Jo looked up at her with big brown eyes. “I sure as hell hope so.”
Up top, Eva was almost thankful for the darkness. Probably better not to see the fury of the seas. The whole upper section of the ship had turned into a ghost town, and she strolled around to stretch out her legs. Surely she was not the only person immune to seasickness. At the edge of the main deck, frigid rain blasted in, so she turned around and explored the areas that she had missed earlier due to her late arrival.
She found several men playing cards in the smoking room. She poked her head in, but wasn’t fond of smoke and moved on. Down the hall, she came across an empty ballroom with polished wooden floors and a gilded ceiling. There was also a main lounge decorated with palm-print fabric, a library with wall-to-wall books, an elegant bar room, and a writing room complete with dainty tables and big leather chairs. The Lurline was a floating palace, but it felt eerie without many people to fill the space.
Every so often the ship would list or plunge and Eva had to reach out to steady herself. Perhaps she should have worn sandals instead of heels, but she had wanted to make a good first impression. In the dining room, there were only two tables with people—out of seven-hundred-odd passengers. One was full, seated with a mixture of men and women; the other was half-full of men only. All eyes were on her when she entered the room. Should she wave? Say something? Her cheeks burned. She would have turned around and left, but felt silly, so she kept on going, reading the table numbers along the way. She found hers halfway across the room. It would be an awkward dinner at best, dining alone.
“Miss,” one of the men called. “Why don’t you join us? We have plenty of seats.”
When she neared the table, she realized it was the captain himself who had invited her over. “It would be a lovely honor to sit with you, sir,” she said.
An older man stood and pulled out a chair. “Please,” he said.
“Thank you, this may not be my seating time, but since everyone else is under, I thought I would check.”
“This may be it for the night—count yourself among the fortunate few,” the man said.
Captain Brinck, two seats away, leaned over and winked. “Charles Darwin once said, if it weren’t for seasickness, the whole world would be sailors.”
She laughed. “This is my first time on the ocean, so I’m not sure why I’m spared.”
“Heredity—or luck,” said the man next to her. “I’m Dr. John Wallace, by the way.”
She tensed. Just her luck to have a doctor at the table, but his name was unfamiliar to her and she was certain she had never seen his face before.
“Eva...Cassidy. Pleased to meet you.” She caught herself just in time.
The other men introduced themselves. Two were army, Mr. Balder ran a sugarcane plantation, Tommy Woods worked in hotels, and the last, a man called Ogden, told her he was headed to Australia to find a wife as his eyes dropped down to her chest. She made a mental note to stay away from that one.
Eva was impressed at how well the dishes stayed in place despite the motion. “Isn’t it risky to have the glassware out?”
“It’s heavier than the usual stuff, but there is always the chance in seas like these,” Captain Brinck said.
“When will it calm?” she asked.
“In another day or two, it should improve. November tends to be this way. When we near Hawaii, it’ll be much warmer, but the seas can still be huge.”
“Well, my poor roommate looks half-dead. I worry about her,” she said.
He shrugged. “I sure wish I had a say in the weather.”
In the center of the table, plates were heaped with lobster tails, steak, French-fried potatoes, glazed carrots and peas. There were also various food items she couldn’t identify. Back at home, they stuck to simple. It was all they could afford.
The men continued their conversations about the war in Europe and the recent sinking of a British battleship by a U-boat. One of her nurse friends had recently left for England and had been terrified to bits of crossing the Atlantic.
A deep voice behind her said, “My table is empty over there. Mind if I join you?”
She spun to see the navy man she’d seen on the gangplank. Up close, and from this vantage point, he looked seven feet tall.
“Please,” everyone said.
The man seemed to be deciding between the two empty seats at the table. Eva was sure he was going to choose the one away from her, which was fine, because she wanted to learn more about Dr. Wallace, but he sat next to her. He was still in uniform and smelled faintly of Old Spice.
“Lieutenant Clark Spencer,” he said to the group, and then to her, “Impressive to see a lady out and about in these seas.”
“Dr. Wallace here blames it on luck,” she said.
His stony face softened. “If that’s the case, I hope some of it rubs off on me, on all of us, Miss...”
“Cassidy. Eva.” She was getting better at the name thing.
He looked vaguely familiar, and for a moment she wondered if they had met before. But there was nothing vague about him. Intensity lifted off him in waves. With wavy brown hair and a dark five o’clock shadow, the lieutenant had the build of a football player with a baritone voice. She suddenly felt self-conscious, which was ridiculous because she had a man waiting in Honolulu.
The plantation manager spoke up. “You stationed at Pearl?”
“More or less,” the lieutenant said.
“What’s the latest with the Japs?”
Eva had never seen an actual Japanese person, but she’d heard that Hawaii was full of them. She also knew that Jap was not a friendly term, especially now with tense relations and whispers of war. In fact, her state representative back home had gone as far as suggesting that ten thousand Japanese in Hawaii be held hostage to make sure Japan didn’t do anything rash. It seemed extreme and rather un-American, but what did she know?
“I’m not at liberty to say much, other than what you hear in the press. And if you’ve been keeping track of that, you know negotiations are questionable with Tokyo.”
The captain lowered his voice. “Just between us, those submarines of theirs make me nervous. I heard they got a bunch from the Germans.”
Eva sat up. “Submarines where?”
“In the ocean,” Ogden said with a smug look on his face.
She shot him a glance. “No doubt, but where in the ocean?”
One of the army men said, “Rest assured the Japanese would never bother with Hawaii or the US mainland. They know they’d be crushed.”
Being tucked away in Michigan, all war talk had seemed so remote. About distant lands and faraway oceans, involving nameless people who had no bearing on her own life. Here, she felt like she was in the front row, listening to people who knew what was happening from experience. It both frightened and exhilarated her.
Eva looked to Lieutenant Spencer for reassurance. “Is that true?”
He stiffened. “The Japanese are proud and complicated people,” was all he said.
“And?”
“And no comment.”
She felt shortchanged. But he seemed like the kind of man who couldn’t be budged once he’d made up his mind. Like her father’s mule, who had an uncanny ability to turn into a statue when he wasn’t in the mood to work. But the result was that Eva wanted to know even more.
Lieutenant Spencer turned his attention to his plate. So much food she had never seen in her life, and after a week on the train with little physical activity, her body felt sluggish. Not only that, but the past two months of nerves and worry had whittled her away to half her normal size, so much so that Mr. Lingle at the drugstore hadn’t even recognized her the last time she’d gone in. Her appetite hadn’t returned, but she piled her plate with carrots and peas and rice anyway. Might as well taste what was supposedly a diet staple in Hawaii. The men con
tinued debating what the Japanese had up their sleeves, which was strange because all along, she’d been far more concerned about the Germans. You could tell just by looking at pictures of Adolph Hitler that the man was evil.
“So, Dr. Wallace, what takes you to Hawaii?” she asked.
“I’ll be giving a course on traumatic surgery at Queen’s Hospital.”
“Sounds fascinating.”
He chuckled. “Not the reaction I get from most women. A brutal but necessary field.”
Eva hesitated opening herself up for questioning, but figured she might as well practice. “I’m a nurse, and my father was a doctor, so I have reason to be interested.”
Wallace cocked his head to the side and looked down his beak-like nose at her very seriously. She braced herself, and was surprised when he said, “My best anesthetist in France was a woman. Agnes Brodie. God knows we need more women in the field.”
“Why, thank you, sir. I wish everyone felt that way.”
He swirled the ice in his glass. “Sharp as my best scalpel, she was. And able to keep her wits with bombs whistling and exploding around us. I just pray your skills won’t be needed for anything other than peacetime affairs.”
“I’ve committed to a year at Tripler, so we’ll see what happens after that.”
Ogden cleared his throat and piped up. “I’d still take a man over a woman doc any day. Women are meant to wear dresses, not pants.”
Eva was well versed in doctors with this same sentiment, and it still drove her crazy. She had the molten urge to stick her finger in his chest and tell him to kindly find the gangplank, but she knew better than to engage. Instead, she asked, “And what is your profession, Mr. Ogden?”
“Businessman, ma’am.”
“What sort of business?”
The table had grown quiet around them.
“A little of this and a little of that. And, anyway, what I do is not relevant to this conversation. We were talking about medicine.”
Lieutenant Spencer was suddenly paying attention. “Is this a big convention of docs in Hawaii?” he asked Wallace.
Eva was relieved for the distraction and turned her attention to the doctor.
“From all over. Civilian and military. The US is gearing up for something big out there in the Pacific, you can be sure of that, but where and when, who knows,” Wallace said.
She was going to have to get herself invited to the lecture, though with hundreds of doctors, there was a chance she would run into someone who recognized her.
Lieutenant Spencer lowered his voice. “It may happen sooner than later, keep that in mind.”
“Say, what exactly is your role in the navy, Lieutenant?” she asked, unsettled by his words.
“Communications,” he said curtly.
Wallace raised an eyebrow.
“What sort of communications?” Eva said.
Lieutenant Spencer paused a beat too long and Wallace answered for him. “The kind we don’t talk about, I’m guessing.”
The man seemed more reserved than the other servicemen at the table, as though cut from a different cloth. The way his hair was slightly longer, his suit less stiff. Eva was new to the army, having signed on less than a month ago. For someone not accustomed to the military, all the ranks and unique lingo baffled her. She was still trying to figure out the difference between a lieutenant and a sergeant and a captain. As a nurse, she was considered a second lieutenant. Lieutenant Cassidy. That would take some getting used to.
“I’m a linguist. We’ll leave it at that,” Lieutenant Spencer said.
“You speak German?” she asked.
“Japanese.”
“How does a fella like you end up speaking Japanese?” she wanted to know.
Suddenly, the bow of the ship climbed, and Eva’s chair felt like it might tilt over backward. Lieutenant Spencer’s arm shot out behind her, his hand twice the size of her scapula. A small surge of nausea threatened but she willed her stomach to behave. Unattended glasses rolled around and several crashed to the ground. A moment later, it felt like the bottom of the ocean had pulled away from under them and the enormous ship plunged. She checked Captain Brinck’s face for signs of concern; it was pinched into a grimace, but she couldn’t be sure if it was for the plate of lobster in danger of sliding off the table, or for the Lurline herself.
A moment later, he wiped his chin with a napkin and excused himself. “No cause for concern. I’ve seen worse, but I should probably get going back to the bridge.”
Wallace turned to her. “At least we don’t have icebergs to worry about out here.”
“You can steer around an iceberg. I’m not sure about a hurricane,” she said, feeling slightly panicky.
On the train ride to San Francisco, as they traversed the country, the Pacific Ocean had been big on her mind, and putting as much distance between her and Michigan as possible. She had pictured herself lounging on a deck chair, soaking in the warmth and admiring the blue waters and sunshine. Bellboys would be delivering pineapple juice when the sun grew too hot. Whales would be spouting. All of it would help erase the nightmare of the past months. And maybe along the way, her appetite would return.
Another rise and fall, and the plates all slid a few inches one way and then another. This had not been in her plans.
Her stomach swirled and she decided to call it a night. “I think I’ll head to my room now. Good night, gentlemen.” She nodded to Wallace and smiled at Lieutenant Spencer, who saluted her.
“Ma’am,” he said.
She moved away unsteadily, hoping to God she could sleep in these conditions. But what did it matter if the ship ended up going down.
MOSCOW MULES
On the way out the door, it felt as though Eva was walking downhill, then by the time she passed the ballroom, uphill. If only she could go out on deck and watch the horizon to help gain her bearings. Sleeping in these conditions would be a challenge. Sleep in general was a challenge. And then there was Jo and her wretched state. Perhaps Eva should find some soda to bring back to their cabin. Instead of passing by the bar, she stepped inside.
The dark paneled room was empty but for two men tucked away in a leathery booth. A wall full of bottles looked like an accident waiting to happen. On closer inspection, she saw a small wire strapping them in place. She approached and sat down, hoping the bartender would appear soon. Sitting at a fancy bar by herself was not her usual custom and she felt very out of her league. She waited a few more minutes and was about to leave when the bartender returned with a crate full of limes.
He set a floral coaster on the polished wood in front of her. “What can I get you, ma’am?”
She was about to ask for a can of soda water when someone interrupted. “How about a Moscow mule, and one for me, too,” a deep voice next to her said.
Eva nearly choked when she saw who it was and gave thanks for the dim lighting, or Lieutenant Spencer might have seen the blush spreading across her cheeks.
“A Moscow mule?” she said. Where did people come up with these names?
“Something to settle the stomach, with a little kick.” He grinned like he knew a secret and if she were lucky, he just might share it with her.
“Mind if I join you?” he asked somewhat tentatively.
Under normal circumstances, having a drink alone with a naval officer might be seen as improper, but these were not normal circumstances. Life had been flipped on its side, and she no longer knew where home was. Still, she almost declined. But his smile was so earnest and real, with a one-sided dimple that she couldn’t refuse. Plus, the bartender was already pouring and mixing.
“I get the feeling you won’t take no for an answer,” she said.
He laughed. When sitting down, he put enough space between them that another person might have been able to squeeze in. She suddenly noticed he wore a wedding ba
nd, and yet something about him had given her the impression he wasn’t married. Maybe it was how she had caught him watching her throughout dinner, or the swagger in his walk that said, Hey, look at me. But it worked out perfectly that he was married; that way things wouldn’t get awkward between them.
Why was she even paying attention to these details? Habit, she told herself. Being twenty-four and unwed sometimes made her feel like an old crone, and she was a keen observer of other folks around her and their status. Billy wanted to marry; he had made that much clear. But with the recent turn of events and her sudden enlistment in the army, marriage was the farthest thing from her mind. Nor were army nurses allowed to marry. So that solved that for the time being.
“So why were you back in America, Lieutenant?” she said.
“Call me Clark, ma’am.”
Despite his easy smile, he was fiddling with his napkin.
“If you don’t call me ma’am, I won’t call you lieutenant, how’s that?”
He nodded. “Deal. Eva. And I was on a brief work trip. Nothing too exciting.”
“Eva” came out with a light Southern twang.
“Where are you originally from, Clark?” she asked.
“How about you tell me? Can’t you guess from my accent?”
She felt like she was being tested. “Give me a few minutes, then, and I will.”
He reminded Eva of her father, who was always requiring her to answer her own questions and solve her own problems. Questions can more often than not be answered by the mind asking them, he liked to say. In his opinion, much of the world’s failures were due to people not paying attention and to simple lack of imagination.
The bartender set down two copper mugs with lime slices on the sides. The pungent smell of ginger wafted up. It made perfect sense to use it for seasickness. Anytime she and her father visited patients with stomach ailments, ginger ale and soda crackers were their initial treatment.
Clark raised his mug. “To fair winds and following seas...and new acquaintances.”
“To all that, cheers,” she said, clinking her mug with his.
The Lieutenant's Nurse Page 2
