He remained silent for a long time. Finally he inquired in a soft, yet respectful voice, “Elisabeth, are you a believer?”
“Yes, I am. Why do you ask?”
“I wanted to be sure we have the same frame of reference.” He turned to face her and took both her mittened hands in his own. “Since we believe in Jesus as Savior, we also have to believe in God as the Controller of all things. We don’t know why He allows the things He allows, but we can be at peace knowing He is in control.”
She shook her head in disagreement. “That’s not good enough for me. I believe He is in control, but I want to know why He doesn’t stop it.”
Again he didn’t respond immediately. Finally, he shrugged. “I can’t even pretend to have an answer for that, Elisabeth. For me, it’s enough to be doing what I can to help stop the war. I wish I could give you answers, but since I can’t, I’ll offer to pray until peace comes to you. In the meantime, I’d better get you back to where it’s warm. Shall we return to the mess or would you rather go back to your barracks?”
“The barracks, please.” She appreciated his perception of her mood. She needed quiet now, not a noisy roomful of people. To her surprise, he kept her hand tucked in the crook of his elbow and let the walk pass in silence. When they reached the nurses’ quarters, she smiled up at him. “Thank you for listening and for the company.”
“My pleasure.” A smile lit his face once more, as if he’d just thought of a wonderful secret. He saluted her then walked away into the night.
Chapter 2
Elisabeth woke at reveille the next morning, feeling as if she’d barely slept. Her conversation with the tall pilot had replayed itself in her dreams. It wasn’t typical of her to voice her thoughts, and especially not to someone she barely knew. What was it about the Canadian that had drawn such openness from her?
She thought back over the evening as she loosened the braid that had confined her long, heavy hair while she slept. The words to the song she’d learned began to replace her self-conscious thoughts, and she found herself humming the poignant tune. As always, picking up the silver-backed brush from her dresser top made her think of home. The brush had been a Christmas gift from Papa Johan and Mama Glorie, and it matched the silver picture frame that always stood beside it. The frame held a sketch of a curly haired tot and a woman smiling at one another. The love between the two glowed from the picture. Elisabeth slid her fingers over the images, giving thanks yet again for Papa Johan’s artistic skill. He’d drawn the portrait of Elisabeth and her mother, Grace, in the hospital where he’d been recovering from war injuries. Just weeks later, both of Elisabeth’s birth parents succumbed to the flu epidemic. She paused to say a quick prayer for the health, safety, and happiness of her adoptive parents. Then, as she began to brush her hair, her gaze drifted to the small metal brooch pinned to her dresser scarf.
Shaped like the lamp carried by every nurse’s heroine, Florence Nightingale, it had been created by Elisabeth’s great-grandfather. Elisabeth’s adoptive mother, Glorie, had inherited the pin, and had presented it to Elisabeth just before her departure for Happy Valley-Goose Bay. More than anything, Elisabeth wanted to live up to the traditions of dedication and service it represented. How could she be worthy of it with so many questions in her soul? She wished she could replace the questions with certainty as easily as she replaced her nightclothes with her nursing uniform.
With the ease of frequent repetition, she gathered her hair into a low ponytail at her nape, then twisted the hair into a tidy bun on the back of her head. A few pins secured it. She set her white nursing cap in place and secured it as well.
She checked her appearance in the mirror one final time. To her relief, none of her doubts showed in her blue eyes. Instead, a competent-looking nurse stared back at her. Her soul might not be as steady as Mama Glorie’s, but her appearance was every bit as professional. The thought brought a smile to her lips as she bundled into her army-issue Arctic parka and boots.
From her first day on duty she had enjoyed the short walk from the nurses’ barracks to the hospital. The distance was just long enough for her to enjoy a bit of fresh air and yet short enough that walking on even the coldest days wasn’t unbearable. At ten minutes to seven, she saluted her nursing supervisor. “Good morning, Captain.”
“Good morning, Lieutenant.” Of average height, Captain Thompson had straight, graying hair that seemed always to be perfectly ordered beneath her nursing cap. Laugh lines around her brown eyes indicated a sense of humor Elisabeth had seen only rarely. Most of the time, the captain projected an image of military precision that made Elisabeth feel like a stumbling recruit. “It was a quiet night, so I sent the night nurses home a few minutes early.”
“Yes, ma’am.” Elisabeth saluted again as a third nurse, Sandra Carter, arrived. She and Elisabeth shared the same rank, so the salute wasn’t strictly necessary. However, Elisabeth didn’t want to neglect any detail in Captain Thompson’s presence.
Lieutenant Carter had received her training through the Army Nurse Corps, so she had as much military training as medical. She and Elisabeth had become friends soon after Elisabeth’s arrival, and she had helped Elisabeth adapt to the military environment. With blond curly hair, which often escaped its confining twist, and twinkling green eyes, she had an air of relaxed confidence that always put Elisabeth at ease. For the next four days, the two women would work the same shifts. Elisabeth enjoyed working with the tall nurse. When their duties allowed, they often traded confidences, which made Elisabeth feel as though Sandra were the sister she’d often craved.
But today gave them no time for confidences. They served breakfast to the six patients under their care, and by lunchtime, a series of accidents had filled the ward to capacity. Two soldiers had encountered “soft ice” on the lake and were brought in with hypothermia. A plane returning from a reconnaissance mission over the Atlantic missed the end of the runway, resulting in broken bones for all four crew members. The navigator had escaped the plane first but returned to drag the pilot from the burning wreckage. The pilot had a few minor burns on his face, but the navigator’s hands were much more severely burned. A pneumonia case and two men suffering dehydration from the flu filled the remaining beds.
“The nurses on Ward A are just as busy,” Captain Thompson informed them. “It looks like influenza has hit the Signal Detachment hard.”
Elisabeth felt grateful for the busyness. The tall pilot and their conversation the previous evening kept returning to her thoughts. Something about him piqued her interest beyond anything she’d ever experienced. But the demands of the day forced her to focus on other things, enabling her to ignore the strange attraction. By the end of the eight-hour shift, she wanted nothing more than to prop her aching feet on a stool and just sit still. The next shift of nurses arrived, she and Sandra gave them an overview of the patients, and then the two women walked together back to the barracks.
“Any plans for tonight?” Sandra asked with an odd gleam in her eyes.
Elisabeth laughed in spite of her exhaustion. “Yes. I have a hot date with my footstool and a shower. Cynthia is away, so I have the room to myself.”
“Where is she off to this time?”
“She left yesterday for Iceland to airlift some patients to Halifax.”
“Hmm. Maybe you should have become a flight nurse.” Sandra grinned at Elisabeth, her eyes dancing with mischief. “You might have met your pilot sooner.”
“My pilot?” Elisabeth tried to stem the blush that warmed her cheeks.
Sandra winked at her. “I hear you two made quite an impression in the mess last night. I’m sorry I missed it. I figure he has to be someone special if he got you to come out of your corner.”
From anyone else, the comment could have been hurtful. But Elisabeth knew Sandra understood her shyness. In fact, the other nurse often deflected attention away from Elisabeth when she sensed Elisabeth’s discomfort in social situations. Elisabeth shrugged and grinned back. “H
e bribed me with that song. I’d never heard it before, and the music was wonderful. He suggested we go look at the words, and the next thing I knew I was singing along with him. I didn’t realize everyone was listening until it was too late to stop.”
Sandra put an arm across Elisabeth’s shoulders in a quick hug. “Good for you! From what I heard, you two sounded great together.”
Elisabeth shrugged. “He’s with the Canadian Air Force, so it’s not like he’ll be at our mess on a regular basis.”
“Maybe so, maybe not,” Sandra replied cryptically, reaching for the door of the barracks building. “Do you feel like playing some Ping-Pong later?”
“Sure. You know I’m always ready for a game.”
On either side of the entry area a long hallway led to nurses’ quarters. Sandra’s room lay down the hallway on the left, while Elisabeth’s was on the right. Elisabeth looked forward to what promised to be a quiet afternoon and evening. She opened the door and almost stepped on a folded white piece of paper that lay just beyond the threshold. She unfolded the paper to reveal small, neat printing.
Dear Lt. Baker:
Please do me the honor of accompanying me to dinner in the Canadian officers’ mess tonight at 1900 hours. With your consent, I will provide transportation at 1830 hours.
Sincerely,
Ian MacDonald
A thrill shot through her, quickly replaced by trepidation. Why did he want to seek her out? She noticed the absence of rank in his signature, seeming to put their fledgling acquaintance on a personal level. Yet, the respect in his form of address showed he didn’t want to presume anything, either. It conveyed a comfortable balance between formality and friendship. But of all the nurses he could have invited, why her?
She pondered the invitation while she traded her uniform for her flannel housecoat, then slipped down the hallway to the communal shower room at the end of the barracks. With a plastic cap covering her hair, she enjoyed a quick but warm shower that eased the day’s tightness out of her muscles. Back in her room, she stretched out on her bed for a rest. What would she do about the pilot’s invitation? Her impulse was to turn it down. She had no way of making contact with him before his arrival at 6:30, but she could easily leave a note for him taped to the front door.
Yet just as her thoughts had been pulled toward memories of their meeting last night, so now a strange sort of instinct pulled at her to accept the invitation. She argued with herself that she’d already made plans with Sandra. The strange “something” argued back that Sandra wouldn’t mind the change in plans—would, in fact, encourage it.
With a grunt of frustration, she stood up. She might as well talk it over with Sandra right away. She wouldn’t be able to relax until she’d made her decision. Regulations permitted the wearing of civilian clothing within the barracks, so she pulled on a white turtleneck sweater, navy wool pants, navy socks, and white tennis shoes. Around her hairline, wisps of hair had curled from the steam of her shower, but her hair remained tidy enough for a visit to the other nurse’s room. She grabbed the paper off her bed and hurried down the hallway.
She found her friend lounging in her housecoat, a book in hand. “What story are you into now?” she teased.
“Nothing I can’t put aside for you.” Sandra closed the book and set it on her dresser. “It must be important to bring you out of your room before supper. Sit down, honey.” She patted the edge of her bed.
“I found this under my door after our shift ended.” She held out the note, and Sandra took it. Elisabeth remained silent while Sandra read. At Sandra’s wide smile, Elisabeth held up a cautioning hand. “Don’t jump to conclusions. He’s invited me for dinner, that’s all. Not a one of us nurses goes a week without at least one dinner invitation. It’s part of being only a handful of women among thousands of men.”
Sandra raised her eyebrows. “Which explains why a Canadian pilot seeks out an American nurse and offers to take her to his mess?”
Elisabeth shrugged, willing down the blush that warmed her face again. “How do I know what he’s thinking?”
“That’s not as important as what you’re thinking. The fact you’re even considering this invitation tells me there’s some kind of spark between you two.”
“He just wants to be friends, that’s all.” She accepted the paper as Sandra returned it to her.
“How many dates have you had?” Sandra’s gaze turned perceptive.
“You mean invitations or dates I’ve accepted?”
Sandra’s smile was indulgent. “Ones you’ve accepted.”
“Just here at Goose Bay or in general?”
“You’re stalling, my friend.” Sandra stood and beckoned Elisabeth to take the chair, then began rubbing the other woman’s shoulders. “How many dates have you actually accepted in your lifetime?”
“None.” She felt ashamed to admit she’d never participated in an activity that seemed a normal and frequent part of many people’s lives.
“How many invitations have you received?” Sandra’s fingers worked at a particularly tight spot beside Elisabeth’s neck.
“I don’t keep track.”
“And that’s my point,” her friend offered. “You never lack for attention from men, but you always turn it away. For the first time since I met you, you’re actually thinking about going on a date. Not only are you considering spending time with someone you barely know, but you’re even willing to go somewhere unfamiliar. It seems to me your heart might be speaking louder than your brain.”
Heart? What did her heart have to do with it? Heart implied affection, and affection could lead to falling in love. There was no way Elisabeth wanted to let her emotions get entangled. But if she voiced that resolution, Sandra would grill her about her reasons, and she wasn’t ready for that. “How can my heart have anything to do with this? I met him just last night.”
“He’s obviously smitten with you. Sometimes the best things in our lives happen in mere moments. So, are you going?”
“I don’t know.” Elisabeth took in a deep breath then let it out slowly. “You and I already had plans for the evening.”
Sandra laughed as she moved around to sit on the edge of her bed. “As if those plans were anything special. Girl, you have a chance to spend time with a man who must appeal to you in some way. Just go with it. Besides, I’ve decided I’m too tired for Ping-Pong tonight. After you leave to get ready for your date, I might just lay down for a nap and let myself sleep right through supper.” She tried to pull her face into an exhausted expression, but her eyes twinkled.
Elisabeth couldn’t help but laugh. “As if you’ve ever slept through any meal!” She sobered. “This must be another of those experiences that my Papa Johan calls a ‘stretching experience.’ I can’t say I enjoy them.”
“Silly woman!” Sandra leaned forward to give Elisabeth a quick hug. “It’s just dinner and some pleasant conversation, not ward inspection. Go and let yourself have a good time.” She stretched out on her bed. “I’m going to sleep.”
Elisabeth left her friend’s room, wishing her decision were as simple as Sandra made it sound. Yes, a part of her felt drawn to the tall, charismatic pilot. But she didn’t want to be. She wanted no attachment to any soldier. If she fell in love then lost her love to this horrible war, she doubted she’d ever recover. Better to stay firmly unattached until the world returned to normal.
She changed back into her housecoat and lay down on her bed. Pulling a wool, army-issue blanket over herself, she snuggled down into her pillow, willing her body to relax for a nap. If she woke in time to get ready, she might just take this adventure. If she didn’t, then Ian MacDonald would arrive to pick her up and would probably assume she’d had to work. But that was the cowardly way out. It would also show lack of respect for a fellow officer and, even worse, an officer from another army. Her integrity rebelled against the thought.
Two choices remained—compose a note of regret for him or get dressed to accompany him. Both options gav
e her the jitters. Slowly she remembered Papa Johan’s advice. How often she’d seen him wrestling with difficult choices in his diplomatic career. “I just need to listen to my heart,” he’d say. “The still small voice of God will tell me what to do.” Then he’d lie down on the sofa in their living room and close his eyes. She and Mama Glorie knew not to disturb him when he lay in that pose. Rarely did more than half an hour pass before his eyes would open. He’d look at Mama Glorie and say, “I see the clear path.”
As Elisabeth was growing up and she faced her own difficult decisions, neither he nor Mama Glorie dispensed advice. Papa Johan would always ask, “What is your heart telling you?” Her heart had led her first to train as a nurse and then to join the Red Cross. Even though service in the Red Cross had then required that she become part of the Army Nursing Corps, she still knew her choices had been right.
But now she faced a different kind of decision. This wasn’t so much about her future as about vulnerability. She closed her eyes and willed her thoughts to still. She could remain emotionally safe and turn down the pilot’s invitation. She imagined herself writing the note then spending the evening quietly with some of her coworkers. The prospect held appeal, except she knew she’d wonder how the evening could have turned out. What if she never experienced a second opportunity to get to know Ian MacDonald? That thought filled her with unease.
What if she “took her courage in hand” as Mama Glorie would say and accepted the invitation? It would mean unfamiliar people in an unfamiliar setting. Not her favorite way to spend an evening, but it would also mean a chance to find new friendship. As much as she felt terrified, she also felt a tingling anticipation.
Kind of like the day she started nurses’ training. And like the day she boarded the plane to come to Goose Bay.
She saw a clear path … with Ian MacDonald as her dinner companion this evening. She couldn’t predict where the path would lead, nor did she think she wanted to try. It would take all her courage to follow her heart just for tonight.
A Sentimental Journey Romance Collection Page 53