Sew in Love

by Debby Lee

  What was he looking for?

  Something to read, that’s right.

  Perhaps if he couldn’t find the newspaper, he could find a copy of The Maltese Falcon. He’d heard the author, Dashiell Hammett, was the editor of a local paper, the Adakian, but Irving had yet to meet the man.

  He hadn’t shuffled more than three steps when the wail of ambulances punctuated the cold night air. He shivered.

  An army doctor bolted from his office, rubbing sleep from his eyes with one hand and clutching a medical bag in the other. Nurse Colleen grabbed a sweater. They shouted orders at a candy striper and then disappeared out the front door, presumably to meet the ambulances.

  Irving plunked down on his bed. Frisco sat up and stared at him with wide eyes. Neither of them uttered a word, but Irving knew his comrade must be thinking what he was.

  Had the Japanese decided to retake the Aleutian Island chain? Had one of the many ships dotting the harbor encountered the enemy? Or had some freak accident happened on the base?

  He didn’t have the answers, but one thing he did know. More wounded were coming in.

  Chapter 5

  Working ten-hour days at piecing parachutes together, the week had passed quickly. It was Saturday once again, and Stella longed to visit the hospital ward.

  First, she wanted to work on the latest quilt. Hours later, after spending the morning sewing, Stella noticed Mama looked weary.

  She placed a hand on her mother’s arm. “You’ve been working so hard. Why don’t you go rest for a spell?”

  “A nap does sound good.” Mama set her quilt block in her basket.

  “Here, let me help you.” Stella grasped her mother’s hands and pulled her up. She helped her onto the rickety bed in the small room off the dining area. Relief went through her when her mother was all tucked in.

  “While you’re resting, I’m going for a walk. I’ll check the pharmacy to see if more iron pills have come in, maybe stop at the hospital.” Stella fluffed the small pillow.

  “Thank you.” Mama closed her eyes.

  Quietly, Stella padded back into the main room. She added more wood to the fire and reached for a book. It was visiting hours at the hospital, and she felt the need to be there. Captain Morgenstern might need her to write a letter for him or help him comb his hair or, well, anything, actually.

  Was she making excuses to see him? No, she assured herself, she wanted to be there for all the soldiers. She needed to ask Colleen if she’d acquired any scraps of material from the hospital, bits of old uniforms or worn-out nurses’ aprons. On her way back home she could stop by the pharmacy and maybe the beach for more driftwood.

  Stella wrapped her scarf around her neck and stepped outside, thinking about the captain and how nice it would be to see him. Now that he was getting his strength back, he was able to take short walks around the hospital, or so she’d heard from Colleen. The brisk wind did nothing to cool the warmth flooding into her cheeks.

  Later, Stella ignored the unpleasant smells as she stepped into the hospital ward. Colleen, who was busy taking a soldier’s blood pressure, looked up and waved.

  “I brought a copy of A Farewell to Arms, by Ernest Hemingway.” Stella held the book up for all the soldiers to see. Many of them cheered.

  At home, she was reading Gone with the Wind to her mother. They had gotten to the part where the character Melanie was nursing all the wounded men with kindness and compassion. In the movie Melanie said that she cared for the wounded soldiers the way she hoped another woman would care for her Ashley if he were wounded.

  Stella wanted to be like Melanie. One of these wounded men could be her father. This way of thinking made her more determined than ever to be there for the soldiers. These men had family at home. Family that prayed their son, brother, or husband was being well cared for. Stella hoped someone would take good care of her father if he were injured.

  Two men, one blond and one redheaded, occupied beds close to where Stella stood. “I haven’t seen you men here before. What happened?”

  “We had an accident on our ship last night, but never mind about that. Would you like to sit here, please?” the blond man asked.

  Stella made it only one step toward the chair between the two men before Captain Morgenstern called and waved her over. “Miss McGovern, you can sit here and read.”

  “Aw, Captain,” the redhead protested. “We asked her first.”

  “Hey now,” Irving said. “Last time I checked, captain was a higher rank than corporal.”

  “You pulling rank on us?” the blond asked.

  Nurse Colleen laughed, and Stella did her best to keep her composure. “I have an idea,” she said. “I can read one chapter while sitting next to each one of you. I’ll start at one side of the room and work my way around.”

  “As long as the chapter you read while sitting next to me is a really long one.” Irving flashed a lopsided grin at her.

  So, the man was not only handsome, but he had a sense of humor too. Stella’s stomach suddenly felt like jelly. She sauntered over to the chair next to the first bed and sat. She opened the book and began on page one.

  When she finished the first chapter introducing an Italian ambulance driver and a lovely English nurse, she moved to sit beside the man in the next bed. Time passed as she moved around the room, and before she knew it, she had almost half the book read. One more afternoon and she’d finish it. She’d have to stop at the library for another.

  She stood. “Sorry, I have to get home now.” Worry about her mother clouded her mind. She’d have to hurry if she was to make it to the pharmacy before it closed.

  “Will you be back tomorrow?” Irving asked.

  “Yes, but it won’t take me long to finish reading this book to you, and I’m afraid I don’t have another book, unless you all want to hear Gone with the Wind. I’m reading it to my mother, and I’m getting quite adept at the voices.”

  “I’ll put up with a sappy love story if it brings you back here.” The red-haired soldier gleamed at her with enough stars in his eyes to illuminate the entire military base on a moonless night. The poor man was outvoted, though, as everyone else in the ward vehemently objected to the tales of Scarlett O’Hara.

  “Miss McGovern.” Captain Morgenstern rolled his eyes. “Ma made me take my sisters to see that movie when it came to town. They cried enough tears to fill the rain barrel behind the house.”

  Stella laid a hand over her mouth to stifle a giggle.

  Irving continued. “Pearl Harbor happened two days later, and they cried all over again. Of course that was good reason to cry, but all the same, and I mean no offense, I’ve seen enough of ladies crying to last me a lifetime.”

  Admiration for his chivalry had Stella swallowing hard and blinking back her own tears, lest she upset the poor man. Then she had an idea. “Maybe I’ll bring my sewing to help pass the time so I can visit with you all and get to know you better.”

  “What do you sew?” Irving asked.

  Stella allowed a smile to play across her lips. “My mother and I make quilts from scraps of material, and we donate them to the wounded soldiers here.”

  “That’s very noble of you,” Irving said. “Where do you get the material?”

  “Bits of worn-out or torn clothing, whatever we can find. We waste nothing,” Stella replied. She noticed the gleam in his blue eyes. Could a handsome pilot of a bomber plane really be interested in her sewing?

  Stella added, “It gives my mother something to do, something that makes her feel useful. Maybe next time I come, I’ll bring her with me. I’m sure you’d all love to meet her.”

  Irving continued, “Ma and my sisters sewed. Times were hard growing up. We had to sew if we wanted clothes to wear. I’m not too proud to admit I wore a pair of flour-sack pajamas when I was ten years old. I helped my ma make them too.”

  “Each one of my sisters wore at least one flour-sack dress growing up,” another man said. “We’d be honored to have your mother come
visit us while she sews.”

  The rest of the men agreed. Stella warmed inside and fought the urge to cry. Mama would love this.

  Irving motioned her to his bed.

  Stella moved and sat on the edge. “Yes, Captain?”

  He motioned for her to lean in. “Would you like to go for a walk with me tomorrow? There isn’t a whole lot to see around here, but I think some time alone would be nice.”

  Her heart revved like a jeep in high gear. She put her hand on his arm, shocked at her forwardness. Lord, what would Mama say? When he covered her hand with his and gave it a squeeze, she had to clear her throat before answering his question.

  “Yes, I’d like that.”

  Colleen entered the ward at that moment and announced it was dinnertime. She pushed a cart loaded with trays of fried Spam and potatoes.

  “Yum,” she said, rubbing her stomach, and hoping to remain upbeat. “That smells delicious. You guys sure get fed well here.”

  Stella cast another glance at the captain. His features darkened.

  Had she said something that upset him?

  Irving watched her go, his heart tugging. He’d asked her to go for a walk with him, but what did he have to offer her? If they weren’t in the middle of a war, he’d take her to a nice dinner, one where Spam wasn’t being served as an appetizer, main course, and dessert all in the same meal.

  Irving didn’t really think one could create a dessert from Spam, but best not give the cook any ideas.

  He picked at the tray in front of him. At least it was food in the belly. He said a prayer of thanks, for the food and the fact he could hold a fork. He shoveled food into his mouth more gracefully than he had in a long time.

  How much longer could this war last? Now that he was recovering, he thought about going back up into the skies and finishing the job he’d begun the night the crash had taken place.

  As if on cue, three-star General Valens marched into the room, followed by an entourage of military aides and underlings. Irving’s buddy Jack entered the ward a moment later wearing a somber expression. Jack leaned against the wall and folded his arms across his chest.

  Normally, his friend was a party boy and quite the ladies’ man. Jack and General Valens often disagreed on things, to say the least. But Jack’s mood was more dour than usual. Something didn’t seem quite right.

  Irving watched the general move from bed to bed, shaking hands and saluting each man he spoke with.

  The general stepped in front of Irving’s bed. A sick feeling lurched in Irving’s stomach when the man saluted, and it had nothing to do with his umpteenth meal of Spam. He returned the salute, not quite sure what to say.

  “Your country thanks you for your service, Captain,” the general said. “How long before you’re ready to fly again?”

  “It’s only been a few weeks since the crash. My hands are still bandaged, albeit loosely, as a precaution against germs.”

  “Yes, you must be proud to be wounded for your country. You’ll get a Purple Heart for your injuries and be ready to go up again.”

  “I’d feel better if the doc okayed me to fly.” Irving wasn’t sure he liked where the conversation was headed.

  The general furrowed his brows and emitted a deep sigh before he continued. “The war is winding down, as you must know, and the enemy is throwing everything they have at us. We need you, your country needs you, in the skies, son. So I’ll ask you again, how long before you’re ready to fly?”

  Irving swallowed hard. He sat a bit higher in his bed. “Just give me another week, sir, for my hands and fingers to finish healing, and I’ll be ready, with or without the doctor’s okay.”

  “You’re a brave pilot, Captain.” The general saluted again and made his way to the next wounded soldier.

  What was the quickest way to get dexterity back into his hands and fingers? Stella said she’d bring her sewing with her on her next visit. Maybe he could help her with it. Spending more time with her was certainly good medicine, in his opinion anyway.

  Another wave of sickness rolled through his stomach that had nothing to do with the side effects of the sulfa powder medicine. Was it fair to pursue her, to allow a relationship to blossom between them, only for him to get shot down and possibly killed?

  Chapter 6

  In the waning daylight, Stella left the hospital with her copy of The Keys of the Kingdom and stepped quickly toward the pharmacy on the base.

  Every day for the past week, after she’d finished her shift at the parachute factory, she’d gone to read to the men at the hospital. Irving was able to get up and take short walks. They strolled to the cafeteria and back, and on warm days they sat in the lounge area outside the hospital and basked in the sunshine.

  This afternoon, he told her about his mother and sisters and what wonderful cooks they all were. She told him about her father and the blue house they’d once lived in.

  Stella said, “Someday, when you’re well enough, I’ll take you to see it.”

  “I’d like that,” he replied, giving her hand a squeeze.

  The rest of the afternoon passed as they listened to the birds cawing and the wind blowing over the landscape.

  A short time later, Irving’s dinner arrived. Stella left the hospital, promising to be back the next day.

  On her way home, she intended to stop and pick up her mother’s medicine; if she had time, she planned to stop at the post exchange to see if any material or sewing supplies had come in.

  She walked past the blue house but didn’t take the time to stop and daydream like she usually did. The dreams kept hope alive in her, that Papa would come home soon, that rationing would end soon and Mama would have more food. But those same dreams, if she pondered them for too long, kept her from doing work that needed done.

  The door to the pharmacy swung open, and she nearly bumped into Mr. Hapsock as he exited the building. The grim lines carving a frown on his grizzled face stirred pity in her.

  Hoping to lighten the burden he carried, she said, “Evening, Mr. Hapsock, I hope you’re doing all right.”

  The man emitted a low grumble and walked on without a word. Stella ached for him and his family. At least she and Mama had proof that Papa was alive. And they knew where he was. That was more than Mr. Hapsock and his family had.

  More men were being trained and prepared to invade Japan. It made Stella’s heart twist with worry. How many more had to be wounded, or worse, die?

  “Lord,” she prayed as she stepped into the pharmacy, “please give the family the answers they’re looking for and peace of mind in the meantime.”

  The pharmacist gave Stella the bottle of iron pills. Checking the time, she hurried out the door. If she ran, she could make it to the post exchange before it closed.

  Five minutes later, huffing for breath, Stella burst into the store.

  The clerk rolled his eyes at her and smiled. “Ten minutes until we close, miss. You made it just in time.”

  “I heard you received another shipment of goods from Seattle. Has any material come in?”

  “Sorry.” The clerk shook his head. “We got 241 cases of Spam and 100 cases of powdered eggs.”

  “How about some thread, or any other sewing supplies?” Stella asked, still hopeful.

  “We also got 300 rolls of bandages, 100 rolls of toilet paper, a pair of roller skates, and 5 rolls of Christmas wrapping paper.”

  “Christmas paper? Memorial Day is next Monday, and then it’s June!”

  “Hey, lady, I don’t order the stuff; the supply officer does that. I just take inventory on what comes in and sell it the best I can.”

  Stella stifled a groan and silently questioned the wisdom of the supply officer.

  “If it’s any consolation, the Christmas wrapping has really cute pictures of Donald Duck on it.”

  With stationery and other products in such short supply, she contemplated using the Christmas paper to write letters to Papa. What would he think of getting mail from home with Donald
Duck all over it? Of course he wouldn’t care. News from home would be welcomed no matter what it was written on. One couldn’t be picky when items were in such short supply.

  “I’ll take one roll, please,” Stella told the clerk.

  The young man tallied up her order. She paid for it and exited the store. On the way home she combed the beach for some driftwood to burn that night for warmth. Even in late spring, she was surprised how cold it was. Maybe she could talk her mother into keeping one of the quilts they made. That would help keep her warm at night. And if the war was almost over and all the soldiers went home, maybe there wouldn’t be such a demand for them.

  Stella stepped through the front door to see Mama standing at the stove stirring a pot of something that smelled good. Vegetables rested on the cutting board, and she was putting some kind of meat in the icebox. Where had Mama gotten that?

  Stella dropped an armload of wood into the woodbox and asked, “Is that beef I smell?”

  “It sure is. Your friend Mary dropped it off along with a necklace she made for you. The girl does such lovely beadwork.”

  “But where did Mary get the meat?” Stella shook her head, perplexed.

  “Now that the war is over in Europe, the army is preparing the men to invade Japan. That includes feeding them well. Not only is it good for their morale, but they need fattened up to shore them through the hard times ahead.”

  “So Mary’s father butchered their only cow.”

  “Yes, and he’s dropping the meat off at the hospital tomorrow.”

  “And Mary brought over a little bit for us?” Boy, wouldn’t the men all but do cartwheels at a meal containing beef instead of Spam.

  Mama nodded and smiled. Actually smiled. She hadn’t done that for so long. But the bittersweetness of it wasn’t lost on Stella. It made her chest squeeze tight.