Chain Reactions

by Lynn Ames

  Brooke squinted to see. “Can you enlarge that?”

  “We really need to get Wi-Fi in here. This would be a lot easier to read on an iPad or a laptop. I love Aunt Nora, but the lack of technology thing gets old fast.” Diana expanded the image on the screen so that Brooke could read it.

  “Razmmfrazzm fifty-year-old eyes. I still can’t see it.”

  Diana laughed and pulled the phone back. “It’s hell to get old, just ask me.”

  “Ha. I’ll always be older than you.”

  “Four years is nothing. Just the same, I’ll read it to you, Granny. ‘Although the history books credit several prominent male scientists with the advancements and achievements that led to the successful creation of the two atomic bombs that ended the war, several accomplished women physicists and chemists played vital roles in bringing the Manhattan Project to a favorable conclusion.

  ‘Perhaps most influential among these women were a pair of young, recently graduated doctorate students, Leona Woods Marshall Libby and Nora Lindstrom, both twenty-five.’”

  “Wow!” Brooke exclaimed.

  Diana continued reading. “‘At twenty-three, Libby was the youngest physicist to work on the Project. Her work at the Chicago Met Lab with Enrico Fermi, and later at Hanford, Washington, where she worked on reactor development, was critical to the successful creation of Fat Man, the plutonium bomb dropped on Nagasaki.’”

  “Get to the part about Nora already.”

  “I’m getting there.” Diana scrolled down the page to find the relevant section. “‘Nora Lindstrom, who graduated with a Ph.D. in Physics in 1943 from Columbia University, birthplace of the Manhattan Project, was a central figure in the separation and production of uranium isotopes at Oak Ridge, Tennessee. This endeavor allowed for the production of sufficient quantities of enriched Uranium-235 to fuel Little Boy, the first atomic bomb, dropped on Hiroshima, Japan on August 6, 1945.’”

  “Oh, my God. Our Nora was a superstar.”

  Diana absorbed the information and tried to square it with the woman she remembered from childhood, and the great-aunt she’d seen at the twilight of her life. “I don’t think she saw it that way.”

  Brooke sat down in front of the first pile and patted the floor next to her. “I guess we’ll find out.”

  Diana sat so that her thigh brushed against Brooke’s leg. That little bit of contact was at once comforting and enticing. She sifted through the records. Aunt Nora had ordered them chronologically from earliest on the bottom, to latest on the top. “I wish I was half as meticulous as she was,” Diana muttered.

  “I wish all of the doctors I worked with were as conscientious as Nora. She was one-of-a-kind and a joy to work with.”

  Brooke’s voice cracked on the last word, and Diana cupped her jaw. “We both lost so much when we lost her.”

  “The world lost so much when we lost her.”

  Diana temporarily got lost in Brooke’s eyes. They were bright with sadness and unshed tears. “You’re really very beautiful, you know.”

  Brooke glanced down as a blush crept up her neck and settled in her cheeks. “Nobody’s ever said that to me before. Nobody I cared about, anyway.”

  “Is that right? Well, they were all fools.” Diana leaned in and kissed Brooke softly. She didn’t intend for the kiss to linger. Now wasn’t the time or place for that. But neither could she help herself. Reluctantly, she broke the kiss. “All righty, then, let’s have a look at that first envelope.”

  Brooke picked up the envelope and opened it. The letter, dated March 23, 1943, was on official University of California, Berkeley, stationery, from Ernest Lawrence, Director of the Radiation Laboratory.

  “Who is that guy?” Diana asked.

  “You’re the one with the Google app at your fingertips. Look him up.”

  She once again pulled out her phone. The locked screen indicated she’d missed a call. “Oh.”

  “What is it?”

  “The mortuary called.” With a heavy heart, she unlocked the phone and replayed the voicemail.

  “What did they want?”

  “Aunt Nora’s ashes will be ready day after tomorrow. That was quick, wasn’t it?”

  “Three or four days is about normal.” Brooke slid her arm around Diana’s waist. “Do you want me to go with you?”

  She nodded. “If you don’t mind.” She sighed. “I haven’t even made any funeral arrangements for her.”

  “It’s okay. You’ve had a lot going on. You can’t be expected to do everything at once. How about if we talk through that and strategize over dinner tonight?”

  “Yeah. You’re right,” she agreed. “One hard task at a time. We should keep going here.” She stared at the phone. She knew she’d taken it out for a reason that wasn’t the missed call, but for the life of her, she couldn’t remember what the reason was.

  “Want me to do that?”

  “No. I’ll do it, if only I could remember what ‘it’ was.”

  “You were about to look up Ernest Lawrence.”

  “Right.” Diana plugged in the search parameters. “Here goes. ‘Ernest Lawrence won the Nobel Prize in Physics in 1938 for the invention and development of something called a cyclotron. When World War II began, Lawrence turned his attention to converting his cyclotron into a mass spectrometer called a Calutron that could separate uranium isotopes. He and his friend and colleague, J. Robert Oppenheimer, were instrumental in building the atomic bombs that ended the war.’”

  “It would seem that the Calutrons are where Dr. Lawrence and your Aunt Nora’s paths intersected.”

  “It would seem so. What does the letter say?”

  Brooke again picked up the faded sheets. The courier typeface made it easier to see the words on the page, and for that she was grateful.

  Dear Doctor Lindstrom (please excuse the presumption of title, as I know you will not officially receive your doctorate until May):

  My colleague and friend, Bob Oppenheimer, says he met you recently at Columbia and he has apprised me of your work in Puppin Hall. He tells me you have some interesting theories and a keen understanding with regard to uranium-isotope separation using electromagnetic fields. Bob also tells me you are a scientist of the highest integrity.

  As it happens, I have need of someone meeting your description, especially a female. While I cannot relate more details, I wonder if I might entice you, upon your graduation, to embark upon an important scientific assignment that will be of utmost importance in the war effort?

  I assure you that the pay will be more than you can imagine, and that the work will be tremendously satisfying. The assignment will require your relocation to a new, secret environment. All of that will be disclosed at a later date should you choose to accept this offer of employment.

  Time is of the essence, so if you could please respond to this letter as soon as practicable, I would be most appreciative.

  Thank you for your consideration, and congratulations on your upcoming graduation.

  Sincerely,

  Ernest O. Lawrence

  Brooke lowered the letter to her lap. “A Nobel-Prize-winning scientist, a man responsible for one of the greatest advancements in nuclear physics, personally recruited Nora. That’s amazing. Obviously, she said yes.”

  Diana nodded. “The secret location must’ve been Oak Ridge, which then was called the Clinton Engineer Works, or CEW.”

  “Should we read the next piece of correspondence? It’s what’s next in the pile.”

  “Sure.”

  Brooke returned the Lawrence letter to its envelope and carefully placed it back at the bottom of the stack. “We’re handling pieces of history here. Do you think we should put them in a protective case or something to preserve them?”

  “I think we should finish going through all of it and catalog what we have. Then we can decide what to do next.”

  “Okay.” Brooke gently teased open the next envelope. “It’s from The War Department—General Leslie Groves, Office of t
he Chief of Engineers in Washington.”

  “What in the world would the Army want with Aunt Nora?” Again, Diana pulled out her phone and tapped on the icon for the Google app.

  “You probably should just keep it out,” Brooke advised.

  “‘General Leslie Groves, Jr. was appointed to direct the Manhattan Project in September 1942, after successfully spearheading the construction of the nation’s largest office building, the Pentagon. Groves was in charge of every facet of the Project, including the three major atomic bomb sites, Los Alamos, New Mexico, Hanford, Washington, and Oak Ridge, Tennessee.’”

  “So, this General Groves was the big boss. Let’s see what he had to say to Nora,” Brooke said.

  “When is the letter dated?”

  “May 1, 1943.”

  “So, less than two months after the letter from Lawrence.”

  “Exactly.” Brooke angled the letter to catch the light from the lamp.

  Dear Dr. Lindstrom:

  E.O. Lawrence informs me that he wishes to add you to the team, and that you have agreed.

  Please present yourself at Pennsylvania Station in New York City on May 7, 1943. You will be met at the station, provided with a train ticket, and escorted to the train by my representative. A hired, private car will meet you at your designated stop and transport you the rest of the way to your final destination.

  This assignment carries with it the burden of absolute secrecy. You must tell no one of these instructions, nor convey any information whatsoever to anyone, including your parents and family members, for the duration. Your country is counting on you.

  Sincerely,

  General Leslie R. Groves

  “Wow. Kind of spooky, don’t you think?” Diana asked. “I mean, Aunt Nora has no idea where she’s going, can’t even tell her family she’s getting on a train, doesn’t know exactly what the job is she’s being asked to do…”

  “And, most amazing of all, she agrees to it!” Brooke finished. She returned the letter to its envelope and selected the next item.

  “What’s that?”

  “It’s a laminated ID badge. Nora’s picture is on the front, and a number, her name, signature, personal statistics, and issue date are on the back.”

  “Let me see.” She leaned over to get a better look. The maneuver unbalanced her and sent her head-first into Brooke’s lap. Warmth, borne of equal parts embarrassment and desire, coursed through her. If she put her hands down to right herself…

  Before she could decide on an appropriate escape, Brooke’s fingers were tangled in her hair.

  “This might be the single most unique approach anyone’s ever taken to get into my pants.”

  Brooke’s silken voice was so close to her ear that it vibrated with the sound.

  “Is it working?” Diana put her hands on Brooke’s thighs and hoisted herself up enough so that she could see her expression. Her eyes were heavy-lidded and intensely focused on Diana’s face. “If it isn’t working, please stop looking at me like that because I won’t be responsible for my next actions.”

  “It’s definitely working,” Brooke answered. She threaded a hand underneath Diana’s head and lowered herself so that their mouths met.

  Diana groaned and slipped her hand in between Brooke’s legs, cupping her over her jeans. “Can we…”

  “Do you want to…”

  They spoke at once.

  Brooke stilled Diana’s hand. “I think we’ve done enough research for now, don’t you?”

  “You want me to stop?”

  “What? No. No,” Brooke said, more softly. “Not in the way you mean. I’m suggesting that we set Nora’s stuff aside and adjourn to a more…conducive…setting.”

  “Oh. Um, absolutely.”

  “Diana?”

  “Yes?”

  “You’re going to have to take your hand out of my crotch if you expect me to be able to think and function long enough to close up shop here.”

  “Right.”

  “But don’t forget where you left off.”

  “Not a chance.”

  It didn’t take long for them to tidy up and return everything to the trunk and turn off the lamps. But it was long enough for Diana to develop a severe case of performance anxiety. What if Brooke found her wanting as a lover? What if they were incompatible in bed? What if…? They were at the bottom of the attic stairs.

  “Hey.” Brooke pulled her close so they were touching all along their lengths. “I’m scared too.”

  Diana’s jaw dropped open. “How did you…?”

  “Know you were frightened?” Brooke smiled and it crinkled the skin at the sides of her eyes.

  “Yeah.”

  “It’s written all over your pretty little face. We’ll be fine.” She leaned in and ran her tongue along Diana’s lips, teasing open her mouth.

  The combination of her tongue and their bodies fused together set Diana’s body on fire. At that moment, she would’ve followed Brooke anywhere.

  Brooke tugged on her hand and led them to the room Diana had chosen for herself. She backed Diana toward the bed.

  What had happened? Up until this point, Diana always had been the aggressor. She fought for control now but found that her body had other ideas.

  “I should… Oh. Oh.” She arched back as Brooke undid the button on her jeans and relieved her of her turtleneck and hoodie.

  “Is this okay?”

  “Yes,” she breathed. Brooke unclasped her bra and cupped her breasts. “Can I…? Will you…?” Diana quickly lost the ability to articulate.

  “Yes,” Brooke answered the unfinished question, releasing her long enough to strip to the waist.

  You’re gorgeous. It was the last coherent thought she had as she felt the cold air buffet her now naked body. The frigid air instantly was replaced with liquid heat as Brooke’s body covered hers and the softness of the mattress rose up to meet her back. “Brooke…”

  Brooke stretched languorously and opened her eyes. Diana was lying on her side, an arm carelessly thrown over Brooke’s midsection, her head pillowed against Brooke’s breast. The streetlights were on outside, and although she couldn’t be sure, Brooke estimated they’d been in bed for at least a couple of hours.

  She smiled, quite pleased with herself. You haven’t forgotten how to make love, after all. Thank God.

  “What are you smiling about?” Diana’s voice was husky from sleep.

  “Us. I’m smiling about us.”

  “You are, are you?” Diana lifted herself up onto an elbow.

  “I am.”

  “Well, you have plenty of reasons to congratulate yourself, I’ll give you that.” Diana grazed the fingers of her free hand over Brooke’s breast.

  “Stop that or we’ll never get out of bed.”

  “You say that like it’s a bad thing.”

  “It is if you’re starving like I am.” As if to punctuate the point, her stomach growled.

  “I’ll stop under one condition.”

  “What’s that?”

  “You promise me you’ll sleep naked with me tonight.”

  She made an exaggerated show of looking first at herself, and then at Diana. “I’m pretty sure that was implied by our current position. Or was that inferred? I always get those confused.”

  “So, that’s a yes?”

  “That’s an affirmative.”

  “Okay, then.” Diana dropped her hand and Brooke immediately missed the contact.

  “Diana?”

  “Mm?”

  “You were amazing.”

  “You too.” Diana leaned down and kissed her on the mouth.

  “Are you okay?” she asked.

  “We make mad, passionate love, and you want to know if I’m okay?”

  Brooke sat up and pulled the covers up with her. “Yeah.”

  “I’m perfect.”

  “Me too.” She kissed Diana briefly and slid out of bed. “How about if we get cleaned up and I’ll make us some dinner?”

  �
�Capital idea.” Diana paused.

  “What is it?”

  “One shower or two?”

  She laughed easily. “Two. One shower means it’ll be another three hours before we have dinner.”

  CHAPTER NINETEEN

  Diana stared openly at Brooke’s backside. From her current vantage point, sitting at the kitchen table, she had an unobstructed view while Brooke bent over and peered into the oven. “Whatever that is, it smells incredible.”

  “Garlic roasted new potatoes, marinated boneless, skinless chicken breasts, and sautéed green beans. Dinner should be ready in about ten minutes.”

  “That’s good because I don’t know about you, but I worked up an appetite.”

  Brooke spun around, her smile radiant and relaxed, and Diana’s heart tripped. She rose, closed the distance between them, and swept Brooke into her arms.

  “I know the situation is ridiculously complicated, the timing is unfortunate, and the logistics are the proverbial elephant in the living room, but I’m falling in love with you, Brooke Sheldon, and I feel powerless to stop that.”

  “Do you want to stop it?” Brooke’s voice was small and uncertain.

  She breathed in Brooke’s scent, felt the warmth of her body, and basked in the gentleness of her spirit. Something deep inside her shifted, as though her heart had cracked wide open. “No.”

  “No?” Brooke’s eyes searched her face, as if assessing the truth of the statement.

  “No,” she said emphatically. “I don’t know what it is about you, but you’re different than anyone I’ve ever known. With you, I feel so safe and free to be myself. With you, I feel valued and trusted in a way I don’t remember feeling before. But most of all, with you, I see a future I couldn’t imagine before.”

  She held her breath. She hadn’t intended to say so much. After all, they’d only known each other for less than a month, and they’d slept together exactly once. This wasn’t some romance novel. This was real life, and in real life, saying too much too soon left you open to getting your heart crushed.

  “Don’t.” Brooke’s voice cut through her thoughts.