On Distant Shores (4 page)

A tingly sensation filled her belly. She needed a new project, and John Hutchinson might be the one.

Gela
July 20, 1943

Hutch squinted through the eyepiece of his telescope. Only three days had passed since the full moon, so the night was brighter than he liked for stargazing, but Hutch never wasted an opportunity. The quiet ridge separating the 93rd Evac from the airfield had beckoned.

The binary star Algieba in the constellation Leo winked at him, low on the western horizon.

The cooler night air, the chirp of cicadas, and the stars in their familiar shifting patterns eased the twinges of pain in his stomach.

On his way to the enlisted men’s mess for supper, he’d run into Bergie and they’d discussed the heavy patient load. Capt. Al Chadwick, one of Bergie’s tent mates, summoned Bergie for an emergency surgery. After Bergie left, Chadwick gave Hutch a long look. “Don’t you have anything to do, boy?”

The pain flared, and Hutch pressed his hand against his rib cage. Dad had served as a pharmacist for almost thirty years, and no one had ever called him “boy.”

Something rustled in the grass behind him.

Hutch sucked in his breath. Like all medical personnel, he was unarmed. The Allies had made rapid advances the last few days, but the Germans were famous for leaving troops to wreak havoc behind the lines.

More rustling. Someone walked straight toward him. What could he do? Whack him on the head with his telescope? And what was the parole and countersign for the Husky landings? That’s right—“George” and “Marshall” for the Army Chief of Staff. Hutch cleared his throat. “George!”

Feminine laughter greeted him. “Close. My name’s Georgie. I’m a nurse.”

A sigh rushed out. “Georgie Taylor? What are you doing out at night?”

“Hutch? Is that you?”

“Yeah.” He stifled a quick thrill that the cute nurse recognized his voice. “What are you doing out here? It isn’t safe.”

“When I’m nervous, I can’t sleep. And when I can’t sleep, I have to walk. But I stay close, and I know they cleared the area of land mines. Is that a telescope?”

“Yeah. It’s a hobby of mine.”

“Mind if I join you?” She sat on the blanket next to him without waiting for an answer.

A smile edged up. So much for his quiet evening. He looked into his telescope again. Algieba disappeared below the horizon. “Be my guest.”

“Thanks again for the aspirin. I don’t know what we’d have done without it.”

“You’re welcome.” She’d already thanked him profusely when he delivered it to the airfield the other day. He liked the way her Southern accent swirled “thank you” into “than-kee-you.”

“What are you looking at?”

“You’re interested? Or are you just making conversation?”

Georgie hugged her knees. She seemed to be wearing pajamas and a bathrobe. “I always liked looking at the stars with Daddy. Orion’s my favorite.”

“One of mine too, but he won’t be out until long after midnight.” He rotated the tripod so his telescope faced Cygnus. “You’ll like this.”

“What is it?”

“Let me get it focused. There we go.” He scooted to the side.

She held back her hair and gazed through the eyepiece. “What am I—oh, isn’t that pretty? One’s blue, one’s yellow.”

“That’s Albireo. It’s a double star that forms the head of Cygnus the Swan.”

“That’s just about the most beautiful thing, isn’t it? God is so colorful and creative.”

“Yep.” He motioned Georgie to the side and readjusted the telescope. “That’s one of the reasons I like stargazing. It also reminds me how big he is and how little I am.”

“What are you showing me next?” Enthusiasm lit her voice.

“You can see this without a telescope. If you want to see signs of God in the sky, you can’t get better than this.” He traced a pattern with his finger. “From Albireo, draw a straight line that way, through those two bright stars, then another line that way.”

“It’s a cross.”

“The Northern Cross. The Greeks called it Cygnus. They say Zeus disguised himself as a swan to make Leda fall in love with him.” He made a face. Not the best story to tell when he was alone with a girl at night.

“Those Greek gods always made a mess of things, didn’t they?”

Hutch chuckled, conscious of the feminine presence beside
him. Would Phyllis believe this was innocent? What about Georgie’s boyfriend? What would the man think about his girl traipsing about at night?

He readjusted the telescope. “You said you couldn’t sleep because you were nervous?”

“I shouldn’t have said that.” A deep sigh. “I suppose I can tell you. You don’t seem like the kind of man who’d blab other people’s business.”

“Never blabbed in my life.”

Georgie didn’t speak, which seemed unusual for her, so Hutch tightened the screws on his tripod.

“All right,” she said. “I’m a big ol’ fraidy-cat. I try to be brave, but I’ve never been so close to the front, and the flights are more dangerous here than over North Africa. Worst of all, I’m afraid something will happen, and I’ll freeze, and I won’t help my patients.”

Hutch straightened. The moonlight illuminated anxiety on her face.

She hugged her knees tighter. “I don’t know why I told you that. Mellie kind of knows, but she thinks I’m over it, and Lieutenant Lambert—she suspects—but I’ve never blurted it all out before.”

He nodded. He had that effect on people. “I’m quiet. I’m safe.”

Her shoulders lowered. “That must be it. My daddy’s the same way. He makes me talk more by saying nothing than Mama does with a million words.”

Hutch turned his attention to the telescope. What was he going to show her again?

“You must think I’m horrible.”

“Horrible?” He snapped his gaze back to her. “Of course not. But I wonder . . .”

“Wonder what?”

“Well, flight nursing is voluntary. Like everything in the Army Air Forces. So how’d you end up in the program?”

“Simple. I followed Rose.”

“Rose?”

“She’s my best friend. When she found out about medical air evacuation, she had to be a part of it, so I came along too.”

Hutch leaned back on his hands, and his gaze followed the bright streak of the Milky Way. “So you did something you didn’t want to because of a friend.”

“Yes, but it’s worth it. We need each other. And I’ll do fine. Sicily’s nerve-wracking, but I’ll adjust.”

High overhead, the North Star sat immovable while all the constellations swung around, changing with the time and the season. “Do other people always make decisions for you?”

“Excuse me?” Her voice tightened.

That did sound rude. “It’s—you’re the baby of the family, aren’t you?”

A small laugh. “And you accused me of playing psychologist.”

“Well, are you?”

“Yes.” She stretched the word around like a piece of elastic.

“I thought so. You remind me of my youngest sister, Lizzie. Everyone’s always made decisions for her, and she likes it that way. She’s always running to Dad, Mom, me—‘What should I do, John? Tell me.’”

“And you tell her like a good brother.”

“I used to. Then I realized she had to grow up and make her own decisions. I give her advice, help her weigh her options, but I refuse to tell her what to do.”

Georgie eased back. “Do you think I need to grow up too?”

He’d stepped into that one, hadn’t he? “Wait a minute. First of all, I don’t know you that well. What’s important is—do you think you need to grow up?”

“I am grown-up. I made the decision to come here on my own. Yes, I followed Rose, but my parents and Ward didn’t want me to come.”

“There’s your answer.” He returned to the telescope. “Want to see something else?”

“Oh yes.” She sprang to her knees and scooted closer.

Hutch caught his breath and edged to the side. “It’s a little group of stars that looks like a coat hanger. Right there below Cygnus’s beak. Almost as if the swan dropped it in flight.”

“Isn’t that cute?” She gazed through the telescope while the moonlight cast arcs of light on her curls.

He looked away, down the slight rise to the hospital complex, its tents in perfect military order.

“How’d you end up here, Hutch?”

“Drafted.”

“When?”

“First round. Got inducted December of ’40. I was only supposed to serve a year, but you know the story.”

“Pearl Harbor.”

“I was there.”

She gasped. “You were there?”

“Well, I was on Oahu. Serving at Tripler Army Hospital. We weren’t bombed, but we dealt with the casualties.”

“Oh my goodness. Then you transferred to the 93rd?”

A wave of fatigue caught up to him. It had to be close to midnight. “The Army transferred me to the 5th General Hospital at Fort Dix in January ’42. Got sent to Northern Ireland, then to England. This May, I got orders to transfer to the 93rd in Algeria. Got off the boat, and there’s Bergie. Turns out it was his doing.”

“So . . .” A teasing lilt danced through her voice. “Do other people always make decisions for you?”

He laughed. “Okay, I deserved that.”

“Yes, you did.”

“In the Army, the only decision I made was being a pharmacist, and that was only because my dad has friends in Congress who yanked strings.”

“Friends in Congress?”

Hutch drew in his feet to sit cross-legged. “He’s a pharmacist too, a leader in the American Pharmaceutical Association. They’re working on legislation to create a Pharmacy Corps, so the Army will use pharmacists properly and as officers, and the soldiers will get the same safe care they do at home. The state of pharmacy in the military stinks, so Dad wanted me to provide eyewitness testimony. Which I’ve done.”

“You’re a good son.”

“Yep.” A firm nod. “I’m Isaac.”

Georgie’s laugh bubbled low like water in a brook. “Isaac? Like in the Bible?”

“My father’s like Abraham, a great man and leader, and I’m the ‘son of the promise’ set to follow in his footsteps. Like Isaac, I even needed help to find my future wife.”

“So . . .” There was that lilt again. “Did your daddy ever put you on the altar?”

He laughed. “In a way. I could have taken an officer’s commission and served in another capacity, but I chose to practice my profession instead.”

“So you went willingly, like Isaac.”

“Yes. I sacrificed for a good cause.”

Georgie rested her chin on her knees. “That must help you be content.”

Hutch screwed the telescope off its tripod. He needed to get some sack time. “Content? Nope. Contentment would mean surrender to the status quo. I’m fighting for a better system.”

“Hmm.” She rolled the edge of the blanket in her fingers. “Does that require sacrificing your peace?”

Peace? In the middle of war? But after all, wasn’t that what God promised? Hutch laid his telescope in its case.

The petite brunette sat beside him in the moonlight. He’d challenged her, and now she challenged him. Beneath that charming vulnerability lay admirable strength.

He held out his hand. “How about a deal? You learn to make your own decisions, and I’ll learn to be content.”

“Deal.” Her tiny cool hand slipped into his.

He shook her hand and dropped it. Quick. He never ran from a challenge, but he always ran from temptation.

Valle dei Templi, Agrigento, Sicily
July 24, 1943

“Can you believe this is 2,500 years old?” Georgie’s gaze climbed the columns of the Temple of Hera. The roof was long gone, but columns still soared skyward. “I never thought we’d see Greek ruins in Sicily.”

“Mm-hmm.” Mellie Blake looked down the sun-baked slope to the Mediterranean.

Georgie and Rose exchanged a worried glance. Only depression could dull Mellie’s interest in sightseeing.

That morning, Vera and Alice framed Mellie and made it look as if she’d pulled a nasty prank on them. To top it off, Lieutenant Lambert believed Vera and Alice’s side of the story.

Rose hooked her arm through Mellie’s. “Don’t worry. We believe you.”

Georgie cringed. They came on this trip to take Mellie’s mind off her troubles, not to focus on them.

Mellie lifted a feeble smile. “I know.”

If they were on the subject, they might as well talk it all the way through. Georgie took Mellie’s other arm and led the ladies along the ridge toward the next of the seven temples. “I don’t understand why they’d do such a thing.”

“They’re just mean,” Rose said.

Georgie shook her head and found the path through the olive trees. “They’re nurses and good ones. They care. There has to be a reason, but I can’t imagine what it could be. What do they have against you?”

Mellie’s chin lifted, and pain flickered through her exotic dark eyes. “I refuse to gossip.”

“It’s not gossip if you’re defending yourself.”

“In this case, it would be. Can we talk about something else?”

“You want to talk about Tom?” Rose asked in a gentle voice. A week before, Mellie had evacuated her pen pal to Tunisia with a raging fever. He still hadn’t figured out her identity, and Mellie refused to tell him.

Mellie gazed into the distance as if nothing lay before her. “I wish I knew how he was doing.”

Georgie patted her arm. “They have us flying so often, you’re sure to get a chance to go to Tunisia. You said he’s at the hospital right by the airfield in Mateur.”

“True.” Some light returned to her eyes. “I’m praying hard for him.”

“We are too, honey.”

“Yes, we are,” Rose said.

“You two are the best of friends. I’m so glad I met you.” Her pace picked up. “You and Tom have been good for me. You know a relationship is strong when it makes you grow.”

Georgie and Rose murmured their agreement. Georgie had seen that with Clint and Rose as well. And with her and Ward . . .

She frowned and ducked around an olive tree, its leaves fragrant and dusty. Ward helped her grow, didn’t he?

“Oh my,” Mellie said. “Would you look at that?”

Farther along the ridgeline stood a temple, completely intact, the Temple of Concordia.

Rose shielded her eyes against the afternoon sun. “Why do they call it the Valley of Temples when it’s along a ridge?”

“The Ridge of Temples.” Georgie cocked her head to one side. “Not very poetic.”

“It would be if you said it in Italian.”

Georgie smiled at the perk in Mellie’s voice.

Before long they stood in front of the Temple of Concordia. Triangular pediments crowned elegant Doric columns with their simple capitals. Hutch would enjoy the Valle dei Templi with his knowledge of constellations and Greek mythology.

A ripple of sadness. She probably wouldn’t see the quiet pharmacist again. Although the British were bogged down on the east coast of Sicily, the Americans had cleared the entire western half of the island and seized Palermo on the north coast. Today the 802nd had transferred forty miles north to Agrigento. Who knew where the 93rd Evac would go?

Still, Georgie treasured their short friendship. Hutch had made her uncomfortable when he implied she didn’t make her own decisions, but he had a point. Perhaps she needed to change and grow. What if something happened to Ward? To her parents? Where would she turn?

She studied the classic lines of the Greek temple. Concordia meant peace, and Georgie needed to grow to find it.

A bowl of Atabrine tablets sat on a table in the doorway to the officers’ mess tent.

Georgie picked out her daily dose, and the clerk checked off her name.

She stepped away and stared at the little yellow pill. What if she didn’t take it? What if she left a gap in her mosquito netting? A rip-roaring case of malaria could get her sent home.

Heart pounding, she slipped the tablet in her trouser pocket.
She didn’t belong here. Lieutenant Lambert would welcome the excuse to replace Georgie with a competent nurse.

A medical discharge, and Georgie could marry Ward and settle down on his farm and raise lots of apples and tomatoes and babies. She could still help the war effort at home. With her energy and enthusiasm, she could raise money, gather scrap, and improve morale.

She belonged in Virginia.

Georgie settled on a camp stool next to Rose and Mellie, and gave them a cheery greeting, although the Atabrine tablet sat heavy and hot in her pocket.

“Mail came.” Rose passed Georgie a square V-mail envelope.

Georgie sighed and opened the letter from Ward. V-mail was patriotic but not terribly romantic. His single sheet of paper was photographed stateside, the film was shipped overseas, and the letter was printed one-quarter size and delivered. The V-mail system freed precious shipping space for troops, weapons, and supplies, but Ward wasn’t required to use it. Why couldn’t he send a long letter like Tom sent Mellie?

She smiled and peered at the tiny handwriting. For Ward, V-mail was a long letter.

Dear Georgie,

How are you? All is well here. I have a bumper crop of tomatoes, and prices are solid.

I wish you could be here to see the harvest, but I’m looking forward to showing you the farm soon. You’ll like it.

How much longer until you come home? I want to marry you more than ever. It’s hard to run both the farm and a house. I had to hire
Pearline Gibbs to clean and cook for me. Don’t worry though. You alone have my heart.

Myrtle Ferguson came home on furlough last week after training with the WAVES. You wouldn’t recognize her, she’s gotten so hard and headstrong. That’s what the military does to girls, and it isn’t natural.

Every night I pray that won’t happen to you. I don’t want you to change one whit. I want my Georgie back same as she’s always been.

Around the tent, nurses laughed and chatted. Nothing hard or headstrong about them. While strong and confident, they remained compassionate and feminine.

Georgie alone lacked strength.

Ward didn’t want her to change one whit. But what if she needed to change? Everyone did. Only the Lord was perfect.

Hutch was right. She needed to learn to make her own decisions.

Although she longed for the comforts of home and family, comfort wouldn’t help her grow. Perhaps she needed discomfort, a little dirt and danger in her life.

Only one question mattered. What was God’s will? Did he want her home with Ward? Or did he want her in Sicily with her friends?

Georgie rested her hand in her lap, on the hard lump of Atabrine. Her plan to get a medical discharge was unethical, and worse—she was trying to manipulate God’s will to match hers.

She slipped the tablet out of her pocket and into her mouth. If the Lord wanted her to go home, he’d make a way.