CJ nodded reluctantly. “I get it. You’re going home to do the right thing. That’s one of the reasons I love you, because even though you pretend otherwise, you’re a good egg.”
“So are you. I’ll miss you,” Brady added, her chin resting on CJ’s shoulder. “More than you know.”
“I think I know.” CJ kissed her slowly, trying to help in the one way she knew how.
At the sound of footsteps, they flinched apart.
“Relax,” Janice said, “it’s me. But you two have got to be more careful. I could have been anyone.”
* * *
“You look like someone kicked your puppy.”
“She does, doesn’t she?”
CJ glanced over her shoulder to see Reggie and Toby walking along the dirt road behind her. She’d left Brady a little while before, but instead of going straight back to her barracks, she’d decided to take a walk around the compound before bed check.
“What are you two up to?” she asked, deflecting the comment.
Reggie’s smile was smug. “We just said goodnight to our ladies. What about you? How was your date?”
“Not so good,” CJ admitted, and quickly filled them in on the evening’s events.
“Oh, no.” Toby slid an arm around her shoulders. “I’m sorry, pal.”
“What about Christmas at the Grand Canyon?” Reggie asked. “You were both so excited.”
With the holiday a week off, CJ had asked Brady the same question.
“It’s not like you’ll have a hard time finding someone else to take,” Brady had replied. As CJ stared at her, she’d added quickly, “Like Sarah or Reggie, I mean. But do me a favor? Don’t take Nell.”
CJ had snorted. “I don’t think there’s any danger of that. I let her know there would be nothing extracurricular between us, not even flying.”
“You did?” Brady’s eyes brightened momentarily.
“I probably should have done it sooner—you were right about her, I think. But I really like flying.”
At that, Brady had rolled her eyes. “Gee, I hadn’t noticed.”
Now CJ glanced at her friends. “I don’t want to go without her. Do either of you want the reservation?”
Toby shook her head. “Kate and I got tickets to Albuquerque. She has an aunt who lives there—an unmarried aunt who seems awfully interested in meeting me.”
“I’ll take it,” Reggie volunteered. “Holly’s been dropping comments about going away together ever since I told her about your plans.”
“In that case, it’s all yours.”
As Reggie whooped and leapt into the air, CJ exchanged an amused look with Toby. At least someone would be able to use the room.
Back at the barracks, CJ got ready for bed, surrounded by her laughing, chatting, griping squad mates. A few others were as quiet as she was, and she wondered what pain their silences hid: trouble with a superior officer, a relative missing in action, a gold star banner in a window back home? There was no way of knowing what the person beside you was going through unless she opened up and let you in. And even then, there was no real way of sharing how that person felt, even if they told you in no uncertain terms. CJ knew Brady was grieving Nate, but she had no idea what it would feel like to lose a boy she’d known since kindergarten, the one she had once thought she might settle down and raise a family with. She hadn’t known Sean all that long, and besides, he was safely back in Ann Arbor with his deferment.
The wireless in the day room was playing holiday tunes, but CJ couldn’t get into the spirit. This time last week she’d been planning the Grand Canyon surprise, and now she was facing a lonely Christmas in Texas without her closest friends, let alone her girlfriend. She had no doubt Brady would be home well before the holiday. In cases of compassionate leave on the home front, the military machine rolled quickly. As soon as the request came in from the Red Cross verifying Brady’s family emergency, the paperwork chain would start. Within forty-eight hours, she would be granted leave to attend Nate’s memorial service. By mid-week, she would probably be back in L.A., back in the house she had grown up in with the family and friends who knew her as a version of herself that CJ had never met. Would Brady revert to who she had once been? Or would she remain the woman she had become?
CJ wished she could be sure of the answer.
* * *
The military machine moved even faster than expected. After noon mess the next day, CJ found herself driving Brady to the train station in the same car that had taken them to Cloudcroft what now seemed like eons ago.
“I wish you didn’t have to go,” she said as she drove. “Are you honestly not coming back until after New Year’s?”
“I’ll be back on the third, maybe sooner.”
“It sounds like forever. Promise you’ll call on Christmas?”
Brady nodded. “I would call you every day if I could.”
They had agreed that talking frequently would not only cost a fortune but also raise suspicion. They couldn’t risk written correspondence for the same reason—their mail was guaranteed to be read by their company censors. For the next two weeks, they would be operating on near radio silence.
Their hands lay clasped together on the seat, and CJ could feel Brady watching her.
“I wish you were coming with me.”
“Really?” CJ glanced at her, then back at the road.
“Really.”
“And what would you tell your parents?”
“That you’re my illicit female lover, of course, and they’d better get used to seeing us together.”
“You wouldn’t!”
Brady smiled a little. “You never know. Depends on how much they infuriate me.”
“In that case, I think I’m glad I’m not going with you.”
The Union Depot lay on the opposite side of town from the post. With its six-story bell tower and Victorian spire, it was hard to miss once you got past the crowded brick and sandstone blocks of downtown El Paso. CJ parked the car and helped Brady with her small hard-backed suitcase.
“You aren’t really, are you?” Brady asked as they walked toward the station entrance.
“Aren’t what?”
“Glad you’re not going with me.”
“Of course not.”
“Good. Just checking.”
Inside the cavernous central waiting room, sunlight shone down on the patterned marble floor from large windows that ringed the third floor. While Brady went to buy a ticket, CJ slouched down on one of the wide oak benches in the middle of the room, leaned her head back and closed her eyes. She hadn’t slept much the night before. Whenever she did doze, she would wake up thinking about Nate and the direct hit the mobile switchboard unit had taken from a Luftwaffe bomber. A plane like her brother’s, like the bombers Nell and Holly flew—one not very different from the Beechcraft she herself had flown—had released the payload that destroyed the communications installation where Nate and a half dozen other soldiers were working to support the Fifth Army’s Italian campaign.
She couldn’t stop picturing him as he looked in the photo Brady kept in her locker along with her brother’s—young and faintly Robert Taylor-esque in his tennis sweater, with wavy dark hair and a crooked smile. He and Brady would have been a knockout couple, his darkness next to her light. Their children would have been gorgeous too, no doubt. Had he heard the airplane overhead? Had the soldiers inside the mobile unit known they were about to die, or had the bomb struck suddenly, without warning? What was it like to die in a bomb attack? Did you feel your body ripped asunder, or was your soul released before your physical self could die, as some African tribes she’d read about believed?
“There’s a train in half an hour,” Brady said, sitting down next to her so close that their hips touched.
“So soon?” CJ glanced around automatically to see if anyone was watching them. As women in uniform, they still attracted a decent amount of attention. But surprisingly, they were the lone soldiers in the sparsely crowded stat
ion.
“I know.” Brady hesitated, and when she spoke again it was in a low tone. “I wish I could hold your hand.”
“I wish I could do more than hold your hand.” Being close enough to touch but unable to do so was torture. At least she wouldn’t have to suffer that particular torment for the next couple of weeks.
Brady grabbed her hand and tugged her toward another section of the train station, suitcase in tow. CJ followed, not realizing her intent until Brady led her into the women’s restroom, glanced under the doors to check for patrons—there weren’t any—and then pulled her into one of the stalls, leaving her suitcase under the row of sinks.
“What are you…?”
Brady pushed her back against the stall door and kissed her. CJ shut her eyes and leaned into the kiss, even as she was amazed by her ability to do so. They were in a public restroom in a train station that MPs regularly patrolled. And yet, Brady’s grief and longing were so raw that she felt herself melting into her arms, losing track of when and where they were. Brady kissed her desperately, and CJ kissed her back just as urgently, her hands slipping inside Brady’s uniform. Two days apart had seemed like a lifetime. How would they make it through two weeks?
When the door creaked open and an older woman’s voice sounded, followed by a response from a younger woman, CJ and Brady froze, eyes open again. They waited while one of the women used the facilities and washed her hands, chattering to her companion the entire time about miserable stock prices and the dearth of farm equipment, thanks to the war industry. When the door opened again and the women’s footsteps receded, CJ leaned her forehead against Brady’s.
“What are we doing?”
Brady pulled away. “Janice is right. We do need to be more careful. But sometimes when I get close to you I can’t think, not even a little.”
They straightened their uniforms and repaired their lipstick, and then they returned to the wooden bench in the waiting room.
“Will your parents be waiting at the other end?”
“No, they’ll probably send Isabel.” As CJ stared, she added, “Our housekeeper, remember?”
“I remember.” She shook her head.
“What? It’s what everyone does at home.”
“I’m sure it is.”
They sat in silence for a little while, CJ trying not to notice Brady’s proximity. Too bad she couldn’t sneak onto the train with her. If they had a sleeper car, they would find plenty of ways to amuse themselves on the long trip across New Mexico, Arizona and California.
“How far is it, anyway?”
“Eight hundred miles. I’ll be home by tomorrow night.”
All that valuable time they could be spending together, wasted. The ridiculous Army with its arcane rules—why shouldn’t she go with Brady? After all, how exactly was her work with Tow Target supposed to make a difference in the war? It wasn’t like she was a pilot or training to be a navigator or bombardier. She understood why soldiers facing combat needed to be controlled, regimented, reduced to tiny cogs in the military wheel. But she and Brady were lowly privates who would never see combat, like thousands of others who’d volunteered to serve and found themselves stationed on the home front. What would it hurt to allow them a bit more freedom?
Still, she had signed away her personal liberty willingly. Someday the war would be over and she and Brady would be free to go anywhere they desired, anytime they chose. But for now, when Brady’s train was called, all she could do was walk with her to the track, hug her tightly for as long as was wise—perhaps a little longer—and then let go with both hands as Brady boarded the train and found a window seat from which to wave as the train whistled and slowly, slowly chugged out of the station, taking what felt like most of her heart with it.
She watched from the platform until the train was out of sight, and then she got back in Brady’s friend’s car and drove up the Franklin Mountain access road. Midway up was a vantage point, and she pulled the car over and climbed up on its hood, leaning back against the windshield to watch clouds and airplanes move overhead at vastly different speeds. The day was warmer than usual for the season, and soon she was shrugging out of her newly tailored winter overcoat. When the quartermaster had issued it to her two months ago, the coat had hung off her almost comically. Now it fit perfectly, just as Brady’s did.
Nell was right—it didn’t feel like Christmas without snow, evergreens, nativity scenes. People here seemed to favor Mexican holiday displays over traditional American decorations. It was easy to stare up at the bright Texas sky and forget that in a matter of days her family would get together with relatives far and near to celebrate winter solstice, the shortest day of the year, followed closely by the birth of Jesus. There would be caroling parties, wreaths on doors, stars and popcorn strings on trees, the annual collective reading of “A Visit from St. Nicholas” on Christmas Eve before a dying fire, with stockings hung and spiced apple cider mulling on the stove. She could smell the cedar boughs and the pumpkin pie, hear her mother’s and father’s voices raised in harmony as they sang “Silent Night” and “The First Noël” while Rebecca played along on the piano.
The sounds and sights of home were so vivid against her closed eyelids that she was almost surprised when a gust of warm air swirled dust against the hood. Rubbing the grit from her eyes, she gazed out over the sprawl of El Paso and Fort Bliss.
Damn you, Nate. Why did you have to go and get yourself killed?
* * *
Back at the barracks, she signed up in the orderly room for a phone spot. Saturdays and Sundays were popular calling times, but she managed to squeeze her name into a fifteen-minute slot before supper.
It took the operator forever to connect to her family’s line, and then she came back and reported it was in use. Probably one of the neighbors—they shared a line with the DeWitts, Smalls and Andersons, which made getting through difficult sometimes. The line stayed busy, so finally CJ asked the operator to interrupt whoever was on the line and let them know that she was trying to reach her parents from Texas. A moment later, CJ heard her mother’s voice: “Caroline? Is that you?”
“Hi, Mom.” Suddenly her throat was tight and she could barely see through blurred eyes.
“What’s wrong, honey? Are you all right? It isn’t one of the boys, is it?”
CJ tried to swallow back her tears. “No, everything’s fine. Well, not fine. My friend Brady, you know, the one I was supposed to go to the Grand Canyon with? We found out her fiancé was killed in Italy. She’s on her way home for the memorial service right now.”
“Sweetheart, I’m so sorry.” She paused. “I didn’t realize Brady had a fiancé.”
“They grew up together in L.A. That’s where she’s going now.”
“Poor girl. You tell her we’re thinking of her, won’t you?”
“Of course. How are things at home?”
She sat in the hard-backed chair at the orderly’s desk, aware of the sergeant flipping through a magazine a few feet away, and listened as her mother described the weather, the fields, the animals and the rest of the family—everyone except her sister. As the call went on, CJ realized her mother hadn’t mentioned Rebecca, not once.
“Why aren’t you talking about Rebecca? Is she all right?” There was silence at the other end, and CJ gripped the handset more tightly. “Mother? What’s wrong with Rebecca?”
“I wasn’t going to tell you, honey. I didn’t want to ruin your Christmas. It’s not like there’s anything you can do.”
“Oh my God, what’s wrong?”
“She has scarlet fever,” her mother admitted. “She’s been in bed the last week or so, and as you can imagine, she is not very happy with the world right now. I’m sure you remember the feeling.”
CJ was thirteen when she came down with scarlet fever, and she didn’t think she would ever forget having to be quarantined in her bedroom for three weeks while the bacterial infection worked its way through her system. No one else in the family had had it
before, so her brothers and sister had all gone to stay with their grandparents while she’d remained home with her parents throughout the entire quarantine period. After she got better, they’d cut her hair short, burned her bedding and clothes, and disinfected everything else. That had been worse than the illness itself, she remembered.
“How is she? Is it bad?”
“No, we’ve been lucky. It seems to be about as mild for her as it was for you. Dr. Forrest thinks she should be fine in a couple of weeks.”
“Is she on quarantine?”
The sergeant’s head lifted at this.
“Yes, poor thing. I think she’s read every magazine and most of the books in the house.”
“Are you home from school too?”
“The administration thought it would be best not to have me in the classroom, and I wanted to be home anyway, so I started my Christmas break early.”
“What about Pete?”
“He’s fine. He’s staying with the Youngs for now, so of course he and David are on Cloud Nine.”
David, her brother’s best friend from the Boy Scouts, lived on a nearby farm. Something clicked in CJ’s head. Scarlet fever was a serious illness with few treatment options, and since CJ had already had it, she was the lone member of her family who couldn’t catch it again. By rights, the military should let her go home to help nurse her sister back to health.
“Mother, can you do me a favor? Write down what I tell you. If everything works out, I might be able to come home for Christmas.”
“Not really?”
“Really. Now here’s what I want you to do.”
* * *
On Monday morning, Lieutenant Kelly held her after drill.
“At ease, Private,” she said when CJ saluted. “I understand you have a family emergency.”
“Yes, ma’am. My little sister has scarlet fever, and because I’m the only one in the family who’s already had it, my parents are hoping I can come home to help out.”
In the Company of Women Page 27
