Page 57 of The Girls of Pearl Harbor
Eva opened her mouth and shut it again just as fast. It was easy for Grace to say that.
‘Out of the way!’
She looked up and saw Dr. Grey running toward them along with two corpsmen carrying a stretcher. Within seconds they’d hauled him up as the doctor bent over him, stethoscope in hand as he listened to his heart. The frown dragging his mouth down told her it wasn’t good, and she clung to Grace as Arthur was hurried away into the hospital. Dr. Grey ran beside the stretcher with April trailing behind. And then they were gone.
‘He’s going to die,’ Eva whispered. ‘I just know he’s not going to make it.’
Grace kept hold of her hand and dragged her into the hospital alongside her.
‘They’ll take him straight into surgery, and we can wait for news together,’ Grace said, still leading her.
Eva nodded, collapsing to the floor the moment they got close to the operating theater, her back sliding against the cool concrete wall. Her body had started to shake—she knew she was in shock—but it almost felt better than the numbness, the lack of any feeling, that she’d had up until today.
Three hours later, Eva’s eyes flew open. She gasped as Grace tugged her to her feet, watching as Dr. Grey walked out behind a stretcher that was heading for recovery. His face was impossible to read, but April was like an open book, her smile telling her the man had made it but the tears glistening in her eyes telling her there was more to the story than simply saving his life, that something had made her friend’s heart break despite him surviving. How had she fallen asleep while he was in surgery? She rubbed at her eyes and forced herself up.
‘Any word on who he is?’ Grey asked. He stopped by them, yawning and pulling his surgical cap off. He looked weary as he stared down at them.
‘We haven’t heard anything,’ Grace said for them both.
Suddenly there was a commotion as two air force pilots strode into the hospital, the medals on the jacket of the older man making it clear he was someone distinguished within their military.
‘Are you the doctor who performed surgery on Captain Arthur Jones?’ he asked.
Dr. Grey stepped forward. ‘I did just perform lifesaving surgery on a pilot found and brought in by three of my nurses. Someone can take you to see him for a formal identification if you would like?’
‘Arthur is one of the best pilots we have, Doctor. Thank you for your service.’
Dr. Grey’s face clouded over, and Eva looked between him and the pilots, wondering what he was thinking. He’d just said he’d saved his life, hadn’t he?
‘I’ll take you, sir,’ Eva blurted, her voice sounding stronger, more resilient, than she’d expected.
‘Thank you.’
Eva didn’t look back at Grace or April. She walked through the corridor, listening to the loud, heavy-booted footsteps of the men echoing behind her. The recovery ward where they watched their high-risk patients after surgery wasn’t full, and she could see Arthur’s dark head of hair, knew exactly what bed he was in as she moved toward him.
‘You said he’s one of our best pilots?’ she asked.
‘Yes, ma’am, he’s our most highly decorated pilot. He temporarily left our service to fly for the Eagles—successfully, I might add—and then he returned to our service to take over command of a squadron. He’s the best we have.’
Eva blinked away tears. They shuddered within her, threatening but not falling, as she watched Arthur’s face, wondering when those brilliant-blue eyes would open and focus on her again. This man had done what her Charlie couldn’t. He’d followed his beliefs, listened to his gut, and instead of being shunned by their armed forces for defying orders as they’d threatened, he’d been welcomed back with open arms.
She took the final step toward his bed, the pilots right behind her. ‘We found him out in the ...’
No. No, no, no!
She slammed her fist to her mouth, silencing her cry as she stared at the bed. At the empty space where one of his legs should have been. At the puckered blanket tucked around one leg, at the sight of half a lower body in the bed. Arthur had been tall and strong—he’d been a big, heavy man—and now one of his legs had been discarded as if it had never existed in the first place.
‘Aww, hell, Art,’ the younger pilot muttered, his hand flying to cover his mouth as he started to swear.
‘Was,’ the pilot in charge muttered.
‘What?’ Eva asked, the word choking in her throat.What did he say?
‘Hewasour finest pilot. He won’t be flying a goddamn plane ever again now, will he?’
Eva shuddered, listening to the men walk away as she stared at Arthur, slowly lowering herself onto the stool next to his bed to wait. She wasn’t going to let him find out on his own; she’d wait all night if she had to.
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
