“Were you scared?” Rains asked, swallowing hard.
“At first I was, but then I wasn’t, because I was flying and it was fun.”
“I’m glad you’re back now, Lilly,” Rains managed to say, her voice thick.
“Are you sad again, Rains?” Lilly asked, looking concerned.
Rains cleared her throat. “Yes and no.”
“Why do grownups say that? Why isn’t it one or the other?” Lilly’s tone was one of great annoyance.
“You are a very smart girl, and it is usually one or the other,” Rains answered sincerely. “But sometimes it is both. For me, I am a little sad because of my other friend. But I am not sad because of you. So yes…”
“And no!” Lilly joined in.
Sophie voice came from the hallway. “Someone better not be out of bed.”
Rains and Lilly looked at each other. “Uh-oh,” Rains whispered.
“I’m not out of bed, Mama!” Lilly called, half hiding behind Rains.
Sophie came into the room. Rains stood. “But I see you are awake. We’d better get you home to your own bed, I guess.” She started gathering Sophie’s toys. “And there’s a good-looking blonde wondering where you are, Gale.”
“Why does Mama call you Gale, Rain?” Lilly asked.
“Different people call me by different names. Perhaps because I am different things to different people.” Rains shrugged and Sophie winked at her.
“How many names do you have?” Lilly asked.
She started counting on her fingers, as she walked toward the door. “At least seven,” she answered. “One for each day of the week.” Lilly giggled. “I’ll tell Patrice that Lilly is up,” Rains said to Sophie.
“Thank you, Gale.”
Rains found Patrice in the kitchen, now talking to Kathleen. Rains told her about Lilly, and Patrice got to her feet, groaning, “Ah, the joys of parenthood.”
Whit was coming in from seeing Miriam and Sara to their car. Kathleen raised her eyebrows. “I guess Sara’s catching on. They came in her car this time,” Whit said.
“I want to apologize for the betting,” Rains said to her. “It was wrong of me to embarrass her. I shouldn’t have—”
“No, Gale, please don’t feel bad,” Kathleen interrupted. “If it hadn’t been you, it would have been someone else. Miriam constantly manages to find some kind of drama.”
“It’s always different and it’s always the same,” Rains said quietly. She noticed both fives were gone from the card table. Typical, she thought, of someone who’s most concerned with having enough to buy the next round.
Whit followed her gaze. “Oh, man, I’m sorry about the money. I don’t know the details, but I think Miriam got into some kind of gambling problem a few years ago. That may have even been why she joined the service. I just know she sends everything but her drinking money back home each month.” When Rains nodded thoughtfully, she added, “Miriam was the first person I met here and we’ve gotten to be friends, but she’s been a hell of a swigger for all that time. I tried to talk to her about it once, but she doesn’t see there’s anything wrong.”
Gambling and drinking often went together in her earlier life and Rains nodded again, wondering if the drinking might have contributed to the lieutenant’s other misbehavior. She still questioned herself for the decision not to turn Boudreaux in before, but then she hadn’t heard of any recent inappropriate advances on Boudreaux’s part.
“Do you mind if I ask you why you don’t drink?” Whit questioned, her tone carefully nonjudgmental.
“At one time, drinking was all I wanted to do,” Rains replied. “I thought I could fill the vacant places in me with alcohol. I thought it would numb me from what I didn’t want to feel. It’s possible Boudreaux drinks and gambles for the same reasons.”
“What made you stop?” Kathleen asked quietly. She was genuinely curious, trying to imagine how different the quiet, steady woman standing in her kitchen would be as a drinker, like Miriam Boudreaux. Rains was still for a moment, and Kathleen shifted awkwardly in the silence. “I’m sorry, I don’t mean to be too personal,” she said softly.
“No, it’s all right. I was thinking of how to explain it. The easiest way is to say that I came to know there was something better. Something that filled the emptiness without deadening me inside.”
“What was that?” Whit asked.
“At the time I wouldn’t have known what to call it. Now I would say it was love,” Rains answered. “In one of its many forms.”
Kathleen and Whit both smiled. The sounds of Sophie and Patrice’s voices came through the den. They all went out to say goodbye. Bett followed, carrying several bags.
“Rain!” Lilly cried, reaching out for her. Rains took her and continued walking toward the car. “I’m coming to see you next week!”
“Good. I’ll teach you how to rebuild a carburetor,” Rains said, turning in little circles as she walked.
“Yay!” Lilly said, her eyes bright with excitement.
“Yay, indeed,” Sophie said, tossing bags into the back seat. “Then you can put yourself through college and your moms can retire. Now hurry and give everyone a kiss good night, sweetie.”
Rains carried Lilly around the room so she could give everyone a kiss goodbye and received one herself, along with hugs from Patrice and Sophie. “A teacher who can also rebuild a carburetor would be worth her weight in gold, Gale,” Patrice said.
Rains laughed.
“I’ll call you next week,” Sophie called as they drove away.
“Let us help you clean up,” Bett offered as they walked back inside.
“No, no.” Kathleen refused, smiling. “We have help coming in tomorrow. I carefully plan my events around two issues—Whit’s schedule and my housekeeper’s availability. Please, stay and have a nightcap. Or perhaps a second dessert?”
Rains and Bett looked at each other. “Okay,” they both said. Bett had a nightcap and Rains had a second dessert. Whit joined Rains with a dessert; Kathleen joined Bett in a drink.
They began an easy conversation about their plans for after the war. Kathleen talked about her love of entertaining and mentioned the idea of opening a little tea room, or maybe doing some catering.
“I hope you do the tea room, so I can come,” Bett said. “One of the things I really miss about England is tea time.”
“What else do you miss?” Rains asked, realizing this was a topic that she and Bett had never discussed.
“Oh, I miss the grand buildings and the culture. The many opportunities to visit the theater or museums. Sometimes I even miss the fog and dodging all the umbrellas on the street.”
Whit wanted to continue in the medical field, but her real interest was in pharmacology. She talked about maybe even going to college to study chemistry. “But for now I’m happy being a medic for the Army, and gardener for Kat in my off hours.”
Kathleen nodded, smiling fondly at Whit. “We have almost an acre here, and there’s always something outside that needs tending.”
Rains leaned forward. “If you ever need any help, please call me.”
Bett nodded. “Yes, please do. If you keep her busy with your outdoor chores, perhaps I’ll be spared being taken on those walks she’s so fond of.”
Whit cocked her head slightly. “If you’re serious, I’m planning on cutting back some of the shrubs, now that winter’s here. Maybe this weekend?”
Rains turned to Bett. “You’re working on Saturday?” When Bett nodded, she nodded at Whit. “That sounds fine.”
“Great! I’ll call you on Friday and we’ll set the time.” She turned to Bett. “What do you think you’ll do once the war is over?”
“I really don’t know. I’m sure I don’t want to continue in cryptography. It will all be mechanized soon enough anyway. Maybe manage some kind of small business, like a bookstore or an art gallery?”
“And what about you, Gale? Would you want to stay in the Army even after the war?” Kathleen asked.
Rains stared into the fire, letting her mind seek the future. “I don’t believe our war will ever be over,” she said in a low voice. “Not really. I see us constantly inventing new and better ways to kill each other. We may stop and catch our breath from time to time, but I think there will be fighting somewhere in the world for the rest of our lives.”
Kathleen and Whit looked at each other. “But I thought the war was going really well, now that we have Hitler on the run,” Kathleen said.
Rains didn’t answer. “Rain?” Bett asked quietly.
“What?” Rains said, looking over at her. Her eyes seemed almost cloudy.
Bett looked back at Kathleen and Whit. “I’m sorry. I’d better get this girl home.”
Everyone rose and Whit got their coats. Bett was thanking Kathleen. Whit hugged Rains, then looked searchingly into her face. “You okay, champ?” she asked.
Rains blinked, taking in a deep breath. “Yes, fine. Whit, thank you again for the night we met. And for tonight. It was good to be with you both. I’m looking forward to Saturday.”
Kathleen came over while Bett was hugging Whit. “Not too painful, I hope.” She smiled at Rains and was gratified when the tall woman smiled back.
Rains pointed at her own head. “My brain will be busy for a week.” Kathleen laughed. “But thank you,” Rains said sincerely. “Your house is a welcoming home. And you feel like family now.”
“What a lovely thing to say.” Kathleen embraced her, forcing herself to make it quick. It was painfully obvious Gale Rains was deeply in love with Bett Smythe, and the feeling was mutual. She doubted a howitzer could fire a wedge between those two, and even if it could have, she didn’t own one to use. Friends, then, she thought, reminding herself again that it was just as well, since she wasn’t looking for anything more. “We’ll have you back again soon.”
Bett looked at Rains as they walked toward the car. Her eyes seemed normal again. Bett handed her the keys. “Could you, Beloved? I’m feeling a bit woozy after that last drink.”
As they rode through the quiet night, Bett lay across the seat with her head on Rains’s thigh. “I’m not sleeping, I’m resting my eyes,” she said. Rains helped her into the house and got her undressed for bed. Tucking the covers tightly around her lover, Rains changed into her jeans and flannel before going back into the den to light a fire to greet the ghosts she knew would be coming.
* * *
Rather than the flames, Rain saw the procession of people and events that had shaped the first years of her adult life. Pleased as she was to have finished high school, she felt the longing to return to the reservation strongly, as her older brother Thomas must have before he’d gone back almost two years before. She’d tried to dispel her worry over her younger brother Nikki’s welfare with a flurry of preparing and storing as much food as possible. She and her brothers had taken control of household matters years ago, as her father had given himself to working long shifts at the mine and drinking long shifts at home. Once, Rain had calculated he was slightly over forty, but the years of backbreaking work and hard liquor made him look much older. When she told him she was planning to leave, Curtis Lowell was drunk and didn’t seem to understand what she was saying. But the next morning there was a ten-dollar bill on the table. In the one letter they’d exchanged before she’d joined the WAAC and they’d lost touch, Nikki admitted he had taken the money from their father’s wallet after he passed out.
It was the first time she’d ever experienced the assurance of her own money, and she was amazed at the confidence with which she could face the suspicious glare of the notoriously ill-tempered shopkeeper of the Coaldale Emporium simply by pulling the bill out of her pocket.
“I have money to spend here,” she’d said with conviction.
By way of reply, he’d called to someone in the back of the store—“Esther, come fix up this Injun gal, and get her the hell out of my store”—before walking out the front door.
As Rain thought of the experience that followed, she realized this was a story she could tell Bett. Her lover liked to hear about her past, and it was true that the initial preparation for her journey had been good. Thanks to the sympathetic woman’s generosity, she’d been able to get her supplies and a drawing set for Nikki. When she’d given it to him, the look in his eyes made her forget every bad thing the shopkeeper had said when he’d returned. She asked Nikki to make a drawing for the shopkeeper’s wife, and the night before she left, he had presented her with a wonderful scene of dancing mountain flowers bathed in sunlight, with a waterfall in the background. When she’d given it to the shopkeeper’s wife the next day, the kindhearted woman had been moved to tears.
It was hard to recall those last moments with Nikki, especially now. Through the years since she’d heard from her younger brother, her mind continued to see him in this world, but she had no idea how to find him. She recalled hugging him tightly before she left, a rare physical gesture for her. That brief closeness made her aware Nikki had grown quite a bit in the last year. Though still shorter than she was, he wasn’t so small anymore. Looking at the drawing, she’d told him, “It’s perfect.” There was much more she’d wanted to tell him then, but she settled for, “And so are you. Don’t stop drawing, Nikki. It is who you are, what you are. If you stop, you will disconnect from your true spirit, from your best self.”
Not used to hearing her talk about something personal, he’d only nodded.
“And keep speaking Lakota. You’ll need it when you come to see Thomas and me on the reservation,” she added.
He smiled sadly and hugged her again. “You are the best sister I could have ever had.”
As the fire shifted, her mood was lightened by recollection of the first few weeks of her travels. She slept out in the open, wrapped in her new blanket, her heart soaring under the stars that spanned as far as she could see. She’d felt the exhilaration that comes with a good new beginning. The landscapes filled her up and emptied her out again and again. Sunrises glowed the mountains into daylight, and one night she watched in awe as the flared streaks of a meteor shower ripped across the sky. Sometimes she could only hear the sound of her boot steps on the ground. Sometimes the wind was so loud she couldn’t even hear her own thoughts. Various combinations of voices of coyotes, mountain lions, bears, the bugling of elk, and choruses of birds accompanied her. Some days were warm, and she would stop at noon to dip her feet in a stream. If she happened upon a still pond, she would bathe and even wash out some clothes. Some nights were cool, and she would wear two shirts and roll her blanket tightly around her. Whatever the passing time brought, she lived in awe of the world and all the variety of life.
Days passed and there came a rhythm to her time, waking, eating, walking, and sleeping. Each night she made her camp far enough away from the road that she could not be seen. Her sense of the weather continued to serve her well, and if she felt a storm coming, she made sure to find or make a shelter in plenty of time. Her muscles hardened and her stride lengthened. On a good day, she could make twenty-five miles.
She’d seen there was a fairly direct route to Denver from the small Colorado town where they’d been living, but she’d never been to a city that size, and the thought of all those strangers in one place made her anxious. She’d studied the atlas before she’d left school and had worked out a course that skirted around to the north, toward Boulder, which was still the biggest town she could ever remember seeing. By then her supply of food from home was running low, and she needed to stock up while she could. Whenever it was likely she would encounter other people, Rain had begun tucking her braid inside the flat cap she’d bought. When she caught a glimpse of herself in the store window, she was surprised at how like a young man she looked, thanks to her height and her long, muscled arms and legs. She went inside and spent the fifty cents in change from the shopkeeper’s wife on food in glass jars: peaches and corn and green beans.
At that point she had to make a decision about her route—whethe
r to head east across Nebraska now before going north, or keep going north through Wyoming and then cut across the panhandle of Nebraska. The eastern route would be an easier walk but the Wyoming route was shorter. Rain spent two hours zigzagging from north to east, east to north, sniffing the wind and trying to gauge the weather in each direction. Her favorite teacher, Miss Warren, had told them stories about the terrible dust storms on the plains, but staying nearer the mountains meant the weather would get colder sooner. Something told her it was a very important decision, but she couldn’t seem to choose.
She was still walking on the outskirts of Boulder when she came upon a man with an old farm truck full of chicken coops. About half the chickens had gotten out, and the man was frantically trying to chase them down before they got lost or run over. Rain helped him, and in half an hour they had caught all but two, who were nowhere in sight. She felt bad for the two missing ones, but the man wiped his brow and said, “I sure do thank you, son. Could I give you a lift somewheres?”
Rain had not planning on hitching rides. It seemed dangerous and she didn’t like the idea of not being in control. Sensing some hesitation, the man added, “I’m only going as far as Fort Collins before I turn off to get to my family, but if that’s on your way it would save you a few steps.”
Rain lowered her voice and touched the brim of her flat cap. “Much obliged,” she said. Her decision was made.
For almost one hundred miles, Rain listened to the stories of the man’s wife and children, his farm, and his views on the world in general. She tried to nod or shake her head at the right times, but often she thought about her own life while he rambled on. After he let her off and drove away in a swirl of feathers, her mind continued puzzling over his comments about life, family, home, and especially about love.
Whenever a story or poem from school had been about love, Rain had carefully kept her expression blank, while her thoughts had gone to the closest thing to love she’d experienced outside of her family: her friend Jessie. When she was alone, Rain often replayed moments of their time together, especially the one night they’d spent in Jessie’s bed, their bodies firing hot against each other while their lips touched over and over, saying more than any words Rain could ever have found. Walking through the dusky light, she had wondered what would happen if they were to meet up now. Would they even be friends or would there still be something more? Jessie had been several years older. Maybe she already had someone—maybe even another woman. Later, there had been Miss Warren. The mere opportunity to spend time with the warm and attractive woman had made Rain a better student. Eventually, her memories brought her to the fundamental questions that had been in her mind for years: Why was she different? Why didn’t she feel about boys like she did about girls? Would her feelings change later or would she never be like other girls in that way? Why were thoughts of Jessie’s kisses and her body and Miss Warren’s perfume and her smile the memories that made Rain’s head swim? She wondered if she might find some answers when she got back with her people. Suddenly, she was struck by the memory of a conversation she’d had with her mother shortly before her death.
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