Awake Unto Me (19 page)

Kerry was grateful the Grants went to their bedroom soon after supper was over. Beth came to keep her company as she tidied up the kitchen.

“Is this what you want?” Kerry asked tentatively.

Beth looked into the distance and waited for a long time before answering. “Of course it is. It’s a great honor to be asked, I can tell you. The army now admits it needs us. They’re only sending the best civilians overseas. Nurse Reynolds had the pick of whom to take, and she chose me over more experienced nurses. She had to convince Major Owen that I was suitable. It will be much more difficult there.” She went on at length about the challenges ahead. Kerry listened without comment and cleaned dishes.

Beth at last stopped talking and cleared her throat. “Are you happy for me?”

“I want to be. I want you to have what you want. I’m proud that Nurse Reynolds believes in you.”

“There’s something else, though.”

“No, there’s not.”

“You’re unhappy,” Beth stated flatly. “You don’t wish me to go.”’

“It’s not that simple.”

“Explain it to me, then. Tell me what you’re feeling. It’s a worry to me when I can tell you’re unhappy but you won’t explain to me, just as you won’t speak of your childhood.”

I’m in love with you and you don’t know it and I can’t tell you. I don’t know how to tell you. I would like to show you but…
“I worry for your safety and I’ll miss you very much, that’s all.”

“Is that all? Kerry, look at me, please.”

Beth came up behind Kerry, who stood at the sink. Kerry slowly turned around and looked into her eyes. Beth’s expression was concerned and tender, but still Kerry couldn’t say what she wished to say:
I’m in love with you.

Beth touched her cheek, and Kerry gazed at her longingly and covered Beth’s hand with her own hand.

The
Golden Gate
’s
voyage to Manila took three weeks. The medical staff’s time was filled down to the second by Major Owen. He also took charge of their religious devotions in a fashion he wasn’t able to when they were back at the Presidio. They all lived together on board, they had morning and evening prayers, and no one was granted leave to not attend, not even the several staff members who were seasick the first week. The prayer services were thus enlivened by doctors and nurses stumbling out of the salon to vomit over the guardrails of the ship, much to the amusement of the ship’s seasoned navy crew.

To her relief, Beth wasn’t affected, though she found the motion and sounds of the ship disturbed her sleep and also wished more than once for Kerry’s soothing presence next to her in bed. She was indifferent to the religious exercise; her experience with Svenhard ensured that. It was just another duty she had to perform. She was content to attend meetings and lectures and spend a great deal of time stowing and organizing their vast supplies.

The
Golden Gate
was originally a passenger ship. It had been donated to the navy and refitted as a floating hospital in record time. The walls between the staterooms were knocked down and made into wards. Fore and aft were canopied decks for the convalescent soldiers to take fresh air, and the iron bedsteads were bolted to the deck to keep them in place. Each deck had a kitchen and two operating rooms and four wards. Three of the wards were for enlisted men and one was for officers. She had a full navy crew plus the medical staff and a steward and six hospital corpsmen. To Beth and the other staff fresh from the Presidio’s makeshift hospital, it was both luxurious and efficient.

Due to the custom of doctors and nurses being separate most of the time, Beth found herself distanced from Addison, and she missed his gentle company more than she thought she would. He would give her discreet smiles whenever they were together with other staff, almost as though they were secret lovers. Beth was grateful for his silent notice and smiled to herself at the absurdity of the idea of their being lovers. She knew that would be the assumption of her fellow nurses, who noticed his quiet attention to her, and that also made her smile.

During her restless nights, her thoughts turned to Kerry more times than not. She recalled their jaunts to the park and to the Sutro Baths. Kerry’s burning dark eyes stared into hers when she closed her eyes, and her low, slightly hoarse voice echoed in her ears. Between sleep and awakening, she floated on the waters of the Sutro Baths supported by Kerry’s confident hands and strong arms. The memories were a pleasant and comforting refuge with an unexpected edge of bittersweet longing she couldn’t quite understand. Her roommate was quiet and unobtrusive, so Beth was left largely with her own thoughts, which suited her fine She was once again in the midst of gossipy nurses; it reminded her very much of being back in nurses’ training. They were told not to fraternize with the navy crew and could not, by custom, spend time with the doctors. She composed a letter to Kerry she hoped she could mail from Manila.

Dearest Kerry,

We are still on our voyage to the East. Our arrival is expected in a few days. I was not seasick, unlike many others, for which I am grateful. We have had much organizing and unpacking to do. Chief Reynolds, predictably, wants it all done just so. We are cleaning everything yet again, although it was newly painted and clean when we boarded. No germ would dare take hold under Reynolds’s nose, I dare say. The others are a good lot, mostly, but they chatter as all nurses do when they have leisure time, as if there is nothing else to discuss than the vagaries of their compatriots. I keep to myself.

I miss you and hope you are keeping well and enjoying your work at the Palace and the cooks are treating you well.

My fondest and most sincere regards,

Beth

Beth reread the letter. She wanted to say so much more, but she couldn’t find the words. She knew it sounded a bit overformal. She missed Kerry more than she would have predicted and knew she was looking forward to beginning the work for which they had been sent to perform, if only to take her mind off Kerry. They were to care for the casualties of war, and though Beth was only nominally patriotic and had no opinion on the rightness of the cause, she knew there would be people who were hurt or sick, and she wanted to care for them. All else was irrelevant.

Once the
Golden Gate
reached Manila it would be all hands on deck when the casualties started to arrive. Beth had faith in Nurse Reynolds who, during the months on base at the Presidio, had been an excellent chief who showed no favoritism, although Beth knew Reynolds trusted her. Trust she would work hard to merit.

Within a day of docking in Manila, they were overrun with patients. None of the soldiers had apparently received any but the most cursory care before the arrival of the
Golden Gate
. They were neglected, dirty, exhausted, and in some cases, quite ill—more than they needed to be. It was clear their officers had considered their illness a form of laziness.

Nurse Reynolds stood at the gangplank and performed triage as the corpsmen dragged up all the casualties. Beth was assigned, at her request, to the typhoid wards. They saw with grim satisfaction that disease took the greatest toll on the soldiers, not the enemy guns. Beth was again obliged to work two days straight without sleep before being relieved.

She staggered into the mess on the morning of the third day, convinced something to eat would somehow negate the effects of sleep deprivation.

A gray-haired cook fixed his sharp eye on her. “I’ll give you some breakfast, Miss, but I think it’s something else you need. How about a spot of grog?”

Beth was too exhausted to correct him and also didn’t understand that he was referring to whiskey.

He gave her a glass. “Miss, this will help relax you. You’re too tired to sleep, I reckon.”

Beth absentmindedly took a huge gulp, which burned and made her cough. The old salt laughed and pounded her on the back. He brought her biscuits and gravy, which she managed to consume a little of before going back to her room.

The whiskey did relax her, but she fell into bed and tossed and turned in a state of semi-consciousness. Luckily, her stateroom mate was still on duty, else she might have been treated to hearing Beth mumble, “Kerry. Why did you kiss me? It’s a strange thing to do but I do so wish you would again. You look at me with such longing.” Beth played the kiss over and over. She didn’t know what it meant and where it might lead, but her psyche had latched on to it.

*

Chef Henri announced to his kitchen staff that the Palace Hotel was given the honor of hosting President McKinley for his visit to San Francisco. Further, he said, they would be preparing a huge banquet in honor of the occasion where the Mayor of San Francisco, the Commandant of the Presidio, General Merritt, and many other personages would dine with the President. Chef would plan the meal and all cooks’ labors would be needed. He added that his sou
s
-chef, Jim, would be assigned to make the demi-glace for the
boeuf bourguignon
, a task that Chef generally reserved for himself because it had to be absolutely perfect.

“This time, it will be up to
Monsieur
Jeem, because in him I have the utmost confidence, and I will be too busy with the rest of the meal.”

Jim looked around at the other cooks with a superior smirk.

“I will, furthermore, entertain the idea of allowing one of you to prepare a special dish for
le Président
, but you will compete for the honor.” The five line cooks looked around uneasily at one another. Only Kerry kept her eyes fixed on Chef Henri.

“Yes, Chef,” they chorused.

After Chef left the kitchen, Jim leaned back against a table, crossed his arms, and said in a bored tone, “Which one of you no-accounts thinks he,” and he aimed a spiteful glance at Kerry, “or she, or whatever you are, can impress Chef?”

No one said a word. They weren’t only bored with Jim’s single-minded harassment of Kerry, they were tired of his tyrannical ways with all of them.

“Hah. I thought not.” He left the kitchen on some mysterious errand as usual. Kerry and Davey went out back to the garbage pit and, standing upwind of it, smoked a cigarette and conversed in whispers, sharing thoughts on what they might prepare.

“Do you want to get back at him?” Davey asked, clearly referring to the egg-white-in-the-fryer incident.

She looked at him suspiciously and nodded. Teddy’s words about Lucky Jack resounded in her head.
Don’t get mad, get even.
Davey had been the first one to stop the cruel teasing and had been friendly; the other cooks had followed suit, and they had become united in their common hatred of Jim. Together and separately they had played a variety of tricks on him. Since no one ratted on anyone, he was unable to exact punishment but had become meaner than ever. They had gelatined his tool drawer, frozen his jacket in the icebox, and pinned Kick Me to his back. Their crowning glory up to that point had been stuffing salmon heads into his pockets. His white jacket had stunk for a week and he raged around the kitchen throwing pots, but no one admitted to anything.

“He must not fail with the demi-glace,” Davey said solemnly. “More than that, it must be perfect or Chef cannot use it. It takes forever to make.”

Demi-glace took almost two days. The chef first had to prepare a brown sauce. That of itself was an arduous process of roasting veal and beef bones and reducing the sauce. Then the brown stock went into a sauce
espagnole
, which
was mixed with more stock and simmered, seasoned, and strained. Like any French chef, Chef Henri was particular about all his recipes, especially his sauces, but the demi-glace
was in a class all its own because of the complexity. It was a great honor for Jim to be asked to prepare it.

“If something should go wrong…?” Kerry asked, her eyebrows raised.

“I believe Chef would fire him if not kill him.”

“What will you make for Chef?”

“Coq au vin,” Davey said promptly. “You?”

“Salmon soufflé.”

Davey rolled his eyes. “You’re a caution, you are. I’ll help you if you’ll help me.”

“Yes I will, but you have to help me with something else.”

Davey looked at her and grinned. “We’re going to take care of Jim once and for all.

“Ah.” Davey put on an atrocious French accent,
“Le demi-glace, c’est fini?”

“Oui.”

“Chef will be most displeased.”

“Mais oui.”

“And Chef Jim? Is he too fini?”

“Fini.” Kerry drew her hand across her throat.

*

Two days before the great banquet, Chef ordered all cooks to report at six in the morning. He raced around the kitchen or, more accurately, he barreled, since he was a significantly large man who sampled too many of his pastry chef’s desserts. His first order of business was the cooks’ contest offerings. He went down the line and carefully tasted each dish. When he finished, he announced with a flourish, “The salmon soufflé—
magnifique.
It is the winner. You will make it for the banquet. Also, coq au vin, very good.
Très bien
.”