The Lieutenant's Nurse

by Sara Ackerman

  Slipping on the green dress, the one she had saved for the final night’s dinner and dance, now seemed anticlimactic. What was the point of dancing, either? Touching strangers and jumping around like a jittery bug. She wished she could snap out of her mood.

  It’s the last night. You have to at least show up.

  Eva smoothed her hair with a rose-scented pomade and twisted it into a bun, pinning it in place with rusted bobby pins. When she leaned close to inspect her wound, which was closing up nicely, she noticed more freckles on her cheeks showing. She’d hardly been out in the sun because of her face, but the strength of it was tenfold that of Michigan’s. At least it sure felt that way, scorching her shoulders through her blouse and plastering her hair onto her neck. No wonder people called it the endless summer.

  Jo had decided to try sitting up, and when Eva stepped out of the bathroom, her eyes grew wide and she whistled. “Look at you, all done up and shimmery. Meeting up with Lieutenant Spencer, are you?”

  “No,” Eva said a little too forcefully.

  “Now, now. I was simply asking. You’d have to be a fool not to notice how he looks at you. So why aren’t you?”

  “Because I have other plans.”

  Jo sighed. “No man has ever looked at me like that.”

  Eva didn’t want to talk about Clark. “Even if he did, we dock tomorrow and I’ll probably never see him again. So I’m going to sit with Dr. Wallace and discuss medicine.”

  The dining hall was half as full as it had been the previous nights, with plenty of empty tables. Only one older couple decked out in Hawaiian-print outfits sat at her assigned table, so she scanned the room looking for Dr. Wallace.

  She spotted him at a table with Bree and Sasha and the two soldiers from dinner that first night. By chance, the seat to the right of Wallace was open, so she walked over. Sasha waved madly and motioned for her to sit.

  “Not bad, if I do say so myself,” said Wallace when he saw her cheek.

  “Your experience shows,” Eva said.

  “I always take more care on the face, especially with women. Most men don’t give a damn about scars. They just want to be reassembled. But women, they’ll take you to court if so much as a line shows,” he said with a hint of a smile.

  Bree butted in. “You look stunning, Eva.”

  “Those eyes! Why, they look positively glowing with that dress on,” Sasha said.

  Eva felt a blush coming on. “I figured I ought to wear it at least one night, since I’ll be working straightaway once we land.”

  “Tripler, correct?” Wallace asked.

  “Yes.”

  “And where did you say you worked back home?”

  She hadn’t said. “Here and there. A small hospital in Indiana.” The lie came out stilted and heat rose on the back of her neck.

  “I recently gave a series of lectures at Greenwood Hospital. Is this where you were?” Wallace said.

  Her heart rate shot up. Stick with the lie or improvise? “A great place from what I hear. I was farther south, though.”

  Please don’t ask where. Please, please, please.

  He stared at her for a moment with hawk-like intensity. “You look familiar. You’re not originally from Indiana, are you? You sound more north,” he said.

  Several photographs of Eva had been plastered across local and regional newspapers, which a visiting doctor might pay close attention to, even if he practiced in another state. Everyone loved a sensational story, as long as they weren’t at the heart of it.

  “Michigan.”

  “A wolverine, are you?” he said.

  She forced a smile. “How about you, Doctor? I’d like to hear more about your lectures this weekend.”

  Wallace seemed happy to oblige. “I’m giving talks Thursday, Friday and Sunday. Treatments of wounds—both civilian and military—back injuries and burns. I know it sounds dismal, but war creates specific types of injuries, and the more we can be ready the better. When I went off to France I was woefully unprepared. Out in the trenches we figured out for ourselves how to dig shrapnel out of a body or not to suture wounds but to pack with gauze to stave off infection.”

  “Do you believe we’ll go to war?” Eva asked him.

  “With most of the world at each other’s throats, we would be hard-pressed not to in the coming months. Especially with Hitler in Leningrad and Kiev now.”

  “Would you go back to Europe?” she asked.

  He took a sip of wine and swirled his glass. “No question. Those young lads on the front lines were some of the most admirable people I’ve seen. Taking it so that others can be free. They deserve all we can give them.”

  “Is the lecture for doctors only, or can nurses attend?” Eva asked.

  “For doctors. It would be way over your head.”

  She winced. “But suppose a nurse wanted to listen in and pick up what she could? Would it hurt anything?”

  “It all sounds so gruesome,” Bree, who had apparently been listening in, said.

  Wallace fixed his gaze on Bree. “Life and death can be gruesome... Humans can be gruesome.” Then to Eva, “I imagine there should be room enough, so if you feel the need to attend, by all means come. Just don’t be surprised if you get a few looks,” Wallace said.

  She was used to looks.

  Eva picked up the menu and studied tonight’s dinner options, but it was hard to focus on reading the menu, when all she could think about was Clark. She had imagined he would at least show up for dinner, but he was nowhere to be seen. While Bree and Sasha flirted with the soldiers, Eva sipped a Shirley Temple and watched the door. Guests were dressed to the nines. Suits and sequined gowns. High heels. Fancy hats. Cigar smoke.

  “Waiting for someone?” Bree asked.

  Was she that obvious?

  “Jo said she may come up,” Eva said.

  “Mmm-hmm.”

  Beads of sweat formed along her spine. All this stuffy air and lying were making her light-headed. “You know, I should go check on her,” Eva said, pushing back her chair and rushing out of the room.

  Instead of going below, she made her way up top. Salt air and one billion stars would be a cure for most any ailment. How many stars were out there? Did anyone really know?

  At the railing, she looked for the North Star but felt disoriented under such a huge expanse of sky. She spun around and held up her fingers to try to count degrees. That was when she saw the lone figure sitting at a table. His was back to her. She tiptoed closer. The broad shoulders, uniform, faint smell of Old Spice. He took a drink of something, ice clinking in the glass. She had half a mind to back away and leave him in peace. Instead, she froze, memorizing the curve of his neck and the way he sat, like a football player on the bench.

  “There’s an extra seat here if you feel like joining me,” he suddenly said, turning to look at her.

  His table was just beyond a pool of light.

  “How did you know it was me?” she asked.

  “Your rose lotion gave you away. If you want to sneak up on someone, never wear perfume or lotion. That’s your tip for the night,” he said.

  “Hang on, I wasn’t trying to sneak up on you. I just noticed your silhouette there and was trying to get close enough to see who it was,” she protested.

  A smile crossed his face. “I was hoping you’d come,” he said with a tenderness that softened the backs of her knees and swelled her chest.

  Staying would only invite trouble, but Clark didn’t wait for a response. Instead, he stood and pulled out the chair for her. “Sit. I could use the company.”

  She obeyed. What else could she do? Such a perfect setting could not have been manufactured. The air temperature was that of early summer in Michigan—halfway between warm and cool—not another soul in sight, and the buzz of steel guitars wafting up from below. Here she was, plopped in
the middle of the Pacific Ocean counting stars as though she had not a care in the world.

  It felt like someone else’s life.

  “Did you notice the phosphorescence?” he asked.

  “Where?”

  He pointed. “In our wake.”

  A luminous ribbon of glowing blue water trailed out a mile behind the ship, like a pathway to Neverland. “I was too busy looking at the stars, I can’t believe I missed it.”

  “It’s like the ocean’s version of starlight,” he said.

  “What causes it?”

  “They’re tiny plankton that send off light when disturbed. The glow happens in ship wakes, or when waves break against cliffs, stuff like that.”

  “But we didn’t have a trail like this on the past nights. Why now?”

  He shrugged. “Probably to do with the tides and water temperature.”

  “Well, if there are any Japanese submarines out there, they sure won’t have any trouble spotting us now. It’s like a big neon sign that says ‘Here we are!’”

  There she went, worrying about submarines again. But being on a ship in the ocean, even though it was a grand ship, made her feel like a giant target. No solid ground, no place to hide. Only miles and miles of water and sky.

  “We aren’t at war with Japan...yet,” he said, swigging the last of whatever was in the glass and staring off into the night.

  They sat quiet for a time.

  “You know something, don’t you?” she said, finally breaking the silence.

  Just then, the music grew louder. Jimmy Dorsey was cooing “Green Eyes,” one of her favorite songs. Without a word, Clark took her hand and pulled her up. He moved her like she weighed nothing. One hand went to her low back, wrapped partway around her hip; the other, warm and calloused, gripped her hand. An electric current skimmed along her limbs.

  “I couldn’t leave without a dance,” he said softly into her hair.

  She leaned against his collarbone and could hear the thump of his heart. This was not meant to be happening. But the sweetness of the moment was too lovely to stop. As much as Clark was impossible, he was also inevitable.

  He was a good dancer, too, leading confidently and right on time with the music. It seemed as if good old Jimmy was singing the song just for the two of them. Everywhere Clark touched her, her skin burned.

  When he pulled away and looked down at her, a sheer smile brushed his lips. Their eyes fixed on each other and a shiver of longing ran to the base of her spine. He smoothed back a wisp of hair on the side of her cheek. Go ahead, kiss me, her body screamed. At that moment, she would have given up everything to feel his mouth on hers. It had already happened in her mind so many times. His salty lips, warm hands. But Clark seemed to be unsure. The song ended and a lively jitterbug started up, immediately breaking the spell and causing a moment of extreme awkwardness.

  He led her over to the railing, where a cool and salty breeze rose up from the water. “This music isn’t my thing,” he said.

  Having hardly had time for dancing in recent years, Eva had to agree. “I would just embarrass everyone around if I tried those moves.”

  “Why are you always so hard on yourself?” he said.

  “I’m not—”

  “You are. I get the sense that you blame yourself for your sister, and there’s something else you’re not telling me.”

  Her throat caught. “It’s just been hard back at home, losing my father last year and feeling responsible for my sister. My family is everything to me, and now Ruby, the only one I have left, is sick. It terrifies me.”

  “You were close to your father?”

  She nodded. “My father was tough but he was my biggest fan. When he died, a huge light went out in my life. He instilled in me a reverence for medicine and healing and making a difference in the world.”

  “Your father was a lucky man,” Clark said.

  “I know we don’t get to choose our parents, but if we could, I would have chosen him over every other man on earth,” she said.

  “I hope my children say that about me one day,” Clark said.

  “You still want children?”

  “More than anything.”

  “I give you credit, Clark. For not letting yourself be shut down by your loss. I’ve seen it happen so many times. But you, you are still a part of the world, still smiling at life.”

  He blew like a horse. “I’m working on it. It hasn’t been easy. I lost thirty pounds, didn’t sleep for six months and was like a ghost in the world. I didn’t want to be here.”

  “What changed?” Eva asked.

  “One day I saw a young father playing in the ocean with his daughter. The absolute love between them was so clear. I thought to myself, I don’t want to leave without knowing that.”

  Eva was on the verge of tears, so she wasn’t conscious of his bending down until his lips met hers. Softly at first, like butterfly wings but more insistent, until his whole body was pressed against every nook and cranny of hers. She liked how he tasted, his warmth and his hardness, and how his hands firmly held her waist. All that wanting built up inside over the past few days welled up and she felt her body give way. No one had kissed her like this before.

  Ever.

  She leaned back into the darkness, waves lapping below, and let him tangle his hands in her hair. His stubble scraped against her chin, but she barely noticed. A soft moan escaped. Her whole body was trembling with need. He clutched her even tighter, and yet still he wasn’t close enough.

  The way his tongue teased the inside of her mouth, slow and soft and hopeful—as if they would be here all night—was causing a strange humming on her insides. She wrapped one leg around his, as high as she could, and pulled him in tighter, if that were possible. Her back arched against the cold, hard railing.

  Stop, a small voice inside whispered. Eva ignored it and kept on kissing.

  She was conscious of him hoisting her up and swinging her around, placing her on a nearby bar stool with one leg on either side of him. He had to hunch down a little to see eye to eye. Maybe it was starlight or maybe she had grown accustomed to the darkness, but she could see every contour of his angular face, every fleck of light in his eye.

  “You taste like the ocean,” he said, his voice hoarse.

  “I hope that’s a good thing.”

  One side of his mouth curled up. “Very good.”

  Leaning in again, his lips hovered an inch away from hers. Steamy breath. Eva felt herself on the edge of not being able to stop where this was headed. His palms moved up along the outside of her thighs. She closed her eyes, summoned bravery.

  It had to be now.

  Eva put her hand on his chest and pushed him back. She took a deep breath and smoothed her skirt down over her knees. “Look, Clark, I know we’ve spent a lot of time together on board—” Each syllable was a hunk of meat lodged in her throat. “And I have grown very fond of you, as I’m sure you can tell, but there’s something I haven’t mentioned, which I certainly should have right from the very start.” A sore pause.

  He waited in silence for her to continue, a strained look on his face. She wanted to pull him back close, to kiss instead of talk. But there was no chance of that now.

  The rest came out jumbled. “There is a man—I mean I have a man, a boy...friend, in Honolulu waiting for me.”

  Saying the words aloud was a shock to her system. She felt like keeling over then and there, or retreating into a shell if only she had one. It would have been better if Clark said something, but he made no move to answer. He just slowly turned and looked out at the ocean. She wished she could have rewound the clock to that first night at the captain’s dinner table. She would have casually told the table that Billy was expecting her in Honolulu.

  Still, Clark stood in the worst kind of silence.

  Her heart was poundin
g. “Say something?” she said.

  “What’s there to say? The trip is over and we’ll each go our own way,” he said, in a flat tone as though he was entirely disinterested.

  “Can we be friends still?” she pleaded.

  “My work keeps me busy, Eva.”

  Here she’d gone and made him loathe her, detestable human that she was. She deserved it. Even worse was the searing thought of not seeing him again. Her confession had ruined all chances of that. She looked down at her trembling hands. Fought back a sob.

  “Well, then.”

  He stepped aside. “Well, then, I have some business to attend to, if you’ll excuse me.”

  Her lip quivered as he walked away. Tears slid down her face. When she turned to see the phosphorescence once more, it was gone, as though someone had switched off all the lights in the ocean.

  THE WOODS WING

  September 21, 1941

  The Woods Wing was part of Hollowcreek General, but a wall had been built to separate the two and keep the dreaded germs contained. Now you had to walk outside the building to enter. For some nurses and even a few of the doctors, an assignment in the Woods Wing was a game of Russian roulette. It was easy for adults to catch the polio virus and then pass it on to their own children. Hence, no one but hospital staff was allowed in. But Evelyn never minded. She had no kids.

  “What are you doing here?” Milly Upton asked when Evelyn walked in the door.

  “Dr. Brown sent me,” she said.

  “Again?”

  “I must have that effect on him.”

  Last time he had sent her to Woods Wing, it was after she had politely suggested to ease off on the ether based on the patient’s pupils. He hadn’t liked that one bit. But what was the point of having a trained anesthetist if you refused to listen to her? She wished she could be more forceful with him, but he was such a bully.

  Milly handed Evelyn a folder. “I could use another hand here. We have two new cases, brothers aged four and seven. One completely paralyzed, the other has a hunched and sluggish gait, but he’s still able to move around.”

  After scanning over the chart, Evelyn went straight into the room. The older brother, Jimmy Dalloway, lay in his bed with a frightened look on his face, while the younger one snored like a goose. Her heart ached for the two boys. Greasy orange hair and freckles, and slightly malnourished.