One evening, as she sat alone in her room, a diffident tap at the door startled her. When Elisabeth opened the door, a fellow nurse stood on the other side with a piece of paper in her hand. “One of the Canadian pilots asked me to give this to you.”
Before her brain could absorb the information, a jolt of delight went through her. With shaking hands, she opened the note. “If you would join me outside, I have a surprise for you.” It was signed simply, “Ian.”
She dismissed the other nurse with a smile and a “thank you,” then shut her door and began pulling on outerwear as fast as her hands could move. All the while, she reminded herself that she needed to tell Ian she couldn’t date him anymore. Regardless of what she felt she had to say, her heart refused to let go of its happiness.
Well-bundled against the cold, she hurried outside. There he stood, off to one side, looking more handsome even than in her dreams. He held a basket on one arm, and with the other, he beckoned her. “I figured it’s a good day for a picnic, since it’s too cold for bugs.”
Elisabeth laughed, the first time she’d felt any kind of joy since the awful news ten days previously. She tucked her hand into the crook of his elbow and smiled up at him. “It’s good to see you.”
He began walking at an easy, wandering pace. “I’m not supposed to tell you I’ve logged more hours in the air than I think I can count. I no sooner get one plane delivered than they whip me back here for another one. So, how have you been?”
She studied the snow in front of her feet. How much should she tell him? Since this would be the last time she would see him, she might as well be honest. “My roommate was killed in a crash landing at Gander a couple of weeks ago.”
“The flight nurse?” His voice quivered with disbelief.
“Cynthia.” She could barely say the name.
“Oh, no. I saw the rubble on a couple of landings before they got it cleared away. They told me a nurse had been killed, but I had no idea it was your roommate. I’m so sorry, Elisabeth. How are you doing with it?”
She shrugged. “I’m coping, I guess. Don’t have much choice.”
He let the silence hover for several strides. Then with a gentle nudge, he turned her toward a snowbank as high as her waist. “Let’s sit for a few minutes. The snowbank will break the wind.” He pulled a blanket from the basket on his arm and laid it out on the snow, then gestured for her to take a seat. She expected to be chilled quickly. Instead, with the diminished wind, she felt cozy in her Arctic gear. He lifted an insulated container from the basket, then filled two mugs with steaming liquid.
“Hot chocolate?” she asked incredulously. “How did you come by this?”
“Connections,” he responded with a saucy grin.
Not until they had finished the drinks and resumed their walk did she find the courage to voice her thoughts. “Ian, I don’t know how to say this, so I’m just going to be blunt. I don’t think I should see you anymore.” She couldn’t bear to look up into his face. If she had hurt him, she wouldn’t be able to forgive herself. Still, she had to protect herself. The past two weeks had reinforced her resolution.
When he spoke, his voice remained as conversationally friendly as ever. “Would you mind telling me why, other than the fact that I’m never around?”
“I don’t want to get attached.” The words sounded cold, but she had to make her point.
“Are you talking about friendship or about romance?”
“Both.”
“Elisabeth.” He paused and turned her to face him. The intensity of his gaze, even in the gathering dusk, compelled her to maintain eye contact. “I don’t have to tell you we’re living in terrible times. I know better than anyone how easily I could take off on a flight and never return. Not once do I take off from a runway without thinking of my mother and two sisters and the loss they’ll feel if something happens to me. I feel horrible about making them live with that. But I couldn’t live with myself if I didn’t do what I do.”
He set the basket on the ground and took both of her gloved hands in his. “I’m not one to date just for the sake of dating. I know there’s something special between us, but I don’t want to try to define it. I cannot let myself become part of a romantic attachment until I know for sure that I’ll be alive to fulfill any promises I make. Does that make sense to you?”
She nodded, no longer sure of her own feelings. Just to hear him say the words “something special between us” filled her with both joy and foreboding. She couldn’t care about him any more than she already did. She simply wouldn’t let herself.
“Are we still friends?” Once again, his gaze held hers.
Once again she nodded, incapable of further response.
“I do want to keep you as a friend for as long as God allows.” He tucked her hand around his arm again and picked up the basket, resuming their walk. “I know you’re going through a horrible time right now, and I hope it helps to know that I think of you often.”
For some strange reason, it did help. The ache that she’d begun to think would be a permanent part of her began to ease.
“Look up there.” He pointed into the sky ahead of them. The cloud cover was sporadic tonight, providing a clear view of a large, full moon. “That’s your reminder, little friend. Whether I’m in Gander, Iceland, England, or someplace as yet unknown, I’ll see the same moon and I’ll be thinking of you.” Then in the wonderful baritone she’d heard once before, he began to sing,
“No matter where I go
You’ll be with me in my soul.
Though we have to part for now
In our hearts we’re never far.
When I see the sun, I’ll feel your smile.
When I look at the moon, I’ll think of you.”
She tried to hum along, but emotion clogged her throat. He finished with a grin, and they returned to the barracks in silence. At the doors, he wrapped her in a quick hug. “Remember the moon,” he whispered, then he stood back as she went inside. Not until she reached her room did she realize he hadn’t agreed that they shouldn’t see each other again. Rather, he’d offered a promise of friendship that her heart seemed determined to cherish in spite of her good intentions.
And so, each day as she trudged through the snow and darkness to and from work, she couldn’t help but look upward. She was surprised at how often she could see the moon, however faintly, in spite of the seemingly permanent cloud cover. Whenever she saw the steady glow, a matching glow lit her soul.
Just ten days before Christmas, a package arrived from home. She invited Sandra to join her as she opened the treasure. Tissue swathed the top layer. She gently pulled the packing aside to reveal a small wreath woven from dried stalks of grain and decorated with bits of green felt and tiny red yarn pom-poms. Beneath that lay a box of fudge, from which they each took an immediate sample, and a tin of her favorite shortbread cookies. A cedar box lay at the bottom of the package, with an envelope attached.
Dearest Elisabeth,
The note began in her mother’s tidy handwriting.
While Papa Johan and I were praying for you the other day, I felt the time had come to send you this. The letters and the journal were written by my grandmother Lucy, your great-grandmother, while she served as a nurse during the Civil War. Her thoughts encouraged your papa and me during some dark days when our circumstances were similar to yours, and I hope they’ll do the same for you.
With all our love,
Mama Glorie
Elisabeth gently lifted the cedar lid. Carefully folded within lay sheets of paper already yellowing with age. She felt startled by the unfamiliarity of the rounded writing. In the years before Great-Grandma’s death, she’d often sent little notes to Elisabeth. That writing had been shaky and sprawling. But as soon as she started reading the words, she knew her great-grandmother’s spirit hadn’t changed a bit with age. Her courage and determination showed through each sentence.
She laid the box aside with regret. With only an hour until t
ime to report for her shift, she couldn’t let herself get involved in the story she was sure to find. But distant memories of her great-grandmother accompanied her throughout her hours on duty. It had been years since she’d thought of Lucy as anyone other than the heroic first owner of the pin Elisabeth still wore on the chain beneath her uniform.
Over the course of the next three days, she found opportunity to read the letters a bit at a time. Sunday would be her next day off, and she promised herself she would spend the entire afternoon with the little cedar box. But as she left the chapel after the morning service, she saw a familiar, though unexpected, figure in the crowd ahead of her. The top of his head was visible above those around him, and anticipation rippled through her. She pushed it away with the reminder that she’d told him they shouldn’t see each other again. For that reason, she shouldn’t expect his presence on the American base to mean he’d come to see her.
But as she stepped outside the chapel, there he was, a short distance away, obviously waiting for her. She didn’t try to stop the grin that felt like it might split her face. No matter what she wanted to tell herself about her intentions, she simply couldn’t deny her joy in seeing him. Because they were both in uniform, she couldn’t greet him with anything less than a very proper salute.
Formalities out of the way, they stood facing each other in the cold winter air. “I really wanted to see you this afternoon,” he explained. “I hope you don’t mind.”
She smiled again and shook her head. “I’m glad to see you.”
“Are you?”
She knew why he asked and couldn’t blame him for being uncertain. “I don’t want to be, but I am.” She expected him to be offended by her honesty.
Instead, he looked at her with understanding in his eyes. “We seem to have been given a gift neither of us wants. May we have lunch together?”
“Yes. I’m off today, so my time is my own. Would you like to join us again in the nurses’ dining room?”
“Is there someplace where we might have a semi-private conversation?”
“The officers’ mess might have a quiet corner.”
He nodded, and they both turned toward the building that stood just a few doors away from the chapel. Neither said anything more until they were settled at the end of a large table with full plates in front of them. Ian sat at the end, while Elisabeth sat on the side immediately to his left. Though there were other officers at the table, two empty chairs created a gap for privacy.
After asking a quick blessing over their meal, Ian didn’t reach for his fork right away. Instead, he looked solemnly at Elisabeth. “I came over today because I need to talk with you about something. There’s no easy way to say it, but since I told you I want to be your friend, I feel I have to tell you this.” He studied her face as if trying to discern how she would react then took a deep breath. “I can’t give you any details, but it may be awhile before you see me again. I’ve been assigned to go on patrols.”
Elisabeth didn’t need any further explanation. She had heard patients talking in the ward about “Jerry Patrols.” German U-boats had penetrated partway up the St. Lawrence Seaway and were suspected between Labrador and Newfoundland. While ferrying planes took Ian right over enemy-patrolled waters, this assignment would be even more dangerous. “Jerry Patrols” meant the planes went looking for a fight. The U-boat captains were known for being relentless when attacked. The exchange of gunfire usually ended only when either the submarine or the attacking airplane was destroyed. At that moment, she wished she could take back the evening when they met. If she had known then what she knew now, she would have walked away rather than accept the cup of tea that started their acquaintance.
Instead, she had to sit still and endure the wave of terror that broke over her. Involuntarily, she recalled the early morning conversation with Cynthia before her first flight to England. She’d felt this same clammy fear that morning, and it had proven prophetic. But she couldn’t voice that thought to Ian. He didn’t need her fear. Yet no heartening comment came to mind. Instead, she put a forkful of food into her mouth. It could have been straw for all she knew.
Ian looked closely at her. “I wish I could promise you I’ll come back safe and whole. I’d feel less guilty if I could. All I can tell you is that we want the same thing—an end to this war. You work toward that goal by patching people up. I work toward it by flying a plane wherever they tell me to fly it. We each have to go where duty takes us.”
“I know.” She finally found safe words. “As long as enemy soldiers risk their lives, we have to do the same.”
Chapter 7
Elisabeth reported for work Monday morning feeling as if the last bit of hope had drained from her. It no longer mattered whether or not she should care for Ian. It didn’t even matter whether she felt mere affection or longed for something more. Whatever words she chose to define her feelings, they had been shredded by his announcement yesterday. Her hours on duty became her refuge. At least on the wards, others’ need for her care kept her mind off her own troubles. She felt relieved that she knew none of Ian’s comrades. It would have been unbearable to catch a glimpse of someone who knew him, but not see him.
With Christmas only six days away, activity buzzed around her. The nurses started with the barracks, decorating as best they could with a variety of handmade items. The tissue from boxes received from home became bells and lacy paper chains. Someone’s mother sent popcorn, which the women threaded into long chains in the recreation room. To add even more excitement, the nurses had divided themselves into two “teams.” The team that made the longest popcorn chain by Christmas Eve would be treated to foot massages and back rubs by the other team.
Then, as time allowed, the nurses on night shift created little bits of cheer for the wards. They used green and red crayons to color mini wreaths to hang at the end of each bed. A set of paper bells hung in each doorway. Captain Thompson made no comment about the decorations, either positive or negative, so the day shifts left them in place.
Still, Elisabeth couldn’t get excited about the holiday. “Joy to the World” and “Peace on Earth” were simply too far removed from the emotions with which she coped every day. Christmas Eve morning, she decided to go for a walk. She turned away from the barracks toward a trail that wound around the perimeter of the base. Approaching the main road, she heard someone call her name. “Lieutenant Baker!”
It sounded like “Left-ten-ant,” which was the Canadian pronunciation. She knew only two Canadians. The exceptional height of one of them made him easily identifiable, which meant that this man could only be the padre, as the Canadians called him. “Captain Landry!” In the instant of recognition, she knew his companionship would be exactly what she needed.
Once they were within conversational distance of each other, Don explained, “I saw Ian for a few moments last night and he asked me to be sure to let you know he’s okay. He had just a few hours for some sleep before he had to leave on another patrol.”
Her relief lasted only long enough for her to hear that he was probably on another patrol as they spoke. “Thank you for coming.”
“Ian told me of your loss. How have you been?” His tone told her he cared, but without pity.
For a few moments she considered dissembling, as she’d done with everyone else. After a week of hearing her reply “Just fine” to every inquiry after her well-being, her fellow nurses stopped asking. Even Sandra didn’t try to dig further. More than once, Elisabeth had sensed Captain Thompson’s gaze on her. But no matter who asked, she simply couldn’t admit that she lived in moment-by-moment terror of bad news, or that Cynthia’s death still ate at her spirit. She hadn’t even tried to befriend the nurse who now shared her room. “I’m struggling.” She watched Don’s face, alert for any sign that she shouldn’t have confided in him.
But his brown eyes remained steady and watchful. “Struggling isn’t a sin. In fact, it’s healthy.”
She shook her head. “I don’t think so.
My mother was an army nurse in the last war, and somehow she didn’t let stuff like this bother her.”
“Do you know that for sure, or is it just the image you have of her? We often remember our parents as being more heroic than they actually felt at the time. As children, we don’t know the agony of heart they experienced.”
“I don’t think she could have made it through the war if she felt the way I do.”
“Can you tell me what your worst feeling is?”
She pondered the question. It felt good to stop hiding from herself. “If God could stop the war, then why is it necessary for good people to die in it? He didn’t protect Cynthia, so I can’t even ask Him to protect Ian. And yet if something happened to Ian, I wouldn’t be able to forgive myself for not praying for him.”
“Dear girl, Ian’s safety rests in God’s faithfulness, not in yours. If He wills to preserve Ian’s life, nothing can destroy it—not your lack of prayers and certainly not German ammunition.”
“But where was God’s faithfulness when Cynthia’s plane crash-landed? It wasn’t even enemy fire that killed her. It was an accident!” She ended on a sob. The tears poured in hot streams down her cheeks, and she buried her face in her hands. A gentle arm came around her shoulders and pulled her close. She wept against him, not caring about the cold or what anyone who saw them might think. It felt good to let out the grief and confusion. When the sobs no longer shook her shoulders, she remained with her head against him. It was foolish, she knew, but it felt, just for a few minutes, like he had absorbed the burden she’d been carrying alone for so many days.
He fumbled beneath his jacket, then handed her a crisp white handkerchief. “Shall we find some place warmer to continue this discussion?”
A Sentimental Journey Romance Collection Page 56