“Our card is the one attached to the box in blue paper,” Jimmy said as Billie picked up the basket of cards.
“Now, you fellas sure didn’t need to get me anything,” Billie set the basket down and pulled out a small gift wrapped box with a card tied to the top of it. She opened the envelope and removed a card with birds and flowers on the front. Inside it read “happiest birthday wishes to the best nurse in the world,” and was signed by all twelve men in the room.
“Go on, open it,” Jimmy urged her.
She blinked back tears as she stared at the box in her hands. Carefully, she unwrapped the paper and opened the box to find a scarf the same mossy green shade as her eyes. It was expensive, beautiful, and made the tears she’d subdued roll down her cheeks.
“This is wonderful. You all are the best patients a girl could have.” Billie took a handkerchief from her pocket and dabbed at her tears. “Thank you so much.”
“Do you really like it?” Sarge asked, leaning forward as he sat on his bed.
“I love it. It’s perfect.” Billie gave each of them a warm smile.
“They talked me into picking it up for you,” Peggy said, giving Billie’s shoulders an affectionate squeeze. “But they decided on what to get you without any help from me.”
“It’s perfect. Truly it is.” Billie rubbed the silk of the scarf between her fingers and thought of the one so very similar she’d given to Zane. Did he still have it? Peggy knew she’d given him the scarf, so she’d known a replacement would be a welcome gift.
Overwhelmed by the kindness of the men and her friends, Billie took a deep breath and tamped down her emotion. “You fellas sure know how to make a nurse feel special. I think this is the nicest birthday I’ve ever had.”
“Well, you deserve the best, Nurse Billie,” Klayne said with one of his reserved smiles.
“Thank you all.”
Billie and Peggy cleaned up the mess from the party and spent the afternoon discussing their plans for that evening. They both got off work at six, so they planned to hurry home, change, and go out to dinner and then to the movies. Billie hadn’t gone since the afternoon she and Zane had watched Abbott and Costello in the silly comedy.
The diversion a movie would provide was exactly what she needed, especially since she hadn’t heard from Zane other than a brief note to let her know he was being transferred and had no idea when he’d be able to write to her again.
Although she knew he couldn’t tell her where he was going, she had her suspicions it would be somewhere dangerous, right in the thick of things.
Throughout the afternoon, people stopped Billie to offer birthday greetings. She didn’t know if it was Doctor Ridley’s special gift to her, or a coincidence, but Doctor Bartle was attending a seminar in Seattle that day and Nurse Homer was nowhere to be seen.
A few minutes before six, Billie stopped in room seven. She thanked the men again for such a lovely remembrance of her birthday and promised to wear her scarf that evening.
“You should take a picture in it,” Jimmy said as she stood at the door bidding them all a pleasant evening.
“Maybe I will,” she said, giving him a cheeky smile before she joined Peggy at the nurse’s station and the two of them left.
The sun was shining brightly in a cloudless sky as they walked home. It was a beautiful July day, with a slight breeze that kept it from being too hot.
“Did you enjoy your party, Bill?” Peggy asked as they sauntered along.
“It was wonderful, Peg. I know you played a big role in planning it, so thank you. And the scarf truly is perfect. I can’t believe the guys all chipped in for it.”
“Well, believe it,” Peggy said, grinning at her. “When Jimmy heard me say something to Doctor Ridley about your birthday coming up, he told the other fellas they had to chip in and do something nice since you’re always doing extra things for them. They asked me for suggestions and I gave them some options, but they decided on what to get. Sarge was the one who said the scarf should be the same color as your eyes. If I didn’t know better, I’d think you won him over.”
Billie smiled, so full of joy she could barely contain it. The feeling of being appreciated and remembered with friendly affection made her wonder if her heart might burst from the pleasure of it all.
“We have a few minutes, Billie. Let’s go check on the garden,” Peggy said, grabbing Billie’s hand and pulling her around the side of the house and into the backyard. Streamers hung from the trees and a table, draped in a white cloth, was filled with a picnic supper. Another small lace-covered table held an assortment of colorfully-wrapped packages.
The residents of the rooming house jumped from behind trees and bushes, yelling “Surprise, Surprise!” The women circled around Billie giving her hugs and laughing.
“All this is for me?” Billie asked, hardly able to acknowledge the party and elaborate efforts were on her behalf.
“All for you,” Peggy said, giving her a tight hug. “Let’s run up and change, then we can have supper.”
The two of them raced upstairs and changed their clothes. Since she’d promised the men she’d wear the scarf they’d given her, she tied it around her curls like a headband, fastening it with a jaunty bow, then hurried downstairs and out to the yard.
Miss Burwell even gave her a stiff hug. “Felicitations to you, Billie.”
“Thank you, Miss Burwell. And thank you for allowing the party. It’s very kind of you.” In truth, Billie was shocked the woman permitted it. But by the color in her cheeks and the twinkle in her eye, she had an idea the persnickety woman was enjoying it every bit as much as Billie.
“You’re welcome.” Miss Burwell pointed to the table. “Now, we should all be seated and enjoy this meal the cook prepared before the heat spoils it.”
“Yes, ma’am,” Billie said, taking a seat next to Peggy.
Dinner was a lively affair with the women laughing and talking, sharing stories and teasing one another. The cook brought out a cake, sweetened with honey, and topped with whipped cream and berries from their garden.
“This is delicious,” Billie said, smiling at the rotund woman who mostly hid in the kitchen, preferring not to be seen.
The cook blushed and scurried back to the kitchen.
When they’d finished eating dessert and carried the dishes inside, the women gathered around the table as Peggy passed gifts to Billie. She took her time opening each one.
Her friends presented her with a variety of gifts including everything from a new writing pen and beautiful floral stationery to a box of fancy chocolates she loved but rarely indulged in purchasing. Peggy had crocheted a pair of airy lace gloves. Much to her surprise, Miss Burwell had knit a stunning burgundy sweater. Billie looked forward to wearing it when the weather turned colder.
Billie thanked each giver for the gifts with true gratitude. After her parents died, no one cared to celebrate an orphan girl’s birthday. Even when she’d grown up, few friends knew the date and those who did hadn’t made a big fuss. But this year, Peggy had gone to quite a lot of work to ensure her day was properly celebrated.
For that, Billie owed her a debt of gratitude and one of sisterly love.
“There’s one more box,” Marlene said, picking up a package that appeared to have arrived in the mail.
“That just came today,” Miss Burwell said as Marlene set the box in front of Billie.
The postmark from Hawaii buoyed her hopes it was from Zane. Had he truly remembered her birthday? She’d barely mentioned it in passing, although she’d made note his birthday was in January.
She untied the string, removed the paper, and opened the box. An envelope rested on top of layers of tissue paper. She slit open the flap and removed a letter, glancing down at the bottom to see Zane’s name.
Determined to savor what he wrote at her leisure later, she tucked the letter inside the envelope and folded back the tissue paper.
“Oh, my,” she whispered, lifting the most unique handba
g she’d ever seen from the box.
“Why, that’s bamboo,” Suzie said, wonder thick in her voice. She leaned across the table and reverently ran her fingers across the glossy surface. “Imagine that.”
The handbag, handle, and even the clasp were crafted of bamboo.
“Open it,” Peggy urged from beside her, nudging her with her elbow.
Billie twisted the clasp and lifted the top to reveal additional treasures nestled in the depths of the small bag.
“What else is in there?” Peggy asked, peering inside.
Billie grinned and took out two fine linen handkerchiefs embroidered with bright tropical flowers in the corners.
“Those are gorgeous,” Peggy said, taking them from her and passing them around for the other girls to see.
Next, Billie removed a small tin. “Macadamia nuts. Popular here,” was written on a scrap of paper in Zane’s hand on top of some strange, round nuts.
“You’ll have to dig out a nutcracker,” Peggy said, passing the tin down the table.
Billie took a delicate pink sea shell from the bag and held it in her hand, gently pulling free a tiny slip of paper sticking out of it.
“Found this on Midway. Thought of you,” Zane had written. That confirmed her thoughts he’d been there, engaged in the pivotal battle that had been such a needed victory for America.
She tried to hide the note, but Peggy snatched it and got the goofiest, dreamiest look on her face before she passed it, along with the shell, to Marlene and the others.
The last thing in the handbag, which had the richest, most exotic aroma, was something padded with tissue paper. Slowly, she folded back the paper and sucked in a breath at the sight of a silver barrette inlaid with luminous pieces of shell in a floral design.
A note scribbled on the tissue paper made her smile. “I pictured this in your golden curls.”
She quickly folded the tissue and tucked it inside the handbag before Peggy could read it.
“I think that young man is quite taken with you,” Miss Burwell said. For once her tone didn’t sound full of censure. Instead, it held a hint of amusement or perhaps it was indulgence.
“Oh, we’re just friends, Miss Burwell,” Billie hurried to explain, which made all the women break into laughter. Billie blushed, but then joined them in their jollity.
They sat beneath the shade of the trees until the sun dipped into the horizon. Finally, Billie stood and gave each of them a hug and thanked them for making her day so special.
She gave Miss Burwell an extra squeeze. “The sweater is lovely and I can’t wait to wear it when the weather cools. You do such beautiful work.”
The woman looked quite pleased and gave Billie a rare smile. “You’re welcome, dear. Enjoy it.”
Peggy helped Billie gather her gifts and carry them up to her room. Billie gave her friend a long hug and thanked her profusely for making her day so memorable.
“It really is the nicest, best birthday I’ve ever had, Peg. Thank you.”
“You deserve it, Billie. You’re the one who always makes things special for others. Have fun reading your letter from Zane.” Peggy gave her a knowing look then left her alone in her room.
Billie put away her gifts, spending time admiring each one. She still hadn’t opened all the cards and notes she’d received at work, so she took her time reading them. Tears welled in her eyes and her heart threatened to overflow from the kind, heartfelt words that had been expressed.
She closed her eyes, full of gratitude for her friends, her life, to feel so loved. More loved than she’d felt since she could remember. With both parents dying when she was young, she’d just been one more unwanted mouth to feed and body to clothe. Even in the places she’d been genuinely welcomed, she never belonged. Not truly.
Here, among her friends, at a job she loved, Billie felt like she was in a good place, a right place for her. Yet, something — some incredibly elusive thing — kept her from saying she felt at home.
Home was something she’d dreamed of for years. In her mind’s eye, she pictured a farmhouse with a broad porch, a plethora of flowers, a gangly dog, and apple trees in the distance. She’d never been to an apple farm, had no idea how one even operated, but her dream was always the same. The place she dreamed of calling home also included a man with dark hair who caused excitement to swirl in her stomach while love flooded her heart every time she looked at his broad back. She had no idea what his face looked like, but she hoped someday she’d meet the man she envisioned. At least he wasn’t a soldier. A farmer was a good, solid option for a husband. And farmers were needed so badly now to support the war effort and provide food on the home front.
Lest thoughts of the war dim the joy of her day, she took out Zane’s gift. Her hands caressed the smooth wood, so different and foreign from anything she’d seen. The fashionable handbag, so cleverly styled, would be something she treasured. But of all the gifts Zane had sent, the seashell was her favorite, because he’d picked it up on a beach while he was thinking of her.
Did he think of her even half as often as she thought of him? At night, when she finally found her way to bed, her thoughts lingered on him. On the deepness of his voice. Those enticing dimples and his smile. His far too kissable lips. And that rich brown hair with the little swoop in the front that practically begged for her fingers to run through it.
Falling for Zane was stupid, crazy, and destined to break her heart. Yet, she couldn’t help it. Couldn’t stop it. Honestly, she didn’t want to. What she wanted was to love him without restraint, without fears or doubts, without the knowledge that loving a soldier would end badly. So badly.
For tonight, though, she would pretend he wasn’t a soldier, but a cowboy from Texas who’d swept her off her feet, which he most certainly had.
She set down the handbag, opened the letter he’d sent, and held the seashell in her left hand, fingers rubbing over the edges of it as she read what he’d written.
Hiya, Billie, girl!
Bud and I were joking around the other day and I suddenly remembered you have a birthday coming up in July. I had to wait for permission to leave base for a few hours to do my shopping, but I hope you like the handbag. It just looked like something a fabulous, fashionable girl like you might enjoy.
“Indeed, Zane West,” Billie muttered, not taking him seriously.
A little old woman, missing half her teeth, had a table on the sidewalk where she was selling all sorts of things, like leis. (If it wouldn’t have wilted into a musty mess on the way there, I would have sent you one of those!) Anyway, she had a pile of handkerchiefs she made and was so proud of them, so I thought you might like them, too.
The nuts are grown here on the islands. I’ve heard a professor from somewhere back east thinks they could be mass manufactured. I don’t know if that will happen or not, but they’re pretty tasty. We’ve had them raw, or baked into cookies, and such. You can toast ’em, too, and add them to dishes. If you want a taste of the tropics, mix the nuts with some pineapple, coconut, and whipped cream. Yum! That’s pretty good eating.
Billie wondered if she could find a fresh pineapple somewhere, or at least canned slices. She’d have to check at the grocery store. It would be fun to make a dish with the nuts that she could share with the other residents of the rooming house.
When we were in Midway, Bud and I were walking along the beach. I reached down and picked up that shell and immediately thought of you. I think because it was just so dang delicate and pretty.
A blush warmed her cheeks. “You are full of flattery, aren’t you Lieutenant?”
I hope this arrives in time for your birthday. Bud has assured me I should have mailed it last week. He’s always helpful that way, you know.
Billie grinned, imagining the teasing that went on between the two men.
I’m sorry I can’t be there to wish you a Happy Birthday in person, but please know I’m thinking of you today. Look outside your window at the brightest star you see. I’m lookin
g up at it too, envisioning you sitting in your room, pretty as a picture, just like the last time I saw you.
You’re a swell girl, Billie. Beautiful, smart, sweet (I can’t think of anything sweeter than your kisses), and tender hearted. You’re the kind of girl a guy admires, respects, and can’t get out of his head or heart.
No matter what the future days may bring, please know how much joy you’ve given this lonesome ol’ soldier through your letters and the memories of those few incredible days I spent with you.
Best wishes to you, Billie, girl, for a wonderful birthday and happiness always.
Yours,
Zane
“Mine?” Billie questioned. What had he meant by signing the letter “yours?”
If Zane inferred he was hers, he belonged to her, is that what she wanted?
Yes, her heart whispered.
Her head protested. What on earth would she possibly do with him? He was a soldier, one who’d already had nearly a decade-long career in the military. Zane wouldn’t give that up. Not for her. Not for anyone. What good could come from giving him a place in her life? How could she willingly fall for him, knowing the outcome?
Love him, demanded her heart. Just love him.
Chapter Twelve
“I can’t see a blasted thing in this rain, can you?” Bud asked as they flew through a driving rainstorm in the South Pacific.
“Not much,” Zane said, keeping his eyes peeled for the runway on New Caledonia where they’d been transferred.
With the Japanese hustling to build a runway on Guadalcanal and take over the South Pacific, American forces were equally determined to stop them. Zane’s bombardment group had been ordered to take their B-17s and fly to Plaines Des Gaïacs in New Caledonia. The island location south of Guadalcanal would allow them to fly search and bomb missions throughout the area, adding to the efforts to thwart the Japanese.
At least it would if they could find the runway through the torrential sheets of rain falling around them.
Dream of Her Heart Page 12
