by Alexa Kang
"Did I? How so?"
"You almost made me uncomfortable dancing with you."
He came closer to her, peeking at her face with a teasing smile as if searching for what she really thought. "Maybe I wasn't the problem. Maybe you felt uncomfortable because you found me irresistible."
He expected her to react with indignity, but she didn't. Without showing any emotion, she stared back at him. "Don't kid yourself. You're not the best looking man I've ever seen."
"Who is, then? Lieutenant Ardley?"
Tessa thought for a moment, then said, "My father."
"Your father! And you are your father's daughter. Isn't that an indirect way to say that you think you are very good looking yourself?" He cornered her against the table in the middle of the room, imposing himself on her but without touching her. "So what should two very good-looking people do when they find themselves alone with each other?"
"You shouldn't flirt with a girl who already has a boyfriend, especially when her boyfriend is your friend."
"Is that right? Okay, then now you know what a cad I really am."
Unimpressed, she pushed him lightly and moved away. "No you're not. You're only pretending to be one." She picked up the list and continued collecting medical supplies for him.
"Really? Why do you think that? Is it because you think there's a good guy underneath? Perhaps you'll uncover my good soul and change me into a better man?" He took a step closer to her again. "Would you like to try? I better warn you now, I'm a real cad. A cad of the worst kind."
Still unmoved, she said. "Don't you worry about me. I have no interest in making you a better man or a worse man. You're not my problem."
Indifference. He had wanted her to be sympathetic or outraged. He wanted to find evidence that he could elicit from her some kind of feelings for him, but all she was giving him was indifference. Her indifference stung like a sharp pinch. "Never said I was your problem." He retracted from her. His voice changed from playful to cold. "I don't care about anyone, so no one's ever cared about me. That's all right. I'm used to it."
"Fine," Tessa said. "If that's the way you want it. But you're still not a cad. You're only pretending to be one. I've seen a lot of actors, and I'm not fooled." She handed him a box filled with the supplies. "So why put on an act, Jesse Garland?" She stared at him. He felt like she was seeing right through him again.
Instead of answering her, he said, "Thanks for the supplies." He took the box and walked out.
What just happened? He thought as he walked away from the hospital. Always, he had been the one who held the upper hand and wreaked emotional rollercoasters on women. How did the tables get turned? What was her hold over him?
Why couldn't he stop thinking about her?
He did not like this situation. Not in the least.
Even after two years in Chicago, Thanksgiving's Day still felt like a foreign holiday to Tessa. But this time, she received something for which she was truly thankful, a letter from her father. It was the first time he had written to her since her deployment.
November 5, 1943
My dear daughter,
My heart felt like a rock—a boulder that had sunk into the sea when we received the telegram from William and Sophia telling us that you had left America to become an army nurse overseas. I felt like the ground I stood on had crumbled and I was falling into a deep abyss. I couldn't understand what happened. My immediate reaction was to blame everyone in sight. How could William have let this happen? We left you in his care. We trusted him. Who is this boy Anthony? What has he done to cloud your mind and lure you into this horrifyingly dangerous situation? I was even angry at your mother, wrongly transferring my anger onto her for having a family so utterly incompetent that a young girl could deceive them and get away from them. But mostly, I was angry at myself. How could I have sent you away from us for so long that I could no longer be by your side to protect you, to watch over you and to keep you safe?
Of all things, my family is what I cherish the most. I live in a world of constant make-believe. You and your mother are the two things that are real. My family is all that matters to me, and you are the most precious thing in my life. When you were born, I vowed that I would be a good father. Every day since, I have asked myself if I have succeeded. And now, I think I might have failed. Should I have sent you away? Your mother and I thought it was for the best for your safety. But did we—did I—make the right decision? If I had insisted on keeping you in London, could I have prevented setting into motion the chain of events that would ultimately lead you to the epicentre of danger? Perhaps everything would have been different had we made different choices.
Now, you have made your own choice to go after someone you say you love. As much as I wish I could have held you back, I could not help but think of the chances your mother and I took when we were young. Had she held on to a life of comfort and security under the protective sphere of the Ardleys, or had I held on to the promise of a flourishing career by remaining with that actress, you would not have been in my life today. The idea of not having you in my life is enough to drown me in an endless sea of regret. There is nothing in the world more important to me than you. Looking back, I am glad your mother and I followed our hearts and took our chances, for in doing so, we brought you into this world.
When I think of this, I realise that what I really want to tell you is this: If you are sure of the person you love, then do not let him go no matter what. Do not stand by and let happiness slip away from you.
My advice to you does not absolve me from failing at my responsibility as your father. I still wish I could have saved you from the dangerous path you have chosen. But with the situation being irreversible, I want you to know that I love you. I am always behind you in the decisions that you make.
Write to us. Your mother wants to hear from you, and so do I.
— Love, Father
P.S. I do not promise that I won't make mincemeat out of this Anthony boy if I ever see him.
She finished reading and folded the letter into her bag of belongings along with all the other letters she had received since she arrived in Italy. Of all the people back in London and Chicago, her father was the one she worried about the most. He had always been protective of her. It had been difficult for him when he sent her away. When he didn't write to her for weeks, she knew the news of her deployment must have caused him a world of anguish. Knowing her father had accepted the situation had put her mind at ease.
She wished she didn't have to leave everyone at home in such a state of worry. Nonetheless, being here now, she was more certain than ever she had made the right choice. She was needed here more than anywhere else. This was where she could answer soldiers' wailing cries to be saved and hospitals' desperate calls for help. Here, she had the satisfaction of laughing in the face of the war. She could put up a resistance against the war and wrestle back what it tried to take away. However insignificant her resistance was, the war no longer dictated her life. She could do something to fight back.
Most of all, she was with Anthony again. By his side was exactly where she belonged.
Thankfully, they were together.
She closed her bag and left her quarters to join the army's Thanksgiving dinner. Entering the mess hall, she searched for Anthony among the swarm of people. Even though the kitchen staff had expanded the dining areas and arranged the seating schedule to stagger the number of people arriving, the place was still packed with servicemen from every division, department, and unit, and she could barely squeeze past the entrance. No one followed the seating schedule. Everyone wanted to eat and join in the fun. Only the unfortunate souls stuck on missions up north outside of the city would miss this jubilant night.
"Tessa!" Anthony had spotted her before she could find him.
"Anthony!"
"Over here. We saved a seat for you." He grabbed her hand and led her to the food line. The spread of turkeys, mashed potatoes, cranberry sauce, green beans, and bread puddin
gs put everyone in the best mood they had felt in months even though most of the food had come from cans. There were even pumpkin pies.
They filled their plates and joined Anthony's friends at the officers' table. She watched as he ate and laughed with the others, amused by how little it took to make him this happy.
How she loved him for it. If only their lives and the world could be this simple. She touched him on the shoulder. "How'd you like the food?"
"Best damn Thanksgiving dinner ever!" he said. Out of everyone's sight under the table, he put his hand on her knee and held it there while they ate.
She loved it. She loved the feeling when he touched her. Everything felt as sweet and tangy as the cranberry sauce.
"I got a V-Mail from Mother and Father this morning." He finished the last bite of his turkey. "They said they got your telegram about having found me."
"Oh good. I hope they've gotten over the shock of my leaving."
"Let's write them together after dinner."
"Okay," Tessa said. "We'll tell them all about the turkey from the can..."
"And the pre-dinner football game. Our boys won. We smoked the guys from Forty-Fifth."
"And we had pumpkin pies!"
"We can send a V-Mail together to your parents too if you want."
"About that..." She wondered, trying to envision her father's reaction. "Maybe if you start your letter writing campaign now, my father will stop being mad at you when the time comes for you to meet him."
"Meet your father? That sounds scary."
"Scarier than fighting the war?
"For sure!"
She touched his arm. As she looked into his eyes, she knew he had the same thoughts as she did. Tonight, they had so much to be thankful for. First, Anthony was not away on a mission and they could celebrate together. Even better, they were with each other again, not separated across the world. Most importantly, he was safe and alive. Tonight was a real Thanksgiving for both of them, with all the right food, the right atmosphere, and with each other.
X
Part Ten - Jalousie
34
Fran Milton never thought she would serve in the military again after the Great War. Like last time, she signed up the instant America geared up for war. After all, someone had to step up and take responsibility. She was all about responsibility.
Unfortunately, responsibility was not a concept most people generally valued, or even understood. Take her family for instance. Her parents never valued anything that she did. She cooked the meals. She cleaned the house. When they couldn't pay the rent, she fended off the landlord until money came in. When her father got drunk, which happened often, she was the one to fetch him from the bars or the streets and take him home when he passed out in his drunken stupor. Did any of that matter? No. Her father was a drunk and her mother was a moron. All they cared about was Lizzie, her younger sister. It was always Lizzie this and Lizzie that. Everything that was worth anything went to Lizzie. Lizzie was so pretty. Lizzie was going to marry someone rich and save them all. Lizzie would make them all rich.
Lizzie herself was the worst. That wench. She thought she was God's gift to the earth.
Even after all these years, Fran still remembered the condescending way Lizzie looked at her.
"Pity," that wench said when Fran came into her room to bring her the new dress their mother had bought for her. "If you weren't such a bug-eyed Betty, you could find yourself a rich beau too."
Fran watched Lizzie's mouth move as she spoke. That vile red lipstick. The wench had no idea how nasty it made her look. What did that paramour of hers see in her? Men. They were all such fools. So easily deceived by the frivolous and superficial. Fran dumped the dress on Lizzie's bed and walked out.
They barely had enough money for food. This dress had cost a fortune. It was such a useless waste of money. That wench better deliver. If that fool she had her eye on didn't marry her in the end, they would lose all their investments on all those dresses and accessories she kept buying.
No matter. She had one thing over Lizzie. She was responsible. Unlike all of them, she knew how to be prepared and be responsible, even if these fools didn't know well enough to appreciate her for it. What use was Lizzie anyway? Lizzie was nothing but a pretty face. Lizzie didn't know how to do anything. If disaster ever struck, that dumb Dora would be nothing but a pathetic baggage. She, Fran, on the other hand, knew how to put things in order. She was saving these imbecile parents of hers every day and they didn't even know it.
It wasn't as if she had a choice anyway. Her mother, having no faith in her to find a rich husband for a meal ticket like Lizzie, started to fuss about her being a burden. Her mother only hinted at first, but soon enough, the hint became an outright question. How much longer would she remain living at home? Would she find somebody, anybody, to marry and get out of their house?
Marry she would not, but get out of the house she would. She looked around and took a job as a nurse. The pay wasn't high, but it sustained her. Besides, she was perfect for the job. Being a nurse was all about responsibility, and she was responsible.
A chance to show her true worth came when the Great War broke out and the military put out a call for volunteers to serve as military nurses. She jumped at the chance while her peers hesitated and refused. When the time came to do what must be done, she was the only one who stepped up to the plate. She alone did the honorable thing while the rest shirked their duties just when they were most needed.
Life in the military suited her fine. The order and discipline, she welcomed. The horror? No matter. She'd take looking at mangled bodies any day over that phony facade of the Lizzies of this world. When people are all maimed and torn, no one cared about her looks. They just wanted her to save them.
When the Great War ended, she returned to work in civilian hospitals. The years passed. Nothing changed. The hospital was the only place that made the most use of her commitment to responsibility. She had already accepted the fact that the hospital was where she would spend the rest of her life.
Then war broke out again in Europe and rumors ran rampant that the United States was mobilizing, and medical staff would be needed to go overseas again.
She answered the first call of duty a full two years before Pearl Harbor. The war would get worse. She expected it. She always planned for the worst so she could be prepared. It was necessary that she volunteer as early as possible. Mobilizing the medical units required extensive organization and preparation. She had done this before. She had a duty to put her experience to use when needed.
Everything had gone according to plan and exactly as she anticipated, except for Aaron Haley.
An exceptionally skilled surgeon, he was someone who took responsibility as seriously as she did. Just like her, he had dedicated his entire life to his medical career. The way she saw it, someone as gifted as Haley had a duty to society to maximize the use of his expertise. She suspected he knew that. Why else was he still unmarried? His contributions to the world would be greater if he focused on his career rather than his own personal life. They had both given their all and sacrificed for the greater good, unlike the leeches and Lizzies of this world.
In the two years they had worked together, she had grown fond of him. He was not like the other doctors. Before Aaron Haley, she had always had uneasy relationships with the doctors she worked with. No matter how professional she was and how well she did her job, they often underappreciated her. They let their biases and favoritisms get in the way. They praised the nurses they liked while they overlooked her. It was not that she wanted public recognition. She could care less. But when others got credit for things that she had done, that bothered her, and it happened a lot because on principle, she refused to play nice.
Aaron Haley was the exception. He respected her work. When others didn't notice all that she had done for the unit, he publicly credited her for it. He was never swayed by the pretty young things courting his favor. There were many such girls. They were
shameless! But he gave credit where credit was due. On her part, she did her best to keep these troublemakers away from him so that they wouldn't interfere with his work.
Since she and Haley had met working together at the Army Medical Corps, they had settled into a good, cordial work routine. Barring emergencies, they would meet for breakfast every day to discuss the allocation of work to people under their management and to make sure they had the pulse of every part of their medical unit's operations. In the evening, when the workday was over, they would have their evening tea and go over any problems that had come up. They would figure out the solutions before the problems became disasters. Once a week, they would meet to discuss logistics and equipment deliveries.
She valued their relationship. It was one that she intended to maintain when this war was over. She wouldn't mind growing old this way. Two dedicated professionals, working as a united front for a common cause. Their lives could be fulfilled that way.
And if he ever decided he wanted more...
If he ever decided that he wanted more, how could it not be her? His work was the most important thing in the world to him. That was obvious. Who else had the skills, the experience, and the knowledge to help him further his work? They were both professionals in the science field, not creatures of emotions, or else they wouldn't have remained single for this long. She was the only one qualified to support him for the rest of his life's purpose. There was no question about it.
"Colonel, are you listening? You seem distracted," Fran asked Aaron. She had just given him a full rundown of the names of the patients on the list to be sent home. Arranging for transportation and coordinating with the navy to repatriate veterans had been a challenge lately. Something else in other divisions always took priority over the hospital's needs.
"Ah, yes, you were saying?" Aaron said, snapping back to attention. This meeting had dragged on for too long and he had tuned out for a bit. He had another project he was anxious to get to which was sitting in his desk drawer, but he knew it was important to Milton that they do their jobs properly and adhere to their work routine.