Golden State Brides

by Keli Gwyn

  Wizened, atrophied, and shrunken, his left leg bore more resemblance to the leg of a ninety-year-old than a man in the prime of life. The foot, especially, drew attention—smaller, with an odd buckle in the middle. Infantile paralysis—polio—was a cruel disease.

  Caleb stared hard at the wall over Doc’s shoulder, gripping the edges of the exam table as if he feared it would throw him off at any second.

  Gently, Doc took the withered foot into his hands. Cool flesh. To be expected. Polio-afflicted limbs were often cool to the touch. He wrapped his fingers around Caleb’s healthy right foot. Warm, almost hot.

  “I need you to be honest with me if I’m going to treat you effectively. How is the pain?”

  Caleb shrugged again, but Doc waited for a real answer.

  “It bothers me now and again. I can tell when I’ve done too much.”

  “Which is pretty much every day? How about when you’re resting?”

  “Some cramps, especially at night.” He lifted his foot out of Doc’s hand. “I know what you’re going to say, but forget it.”

  “I’m going to say it anyway. If you’d wear the brace, it would help. You need the support along the back of your leg and your heel.”

  “I’m not walking around like a freak. People take one look at leg braces and assume you have the intelligence of a turnip. Their eyes slide over you, and they start doling out the pity, or the contempt.” Caleb muttered the words, his shoulders hunched, arms straight, palms jammed into the tabletop. “I just need a new pair of boots.”

  Doc sighed. “You’re a stubborn man.”

  “I prefer to think of it as strong-minded.”

  “I bet you do.” He chuckled. “We can’t just send the measurements from the last pair. Your leg has changed some. That’s why this pair of boots doesn’t fit as well. I’ll need to make a new mold. Wait here while I mix up the plaster.”

  Returning to the exam room with a tray of supplies, Doc noted that Caleb had replaced his right sock and boot.

  Using cotton strips dipped in a tray of wet plaster of Paris mixture, he wrapped the limb in several layers. “Is it too warm?”

  Caleb shook his head. “How long will it take?”

  “Don’t you remember last time? It will take about forty-five minutes to set up hard enough so I can cut it off.”

  “I meant how long until the new boots come?”

  “A month, give or take. It’s not like walking into Claypool’s and plucking shoes off a shelf.”

  “I suppose.”

  He wrapped the last white strip, smoothing it with his fingertips. “There. Now we wait a bit. You want some coffee? Oh wait, I forgot. You don’t like coffee. Water?”

  “I’m fine. Just came from the hotel.”

  “That’s unusual. One of those Harvey Girls catch your eye? Maybe that redhead you rescued?”

  His eyes widened, and a dull flush rose from his collar. “You heard about that?”

  “You forget, Needles is a small, isolated community, and I am one of its oldest and most-respected residents. I hear things. So, you didn’t answer my question. Are you sparking one of the waitresses? As a rule you steer clear of the El Garces.”

  “Which is a rule I should’ve remembered before I had lunch there. Lotsa soldier boys down there today.” Though he kept his tone offhand, Doc knew it had to bother him.

  When Caleb had first come to town, Doc had signed his draft notice certifying him as 4F, physically unfit for military duty. As the only person who knew about Caleb’s malady, the two had formed a bond that extended beyond doctor and patient or casual friend. Caleb trusted Doc never to reveal his deepest secret, though often Doc had longed to do just that, to fight back against the prejudice and wrong judgments hurled at Caleb by some of the folks in this town by telling them the truth. Mrs. Gregory had taken a particular dislike to Caleb, putting out the word around town that Caleb was too cowardly to fight in the war, but not above profiting off it at the same time by breaking horses for the cavalry. Doc ached to set her and the rest of the town straight.

  But Caleb would hate him for that. He’d rather suffer in silence and protect his pride than reveal the truth about his leg.

  “Do you know the Hualga family?” Caleb changed the subject.

  Doc went to the sink in the corner to wash his hands. “I do some work over on the reservation from time to time, so I’ve met the family. Why?”

  “The oldest boy, Joshua, is working for me now.”

  “I don’t know him too well. He’s been away at school for the past several years. He’s working with the horses? He didn’t strike me as the horseman type.” He began tidying up his equipment.

  “From what I can tell, he’d rather be reading books than cleaning up after horses. But I think he’d rather work for me than stay home. He doesn’t get along with his pa.” Caleb rubbed the back of his neck. “I know what that’s like.”

  Doc quit fussing with his instruments and sat down. Befriending and doctoring Caleb called for perception and patience. He revealed things about himself only slowly. Admitting he hadn’t gotten along with his father was a big step of trust.

  “Fathers and sons don’t always see eye-to-eye.”

  A rueful smile brushed the corner of Caleb’s mouth. “My father couldn’t stand the notion of having a crippled son.” He went silent for a moment. A shudder went through him, and his eyes took on a faraway, painful look. “I was only five when the polio hit. Living in Vermont. A whole slew of kids went down with it. Worst pain I’ve ever felt.” He jerked his thumb at his casted foot. “What’s going on in there now isn’t a shade to waking up in knots, feeling like your muscles were being ripped off your bones, but not able to move. My brain screamed at my leg to run away from all that pain, but it was like my leg couldn’t hear it. Even now, the communication isn’t too good, though it’s better than it was.”

  He took a deep breath, his brows lowering, still introspective. “My folks sent me to a hospital for polio kids somewhere near Albany, New York. I was there for two years. They came to see me once in all that two years, and my pa barely looked at me. When the hospital had done all they could for me, they shipped me home. My pa took one look at my leg brace and crippled foot and never spoke another word to me. Within a week I was in another hospital, this one for freaks and crazy people. People nobody wanted. My ma used to come and visit a couple times a year, but never my pa. He was too ashamed of me.”

  That explained so much. No wonder he refused to wear a brace or tell anyone about his leg.

  He seemed to have realized how much of himself he’d revealed, and the shutters closed. His face molded into the familiar mask of remoteness he used on the citizens of Needles, and he crossed his arms, leaning his back against the wall.

  “How about we play some checkers while that finishes setting up?” Doc rose. “I think last time you beat me. Time for some revenge.”

  As he headed to the office to get the game board and pieces, Doc filed away what he’d learned. As surely as Caleb wore a plaster cast on his leg, he also wore a cast on his battered heart. What would it take to peel back and chip away that brittle covering and get to the man, the emotions, and the heart underneath?

  Chapter 4

  Meghan pulled off her shoes and stockings, hiked her skirts to her knees, and dipped her toes into the soothing basin of cool water. “Fourteen hours.”

  “What?” Natalie’s muffled voice came from the pillows. She’d come in, removed her uniform, and sprawled face-down on the coverlet in her shift.

  “That’s how long it’s been since I sat down. The alarm went off at five. It is now seven o’clock in the evening. I’ve poured a million cups of coffee, my face hurts from smiling, and my feet have gone on strike.” She put on her best “Mrs. Gregory” tone. “ ‘A Harvey Girl must never be seen sitting down while in uniform.’ We were so rushed with that special train, I even ate my lunch standing up in the kitchen.”

  Natalie rolled over with a groan. Her hair
straggled from its pins where she’d dragged her lace headband off. “I had no idea being a Harvey Girl would be so much work. You’d think after two weeks working seven days a week, I’d have gotten used to it by now. I can’t even move.”

  Glancing at the clock on the dresser, Meghan scowled and wiggled her toes. “Move is just what we’ll have to do if we’re going to make it to the Red Cross meeting.”

  Another groan. “I forgot about the meeting. Go without me.”

  “Oh no, I’m not facing Mrs. Gregory all by myself. You know she doesn’t like me. After all her picking and poking this last fortnight, I’m beginning to wonder if all of the apostles and prophets rolled together could please her. I doubt even a biblical saint could live up to her exacting standards. What’s a poor Irish-Norwegian lass like myself supposed to do?” Meghan lifted one foot and rotated her ankle as all the commands, orders, corrections, and opinions she’d received from Mrs. Gregory washed through her memory.

  Her vow to be the best Harvey Girl the company had ever seen had taken a beating over the past two weeks. At the moment she was tempted to settle for just being good enough to be ignored by the head waitress.

  Hold on there, girl. When did you surrender your courage? You’re no coward, ready to duck and run for cover. You’re a Celtic-Viking lass, and you’ll fight to the bitter end.

  She straightened her stiff shoulders. “I’ll tell you what I’m going to do. I’m going to go to that meeting tonight and dazzle the picky head waitress. I’m going to show the dragon-lady that I’m the best little Red Cross worker and pledge-gatherer she’s ever seen, and then perhaps the dragon-lady will come to appreciate my talents and abilities and might even deign to speak nicely to me every so often. I ain’t licked yet.”

  The bedsprings creaked as Natalie pushed herself upright and braced herself on her palms. “You say that every day. That you’re going to be the best Harvey Girl the company has ever seen. But if tonight goes like the past fortnight, you’ll get down to the meeting, Mrs. Gregory will say something you object to, and you’ll spout off something that will get you further into trouble.”

  Meghan giggled, shrugging and wrinkling her nose. “How is it that you know me so well, when we’ve only been friends for less than a month?”

  A head-splitting yawn preempted any immediate attempt at speech. Natalie flopped back onto the bed. “It must be my astute powers of observation. That, or you really stink at hiding your emotions. Promise me you won’t ever try to hustle a game of poker, all right? You’d be fleeced like a sheep in a heartbeat.”

  Promptly at eight o’clock, dressed in an ivory muslin gown she hoped wouldn’t be too warm and with exhaustion still pulling at her limbs, Meghan followed Natalie into the large, screened veranda at the end of the hotel’s first floor. Ceiling fans circulated the air, but even at 8 p.m. the mid-May heat of the day lingered. Tables had been pushed to the sides of the room and rows of chairs stood in their place. Most of the Harvey Girls were already there. Several women clustered in small groups, as well as a handful of men in shirtsleeves.

  Mrs. Gregory stood with a pair of older ladies at the head of the table. All three wore Red Cross armbands and nearly identical expressions of officialdom.

  Natalie made for the closest empty chair and subsided into it as if her bones had turned to jelly. Meghan dropped down beside her, her feet throbbing from being thrust back into her shoes. She leaned over to whisper. “I sure hope this doesn’t go on very long. I’m liable to put my head right on the table and go to sleep.”

  “I won’t be able to wake you, because I’ll be passed out right beside you,” Natalie whispered back. Though she smiled, dark circles hovered under her eyes, and her skin looked thin and translucent. She looked every bit as tired as Meghan felt. Maybe even more. As the days had gone by, she had become more dear to Meghan, but she’d also grown more remote, more self-contained. When Meghan asked her about it, she shrugged and said it was nothing. Maybe she was just a touch homesick, but it was nothing to worry about, she was working through it.

  Meghan squeezed Natalie’s elbow and tried to coax a smile. “I’m sure it will get better. We’ll get used to the work and the heat, and we won’t be so tired.”

  “I hope so.” She fingered her necklace, a gold chain she wore beneath her uniform during the day since Harvey Girls were forbidden from wearing jewelry at work.

  Meghan scanned the room, seeing familiar faces. Things had been so busy she’d had to make friends on the fly. Hopefully, she’d be able to deepen some of those friendships over the coming months, but for now, she was glad she had Natalie. This place would be intolerable without her new best friend.

  Mrs. Gregory called the meeting to order. “Ladies and gentlemen, thank you all for coming.”

  “Like we had a choice.” Meghan rubbed her hands on her lips and spoke sotto voce.

  “Behave yourself,” Natalie murmured, stifling a yawn.

  “Tonight we’re launching a new campaign to raise funds and gather materials to help the war effort. While we appreciate all this community has done to help up to now, the needs of our soldiers are fast outgrowing the efforts we’ve made in the past. We’ve got to do more.” A fervent light gleamed in her eyes.

  “I cannot impress upon you strongly enough how important our efforts are. Every pound of scrap metal, every bushel basket of peach pits, every truckload of rubber ensures the safety and well-being of our soldiers and brings the end of this terrible war closer.”

  She held up a poster of a Red Cross worker cradling a battle-torn soldier in her arms. Emblazoned across the top were the words If I Fail, He Dies. The Red Cross nurse on the battlefield held one arm out, imploring a Red Cross volunteer sitting at a desk for help. A ripple went through the crowd, shoulders straightening, backs stiffening, resolve almost audible.

  Meghan blinked and stared at the poster, all levity gone. The boy in that picture was a perfect rendition of her brother. The face, the coloring, the build, everything. He could’ve posed for that painting. Her throat closed, and her mind raced.

  “What is it?” Natalie nudged her. “You’re not sleeping with your eyes open, are you?”

  Meghan shook her head, unable to look anywhere but at that soldier. The combination of serving all those fresh-faced, brave young men in the lunchroom and seeing the perfect image of her brother on that poster…

  “It is with great pleasure and honor that I introduce our speaker this evening. Mr. Leonard Gibson, a Red Cross volunteer who has seen firsthand the atrocities the Kaiser has committed, and an impassioned speaker who is currently crossing this country speaking at Red Cross events to raise awareness of the needs of our boys over there. Organizing volunteers and calling upon citizens to rise up and do something for the cause.” Her eyes glowed, and color suffused her cheeks.

  Meghan had to admire her fervor, and she couldn’t help but be drawn in as the room burst into applause. Bowing slightly, Mrs. Gregory turned the podium over to a balding man with a florid, jowly face. Mr. Gibson bounced on his toes, gripped the edges of the stand, and launched into his speech.

  “I have come to bring you news from the front. I have come to carry messages of great need and suffering from our brave soldiers. And with your help, I will return to the battlefield with evidence of your love and support, with supplies and hope and all your prayers and best wishes for our boys.

  “The war goes hard for us. The need is great. We need ambulances, medical supplies, food, clothing. And most of all we need funds. Funds to buy these things here and ship them to Europe, funds to purchase supplies there, funds to get our Red Cross nurses and doctors and volunteers to where they are most needed.”

  The entire room seemed to hold its breath, and Meghan found herself leaning forward, her hands clutched in her lap. She saw herself wearing the white armband emblazoned with the red cross, standing shoulder to shoulder with her fellow Americans, a vast army of volunteers contributing to the war effort, contributing to saving the lives of the v
aliant young men who sacrificed family, home, and even their very lives in order to preserve freedom, not only for America but for the Allied countries. If serving soldiers in the lunchroom could be a worthy calling to help the cause, how much more would additional volunteering and service be?

  The speaker drew vivid pictures of the courageous men battling pitiful conditions. He told of how the Red Cross was in the best position to help those in need, but not without the help of volunteers. Meghan lived every word, stirred up inside and ready to answer the call. The longer Mr. Gibson talked, the more impassioned he became, drawing his listeners along with him until electricity fairly crackled in the air around them.

  “I ask, nay, I demand! I demand that the citizens of Needles rise up and come to our aid. Anyone who would do less than his or her best, would sacrifice less than these brave men, is a coward to be shunned and shamed. Won’t you join us in the fight? Won’t you stand with us against the evil forces of the Kaiser? Or will you be one to turn a blind eye, to ignore our pleas, to leave our brave young men to face the enemy alone?”

  He smacked the pulpit with all the fervor of a revival preacher, his face glowing with sweat and emotion.

  Every last person in the room surged to their feet, cheering and clapping. Some women wiped tears, and Meghan’s heart threatened to burst out of her chest. Even Natalie seemed to have regained some of her vigor, for her eyes shone, and she dabbed her eyes with a lacy hanky.

  Mrs. Gregory stepped up to the podium, shaking Mr. Gibson’s hand. They stood there together a full minute as the applause continued. Finally, she made damping motions, encouraging everyone to take their seats.

  “Thank you, Mr. Gibson, for that rousing account. I am sure you will find the citizens of Needles and the employees of The Harvey Company to be most patriotic. By the time you return, we will have proven this through our efforts. Now, before we conclude our meeting tonight, I want to take this time to assign each of you who is willing—and who wouldn’t be willing after such a stirring call to arms?—to a particular task. I have several here that I’ve come up with, and Mr. Gibson will be available to talk with you if you would like to hear more ways we can help. For now, I will list a few.” She consulted a piece of paper.