. The edge of the metal tray caught her just above her eye, leaving a cut.
“How dare you?” Billie said, racing over to the girl and pulling a gauze pad from the pocket of her skirt. She pressed the gauze against the cut while glaring venomous daggers at George Haney. “We’ve done our best to help you, Sergeant, to be kind in our care and assist in your healing, but this is enough. I won’t stand for another outburst from you or you’ll find yourself out on the street regardless of what kind of shape you are in! Am I understood, soldier?”
The man stared from her to the young girl who was crying and trembling with fear. Before he could speak, Billie led the girl out of the room and to the nurse’s station. She had Doctor Ridley take a look at the cut to confirm it did not require stitches before she cleaned the wound and placed a small bandage over it.
“You go on home now, Dorothy. I do hope you’ll come back again, but if you don’t want to, we’ll understand,” Billie said, giving the girl a hug after she’d walked her to the door.
“I like helping, Nurse Brighton, and I’ll come back. But may I please be excused from helping that man?”
“Of course.” Billie waved at the girl as she left then returned upstairs to her floor. She marched back to the room where she’d left the men gaping at her after her outburst. A repentant appearing George Haney bent down, cleaning up the mess he’d made with his good hand.
Shocked to not only see him up, but doing something helpful, she glanced at her patients. From the looks on the faces of the eleven other occupants of the room, she had a feeling more than one of them had taken the man to task.
“Thank you, Sergeant,” Billie said in a soft voice, taking the dented tray he held out to her.
He didn’t speak, but nodded at her, oddly contrite, before he slumped on his bed.
Billie left the room, hoping the bitter man had perhaps turned a corner. On her lunch break, she wrote a letter to Zane, sharing about the new patients and how they struggled to make room for them, of Jimmy’s wonderful progress, and the incident with Sergeant Haney. She posted the V-mail letter at the mailbox on the corner then raced back inside to begin her afternoon shift.
With each soldier she helped, she prayed for Zane. Prayed he was somewhere safe and unharmed.
Chapter Eleven
Billie swallowed back her disappointment as she completed her morning rounds at the hospital. Today was her twenty-sixth birthday and no one remembered.
Not that she had any family to wish her well, but Peggy was like a sister to her. Many of the hospital staff fulfilled the roles of her extended family. Loath to admit it, her feelings were hurt they’d all forgotten her birthday.
She made it a point to celebrate the birthdays of those she considered friends. She even tried to do something special for the patients if she knew their birthday was approaching. Yet, not a single person had bothered to offer a word of congratulations or cheer to her today.
Bothered but determined to hide it, she decided she’d grab a sandwich for her lunch and eat in the courtyard where she could pout in solitude. She’d just started for the stairs to go to the cafeteria when someone called her name.
She turned around and watched as Peggy hurried toward her.
“Man alive, Billie! I’ve about run my legs off looking for you,” Peggy said, trying to catch her breath.
“What’s wrong? Is it one of the patients? Where am I needed?” Billie asked, placing a hand on Peggy’s arm and taking a step toward the nurse’s station.
“Room seven. There’s something going on in there you need to see,” Peggy panted.
“Who’s hurt? Did Jimmy fall trying to walk? Is it Klayne? Or Sarge?” Billie fired questions at Peggy as the two of them hurried past the nurse’s station then turned down a long hallway.
Room seven housed what Billie thought of as her favorite patients. After the incident with Sergeant Haney tossing his tray and hurting the young volunteer, he’d suddenly started to improve both physically and in his attitude. The men in that room all needed special help and attention, and Billie would have done anything for them.
When Peggy didn’t answer her questions, Billie frowned at her. “Please tell me they’re all breathing and no one is bleeding.”
“No one is bleeding. In fact…” Peggy pushed Billie into the room and a bevy of shouts and cheers greeted her. Str
eamers and balloons hung from the ceiling and a big cake sat on a cart someone had pushed into the room.
“Happy Birthday, Nurse Brighton,” the men chorused.
Heat soaked her cheeks with embarrassment at all the unexpected attention while tears burned the backs of her eyes. She smiled and took a step back, grabbing Peggy’s hand and pulling her next to her.
“You could have given me some warning,” she whispered out of the corner of her mouth while maintaining a smile.
“Where’s the fun in that?” Peggy said with a saucy grin. “Enjoy it, Billie. When I mentioned your birthday the other day, the men practically begged to have a party. Let them enjoy it.”
“It’s sweet of them, and you.” Billie gave Peggy a hug then stepped into the circle of her friends. Her favorite staff members were crowded into the room among the tightly packed beds of the recovering men.
Peggy handed her a knife to cut the cake, which Billie did, serving Jimmy the first piece. They enjoyed cups of punch along with the layered white cake, created with a precious supply of sugar.
A basket sitting near the cake held an assortment of cards that Billie looked forward to reading when she could sit and savor each one.
“How many years young are you?” one of the older men asked.
“Aw, shoot, Ed,” Jimmy said with a cheeky smile. “Don’t you know you can’t ask a girl her age?”
Everyone laughed and Billie winked at Jimmy. To her surprise, she watched the young girl George Haney had clocked with the breakfast tray speak to him and laugh at something he said before she turned her attention to Jimmy. With the moony eyes Jimmy cast toward the volunteer, she could tell the affection between the two of them was mutual. Dorothy was as sweet and kind as she was pretty. The girl would make a wonderful match for Jimmy’s exuberant personality.
Many of the men in the room tired quickly, so the party didn’t last long, but it brightened Billie’s day unlike anything had in a while.
She and Peggy decided the balloons and streamers could stay until the end of the day, since they brought such a festive mood to the room and the men.
Dream of Her Heart Page 11
