Dancing in the Rain (7 page)

She shook her head at the man who stood opposite her, his feet planted firmly on French ground, his brown hair gleaming in the October sun. “I didn’t say that it was a whim.” She would tell no one the reason for her engagement. “I love Ed. It’s just that the war hastened our plans.” Not wanting to discuss her own engagement any longer, she turned the tables. “Haven’t you ever done anything spontaneously?”

Dwight shook his head. “I believe in thinking before I act.”

“General Pershing could take lessons from you. Maybe you should command the American forces.”

“Don’t be ridiculous.” This time there was nothing joking in Dwight’s voice. “I want to save lives, not take them. That’s what’s important.”

Carolyn couldn’t dispute the importance of saving lives, but it wasn’t everything. “What about fun? Where does that fit into your life plan?”

“It doesn’t.”

“But …” Carolyn started to protest. Dwight was wrong, so very wrong. For a second, she was tempted to tell him that and show him how to have fun. One look at his face quenched that thought. He wouldn’t appreciate anyone telling him to laugh. This was Dwight Hollins, the man whose solemnity was legendary, the one who apparently planned every aspect of his life. Carolyn would take a lesson from him. She might not be able to plan her life, but in the future she would think before she spoke, especially when she was speaking to Dwight Hollins.

Dwight stared at the empty sheet of paper and frowned. It was getting late, and he still hadn’t started his letter to Louise. He could blame it on the heavy workload, but the fact was, today had been no worse than any others. There was no reason why he had spent the last half hour sitting in the small room he shared with three other doctors, staring out the window rather than write a letter to Louise.

When he had left the States, he and Louise had agreed that they would write weekly, always on the same day. That way there would never be any question about when they should write. It had been such a good plan.

Dwight’s lips curved in a smile at the memory of Carolyn’s expression when she had spoken of spontaneity. It was obvious that he and she had very little in common. What would she think if she heard how he and Louise scheduled their correspondence? Carolyn would undoubtedly have some kind of sarcastic retort, probably telling him that women preferred spontaneity. She was wrong, of course. All women weren’t like her. Louise most certainly was not.

Leaning back in his chair, Dwight closed his eyes, trying to picture the woman who would become his wife when the war ended. She was tall, slender, dark-haired—almost the complete opposite of Carolyn, who was medium height, nicely curved and blond. Dwight’s eyes flew open and he frowned in disgust. Drat it all! Why did he keep thinking of Carolyn? It was Louise’s smile he should be remembering, Louise’s pretty face he should dream of. There was no reason he should think of Carolyn.

Dwight rose and began to pace the floor, trying to diagnose the cause of his errant thoughts. It had to be because Carolyn was here, and Louise was thousands of miles away. Pure proximity. Nothing else.

Dwight smiled in satisfaction. He was a good diagnostician. Now that he’d identified the cause of the problem, he knew how to cure it.
Think of Louise,
he admonished himself. She was the woman he was going to marry.

Dwight stared out the window, thankful that his room did not face the courtyard. He could see trees from here, and although they did not look like the trees at home, they were preferable to the sight of a muddy courtyard. Of course, he hadn’t noticed the mud when he had been with Carolyn. It was only later when he had tried to clean his boots that he had realized he’d stood in inch-deep mud for close to half an hour.

Think of Louise.
She wouldn’t have stood in the mud. Louise was far too sensible for that. The truth was, that practicality was one of the things that had attracted Dwight. He had met Louise at one of the few social events he’d attended while he was a resident. She was beautiful and charming, but—more than that—he had realized she would be the perfect wife. The daughter of a doctor, Louise understood the demands of a physician’s life. Just as important, she was a careful planner like Dwight himself.
Spontaneity
was not a word in her vocabulary, any more than it was in his.

Louise had developed a blueprint for her life, and that blueprint included marrying the right man, having three children, a home with a garden, and a cocker spaniel. She had already chosen the names for their children—three boys’ and three girls’ names, so they’d be prepared—and had begun looking for the perfect lot for their home. She had also started visiting dog breeders. “You can’t start too early,” she had told Dwight.

He, unfortunately, had not started early enough if he was going to finish his letter tonight. Dwight picked up the pen and began to write.
Dear Louise.
But though he told himself he needed to write, his mind refused to concentrate on the letter. Instead, he remembered the day they had become engaged. It had been Christmas, for Louise had said she had always dreamed of a Christmas engagement and a Midsummer Night’s wedding. How her face had lit with pleasure when he had slipped the diamond ring onto her finger! It was silly to think that she’d been happier about the ring itself than about the prospect of marrying him. It was simply that the ring was new and she was the first of her friends to become engaged. That was the only reason Louise had spent the day visiting friends, showing off the diamond, while he’d remained at home celebrating the holiday with her family.

Dwight pushed that thought aside and began to write. He would tell Louise about the break in the rain and the hope of a Christmas truce. Those were safe topics. He would definitely not tell Louise about Carolyn and their discussion of engagements.

Dwight laid the pen on the desk and leaned back again, thinking. There was something mysterious about Carolyn’s engagement. Or was there? Perhaps it was simply that it was different. It was clear that Carolyn’s engagement bore little resemblance to his and that her agreement to marry Ed had been impulsive. And yet, who was to say that that was wrong? She loved Ed. She had said that. And he … Dwight frowned. He loved Louise; of course he did.

Carolyn poured herself a cup of tea and settled back in the one comfortable chair that the room boasted. The letter from Ed that had arrived that morning was on the table next to her, waiting to be read. But first she wanted to unwind, to put the day’s events behind her.

Why had she gotten herself into such a predicament, discussing engagements? It wasn’t as if she could blame anyone else. She was the one who’d introduced the subject. She should have realized that Dwight would turn the tables on her and ask her about Ed. But, no. No matter how many times her mother or Martha chided her for her impetuosity, she hadn’t learned. She still spoke without thinking first.

Fortunately, Carolyn hadn’t had to tell any lies to get out of the hole she’d dug. She simply hadn’t told Dwight the entire truth. She had no intention of telling him—or anyone—that she had practically proposed to Ed and that she viewed her engagement as part of the war effort. She loved Ed. That was true. It was also true that she loved him as a friend or a brother, not as the man she was planning to marry. But that was one of those truths that she would not reveal. Not now. Probably not ever.

Carefully, she slit the envelope and pulled out the thin sheet of paper.

My darling Carolyn.
Ed’s handwriting was like him, big loopy letters that scrawled across the page. She smiled, remembering the notes they’d left in the crotch of the oak tree when they were children. Those letters had not started, “My darling.”

Your letters mean more than I can ever tell you,
he wrote.
The one thing the Army didn’t prepare us for was boredom, and that’s what we’ve got. Each day seems like the one before. We have Stand To at dawn. That’s one of the two times a day that we get out of the trenches. You can’t imagine how good it feels to stand on the ground with air—not dirt walls—around you. I’ve been told that the sunrise here in France is beautiful, but I can’t vouch for it, since every day, every single day, it has rained at dawn.

Once we eat (and I won’t bore you with the litany of canned rations), it’s time to tend to the donks.
Carolyn smiled again. The first week, Ed had complained that the soldiers gave everything nicknames. Mules were called donkeys, or donks for short. Now, she noted, he’d adopted the abbreviation.
Mine kicked mud everywhere—all over me. Not that I was clean before then. Once Donk was fed, it was back into the trenches with nothing to do except wait for dusk and another Stand To.

But then we had mail call. Carolyn, my dearest, your letter was better than sunshine. I tried to picture you with a clothespin on your nose, and that made me laugh for the first time in days. Thank you, my darling.

Carolyn squeezed her eyes closed to keep the tears from falling. No matter what happened in the future, she could not regret her engagement, not when it had made Ed happy.

Chapter Five

D
wight stared at the door to the operating theater, frowning when it did not open. Where was she? Breakfast had been over for hours, or so it seemed. She should be here. Just because the other staff hadn’t arrived didn’t mean there were no men to treat. Didn’t Carolyn realize that they had important work to do? Men’s lives were at stake, and she was late. Dwight thrust his hands into his pockets when he realized he had balled them in frustration. He couldn’t let Carolyn—or anyone—annoy him that much.

If it were another nurse, Dwight would have thought she was fussing with her hair, but—though she was the prettiest woman Dwight had ever seen—Carolyn appeared to spend no time primping. He had never seen her look in a mirror or try to catch her reflection in a window the way Louise and his sisters did. Dwight was certain curling her hair wasn’t the reason Carolyn was late. Knowing her, she was joking with someone in the wards. That wasn’t necessarily bad. Even though Dwight put no credence in the therapeutic effects of laughter, the men in the wards appreciated Carolyn and her jokes. The problem was, men
needed
her here. He needed her, for until she arrived, he could do nothing. He couldn’t ask the orderlies to bring in his first patient, because without a nurse, he was unable to operate.

Dwight frowned again. Where was she? He had been waiting for what felt like hours, and she was—he blinked when he saw the clock. It must have stopped. He reached for his watch, shaking his head when it registered the same time as the stately grandfather clock. There was no denying the evidence. Carolyn wasn’t late. He was early.

How odd. Today, he had felt an unusual sense of anticipation when he had wakened. That must have been the reason he’d rushed through breakfast without being aware of how quickly he must have eaten. It was surely the thought of saving more lives that had brought him here ahead of schedule. It couldn’t be anything else. It most definitely could not have been a desire to see Clothespin Carolyn’s smile.

As the other doctors began to arrive, the energy level in the operating theater increased, and the orderlies wheeled in the first patients. Still, there was no sign of Carolyn. And then the door opened, and she whirled inside. That was the only way to describe her entrance, for she was practically running, and that lovely golden hair bounced against her cheeks, while she bestowed a warm smile on each man that she passed. She was beautiful and so filled with vitality that it was difficult not to smile in return. Dwight didn’t smile, of course. That would not be seemly, particularly not here in the operating room. He wouldn’t want the injured men to think he regarded them with anything less than complete seriousness. As Carolyn smiled again, Dwight bit the inside of his mouth to keep his lips from turning up.

Two of the men who lay on stretchers waiting for their turn in surgery did more than smile. They whistled their appreciation.

“Gentlemen.” Carolyn gave them an obviously false frown. That pretty heart-shaped face radiated joy, despite the down-turned lips. “My granny would say that you had indulged in inappropriate behavior. A gentleman never whistles inside a building.”

The man with the head wound grinned. “Can’t a fella say you’re the prettiest sight he’s seen since he left home? You’re worth gettin’ wounded for.”

Carolyn shook her head. Though her hair bounced, the starched cap remained firmly perched on top of her head. “My granny always told me flattery was like cod liver oil. A little is good for you, but you don’t want to overdo.”

While Dwight struggled to maintain his solemnity, the soldier laughed. “My granny never told me nurses were like you.”

They’re not,
Dwight wanted to say. Instead, he said only, “Nurse, please prepare this man for surgery.” He nodded at the first man who had whistled. Judging from his badly lacerated arm, fragments of a shell had hit Corporal Miller. The man’s chart indicated that he was from the American Expeditionary Force. “I see you’re part of the Big Red One,” Dwight said, using the nickname the soldiers had given to the US First Division.

“Yes, sir!” Corporal Miller started to salute, then winced when his arm refused to move. “You gonna take off my arm?”

“Not if I can help it.”

Though Dwight thought he had sounded confident, Miller’s expression was dubious. Carolyn laid a hand on his uninjured arm. “You can trust Dr. Hollins,” she said, her voice low and soothing.

“But what if he can’t save it?”

“He will!” Dwight wished he were as confident as Carolyn. He had amputated far too many limbs since this war had begun. All he could do was pray that the statesmen were right and that this was truly the war to end all wars. If this was the last time men had to fight, perhaps all the suffering Dwight had seen would not be in vain.

Carolyn reached for the chloroform. “You can trust the doctor.” As she prepared to slide the mask over Corporal Miller’s face, she gave him a conspiratorial smile. “My granny always said you could tell a mule’s character by the shape of his ears and a man’s by the shape of his thumbs.” She nodded toward Dwight. “Dr. Hollins has honest thumbs.”