A Memory Between Us (9 page)

“Another one?” Lt. Agnes MacKinnon lifted her glasses, rubbed her eyes, and looked back down to Ruth’s paperwork on her desk. “I can’t afford to lose another nurse.”

How many had applied to the flight nursing program? Nausea swept through Ruth’s system as it had minutes before when she’d fled the mess hall. Sausage? She’d never be hungry enough to eat sausage.

The chief nurse’s sigh made her thin chest collapse under her dark blue uniform jacket. “You’re one of my best nurses. I don’t want to lose you.”

Ruth shifted her weight from one foot to the other. “Thank you, but I need this position. I support four brothers and sisters, and I can’t do so on my current salary.”

Lieutenant MacKinnon frowned at her.

Uh-oh. She’d think Ruth wanted the position only for the money. “It’s not just for the extra pay. Flight nursing appeals to me for many reasons: the responsibility, the independence, the chance to participate in a new age for nursing.”

The chief nurse tapped reedy fingers on the application. “Glamour, romance, adventure—that’s all girls think about nowadays. What about the danger?”

“No more dangerous than if the 12th Evac were transferred to a combat zone.”

“But hospitals are covered by the Geneva Conventions. Air evacuation isn’t. It’s performed in cargo planes. Cargo goes into the combat zone and casualties go out. Because the planes carry cargo, they can’t be marked with the Red Cross, and they’re legitimate targets for the enemy.”

Ruth gripped her hands behind her back and forced a slow breath so she wouldn’t hyperventilate. Her application had taken almost two months to arrive, and who knew how long it would take to be processed. Aunt Pauline’s last letter complained of her sacrifices and the things she did without. Ruth couldn’t afford delays from an apprehensive chief nurse.

“Ma’am, I joined the Army Nurse Corps aware of the risk. We’re at war. Our men face the enemy without question. The least I can do is get the wounded out of danger, care for them, and take them home. I believe I would be an excellent flight nurse. I have the nursing skills, the ability to work independently, the desire to fly, and I am not afraid to be close to combat.”

Lieutenant MacKinnon’s lips pursed together.

Ruth clasped her hands in front of her stomach in a position just short of begging. “Please. Other than becoming a nurse, I’ve never wanted anything more than this. I need a recommendation from a highly respected nurse, which is why I came to you. I know your recommendation would carry weight.”

The lips relaxed, but the eyes remained narrow.

Ruth offered a smile and a shrug. “Besides, my chance of acceptance is slim, isn’t it?”

“Well, there is that.”

“So, please—”

“All right.” Lieutenant MacKinnon heaved a sigh and picked up the application. “I can’t fight patriotism. What do you need?”

Ruth let out a puff of relief. “A letter. A letter, please. They need to know about my work habits and skills. Oh, and they also—they need a statement about my—my morality.” Her throat pressed shut. A nurse was held to the highest standards and could be dismissed for morals violations. Somehow Ruth had always fooled everyone.

“Lieutenant Doherty?” The chief nurse gazed at Ruth over the top of her glasses. “Did your mother ever tell you to guard your reputation as a treasure?”

“Yes, ma’am,” she choked out.

“Be glad you listened. Everyone talks of your high morals. This letter will be easy to write.” She rubbed the bridge of her nose. “And very difficult. I’d hate to lose you.”

“Thank you, ma’am.” Ruth saluted and escaped, her heart straining against its iron shell.

High morals? She set a brisk pace down the pathway. Ten-Penny Doherty? High morals?

Ruth wanted to scream, and for a moment she thought she had, until she raised her head and saw a squadron of squat-nosed fighter planes—P-47 Thunderbolts, Jack called them.

She stretched one hand high as if she could grab hold and climb away from what she had done, from who she was.

10

Bury St. Edmunds

Monday, August 2, 1943

Jack glanced up Northgate Street to the red brick train station with its white Victorian scrollwork. Despite the fog, he had a complete view of the roundabout and he’d spot Ruth no matter which street she took downtown. Time for the next phase of the mission.

His plan had four stages. First came takeoff when he’d established a friendship with Ruth in the hospital.

The second stage, assembly—the group picnics—had gone well. In fact, yesterday’s picnic exceeded expectations. They had all walked around the lake near the hospital, the one shaped like the squiggle over the
N
in Spanish—Ray would know what it was called. Charlie and May lagged, but Ruth stayed by his side, listened with compassion to his tales of the ravages of Blitz Week, and accepted his nudges with his jokes. Her bright laughter and smile goaded him into the third phase of his plan.

Time to cross the Channel and spend time alone with her, which wouldn’t be easy. Ruth’s defenses resembled the flak batteries on the European coast. Jack had to be subtle or he’d never reach the target, that gold ring around her heart.

Charlie thought Jack should slow down until he figured out Ruth’s problem, but what did Charlie know? He’d only had two dates in three years.

Jack made out Ruth’s shapely figure coming down Northgate Street. She couldn’t afford the new olive drab uniforms some of the nurses wore, but she sure looked smart in the dark blue jacket and medium blue skirt.

Jack stepped back around the corner. He unzipped his lightweight leather flight jacket, made sure his shirt collar was open, and stuffed his hands into the pockets of his olive drab trousers. Had to look casual.

He let Ruth pass, then fell in behind her. “‘One misty moisty morning.’”

Ruth looked over her shoulder and smiled.

“‘When cloudy was the weather, I chanced to meet an old man clothed all in leather. He began to compliment and I began to grin. How do you do? And how do you do? And how do you do again?’”

Amusement crinkled her eyes. “It’s afternoon.”

“Yeah, but it’s misty and moisty. Life in England has taught me what that means.”

“No misty moisty mornings in California?”

“In January, not August.” Jack proceeded down the flagstone sidewalk. “And look, you chanced to meet an old man clothed all in leather.”

Ruth held her purse in front of her stomach. “I’m supposed to say, ‘How do you do?’”

“With a grin, please.”

She didn’t. Her chin inched up, and she studied the twostoried houses crammed side by side. “First tell me why you’re in town this misty moisty afternoon.”

The first flak burst. Jack ducked his head to the side. “No mission today. Bad weather and too much damage from Blitz Week. We have to wait for replacement crews and let the mechanics do their work. Thought I’d explore town.”

“Hmm.” Ruth looked at a whitewashed brick house, her suspicion heavy as the fog.

What did he expect? He happened to explore town the same day he knew she’d run errands? No unbuttoned collar could mask that. “Would you mind if I walked with you?”

“As long as we’re not together.”

“All right.” He strode into the street and spread his arms as wide as his grin. “There. We’re not together.”

“Jack!” she cried.

A honk. A delivery van lumbered all of five miles per hour down the street. Jack stepped out of the way and saluted the driver. In return he got a “Bloody Yank!”

“Get back up here.” Ruth motioned frantically. “Don’t make me fix you up again.”

He hopped back onto the sidewalk. “Just as well, now that I’m cleared for active duty. Besides, I’d like your full-time company again, but I’d rather have this.”

Too much. Ruth’s eyes volleyed more flak at him.

He released a sigh. “Oh, come on. You’ve known me almost three months. I’ve never made a move on you, and I’m not about to start now.” Nope, he had to wait a while.

Her eyes fluttered shut. “I’m sorry. I—it’s a habit. I do—I do feel safe with you.” She opened her eyes and revealed how fragile her trust was.

“Thanks.” Time to change the subject. He tilted his head downhill, and they continued on their way. “What do you think of Charlie de Groot?”

“Charlie? Oh, he’s wonderful.”

“He’s taken with May.”

“I’m not surprised. She’s a remarkable woman.” A smile curved Ruth’s pretty lips.

Jack was pleased that the two nurses were becoming friends. From what he could tell, Ruth hadn’t had a friend in years. “Is May taken with Charlie?”

“Are you on a spy mission?”

“No.” He laughed and plucked a handful of cherries from a branch overhead.

“He asked her out yesterday.”

“Yep, and she turned him down, even though he gave up cigarettes for her.”

“Do you blame her?”

“What?” Jack frowned. “First you say what a wonderful guy he is and then—”

“Yes, he’s wonderful, and if we weren’t at war, she’d be a fool to turn him down, but now?”

“Yeah.” He popped a cherry in his mouth and almost spat it out. Sour. Was it even a cherry? “Not many men finish a twenty-five-mission tour. Charlie’s up to eight, but still …”

“How many do you have?”

“One.” He chucked the rest of the fruit into a shrub. He couldn’t wait for the weather to clear. Jefferson Babcock Jr. had racked up lots of missions while Jack was grounded.

“One? What about all the missions you flew in the Pacific?”

“New tour. Start from zero.” He grinned at her expression. “What? Worried about me? Better watch out. That looks like the concern of a friend, not just the concern of a nurse.”

A GMC truck rumbled beside them, and Joe Winchell leaned out the window. “Hiya, Novak.”

“Hi there, Winch. Hi, boys.” The truck was crammed with a dozen men from his squadron. “Touring town?”

“Yep,” Winchell said. “Want a ride downhill?”

“No, thanks. I’m enjoying the walk.” He gazed down at the reason for his enjoyment.

She gave him a saucy tilt of her head. “I’d rather have a ride.”

Several men cheered and scrambled to help Ruth, while Jack watched, dumbstruck. Once in the back of the truck, Ruth smiled down at him, a challenge in her eyes. She expected him to join her. She didn’t want to be together, but she wanted him to follow like a lovesick schoolboy. Well, he wouldn’t play along.

He saluted. “Enjoy the ride, Lieutenant Doherty. See you around.”

The truck pulled away, and Jack laughed to himself at her stunned expression. Ten minutes later, he reached the Abbey Gate, a big square Norman tower. Although he’d sacrificed a walk into town with Ruth, he’d gained something better. Besides, the town wasn’t that big, so he’d find her soon. Jack turned right onto Abbey Gate Street, where window boxes teemed with flowers in defiance of the war. Whatever made Hitler think he could defeat the British?

Jack poked his head into several shops until he found Ruth at the cash register of a bookstore. He leaned back against the counter next to her and crossed his arms. “‘And how do you do again?’”

Ruth held out a trembling hand for her change. “Goodbye,
Major
.”

He searched her stony face. “What’s the matter?”

She gripped her book and stormed out the door.

He shook his head. This wasn’t a burst of flak but a fullblown barrage. He jogged to catch up with her. “What’s going on? Did I say something? What?”

“What?” She marched up the sidewalk. “You abandon me, and you have to ask what you did?”

“Abandoned you? What do you mean?” He stepped in front of her.

She edged past him. “Just that.”

“Wait a minute. How could I abandon you if we weren’t together in the first place?” He grabbed her arm.

“Don’t touch me.” Ruth flailed, and Jack dropped her arm in surprise. “How could you? How could you leave me?”

“I didn’t. I didn’t leave you. You left me, remember? You’re the one who got in the truck. Not me. Be fair.”

Ruth’s head wagged from side to side. “How could you? How could you?”

Jack’s gut twisted in anger. “Don’t pin this on me. You’re just mad ’cause I didn’t play your game, ’cause I didn’t heel like your pet dog, and now you’re mad.”

“No, I’m mad because you left me with those men.” Her voice broke.

“Those men?” His anger detached, sent out feelers, and attached to something new. If anything happened, those men would be in the guardhouse—no, strapped to a bomb—an incendiary bomb. “Did they touch you? Tell me.”

“No, but they could—” She pressed her hand over her eyes. “They could—there were so many …”

His lungs expanded with heat. “Then why on earth did you get in the truck?”

Ruth’s face crumpled. “I thought—I thought you’d come.”

She thought he’d come and protect her. The thought sliced into his lungs, and all the heat and pressure hissed out.

“I thought—I thought …” Her voice was tiny and cramped. “Why am I so stupid?”

Jack leaned back against the brick storefront, took off his cap, and ran his fingers through his hair. He’d never seen her scared before. In the hospital she was in control, the men helpless, but in the truck the situation was reversed. She wanted protection, and he hadn’t provided it. He’d crushed the seed of trust he’d watered for three months. “Boy, did I blow it.”

Her eyes—he couldn’t stand it—anger, hurt, and fear jostled around in that gorgeous blue, all because of him.

“Listen, Ruth. I’m sorry. What was I thinking? A beautiful woman alone in a truck with a dozen men? Oh boy. Just because I know them and trust them doesn’t mean you—oh boy.”

Her jaw softened, and the anger washed from her eyes.

Jack leaned forward. “It won’t happen again. You have my word. I will never leave you alone again.”

Ruth looked up at him, eyes red and questioning.

“Never.” He wanted to take her in his arms and show her what he meant, but the timing couldn’t have been worse. Instead, he set his cap on his head and rubbed his chin. “If I’m going to keep an eye on you, I’d better get hospitalized again. Wait, what about your days off?”