Homefront Hero

by Allie Pleiter

  “If you had any plans to push me in one of those horrid wheelchairs, I think I’d sooner crawl.” He was trying to make a joke, but the edge of disdain in his words gave him away. He loathed this weakness. In many ways, John had no more made peace with his injuries than troubled Private Carson had. “Besides, why on earth would I want to lessen the time I get to spend alone with you?”

  They’d reached the bottom of the stairs, and he rearranged his stance with a dramatic flair, as if they were stepping off into a parade. She half expected him to wave to a crowd she could not see. “Captain Gallows, do you ever come offstage?”

  “Not if it can be helped.” He twirled his cane before launching them forward. “And you will call me John for this entire lovely walk or we’ll turn back right here. And don’t get all worrisome about my stamina. I’ve already planned to stop and rest at least twice.”

  “A wise choice.”

  “Actually I’m telling myself it’s simply because the sunset is so grand. I expect you to play along.” He puffed up his decorated chest and did a spot-on imitation of Dr. Madison’s Bostonian accent. “No use resisting. It’s for my medical benefit and I am a hero you know.”

  “Does everyone always do your bidding?”

  “Well—” his smile turned from the manufactured one to a grin of genuine warmth “—I am knitting, so what does that tell you?”

  She laughed, once again enjoying the thought that she may have been among the first to best John Gallows at his own game. “That God is mighty indeed.”

  He did not offer one of his clever comebacks. They walked in companionable silence for a minute or so, and the glorious washes of amber painting the sky did indeed remind her of God’s own glory. “The Heavens declare the glory of God.” She sighed without thinking.

  His own sigh held much less reverence. “Do you attribute everything to the Almighty?”

  “I suppose I do. Does that bother you?” She watched in admiration as the breeze played with the fringe of her skirt. Finer ladies would have balked at the prospect of traveling to the party on foot, but she was glad for the chance. Walking—even their slow, laborious laps—had become part of their relationship. She believed they had their best conversations when walking or knitting. Truth or difficult subjects were always best conversed when there was some activity to focus one’s attention.

  “It baffles me, more like it.” He looked at her with narrowed eyes.

  She thought of Ida’s comment about what feats God could accomplish if he ever got through to a man like John Gallows. Even if it were true, it was a precarious hook on which to hang her hope’s affections. “I’m not likely to stop, even for you.”

  “It’s not just preaching—you really see Him in everything, don’t you?” Baffled truly did capture his expression.

  “Even in you.” She wanted to grab the words out of the air and shoo them away the minute they popped out of her mouth. Ida’s fool notions had run away with her composure. Leanne stared down at her slippers, mortified, until John reached out and tilted her chin up to face him. It was far too private a gesture for such a public place, and her face tingled with heat.

  Worst of all was the look on his face; the notion pleased him. Immensely, from the look of it. “I suspect that’s why I find you so delightfully annoying. You do always look as if you’ve just unearthed some new virtue out of me. Have you any idea how disconcerting that is?”

  Disconcerting was an apt description. John was disconcerting beyond measure. She began to wonder if tonight had been a mistake. With the fancy dress and the dashing hero in his dress uniform, she’d started to feel too much like Cinderella…and there was no happy ending to be had in this fairy tale. If John succeeded in this show of strength he planned in front of the general—and Leanne was fairly certain he would, since she knew him well enough now to know that John Gallows would reach his goals or die trying—then he might soon find himself sent back overseas as he’d planned. The brief interlude between them would be over and forgotten.

  Guard yourself and your heart, she told herself. You aren’t going to the ball to be wooed, or dazzled or swept off your feet. You are here as his friend—and his nurse—to help him because you said you would. That was all—all there was, and all there could be.

  They walked on for another block—the second of six, for the base was a large complex—and she could feel his gait stiffening. Pointing to a bench just ahead, she manufactured a wince and said, “Oh, bother, I’ve got a pebble in my slipper. Could we sit down over there?”

  * * *

  John stopped, speared by the transparency of what she was doing. “Don’t do that!” he snapped at her.

  “What?”

  Did she actually think he couldn’t see through her ruse? Didn’t she know that he was absolutely sick to death of people trying to pamper him with weaknesses invented to nullify his?

  “Don’t coddle me.” He barked it out far sharper than he would have liked; her eyes widened in a remorse he felt twisting under his ribs. “You’ve no more got a pebble in your shoe than I have a third leg.” His wounded dignity wouldn’t allow him to completely soften his words, but he tried. “I don’t want that, most especially from you.”

  “I am sorry.” She looked down, and he wanted desperately to put his hand to her chin and tip her gaze back up to him again. Her kindness was a welcome sting.

  “I’d like to sit down, Leanne, but I’d like to sit because I need it, not because you’ve decided I should.” Her honesty had become a precious commodity to him, refreshing in his posturing world of military hierarchies. “Will you grant me that? Grant me the honesty I like so much about you?” He gestured toward the bench, glad to have that over with.

  “I suppose I could have just asked you if you were ready to sit down,” she offered as she arranged herself on the bench.

  “Better still, just don’t concern yourself with it. I promise you, I’ll tell you when I need to stop.”

  She gave him a sideways glance as her two rose slippers peeked out of her fringed skirt. Had she arranged them so evenly on purpose, or was she just that elegant in how she sat? “That’s not what you do in the gymnasium.”

  “In the gymnasium, I’m under Madison’s harsh thumb. Tonight is purely in my realm.” Certainly she never dressed like this for the gymnasium. And while he thought she looked lovely even in her nurse’s uniform, he couldn’t help but be charmed by how transparently pleased she clearly was with how she looked in that dusty-rose color. A little smile would light on the corners of her face when she played with the lace at her sleeves. She reminded him of one of his little cousins, twirling in some new party frock. That had been part of his aim tonight, to spend time with her in his realm instead of under doctor’s orders or the tyranny of Red Cross knitting. “I can’t let you have the upper hand on every occasion, and you’ve no idea how skilled I am at punchbowl warfare.”

  “Oh, I can easily guess. I’ve no doubt the army has the right man for the job.” She looked at him, one eye narrowed as if assessing a student’s progress. “Actually, for both jobs. I have to say I found the knitting photographs a cockeyed scheme at first, but I’ve come to see the brilliance in it.”

  John wasn’t quite sure he’d come to that level of endorsement yet. “So you’re telling me it’s worth the endless ribbing I take from the soldiers back in camp?” He’d heard every version of a knitting joke, many of which could never be repeated in polite company. No doubt Carson had heard even worse if he dared to knit in the barracks.

  “The Red Cross officials tell me they’re in dire straits. If you can convince young men to take up this cause and not feel like a—what was the word?—sissy about it, then you will have impacted the lives of thousands of brave soldiers. I watched those boys in the audience. They admire you. They want to be like you. Your gifts suit this challenge. God’s placed you in just the right place at just the right time.”

  He laughed. “You make my sock sound like a noble crusade.”

>   “It is.”

  Leanne was so straightforward, so refreshingly uncomplicated. Her socks really were a noble crusade to her. Socks. Who’d have ever thought he’d spend so much time thinking about socks? He angled himself to face her on the bench, not caring that it sent a pang through his hip. “Does the Red Cross realize what they’ve got in you?” When he’d first asked her that, he’d found her commitment—her passion—misdirected. Now he was coming to see why she dedicated herself the way she did.

  “Oh, I suppose no more than the army realizes the secret weapon they have in you.”

  He settled for rising off the bench and extending his hand. “Let’s go further convince them, shall we?”

  “You’re ready to go forward, then?” She placed her hand in his.

  John helped her to her feet, tucking the hand into the crook of his elbow and liking very much how it felt as it nestled there. “Oh, my dear Leanne, I was born ready.”

  Chapter Thirteen

  Liberty bond sales were essential to the war effort, and General Barnes capitalized on anything crucial to the war. It may not have rivaled the Carolina Hall or anything at the State House across town, but the general had staged a respectable event. He’d been smart enough to invite several state capitol dignitaries and a few of Columbia’s finest families as well. Barnes knew strategic allies on the home front were as necessary as those overseas.

  Transformed from its daily duties as an assembly hall, the space sported bunting and flags, a serviceable army orchestra and as festive a selection of food and drink as could be had during wartime. Despite the affair being well underway—for it had taken a good deal of time to finish their journey here—most of the room turned to look at John and Leanne when they entered. John was clearly used to being at the center of attention. He seemed as at home in the spotlight as she was foreign to it.

  “They’re staring at you,” he whispered as they circled around the reception.

  “They’re staring at you,” she replied, wondering if the flush would ever leave her cheeks this evening. A waiter with a tray of punch cups appeared, and John selected one for her without taking one for himself. Of course, she realized, he needed one hand on his cane while the other leaned ever-so-slightly on her. She sipped it quietly as she watched John’s eyes scan the room for General Barnes.

  “He’s not here.”

  “No, he won’t appear for another half an hour or so. Probably holed up in some library with cigars and senators.” When she raised an eyebrow, he added, “The man never throws a party just to throw a party. I’ll know how many items he’s ticked off his agenda just by the way he stands.” When she finished her cup of punch, he offered, “Shall we mingle?”

  The mayor of Columbia greeted her warmly, remarking on how the addition of Camp Jackson had invigorated the state capital.

  “She’s heading up several classes for the Red Cross knitting campaign, too,” John offered, when the conversation turned to Leanne’s activities as a nurse. “I’m her newest student, you know.”

  “So I hear, young man, so I hear,” cooed the mayor’s wife. “Well, if anyone can get our boys onto yarn and needles, I suspect it’s you.” The woman turned to Leanne. “You know, our ladies’ guild might be able to supply you with more yarn, if that would help.”

  “It would indeed, thank you,” Leanne replied. By the time they’d circled the room, John had maneuvered assorted conversations to no less than six offers of help for the Red Cross classes. He seemed to be able to draw assistance from people with uncanny ease. “You’ve not asked a single person for their help,” she whispered with amusement, “and yet I find myself with half a dozen offers of much-needed assistance.”

  “I thought all good Charleston girls were taught the art of social commerce.”

  “Not in the way you employ it. I’m afraid I don’t go about it with quite so much…” As she searched for the words, John’s demeanor shifted dramatically. She did not need to see the general to know he had entered the room; John stared at him with an intensity that prickled her skin. Surely it was dangerous to place so much importance on one dance—she couldn’t help thinking tonight would end very badly. John was already leaning heavily on her arm just to walk around. It didn’t seem possible that his scheme could be achieved. Then again, hadn’t he just achieved more than she’d ever bargained for in a handful of “innocent” conversations?

  “He’ll work his way over to that side of the room,” John said, pointing to a series of windows that faced west. “We should do the same.”

  * * *

  This would work. He’d convince the general of his leg’s health without his even being aware of it. That’s why this was so brilliant—anything so obvious as a physical test or exam would heighten the commander’s awareness whereas this would sneak the idea in under his consciousness. Leanne had declared it “propaganda” in jest, but she wasn’t that far off. Of course she didn’t know he’d paid the band leader to ensure a slow waltz two numbers after General Barnes entered the room. When it arrived, John took a deep breath, laid his cane up against the chair railing and extended his hand as if this were the easiest thing in the world. She caught his eye with such an expression of encouragement that it felt as if ten pounds lifted off his frame.

  She was delightful to hold. To truly hold, the way he used to hold a dancing partner. Leanne was light and airy on her feet, yet keenly aware of where and when he needed to lean on her. The sessions they’d had with the bars told her just which steps were most difficult for him.

  One, two, three…it was the slight twist at the end of the third step that pained him, but not too badly at first.

  One, two, three…they circled within yards of the general. Out of the corner of his eye before turning, John caught Dr. Madison pointing him out to the Barnes. Never mind the scowl on that pessimist Dr. Madison’s face, he’d made it halfway around the room and he wasn’t even sweating yet.

  “Smile, my dear,” John said as he caught Leanne peering around his shoulder to check if the general was watching. “This isn’t supposed to be so serious. I’m charming, rememb—” A wrong twist sent a spark of pain through his hip and he almost missed a step. He’d aggravated something, for the pain stayed throughout the steps now instead of waxing and waning. No matter; he could endure it.

  “Are you all right?” She applied the smile he’d requested, but worry darkened her eyes.

  “Delightful.” He leaned on her a little harder as they made the difficult turn.

  “You most certainly are not. Shall we stop? I could feign a turned ankle.”

  “I told you not to do such things. I’m fine.” He cursed the traitorous rivulet of sweat he felt stealing down his temple. “Halfway around the room again so we pass in front of him.”

  “John, you’re in pain. Stop this before you hurt yourself.”

  “Just let me put my weight on you on that third step and we’ll be fine. And land sakes, try to look enthralled. I’m to be sweeping you off your feet, remember?”

  “It is getting you off your feet that I’m most concerned with at the moment.”

  John’s leg was on fire now, but he’d pass out before he’d pass up the chance to waltz past the general one more time. He tightened his grip on Leanne’s shoulder and stared into the welcome distraction of her eyes. “Stay with me. Just a few measures more.” He discovered he was gritting his teeth.

  “John…”

  The final measures of the waltz placed them right in front of the general, and John turned Leanne just enough to face her toward Barnes as they stood still at the song’s conclusion and applauded the orchestra. He leaned in to catch her ear above the noise. “What’s he doing?” he whispered, more breathless than he would have liked.

  “He’s talking to Dr. Madison.”

  “Laughing?”

  “It looks rather more like a frown, I’m sorry to say.”

  “And Madison?” He needed just a few seconds more before he could turn and face Barnes conv
incingly.

  “Scowling like a bear.”

  “Excellent. Now, I’ll turn to face him, and if you’d be so kind, duck over to the side of the room and fetch my cane. It’d be lovely if you could be rather insistent that I use it, for I plan to refuse a time or two.”

  Leanne narrowed her eyes. “Really? This has become an exercise in playacting.”

  “You’re my secret weapon, Leanne. Just a minute or two longer and then I shall be yours to command. I’ll knit baby booties if it comes to that.”

  “Honestly.” Her words were harsh, but the amusement hiding behind her glare did her no favors in making her seem stern. She turned in the direction of his cane, but not before he brought her hand to his lips and placed a lingering kiss there. She smelled of roses, and her eyes made the fire in his leg fade to embers.

  * * *

  A long hour later, Leanne raised an eyebrow as John turned to the car that had brought them back to the Red Cross House and barked at the driver not to wait. She said nothing as the car rumbled off down the street, just as John had said next to nothing as they’d driven home. She’d caught him looking at her a dozen times on the short trip, silent, a quizzical smile on his face.

  “Did things turn out the way you wanted?”

  “I’m not at all sure.”

  She didn’t know how to respond to that. “What were you expecting?”

  “I wasn’t expecting anything. The point was to hand him an impression without him realizing it.”

  “I thought you did marvelously. I have no doubt you were a superb dancer in your day.” She regretted the backhanded compliment the moment it left her lips. They’d never discussed his full prognosis, whether Dr. Madison expected him to regain full use of the leg. John certainly seemed to brook no doubts on the issue. “You are a superb dancer now.”

  The correction was useless. He looked at her, and for the first time she saw the doubts he tried so very hard to kill. “I needed your help.” He whispered it like a confession.

  “You were smart enough to ask for it. I was glad to give it.” She smiled at the memory of all the eyes upon her and John. “We were a very convincing pair, weren’t we?”