The Girls of Pearl Harbor

by Lane, Soraya M.

  Tears were silently dripping down her cheeks, some of them curling into her mouth, tasting like salt as she caught them with her tongue. All these months she’d been desperate to cry, to just feel something instead of being numb, and it had taken the worst patient in history to finally push her over the edge. She’d thought she was okay with Arthur, that he at least respected her enough to let her do his work, but he was just bullying her all over again, and she wasn’t going to accept it, especially not on Charlie’s birthday!

  ‘Leave me,’ Arthur said, but his voice lacked weight this time. ‘Just leave me.’

  ‘No!’ she snapped, marching over to the wheelchair she’d had sitting there waiting for him, the chair that he’d refused to use. ‘You’re getting in here today whether you like it or not.’

  He stared at her, and she stared straight back at him. All her anger and all her frustrations were pouring from her as if from a cloud finally bursting with rain.

  ‘I saved you. I sat beside you. I cared for you,’ she huffed, yanking back his sheets as she ranted. ‘I refused to let you die, and I didn’t do that to let you sit here and rot!’

  For the first time, he didn’t snap back at her. He just stared, wide eyed, as she gestured at the wheelchair. She probably looked like a madwoman, flinging her arms around and verbally assaulting him, but she didn’t care. She was not going to see a capable, strong, handsome man wither away and die just because he wouldn’t try.

  ‘Get in,’ she ordered, holding his arm and preparing to drag him out of his bed if she had to. ‘Or I can get a corpsman to come and help.’

  ‘I’ll do it,’ he said, his words low as he pushed himself up into a straight sitting position. ‘I don’t need your help.’

  She hesitated, her anger slipping away as he lifted up, grunting with the effort and shuffling over to the side of the bed. He was using his leg, which was almost completely healed now, doing what he should have been trying to do weeks ago. She quickly reached out, grabbing his arm as he slipped.

  ‘Let go of me!’ he snapped. ‘I said I’ll do it.’

  Eva recoiled, breathing a sigh of relief as he lowered himself, almost in the chair, almost safe.

  No!

  Eva lunged forward just as Arthur tipped forward, grabbing at him and tripping over the tilted chair as he crashed toward the ground. She half broke his fall, but even without one leg he was a big man, much too heavy for her to catch on her own.

  They landed with a thump, her breath punching out of her lungs, winded as she lay in a tangled mess with Arthur.

  ‘Get the hell away from me!’ he yelled. ‘This is all your fault!’

  ‘My fault?’ she gasped, shoving at him, her hands to his chest as she pushed him back, all sympathy she’d felt for him disappearing. ‘My fault?’ she repeated, louder this time.

  He glared at her.

  ‘This is all your fault,’ she screamed. ‘It’s your fault that you’ve been stuck in that bed for months, acting like a spoiled, petulant child!’ Hysteria took over, rising inside of her, and she wished she could clasp her fingers around his neck and strangle him. ‘You think losing a leg is the worst thing in the world? My Charlie would have done anything to live, but he’s dead, Arthur. Dead!’ she yelled. ‘As in never coming back!’

  Arthur didn’t move. His eyes fixed on hers, staring at her as if he were seeing her for the first time.

  ‘I would have done anything to keep him alive,’ she whispered, her voice cracking. ‘I wouldn’t have cared if he didn’t have either of his legs; I just wish he’d lived. Do you hear me? I wish he’d lived.’

  She choked on a wave of tears, her eyes blurred as hands tucked beneath her arms and pulled her up, her throat hot as she sobbed.

  ‘I hate you!’ she whispered, looking at Arthur on the floor, barely able to make out his face through her tears. ‘I hate you.’

  ‘Shhh,’ the person holding her said, drawing her closer. ‘Shhh, come on; let’s go.’

  Eva turned and saw Grace, her smile kind as she led her out of the hospital, holding her tight to her side as they walked down rows of beds until they were out in the fresh air. Emotion shattered her body like glass breaking into shards, tears engulfing her as she leaned into Grace, sinking to the ground outside their tent when they finally reached it.

  ‘What’s going on?’ she heard April say.

  But she couldn’t even see her. Her eyes were too clouded, her heart too broken.

  ‘I need to go back,’ Grace said. ‘Can you look after her?’

  A fresh set of arms embraced Eva, and she clung to April’s familiar shoulders as her body heaved, the tears still a flood that she hadn’t a hope of stopping.

  ‘This has been a long time coming,’ April whispered. ‘Let it all out. Tomorrow’s a new day, but today you need to grieve.’

  She stumbled to her feet with April’s help and let her tuck her into bed, keeping hold of her friend’s hand, fingers locked around hers, as she finally accepted what had happened.

  Charlie’s dead. And no amount of denying it is ever going to bring him back.

  It had been three days since she’d seen Arthur. Three days since she’d cracked into a million pieces and wondered how she’d ever manage to put herself back together. But somehow she had, and now she needed to apologize to Arthur for the way she’d treated him.

  She saw his familiar silhouette propped up in bed, but she balked at the sight of the wheelchair beside it; it was a reminder of what had happened, which she’d rather not be reminded of.

  ‘Arthur,’ she said hesitantly as she approached his bed. ‘Arthur, I was hoping to have a word.’

  Arthur slowly turned, his eyes flickering over hers and staying there. She could hardly remember what she’d planned to say; since when did Arthur ever turn when she addressed him?

  She opened her mouth, but nothing came out. Why was he looking at her? He never looked at her. His eyes were bright, the blue reminding her of that day she’d helped to carry him, staring into them, his gaze pleading with her. She’d thought then that he wanted to live, that there was a reason she’d found him, but ever since then all he’d done was resent her for saving his life.

  ‘I want to say sorry for my behavior the other day,’ she finally said. ‘I understand if you’d like to make a formal complaint about me. I should have shown you patience, care, and understanding, and instead I treated you terribly. I hope you can forgive me.’

  ‘You were right.’ His voice was husky, as if the words were hard to find.

  She startled, taking a step closer. ‘I was?’

  ‘I deserved everything you said to me. You had the patience of a saint being nice to me for so long.’

  Eva had no idea what to say, so she just kept her mouth shut.

  Arthur let out a big sigh and slowly raised his hand. ‘I’m not great at apologies, so can we just start over?’

  Eva wished she had the nerve to say no and make him apologize, but this was the man who’d refused to communicate with her, except to shout, scream, or throw things at her, so she wasn’t about to look a gift horse in the mouth.

  She followed his lead and lifted her hand, too, shuffling closer so he could clasp her palm.

  ‘My friends all call me Art, and I’d like you to do the same,’ he said slowly.

  ‘Well,’ she said, taken aback at the change in him. ‘I’m Eva. You might have missed my name with all the yelling at me.’

  He cringed. ‘I’m sorry.’

  ‘Oh, so you can apologize!’ She didn’t bother suppressing her laugh, and to her surprise Art joined in. ‘You know, that’s the first time I’ve ever seen you smile,’ she said quietly.

  He nodded. ‘I’d almost forgotten how to do it.’

  They stayed silent for a moment, both staring, as if they were seeing each other for the first time. Eva studied every inch of his face, noticing how pale he looked. But despite everything, he was still one of the most handsome men she’d ever seen, even with a scruffy bear
d that had grown over the weeks he’d been in the hospital; she was almost too scared to see how hollow his cheekbones had become beneath the hair.

  ‘Can I get you something to eat?’ Eva asked. ‘Since you’ve taken up smiling again, maybe you’d like to take up eating too?’

  Art laughed, and this time it was a deep belly laugh, the kind of laugh her Charlie had had.

  ‘Thank you, Eva, that’d be nice.’

  She stepped closer and hesitantly lifted her fingers to touch his cheek, fingers quivering as she gently brushed against his skin. ‘Then I’d like to shave you, if you’d let me,’ she murmured. ‘Or if you don’t want me to do it, I can get one of the men . . .’

  His eyes shut, and she hoped he wasn’t in pain. But then they opened, and a faint smile spread across his lips again. ‘Thank you; that’d be nice.’

  ‘Promise you won’t throw the water and soap at me when I come back, though?’ she teased, hoping she wasn’t pushing too far. But his chuckle told her that she’d been right to joke.

  ‘I promise,’ he said solemnly. ‘And maybe I’ll even let you help me into that god-ugly wheelchair so I can feel the sun on my face too.’

  She froze. ‘You will?’

  ‘Yeah, if you promise not to drop me this time.’

  They both grinned, and she shook her head as she walked away. Either Arthur had hit his head on the floor the other day or someone had switched patients with her, because there was no way that was the same man who’d made her life hell for so long.

  She passed Dr. Evans on her way to get supplies, and he winked as he strode by. ‘You look mighty happy today, Eva.’

  ‘I am. It’s a good day today, Dr. Evans.’

  He stopped, turned, and walked slowly backward. ‘This happen to have something to do with Arthur?’

  ‘What do you know about Arthur?’ she asked.

  ‘I know that he’s a man who should be thanking his lucky stars that some brave nurses saved him, instead of acting like his life is over.’

  ‘You said that to him, didn’t you? I thought it was the bump to his head that had changed him, but now I’m thinking I was wrong.’

  He shrugged. ‘Perhaps I did.’

  Eva stepped toward him and kissed his cheek. ‘Thank you, Dr. Evans. Thank you, thank you, thank you.’

  He laughed and kept on walking, and she hurried to get all the things she needed, terrified that Arthur might lose his good humor if she took too long.

  When she returned, she approached the bed quietly, pleased she hadn’t been called away to tend to any new traumas. He was staring at the wall again, and it took all her courage to say his name.

  ‘Arthur?’

  He didn’t turn right away, and she held her breath, waiting for the explosion, waiting to find out that she’d imagined their little exchange earlier. But he slowly turned, and she let her breath go as he looked at her.

  ‘Would you like me to sit up or lie back?’ he asked.

  She shrugged. ‘I’m not exactly used to shaving men, but maybe sitting?’

  He groaned. ‘Maybe you should hold the mirror, and I’ll do it myself, then.’

  Eva ignored him and placed the dish of warm water and soap on the table by his bed, then moved a stool closer to sit on before gently soaping his face and picking up the blade. She wasn’t fazed about shaving him, as she had a steady hand with all her nursing duties, but it was being close to him that scared her the most. As she leaned into him, staring at his face and slowly dragging the razor across his skin, she smiled. Or perhaps she wasn’t scared at all; perhaps she’d been craving the contact. It was starting to feel like a long time since she’d truly touched someone or been touched in return.

  ‘Tell me about your fiancé,’ he said quietly when she paused to wipe part of his face with a towel. ‘You said you’d lost him?’

  ‘Yes,’ she said. ‘I lost my Charlie in Pearl Harbor. He was a pilot.’

  Art stayed quiet as she worked the blade across his chin.

  ‘He was desperate to go to Europe and fight before America even joined the war, but I made him stay. I refused to let him go, and then he died before we’d even declared we were at war.’

  She stopped and looked at Art, feeling his eyes on hers.

  ‘He wanted to join the Eagles?’ he asked.

  She nodded. ‘He did. Desperately, in fact.’

  Art closed his mouth, waiting for her to start again, but she didn’t.

  ‘One of your friends, they mentioned you’d been an Eagle. Is it true?’

  He shut his eyes. ‘I was one of the pilots who left home and joined them when we’d been forbidden to,’ he said. ‘I defied orders and went to England, and then when we joined the war, I regrouped with my old squadron again.’

  Eva’s chin wobbled as she fought the emotion bubbling inside of her. Tears escaped from her eyes, and she couldn’t stop them. One fell to Art’s face, and she quickly tried to wipe it away, but his fingers around her wrist stopped her. She saw tears in his gaze, too, knew instinctively that he’d been fighting his own battles all this time, that he’d refused to cry just like she had. Had been unable to let it all out, no matter how much he might have wanted to.

  ‘I’m sorry, Eva,’ he whispered. ‘I’m truly sorry for your loss.’

  Her tears kept spilling, but she didn’t try to hide them this time. ‘Me too,’ she whispered back. ‘Me too.’

  Art’s hand fell away then, and she finished shaving him, not brave enough to try to talk again. But when she finished and set the razor down, giving his face one final wipe down with the towel, she finally cleared her throat.

  ‘You ready to try out that wheelchair yet? Because I need to get out of here, and I’d rather be with you than on my own.’

  Art pushed himself up properly and wiped at his own eyes, his smile warming her in a way she hadn’t warmed in a very long time.

  ‘I thought you were never going to ask.’

  ‘Take me back,’ he barked less than an hour later, his voice croaky as he gripped the sides of the chair with both hands and pressed back into the seat. ‘Eva, take me back now!’

  She took a deep breath, hearing the familiar angry tone in Arthur’s voice.

  ‘Art, listen to me,’ she said, trying to keep her voice as low and soft as she could. ‘You’re going to be fine. Just trust me.’

  ‘Trusting you got me into this mess!’

  He spun around in the seat, and her heart almost broke when she saw the terror in his gaze.

  ‘I thought I could do this, but I can’t,’ he said. ‘Take me back.’

  Eva gritted her teeth and pushed hard on the wheelchair, propelling it forward with a grunt, his weight heavier than she’d anticipated. ‘Sit still and just breathe,’ she ordered.

  He started to complain again, but she refused to listen, pushing him through the last part of the ward and nodding her thanks when one of the corpsmen opened and held the door for her.

  ‘It’s going to feel a little bumpy here until we get onto the grass,’ she said, huffing as she kept the wheelchair moving.

  ‘Eva, please,’ he begged, reminding her of a little boy trying to convince his mother to listen to him. ‘I can’t do this—I can’t balance. I just can’t.’

  ‘You can,’ she said, exhaling when the chair finally became easier to move, ‘and you are.’

  She pushed a bit farther, stopping only when they were far enough away from the hospital that he wouldn’t ask to be pushed straight back.

  ‘How does that feel?’ she asked, leaning against the chair and watching as he lifted his face, eyes shut, basking like a cat in the sun.

  He didn’t answer right away, but when he finally opened his mouth, a slow smile spread across his lips. ‘It feels good.’

  She sat on the ground in front of him, looking at the stump above where his knee would have been, since he had his eyes closed. It was different seeing it outside, because in the hospital he was always beneath a sheet or blanket, and when s
he was checking it, she was so focused on what she was doing that she didn’t actually take the time to think about it. But here, out in the open, in the real world, she could see what had been taken from him. His remaining leg was almost fully healed now, and it was a big leg, hairy and strong, as masculine as could be as it protruded from the blanket, but with scars slicing across it where before she imagined there were no marks. But the space on the other side, where his other leg should have been, told her that nothing about his life could ever be the same again.

  ‘Don’t go feeling sorry for me.’

  Eva looked up, embarrassed that she’d been caught looking at him so openly. ‘I’m sorry; I was just . . .’ She swallowed. ‘I haven’t really seen you like this. Up until now, you’ve just been my patient lying in a bed.’

  ‘And now you’ve realized I’m a useless cripple?’

  She shook her head. ‘No, Art, that’s not what I was thinking.’

  ‘What was it, then?’

  Eva met his gaze, not wanting him to think she wasn’t telling the truth. ‘I was thinking how your life will change, that there are things you won’t be able to do anymore.’ She swallowed as her voice cracked. ‘But as hard as things are going to be in the beginning, I know that one day you’ll be happy that you lived, one leg or not. That’s what I wanted to tell you, right from the beginning; it’s why I waited beside your bed until you woke up.’

  He opened his palms as if to soak up the sun, his head angled upward still. ‘I’ll never fly again,’ he said quietly. ‘I’ll never sit behind the controls of a plane; I’ll never have that feeling of soaring through the sky again.’

  She listened. There was nothing she could say, because he was right.

  ‘I’ll never hold a woman in my arms and dance again.’ He laughed. ‘I was crap at dancing anyway, but I’d literally be all left feet now.’

  She smiled, liking that he was joking about it, but his face became somber almost instantly.

  ‘I’ll never get married and have a family of my own,’ he croaked. ‘I’ll watch my friends live their lives, and I’ll be watching it all from the sidelines.’