Page 109 of The Girls of Pearl Harbor
‘For the record, I’m going to miss you too,’ she said, pleased that he couldn’t see her. She doubted the words would have come so easily if he could have. ‘I don’t have a lot to look forward to when I get home, and being here is, well, it is what it is.’
‘I need you to take me down there.’ He pointed. ‘To the village. I want to go into the Arab quarter.’
She shrugged, not fazed about having to walk so far. Until she realized how much mud they were going to encounter. ‘Ah, I’m not so sure I can get you all the way there. I think we’d end up with the wheelchair stuck and—’
‘Fine, just take us somewhere we can stop, then.’
Eva didn’t bother telling him off for being so short with her; she just started to push, liking the feel of her arms burning as she propelled his chair forward. He could work it himself now, and he did through the ward and inside, but she liked to push him outside. It gave her something to do, and it was easier on him.
‘Here’s fine,’ he ordered.
Eva stopped pushing and walked around the chair, her arms folded. ‘What’s put you in such a grumpy mood today? You’re almost like the Art I met all those months ago. Do you remember him?’
He grunted. ‘Oh, I remember.’
‘Well?’
He sighed. ‘Tell me what your plan is when you eventually get sent home. Are you going back to your father?’
She stared at the ground, not wanting to think about it. Everything had changed for her when Charlie had died.Everything.Tears clung to her lashes as she gulped down the ugly truth, hating how scared she was, hating the shell of a person she’d become after losing everything. She wanted to be that girl on the USSSolace, the girl with a future, the girl with a fiancé, the girl who didn’t have to be scared of her monster of a father ever again.
‘Eva?’
She let out her breath and swallowed, blinking away her tears. ‘I honestly don’t know. I’ve written to my mother, but she’ll only say that my father is the head of the household and whatever he says goes.’ She cleared her throat and raised her eyes. ‘I wouldn’t go back to a house with him in it for anything.’
‘Just because your father earns the money in your household doesn’t give him the right to lay his hands on you or your mother,’ Art fumed. ‘He doesn’t deserve to ever see you again, and neither does she for allowing it to happen!’
‘Please don’t worry—I should never have told you in the first place,’ she said, trying to disguise the wobble in her voice with a small smile. ‘I can stay with the Bellamys in Oregon for a bit; they’ve been so kind to me, and I’m sure I’ll be able to scrape together enough money to—’
‘I wanted to go into town for a reason today,’ Art said, folding his arms across his chest. ‘Go and pick me some of that grass, would you? A few decent bits.’
Eva laughed and studied his face. ‘Grass? We go from me opening up to you about my family tograss?’
‘Goddammit—just do it for me, would you, Eva?’
She saluted him and went off to pick the grass, bemused. At least it gave her a moment to collect her thoughts.
She had no idea what was going on with Art, and she wasn’t about to ask. She tried to remember Charlie then, but she couldn’t see his face clearly, as if a whole lot of memories were blurring together and stopping her from seeing his features.
Eva bent to pick some grass and returned to Art, holding it out. ‘Here you go,’ she said.
‘Turn around, and walk a few steps away,’ he said.
Eva obliged, turning her back and wandering, staring up at the sky, which looked gray and swirling, like it was about to unleash another torrent of rain on them.
‘Can I look now?’ she asked.
There was no reply, so she kept waiting.
‘Art?’
‘Turn around,’ he said in a low voice, and she slowly did as he said.
‘What’s going on? What are you up to?’ she asked. ‘You’re not about to play a trick on me, are you?’
Art laughed, but it sounded like more of a grunt. ‘No tricks. Just come closer, and sit on my knee.’
Eva’s face was on fire as she slowly moved closer, carefully lowering herself to his knee, nervous all of a sudden. ‘Are you sure about this? I don’t want to hurt you ... I ...’ Her words disappeared as she saw the look in his eyes, the change in him. ‘Art?’
