by Lisa Bingham
“I now pronounce you husband and wife,” the chaplain said with a smile.
Gilhouley needed no further encouragement. He swooped Rosemary into a searing kiss that left little doubt to his feelings for her. And she responded with equal ardor, needing to assure herself that this moment had actually occurred.
But then, as soon as they parted, reality intruded with a shell exploding so close that the earth shuddered and shrapnel fell like rain.
Rosemary quickly looked around, ensuring that the hospital hadn’t been hit. The chaplain offered them a quick salute, then strode back to the men in the wards. With the nurses gone, every available man had been put to work.
“I’ve got to be in Mariveles by 0100,” she told Gilhouley breathlessly.
“Don’t worry. We’ll get you there. I’ve got a truck being loaded with equipment and supplies already headed in that direction. That’s how I was able to get here.” He glanced at his watch. “Petey will be meeting us here at 2220. Kilgore and Baptiste are already in Mariveles with the rest of our cargo.”
“And Berman?”
Gilhouley shook his head, his eyes taking on a shadow that she recognized as grief.
“I’m sorry,” she whispered, squeezing his hand.
Gilhouley turned to John. “Gather your things and whatever Glory Bee and the baby might need, then rendezvous in the main clearing at 2220. We’ll leave at 2230.”
“We’re taking Glory Bee and the baby with us.” Rosemary hadn’t uttered it as a question, but Gilhouley nodded all the same.
“She’s well enough to travel?” he asked.
Rosemary said, “She can’t stay here.”
“I know.”
As John disappeared toward the surgical hut to be with his wife and child, Rosemary melted into Gilhouley’s embrace again, breathing deeply of the smells of man and sweat. She wrapped her arms around him, whispering, “I want to make love to you.”
“I know.” His whisper ached no less than her own.
“But I can’t go with you, knowing that there are soldiers—”
He stopped her with a finger to her lips. “I know. Where are your things?”
She pointed to the row of nurse’s tents. “Third one on the left. My duffel’s on my bunk.”
“Are you all packed?”
“Uh-huh.”
“Then go do whatever you need to do. I’ll come get you when it’s time.”
Rosemary reluctantly backed away, holding onto his hand until the last possible moment, then rushed to one of the surgical huts as an ambulance careened into the complex. Within minutes, she was back to the task that had become so familiar to her that, at times, she would shake herself, wondering if the entire encounter with Gilhouley and their impromptu wedding had been a dream.
But then, she would touch the heavy ring that she’d removed from her finger and threaded onto a chain around her neck.
It was real. Her marriage was real.
Gilhouley was out there, somewhere close.
And then, although it felt like only a matter of moments, she looked up to find him beckoning to her from the doorway. She paused, her hands bloody as she attempted to staunch the flow coming from a soldier’s gut. Seeing the direction of her gaze, Dr. Grimm jerked his head toward the door.
“You’d better catch your ride, Major.”
“But—”
Dr. Grimm eyed her sadly from above the edge of his mask. “We’ll be all right. You go. Go while you can.”
Slowly, she straightened, and after one more moment’s hesitation, she stripped off her gloves.
“It has been a pleasure working with you, Dr. Grimm.”
“And with you, Mrs. Gilhouley.”
Rosemary blinked against the tears that suddenly gathered in her eyes. There would be no evacuation for Dr. Grimm or any of the other men she’d worked with. They would stay here, wait for the line to fail and the inevitable arrival of the Japanese.
Would she ever see any of them again?
“Go on, now. And good luck to you, Major.”
“Good luck to you as well, Dr. Grimm.”
Then, knowing that if she stayed even an instant longer, she wouldn’t be able to leave at all, Rosemary dodged toward the door and Gilhouley.
• • •
Rosemary wasn’t sure how Gilhouley had managed to exchange a Jeep for truck, but somehow, being The Great Gilhouley, he’d done it. Within minutes, Glory Bee and the baby were settled into the back on a stretcher. John and Petey squeezed in beside her amongst the crates of medical supplies, ammunition, and duffels that had been stacked in the back. Then, because it was the only privacy that they would be given as a newly married couple, they all insisted that Rosemary ride up front with Gilhouley.
“I’ll be fine,” Glory Bee said sleepily. “The baby and I are going to take a nap for most of the journey. John will bang on the side of the truck if we need anything.”
“You’re sure?”
“Go on.”
Climbing into the cab, Rosemary slid across the seat, allowing Petey to stow her own duffle and Gilhouley’s pack beside them. After he’d jumped into the back and fastened the tailgate, Gilhouley threw the truck into gear.
He moved as carefully as he could on the rutted track, taking his time to make the journey as comfortable as possible for Glory Bee. But it soon became evident that their trip was not going to be completed as quickly as they’d planned. Once they reached the main road, the lane was choked with the chaos of a fleeing army. Tanks and transports vied for space with refugees and foot soldiers, carabao and carts. The ditches on either side were clogged with discarded ammunition crates, furniture, household goods. The wounded who could walk were bypassing the hospital and continuing on to the coast and Rosemary’s heart broke when she saw those who were too exhausted to continue, sitting in the dust and confusion trying to catch their breath.
As if the melee wasn’t enough to contend with, shells exploded in the forest around them as the Japanese sought to cut off their last avenue of escape. The truck soon slowed to a crawling pace. Rosemary was sure that if she were to get out and walk, she could move faster, but she didn’t. She clung to Gilhouley’s thigh, appalled by the desperation around her.
“Can’t we let some of those men come with us?”
Gilhouley shook his head. “It took some talking to get permission to take you and Glory Bee. We’re carrying…sensitive cargo.”
She didn’t bother asking. She knew he wouldn’t tell her.
“How long,” she whispered. “How long before Bataan is overrun?”
Gilhouley’s gaze was quiet and sad in the gathering darkness. When he answered her, his voice was husky.
“A day. Maybe two.”
Rosemary shuddered. “Are you coming with us to Corregidor?”
He was a long time answering. Releasing the gear shift for a moment, he wove their fingers together. “Those aren’t my orders.”
She refused to become hysterical, refused to leech his strength in any way.
He wrapped his arm around her shoulders, pulling her close. “We can’t control tomorrow or the next day or the next. But we can decide now what we’re going to do after the war is over. I’m thinking six kids, maybe eight.”
The sound that burst from her throat was half laugh, half sob. “Riley, I’m forty years old!”
“So we’ll settle on three. We can adopt them if you’re a granny by the time I get back.”
She poked him in the ribs and he laughed.
“In the meantime, when you get back to the States, I want you to scout out a little piece of property for us. Doesn’t matter where. I figure I can get a job in radio or sales when I get back. Or maybe construction. I’ve always liked building things with my hands. I know my dad would probably give me a job if I wanted to take over his business, but I don’t want that. I want to build a life for myself.”
She rested her head on his shoulder, her palm on the spot above his heart.
“If
you want, you could get us a place close to your folks. They’d like that, I’m sure. You said they wanted you to come home. That way you’d have someone with you if…until I get back.”
Rosemary bit her lip, silent tears spilling over her cheeks.
“Try to find a place close—but not too close. I don’t want to be living with the in-laws. And we need a dog. I’d really like a dog. Not one of those yappy things. I want a real dog with shaggy fur and a tail that never stops wagging.”
Since she couldn’t speak, she nodded against him. “You could work at a hospital in town, or maybe in a doctor’s office if you wanted. Or you could stay home and be a housewife, I don’t care. Whatever makes you happy. I want you to be happy, Rosemary.”
She looked up at him then, and saw that his own cheeks were wet with tears.
“You make me happy, Gilhouley.”
• • •
Despite the unexpected delays they’d made in getting to Mariveles, they arrived in plenty of time to rendezvous with the other nurses. But when Gilhouley brought the truck to a halt at the docks, the quay was further evidence of the devastation of war. What few ships that still remained close to the dock were being scuttled and distant explosions added to the din as ammunition dumps were set ablaze.
“Stay here,” Gilhouley said to Rosemary as he climbed out of the truck. They were at the spot where Rosemary was supposed to meet the other nurses, but there wasn’t a woman in sight.
Petey ran up to him, his rifle at the ready.
“Go see if anyone at the pier knows where the nurses are gathering,” Gilhouley said as he strode around to the back of the truck. “Everyone okay back here?”
Glory Bee had been propped into a sitting position and now rested against John, the baby held tightly in her arms. The infant wailed at the noise, its cries barely heard above the din.
“We’re fine,” Glory Bee said. It was clear that she was terrified, but she pasted a smile on her lips.
Petey’s boots scrabbled against the rocks and he ran back toward him.
“They’re gone,” he gasped.
“Gone? What do you mean, gone?” Gilhouley said slowly.
“I mean, they took them over to Corregidor in launches about two hours ago when things got too hot on the docks. The sub never made it through the blockade, so it’s hanging back in open waters.”
“Shit! Any hope of getting a boat over to Corregidor?”
“I don’t know, sir. Anything that’s still afloat has either left or is otherwise engaged.”
Gilhouley thought quickly, then gestured to Petey. “Get in the truck.”
“Sir?”
“Get in the truck. There’s been a change in plans.”
He ran back to the cab and climbed in.
“Where is everyone?” Rosemary asked, alarmed.
“Gone. They left hours ago.”
Her face drained of color. “What should I do?”
“Don’t worry, I’ll notify your superiors about what happened.”
“But—”
He ground the truck into gear and lurched forward. “We’ll get you and Glory Bee off the island, Rosemary. You’re going to have to take the scenic route, is all.”
• • •
Glory Bee waited in the truck, the baby to her breast, as a heated discussion took place on the other side of the canvas. The words were too low for her to make out, but it was clear from the tones and the urgency that the men were trying to find a way for them to get off the island.
Finally, John reappeared.
“Come one, sweetheart. Time to go.”
She moved the baby away from her nipple, frowning when Hope made a whimper of distress. But after covering herself, she soothed the baby back to sleep.
After she’d managed to scoot toward the tailgate, John scooped her into his arms and carried her through the trees.
“Where are we going?” she asked.
But at that moment, John broke through the foliage and she saw a familiar plane, a familiar grizzled pilot.
Napoli grinned at her. “How’s my favorite redhead?” he boomed.
Glory Bee laughed. “There are two of us now, Napoli.”
“Let me see.”
John paused long enough for Napoli to peer down into the tiny face swathed in blankets.
“She’s a little thing, isn’t she?”
Glory Bee nodded in pride.
“Oh, but she’s a beauty. What’s her name?”
“Hope. Hope Rosemary Macklin.”
For a moment, his features softened, and she thought his eyes took on an added sheen before he blinked it away.
“You’ve named her well.” He made a sweeping gesture with his hand. “Let’s get you aboard. We need to get going now the sun’s down.”
Glory Bee looked past him to where Petey and Gilhouley were feverishly unscrewing the airplane’s seats and throwing them onto the beach.
“What are they doing?” she whispered to John.
“Making room for you and Rosemary. We’ve got to get the weight of the plane down as much as possible so that we don’t have to leave very much behind.”
As soon as the plane had been stripped of everything that wasn’t essential to the voyage, Glory Bee was carried to a soft pallet that had been formed of blankets and their packs. Then the cargo hold had been stuffed with more crates and bags until there was barely any room at all to sit. Finally, John climbed in, then Baptiste.
Looking out the window, Glory Bee saw Rosemary and Gilhouley clinging to one another. A little way from them, Petey and Kilgore looked on, their expressions sad.
“What’s the matter? Why don’t they get in?”
“They aren’t coming with us,” John said lowly.
Glory Bee looked at him in horror. “Why not?”
“They were never coming with us. They have orders to stay.”
Glory Bee’s heart ached as she watched Rosemary kiss Gilhouley one last time—and she knew a portion of what that kiss must hold. Desperation, regret, despair.
Rosemary sobbed as she climbed into the plane, and Glory Bee quickly handed the baby to John before drawing the other woman down beside her. She didn’t bother with platitudes. They wouldn’t have helped. She held the nurse tightly, absorbing some of her pain as the engines revved and Napoli pointed them out to sea.
The water was rough and Napoli swore, fighting with the controls of the aircraft.
“She’s a heavy bitch,” he muttered to himself. “Come on, come on!”
For a moment, it seemed as if they might have bounced above the waves, but the plane came down again, heavy, causing Glory Bee to gasp. But then, clawing for each inch of clearance, the seaplane began to climb, climb, until the spray of the ocean disappeared and they were lifting up into the night.
Leaving Gilhouley, Petey, and Kilgore alone on the beach.
• • •
Glory Bee didn’t know how much time had passed when she felt a change in the rhythm of the engine. Somehow, both she and Rosemary had managed to fall into a fitful sleep. But now, the plane was descending into the blackness again. It landed hard on the ocean, bounced, then puttered toward what she thought must have been land.
As soon as the pontoons scraped against sand, Napoli cut the engines. Baptiste opened the door and jumped into the surf while John began shoveling supplies to him one by one.
“Where are we?” she whispered groggily.
John glanced at Napoli, then said, “We’re on a little island about seventy-five miles south of Mindinao. According to our sources, the Japanese haven’t touched it yet. Probably because it’s too small to be of much use.”
Within minutes the only bags remaining were those that belonged to John, Glory Bee, and Rosemary.
Glory Bee glanced down at the other woman who still lay sleeping, her brow puckered in a frown. Then, she looked up at John, knowing without even having to be told.
“You’re not coming with us, are you?” But it wasn’t a question.
She already knew the answer.
John knelt on the floor beside her, taking her face in his hands.
“I’m not sending you away, Glory Bee. I’m sending you and our daughter to safety.”
She nodded, remembering that day in the forest when she’d begged John to let her stay with him.
His eyes were haunted. “I’ve been working with Gilhouley to set up watchers on these remote islands. If there were any other way—”
She put a finger over his lips. “I know, John. I know.”
Glory Bee pulled her husband tightly against her, absorbing his strength, his goodness. And she remembered the man he’d been when she’d met him—grim and angry at the world. He’d once been asked to turn his back on people in need, and she knew that to demand it of him again would destroy him. So she framed his face in her hands and looked deeply into his eyes, needing to sear each angle into her memory.
Then, kissing him, once, twice, she whispered, “I love you John Macklin. I will always love you. And we’ll wait for you. However long it takes.”
His own kiss was passionate and desperate, sealing the depth of his own desire and wealth of emotion on her in a way that she knew she would never forget. Then, lifting his head, he said, “Take care of yourself. Of our daughter.”
“I will.”
“If I knew how to get a letter to you, I’d write—”
“Send word through the Capitol Heights Theater in Washington, D.C..” She grinned. “I won’t be performing there any time soon, but I’ve got friends who work there. They’ll let me know if anything comes.”
He offered her a smile, then he bent to place a kiss on Hope’s forehead, brushed a finger against her cheek.
When he looked at Glory Bee, his eyes shone with tears. “I don’t think I ever truly believed in miracles before, Glory Bee. But I believe in them now.”
He kissed her again, quickly, passionately. Then, obviously not trusting himself to linger even a moment longer, he grabbed his pack and jumped into the surf, latching the door behind him. Pressing her face against the glass, Glory Bee held her hand up, waving. And then, as her heart lay crumbling in her breast, Napoli once again pointed the seaplane toward open water.