Dream of Her Heart

by Shanna Hatfield

  Billie had touched him plenty in the one day he’d been in her care, but her touch as a nurse was far different than how she touched him as she did now — as a woman who cared about him, for him.

  What a stupid fool he was to let her into his head and heart. How could the woman possibly see him as anything but an invalid, a cumbersome weight, in his current state?

  Distraught and despondent, he stiffened and she dropped her hand from his chest. He wanted to grab her fingers in his, press them back against his skin. But he didn’t.

  “Come on. We’re almost there,” she said, guiding him forward by pressing a hand against his back. “Eight more steps then we’ll turn left and go into the room.”

  He counted the steps in his head then felt the pressure of her hand against his back again and turned to the left.

  “That’s great, Zane. Now, nine steps to your bed.”

  She guided his hand down to the mattress and he sank onto it, wishing she’d leave him alone while silently begging her to stay.

  Her hand brushed through his hair and lingered at the back of his neck for just a moment. A moment of bliss. A moment charged with longing. A moment filled with memories from those hopeful days in May.

  “Stay out of trouble and try to get some rest,” she whispered close to his ear.

  He drew in a deep breath, inhaling her perfume along with the essence of a fragrance that was uniquely her. The scent washed over the jagged edges of his soul, bringing a brief feeling of peace and cleansing.

  The soothing murmurs of her voice comforted him as he listened to her tend to the other men in the room. When she finished, her footsteps carried her to his bed. She touched his foot, giving his toes a gentle squeeze before she left the room.

  When she was gone, a whiff of her scent lingered and Zane breathed it in.

  “You have to spill the beans, Cap,” the voice of a young man to his right said. “How do you know Nurse Billie?”

  Zane didn’t feel like being friendly or chatty, but he’d be stuck in this room with these men for who knew how long and he’d make the best of it. He settled himself more comfortably on the bed then turned his head to the right. “I met Nurse Brighton in the spring. I came here to check on one of my buddies before I shipped out to my next assignment.”

  “Is your friend well?” An older voice, one that bore the craggy depths of too many years of hard living and too many packs of cigarettes, spoke from the bed to his immediate right.

  “He wasn’t at the time, but he is now.” Zane relaxed and let his natural talent at telling stories surface. He told the men about Rock walking out of the hospital on a cold, rainy night, of him getting kicked off the bus and left in the storm to fend for himself. He regaled them with the adventure he took with Billie trying to track down Rock. He even told them about climbing in her window and almost getting caught by Miss Burwell.

  “But Rock is doing great now. He’s living on a farm and regaining his health,” Zane said, finishing his story.

  “What about Nurse Billie?” This voice came from his immediate left. “She’s certainly happy to have you back.”

  “Yep. She sure never looks at any of us the way she looks at you,” the young man he thought was named Jimmy said.

  “Nah. She’s just doing her job,” Zane said, refusing to admit there was more to it than that. Billie deserved far better than a blind man. He wanted to tell them no sane woman deserved a blind man, or half a man, or a man who’d always fight the ghosts he battled in his dreams. But he refrained. These men had enough to deal with without him adding more concerns.

  He was almost asleep when he heard voices in the hallway and a steady tread making its way toward him across the floor.

  “You ornery ol’ cuss. I should have known a life of SPAM and rice would make you desperate for a vacation,” said a voice Zane well recognized.

  “Rock Laroux! Who are you calling an ornery ol’ cuss, you dog-ugly, contrary, three-footed mule.” Zane pushed himself back against the headboard and held out his hand in greeting.

  Rock grasped it firmly and gave it a long shake with both hands.

  “Boy, is it good to see you,” Rock said, taking a seat on the edge of the bed and patting Zane on the arm. “Are you doing okay? Can I get you anything?”

  “I’m fine,” Zane lied, forcing a grin. “I’m surprised you got word so soon. They just brought me here yesterday afternoon.”

  “I know, but your favorite nurse called to give me the scoop.” Rock’s voice held a teasing note. “It’s sure good to see you, Tex.”

  “I wish I could say the same,” Zane quipped in an attempt to keep the conversation light. “But I’m glad you’re here. Now, tell me what’s new with you. Are you still staying on the farm where you recovered, gorging yourself on fresh butter and strawberries?”

  Rock chuckled. “I am still on a farm. In fact, I bought one. It’s called Double J Farms now. I don’t know if you remember, but I told you about a produce stand I used to go to with my dad when I was a kid. Well, that’s the place I bought.”

  “Wasn’t it owned by a Jap family?” Zane asked.

  “It was,” Rock said, sounding hesitant.

  “I got no use for Japs, no matter where they came from or how American they might pretend to be. No use for them at all.” Zane declared with enough venom to take down a whole swarm of Zeros. “But I don’t want to talk about that, tell me more about your farm.”

  “Well, I’ve got a crew of high school students who work for me,” Rock said. “And there’s something else, too.”

  “What’s that?” Zane asked, leaning forward slightly.

  “I got married.”

  “You what?” Zane’s voice rose in volume, emphasizing his shock at Rock’s announcement. He pushed back against the headboard, shocked by this bit of news. “You’re yanking my rope.”

  “Nope. I’m dead serious. She’s a swell girl, Zane. About as sweet as the good Lord makes them.”

  Zane grinned. “Well, how about that. Congratulations, Rock. I didn’t think the woman existed who could tie you down to a permanent state of bliss, wedded or otherwise.”

  “I didn’t either, but she did. I can’t wait for you to meet her.”

  “What’s her name? How did you meet?” The pain throbbing in his side forced Zane to lie back. Exhaustion pulled at him, but he fought to stay alert, awake.

  “I’ll tell you all about it another day. I think I’ll stop in to see Doctor Ridley while I’m here. Do you need anything before I go?”

  Zane felt Rock’s weight lift from the mattress when he stood. “No. I’ve got everything I need. Will you come back again and visit?”

  “You can count on it.” Rock patted his leg in a brotherly gesture then moved away from the bed.

  Zane listened as he took a few steps back. “I’ll look forward to it. Thanks, Rock.”

  “Anytime, my friend.”

  Chapter Fifteen

  “You know we’ll miss you, Klayne, but we wish you every happiness in the world,” Billie said as she watched Klayne Campbell pack his meager belongings in his duffle bag.

  He tossed her a grateful smile as he finished packing. “Thank you for taking such good care of me, Nurse Billie. If it hadn’t been for you, I wouldn’t be on my way home.”

  Billie sniffled, determined she wouldn’t cry. But it didn’t stop her from giving Klayne a hug. She stepped back and pinned him an admonishing glare. “Now, you absolutely promise you’ll get that disgusting, bushy mess shaved off your face and your hair properly trimmed before you see your wife.” It wasn’t a question, but an order she expected to be followed.

  Klayne grinned and nodded his head. “I promise I’ll take care of it before I get on the train headed home.”

  “Best of luck to you, Klayne,” George Haney said, holding out a hand to Klayne. “If you’re ever in Salem, come look me up.”

  “I’ll do that, although I hope I never leave Pendleton again.”

  “Make sure
you treat your wife like a queen,” Jimmy instructed as he reached out to Klayne, shaking his hand as the man passed by his bed.

  “I plan on it. I’ve got a lot to make up for,” he said, glancing back at Billie. “You all take good care and if you’re in Pendleton, come say hello. Just ask for directions to Sage Hills Ranch.”

  “Safe travels,” Billie said as Klayne left the room, ready to return to civilian life. He’d mentioned his interest in working at Pendleton Airfield, training new recruits, once he fully regained his strength. She hoped he’d be able to, since it seemed important to him to keep helping the war effort in any way he could.

  Billie turned back and surveyed the room. Klayne’s departure and that of one of the other occupants of the room yesterday left her with two empty beds in the room. Doctor Bartle had informed her that morning he wanted to shift some of the patients around. By tomorrow, the room would be full again.

  Doctor Bartle’s incompetent work and horrid behavior with staff and patients alike had infuriated her to the point she wanted to snap at him. The lack of staff to meet the growing needs of the patients left her frustrated.

  But the fact Zane had pushed her so far away she didn’t think she’d ever be able to reach him, made her want to run to the rooming house, climb in her bed, and pull the covers over her head.

  She, Peggy, and several of the other nurses often worked double shifts. Billie had given up her last three days off because the hospital simply needed all the helping hands it could get.

  Dorothy, bless her sweet young heart, had coerced several of her friends into volunteering. While the girls could carry trays of food, read to the soldiers, boost morale, and perform basic care, what they really needed were more trained nurses.

  Weary, and heart sore from Zane’s rebuffs, Billie knew she should leave well enough alone. She’d lectured herself multiple times throughout the summer that she had no business, not a single speck, getting involved with a soldier.

  Yet the moment she’d realized Zane was the blind man in one of her beds, she’d felt like the bottom had dropped out of her world and she was falling through an endless sky.

  Zane was back, yet he wasn’t. This quiet, withdrawn, infuriating man wasn’t the one she fell in love with. No. It seemed he’d been left in a South Pacific jungle on a rainy, stormy night.

  Doctor Ridley assured her Zane needed time to adjust to things. To the idea he was no longer a pilot, no longer needed in the military, no longer able to see. Regardless, Billie sensed the demons chasing Zane had far more to do with something else, something he refused to discuss.

  She’d even asked their resident psychiatrist to speak with him, but Zane would hardly say more than a few words to the physician.

  Exasperated and out of ideas on how to reach him, how to help him heal, not just from his visible injuries but the hidden wounds in his mind and heart, she was at the point of giving up.

  The other men in room seven must have sensed her struggle because several had offered encouraging words. Even Sarge had told her not to give up on Zane.

  “If you can get through to me, you can help anybody,” he’d said, giving her shoulder a fatherly pat.

  She just hoped they were right.

  Billie checked on the men in room seven, made sure they were all settled for the moment, and then went to find someone to strip the empty beds and remake them.

  It was late evening when she found herself standing at the foot of Zane’s bed, wondering if he was awake or asleep. The soft breathing and light snores of the other men in the room let her know they rested peacefully.

  However, Zane appeared tense, the sheet clenched in one hand while his legs moved restlessly.

  In the week he’d been at the hospital, she’d taken over bathing his eyes in the soothing rinse Doctor Ridley prescribed. Twice a day, she poured the cool liquid over his eyes. Twice a day she wrapped the bandage back over them. Twice a day, she reminded him that there was still plenty of hope his sight would return.

  But dozens of times a day, she longed to touch Zane, to hold his hand. To hear his laugh. To taste his kiss. She would have given a king’s ransom just to see him smile a genuine smile.

  Unable to help him until he was ready to help himself, she prayed for him. Wept for him in the dark midnight hours when sleep refused to give her fatigued mind and body relief. Ached for him, for the losses he’d suffered, the pain he’d endured, and the devastation he had to be working through so stoically on his own.

  “You’re such a stubborn idiot, Zane West,” she whispered, as she quietly feathered her fingers through his hair. Rather than wrap his eye bandage around and around his entire head, she kept it just on his eyes, leaving his rich brown hair free to fall over his forehead. Free to tempt her to run her hands through it.

  Most likely, she’d claw the eyes out of any nurse she caught touching Zane as she was now. But this was different. Zane had signed his last letter as “yours” and she intended to hold him to it. Since he couldn’t return to the military, to life as a soldier, she was more than willing to explore a future with him as a civilian.

  It didn’t matter a whit to her if he was blind or had perfect vision. Her concern was in him staying by her side, not rushing headlong into battle on the other side of the world. That option was no longer a possibility and removed the one obstacle her head had insisted she not try and overcome before his injury.

  “I’m so glad you’re here.” She spoke in a hushed tone as she continued stroking her fingers through his hair with one hand while she picked up his hand with her other and brought it to her lips.

  He stilled and released a long breath. Visibly, he relaxed, so she kissed his hand again then held it pressed to the base of her throat where he could feel the steady beat of her heart while her fingers toyed with his hair.

  “That feels so good,” he mumbled, his voice husky and drowsy.

  Startled, Billie would have squeaked if she wasn’t afraid of waking up everyone else in the room.

  “You do this for all the soldiers who have bad dreams?” he asked, his tone more alert.

  “No, Zane. Only one,” she whispered close to his ear. “Be a good boy and go to sleep. You need your rest.”

  “Yes, ma’am,” he said, his drawl evident. The hand she wasn’t holding reached out and connected with her arm. He skimmed it slowly over her shoulder until it cradled her cheek. His thumb brushed over her skin several times before his hand slid to her jaw and around to the back of her neck. He pulled her down until their lips connected.

  The kiss was brief, but it held a world of emotion in it, a world of promise.

  “Good night, Billie, girl.”

  Billie squeezed his hand then straightened. Before she left, she placed a light, butterfly kiss to his lips then walked out of the room.

  She’d taken only a few steps down the hall when she heard a crash and darted into a room to help Peggy settle a patient in the throes of a nightmare. It took both of them, plus an orderly and a doctor to calm the man and get him settled for the night.

  “I don’t know when I’ve been so tired,” Peggy said, her voice drained, as she and Billie finally left the hospital and made their way home.

  “I can’t imagine it getting better anytime soon.” Billie glanced up at the stars overhead, not realizing how late it was. Miss Burwell would be in a tizzy, no doubt.

  “I caught Nurse Homer whispering in a corner with Doctor Bartle twice today. Something about those two seems off to me.” Peggy glanced at Billie. “Have you noticed anything odd?”

  “Nothing I can pinpoint, but it seems to me the patients in Nurse Homer’s care have not been doing well. Perhaps she’s recently had some very tough cases, but…”

  Peggy cut in. “You can’t help but wonder what she’s doing to them. Let’s keep an eye on both of them when we can.”

  “Agreed.” Billie used her key to unlock the front door to the house and she and Peggy stepped inside. Much to their surprise, Miss Burwell wasn’t a
round, but the stair lights had been left on and an envelope bearing their names rested on the table where they collected their mail.

  “What’s it say?” Peggy asked as Billie pulled out a note.

  “Miss Burwell said if we’re hungry, she had the cook leave food for us in the warming oven.” Billie grinned. “How do you like that?”

  “Quite well,” Peggy said, motioning Billie to follow her to the kitchen. “I missed lunch and didn’t even give a thought to dinner. Food, a bath, and sleep all sound so good.”

  “I know exactly what you mean.” Billie took the plates out of the warming oven while Peggy poured glasses of milk and gathered silverware and napkins.

  The girls tucked into the good, filling meal, too tired to carry on a conversation. They drained their glasses of milk, washed the dishes, then trudged up the stairs to get ready for bed.

  “Have a good night, Peggy, and sweet dreams.”

  Peggy gave her a knowing smile. “Mine won’t be as sweet as yours with dashing Zane West in them.”

  “He might dash through my dreams, but I don’t think I’m in his. Not any longer,” Billie admitted.

  “Give him time, Bill. If he was just another patient, not the soldier you fell in love with, what would you say we should do to help him get back to normal?” Peggy leaned against her door, waiting for Billie to answer.

  “I’d say we should encourage him, but push him, too. Make sure he eats well, gets plenty of rest, sunshine and fresh air, and exercise.” Billie sighed. “And let him heal in his own good time.”

  “Right there you have it. The best program for a wounded soldier to get well.” Peggy gave her a hug. “Get some rest. Morning will be here before we’re ready.”

  Billie went to bed, determined to heed Peggy’s advice.

  Chapter Sixteen

  Even though he couldn’t see, Zane had learned many details about the fellow occupants of room seven and the hospital staff he interacted with each day by using his ability to listen.