Basic Training of the Heart

by Jaycie Morrison

  Rains rubbed her forehead, closing her eyes. She had practiced to herself, over and over, what she was going to say to Private Smythe at her next opportunity about attending to her duty, about maintaining self-discipline, but every bit of it had gone out of her head the minute Bett had walked in the door. Trying for a convincing response, Rains scrubbed her hand down her face. “Has anyone ever told you that you have no respect for authority?”

  “Dozens, maybe hundreds,” Bett answered again, laughing as she leaned closer. “And I’m just getting started.”

  “Well, that needs to stop right now.” Rains stood and paced to the other side of the table, shaking her pencil in Smythe’s direction. “Stop asking me questions about my hands or my handwriting. You must not…you need to take yourself and your job more seriously.”

  “Why, when you take it seriously enough for both of us?” Smythe stood also and moved toward Rains from the other direction. Rains had been flexing the pencil between her fists; when it snapped with a pop, she threw it on the table angrily. “My, you are a bear today, aren’t you?” Smythe asked, her eyes dancing.

  Rains couldn’t believe what she had just heard. Was it possible Smythe learned something about the spirit guides during her library expedition?

  She must have looked apprehensive, because Smythe went on, “I know I’m always apologizing to you, Sergeant, but you are really so easy to tease. Please forgive me,” she added, moving another step closer. She smiled again. “Although your squad did have one more question about that hat…” She trailed off, not really expecting a response when Rains yanked off her hat and threw it on the table. A braid of raven hair fell almost to her waist. Bett drew in her breath, moved by the way Rains’s appearance suddenly changed. She looked younger, and very stunning. Bett gazed at her face, thinking Rains was much more a woman than a sergeant with her hair down. A vision of Rains naked, with her long, unbraided tresses trailing down her body, made Bett moisten her lips with her tongue.

  Suddenly, Rains closed the distance between them. “Why are you the only one who asks me these things? Why are you the only one who talks to me this way?” There was frustration and a little desperation in her voice. She didn’t ask what was really in her mind. Why do you make me feel this way?

  They stood facing each other. Smythe answered, “I think the other girls still feel a bit afraid of you.”

  “While you, obviously, do not.”

  Bett linked her fingers through Rains’s, as if to keep her from escaping. “Fear is about the last thing I feel for you, Sergeant,” she said softly and stretched to place a light but lingering kiss directly on Rains’s lips.

  At the touch of Bett’s mouth on hers, Rains’s eyes closed with the sensation of complete stillness inside her. The frustration and anger dissolved completely, like a question answered. When she thought to look, Smythe was still very near, looking at her with a combination of shyness and expectation.

  “Well, say something,” Smythe finally said.

  Rains felt her mind begin to work again. “You can’t,” she began, her voice hoarse, “you can’t do that again.” She cleared her throat, watching Bett’s face sober at her words. “You are a soldier in my command. That is a…a sacred thing. I, we, cannot, not while—not until…” She couldn’t finish but stood, hoping Smythe would understand, that she would know what she wasn’t saying.

  “Ah yes, your gallantry again. I suppose I do have to respect that.” Bett mused, secretly relieved by Rains’s unfinished encouragement. “But I only have one more week before graduation.” She smoothed the new ribbon on Rains’s jacket. “What then?”

  It happened so quickly Bett couldn’t say how, but suddenly Rains’s arms were around her and Rains’s mouth was kissing hers intently, warm and urgent. Bett wrapped her arms around Rains’s neck, and their mouths explored each other eagerly. The fierce longing that Bett had been feeling for weeks exploded into desire as the sergeant moved one hand to cup Bett’s hip and draw her closer. She moaned willingly and pressed her chest up into Rains’s until their shirt buttons clacked together. Something, perhaps that sound, made Rains break the kiss, and when she rested her cheek on Bett’s hair, they were both breathing rapidly.

  “My God,” Bett said after a few seconds, “that was beyond everything I ever imagined. And now you’re going to tell me we have to stop?” She felt Rains’s head nod against her. Slowly, reluctantly, Rains held Bett away from her. Although Bett could see her struggling for control, she couldn’t resist running her hand down Rains’s black braid one time. And this is more beautiful than I imagined as well. “Well, if you’re going to kiss me like that,” she said gently, “you’re going to have to tell me your first name. I can’t very well go around thinking, Oh, Sergeant.”

  Rains almost smiled. “Gale,” she said.

  Bett seemed surprised. “Well that’s very nice—”

  “Like a strong wind. G-a-l-e.”

  “So your name is Gale Rains?” Bett put it together. “But that’s wonderful. Is that the translation for your Indian name?”

  “More or less,” Rains said. “It should really be just Rain, but when I enlisted in the WAAC they wrote it with the s, and I just let it be.” Then was a moment where they could only look at each other; their breathing matched as it slowed gradually.

  “I told Major Ervin I was going to stay here, in Des Moines, after graduation,” Bett said finally, unable to look away from Rains’s eyes, “working with their wireless encoder. But I don’t have to report for another week until they finish some enhancements to the equipment.”

  Rains nodded again, seemingly willing her hands not to move back to Bett’s body by clenching them into fists.

  “So I’ve found living arrangements off base, a little house.” She smiled to herself, wondering what the sergeant would say if she knew how readily her colonel had approved this move—even granting her official permission to go off base and finalize the deal. Issacson really wants to be rid of me. Instead, she raised her brows and asked the more important question, “Will you…will you come see me?”

  Rains surprised herself by being able to speak almost normally. “I would like that.” She knew she needed to say something else. “And I thank you for understanding and for not…for not…” She paused. “For waiting.” Rains saw in Bett’s eyes what they both knew. The edge of control was very thin between them, and Bett could have easily pushed them both over with just one more touch, maybe just one more word. Trying to find her voice as a sergeant again, Rains added, “I commend your self-control.”

  Bett smiled ruefully. “Well, don’t count on it for long, Sergeant.” She ran one hand through her hair, pushing it back behind her right ear, and Rains closed her eyes, unable to watch the familiar gesture. “I take it this will be our last squad leader meeting,” she remarked.

  “Yes, I think that would be best,” Rains said softly, running her hand over her face again before opening her eyes. “You can speak to me during exercise if there are any problems.”

  “I already know of one big problem.” Bett sighed, catching Rains’s hand and kissing the back of her palm very softly. “But I think it will be solved in a week or so.” Rains swallowed hard and Bett saw her start to lean closer, saw her eyes darken, and sensed that Rains would reach for her again. As much as she wanted more, wanted it right this second, she knew Rains was right. For something real to come of this, they needed to move beyond their official roles as sergeant and private. For the first time in her life, Bett made the decision to wait. She turned very quickly and opened the door. Rains’s deep groan probably passed as a throat clearing sound to the corporal walking down the hall outside. “Thank you, Sergeant,” she called back over her shoulder.

  She almost thought Rains wasn’t going to answer as she began pulling the door shut. Just before it clicked, she heard, faintly, “Thank you, Private Smythe.”

  *

  That night Bett had a vivid dream of her time at Kent Prep, and of Emma. At first she w
as merely watching herself on her first morning at her new boarding school—a frightened ten-year-old sitting in the headmistress’s office with her father, so desperate to make him proud. Then the sounds of girls’ voices in the hallway turned her head and she watched a group going up the stairs. They returned her look with expressions of curiosity, disdain, interest, or indifference. Some were holding hands or had their arms around each other. Bett looked away, and the dream scene shifted. Now she was among the girls, holding hands happily and skipping with two others as they made their way to class. One was Emma, the most beautiful girl Bett had ever seen. Then it was just the two of them, alone in one of the dressing areas, standing side by side in front of a mirror, comparing: Bett’s wavy blond hair to Emma’s very curly brown, Bett’s green-blue eyes to Emma’s soft brown. Emma was taller, but Bett stronger, and Bett challenged Emma and they wrestled and she pinned Emma’s arms and straddled her, victorious, until Emma rose up and kissed her and she let go in shock and Emma ran laughing…until Bett caught her easily. She got another kiss for her effort.

  And then, she was on the phone with her father.

  Emma says she’ll have a title someday, she said to him, unable to stop smiling at the vision of Emma dancing in the hallway outside. Can I have one, too?

  You already have a title, he snapped. Rich.

  In her dream, the click of the phone turned into the click of a door latch and Bett walked through, older and returning to school after one summer back in California. Suddenly everyone was laughing at her when she tried to hold hands with Emma because they’d reached some age, some barrier and there was to be no more physical contact, even though Bett still wanted it so. Luckily no one else seemed aware that she had this need, this desire, and so they all remained friends in and out of class, studying, while Bett learned to control her emotions. She desperately wanted to be satisfied with the casual brush of Emma’s shoulder as they walked to class together or a silly touching of toes when they stretched out on opposite ends of the big couch in the common room. She tried to imagine a future with Emma—with them both working in London, perhaps, and sharing a flat—because she didn’t quite know how to imagine a world without her.

  Then her dream flooded with music. They were at a dance with boys from the Hadbury School. Bett smiled and danced every time she was asked, but not one of the boys ever made her feel the way she did with Emma. Bett watched herself avoiding those boys with more adventurous hands and offering a simple kiss to those who were nice enough not to press her, not to embarrass her with declarations of undying love or not to try and arouse her with coarse suggestions of lust. A sharp hurt tore her heart as Emma danced close with one boy, and Bett took a cup of punch from an unseen hand in the hopes of soothing the hot ache in her stomach when Emma returned holding another’s hand after a walk in the darkened garden, her lipstick smeared and a dreamy smile on her face.

  The dream shifted from the dance to Emma’s home, Werborne Manor. Bett stopped going back to the States for holidays, but Emma’s parents and her handsome brother William made her feel like family. In the darkness of her room she listened to the creaks and moans echoing as the big old house seemed to expand, until finding Emma’s room felt like making her way through an endless maze. She was never so grateful as when Emma opened her bedroom door and her bed to Bett’s knock that first night, and each time she prayed that Emma would never wonder why, after all these years, she was still afraid to sleep by herself there. She never rested well when sleeping with Emma, of course. Because she had to wait for Emma’s breathing to become regular and slow before she could move closer, hoping that Emma would throw a dreaming arm across her or that she could pretend to do the same, and then to watch for the lightening of the sky in the morning as a notice to move away.

  At the sound of someone announcing her name, she was back at school. She had done well—the best in her class—and Emma was hugging her and Bett was happy but longing for something…more. Then it was the last holiday from school—Easter—with graduation coming in just two short months, and they were together at Emma’s house as usual and it might have been the wine they were allowed to have with dinner, the champagne toasts with dessert to celebrate their upcoming graduation, that gave Bett the courage to put her arm around Emma while they were both still awake and kiss her neck and her back until Emma turned over and said into Bett’s eyes, I know you want this—more than I do, and they were kissing and touching so wonderfully. Soft lips, warm downy hair, wet hot soaring falling shuddering closeness that Bett never wanted to end. Her fears for the next night vanished as Emma—even though she drank more wine with dinner—took the lead this time. And even though Emma’s passion felt almost like anger at times, Bett responded to her every wild move, every rough touch, and every hard kiss. Then, just as suddenly, it was over. In the Prossers’ big black car on the way back to school, Bett tried to reach across the seat for Emma’s hand. Emma moved away, putting her hand in her lap as she looked out the window for a moment. She turned her head back to check the mirror, checking for their chauffeur’s eyes, and then she whispered, No, Bett. Never again. I can’t. I’m sorry.

  Then she was on the bench outside the nurse’s office, sobbing. A week had passed and she couldn’t stop the feelings, like being slowly cut into pieces by a dull knife. There must be something they could give her, something that would make her like the others. Something to make this horrible suffering go away, the wanting…and the shame. She knew she should be ashamed because no one knew what had happened between her and Emma, which meant Emma hadn’t said anything, Emma, who never kept secrets well. This must be completely unlike a matter of casual gossip, something too awful to tell. As if proving the point, a classmate, Catherine, passed by. What’s wrong with you then, Pratt? she asked disinterestedly, and Bett realized that she couldn’t tell her, couldn’t ever tell anyone, and she pushed by on her way outside to run, run through the drenching English rain until she accepted there was no cure for what was wrong with her.

  When Bett awoke on her bunk, she realized the rain of her dream was actually tears. She dried them with the soft white handkerchief that she had clasped tightly in her hand. The truth was that dozens of other women over eight years and thousands of miles from Emma had not completely healed her. Would Gale Rains want such damaged goods? Then she thought of the times that she had seen through Rains’s formal veneer to the glimpses of sadness and pain in the depths of her eyes. Perhaps Rains had personal reasons as well as official ones for keeping herself unavailable. Burrowing into her pillow the way she always did when thinking of Rains, she decided, All right, Rains. I’m willing to try it again, if you are. In the last stages of her deepest sleep, just before reveille, she was certain she heard that low, melodic voice whispering close to her ear, Oh yes.

  *

  Rains remembered a story she once heard from a tribal elder about a place where time went backward. Sometimes she felt she was in that place now. She worked with the platoon as usual during morning exercise, but it took two days before she felt she had garnered the restraint to visit the barracks, knowing she would have to see Bett lying on her bed and smell her scent as she passed by. She forced her mind to concentrate on the accomplishments of her other recruits, and she felt a warm pride especially for Charlotte, who had passed her fitness test with flying colors, and especially for Teresa, whose stutter had improved tremendously.

  When Helen was finally scheduled for release from the stockade, Rains heard the squad members planning a reunion lunch. Maria was showing off the small trophy she’d acquired and how she’d reworked the base to include Helen’s name and the date of her fight, September 28, 1944, with big letters below that read TKO. There was much laughter and teasing but everyone expected that Helen would be very pleased with her memento.

  They were well into their celebration when Sergeant Rains entered the mess hall with Sergeant Moore. The bruising around Moore’s eyes was starting to fade but she still wore a bandage on her nose. They stopped by
the squad’s table, and Moore snapped her fingers and said in a loud voice, “Get my food, squaw.”

  Rains stiffened and stepped closer to her. “I have told you this before, Sergeant. That word does not mean what you seem to think it does. It is extremely offensive, and such abuse was not part of our arrangement.”

  Sergeant Rains’s voice was tight and low, but Bett heard her response. For a few seconds, Moore looked like she might argue, but Rains’s eyes never wavered from hers and finally, the ruddy-faced woman looked away.

  “I’m getting hun-gry,” she sang in a taunting tone, and there was laughter from the officers’ table. Rains turned away without another word, picked up a tray, and begin loading it with food. Moore sauntered over and sat with the rest of the officers, a few of whom, Bett noted, were grinning widely. One man, a major, even moved closer, patting Moore on the shoulder as he sat. A few more looked offended and two women—both captains—got up and left the table.

  Jo turned to Bett with a shocked expression on her face. “Why would Sergeant Rains be waiting on that woman?”

  There was a moment of silence as everyone else tried to come up with a plausible explanation. Then Tee’s quiet voice filled the void. “For Helen. She’s doing it so Sergeant Moore won’t p-press charges.” She glanced at the group and then focused on Helen. “To get you out in time to graduate with the rest of us.”

  Helen stared at her. “What? How do you know that?”

  Tee looked down as she took in a breath. “I overheard them talking one day when I was coming to see you. And Sergeant Rains has to clean Moore’s room.” She leaned in and her voice quieted. Those farthest away leaned toward her. “Even the t-toilet.”

  As everyone else shivered in disgust, Helen started to stand up, her fists clenched. “Oh no,” she began, fury on her face. “This is not going to happen.”

  Several pairs of hands pulled her back down just in time to avoid being seen by several officers who looked over at the sound. “Helen,” Bett said in a sharp whisper, “it’s already happening. You getting in more trouble again now will only make things worse.”