Sisters in Arms

by Kaia Alderson

  But none of that prepared Eliza for when she finally built up the nerve to look at the sedated woman’s face. Nothing about it was recognizable. From the swollen blackened eyes, to the misshapen, puffy nose, to the split lips that parted just enough for an oxygen tube to enter. That opening was also big enough to see a space where her front tooth should have been. Eliza gasped in horror despite herself.

  “Oh my God,” she whispered into the hand she had clasped over her mouth. “That poor, poor girl.”

  But the most horrible thing about that moment was that, in Eliza’s mind, she no longer associated the broken body before her with a colleague or one of the soldiers who had been entrusted into her care. Instead, she saw herself as she had been in the immediate aftermath of her attack back in Kentucky. This had been her. This was what had flashed through her parents’ minds when they had received that phone call about their daughter. This was what her father had so stubbornly tried to shield her from when he had basically disowned her to keep her out of “that damned Army.”

  And now Dolores’s family would be receiving the same call. Eliza felt herself tumble back into a hole that she had fought so hard to climb out of. A hole she had vowed she would never allow herself to fall into again.

  She ran out of the room. Noah followed her. “Captain Jones? Eliza, are you all right?”

  “Oh my God,” she repeated. “Oh my God.”

  Then she fainted, crumpling into Noah’s arms.

  GRACE ARRIVED AT the hospital to find a Negro doctor cradling an unconscious Eliza in his arms in the hallway. She rushed up to him, her arms reaching out to Eliza. But she pulled back just short of reaching her.

  “What happened? Did she get hurt too?”

  It would be just her luck for Eliza to get injured too while rushing to cover Grace the one time she wasn’t where she was supposed to be. That was what she got for indulging herself “just this one time.” She would never forgive herself if Eliza’s injuries were permanent. Or worse.

  “No,” the doctor responded. “She fainted as soon as she saw Sergeant Browne’s condition. Excuse me.”

  He walked past Grace and set Eliza down on a nearby empty gurney. A nurse, whom Grace was only just noticing, picked up Eliza’s hand and began tapping it.

  “Are you all right, honey? This is Nurse Jane. Remember me? It’s going to be okay.”

  Grace held her breath as they waited for a response. The nurse began tapping Eliza’s hand again.

  “C’mon, honey. Wake up.”

  Eliza’s eyelids fluttered. She looked over to her side at the nurse. “Jane,” she slurred. “Good to see you. You said you wouldn’t leave my side.”

  “You gave us quite the scare,” the doctor chimed in.

  Eliza looked up and then smiled upon laying eyes on him. “It’s you. Aren’t you getting tired of this knight-in-shining-armor routine?”

  He chuckled. “I’m just glad I was in the right place at the right time to catch you. Again.”

  Grace raised an eyebrow. She wondered what that was all about. But that could be dealt with later. “You mentioned Sergeant Browne. As in Dolores Browne?”

  The doctor nodded his head in affirmation.

  “She’s under my command. She’s in my company. How is she?”

  “Not good.”

  “Oh no.” It was more the way he said it than what he said that filled Grace with dread. It was she who signed off on their leave, Grace thought. So that meant that Grace was responsible for whatever happened to them. That’s when she remembered the others. “Wait. What about the Marys? Bankston and Barlow. They left with Dolores. Are they in bad shape too?”

  The nurse, the one who had said her name was Jane, reached for Grace’s hand. Grace did not like the look of pity Jane was giving her. “Come with me, honey. Let’s talk.”

  It was a talk that Grace would have paid good money to never have heard. Mary Bankston and Mary Barlow were dead. If she had denied their last-minute leave requests, they would still be alive, and Dolores wouldn’t be hanging on to life by a thread. Grace hated how, upon hearing the devastating news, she had reverted back to that numb place inside her. The one in which she had existed for so long after receiving notification of her brother Tony’s death.

  She had worked so hard to climb out of that hole. It hurt, even now, to think about how it had been for her back then. Grace had been an entirely different person. It hadn’t been healthy to hold all that grief and despair inside like that. She knew that now. She had promised herself that she would never allow herself to go back to that emotional void again.

  Yet, here she was.

  She wanted to be anywhere but here in this hospital, with these people who were all looking for her to do something, take charge, come up with a plan. Those were the last things she wanted to be thinking about, when all she wanted to do was curl up in a hole and just not think.

  No, she had grown too much for that. People depended on her now. It was time for Grace to face the music.

  “Eliza, I’m so sorry.”

  “Where were you?” Eliza’s eyes had a vacant cast to them. A pallor had fallen over her skin. Grace looked away. It was hard to see her like that.

  Grace never had a chance to answer the question. It was at that moment that Jonathan came rushing in.

  “Grace? I came back as fast as I could. The girls said you needed me.” He cradled her face in his hands. “Oh, thank God, you’re okay.”

  They all stared at Jonathan’s intimate gesture.

  “You were with him?” Eliza’s mouth twisted in disgust.

  “I can explain.” Grace pushed away his hands. “Jonathan popped up out of nowhere. He had to give me something . . .” Grace stopped. Her explanation sounded like just a list of excuses to her own ears. She had dropped the ball, and at Eliza’s expense. Again. “I lost track of time.”

  “You lost track of time?” Eliza sat up from the gurney. Her mouth was twisted in disgust. “Isn’t that convenient? Miss High and Mighty, with all her rules and lectures about how fraternization is the quickest way for a young, naive private to get sent home. It turns out that ol’ Captain Steele here had been doing it with this War Department stooge all along, weren’t you? It’s bad enough that I caught you damn near kissing a POW.”

  “What?” An astonished Jonathan looked to Grace for an explanation. Her cheeks burned with embarrassment.

  Before she could get a word out, their battalion executive officer, Noel Campbell, turned the corner. At her side, of all people, was General Butler. They both looked astonished.

  Grace gasped before whispering, “Butler’s here too? Great.”

  “Fraternizing with POWs?” General Butler boomed. “Is what I just heard true, Captain? And then you left your post to have an intimate encounter with an official from the War Department?”

  Grace had never been more embarrassed in her life, not even when she had messed up her audition. Her vision blurred as her eyes filled with tears. There was no way she could deny what everyone else had known, or suspected, to be true. Not after Eliza had blurted out her assumptions in front of their chain of command.

  Grace’s chin dropped to her chest. “Not entirely. I never kissed any of the prisoners.”

  “Oh, Grace.” Noel sighed. “I never thought in a million years that you would be the one to do something so stupid. Come with me.” Noel shot Eliza a glance, then whispered to Grace, “Especially since this accusation has been made so publicly. I’m not sure we’ll be able to sweep this under the rug.”

  General Butler pointed at Eliza. “Nurse, is that soldier fit to resume her duties?”

  Jane nodded slowly. “Yes, sir.”

  Noel jumped in before Butler could say anything else. “Good. You can finish up here while I take Captain Steele back to our headquarters. Report to me as soon as you get back.”

  Noel turned to General Butler. “I’m sorry you had to witness any of this. I’ll investigate Captain Steele’s behavior personally and report b
ack to you, sir. We’ll not take up any more of your time today.”

  “I’m beginning to think I was wrong in letting you all continue to lead yourselves. This girl deserves nothing short of a court-martial. I’ll be waiting for your report, Captain Campbell. Philips, come with me.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  Everyone saluted Butler as he marched out. Jonathan followed. Both men looked like they couldn’t get out of there fast enough.

  Eliza mouthed the word “sorry” to Grace. Grace did not respond. Yes, part of her was angry at Eliza for blurting out her secret like that. But she could only be so mad at her. In the end, the only person she could truly be angry with was herself. She was the one who had broken the rules. She knew the consequences of getting involved with Jonathan from the moment she had first laid eyes on him so long ago.

  You forgot that you can’t afford to not be more perfect than anyone else, Grace Steele.

  “As for you, Grace.” Noel looked her in the eye. “Come with me. We need to talk.”

  Chapter 31

  ELIZA SOUGHT OUT Grace as soon as she returned to Caserne Tallandier. Grace was in their shared quarters with a pile of laundry on her bed. But she wasn’t putting the clothes back into the closet. She was packing them into her duffel bag.

  Grace announced, “They’re moving me downstairs for the time being. And then they’re sending me home,” before Eliza could get a word out. “And I am to have no further contact with Jonathan Philips.”

  She made no other move to acknowledge Eliza and went back to shoving work fatigues into her bag.

  “I am so sorry. I didn’t mean to blurt any of that out. I was just so shocked to see you with Jonathan.” The sound of her useless apology made her cringe. “If I had any idea that a general, much less a senior officer, was within earshot—”

  Grace cut her off. “Noel said they will most likely be forced to court-martial me.”

  “But they don’t have to, right? We can talk it over with Charity. I mean, if Charity could maneuver her way out of backtalking Butler, then surely we can cook up a way to get you out of this.”

  “Whether or not they can pull that miracle out of their sleeves, one thing is for sure: I’m going home.”

  “But—”

  Grace held up a hand and shook her head. “It was my own fault that I wasn’t there when I was supposed to be. I was foolish. And I hate that my carelessness is why you had to see Dolores and the two Marys like that.”

  “Don’t give up yet . . .”

  “Honestly, Eliza. I’m not in the mood to talk about it anymore. For what it’s worth, I am truly sorry I put you in that position.”

  “You might not be in the mood, but I . . .”

  Grace laid her with the coldest stare that had ever been thrown Eliza’s way. She shivered despite the July heat trapped inside the room.

  “I said drop it.”

  “Fine.” Eliza stood, smoothed her skirt, and left their room. Her big fat mouth was no doubt about to be the reason Grace was going to be court-martialed and tossed out of the Women’s Army Corps. Fine. But she wasn’t going to let this go without a fight. Eliza made herself scarce by making herself busy instead.

  She waited until she was back in the privacy of her office before she let the tears fall. But she had little time to indulge herself with crying. As part of her duties, it was her responsibility to organize the funeral service arrangements for their deceased soldiers. Luckily, Charity had taken it upon herself to break the sad news of the deaths to the rest of the unit. What Eliza hadn’t expected, however, was how many of the women would come to see her to volunteer to help.

  In fact, this turned out to be a godsend, as the Army’s burial protocol during wartime was to place the remains as is in a plain wooden box and then ship it off to the cemetery that had been established on the Normandy coast after D-Day. Even though active hostilities in Europe had ended two months ago, there were still too many bodies coming in from the battlefields to justify an exception for the two Marys.

  When three privates who had previous mortuary experience came in to volunteer their services, Eliza burst out into tears of relief. Within a day, she had been able to procure everything that was needed to funeralize Mary Bankston and Mary Barlow according to their Protestant and Catholic faiths, respectively, as well as bury their remains with the same care that they would have received had they passed away back home in the States.

  Later that afternoon, Hans knocked on Eliza’s door. “Captain Jones, may I have a moment of your time?”

  “Make it quick.” She was surprised to see him seeking her out. It had been several days since that night in the rec room. Since then, he went out of his way to avoid her. She imagined he did the same with Grace. He carried himself with a lot less bravado than he had in the past. He now stood before her with his chin lowered and his shoulders slumped.

  “The other men and I are making caskets for the girls—I mean, women—who died. They were kind to us when many of us don’t deserve it. We hope you find our craftsmanship a worthy alternative to those plain boxes your Army uses.”

  He had her attention. The cheap pinewood boxes that had arrived looked like they would fall apart if the wind blew. Eliza eyed Hans warily. “Where are you making these caskets?”

  “In the old stables. I’ll take you.”

  Hans led her to a pair of sturdy hardwood caskets in the making that would have been the pride of any undertaker back home. Crosses had been expertly carved on the lids. They had even found a bit of parachute silk to line the insides.

  “I’m impressed.” Eliza ran her hand over the woodwork. “Thank you.”

  She walked back to battalion headquarters shaking her head. “It’s amazing that the same hands that could create such beauty chose to commit such horrors against another human being.”

  “GOOD JOB, JONES.” Charity slapped Eliza on the back. “It looks like our girls are going to have a decent burial. Is there anything else you need?”

  “Just a favor on your part. That is, if Grace agrees to it.”

  Charity sat on the corner of Eliza’s desk. “I’ll do my best.”

  “We need music for the funeral service. Using records is out of the question because there aren’t any available. A few privates claimed they knew how to play the piano. I’ve heard them play. None of them will do.”

  Charity nodded with understanding. “Grace is the best musician we’ve got. And you want my permission to let her perform.”

  Since the night of the accident, Grace had been spending all of her free time at that piano in the rec room. It soon became clear to everyone in the battalion that not only could Grace play, but she was a virtuosa. She proved herself to be versatile enough to play any style of music. Also, she played with a depth of emotion that could touch the bottom of your soul.

  “Yes, ma’am.” Eliza grinned. “She claims she hasn’t touched the piano since she was a civilian. I heard her play something the other day from memory. She was phenomenal!”

  “Phenomenal, huh? Fine, I’ll allow it. Now you have the honor of trying to convince Grace to play.”

  Eliza ducked her head. “I was kind of hoping that you could just order her to do it.”

  Charity held her hands up. “Oh no! This is your mess to clean up.”

  ASKING GRACE WOULD be no easy task. First of all, Grace had already moved out of their shared room in the officers’ quarters, having been assigned to an empty, less spacious room in the basement as part of her “punishment.” It was the first time in three years that Eliza had had a room to herself. She should be relishing the privacy she now had. But instead, she felt lonelier than ever. Even though she had grown up as an only child and should be used to it, Eliza felt like she had lost a sister.

  Eliza still saw Grace on a regular basis, however. The Special Services team worked out of an office next to the rec room. Eliza found her in the rec room when she sought her out.

  “Grace, can I talk to you for a minute?”r />
  Grace’s fingers went still on top of the keys. Eliza wasn’t all that knowledgeable about classical music, but she thought she recognized the piece that Grace had been tinkering with. She took a deep breath and went out on a limb.

  “Was that Bach?”

  “Yes, it was. What of it?” Grace had yet to turn away from the instrument. Had yet to look Eliza in the face. Eliza swallowed again.

  “I know that what you were playing isn’t the easiest piece to master. But here you are, playing it from memory. Wow.”

  Grace sighed with her entire body. There was no way that Eliza could’ve missed her irritation. “You interrupted my ‘genius’ level of play to tell me something that I already know?”

  Eliza wanted to both laugh and wince. There was that old spark of arrogance that Eliza had come to love over the years and that she was now beginning to miss.

  “Yes, well . . . what I really want to know is why none of us have ever seen you play before now? I mean, you could have been on a USO show all this time. Instead, you’ve been here with us. You have so much talent. I don’t understand.”

  At that, Grace pushed back her seat from the piano. “You could ask the same of Vera. She was a foot doctor before the war. But the Army saw fit to use her as an administrative officer. All those boys out there marching for days with boils and God knows what else on their feet. But here she is, along with the rest of us, not using our talents and specialized knowledge.”

  This time, Eliza did wince. Her attempts at buttering up Grace were obviously not working. It was time to woman up and just ask.

  “Grace, look, the funerals are set for tomorrow. I thought it would be nice to have music played at them. Would you—”

  Grace cut her off before she could finish. “Of course. I’m not a monster. I knew both of the Marys. I liked them.”

  She returned her fingers to the keys. Grace held them there, tense. Everything in her posture said, Are we done now?