Awake Unto Me (22 page)

“I hope to return to my unit,” he told her. “I’m not due home until January.”

“We shall try and get you well enough,” Beth said, amiably. “But if you go back to the front, do try to not get shot. The typhoid’s quite enough.”

“I shall do my best, Miss Hammond.”

“It’s Nurse—”

“I know that, but if you don’t mind, I’d rather call you Miss.” He cleared his throat.

She relented. “If you like.” He was rather endearing. He was soft-spoken and very polite. “You are well enough now to read yourself, so I’ll not be needed.”

“But I so enjoy it! When you read to me, I mean,” he said, lowering his eyelashes. He reached for her hand. She took it in what she hoped was a reassuring but non-romantic fashion, and he stared into her eyes.

“Miss Hammond, I can’t tell you how much you have meant to me.”

Beth’s ears grew warm and she had a sinking feeling in her stomach.
They have warned us about this.

“Lieutenant,” she said, sternly. “Please do remember I have a professional obligation.”

He dropped her hand rather swiftly. “I apologize,” he said, “for overstepping bounds, Miss, but I’m quite certain of my feelings. When I’m released from duty, may I come to call on you before I return to Seattle?”

“Lieutenant, I’m flattered but it’s not possible. Entirely impossible. I’m on duty and will be so for I don’t know how long. You’ve been very ill and you mistake gratitude for a tenderer feeling. I assure you, you’ll recover from that as you have from the typhoid.”

“No, I will not.” His eyes flashed. “Do you think I’m not serious? Please don’t hide behind your profession. I’ve no wish to insult you. It is not the imaginings of a fevered mind, I assure you. I have quite fallen—”

“Lieutenant!” Beth said firmly. “Please say no more. You may not call on me. It’s been my honor to care for you, but that is as far as my feelings go.”

“Very well.” He lay back against his pillows, looking wounded to the core. “I’ll accept your wishes. But am I not an eligible suitor? I am intelligent, I am kind, I am patriotic!” He grinned, as did Beth.

“You’re all of those things, Lieutenant, but I, I’m afraid, am not what you wish me to be.”

“You could, perhaps with time, come to feeling for me?” He looked so bereft, Beth almost agreed with him, but held back. It would be no good to get his hopes up, only to dash them. Besides, what would Kerry think if a man came to call on her?

*

Beth walked out onto the deck and stopped to gaze out over Manila Bay. The sun was shining and the reflections shimmered off the small waves. She thought suddenly of home and of another bay that caught the colors of the sky and reflected them back. It’s November now and it may well be raining in San Francisco, she thought. I was very quick to dismiss Lieutenant Evers. Why is that? He certainly is as he says. If we were to see each other again, what harm would that do? It might do a great deal, Beth admitted to herself.

I don’t think I could fall in love with him. What does that say about me? I can try to pretend it’s because of professional reasons, but that
isn’t the whole story. I can look at a handsome, educated, cultured young man and not feel a thing for him. I know it’s true. I know that isn’t normal. I just don’t know why. Why can’t I feel for him what I feel for Kerry when I look at her?

*

They didn’t encounter any other crisis comparable to the typhoid outbreak. They received more casualties, and most of them were ill with various fevers. Few had wounds. Addison continued as before to discuss the infectious cases with Beth as though she were already a medical student. Beth began to offer her observations and opinions with more confidence.

Then out of the blue, in early December, their orders came to return to San Francisco. Another hospital ship had arrived, bringing fresh doctors and nurses, and taking the others home.

On the voyage home the
Golden Gate
crew and staff prepared to celebrate Christmas. They had a lovely dinner, and those on board with any modicum of talent endeavored to entertain the rest so there was some singing and a few poetic recitations. They prevailed upon Beth to play the piano, and she favored them with a few hymns and some of Mr. Stephen Foster’s better-known compositions and a march or two by Mr. John Philip Sousa. The festivities were enlivened by the serving of wine. Beth, who was still unused to spirits, went outside into the warm tropical night to clear her head. One of the patients, who was a professional musician, had taken up the piano and was leading the rest in a sing-along.

Beth was once again staring across the water, and Kerry once more slipped into her thoughts.
She will be working. The hotel, no doubt, will host a big Christmas dinner. She would not be home with Laura.
Beth smiled to herself, imagining Kerry hard at work. She knew very well that Laura and Kerry only got along because of Addison. The sound of voices interrupted her reverie. She did not, just then, feel up to any company and so took refuge behind a stanchion and prayed whoever it was would walk on and leave her to her solitude.

“Oh, let’s stop here.” The voice Beth heard sounded familiar.

“Very well.” A different voice, also familiar. Beth peeked out cautiously. It was Nurse Reynolds and Nurse Trenton. They stood at the rail, their backs to Beth, and they clearly had no idea anyone was nearby.

This is most inappropriate, Beth thought. I shouldn’t lurk in the shadows undetected and intruding on their privacy
.
But as she was about to speak up she suddenly stopped, her curiosity getting the better of her.

“Please, Marjorie. Do say yes. Say we shall live together when we return to the city.”

“It’s not that I don’t want to, Florence. Please try to understand.”

“I do
not
understand. Your mother isn’t ill and she can manage very well on her own. If she needs help, she can hire it, like anyone else!”

“Your mother is dead so you don’t know how it would be if she were alive. My mother’s health is very delicate.”

“But you have the right to your own life, do you not?”

“My mother wants me to find a husband and settle down. That’s what sort of life she envisions for me. She wants me to stay home until that occurs.”

To Beth, Marjorie sounded resigned and hopeless.

Florence’s voice took on a pleading note. From her hiding place, Beth could see she was facing Marjorie, who stared out over the water at the moon’s reflection.

“When we first fell in love, you said you couldn’t wait for the time we could live together. Then your mother took ill and you said we must delay. Now it’s because she still needs your help or she expects you to get married. It’s always something else.”

Beth was frozen in place, only beginning to understand what she was hearing and seeing. The sadness in Florence’s voice touched her deeply.

“But you know that you won’t marry. You’ve said so. You wouldn’t do that to me.”

“Oh, Florence. I couldn’t. I would never.” Marjorie took Florence’s face between her hands. “My mother wouldn’t understand—about us.”

They turned at the same time and faced each other. Their faces were in profile, backlit by reflected moonlight so that they looked ghostly.

“I love you. More than I can say. You must be patient. We will be together.”

They kissed fervently, passionately, both of them groaning slightly. Beth was aghast, whether from longing or embarrassment she didn’t know. She knew at that moment what had been transpiring between Kerry and herself. The pieces of the puzzle fell into place and the picture became complete.
Women can have these feelings for one another. They’re real. Is this what Kerry feels for me? Is this why I can’t return Lieutenant Evers’s attentions? What about my feelings?

Beth’s mind started to work at a furious pace.

Marjorie stopped the kiss and said, “We mustn’t. We better go back to the party.”

Florence nodded and they left the deck. Beth was rooted to the spot where she stood trying to make sense of what she saw and what she thought.

Of course Kerry was courting me. That’s exactly how it felt. I’ve been so stupid and blind. How could I not have known? She hasn’t said a word, but I know now why she looks at me as she does.
That
was why she kissed me!
Beth’s face got hot
. She can’t discern my feelings. I’ve confused her with my lackluster response. Poor Kerry, how she must be suffering. When I return home, I’ll put this to rights. I will talk to her and ask her true feelings.

Beth made up her mind with her customary decisiveness. She would talk to Kerry and they would be honest with one another. She was still unsure if what she felt for Kerry was love, but it seemed impossible that it could be anything else.

Through the long voyage back to San Francisco, Beth could think of nothing but the moment she and Kerry would at last meet again.

With Addison gone, Kerry and Laura coexisted in an uneasy truce. Kerry attempted as much as was practical to be out of the house, and that usually meant being at the restaurant. Luckily, that was quite possible, even welcomed by Chef, who was happy to exploit the labors of his unusual woman cook. Kerry was more than happy to be cooking, and if she wasn’t busy with restaurant service, she was pestering Davey or Chef about learning new dishes.

Sleeping or eating a quick meal were her only reasons for being at home.

Laura’s anxiety was evident even though Addison clearly wrote her quite often. Laura didn’t share the contents of her letters with her. Kerry wished he would write her separately, but she imagined he was very busy and unable to manage more. She received a few letters from Beth. She read them over and over, folding and unfolding them until they were as soft as cotton. They were ambiguous at best and quite short, but it was all she had.

Kerry felt some regret over her encounter with Letty Stevenson. She was terribly lonely and missed Beth. She wavered between despair one day and hope the next. She was on the brink of trying to forget about her love for Beth as altogether hopeless. But she couldn’t quite bring herself to do that, even while Beth was away. She thought of going back down to seek Sally out, but something held her back. There was no answer to any of it, really, except to keep busy at the Palace and try to stay out of Laura’s way as much as possible.

Perhaps when she returns, she’ll realize how deeply she missed me. I hope so. That’s my only hope. There are times when she’s looked at me and I could swear…

It was a rare evening that Kerry wasn’t working and she and Laura were at home together for dinner. Laura had no shame about having Kerry cook for her. She felt it was only right; Kerry was as close to household help as she was likely to come.

She brought in the mail for them to look at during dinner, which eliminated the need for them to speak to one another.

Kerry didn’t mind cooking at home. It gave her something to do. As she had grown older, she had become resigned to Laura’s treatment of her when Addison wasn’t around. She simply had no emotional investment in Laura liking her, and since it had always been that way, she figured it would always be that way. She was respectful of her because she respected Addison; that was the extent of it. She often wondered how they had come to be married, because in every matter but his choice of wife, Addison had always seemed to be sensible and intelligent.

Kerry finally concluded that it was a fluke based on her looks, which were, admittedly, very pretty, except for the perpetual pursing of her lips in distaste for anything outside her view of proper behavior. Kerry deduced she must have either caught Addison in a weak moment or she was very effective at concealing her true personality from him. Still, dealing with Laura wasn’t easy when Addison wasn’t present as a buffer. She had decided long ago that she wouldn’t make it a burden to him if his wife was cross with her. She owed him for the roof over her head and the generosity he had always shown her.

Laura, as usual, didn’t thank Kerry for preparing their supper of roast chicken and rutabagas—all expertly seasoned and tender. She handed over a letter to Kerry from Beth.

“She writes you so rarely. It must be a treat to get a letter.”

Kerry glanced at her, looking for and finding the undercurrent of malice but deciding to ignore it as she always did. “They keep them quite busy, I expect. The hospital, I mean.”

“Still…I would think she would make the time, being such a great friend of yours.”

Kerry blinked. She wouldn’t normally rise to Laura’s bait, but the letters from Beth
had
been few and far between. That, along with her jumbled feelings for Beth and Laura’s steady diet of nasty little comments and veiled digs at her for the past few months, caught up with her.

“What business is it of yours, then, how often and from whom I get letters?” she snapped.

“You be careful what you say to me, you little ingrate. You have no call to take that tone.”

“I’ll take this ‘tone,’ as you call it, if I want to. In spite of what you think, you’ve no control over me. Not now that I’m grown and can defend myself.”

Laura looked away at the veiled reference to the slapping and beating she had subjected Kerry to when she had first come to live with them. “When Addison returns, I’m going to ask him to show you the door. You and your little friend. We’ve put up with you quite long enough,” Laura said with a toss of her head. “I’m sure Addison will see that it’s time.”