Embarrassment set in. She started to shake her head, to tell him she felt fine now, but he grasped her elbow lightly and turned them back toward the buildings.
“It’s my job to listen and to help people work through their troubles as best I can,” he said in a tone no different than if he were commenting on the latest snowfall. “Tears are part of the process.” As they passed the chapel, he paused. “Shall we go in here?”
To Elisabeth, the suggestion seemed perfect. The little building offered her both a sense of safety and of privacy. No one would think twice about them being alone together there. Once inside, she sat in silence, absorbing the peace but also wondering what she should say next.
Don seemed to sense her dilemma. He didn’t wait for her to reopen the conversation. “I could offer you any number of trite reassurances, such as that Cynthia could just as easily have died from a fatal illness in peacetime. But I don’t think that would answer what’s disturbing you most. May I ask a really personal question?”
She nodded, certain she would tell him anything if it would help unravel the knot of misery that had been tightening inside her ever since she had found herself part of the Army Nurse Corps.
“Who else have you lost in your life?”
She looked straight into his eyes in astonishment. Of all the questions she might have expected, that was not one of them. Equally surprising to her, her eyes filled with tears. She could barely push the words past the lump of agony in her throat. “My parents.”
His ungloved hand touched hers. “When?”
“At the end of the Great War. A flu epidemic.”
“How old were you?”
“Three. My mother’s twin sister and her fiancé took me in and raised me as their own.”
He honored her grief with silence, then slowly and gently began talking again. “That was a monumental loss for one so young. Though you probably can’t remember the details, I would guess that at the time, you felt as if your entire world had been ripped away. You would have been too young to comprehend any explanations, so you were left with terrible confusion as to why the parents you loved disappeared.”
The tears started slowly, seemingly a continuation of her mourning for her roommate. Childhood memories came with the tears. How often she’d sat in her room as a teenager, wishing she could meet her parents. Papa Johan and Mama Glorie had been wonderful about keeping her parents’ memory alive for her, but she wanted to feel the hugs of those who had given birth to her, to look in their eyes just once and see their love for her. She’d never voiced the feelings aloud, much less shed tears over them. Her adoptive parents had given her so much. Mourning would have seemed so ungrateful.
But now, a profound sense of loss rose within her, feeling as though it came from the deepest part of her soul. She felt as though it would swallow her completely, leaving nothing but the empty shell of her body. She wrapped her arms around her waist as if to hold herself together, and was barely aware of the way she rocked back and forth. This time she didn’t merely sob. She keened with agony that could be released no other way. She wept until she felt limp from the emotion. Don’s patient presence felt like an anchor that kept her from being swept completely away. Only when her rocking stilled did he move close enough on the bench to again put his arms around her.
“It is a huge loss, Elisabeth. You’ve carried this grief for so long. Now you can let it go.”
When she was finally able to look at him again, his eyes were red-rimmed with unshed tears of empathy. “The book of Hebrews says that those who have died form a great cloud of witnesses that cheers us on as we continue our lives here on earth. I know your parents are watching you, Elisabeth, and I know they’re proud of who you’ve become.”
“But I still have so many questions. I can’t simply accept war, sickness, and death as His will and leave it at that.” She felt surprised at the lack of bitterness in her tone. Where there had been anger and frustration, now there was only a clean hurt, one that felt like it would heal, rather than fester for years to come.
“I wish I had answers for you. All I know is that God is big enough for our questions. He knows how we feel and doesn’t blame us for feeling that way.”
“But isn’t it lack of faith that brings us to ask Him why?”
Don gripped both her hands in his. “Knowing Him doesn’t mean we have all the answers. It only means we have a safe place for our questions. As long as we take those questions to Him, rather than clutching them to ourselves and running away, I believe they serve His purpose.”
“That’s not an easy concept to get used to. I wish you were around here every day, so you could keep reminding me.” The first genuine smile she’d felt in weeks lifted her lips.
“God has promised something even better than that. Jesus told His disciples that the Holy Spirit’s mission is to remind us of those things we’ve been taught. The Spirit is with you at all times, so there’s never a moment when His encouragement is too far away for you to hear.” He released her hands, then looked at his watch. “It’s almost lunchtime. Would you like to join me at the mess?”
Elisabeth shook her head. “Thanks for the offer, but I couldn’t handle a crowd right now. I’ll get something at the hospital kitchen before I go on shift.”
“Are you working tomorrow?”
“Yes. This is my first of four afternoon shifts. I don’t mind, though. I came here to be a nurse, and I’d rather be with the patients on Christmas Day than anywhere else.” Except maybe with Ian. But she couldn’t voice that thought, not even to this wonderful man.
“Then you’re just the person they need to have around on a day when they’re bound to be missing home and families. I’ll be praying for you.”
She wanted to ask him to focus his prayers on Ian’s safety, but the words wouldn’t come. Instead, she stood, zipped her parka, and pulled on her mitts. “Thank you so much for taking time for me today. I know something has changed inside me, and it feels good.”
He winked. “That’s what I’m here for. I’ll keep Ian in my prayers, too.”
They left the chapel together then parted. Don went left, toward the base entrance, and Elisabeth went right, toward the nurses’ barracks. Back in her room, she picked up the cedar box containing Grandma Lucy’s journals and letters. The small bound book was ragged from handling and fragile with age. Gently, reverently, she opened it. From the first entry, she felt gripped by the emotions expressed by her ancestor. They were the same thoughts that she, Elisabeth Baker, in 1943, had been thinking, the same questions she’d been afraid to ask God, the same confusion. She read the girlish handwriting until so late that she had to run all the way to the hospital to be on time for work.
She felt strangely energized as she went about her duties until the end of her shift at 11 PM. Her patients were no longer symbols of families torn apart by war. As in her early days of nursing, they were once again individuals in need of the education and skills she’d gained, the solace she could give. When she returned to her room late that night, her heart remained sore from loss, but healing had begun. She lay her head on her pillow, snuggled under her covers, and fell into a dreamless, deeply restful sleep.
Chapter 8
Anew peace accompanied Elisabeth during the following days. While on duty, her mind felt clearer than it ever had. For the first time since Mama Glorie had presented her with the heirloom lamp pin, she felt no unworthiness in wearing it. The pin no longer symbolized an ideal; rather, it made her feel connected with those who had gone before. After every shift, she hurried back to her room to read more in Lucy’s journal. Once she finished the journal, it felt like the most natural thing in the world to pick up her pen and begin writing letters of her own. But instead of letters to God, these were letters to Ian. She wanted desperately for him to know the changes taking place in her and what had sparked those changes.
Two days after the turn of the year, Sandra caught up with Elisabeth as they were both heading out the door for dut
y. “Where have you been hiding, friend?”
Elisabeth grinned. “No place special. I thought you were the one hiding. You haven’t pounded on my door in weeks.”
Sandra’s smile faded. “I didn’t want to bug you too much. You seemed to need time alone after … I mean …” Uncharacteristically, her words trailed off.
“You mean after Cynthia’s death. Yes, it has been an awful time, but I’m doing better now.”
Sandra studied her, then nodded. “I can see that. What made the difference?”
“It’s a long story, but the short version is that my mother sent me her grandmother’s journal. Great-Grandma Lucy was a nurse during the Civil War.”
“Oh, wow! How does it feel to hold a journal almost one hundred years old?”
“Scary.” Elisabeth laughed. “I’m afraid it’s going to fall apart in my hands at any moment. When I get back to the States, I want to find someone who can help me preserve it. It’s something that has to be handed down to the generations of family to come.”
“Thinking that far ahead, are you? Is there something you’re not telling me?”
The two laughed together as they reached the door of the hospital, and then their duties ended the conversation. Elisabeth recorded her thoughts later that evening in her letter to Ian.
Sandra’s comment made me realize that for the first time in my life, I’m looking forward to the future, rather than dreading it. I feel like I’ve finally been able to leave the past in the Father’s hands and rest in His care for the present.
She still didn’t feel comfortable telling him all she held in her heart. Specifically, she held back how her thoughts continually turned to him—wondering where he was, praying for his safety, asking God for an awareness that He was with Ian as he did the duty for which he’d been trained.
Being that it was midwinter, daylight appeared for only a few hours each day. Thus, most of her treks to and from the hospital took place in darkness. She enjoyed it, though, because whenever the cloud cover allowed, she’d catch glimpses of the moon. Even while chatting with Sandra, or any other nurse who happened to accompany her, she still looked for the moon and felt a link with Ian whenever she saw it.
One afternoon, toward the end of her shift, Elisabeth found a note at the desk where the nurses did their record-keeping.
Lieutenant Baker, report to my office at the end of your shift.
Captain Thompson
A shiver of apprehension went through her. More bad news? She touched the lamp pin through her uniform, reminding herself of the divine strength that had helped Lucy Danielson through difficult circumstances.
But when she approached the nursing supervisor’s desk with a crisp salute, the captain looked friendly. “At ease, Lieutenant. Have a seat.”
Elisabeth sat in the indicated chair, taking care to keep her posture straight. She folded her hands in her lap to hide their shaking.
“Are you aware it’s time for your fitness report?”
“No, ma’am.” Elisabeth had completely forgotten about the annual evaluation.
“You’ve had much on your mind.”
“Yes, ma’am.”
“In fact, I was beginning to fear we might have to send you back to the States.”
Elisabeth’s heart rate accelerated. Two months ago, she might have jumped at the chance. Now she felt as if she had finally found her purpose here. “May I ask why?”
“Lieutenant, I know you took your roommate’s death very hard. I felt concerned it might lead to a breakdown. Though we’re not under enemy fire, service here is every bit as demanding as at the front. We would have sent you back for your own health, Lieutenant, not because you had failed in some way.”
Not sure how to respond, Elisabeth waited for her to continue.
Captain Thompson looked through a file, which Elisabeth assumed to be her personnel record. Finally the captain looked up. “You’re a good nurse, Lieutenant. You care deeply, and that communicates itself to our patients. It’s exactly what they need to help them recover so far from home. But caring also puts you at risk for emotional exhaustion. We’ve been pleased to see that since Christmas, you seem to be recovering. Would you care to tell me what has made the difference?”
Elisabeth’s mind raced. She felt compelled to say something, but it was contrary to her nature to confide in someone who still intimidated her. “I had a long talk with Captain Landry, a chaplain on the Canadian side. He helped me find peace.”
The captain nodded. “I’m glad to hear it. And the Canadian pilot? What do you hear from him?”
A wave of dizzy shock passed over Elisabeth. How had the captain learned about Ian? Would she forbid Elisabeth any further contact? Granted, the stipulation against married nurses no longer existed, and thus there was no discouragement against romance. But Captain Thompson was known for being “old school.” Elisabeth sent up a quick prayer for help, then gave the only answer possible. “I haven’t seen him since before Christmas, ma’am.”
“Not by choice, I take it?”
“No, ma’am.”
Captain Thompson’s gaze softened. “Lieutenant Baker, though some days it seems quite the contrary, this war won’t go on forever. You have a lot of your life ahead of you still. Don’t be afraid to let your heart plan for that day.” She cleared her throat, and her voice resumed its gruff tone. “I have been very pleased with your contributions to our unit and to our hospital and will be recommending you for promotion.”
Elisabeth stood and snapped to attention. “Thank you, ma’am.”
“Dismissed.”
Elisabeth returned to her quarters feeling dizzied by the conversation. Not only had she been complimented in her professional life, but if she hadn’t misinterpreted the captain’s comments, she’d also been encouraged in her personal life. A door of hope opened ever so slightly within her. Did she dare? Even if Ian survived his missions, did he care enough about her for her to dream about a future with him?
More unanswerable questions. Her letter writing slowed to nothing. The only thing she wanted to discuss with him was something she couldn’t write. It had to come in person, and it had to come from him first. She followed Lucy’s example and turned her pen toward prayers. As she wrote, the peace that was becoming ever more familiar settled her heart.
Just two nights later, she left the ward at 2315 after an afternoon shift. The moon shone bright and full in a clear sky. She wandered off in the direction she and Ian had taken for their snowbank picnic, drinking in the sight of that luminous connection between them. Was he flying tonight? Was he able to see the moon?
Lost in thoughts and prayers, she didn’t notice anyone approach until a pair of hands settled on her shoulders. Even before her startled gasp left her lips, she recognized the touch. “Ian!” She whirled about in his arms for a joyous hug.
He returned the embrace with equal enthusiasm and a laugh. “I didn’t expect to be greeted this enthusiastically! How have you been, little friend?”
“What are you doing here at this hour?” The question fell from her mouth without any forethought. She clamped her hand over her lips. “I’m sorry. That sounded rude and didn’t answer your question.”
“It’s okay.” He hugged her again. “I know it’s late. I arrived at the airfield less than an hour ago. Since I was so close, I decided to hang around and see if you might be getting off shift. Good intuition or what?”
She couldn’t have stopped smiling if she’d wanted to. “Good intuition, Captain. In answer to your question, I’m doing well.”
“I can see it in your face. I’m glad.” Moonlight illuminated his face so clearly, she could see the expression in his gray eyes. Tenderness showed in his gaze. Her heartbeat quickened and her ability to make conversation vanished. Mesmerized by what she saw, she barely noticed his face coming closer until his lips touched hers. The kiss was brief, but their hearts touched. He drew back slightly, his arms still holding her close.
“Elisabeth?” His
whisper was ragged, as if he were afraid to say more.
“Yes, Ian?”
“I haven’t been able to stop thinking about you. I know you don’t want us to fall in love. I didn’t want it either. But I think it’s happening anyway. Do you mind?”
“Mind?” She laughed softly. “I’ve been hoping you wouldn’t mind if I fell in love with you.”
“It won’t be easy, little one. I can’t stop flying until the air force tells me to park my plane. I can’t even promise I’ll come back safely. But I also can’t leave one more time without letting you know how much I care.”
“I know.” This time she was the one to pull them together in another embrace. “I can wait, and pray, and hope.”
He pulled back again to study her face. He gazed into her eyes as if trying to see her soul. Elisabeth willed her heart to show itself in her gaze. “I’m not afraid anymore, Ian.”
“I can see that. Neither am I. I’ve actually written you some letters to tell you what’s been on my mind. I don’t have long on the ground between flights, but I can meet you for lunch tomorrow if you have time.”
“I have letters to give to you, too.”
“Then let’s each go grab some sleep. I’ll come to the mess here and meet you at the doors. Okay?” He tucked her arm into the crook of his elbow as if to hold her close to him as they walked to her barracks. At the door, he touched his lips to hers again in another meeting of their hearts. “Good night, my little friend. I’ll see you in a few hours.”
Chapter 9
So the pattern of the next three months established itself. Elisabeth never figured out how Ian found time to write. But whenever he had more than six hours between flights, he tracked her down, even if it was for no more than an exchange of letters. She began carrying her letters in her parka pocket just in case she saw him. She also drew up a copy of her schedule so he’d know where to begin looking.
No subject remained undiscussed in their writings to one another. She opened her soul on paper, and he did the same. With each meeting and each exchange, their love grew.
A Sentimental Journey Romance Collection Page 57
