Guarding Hearts

by Jaycie Morrison

  She was halfway to the motor pool when she heard a familiar voice call her name. It was Hartley. Rains saluted her and Hartley returned the greeting before she whispered, “We should talk. I’ll call tonight.”

  Rains nodded and pointed in the direction of the parking lot, as if Hartley had asked her a question related to cars. She hated the deception, but it would be necessary until they determined their friends and their enemies. Looking into Kathleen’s eyes, she spoke from the heart. “Be very careful, Captain. This will get worse before it gets better.”

  * * *

  Sharon looked at her questioningly when she returned, but Rains only shook her head slightly. She knew her secretary would hear all the details soon enough, but she didn’t want to be the one to repeat the news of the meeting. Her throat felt tight, and the words would scratch like sandpaper…if she could even get them out.

  The radio was on, though, and she paused to hear the announcer give the latest war updates. As the German counteroffensive had intensified and the magnitude of it was better understood, everyone—from the average civilian to the highest military brass—seemed focused on the events in the Ardennes. Bastogne was a hub city, with seven roads going in and out, and therefore was critical to the movement of German armor as they pressed their surprise attack. But a stubborn conglomeration of American airborne and armored infantry forces had been holding the town against superior Nazi forces for days. There was news from all along the front, but the siege at Bastogne had captured the public’s attention, and morale of soldiers everywhere had been boosted by the stubborn defense of the town. For now, the terrible winter weather meant the surrounded forces could not be resupplied or assisted by air support, but the newscaster offered hope that the weather was due to improve. Thinking of her brother Thomas, Rains went into her office…and closed the door.

  * * *

  The gentle press of warm lips brought a smile to Bett’s face. She hadn’t heard Rain come in, but that wasn’t unusual at any time. Since she’d been working nights, however, her sleep was especially heavy and deep.

  “You are very tempting, there in that bed,” Rain murmured.

  “Come and join me, then,” Bett whispered, patting the pillow even as she wondered if she could actually manage any kind of intimacy. Lately, the only thing she’d felt was exhaustion. When Rain didn’t answer, she opened her eyes. “What is it?”

  “I need to change and then we should eat.” When Bett cocked her head, she added, “And yes, there is something I need to tell you.”

  By the time they’d finished dinner, Bett was wide awake and spitting mad. “Damn that woman,” she fumed, speaking of Miriam Boudreaux. “Because she couldn’t keep her hands to herself, we’re all going to be under the gun.” As a recruit, she’d been amused by how seriously some of the women took the soldiering business, but her attitude had changed since she’d been in cryptography. Now her work was important and gratifying, and she’d taken on a new feeling of satisfaction in what she was doing for her country. There was no question that without the Army, none of this would have been possible, but there was also no question that the same Army would rid itself of her and Rain and anyone else they suspected of such “perversion” before they could blink twice.

  “What are we going to do?” she asked, because of course Rain would have a plan.

  “Kathleen is going to call,” Rain answered before she thought better of it.

  Bett’s eyes narrowed. “Is she now? Well, that’s cozy. I suppose brilliant Captain Hartley will have all the answers and all of our problems will be solved.” God, she was tired of hearing that woman’s name.

  Rain stood and began clearing the dishes. “Bett, she was in the officers’ meeting and we only spoke for a few seconds afterward. But we agreed we’d talk tonight and work on a plan.”

  “Good. Let me know how she works it all out.” If she hadn’t already been mad, it might not have sounded so bitter. But she’d never had to deal with a rival before and it was making her crazy. In the past, she’d never kept company with one woman long enough to care. She stood too, intending to finish getting ready and go in early. But halfway down the hall, she realized this wasn’t what she wanted to do at all. She hated arguing with Rain because the distance it created between them made her heart feel hollow. She turned back to the kitchen where Rain was wiping her hands on a dish towel.

  “Tell me this: When you and Kathleen spoke after the meeting, did she seek you out or did you speak to her first?”

  “I was on my way back to the motor pool and she called to me.”

  Rain had answered without hesitation, not that Bett would have questioned her anyway. Rain wouldn’t lie to her—of that, she was convinced. She sighed and took a step closer. “Rain, I know you don’t see it, but…” She trailed off when Rain took a step toward her. She really didn’t want this fight. She wanted Rain to take her in her arms and say it would all work out. She wanted Rain to tell her those brave men at Bastogne, including her brother, would be okay and that this whole terrible war would be over soon and there would be peace and they would always be together. Always? That last thought surprised her a little, partly because the war had made words like that almost unusable, but mainly because she’d never been an always kind of girl. She and Rain used words like “only” and “always” during their most romantic moments, but with the other women, she’d maintained that things said in the heat of passion didn’t really count. At that time, she’d never been a live with someone kind of girl either, but that too was different now. Rain seemed to sense the change in her mood, because she put her hands cautiously on Bett’s shoulders.

  “I realize you worry about Kathleen’s intentions, but do you also worry about mine?”

  She found herself staring into Rain’s eyes, seeing only love and complete devotion there. “No,” she said quietly, before she could stop herself. Would it help her cause if Rain believed she was worried about her too?

  As if reading her thoughts, Rain said, “Good. Because that is what I hold to. Your trust in me and mine in you is one of the ties that binds us together.”

  Sometimes Rain used language that was almost poetic or religious sounding, and Bett had often wondered if it was because of her voracious reading habit. Now it just seemed sweet and true—exactly like Rain herself. Bett moved against her lover’s body, wrapping her arms around her waist. “Are you sure you want to be bound to me? I can be such a bitch sometimes.”

  Rain held her close. “I am sure I am exactly where I want to be at this moment and you are the only one I will be with, always.”

  There’s that word again, Bett thought as she relaxed into Rain’s familiar embrace. A few weeks ago, Rain had spoken of Bett coming with her to the reservation to meet her people, but she hadn’t repeated the invitation since Bett had told her about her marriage. For days now, she’d been too caught up in her work to think about anything else, but perhaps this was a good time to mention it again. As she opened her mouth to speak, the phone rang. Rain didn’t flinch, didn’t let her go, didn’t move at all from holding her. “Shouldn’t I get that?” Bett asked, secretly pleased that it seemed of such little importance.

  “Only if you want to,” Rain said, planting soft kisses in Bett’s hair. “Personally, I’d rather keep doing this.”

  “Only this?” Bett asked as a second ring echoed around the kitchen.

  “Well, sometimes one thing leads to another,” Rain murmured, smoothing her hands down Bett’s back. “You taught me that.”

  “Did I?” Bett laughed as the phone rang a third time. “All right. I give up.” Reluctantly she stepped away, smiling at Rain’s little grunt of disappointment, and answered the phone. When she looked back after saying hello, the desire in Rain’s eyes almost stopped her breath. She was going to make damn sure no other woman ever saw that look. Especially not the one on the other end of the line.

  * * *

  That night, Bett spent the first few hours coordinating between Luna’s
transmissions and those being relayed to the advancing troops. Not surprisingly, a blame game had begun among the higher ranks. How had intelligence misread this German buildup? It was now speculated that as many as thirty German divisions—a quarter of a million men—had massed along a thinly guarded stretch of the American lines. It was becoming clear their intent was to split the Allied forces and gain access to the Belgium port of Antwerp. Aware of the high-profile, extremely sensitive content of the messages, along with the intense scrutiny at every level, Bett wasn’t able to send Luna the word “thaŋkšítku” or even “sister.” Even so, the tone and content of Luna’s replies seemed less anxious, more normal, than on that first night. Bett could only hope he wasn’t in too much pain, though she imagined him to be tough and stoic, like Rain.

  She thought of her conversation with Kathleen and the plan for the four of them to meet for dinner tomorrow evening. Everyone agreed that another day would bring more information about the situation on the base, even if the source was only the WAC rumor mill. Bett vacillated between wishing the cryptography building was located on base so she wouldn’t have to rely on secondhand information and being glad that it wasn’t.

  Cryptography members were so thoroughly vetted, she was fairly certain there’d be no further examination of her or the other WACs who worked there. But Kathleen’s tone made it clear she was worried—very worried—and perhaps she had good reason to be. Probably not for herself though, Bett thought, envisioning Kathleen’s pretty face and distinctly feminine manner. Even with the primary suspect already under house arrest, Bett reasoned that whatever else was happening on base could be like the Army’s version of an inquisition in which old scores were settled, all in the guise of “rooting out undesirables.” Thankfully, highly trained medical personnel—even adorably butch ones like Whit—were viewed as critical, greatly valued units and therefore less likely to be targeted. She swallowed as awareness dawned. Kathleen was worried about Rain. Her Rain, her wonderful, beloved Rain, for whom leaving the Army—especially under questionable circumstances—would be unacceptable, almost beyond bearing. She straightened in her chair. It simply wasn’t going to be allowed to happen. She had money, and money was power. She would do whatever it took to make sure Rain was safe.

  Satisfied with that decision, her mind turned to her other worry. She hadn’t been able to reach her mother to inform her their trip to New York would have to wait. She had called three times on three different days—twice from home in the afternoon and once in the evening while waiting for a transmission to come in. Each time the housekeeper had said her mother was away or “unavailable.” Bett hadn’t wanted to leave her bad news in a message, but tonight’s news from the Ardennes had made the decision for her. As soon as she’d concluded her immediate duties that evening, she’d called and left the information with the housekeeper. I cannot come to New York now due to circumstances beyond my control. I will call you again as soon as possible and we will make other arrangements. Happy Holidays. Love, Bett

  In truth, she was more than a little relieved to be spared the trip. She couldn’t seem to muster up her usual excitement at the prospect of bustling sidewalks and busy New York traffic, and the indulgence of staying in her mother’s luxurious apartment while making meaningless chatter at lavish parties seemed vulgar, given her intensive participation in the desperate struggle that the press had taken to calling “The Battle of the Bulge.” While waiting on Luna’s messages in the deep of Iowa’s December nights, Bett couldn’t stop envisioning him and his comrades—outnumbered and freezing, with food, ammunition, and medical supplies running low. Now rumors were reaching them that the Nazis were executing prisoners and torturing civilians. She felt raw and humbled by what she had, much of which she had often taken for granted. She’d never considered herself particularly patriotic, but she knew her country was fighting this war for all the right reasons. Deep gratitude filled her at the thought of her safe little home, and memories of Rain’s sweet loving touch and warm tender words gave her profound comfort. What she needed most was some quiet, contemplative time with her lover, but there were battles to be fought at Fort Des Moines too. And she’d never been more convinced that those actions were for all the right reasons as well.

  * * *

  They picked up Kathleen and Whit and went to dinner at Mel’s, a restaurant that Rains knew well. They needed privacy for this discussion, and Rains was able to say with some certainty that official Women’s Army Corps eyes and ears would not be there. Whit took to the place immediately, remarking that it reminded her of a favorite diner in Chicago. Kathleen was a bit more tentative until the owners, Gracie and Mel, upon learning she was considering a future in food service, warmed her with stories of restaurant adversities and customer disasters—all told in good humor, of course.

  Once their food arrived, the group ate quietly for a moment. When their plates were empty and Whit grunted her approval as Kathleen wiped her mouth with a napkin, Rains took that as a sign to begin.

  “One concern is what will happen within departments in light of these meetings and the pressure that will be brought to bear. I worry that fingers will be pointed for no reason other than a grudge or someone attempting to save themselves by naming others.”

  Word was already out that Sergeant Nash’s three-hour session with the colonel had ended with her being transferred to another base. The head of the quartermasters’ meeting was much shorter, and there were no immediate, obvious results. One issue was whether officers were being asked to volunteer questionable individuals up front or if they being told to return to their units with the idea of deciding on names. Was there a quota? No one knew.

  “At this point, our only recourse as officers will be to encourage calm among those we know and to emphasize the ‘bad apple’ aspect of this situation. The perpetrator of this evil has been taken into custody. No one else needs to suffer for her misdeeds. The WAC has cleaned its house quickly and effectively.”

  Whit and Kathleen nodded solemnly. Rains felt Bett’s hand squeezing her leg under the table, and the corner of her mouth lifted briefly in acknowledgment. “But we must also deal with the root of our problem. Are we all in agreement that the individual responsible must leave the WAC now?” she asked, relieved to see that everyone, even Whit, nodded. “The question then is how to accomplish that without sacrificing our own careers.” They all looked at her expectantly. “And I welcome your suggestions because I have no experience with this kind of intrigue.”

  Watching the faces around her fall into expressions of indecision, Rains understood and accepted that the burden of responsibility was on her shoulders. That had always been her advantage in the WAC. Most White women were only trained to be, not to act, as she had been.

  Bett turned to Whit. “Has anyone has questioned Miriam yet? I assume she’ll be asked to name others, and if she is, will she?”

  Whit shook her head. “I’m sure she needed most of the day to sleep off the booze. But I don’t know the procedure in cases like this and I don’t know Miriam’s state of mind right now. She might not give up anyone else, if she can see herself as the hero in this scenario. She likes that role almost as much as that of the lady-killer.”

  “She would only be a hero to us,” Kathleen pointed out. “It would seem the case against her is pretty strong. Apparently, the girl she fondled punched her and went straight to Colonel Issacson.”

  “Who is the girl’s sergeant?” Rains asked quietly, thinking of the time she’d first become aware of Miriam Boudreaux’s twisted behavior, back when it involved a recruit from her squad. She deserved this responsibility because she should have taken action right then.

  “Someone new. I don’t know her,” Kathleen answered. “She might have been your replacement, Gale. I believe her last name is Archer.”

  This time Bett didn’t hide her touch. She put her hand on Rains’s arm and they looked at each other for a long moment. Rains knew Bett must be feeling terrible for the young woman who ha
d been her friend during basic training. “Yes. We know her. I’ll go in early tomorrow and speak with her. Then I’ll go by Boudreaux’s room and see if I can get some sense of her intentions.”

  Kathleen looked at her, shaking her head. “I’m not sure that’s a good idea, Gale. Miriam was very angry with you at that last dinner we had. Seeing you now might push her over the edge and make her decide to turn us all in.”

  “Or perhaps it is what she needs to find the courage not to. To have her so-called enemy acknowledge the power she now holds. You said we needed to find a way to let her beat me at something. Perhaps this is it.”