Battle Hymns (15 page)

She opened her bag of makeup and applied cream,
mascara, and powder to her skin in wide, heavy strokes. By the time
she finished, she had to use her handkerchief to tone down the
garish amount of rouge on her cheeks. She rested her elbows on the
table and buried her face in her hands. Fresh tears threatened to
ruin the mascara. She couldn’t even make herself look presentable
anymore.

“Pull yourself together,” she whispered.

She straightened her back and brought the
pink-stained handkerchief to her eyes. She wiped away any excess
color. Then she swept back her hair and pinned it into a bun. She
lifted her cheeks to reveal a fake smile. At least now she looked
like some semblance of her normal self.

Downstairs in the sitting room, her mother was still
working on the tree.

“May I borrow the car?” Charlotte asked. “I promised
Mrs. Adler I’d visit, and I haven’t yet.”

Her mother nodded. “Give them my best. And be
careful. The roads might be icy.”

Charlotte fetched the car keys from the foyer and
left the house.

She pulled into the driveway of the Adlers’ house
within the hour. The housekeeper greeted her at the door and led
her into the parlor where Mrs. Adler welcomed her.

“Would you like something to eat or drink? Our
family, friends, and neighbors have been too kind these past couple
of weeks. We have plenty of fruitcake, and I’ve made some tea.”

“No, thank you. I just wanted to visit,” Charlotte
said.

“Then please have a seat.”

Charlotte rested on the opposite end of the sofa from
Nick’s mother.

Mrs. Adler regarded her with genuine concern in her
blue eyes. Nick’s eyes. “How are you?”

Charlotte stared at the dark green upholstery. “I’ve
been better.” She lifted her gaze. “And you?”

“The same. I’ve had good days and bad days. We’ve
gotten a lot of support from family and friends, though. It’s
helped.” Mrs. Adler picked up her cup of tea from the table. Steam
swirled up from the liquid, and Charlotte wished she’d accepted a
cup.

They fell into silence. Small talk would not suffice,
so Charlotte focused on the original intent of her visit. “I want
to return something. It’s not mine to keep anymore.” She looked at
the engagement ring on her finger, the one that had belonged to
Nick’s grandmother. She twisted it off her finger for the first
time in over a year and held it in her palm. The skin underneath
where the ring had been was pale. Her hand looked bare.

Mrs. Adler frowned. “You don’t need to do that.”

“I do.” Charlotte placed the ring in Mrs. Adler’s
hand. “It belongs to your family, and as much as I wish otherwise,
that no longer includes me.”

Tears escaped Mrs. Adler’s eyes. “I do wish things
could have been different. You and my son would’ve been happy
together.”

Charlotte dug her fingernails into her palm to keep
her tears at bay. “Nick wouldn’t have wanted us to dwell on what
could have been.”

Voices came from the hallway. Moments later, Mr.
Adler and another couple entered the room. Charlotte stood as they
approached. She hadn’t expected the Adlers to have guests.

Mr. Adler gave Charlotte the same small smile his
wife had perfected. “It’s nice to see you, Charlotte. This is my
sister, Louisa, and her husband, Bill. They’re visiting for the
holidays.”

“Hello,” Charlotte replied. “It’s nice to meet
you.”

“You were Nicholas’s fiancée? I’m sorry for your
loss, dear. He was a wonderful boy,” Louisa said.

Charlotte tried to hold back tears at her use of the
past tense. “He was.”

Mr. Adler poured himself a drink and one for his
brother-in-law from the bar cart. “Have you been here long?”

“Only a few minutes. I should go, actually.”

“Well, thank you for visiting. Please give my regards
to your parents.”

Charlotte clutched her pocketbook. “I will. Thank
you.”

Mrs. Adler accompanied her to the front porch.

“How long is your family staying?” Charlotte
asked.

“Indefinitely. I’m grateful they’re here. Jim works
so often, and I didn’t want to spend the holidays alone, especially
under such circumstances. I can only imagine how much worse it is
for the men overseas to be away from their families at this
time.”

Charlotte nodded. She admired that Mrs. Adler was
able to overlook her own loss and think of the other soldiers who
were still fighting, whose lives were still on the line. Whereas
Charlotte hadn’t been able to focus on anything but Nick for weeks.
She avoided her friends, fearing their worried looks. More
importantly, she neglected her nurses’ aide duties when they were
most needed. The soldiers abroad weren’t the only ones away from
home. The men at the Army Medical Center couldn’t spend the
holidays with their loved ones either.

Charlotte exchanged good-byes with Mrs. Adler. As she
drove north, the radio announcer addressed the war, and instead of
turning the dial as she normally had since Nick’s death, she
listened. He spoke of victories in Buna and other places in the
Pacific, and mentioned less than triumphant situations in North
Africa. He also discussed the recent Congress filibusters against a
silver bill, problems at the War Production Board, and the new
prosperity of American farmers. When it came time for her to head
west into Maryland, she continued north without hesitation.

Charlotte needed to volunteer at the hospital. She
needed to remind herself that she wasn’t the only one experiencing
pain and sorrow.

When she arrived, the receptionist acknowledged her
with a polite hello as she signed her timecard, and in the nurses’
lounge, she found a spare Red Cross uniform that was two sizes too
big. She changed into the uniform, pinned the cap into her hair,
and entered the ward.

It was a quieter afternoon than she had left weeks
earlier. Because it was Christmas Eve, there weren’t nearly as many
doctors, nurses, and volunteers on duty. Even the patient count was
down, as some soldiers were allowed to go home for a Christmas
visit, depending on their injuries.

Before Charlotte could assess any patient needs,
Rachel rushed toward her. “Oh my gosh. Are you all right? I heard
what happened. I didn’t think you’d come back.”

“Well, I’m here. How are things? Did I miss anything
important?” Charlotte asked.

Rachel didn’t look appeased by her answer. She always
wanted to be the one with the juiciest gossip, but thankfully, she
didn’t push it.

“Everything’s copacetic.” She shrugged. “You haven’t
missed much—hardly any new patients either. Johnny’s still flirting
with all the nurses and aides, so watch out!” She giggled.

“What about Will?” Charlotte glanced across the ward.
All she could see was his casted leg at the end of the bed.

Rachel’s sunny disposition dimmed. “He’s fine.”

Charlotte dropped her voice to a whisper. “Did
something happen?”

“No, it’s not that.” Rachel shifted her weight. “I
mean, you know he’s never been much of a
conversationalist . . .”

Charlotte rolled her eyes. “And he’s not talking to
you,” she finished. “Do you like him?”

Rachel shook her head. “No, of course not.”

Charlotte sighed. She was in no mood for contention
with Rachel. “Well, if you don’t mind, I’m going to talk to
him.”

“Perfectly fine by me.” Rachel flashed a smile.
“Anyway, I need to finish my rounds and head home. My mother’s
cooking dinner before midnight mass, and my
entire
family is
invited. It’s going to be a nightmare. I have, like, twenty
cousins. Do you have any big Christmas Eve plans this evening?”

Charlotte shook her head. “It’s just me and my
parents. A normal dinner, I think.”

“Well, Merry Christmas . . . and I’m
sorry about what happened to your fiancé. If you ever want to talk,
I’ll listen.”

“Thanks.”

Rachel disappeared through the double doors, and
Charlotte made her way to Will’s bedside. The casts had been
removed from his arms since her last visit, and he was now able to
hold up a paperback book.

“I hear you’re not being very conversational,” she
said from the foot of the bed.

Will lowered the novel and rested it on his torso. “I
didn’t think you’d ever return.”

“Honestly, I didn’t think I’d return either.” She
took a seat and tucked her hands beneath her legs. “Well, I assume
you’ve heard about Nick. Someone’s been talking about it. Rachel
knew.”

“No one’s mentioned anything to me about it.”

“But you know.”

Will shrugged. “Your reaction that afternoon said it
all. How are you holding up?”

Tears crept into her eyes. “I don’t want to burden
you with my grief. You have enough to worry about.”

Will arched his eyebrows. “What do I have to worry
about, apart from you?”

“Getting well, reconnecting with your family,
retrieving your lost memories . . . just to name a
few.”

The left corner of his lips twitched upward. “First,
getting well doesn’t require any effort on my part aside from
laying here and agreeing to physical therapy for my leg. Second,
reconnecting with my family is not going to happen. And third,
maybe I’m better off not remembering what happened.” He paused.
“You see, Charlotte, you’re the only thing I have to worry
about.”

“Why would you worry about me?”

“We’re friends, right? You give a damn about me, and
I give a damn about you.”

“All right then . . . I don’t know how
I’m supposed to move on.” Her voice shook. “The man I loved is
dead. How do I move forward? How am I supposed to forget him, what
we had together?”

“My sister died two years ago. I know it’s not the
same as losing someone you loved romantically, but I do sort of
know what you’re going through.”

“How did you manage it?”

“Not in a way I’d recommend. My response was to join
a war that almost killed me.” Will chuckled. “I’d rather you didn’t
do the same.”

Charlotte wiped away her tears.

Will placed his warm hand over hers. “Listen, you
shouldn’t forget about him. You can’t dwell on the past, and you
can’t disregard it, either. He’ll always be an important part of
your life.”

She nodded. Will was right. It’d be impossible to
completely forget about Nick. But where would she find the strength
to carry on without him in her life?

Will removed his hand from hers and shifted in his
bed. “And give it time. Stay busy. It’ll get easier, I
promise.”

“Thank you,” Charlotte whispered. She swiped beneath
her eyes to remove any smudged makeup and stood. “I suppose I
should find a nurse and get started on my rounds. Do you need
anything from me?”

Will stared into her eyes. “No. Not yet.”

Twenty

N
ineteen forty-three
arrived with no celebration on Charlotte’s part. She declined
invitations to various New Year’s Eve parties, despite the urging
from her mother, Evelyn, and Sandra. She missed her friends, but
she still couldn’t endure the constant drone of sympathies. Even
though they meant well, all it did was remind her of what she’d
lost. And if she found last year’s hoopla tedious while Nick was in
basic training, this year would have been even worse.

“I understand,” Will said after Charlotte answered
his question about her holiday. “I can’t picture myself at a party
right now either, even if I could stand on my own two feet.”

“We’re pitiful.”

Will shrugged. “It’ll get better. The future still
looks bright.”

She smiled. “I like that you’re so optimistic these
days.”

“It’s a good day. It’s a new year, hopefully the year
the war ends . . . I get to see you, which is always
a pleasure . . . and the doctor said they’ll remove
my leg cast sometime today.”

“I heard. I bet you can’t wait to walk again.”

“You have no idea. My leg is the only reason I’m
still here.”

“You still have to go to physical therapy, right?”
Her voice wavered. “You won’t be discharged soon?”

Charlotte wanted Will’s leg to heal, but she dreaded
him leaving. She had gotten to know him well since November. He was
a fixture at the hospital and had always been supportive of her
situation with Nick, before and after his death. Of course she’d
developed an attachment to him. They were both survivors. Will in
the physical sense, and her in the emotional one. They still hadn’t
recovered, but they were well on their way. She needed him in her
life. At the moment, he was her closest friend.

Will flashed a grin. “You can’t get rid of me that
quickly.”

She gave a hesitant laugh. “Did you attend many New
Year’s Eve parties? Before the war, I mean?”

“Every year. My father hosted an annual party at our
home in Stamford. It was a lavish affair . . .
dinner, live music, and liquor that flowed in abundance, even
during the Prohibition years. Our nanny would make my sister and me
wear our best clothes, and we’d pretend to be much older than we
were. We were spoiled.”

“What about your mother? She must be a lovely
lady.”

“I’m sure she was, but I wouldn’t know.” Will idly
scratched the plaster leg cast. “She died while giving birth to my
sister and me.”

Her cheeks flushed. “I’m so sorry. I shouldn’t have
asked.”

Will shrugged. “It’s all right. You can’t miss what
you never had.”

Charlotte was at a loss for an appropriate response.
She always asked the wrong questions, ones that sent him into his
thoughts. She could’ve left him and moved on to other patients, but
perhaps selfishly, she wanted to continue her visit.

She glanced at her wristwatch. “I’ll be right
back.”

When Charlotte returned, she pushed a metal cart to
his bedside. “I was going to wait until a little bit later. Now’s
as good a time as any, and the equipment’s available again.”