Homefront Hero (22 page)

John gave the only answer that came to him. “I doubt you’d believe me if I told you, sir.”

The general leaned back in his chair. “Try me.”

John had prayed all morning that Barnes would simply reprimand him and not demand an explanation. He was sure any attempt to convey all that had happened to him recently would fail miserably. Barnes didn’t look like the kind of man who’d embrace either a spiritual or a romantic motive, and John had no other explanation.

“You might as well sit down, Gallows,” Barnes interjected at John’s hesitation. “It looks to me like this is a long story and frankly I could use the diversion.”

John wondered if God wasn’t smiling somewhere. He’d prayed specifically for a short meeting, afraid that his passions would run away with his mouth if asked too many questions. Today his father was right when he called John “a man of too many words.” The simplest explanation seemed the best place to start. “A woman, sir.”

“I beg your pardon?”

“It wasn’t hard to glean what was coming from my last visit to your office. I found I couldn’t leave a particular woman to face it alone. Well, without me. Or rather, I suppose I couldn’t bear the thought of her falling ill and not being here.” The words sounded far more ridiculous than romantic.

General Barnes crossed his arms over his chest. “Surely you’re not telling me Nurse Sample survived because of your illustrious presence?”

John raised an eyebrow. He’d hoped not to name names.

“Captain Gallows, you’re anything but subtle and camp gossip is faster than the telegraph. I have one clerk drafting a list of charges to bring you up on while another is suggesting we should call
Era
magazine and give them the exclusive update.”

For once, John was speechless, his wobbly smile feeling foolish. “I’d rather you did neither.”

“I ought to do anything I please at the moment, rather than taking suggestions from the likes of you. How do I explain what you’ve done? I can’t very well let a highly visible, recently publicized soldier—an officer at that—get away with disobeying direct, self-preserving orders for
love
. You’ve got to give me another reason.”

God’s smile must have broadened. There was only one other reason, and it wouldn’t sit any better with the general than John’s first explanation. “You’ll like it less,” he quipped, swallowing the feeling he was facing a firing squad.

“There’s not much ‘less’ left in me, Gallows.” He leaned forward on his elbows with the expression of a man bracing for a hit to the stomach.

Chapter Thirty-Two

J
ohn recalled the Bible passage about Paul defending his refusal to obey orders of silence to Roman officials. He felt a particular affinity, the helplessness of trying to explain the relentlessness of God to someone who’d never experienced it. He couldn’t blame the general; two months ago, had someone given him the answer he was about to give Barnes, he would be balking, as well.

“Well, sir, I looked at those tickets, I knew what they represented, and all I can say is that I knew at that moment that God had led me to Columbia and I wasn’t supposed to leave it.”

Barnes looked understandably shocked.

“No one expected it less than me, sir. And I’ll be the first to admit that it makes no sense to anyone else. But that’s the honest truth. I knew, as much as I’ve known anything in my life—and certainly more than I knew on that dirigible—that I needed to stay. That the place I most needed to be was where God asked me to be, and that wasn’t Chicago. Or France.”

“God?” Barnes clearly would have preferred just about any other answer. “I ask you for a logical explanation to keep you from Courts-Martial and the best you can give me is
God
and
love?
” He squinted his eyes shut in frustration. “I don’t know why I’m surprised at this nonsense. I can’t fathom a
sensible
explanation for what you did.” He gave John an incredulous look. “You’ve put me in a hard place, Gallows. Of course you’re not the first soldier to have his head turned by a pretty nurse, and I suppose you’re not the first man to turn to his Maker in a foxhole, but you’ve done so
with the press watching
. Land sakes, son, the two of you were on the cover of
Era
. I can’t let it go, nor can it ever be known that you disobeyed direct orders without consequences. Miss Sample was the first South Carolinian to survive the influenza. I can’t just sweep y’all under a rug.”

“I understand your position, sir. I don’t regret what I did, though. Not for a moment.” After a pause, John asked, “Are you married, sir?”

Barnes managed an annoyed smirk. “Contrary to legend, I was young once. Your father introduced me to my wife, as a matter of fact. Mrs. Barnes was a great beauty and I made a bit of a fool of myself to catch her eye. I’m no heartless beast, John, but you’re no fool, either. You know what’s at stake here.”

“I do.” His heart and his soul were at stake, only he was sure Barnes didn’t see it that way.

“I’ve no idea what to do. I can’t honorably discharge you, but I can’t give you a dishonorable discharge without setting off a press ruckus. I had hoped your explanation would save you, but you’ve only given me more rope to hang you, son. Only I can’t hang you, and according to Madison, I can’t send you back into active duty. Ever.”

“I know.” John kept his voice neutral even though the finality of the general’s pronouncement stole the peace he’d been feeling up until a moment ago. He didn’t know what to be if he couldn’t be a soldier; he’d been raised to fill a uniform from his earliest days. He tried to remember God was in control, and his role wasn’t to wrangle his future, but to stand firm and tell the truth. The old John could have invented twenty salable explanations for his actions, could have concocted a variety of stories to meet the public need. In every aspect of this situation, the truth seemed not only useless, but downright harmful. “I do appreciate your position, sir.”

“‘You appreciate my position.’ Gallows, you pander like a confounded diplomat.” The general froze. “You
are
a diplomat. You can talk out of both sides of your mouth better than half the fellows up in Washington.” Barnes pointed at him. “Come to think of it, I can’t fathom a worse punishment for you than to send you into a post dripping with rules and protocol. A protocol officer. If we don’t have one, I’ll find a reason to need one. It’d serve you right, if it doesn’t kill you first. Why should I go through the trouble of Courts-Martialing you when I can send you someplace dreadful and force you to sit through endless speeches?”

John gulped. Should he protest, fortifying the general’s appetite for punishing him? Or congratulate him on a creative solution? He settled for something in between. “Exactly how would I be discharged, then?” He wasn’t even sure the general’s current plan involved a discharge. Did it matter?

“I have no idea. It’ll take me a month just to figure out how to set it all up through channels, so you can expect to be on base through November.”

“That’s fine, sir. I have a…commitment of sorts to keep in November.”

Barnes looked up. “Commitment?”

“To the Red Cross, if you remember.”

The general’s laugh filled the room. “The socks? The auction of your Red Cross sock? Confound it, Gallows, you’ll be the death of me yet.” He waved John off. “Dismissed until I can fathom what to do with you.”

John retrieved his cane and rose.

“John Gallows knits and gets religion. And here I thought I’d seen it all. Well, whatever you do,” Barnes added, “don’t tell me you’ll pray for me. I’m not sure I’m ready to hear that talk coming out of your highly publicized mouth.”

“I won’t,” John replied, but couldn’t help adding, “
tell
you, that is.”

Chapter Thirty-Three

Charleston, South Carolina
November 1918

M
ama touched Leanne’s arm as the Charleston Holiday Ball was winding to a close. “You feeling all right, honey? It’s been a long night.”

She wasn’t at full strength, but Leanne had enjoyed the evening despite so many missing people and decorations that were half as splendid as in years past. “I’m fine, Mama. Tired but fine.” She sighed. “It’ll be a somber sort of holiday season, don’t you think?”

“Too many families have empty places around the table.” Mama’s sigh matched her own. “Your grandmother will be sorely missed.” Nana had been in the last wave of influenza victims.

“You took good care of her,” Papa said with a hand on Leanne’s shoulder.

“I was glad of the chance.” She had still been on medical leave, and while she wasn’t strong enough to resume her hospital duties, Leanne had surprised herself by requesting two weeks’ leave to come home to Charleston and tend to Nana. Besides, Dr. Madison felt she’d have further immunity to contracting influenza—unlike her parents. It seemed, like John said of his trip to the campus, that God was clearly leading her to her Nana’s side. “We had so many wonderful conversations before she passed, Mama. I thank God every day for that time.”

Mama smiled through brimming eyes. “She loved you especially. She was glad to see you happy.”

Leanne looked at John, regal in his full dress uniform for perhaps the final time, smiling as he accepted the gushing thanks from a group of Red Cross leaders. He’d been asked by over two dozen Red Cross Chapters to give speeches in support of the knitting campaign before Armistice Day had announced the end of the war last week. Tonight at the Charleston Holiday Ball, his famous sock had brought in a record-breaking anonymous bid to raise funds for wounded soldiers. “I am dearly happy, Mama.”

“I gather you told Nana so?” Papa asked.

“Of course I did.” She’d told Nana all about John and what had transpired between them. Nana and Grandpappy had been a wartime romance, too, and Leanne heard many tender stories that cast the memory of her grandmother in whole new light.

“Well, now,” Mama said with a mysterious smile, “that explains everything.”

“Explains what?”

Papa reached into his coat. “Why your mother owns this, of course. Only we don’t think I should keep it. I believe it belongs to John.” To Leanne’s surprise, Papa produced a hideous olive-green sock.

“I think you ought to frame it, though—it’s certainly no good for wearing.” She chuckled, peering at the lopsided garment. “The top isn’t even the same size as the bottom from the looks of it.”

Leanne felt her jaw drop. “
You
bought John’s sock?”

“Actually your grandmother did. The last time we were together, she gave me money and told me to bid in secrecy.” Mama’s eyes brimmed over, and a single tear stole down her cheek. “Mother always did like a good surprise, and she wanted such a marvelous heirloom to stay in the family.”

Leanne pulled her mother into a quick, joyous hug. “John will be thrilled. I should go tell him.”

Papa stopped her as she turned. “No need, darlin’, he already knows.”

“You told him Mama was bidding on his sock?” John hadn’t given any hints of knowing what was afoot. He’d acted as surprised as everyone else when the emcee had announced the generous anonymous winning bid.

“It seemed only fair to let him know, seeing how he’s asked for your hand and all. I told you Nana wanted the sock to stay in the family.”

Leanne was having trouble breathing. “Mama, I…” She turned and looked at John, who was trying hard to pry his way out of a gaggle of Red Cross spinsters to make his way toward her. The look on his face told her he’d known everything all evening. “Papa, you…”

“Go save your beau, Leanne.” Papa’s voice was warm and joyous.

“Oh, he can take care of himself with those old hens.” Ida’s voice came from over Leanne’s other shoulder. “I’m gonna get my congratulations in first.” Ida’s fierce hug nearly sent Leanne to coughing.

“Did
everyone
know but me?” Leanne gasped, fanning her face in stunned shock.

“Only Colonel Gallows doesn’t know by now, and I expect he’ll know within the hour if not sooner.” Ida laughed.

Leanne wanted to shake her head and blink. God had granted her every single wish and more besides. “I’m stunned. I don’t know what to do.”

“I have a few ideas.” John came up from her other side and took her hand. “But I hope you’re not going to make me knit a second sock before you say yes.”

“No! I mean yes! Rather, yes, I’ll marry you but no, you won’t have to knit a sock.” She flew into John’s arms, knocking his cane from his hand and nearly sending him reeling. “A hundred yesses!”

Ida caught the cane and tried to hand it back to John, but Leanne happily ensured the captain was otherwise occupied. “I’d rather he lean on me.”

Epilogue

Era Magazine
Dateline: November 1919, Washington, DC
Headline: New Socks for Celebrated Knitting Couple

T
he war hero and nurse who charmed the nation’s heart into more Red Cross knitting have collaborated on their finest project to date. Sources close to the Red Cross told
Era
magazine that Mrs. John Gallows, now wife of diplomatic attaché and decorated former U.S. Army Captain John Gallows, will be knitting a new type of socks: baby booties. Readers will remember last year’s
Era
cover featuring Nurse Leanne Sample and Captain Gallows in the Red Cross promotion to encourage boys’ participation in the “Knit Your Bit” for the war campaign. That effort, and their survival of the subsequent influenza epidemic and quarantine that hit Camp Jackson, evidently joined more than just yarn to needles and the couple married this past spring.

Pink or blue? “Anything and everything but army green,” Gallows remarked with a smile when cornered by reporters last week. “We’ve had enough of that for a while.”

Congratulations, Mr. & Mrs. Gallows!
Era
couldn’t be more pleased that our little project paved the way for yours.

* * * * *