Page 100 of The Girls of Pearl Harbor
Grace gripped the chair beside her and slowly lowered herself into it. They’d had a long day, and they’d both missed lunch, having only a foul-tasting cup of coffee each, and she wasn’t sure if it was the lack of food or the shock at what her sister had just told her that was making her feel light headed. She’d thought she’d be relieved when April got her job reinstated, but she hadn’t been expecting this.
‘The fighting has intensified, Operation Torch has begun, and too many men are dying waiting for help,’ April continued. ‘Look how many have arrived today, and we’ve lost so many of them.’
Grace shut her eyes, letting her face fall into her palms for a second as she tried to comprehend what was going on. ‘So you’ll be on the front line? I thought women weren’t allowed to be anywhere near the fighting?’
April’s voice dropped an octave. ‘We’ll be in the thick of it anyway if we don’t win, Grace. Have you thought about that?’
She shuddered and opened her eyes again, seeing the pain etched on April’s face. ‘No,’ she admitted. ‘I haven’t.’
April stood quietly, and Grace sat. Would Teddy be fighting right now, or had he moved on to somewhere else? She thought about him a lot; every night as she lay in bed, she wondered what might have happened to her if he hadn’t been there, if he hadn’t saved her.
And it was the same reason, what had happened to her that night, that made her terrified of volunteering to go with April. But if her sister was going, how could she not go with her?
‘Do you have any other nurses yet?’ she asked.
April shook her head. ‘Not that I know of.’
Grace took a big shuddering breath. ‘I’ll go too, then.’
April looked like she was about to burst into tears. ‘You will?’
‘I’m not letting you go alone, so yes, I’ll go. What about Eva?’
Grace didn’t think Eva was up to it—she’d barely recovered from what they’d been through in Pearl Harbor—but she didn’t want to presume.
‘Let’s go ask her,’ April said. ‘She’s been more like her old self lately, don’t you think?’
‘What I think is that Arthur’s finally realized how lucky he is to have a nurse as pretty and smart as Eva fussing over him all day.’
They both laughed, and Grace clasped April’s hand when she held it out, pulling her to her feet.
‘I feel like I hardly see you anymore,’ Grace said, dropping her head to April’s shoulder as they walked, leaning into her. ‘We seem to either be working or sleeping and nothing else.’
‘It’s only going to get worse too. Harry, I mean Dr. Evans, thinks we could end up treating hundreds if not a thousand patients between this week and next.’
‘Harry, huh?’ Grace teased. ‘You two are on a first-name basis now?’
April just grinned in reply, and they stopped beside Arthur’s bed. Grace was surprised to see him sitting upright, his cheeks freshly razored and his eyes bright, with one hand touching Eva’s. Eva had fallen asleep, her head tilted to the side where she sat on the stool beside Arthur’s bed, and his fingers had inched close to hers, the tips just touching.
‘Can’t you let her sleep a little longer?’ he asked, his voice low.
Grace saw the tender way he glanced down at Eva and wondered how on earth such a sullen, uninterested-in-life man could suddenly seem so human. Eva had obviously worked her magic on him.
She swapped glances with April and hoped her sister was thinking the same thing she was.
‘It’s fine. We’ve both finished our shift, and we were coming to collect her,’ Grace said.
‘You look after her, Arthur,’ April told him before she turned. ‘She’s looked after you from the second we found you, and she needs someone to take care of her.’
He gave them a little salute. ‘Yes, ma’am.’
Grace linked arms with her sister as they walked away. ‘You’re not going to ask her to join us, are you?’
‘No,’ April whispered. ‘Not now. Not when she’s finally getting back on her feet again. I don’t think it would be fair.’
‘Nurse!’
They both jumped back as more men were brought in, a wave of patients being run through the doors on stretchers.So much for getting something to eat and finally going to sleep.
