by Marilyn Turk
“Maybe you’re right. Mark, can I ask you a question?”
“Of course. Go ahead.”
“Did you have to pass the military physical to be a chaplain?”
Mark nodded. “Yes, I did. Same drills.”
Russell blew out a breath. He couldn’t even pass a physical to be a chaplain.
“Look, Russell. You know God has a plan for you. How do you know this isn’t it?”
Russell shrugged. “I don’t know. I felt like I should come on this trip, that I would find the answer if I did. But I think there’s something more, something else for me to do.”
“I’m sure you’ll find out what it is. If you’re seeking God’s will, He’s going to reveal it to you. Just keep following one step at a time, and you’ll find your answer.”
Russell stared out the window at the troops, then turned and shook Mark’s hand.
“Thanks for your time, Mark. I’ll be thinking about what you said.”
“Maybe you need to pray about it too.”
Chapter Twenty-Six
Lexie wanted desperately to listen to the sermon, but she couldn’t. The events of the last two weeks kept going through her mind. Why didn’t she realize something wasn’t right about Cal? Maybe subconsciously, she did. After all, she did have some uneasy feelings, but she’d dismissed them, telling herself she was too suspicious. And yet, she’d enjoyed his company, and he’d been a willing listener when she talked about her work at the hospital.
She wanted to kick herself. Was he just acting the whole time? Playing the role of a normal American? She replayed their conversations, looking for clues about his true identity. He said he grew up in the States, didn’t he? But his mother and sister lived in Canada, and he’d said he hadn’t talked to them for a while. Did they know he was a spy for the Nazis?
Lexie imitated the motions of the service, standing and sitting when everyone else did. She scanned the sanctuary as the minister spoke, the other congregants in rapt attention. What did they think about the enemy being so close to them at one point?
Cal had asked her to pray for him. Was he just pretending to be a God-fearing man too? He’d questioned her faith, so maybe it was because he didn’t have any. Where were his principles? She couldn’t believe he followed that despicable Hitler. She shuddered at the thought. How could he fool her so much? A tremor of fear flashed through her mind. Had she ever been in real danger from the spies, from Cal? After all, they came to America to destroy the country and obviously didn’t care about any casualties. The last time she’d seen him, he’d acted strangely, and she’d been more nervous going back to the residence, like she was being watched. Was there a valid reason for her fear? Why, even Cal had told her to be careful. Did he know she was in danger? From what or whom?
She trembled with anger, and tears came to her eyes. She’d been betrayed by someone she trusted. And all she’d done was be friendly and give others the benefit of the doubt, treat them the way she’d like to be treated—the Golden Rule—Russell called it. Russell. What would he think when she told him about Cal? Cal had even stayed at the Martinique. Had Russell noticed anything suspicious? And would he think she was a complete fool? She shook her head. How embarrassing. She could just see it now, imagining the shock on his face. “Welcome home, Russell. Did you know I was friends with a Nazi spy?”
Anger boiled up again. Boy, if she ever saw that Cal Miller again, she’d give him a piece of her mind! She wanted to look him in the face and give him what for. But no, she didn’t want to see him again. Knowing what she did now, the prospect of running into him again would be very dangerous. One thing she knew, she’d never be able to forgive him, whether he knew it or not.
Peg nudged her elbow and motioned to the hymnal. They stood to sing “Amazing Grace.” A lump formed in Lexie’s throat as she tried to sing. If only Cal knew this song. If only he believed the words that God’s grace could save him. But it was too late for that now. Wasn’t it? She’d told him she’d pray for him. Maybe he was a liar, but she wasn’t, and if she said she would pray, she would, even though she wasn’t sure what to pray for. Lord God, Cal, or whoever he is, needs you. Help him to do the right thing, and please help me to forgive him for not being honest with me.
It was almost showtime. Hundreds of soldiers filed in and sat cross-legged on the floor of the hangar, laughing and joking with each other, while others stood around the side and rear of the hangar.
Russell scanned the room full of fresh faces as the building reverberated with anticipation. These guys deserved a good show, and he’d do his best to give them one.
Artie edged over to the piano and muttered, “No sign of Gloria. Got any idea where she might be?”
“Not a clue,” said Russell. “Last time I saw her was at lunch, same time as you probably.”
“Yeah, that’s right. Just wondered if you’d seen her since because you disappeared. Oh, well, guess we have to play without her.” He glanced at the waiting crowd. “But those boys were looking forward to seeing her.”
The side door opened, and Gloria stumbled in. Immediately, the guys up front started whistling, and she threw them a kiss as she tottered on her high heels to the stage. She looked like a million dollars as always in her pink satin, low-cut gown, but she was obviously tipsy. Boy, Russell hoped she could pull it off.
Artie frowned at her, then pasted on a smile and walked to the mike at the center of the stage while Gloria waited on the side.
“Hello, guys! We’re happy to be here and bring you our show!”
A chorus of hoots and hollers went up from the crowd.
“And I know you’re really here to see Miss Gloria Bentley!” Artie extended his arm, and Gloria made her way slowly across the stage. He stepped away from the mike so she could get to it.
“Hello, boys,” she purred, and the audience went wild with whistles, and catcalls rang through the room.
Artie gave the signal, and the band started playing. Gloria began to sing, posing for the men as she strutted about the stage. Although she slurred some of the lyrics, the men didn’t seem to notice, mesmerized by her feminine charm. She crooned “I Hear a Rhapsody,” and the audience sat spellbound, then they came to life again when she sang “Don’t Sit Under the Apple Tree.”
By the time the band took their break, Gloria was ready to collapse. She strolled over to the piano bench and sank down beside Russell.
“Are you all right?” Russell was afraid she’d lie down on the bench if he moved.
“I need a drink,” she muttered, leaning her head against his shoulder.
“You need some water is what you need.” He waved at one of the guys in the band. “Hey, can you get the lady a glass of water, please?”
The man made the okay sign with his fingers and ran over to a jug of water sitting on a small table by the stage and poured her a glassful. When he brought it to Russell, he winked when handing it out.
“Here, drink this.” Russell pushed her up off his shoulder, holding the glass to her lips. She sipped the water, then waved him away, shaking her head.
“Not that kind of drink! A real drink!”
“I think you’ve had enough of those.” He made her drink more water. “Are you going to be ready for the second set?”
“Sure. As long as you take me home afterward and tuck me in.”
Not this again. Guess she didn’t think he was serious about not being interested. Or maybe it was just the liquor talking. But he might have to take her home because another man might take advantage of her vulnerability.
The other band members came back to the stage and went to their regular places, picking up their instruments. Artie approached the piano and glanced from Russell to Gloria, then back, motioning with his head toward her. “She gonna be all right?”
“I think so.” Russell looked down at Gloria who had fallen back against his shoulder and appeared to be sleeping. He nudged her with his shoulder. “Gloria, time to go back on. Come on, you can do it.�
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“Hmm?” She opened her eyes and glanced around.
The audience started clapping as Artie walked back to center stage, faced the band, and directed them to begin playing “Jersey Bounce,” letting the instrumentals take the lead in the second set. Gloria regained her composure after her brief nap on Russell’s shoulder. She stood in front of the piano, swaying to the music. When the first notes of the next song played, she took the mike and began singing “Johnny Doughboy Found a Rose in Ireland.”
The crowd showed their appreciation in characteristic fashion, and Gloria flashed her widest smile. She made it through the second set with barely a hitch, but the guys in the audience wouldn’t have minded if she’d really screwed up. They were happy just to feast their eyes on her, and she did an expert job working the crowd—winking, smiling, and slinking across the stage. When the band played the last song, Artie said good night and wished the guys well. Many hung around to get autographs, making for a long evening. When the commanding officer finally took over and told the remaining soldiers it was time to go, everyone in the band was exhausted.
Gloria turned around to face the band with her hands on her hips and said, “What I wouldn’t do for a cold Coca-Cola right now.”
“If you’d asked sooner, I bet one of those guys would’ve swum to the States to get you one,” Louis said.
Gloria smiled and said, “I wouldn’t want to put someone out that much!”
Artie stepped up to her and pulled her aside. He kept his voice low, but Russell was pretty sure he knew what Artie needed to talk to her about. Arriving late and drunk was not helpful to the band and jeopardized the performance. Gloria lifted her hands and shrugged during the conversation but appeared apologetic. When they finished their conversation, Artie came over to Russell.
“I want you to keep an eye on her and make sure she doesn’t mess up again.”
Russell’s eyebrows shot up. “Why me?”
“You’re the only guy I can trust to stay straight yourself.”
So he was going to be Gloria’s chaperone? He hadn’t signed up for that job. He doubted Lexie would approve of the assignment either.
“I’ll try, Artie, but I can’t promise to watch her all the time.”
“Just do your best. Talk to her or something. We’ve got more bases to go to, and we can’t deal with a drunk performer. The USO would not be happy if things went wrong because of it.”
“Sure, Artie. I’ll talk to her.”
Good Lord, what had he gotten himself into?
All the way back to the city, Lexie was on edge. She scrutinized every passenger that boarded the train. Not that she expected to travel with more spies, but she doubted her ability to judge people anymore. The faint possibility that she might see Cal only added to her paranoia.
At Penn Station, her head revolved like a top as she tried to get a look at every person she saw. She studied their faces and imagined who they were and why they were there. Stepping outside, she watched every person on the sidewalk, observing mannerisms and listening to their speech for anything unusual. She’d missed the clues before, but she wouldn’t miss them again.
Someone bumped into her, and she spun around, eyes wide, ready to meet her attacker.
“Sorry,” the gentleman muttered as he went on his way.
Her heart raced, and she took a deep breath to calm down. Where once no one had been a threat, now everyone was. She stepped off the curb, and a car honked. She jumped back, out of the way. She was paying so much attention to the people that she hadn’t even considered the traffic. But something made her move into the street. Was she pushed? With so many people crowding the curb, how could she be sure? She glanced around, a little embarrassed, yet looking for a guilty party. But no one was looking at her. They were all focused on getting across. She must be imagining things.
After waiting for traffic to clear, she crossed the street with other pedestrians, constantly looking over her shoulder to see if she were being followed. She walked two blocks briskly before reaching the corner where the Martinique Hotel stood. She paused and looked up at the tall building where Russell used to work and where Cal and his co-conspirators had stayed. Was this where they made their dreadful destructive plans? If Cal wasn’t staying here anymore, where had he gone? How had he avoided capture when all his friends were caught? A wry smile crossed her face remembering that Cal insisted the other men weren’t his friends. But that was another lie, now that she knew they were his associates.
She walked two more blocks before she got to Mack’s Diner. Was Mack aware that the spies had eaten in his establishment? She had half a mind to tell him, but what would Mack think about her, having seen her with Cal? Would he think she was a spy too? Her stomach knotted. She had been completely naïve, yet she could be considered suspicious too by association. Now she had something else to worry about. But maybe they weren’t aware that he was a spy since his picture wasn’t in the paper, even though his nervous pal’s was.
Anger toward Cal surfaced again as she realized that he had put her reputation in jeopardy, too, whether he knew it or not. Not that he would care.
She quickened her step as she passed the diner, afraid to look in but not sure whether she wanted to keep from seeing someone inside or to keep from being seen. The sun was setting, and shadows were lengthening as she continued the final blocks to the residence. There were fewer people out now that rush hour was over, and she felt conspicuous walking alone. Every sound she heard sent her body a warning. Every sign of movement drew her attention. Why hadn’t she taken the bus back this time? Yet, she’d become so accustomed to walking, it hadn’t crossed her mind to do otherwise. Perhaps it was time to change her routine, especially if she were being watched.
The familiar red brick of the residence was ahead, and she welcomed the sight. As she entered the door, she blew out a breath. Finally, she was in a safe place. Tomorrow, she’d be back in her routine, back to her normal life where dangerous people were kept behind locked doors.
The residence living room was full of nurses huddled in groups. Newspapers were strewn about as the women pointed and chatted. Lexie spotted Penny and strolled over to the couch where she and several other girls clustered together over a copy of the New York Times.
Penny looked up as she approached. “Hey, Lexie. Have you heard about the spies?”
If Penny only knew. Lexie feigned ignorance. “Spies?”
“Yes, spies! Come see!” Penny patted a spot on the couch beside her.
Lexie sat next to her roommate who held a newspaper at arm’s length in front of her, pointing to the headlines. “See? Right here! I mean, they landed on Long Island, Lexie!”
Lexie pretended to be surprised. “Oh my goodness! I can’t believe it!”
“Lexie, can you believe they were so close? I mean, what if you had run into them when you were out on the island?”
Lexie shook her head. “Thank God, I didn’t.” But she did.
“Here’s their pictures.” One of the girls folded the paper back to the page where the story continued.
Penny peered closely at the photos. “Say, Lexie. That guy looks like the guy we saw at the diner. Remember the nervous guy that was with the good-looking one?” She pointed to the spy.
Lexie glanced at the picture and shook her head. “I don’t think so, Penny.”
Penny held the paper closer to her face. “You sure? I don’t know…”
“Penny, if that guy was a spy, where’s the other one, the guy that said his name was, um, Cal? I don’t see his picture.”
“I guess you’re right. Well, that’s a relief.” She put the paper down, then looked at Lexie with wide eyes. “Wouldn’t that be something if we actually talked to spies?”
“That would be something all right. Good thing we didn’t.” Lexie hoped she sounded convincing. The paper showed seven spies in the pictures. But there were at least one or even two more. Did anyone else know about them? Should Lexie report what she knew to
the authorities? Lord, please show me what to do.
When Lexie arrived on her usual floor at the psychiatric hospital the following day, Nurse Addams greeted her stiffly. “Good morning, Nurse Smithfield. I hope you enjoyed your weekend.”
Lexie flinched at the nurse’s condescending attitude. What had she done to warrant this tone?
“Is something wrong, Nurse Addams?”
The nurse’s lips were drawn in a tight line. “Seems like your favorite patient has had a setback.”
“My favorite patient?” Who? Then it struck her. “John Doe— I mean Mike Walker?”
“The one and the same.” Nurse Addams gave a swift nod of her head.
Lexie’s heart sank. “What happened? He didn’t go back into catatonia, did he?”
“Oh no, quite the opposite in fact.” She slapped her hand down on the desk. “He had another violent outburst, and we had to strap him down.”
“Do you know why, what might have set him off?” Lexie figured there had to be an explanation for his anger. Now that he had his voice back, couldn’t he communicate his needs?
“Dr. Kappas was in the ward. I had to leave to get something for the doctor, and when I got back, Mr. Walker had the doctor in a headlock, and I had to call the attendants for help.”
Lexie shook her head in disbelief, disappointed to hear Mike was back in restraints. He had told Lexie he didn’t like Dr. Kappas, accusing the doctor of making a pass at Lexie. But what had triggered the recent episode?
“I’m really sorry to hear that,” she said. “How long will he be in restraints?”
“Probably until his treatment,” the nurse said. “He’s scheduled for electric shock therapy tomorrow.”
Her senses jolted, Lexie grasped for composure. The news affected her deeply, too much so, she realized. He was just a patient, and she was not an expert in psychiatric treatment, but she’d become personally involved in his progress. To hear he was slated for shock therapy was like hearing she’d failed a test, but more than that, somehow failed Mike.