by Keli Gwyn
Nothing felt right inside or out. Lethargy and listlessness stalked her. All her normal drive and verve had deserted her, and she went through the motions of her job automatically. The only thing that brought her any joy at all was the quilt project and even that had become burdensome.
She cleared empty plates and removed centerpieces to replace the tablecloths with new, snowy linen before the next train arrived. Sweat trickled between her shoulder blades. She’d asked a long-time Needles resident when the heat wave would break, and he’d laughed in her face. Maybe around Christmas. She shook her head, realizing Mrs. Gregory was still speaking.
“As soon as you finish setting the tables, go sit down and have some ice water with the others. We can’t have you passing out from the heat again.”
Though brusque, Mrs. Gregory’s voice held a hint of concern, another new facet. She’d been particularly solicitous ever since Doc Bates had returned the girls to the hotel with several admonishments to both them and Mrs. Gregory about all the staff taking care in the heat. He’d ordered Meghan and Natalie to bed for the rest of that day and the next, and to half days of work over the weekend before allowing them to return to normal duties.
Meghan let the batwing doors flop behind her as she carried an armful of table linens to the hamper in the corner of the kitchen. A thermometer beside the back door showed the temperature to be hovering near one hundred five. She resisted the urge to cover up the mercury and numbers. Knowing just how hot it was made things worse.
A mountain of tablecloths and napkins spilled over the edge of the hamper, and with a sigh, Meghan added hers, shoving at the pile to make it stay. Tugging, she pulled the balky cart away from the wall and wheeled it toward the laundry room. The only sound in the darkened laundry was the squeak of the wheels and her footsteps gritting on the tile. In deference to the heat, the laundry staff now only worked at night when the temperature dipped into the eighties.
When she returned with an empty cart, the dining room girls were seated around a plain work table in the kitchen drinking iced tea. Nobody talked much, conserving their energy for the customers to come. The kitchen staff continued to work around them, though without the customary bustle and noise. The chef had altered the menu to suit the temperatures, and most of the dishes were served cold.
Mrs. Gregory motioned to the empty chair beside herself. “Sit down. We’ve got awhile before the two-thirty rolls in.”
Plopping down, Meghan reached for a pitcher and glass. Ice clinked, and when she raised the glass to her lips, the cold tea tasted so good, she almost sighed.
The head waitress looked up from her clipboard. “I’m glad we have a few moments to visit before getting back to work. I wanted to ask you how your quilt project was coming along.”
The quilt. For the past week, ever since her disastrous trip into the desert and the fight with Caleb, Meghan had thrown herself into gathering names and embroidering the quilt. She’d even unbent so far as to allow Natalie to help with the sewing. It was as if she had to make a success of the quilt just to prove to herself that Caleb’s accusations had been wrong.
“Better now that more donations are rolling in. Mr. Claypool put up a notice in his store along with a sign-up sheet and collection box. And one of the schoolteachers sent home a letter to all the parents at the school. The children made it part of their back-to-school first week activities.” Their involvement in the project had greatly encouraged Meghan. She only needed a handful of new signatures and donations to fill the quilt.
“That’s good. As the chairperson of the Needles chapter of the Red Cross, I’m responsible to see that pledges are filled. I had my doubts as to your ability to finish the quilt and raise the funds you’ve promised, but you’ve made great progress. You’re sure you’ll have it done?”
“Yes, especially with Natalie’s help. Thank you for allowing her to work on it at the soda fountain when she doesn’t have any customers.” This concession had baffled and pleased Meghan when Mrs. Gregory had offered. “I know the money we raise is going for such a good cause. I haven’t heard from my brother in a while, but his last letter spoke so highly of the Red Cross workers over there. He said knowing that medical care is close by gives him and his comrades courage to face the enemy.”
Mrs. Gregory patted her pocket, crinkling some paper inside. “I finally heard from Jasper this week. He’s working with the quartermaster’s department on rations and supplies for the troops. Isn’t that wonderful?” The lines in her brow softened, and her lips quivered, losing a bit of their perpetual pucker.
“Wonderful.” And it was, for Mrs. Gregory. She knew her son wasn’t on the front lines, wasn’t in a trench somewhere waiting for the horrifying word to go “over the top.” Wondering if the next breath he took might bring with it mustard gas or phosgene. Wondering if he’d die by bullet or mortar shell or sickness.
Her heart constricted. No word had come from Lars in over a month. Mother’s last letter had been full of worry and bits of news she’d gathered from the papers, things she couldn’t talk about with Meghan’s father. Papa insisted that Lars would be fine. He wouldn’t hear any talk to the contrary. But Mama was worried about Papa, too. He’d grown quieter, withdrawn, sitting each evening brooding on the front porch until the mosquitoes drove him inside.
Mrs. Gregory leaned close and patted Meghan’s arm. “I have to say, you’re a different girl since you had your heat sickness. You’ve finally lost your impetuosity. You’ve become levelheaded and devoted to your work in a new way. I asked Miss Daviot if she could account for your new, sober outlook, but she said she didn’t know. I have an idea that you’ve finally come to your senses about that Caleb McBride. If that’s the case, I can only say how thankful I am. You’re much better off devoting your time and attention to your job and to the support of our soldiers. A man who won’t don the uniform and serve his country isn’t worthy of your notice.”
Every girl around the table listened in and didn’t even pretend not to. Heat that had nothing to do with the outside temperature sloshed through Meghan’s middle and made its way into her cheeks.
“You are over your fascination with Caleb McBride, aren’t you?” The head waitress’s eyes pinpointed Meghan.
Her skin prickled, and she didn’t imagine that several of the girls leaned in. Dryness invaded her mouth, and she raised her glass, both to drink and to stall for time. Images of Caleb flashed before her eyes, just as they did every night before she went to sleep. His handsome face, his wounded eyes, his gentle care of her.
She blinked, reminding herself to consider the masked look he’d worn when presented with a chicken feather, the anger and fear in his eyes when he’d yelled at her, and the almost loathing twist to his features when she’d slapped his face for kissing her.
And that kiss. The more she told herself to forget it, the more it came to mind. Powerful, earth-shaking, life-changing.
“Well?” Mrs. Gregory’s eyebrows drew together at Meghan’s hesitation.
She swallowed. “Yes, ma’am. I’m over Caleb McBride.”
Later that evening, Meghan leaned against the door and dragged her lace headband off her hair. Closing her eyes, she let her muscles relax.
“Another long shift?” Natalie’s rocker creaked.
Meghan dragged herself upright and tossed the headband on the dresser. “Seventy-five for supper. Everyone’s temper is frayed to the breaking point with the heat, and one of the girls dropped an entire tray of dirty dishes in the dining room right in the middle of service. China and silverware went everywhere.” She slipped out of her shoes and hiked her skirts to unclip her stockings. Rolling them off, she sighed, wiggling her toes against the tile floor. “I thought we’d never get it cleaned up. How about you? How’d the soda fountain go?”
“The usual rush just before the train left. Lots of soldiers. Seems they all wanted some ice cream to take with them. Mr. Stock even came in to help me when the line started snaking out the door.” She poked her
needle in and out of a quilt block, drawing the red embroidery thread along the penciled-in name. “Between times, I worked on the names. There’s only one quilt square left to embroider after this one.”
“Really?” A bit of tiredness slipped from Meghan’s muscles and she hurried over to inspect the block Natalie held up for her inspection.
“Yes. And it works out perfectly. The only names left are yours, mine, Doc Bates, and…one more.”
“I can’t.” Meghan’s lips grew stiff and her stomach muscles tightened. “I won’t.”
“You have to.”
“It will ruin the whole project. You’ve heard what people have said. If I put his name on it, no one will bid for it. I’ll fall well short of the thousand dollars I need for the ambulance, and I’ll be stuck with the quilt.”
“A month ago, you thought his name belonged on the quilt.”
“A month ago, I didn’t know what he was really like. A month ago, he was a brave hero who had rescued me from falling under a train, a fascinating, handsome man I thought was courageous.”
Natalie shook her head. “Nothing has changed. All those things are still true. If you could’ve seen him riding to our rescue out there in the desert and the tender way he cared for you, you’d know what a kind, gentle man he is.” She shrugged. “You can’t hold his harsh words against him. He was upset, scared that you might die. If you hadn’t run away from his house, you two might’ve been able to patch things up instead of letting things fester. Trust me, I know. Derek can fly off the handle quicker than you can wink, but his temper never lasts. I’m sure if you and Caleb could just talk things out, you’d change your mind about him.”
“That’s where you’re wrong. He isn’t brave and heroic. He’s a coward. He won’t stand up for himself, won’t give anyone a reason behind his actions, and he thinks I’m a brainless flutter-budget who leaps before she looks and always expects someone to rescue her. He thinks I don’t care about the consequences as long as I get my way, that I have no grasp of reality, and that I need a keeper.” Her ire rose as she recounted his accusations. “You should’ve heard him.”
A snort escaped Natalie’s lips. “I did. So did Dr. Bates and the Hualgas. We couldn’t help it. You were shouting at each other.”
Mortification spilled through her. She sagged onto her bed. They’d heard it all? No way was she asking if they’d heard the slap. Or if they guessed at the kiss. That stupid kiss. Why did her mind insist on returning to it, returning to the iron-hard grip of his hands on her arms, of the heat that had rushed through her—heat she would go to her grave vowing was anger and not attraction—or the way her heart had leaped like a wild thing in her chest when his lips had touched hers?
“Meghan, I don’t want you to take this the wrong way, but Caleb does have a point.”
“What?” Her spine stiffened.
“Wait. Before you get all defensive, hear me out.” Natalie let her handwork fall to her lap and folded her hands over her waist. “You do tend to leap before you look. You see every obstacle as a challenge to be conquered, and you don’t know the meaning of the phrase ‘can’t be done.’ Whether it’s raising a thousand dollars for an ambulance, becoming the best Harvey Girl on the line, or proving to Mrs. Gregory that you deserve to be promoted, you won’t back down. Sometimes this courage and drive are assets for you, and sometimes they lead you to behave heedlessly.” Her eyes were filled with warmth and friendship. “The only battle you’re not willing to fight anymore is for Caleb. What happened to proving the whole town wrong and standing with him?”
“Even someone as hardheaded and obstinate as I am can recognize a losing battle when she gets hit over the head with it. I was wrong about him. He won’t stand up for himself. I can’t respect that, and I won’t keep hurling myself against that wall.”
A bit of starch invaded Natalie’s tone, and she shoved the unfinished quilt block into her work bag. “You need to broaden your definition of courage. Caleb McBride isn’t weak and cowardly. Everything I know about him, everything I’ve seen, supports the idea that he’s a hardworking, honest, generous man who just wants to do his job and be left alone. If he chooses not to answer a foolish woman who tries to humiliate him in public, I think that shows remarkable self-restraint. He’s got the courage to remain true to whatever convictions or reasons he has for not enlisting. Dr. Bates believes in him, and so did that nice Army major who came through. Joshua tries not to show how much he likes and respects Caleb, but he can’t help it. The only people who take up against him are the women of Mrs. Gregory’s set who are too silly for words. And you. If you could see how you’ve drooped around here the past week like a battered ragdoll, you’d be ashamed of yourself.”
Meghan scowled. “I have not drooped around. I’ve come to my senses. I can’t accomplish my goals when I’m distracted by the likes of Caleb McBride. People tried to warn me about him, but I was too headstrong to listen. You and Caleb have accused me of being impetuous, but when I finally listen to reason and decide to be sensible, you say I’m being silly.”
“I think you’re being unfair to Caleb and to yourself, and you won’t be happy until you resolve your differences.” She stood up and pressed her hands to the small of her back, arching and stretching. Her uniform lay across the bed, and she only wore her shift, which stretched tight across her middle.
Meghan’s eyes widened. “Natalie?”
“What?”
She pointed to her roommate’s waist, clearly outlined by the arch of her back. A suspicious bump pressed against the fabric. “Are you…?” She blinked. “Is that…?”
Natalie glanced down, and her back relaxed. Her hands went to her belly. Sinking down into the rocker, with pink suffusing her face, she let her head fall back, closing her eyes.
Mind chaotic, Meghan knelt beside the chair. “Natalie Daviot, are you pregnant?” Her voice came out with a low intensity that made the air between them vibrate. She shook Natalie’s arm. “Are you?”
Her lips pressed together, and her eyelashes fell. A swallow lurched her throat. “Yes.”
“Oh, Natalie.” Meghan threw her arms around her and hugged her close. Natalie held herself stiffly. “That’s wonderful.” She pulled back to study Natalie’s crumpled face. “Isn’t it?”
“How can you say that? With Derek in France and my mother-in-law ill? I’m already hiding the fact that I’m married. This”—she pointed to her stomach—“isn’t something I can hide forever. I’ll be fired, sent home, and not only will I not have the money from this job, but I won’t be able to get another job, and I’ll have a baby to support.” Her lips trembled, and a heavy sigh heaved out of her chest. “This baby is a disaster.”
Meghan grabbed Natalie’s hands and shook them. “Stop it. My mama says babies are a blessing, a gift from God.” At Natalie’s rolled eyes, Meghan tried again. “I know it won’t be easy, but if you think of this baby as a little part of Derek…” She stopped. If Derek didn’t come home, Natalie would at least have his son or daughter. “You’re going to be a wonderful mother, and Derek will be so happy when he finds out. Just imagine how proud he’s going to be when he holds his child for the first time.”
For a moment, a soft, maternal glow invaded Natalie’s eyes, but the clouds soon re-gathered there. “But what about Mrs. Gregory? What about my job?”
Meghan’s mind raced. “I’m not saying it will be easy, but you’ve managed so far, and I’ll help you. With your uniform on, nobody would guess. I only noticed because you’re in your shift. How far along are you, and how much time do you think we have before it becomes really obvious?”
Natalie’s blush intensified. “It must’ve happened right before Derek shipped out. If I had known about the baby, I never would’ve applied for this job. I’m about four months along.”
Meghan’s mind whirled. “Good, then we have some time. Our contracts with the company end in mid-November. If we can keep it to ourselves until then, you can finish out your contract, get your b
onus for working through a Needles summer, and go home to your family. By that time, maybe Derek will be home.”
“You’re still a dreamer. The war won’t end so soon.”
“Well, whichever comes first, the end of the war or the end of our contracts, we’ll do our level-best to keep the baby a secret.”
Chapter 13
Doc Bates leaned back in his office chair and let the newspaper fall to his desk. Hundreds of soldiers and civilians falling prey to the Spanish Lady, the worst strain of influenza the world had ever seen. Though officials were reluctant to call it such, he had no qualms about naming it an epidemic. From what he could gather in the papers, the big cities were being hit the hardest, Philadelphia, Boston, New York, Minneapolis, but the illness had also spread into rural areas. Nobody was safe.
He picked up the Red Cross literature he’d received that day. Encourage folks to stay home, not to congregate together in large groups, to wear masks, disinfect, clean, wash their hands often. Mrs. Gregory had contacted him about speaking at the next Red Cross meeting. A rueful chuckle escaped his lips. He’d be speaking at a gathering, flying in the face of his own recommendation to steer clear of large groups. Still, word needed to get out somehow, and this was the best way.
A train whistle pierced the evening air. He wiped his forehead with his handkerchief and shrugged out of his waistcoat. Flicking on the desk lamp against the growing dusk, he checked the clock. Those poor folks, trapped on the train in this swelter, and the poor Harvey Girls serving them a meal. Who had an appetite in this kind of heat? And who wanted to be rushed through a meal in order to keep to the AT&SF schedule?
But the train waited for no one.
He hoped Natalie and Meghan were taking it a bit easier. It had been a week since their car broke down in the desert. Once a person had fallen prey to heatstroke, one tended to always have a sensitivity to the heat. Natalie especially worried him. At Caleb’s house, she’d been too quick to get up and dressed, and he’d surmised she feared someone discovering her secret. By her calculations, she was about four months along in her pregnancy, and slight as she was, her waist must be thickening. Bounding out of bed and back to her normal routine too quickly could spell disaster. He’d have to call in there and see about scheduling another appointment so he could keep a close eye on her.