Awake Unto Me (23 page)

“I doubt that even you can tell Addison what to think and what to do, Laura. He’s his own man,” Kerry said, now truly irritated that this fatuous, vindictive woman was presuming to speak for her husband.

“We’ll just have to see, won’t we?” Laura’s eyes glittered and she smiled unpleasantly.

Kerry stood and threw down her napkin, picked up Beth’s letter, and went upstairs, leaving Laura at the table.
I’ll be damned if I go back down to help clear the dishes. She can damn well do them herself.
She knew, however, how stubborn Laura could be and that she would be forced to clean or else deal with the kitchen vermin after a few days of the food sitting out.

She slammed her door shut, fell on the bed, and opened the letter.

The beginning was the standard questions about Kerry’s health and reporting that her own was well, then some details on the latest patients and the nurses’ gossip. The last paragraph, however, caused Kerry to sit up, her stomach clenched and her palms moist. She read it twice with rising joy.

It seems our work here is nearly done, or as much as we can accomplish at the moment. I am to return to San Francisco in a month’s time. It is my understanding that I will be given leave until the army decides if we are to be permanently posted at the Presidio or returned to the Philippines, or to have no employment at all. Keep well, dearest Kerry. I trust the month to pass quickly and we shall see each other very soon, as I promised you when we parted. I have very much missed you and our time together.

Yours as ever,

Beth

Kerry expected that Beth would return directly to the Grants as soon as she and Addison debarked, but she was quickly disappointed when she received another letter from Beth.

Dearest Kerry,

Since my return from the Philippines and my release from duty to the army, I fear I must stay close to home for a few days to care for my mother and help my father at the store. My mother has had a recurrence of her neuralgia. I am chagrined that our reunion has been delayed.

As ever,

Beth

Kerry swallowed her disappointment and waited.

The next letter a week later was much better.

Dearest Kerry,

I believe I may die of boredom soon or at least slip into unconsciousness. I have passed the time when I needed a great deal of rest and now am confronted with my father’s entreaties to help him at the store and my mother’s requests to help him so that “he does not have a heart attack.” Please plan to come and fetch me on your earliest free afternoon. I am anxious to see you again.

Fondest regards,

Beth

Kerry prepared carefully and nervously for their outing. She wanted it to be special but also familiar and comforting. She wore a clean white shirt and had carefully washed and trimmed her hair. She took extra time to brush the horses up to their glossy best. She washed the carriage and cleaned the dirt from the inside and washed the blanket. She baked a pie and wrapped a few pieces to take along on their ride.

Now that Addison was back, Laura’s attention was thankfully directed toward him and she was again ignoring Kerry. She fussed and fluttered and clucked and hovered over him until Kerry thought Addison might finally say something, but he appeared to soak it up. He was thin and worn-looking and seemed in no hurry to return to the county hospital.

On the ride to Beth’s house, Kerry rehearsed their meeting over and over. Her anticipation was so keen it threatened to slide into despair were its conditions not met.

*

While Beth was at home with her parents, she was absorbed in her own combination of anticipation and doubt. She hadn’t wanted to see Kerry until they could be alone, because she was afraid of what they might say to one another and what someone else might overhear. That precluded inviting Kerry over to her home. Her parents’ need for her attention was enormous when she had first returned, and it gave her a reason to put off the inevitable confrontation with her own feelings. She also felt guilty for not writing them more often, especially since she had taken the time to write to Kerry far more than she had written to her parents. After her long absence, she believed she should focus attention on them. That was possible for a few days, until the stultifying routine of their lives overtook Beth’s relief at being at home and she longed to escape.

She also longed to see Kerry. On the trip home, she had thought of nothing but the scene between Nurse Reynolds and Nurse Trenton, Lieutenant Evers, and her consequent epiphany. The thought of seeing Kerry and confessing her feelings was almost more than she could contemplate because she had no idea what would happen next or even what she wanted to happen next.

For the first time in her life that she could recall, she was at the mercy of her feelings. Feelings that she couldn’t control and feelings she felt equally compelled and terrified to express.
Is this what love feels like?
She wasn’t sure she knew the answer. When she closed her eyes, she saw Kerry’s soulful and wounded brown eyes and her tentative smile. Beth was sure that what she had to say was the right thing.

*

At Kerry’s knock, Beth flung the door open. After a moment staring at each other, they came together in a tight embrace and held it for a long time. Kerry thought she felt the tiniest relaxation of Beth’s body into hers, but it came and went quickly. Then Beth was holding her at arm’s length and smiling.

Kerry was torn between her joy at seeing Beth and her anxiety about their visit. She was rendered speechless, but her awkwardness was saved by Beth taking her arm and urging her forward inside the flat.

“Come quickly and say hello to Mother and Father, and then we shall be off.”

Kerry followed her and politely greeted Mr. and Mrs. Hammond. They were distant, as usual, and seemed resigned to see Beth leave with Kerry.

They drove slowly through the streets. Kerry gave Beth an umbrella and tucked the carriage blanket around her securely to guard against the late-January chill. Their conversation was trivial and desultory as they rode through the quiet streets. They smiled at one another constantly. They hadn’t even debated for a moment that they would go to Golden Gate Park. Kerry would turn and look at Beth when she was able to take her eyes off the street for an instant. Beth looked much like Addison—worn and weary—even though she had had a few weeks’ rest. She was thinner. Kerry longed to cook her large amounts of food and even, God forbid, cluck and fuss over her like Laura did with Addison. Kerry had written of her promotion in the kitchen but now told Beth more about her constant battle to be taken seriously as a cook.

“I suppose,” Beth said pensively, “it is easier if they think of you as just another man rather than a woman.”

Kerry stared at her in surprise. “Do you think I want to be a man?”

Beth flinched at Kerry’s tone. “No-no. It’s not that. I meant that the other cooks—the men, I mean—would find it easier to think of you not as a woman, for you are in a man’s job. That must make them very uncomfortable.”

Kerry thought, Beth, love, you don’t know the half of it.
She had
not
written to Beth about her successful plot with Davey to undermine and finally get rid of Jim. She wasn’t proud of her action. She fleetingly thought of Letty Stevenson and rapidly dismissed that as well.

There was another long pause. They finally arrived at the park and Kerry briskly set about tying up the horses and giving each a carrot and a pat before she turned to Beth. Again they looked at each other without speaking, until finally Kerry said, “Shall we go to the Conservatory of Flowers? At least we shall be out of the rain.” It had begun to drizzle in that sullen, constant way of San Francisco winters.

“Yes, I believe I’d like to be inside,” she said softly. “I was in the tropics for only three months, but I’m feeling the cold much more than I expected.”

She shivered and pulled her shawl about herself and nodded. Kerry longed to hug her and warm her up.

The gray, rainy day made the glass and white-painted wooden conservatory stand out in a stark fashion against the backdrop of bright-green plants that surrounded it. They went inside and the drastic change of temperature hit them. The conservatory was humid and hot. The silver-gray light filtering through the milky glass roof and walls seemed to highlight the green of the plants rather than dull it. Few other patrons were about. Most sensible people would be home warming themselves before their hearths. But not us, Kerry thought. Then she grasped they both felt the need to be away from their homes and families for this first meeting after so long a separation. Conscious of their awkwardness together, Kerry stared at a huge philodendron plant with a kind of wonder.

“Look, Beth,” she said. “This plant is almost thirty years old!”

Beth stood beside her. “Oh, how marvelous!”

Kerry looked at Beth closely, trying to discern her mood. She was unusually quiet and uncharacteristically focused on the little plates bearing the plant names. Kerry longed to ask her how she felt about their seeing each other after their separation, but she seemed to be tongue-tied herself.

They wandered through the various rooms, and Beth slipped a hand under Kerry’s arm as usual. Kerry turned to smile at her then.

Kerry felt the warmth of Beth’s hand on her arm. The electricity of the touch sped along her nerve endings, but she endeavored to stay calm. She cleared her throat. “Are these plants like those in the Philippines?”

“Oh, very much so.
Quisqualis indica
,
Rangoon creeper.” Beth read from one of the nameplates. “I think I remember seeing these in Manila. In fact, the humidity comforts me. I don’t think I was ready to come back to the winter. Even though it’s milder than a mountain winter would ever be, I’m still cold.”

Beth seemed to be babbling a bit about irrelevant topics, which was entirely unlike her. She seemed almost nervous. It mystified Kerry.

Their silence loomed, heavy with unspoken things. They stopped in a chamber with a large pond in the middle. Great hanging vines with large flowers dominated, but underneath a number of smaller plants and lily pads floated on the murky water. This room was even warmer than the others and the moist heat enveloped them. Kerry breathed it in. She was becoming a little light-headed from the heat or from anxiety, she couldn’t tell which.

They both turned at the same time and stood face to face. Beth raised her hand to Kerry’s cheek and laid her fingers there, lightly. Kerry waited for Beth to speak as the touch of her fingertips made its way straight to her heart. No one was in the chamber; they were utterly alone. They could hear the patter of rain on the glass roof, a steady accompaniment to their mutual silence.

“I learned a great deal about myself during this trip. Tour of duty, you might call it.” Beth laughed a little.

Kerry was silent, holding her breath and trying to be patient.

“I found I was truly capable of far more than I could have ever imagined.”

“Was it horrible?” Kerry asked. “I mean the men—the soldiers and their injuries?”

“No. They were mostly sick rather than injured. There were so many of them. That was hard until they were settled and recovered a bit. Then it was just like the hospital here at home. Except…”

“Except?” Kerry asked to bring Beth back to the moment. She had a distant look in her eyes.

“The soldiers could become quite emotional and could attach those emotions to us.”

Kerry looked at her, uncomprehending.

“In their homesickness and physical sickness, they, er, sometimes made themselves believe they had fallen in love with us. There was one…”

Kerry’s heart turned over.
It’s happened. She met someone—a man. It was only a matter of time. I must surely die now.

“Yes?” She asked the question with as even a tone as she could muster.

“Well, he was sweet and handsome. He was from up north. Seattle.”

Kerry held her breath again, waiting for news of an impending engagement.

“His name was Roland Evers. He was a schoolteacher. He was quite charming but I refused him,” Beth said with a sort of grim finality.

“Oh? Why?”

“I wasn’t too sure why. Most sensible people would think me mad.”

Beth’s voice was light and teasing, but Kerry heard a note of something she’d never heard before. She waited, her despair ebbing away, but only a bit. That she refused the overtures of a young man was good news, but Beth’s feelings toward her were still the same mystery.

“I wouldn’t,” Kerry said.

“You wouldn’t? Why is that?”

Kerry cleared her throat nervously and looked away. “I’m sure not all women fall for the first man who asks them.”

“Oh, no, I’m sure not. That would be inadvisable,” Beth said with equal solemnity.