Guarding Hearts

by Jaycie Morrison

“We’re all on edge anyway,” Bett assured her. “It will be a good day when we get that beastly woman off our base forever.”

  Kathleen nodded and Rain said, “Give me a moment to get our food out of the oven.”

  “We’ll be fine, Rain. But bring us that wine out of the refrigerator, will you?”

  Chapter Eighteen

  Almost an hour later, Kathleen looked at her watch. “I should get going. I’ll call you in the morning with any news.” Rain walked with her toward the front door, stopping a little farther away then she normally would have. Kathleen apparently noticed. “Are we all right, Gale? I could absolutely kick myself for being that stupid last night. I never would have said or done anything if I hadn’t been drinking, but even so I didn’t…I shouldn’t have…I would really hate it if I’ve blundered away our friendship. I mean, Whit and I both feel that you and Bett are very special people.” Sadness and regret were evident on her attractive features.

  Rain inclined her head. “Thank you, Kathleen. It is good of you to say that.” She edged a little closer. “You may have noticed that I am a slow thinker, and I can’t say I have come to the end of this in my mind. But I was very much enjoying having you as a friend, and I would hope that our friendship would be able to take an unexpected bump from time to time.” She looked away and then back at Kathleen with a hint of a smile. “And if I were the one drinking, I might have done much more damage.”

  Kathleen looked relieved. “Well, I just –”

  Rain held up her hand. “I believe the expression is ‘water under the bridge.’ Is that right?”

  Kathleen laughed as Rain helped her on with her coat. “Yes, thank you, Gale.” They stood looking at each other for a fraction of a second before Rain reached around her for the door. “Good night, Bett,” Kathleen called. Bett came over and gave Kathleen a hug.

  “We’ll have a proper celebration when this is all over,” Bett stage-whispered, tipping an imaginary glass. Rain rolled her eyes while Kathleen laughed again. They watched her walk to her car and drive away. Rain waited to make sure no other car lights came on nearby.

  * * *

  Early the next morning, Bett insisted on driving Rain to Mel’s to get her jeep. “It’s sprinkling, and besides, I don’t want you running on the streets alone.” The fact was, they were both jumpy at the idea of Miriam Boudreaux’s hearing, which was scheduled to begin at 0900.

  The restaurant wasn’t open yet, but Mel must have been watching for them, as he opened the door when Rain got out of Bett’s car. “Here’s the hood number of that other jeep,” he said excitedly, handing Rain a piece of paper. “Thought you might be able to trace who was driving it.”

  “Thank you,” Rain said. “They didn’t notice you, did they?”

  “Nah. If they saw anything, it was just some old man taking out the garbage,” Mel assured her. “Are you two gonna be all right?”

  “Yes,” Rain said. Mel looked to Bett, who nodded. “As long as we have friends like you, we’ll be fine.”

  “Gracie said you promised to be careful.”

  “I did and I will,” Rain said, giving Mel a hug. She and Bett went their separate ways as Mel closed the door.

  * * *

  There was a new directive on her desk when she arrived at the motor pool. Even though there were numerous references to the Army’s Article 125 of the Uniform Code of Military Justice and Section Eight of Army Regulation 615-360—which originally permitted the discharge of personnel with “undesirable habits or traits of character” but had been broadened to include those individuals psychiatrists now defined as “sexual psychopaths”—the tone was less unfavorable than it could have been. The second part of the memorandum urged officers to keep a close eye on those in their command and to make it clear they were available for any kind of confessionals or “friendly conversations” in case the recent incident had stirred up concerns. Any officers with questions as to this process or who wished to report any information were ordered to report to Colonel Issacson directly. She was especially pleased at the paragraph which appeared to be Colonel Issacson’s personal commentary. It stressed the need to avoid unnecessary “witch hunts” and keep everyone focused on doing the jobs that would push America through to victory.

  Lieutenant Rains pushed the memo aside, breathing deeply as she prepared herself for the hearing. After a time she rose, making a quick sweep through the motor pool bays, lingering for a moment here and there to hand someone a tool or give a word of encouragement or praise, trying to ignore the growing worry that this might be her last day in the WAC. Something about the sights and sounds of her team working had always calmed her. Women working together with purpose and respect was a powerful sight, and since Boudreaux’s arrest she’d managed to push her fears about having to leave the Army to the back of her mind. Standing at the door to the motor pool as if she was entering this place for the first time, she allowed herself a moment to think of it. Bett was her heart’s home, and she had to believe there would forever be a place for her there, but the WAC had been her safe haven for the last three years. What would they do if they had to leave the Army? Before Bett, she would have gone back to the reservation, but now? She suspected Bett would resign from the Army as well and would probably want to move to a bigger city. She would want Bett to be happy, but any place much bigger than Des Moines would be a very difficult adjustment for her. And Bett would offer to take care of her financially, but she felt that would change the relationship between them in a way that neither of them would want. Perhaps she could find a job at a garage somewhere? She sighed, reflecting that these were things they shouldn’t have to worry about with the war still going on. But then, they were in a battle now too, and one whose outcome would determine the rest of their lives.

  “Are you all right, Lieutenant?” Sharon asked. “You look like someone else ate your last brownie.”

  Brownies were her favorite dessert, and once she might have felt vulnerable for someone to know her so well, but now Rains had to smile. “Perhaps that’s a sign for you to make me some more.” She trusted that Sharon would appreciate it wasn’t an order or even a request. Bett had explained to her about the teasing way people sometimes talked, something she’d found difficult to understand before. Now whenever she teased someone back, she felt one of the many connections to her lover. She clenched her fists, finding new resolve. What she had with Bett wasn’t going to be taken from her by Miriam Boudreaux or anyone else. She went into back to her office and gathered the day’s paperwork to put on Sharon’s desk in case she didn’t return. The business end of running a department had always been a chore she’d never cared much for. Today, it felt like a privilege.

  * * *

  When Rain came through the door, Bett scanned her face anxiously, trying to gauge her mood. She wasn’t smiling, but on the other hand she also wasn’t in the stockade, which had been Bett’s worst nightmare. She’d spent the day waiting on pins and needles when all she wanted was to be sitting near Rain in the large hearing room, ready to defend her at all costs. Bett would have taken leave from her cryptography duties to do that, but oddly, Whit had insisted that neither she nor Kathleen be present.

  Whit had called the night before, arguing their presence might give Miriam’s side an advantage and had gone on about how unpredictable Miriam could be. “Gale will worry more if you’re there. She’ll feel the need to protect you above all else, and I’ll feel the same about Kathleen.” Before Bett could explain that she intended to do whatever it took to keep Rain from being named or called on to testify, Whit had practically pleaded. “Please, Bett. Please promise me you won’t be there. Kat’s already agreed not to be. You’ve got to trust me on this.” The agitation in Whit’s voice was so unusual that Bett had gone along, but now, having spent the whole day waiting, she was about to burst.

  That Rain walked directly to her and held her close before she even took off her coat or hat indicated she was still deeply concerned. “Will you tell me about it?”
Bett asked, touching Rain’s face, confirming what she thought she’d seen that morning: There was a little wrinkle between Rain’s eyes where she did not recall seeing one before, as if her lover had spent too many hours trying to visualize events that were just out of sight.

  “Something is wrong with Miriam Boudreaux.”

  Bett laughed shortly. “Well, yes. She’s a lecher, a drunk, a liar, and a complete disgrace as an officer. Did you have anything else in mind?”

  Rain hung up her coat and put her hat on the hall table before leading Bett over to the couch, her unease apparent in her slightly stiff walk. Her voice was low, as if she was concerned about being overheard. “I mean there is something wrong with her physically. The hearing was delayed twice because she was too ill to even walk over. Then it was canceled when a doctor came and gave a report, indicating his concern that she might be contagious. I tried to go see her to determine the true extent of her condition, but they wouldn’t let me in.”

  Rain’s quiet revelation turned the knot in Bett’s stomach into a spike of anxiety, and she spoke more sharply than she’d intended. “You tried to go see someone who was deathly ill and might be contagious? Someone you don’t even like? Have you lost your mind?”

  Rain blinked, her only indication of distress, and Bett heard herself as Rain probably had, snapping like a shrew. It was just that she hated the way Rain was taking everything on herself. If—or probably when—Miriam Boudreaux singled out Rain in her testimony, she knew her beloved would refuse to answer any charges and she certainly wouldn’t give any other names, no matter what kind of deal was offered. There may have been many things she still didn’t know about Rain, but she was fully aware of her genuine commitment to the WAC and how badly an Other Than Honorable Discharge would hurt her. Bett was also certain Lieutenant Rains hadn’t attempted to risk her health just to save herself. This was for all of them. She bit her lip, trying to calm herself.

  “I’m sorry, Rain.” She took Rain’s hands in hers. “I’ve just been so worried. Please, tell me what the doctor said.”

  Rain’s mouth quirked with distaste. “He described Boudreaux’s symptoms in some detail. Apparently, she has the winter vomiting disease.”

  “Is that like the flu?” Many in her parents’ generation still talked of the terrible Spanish flu outbreak just after the last war. Surely this wasn’t the start of another pandemic.

  Rain shook her head. “I don’t think so. I saw Whit briefly and she said not to worry. I assume she meant the medical staff believed the disease would be under control before long.”

  “Maybe the stress of being questioned has made Boudreaux ill,” Bett mused. “Maybe her guilt finally got to her.”

  Rain made the little grunting sound that meant she disagreed. “I think you have to have a conscience to feel guilt.”

  Bett nodded, her fear easing slightly. “True. So…?”

  “I don’t know.” Rain stood and paced. “I only regret that this is not over.”

  “What did the hearing panel decide?” Bett asked.

  “Her lawyer asked for a postponement, arguing that she was obviously ill, and they granted it. She’ll be confined to the infirmary until she recovers.”

  “Indefinitely?” Bett’s voice rose with worry. How long could this nightmare go on?

  “They’re giving her two more days.” Rain had stopped pacing and was staring out the window. “They’ll reconvene again on Friday and see if there’s any change.”

  Bett rose and went to stand beside her lover, thinking that no matter what happened then, this would always be her place.

  * * *

  Whit was on her third day of sleeping on the cot in the corner of the medics’ office, waiting for Kathleen Hartley to realize what she was missing. They’d talked briefly when Kat gotten home from Bett’s house, and Whit could hear the genuine sadness in Kat’s voice when they’d said good night. She’d almost given in and gone home right then, but it was time for Kat to make the next move. When Captain Griggs had been in the picture, she’d been the one to put it on the line, promising Kat a future with her in it. Now she needed the same in return.

  And, she thought, in some ways it was just as well she was on the base full-time right now. She had other business to attend to, and it wouldn’t do to have to answer a lot of questions. Glancing at her watch, she headed over to the infirmary, timing her visit to coincide with the shift change, just as she’d done yesterday. Today would be much easier, but she wanted to establish a pattern and make sure her face was remembered—just in case things went south. Otherwise, she’d pass her presence off as professional curiosity. As she approached, Whit wasn’t surprised to see Gale Rains pacing outside the building. They saluted each other before Rains took a step closer, gesturing toward to the doors.

  “They won’t let me in or tell me anything,” she said, her voice quiet as usual, although frustration and concern were evident on her face.

  Whit smiled, trying to make sure their conversation appeared casual. “I told you not to worry, champ. I’ll take care of this battle and you go win the war for us, okay?”

  Rains frowned, but nodded slowly. “You’ll call me later?”

  Whit saluted again. “Yes, ma’am.” As soon as Rains turned away after returning the courtesy, she hurried up the steps. Her medical corps insignia got her past the guard at the door, and by the time she reached Miriam Boudreaux’s room, she was wearing a mask like several of the others, even though she knew she didn’t need it. She tapped on the door and entered without waiting for a response. A nurse she knew by sight was making notes on Boudreaux’s chart. Was her name Mattie? Mary? She looked over when Whit entered, and something like relief showed on her face.

  “I think your friend is doing much better today,” she said, rolling her eyes slightly. “I’ve been hearing all about life on the bayou.”

  Whit winced internally as she gave the nurse a sympathetic nod. She hadn’t wanted to call attention to a friendship with Boudreaux, but that was the assumption many staff members made for her regular visits and her obvious interest in the lieutenant’s case. At least this nurse wasn’t giving her disapproving glares like some of the others did. Slipping off her mask, she gave what she hoped was a genuine smile. “Bending the lady’s ear, were you, Lieutenant?”

  Boudreaux’s hoarse laugh turned into a cough, and she spit into a bowl on the bedside table. Leaning up on her elbow, she said, “Just reminiscing about good times, you know? Plus, having been at death’s door makes you appreciate the beauty in the world.” She winked at the nurse, who turned away, handing Whit the chart.

  Whit murmured her thanks as the woman left. Barely able to keep her temper, she spoke to Boudreaux through clenched her teeth as she pretended to study the diagnosis. “You’d better take it easy on the staff, unless you’re trying to make the colonel’s case for her.”

  Miriam laughed again. “No chance, pal. I’m feeling better and ready to take on the world.” She jabbed Whit in the ribs, making her jump. “Especially when you bring me another shot of that hooch later, huh?”

  Whit kept her smile to herself. “Yeah, I’ll do that,” she answered automatically before tapping a line on the chart. “But your stomach isn’t a hundred percent recovered and your heart rate is a bit high. Maybe you shouldn’t start drinking again.”

  “Who died and made you my doctor?” Boudreaux sneered. She struggled to a sitting position before pointing a threating finger at Whit. “I know what I’m doing, and we both know what I can do, so you just need to be a good little soldier and follow orders. You get me?”

  Whit put away the chart and raised her hands appeasingly. “Sure, I get you, Lieutenant. I’ll be back later, okay?”

  She made sure Miriam was lying back down before she let the door close all the way behind her. Throwing her mask into the nearest trash can, she ignored the sick feeling in her own gut, knowing it wasn’t from anything contagious. Unless disgust was infectious.

  Back at the medi
c’s office, her coworker Tammie handed her a sealed cream-colored envelope, raising an eyebrow as she spoke. “Your friend brought this by while you were out.”

  Whit’s heart jumped as she recognized Kathleen Hartley’s stationery. When they first began seeing each other, they used to send notes all the time. When had that stopped? She couldn’t remember. But for Kat to do this now, when any interactions between women on base could provoke suspicion and fear, must mean something serious. Trying to act casual, she simply nodded before stepping back over to her cot and carefully opening the flap. Kat’s proper penmanship matched the fancy paper, but the wording was surprising informal.

  Vic,

  Please join me for dinner tonight. 7:00? Or come earlier if you need anything. This is your home too, and I’m sorry if I ever made you feel otherwise. Just RSVP if declining.

  K

  Damn! Kat would ask her on the night she had to watch goddamned Miriam Boudreaux to make sure the dumb bitch didn’t kill herself with tainted whiskey. She decided to drop in on Kat in PR later and decline in person, once she’d invented a good excuse. Despite what she hoped for in their relationship, this was not the time for complete honesty.

  * * *

  “Hey,” her handsome lover said from the doorway, and Kat swallowed hard. Did she even have the right to use the words her lover in terms of Whit anymore? The nights she’d spent wandering their empty house and sleeping alone already seemed like weeks, and for much of that time she’d thought only about Whit. Or, more accurately, about how urgently she wanted to make amends, to get things between them back to how they used to be. On the rare occasions when Gale Rains came to her mind, she had only to replay the severely demanding tone in Rains’s voice from the other night when she and Bett had been drinking before dinner to know she’d never measure up. Obviously Bett had the self-esteem to absorb such criticism when warranted and the strength of character to redirect Gale’s expectations when the situation justified it, as she had after Kat had broken down in front of them. Kathleen knew she would never have either of those qualities.