Sisters in Arms

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Sisters in Arms Page 31

by Kaia Alderson


  “I’ll take your word for it. This has been my first opportunity to visit Paris. I find myself taking a liking to their chicory café. It reminds me of a family trip we all took down to New Orleans when I was in college.” Noah gestured toward the empty chair on the opposite side of the table from her. “May I?”

  “Of course. New Orleans, huh? I’ve never been but have always wanted to go. My parents, being the son and daughter of Southerners who escaped from the South, always had an excuse for why they’d never go back down there whenever I asked.”

  “That’s a shame. I’m from Alabama myself. Don’t believe everything you hear about us down there. Our people down South are some of the most salt-of-the-earth people you’ll ever meet. As for them white folks . . .” He shrugged. “Not all of them are bad. But as for the ones who are, they make the devil himself look kind. We all just make a point of not going where they are.”

  Eliza laughed at that. “Okay, I’ll take your word for it.”

  “I can do you one better. Have dinner with me this week. I heard about a spot in Montmartre that serves food from back home with a French twist. You can’t get any closer to New Orleans cooking than that.”

  Eliza had begun spending more time with Noah since the battalion had been reassigned to Paris. With Grace gone, Eliza had taken to moping in her opulent hotel room. Noah put an end to that with invitations to explore the city with him. Unlike her, it was his first time visiting. But, through Noah, she enjoyed seeing the city with new eyes.

  “I’ll go. But we better make it soon. They told me this morning that I finally had enough points accumulated to go back home if I wanted to.”

  “That is good news! But it looks like you weren’t happy to hear that for some reason.”

  “No, it’s just that . . .” Eliza frowned, unable to find adequate words to describe how she felt. She was more than ready to get out of the WAC and go back to civilian life. But she wasn’t looking forward to resuming the life that she had left behind three years ago. “The last thing I want to do is go back to the expectation of being my daddy’s little princess. I can’t pretend to be that girl anymore. Too much has happened.”

  “Who says you have to go back to that?”

  Eliza went still. She stared at him. “Well, first off, I have nowhere else to go.”

  “Forgive me if this is too personal, but what have you been doing with your pay all this time?”

  “I tried to be frugal with my day-to-day expenses. I put some in savings, but not nearly enough to live on my own. The rest I sent back home to my mother.”

  Noah clapped his hands. “Perfect. Do you think she’ll give that money back to you when you go home?”

  “I . . . Honestly, I have no idea. Maybe. That is, if she hasn’t told my father about it all this time. I could see him now, puffing out his chest and declaring that he’s keeping it as reimbursement for raising me and sending me to college.”

  “Of course he wouldn’t. I’m sure he loves you and wants what’s best for you.”

  “Oh, he does. He’s also a know-it-all, self-righteous bastard,” she said with a grin.

  Noah laughed at that. “He sounds like a real piece of work. I can’t wait to meet him.”

  Eliza raised an eyebrow at that. “What makes you think I’ll let you stick around long enough for you to have the chance?”

  “Touché.” He leaned back in his chair. “I’ll leave that on the back burner for now. So, have you heard anything from your friend since she left?”

  She handed Noah Jonathan’s letter. “Only this. But nothing yet from Grace herself. I don’t blame her. She barely spoke to me after that day at the hospital in Rouen.” She sighed. “I like to think that if she did bother sending me a letter it got lost in the mail.”

  They both chuckled at that. Noah reached out and placed his hand over hers. Once again, it felt like a warm blanket on her skin. But she tried to keep her feelings in check. Eliza was sure that this feeling was nothing more than part of the high, now that the war was over and they found themselves in the world’s most romantic city.

  “Give her time. You two have been through a lot together. Even if you spent the majority of it butting heads with each other. She’s probably adjusting to being back stateside and finding her way. Just like you are now.”

  “Yes, maybe she is. Just the same, I wish everybody would stop asking me about her. Everywhere I go, all I hear is ‘Where is your friend? Where is that girl? I heard she can play her some piano.’ But get this. Charity even received a request from someone higher up asking if Grace was available to play at some fancy reception here in the city. That one came in yesterday. It hit me right in the gut. She told me once that it was her dream to become a concert pianist and to play here one day. She came so close to living that dream.”

  “Maybe she can come back once everything settles down enough for civilian travel.”

  Eliza scoffed at that. “I don’t plan on mentioning it to her to find out. She hates me enough as it is.”

  “Then it sounds to me like you have nothing else to lose.”

  Eliza quieted after his comment. The thought of that didn’t sit right with her. She had lost so much already it seemed. Her relationship with her father. Her innocence. Her freedom to come and go as she pleased. She hated to think that she would also have to live with losing the one woman in the WAC who had most become like a sister to her. The sister she had always longed for, even if Grace was an annoying Goody Two-shoes.

  “That right there is where you are wrong. I don’t want to lose her.”

  Noah studied her for a moment. “Not that I consider myself a consolation prize in any way, but you still have me. That is, if you want me.”

  “Noah, I . . . We barely know each other.” Eliza knew that was a lie even as the words came out of her mouth. She just didn’t want to face the inevitable drifting apart once the two of them returned home and their lives returned to “normal.”

  “I know. It’s not something I’m looking for you to give me a definitive answer on at this moment. I’m just letting you know that my interest is there for you to pursue if you should so choose. And on that note, I’m due back at the hospital soon. I’ll leave you to what’s left of your coffee.”

  “Thank you. As for what you said, all I can promise you right now is that I’ll think about it.”

  Somewhere on the Atlantic Ocean

  December 1945

  THANKFULLY, THE ONLY major drama Eliza experienced on this final leg home had occurred right before they had shipped out of Le Havre. Charity Adams was a part of the Six Triple Eight contingent that was coming home with Eliza. With her rank of major, she was the highest-ranking woman on the ship. A group of white nurses protested when they had been informed that a Negro woman would be their commanding officer for the duration of the trip. It had turned into a standoff between them and Charity and the ship’s captain. The ship’s captain finally gave them an ultimatum: “You can stay and live with it. Otherwise, get off my ship while there’s still a gangplank.”

  The reluctant nurses chose to stay. They had not caused any problems since.

  What Eliza and the other women of the 6888th had not expected on this trip was to see the direct result of their efforts right before their eyes. There had been a mail call their first day out at sea. They all looked at each other wordlessly with glassy eyes as all around them battle-hardened combat soldiers broke down into tears as they opened packets of mail sent by friends and family back home. In some cases, it was the first words they had received from home all year.

  Eliza felt herself grinning from ear to ear as she looked back on that moment. It had been a fitting end to the life-changing adventure that had been her time in the Women’s Army Corps. And now, she was on her way back home. She had no idea what waited for her there or what new battles she would have to fight with her father.

  She had seen Noah only a few more times, but they never did go on that date. Soon after their talk at the outd
oor café in Paris, he had received his own orders to ship out. He had been too busy getting ready for them to meet. All Eliza knew was that the ball was still in her court. At least, she hoped it was, although she didn’t see how they could build on what they had started in France a thousand miles apart. He understood that they may not see each other again, with him returning home to his family in Alabama and her not certain if she would settle back in Harlem or wind up someplace else. That last talk had left Eliza both hopeful and rudderless.

  She was so deep in her thoughts that she almost missed the foghorn’s blare. The foghorn had not come from the ship itself but from somewhere out in the mist. Eliza turned her head, straining to hear. But there was nothing more. She had obviously been on this ship too long, because now she was starting to hear things.

  The foghorn blared again. And then like magic, the mist parted, revealing behind it the unmistakable jagged outline of the New York City skyline.

  Eliza smiled so hard that her cheeks hurt. We’re home.

  ELIZA HAD PLANNED to kiss the ground as soon as she was back on American soil. But they had arrived back at Camp Shanks, where there was at least a foot of snow on the ground. She settled for the feel of a good old-fashioned snowball between her mittens instead.

  “Duck!” she yelled at the closest fellow Six Triple Eight member to her. That woman turned out to be none other than Major Charity Adams. Eliza threw the snowball and hit her friend square in the shoulder.

  Charity sputtered, “I’m still your commanding officer, soldier!” And then they both broke out into laughter. Next thing she knew, Charity had returned the favor by hurling a handful of snow into her face.

  The entire group continued on, throwing the occasional snowball as they went. None of the crowds that they had seen in the papers overseas were there to greet them. A local officer pointed in the direction of a nearby bunker. “Go thataway for debriefing, ladies.”

  “That’s it?” Eliza grumbled. “No official greetings? No fanfare? No nothing? You’d have thought we were over there on a pleasure trip instead of serving our country.”

  A few others nodded in agreement as they headed toward the bunker. Most of them had spent two or three years of their lives in the Army. They all had seen the welcome-home fanfare previous soldiers had received in the papers and newsreels while overseas. But for the WACs returning home today, no one had thought to organize anything. Not even a Red Cross welcome wagon. The few people who were there paid little mind to the newly returned batch of female soldiers. It was a slap in the face to their service. “I guess not much has changed in the good ol’ U.S. of A. while we were away.”

  The pride that had swelled inside Eliza left her in a whoosh.

  “Forget them. C’mon, girl.” Charity pulled Eliza along.

  An hour later, Eliza emerged from her final discharge meeting. There were a few taxis parked along the curb and a smattering of families searching among the small milling groups of soldiers, both male and female, for a familiar face. Eliza shaded her eyes as she scanned the crowd. She had hoped to have one last goodbye with Charity before she headed back down South. But she knew Charity had had a tight window to get to the train station. Still, Eliza had hoped to see her friend off properly. They had had quite the adventures together on and off through the years. She hated that, like with Grace, another friend was gone without a proper goodbye.

  Chapter 34

  Harlem, New York

  December 1945

  WHILE THE SHOCK of finding out that Tony was still alive had begun to wear off, not a day went by when she wasn’t thankful to see his face at the breakfast table.

  With Tony back, the tension between Grace and her mother was gone. Time and space and miracles made both women appreciate the opportunity they had to repair their relationship. But that didn’t stop Mama from nagging Grace about her future.

  “I think you should give Juilliard another go,” Mama started as she passed Grace the bowl of grits.

  Grace sighed. “You won’t let up, will you, Mama?”

  “What? All I’m saying is that you shouldn’t let all that talent go to waste.”

  “I’ve already told you, I don’t want to just study the classics anymore. I want to play jazz.” Grace braced herself. They’d had the same conversation over breakfast for the last five months. It always ended with Mama telling her that playing the classics was the only way to pay the bills and stay right with the Lord.

  But this time, Tony surprised them both by chiming in. “You know, Mama, you should hear her play the other stuff sometime. She’s really good.”

  Mama stared at him like he was a small child who had jumped into grown folks’ business. Then she sat back in her chair, like she was chewing over what he had said. “You know what? As of today, I’m washing my hands of it. I’ve been blessed to have both of my children survive the war. Who am I to steal your joy? You want to spend your life listening to that noise? I say go for it. Just don’t waste that talent.”

  GRACE FOUND HERSELF outside Juilliard again that same day. But this time, instead of staring wistfully at the nameplate on the building, there was no hesitation as she walked through the door. She would either make a fool of herself or not. But she refused to live another day of her life with this thing, this fear, hanging over her head. She had just survived the U.S. Women’s Army Corps as a woman of color, for God’s sake. She had, for reasons still unknown, escaped the humiliation of a court-martial and managed to keep her veterans’ benefits. Surely she could stomach a piddly piano audition. She had nothing left to lose.

  “Excuse me, ma’am,” she said to the receptionist. It was a different woman from the last time she was here, thank goodness. “I’m here to play.”

  Later, Grace emerged from the building wearing a big smile on her face. She clutched the folder filled with enrollment paperwork to her chest. She had done it. Starting in January, she was going to be a graduate piano composition student.

  She couldn’t wait to tell her brother. But she wanted to play it cool. The cool thing to do would be to take the next crosstown bus home. But there was someone else she needed to tell first.

  Grace crossed the street and picked up the receiver on the pay phone there. She put in some coins and waited for the operator to answer.

  “Yes, operator. I’m calling Washington, D.C. The number is DuPont-7521. Yes, I’ll hold.”

  In France last summer, Grace hadn’t had a chance to ask Jonathan about what his plans were when he returned to the States. She had no idea if he had gone back to D.C. or if he even had the same home telephone number. Grace chewed her lip. She had gone with her gut with every other decision she had made today. She would just have to continue to trust her instincts now as well.

  And the rich timbre of his voice came over the crackling line. “Hello?”

  “Jonathan, it’s Grace.” She paused. “I got into Juilliard. And they’re going to give me a fellowship to cover anything my veterans’ benefits don’t.”

  Silence. Grace’s heart began to race. Dammit, she really had screwed it up with him back in France. Why isn’t he saying anything?

  “Well, I’m sorry to have called you out of the blue like this. It’s just that . . . I wanted to thank you for your support and for encouraging me. You saw something in me even when I had stopped believing in myself. I had settled for what was ‘safe’ when I met you. You pushed me out of my comfort zone. I’ll always be thankful to you for that.”

  “Well, that was quite a mouthful,” he started when Grace finally paused to take a breath. “First off, Juilliard . . . that’s wonderful! I knew you had it in you. I always did.”

  “Thank you. I still can’t believe it.”

  “Your parents must be so proud. Your brother too.”

  Now it was Grace’s turn to pause. She shouldn’t have been surprised that Jonathan knew about Tony. It had been his job to know about such things, after all. “I haven’t told them yet. It all just happened a few minutes ago. You were t
he first person I wanted to tell.”

  “I’m flattered.”

  “Listen to me. I just blurt out my good news without asking about you. How are you? Are you feeling better since I last saw you? Are you still with the government?”

  “I’m fine. I just needed rest and some good food, both of which I got on my return trip back to the States. And as for the government . . . no, I turned in my resignation as soon as I got back in town. Now I’m in the process of resuming the business I had before the war.”

  “Before the war,” she echoed. “Gosh, that seems like a whole other lifetime ago.”

  “Yes, it was. A lot has happened since then.”

  There was another awkward pause. There was so much left unspoken between them. Grace could feel her euphoria begin to wane. She no longer had the courage to make the first move.

  Jonathan saved her from having to do so. “One of us had better say something, or the operator is going to cut this call short before either one of us wants it to end.”

  “I’m sorry. For the last time we saw each other. My job . . .”

  “Yeah, I know all about that. But you have nothing to apologize for. I’m the one who came and sought you out. And you wound up bearing the brunt of the fallout. If you’d let me, I’d like to make it up to you.”

  “Whatever do you mean, Jonathan?”

  “I mean, I believe I owe you Paris.”

  “I’m sorry, I’m not following.”

  “I’m saying that in addition to rebuilding my law practice here in D.C., I’m also looking to get back into the music business as well. I wasn’t just a lawyer. I was also a talent agent. What I’m offering you, if you have nothing else planned next summer, is that I think I can get you some gigs over in France.” He went on to explain that one of his jazz artists was planning a summer European tour and his usual backup pianist wouldn’t be able to go because of a scheduling conflict.

  He added, “I don’t think I’ll have any trouble convincing Fatha Earl Hines to let you tag along. The word on the street is that you made an impression over there with your piano playing. There were some requests sent to WAC ETO headquarters, but you had already left for the States.”

 

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