K.T. was doing his best to avoid Wendy by going to the hospital early each morning, before her shift started, to have a new bandage put on his back. Nurse Manning, who always seemed to be there, had looked surprised that first morning, and had reminded him that Wendy didn’t start her shift until eight.
He’d explained that he needed to be at the shipyard before eight, which had almost backfired when she’d reminded him that he hadn’t been released for full duty.
That hadn’t happened yet, but would soon, and in the interim, he was going to the shipyard by eight each morning and spending all day in meetings with others going over the current conditions and writing estimates for the ships that needed to be repaired.
The USS Pennsylvania, which had been in dry dock the day of the attack, had already been repaired and set sail for Portland, Oregon, in December. The USS Helena had been moved to dry dock, repaired, and had set sail earlier this week for San Francisco. The USS Honolulu was in dry dock now, as was the Vestal.
He would be glad when the time finally came for him to suit up and do the job he’d been trained to do, because they were greatly limited on the number of underwater welders in comparison to the tasks that needed to be done. There was still a list of ships that needed underwater work in order for them to be hauled into dry dock.
Being back at work, even in the limited capacity, was good and kept him occupied for the greater parts of the day, but it didn’t prevent him from thinking about Wendy. Didn’t stop him from missing her smiling face, her cheery disposition, and her opinions on topics large and small.
With a disgusted shake of his head, he reached for another slip of paper and laid it on the desk in front of him. He missed her, damn it, and he shouldn’t.
Better yet, he wouldn’t.
As he had several times over the past week, he started a letter to Betty.
Another letter.
He’d started at least one a night since leaving the hospital.
Not a one had he finished or mailed.
That would not happen again tonight. He’d finish this one and mail it. To aid in his determination, he opened a drawer and pulled out the envelope that held several pictures of his family. One was of him and Betty when a carnival had been in Guymon nearly five years ago. It had cost ten cents to have their picture taken of her sitting on his lap in front of an elephant. You couldn’t see anything of the elephant in the picture, because it had been behind a high wall, which had disappointed Betty after she’d waited the two hours for the photo to be developed.
He grinned at the remembrance of that. The missing elephant was the reason he’d ended up with the picture. She’d wanted the photo of the elephant as proof to having seen an elephant, but without the elephant in the picture, she’d said that no one would believe she’d seen an elephant. He’d offered to pay for another picture, but she’d declined, claiming she’d rather have another ride on the Ferris wheel, so that’s what they’d done.
After leaving home, he’d kept the picture in his billfold, but it had started to wear and fade, so he now kept it in the envelope with others from home, protecting the image.
They were both looking at the camera, smiling, and he could remember having the picture taken with clarity, yet, couldn’t remember how he felt having her sit on his lap. Had it made his heart pound? His breath lock in his lungs? His pulse echo in his ears?
In truth, he couldn’t remember any of those things happening at any time.
Except for when Wendy would crawl underneath the bed and look up at him with those ocean-blue eyes. Or arrive next to his bed, touch his hand, or—
Disgusted all over again, he attempted to get his mind back on Betty by recalling that she had blue eyes, too. The picture didn’t reveal that, because it was in black-and-white, and he couldn’t remember if they were ocean blue, because he hadn’t seen the ocean yet back then.
A knock rapped on his door, and it pushed open a crack before he had a chance to respond.
“Hey, Lieutenant,” Chaz Martin, one of his welders said while sticking his head through the opening. “Someone wants to see you out front.”
“Okay.” K.T. dropped the picture into the envelope and put it back in the drawer while standing up. As he walked to the door, he made sure his white uniform shirt was tucked tightly into his uniform shorts. It wasn’t yet dark, and the men who’d just gotten off work were most likely gathered on the chairs out front, enjoying a short reprieve before the sun went down. The nine o’clock curfew was strongly enforced island wide.
He walked down the hall to the main door, and out of the window saw several men seated in chairs. Divers were still assigned to underwater assessments and one of them probably had a question to do with that.
When he pushed open the door, and caught sight of all the occupants of the wooden chairs, his heart dang near beat its way out of his chest. It had been six days since he’d seen her.
Six days and six nights.
Barely a moment of that time had gone by when he’d hadn’t wondered how he would react upon seeing her, merely by accident, because he was doing his best to not see her.
Now he knew how he’d react.
He’d stand there awestruck, just as he was doing right now.
With that endearing dimple-filled smile, she stood. “Good evening, Lieutenant McCallister, I hope I’m not disturbing you.”
Damn if his mouth hadn’t gone completely dry on him. His throat, too. He had to clear it in order to speak, and that was disturbing in front of all the other sets of eyes staring at him. “No, not at all,” he replied.
“I was hoping I could speak with you for a moment,” she said.
“Sure.” He couldn’t take her inside, but didn’t need every man in his unit hearing her ask why he was avoiding her. She’d have figured that out by now. Pointing toward the edge of the building, where there were more chairs set up around the corner, he said, “This way.”
She bade goodbye to the group of men sitting in the chairs grinning at her and him. Many of them had visited him in the hospital, and, knowing her, she’d probably remembered every one of their names. Whereas right now, he wasn’t sure if he remembered his own name.
They walked in silence, side by side, until they’d rounded the corner, then he said, “Sorry, I’ve missed you at the hospital, I’ve needed to be at the shipyard early every day.”
“Gloria, I mean Nurse Manning, told me that,” she said. “And that your wound is continuing to close up. How does it feel? Sore? Itchy? Hot?”
“It feels fine, Nurse Smith.” He gestured to two chairs. “Do you want to sit down?”
“Sure, thank you.”
Not so surprisingly, he couldn’t pull his eyes off her. He tried, but his eyes didn’t listen any better than the rest of him. She was wearing a blue dress, light blue, with a white collar and thin belt around her waist, and her dark, thick hair was free, hanging down around her shoulders. Ignoring her, forgetting her, would be a lot easier if she wasn’t unforgettably pretty. And nice, and caring, and delightful, and numerous other things.
He waited until she was seated, before sitting down in the chair next to her, still unable to look away.
“I have something I need to ask you,” she said, sounding nervous and clutching the handle of the white purse sitting on her lap. “Or tell you.”
Concern rose quickly. “What’s that? Is something wrong?”
“No.” She grimaced. “I, well, I hope not. I don’t think so, but I guess that’s up to you to decide.”
Perplexed by her nervous, yet earnest tone, he asked, “What is it?”
She looked down at her purse as she opened it. “I received a letter from my cousin Sid, Uncle Sy’s son who is a lawyer, and I do need to respond to him, but I wanted you to read it first.”
Growing concerned, he reached over and laid a hand on her arm. “Has something happened to your aunt or uncle?”
“No, nothing like that.” She pulled an envelope out of her purse. “I wrote to Sid after I read the letter from your mother, the first one where your father had told those surveyors to stay off your property.”
He recalled the letter, but had no idea what her cousin Sid had to do about it, and waited for her to say more.
“I asked Sid if he knew of a lawyer who might help your family,” she said.
“There was no need for you to do that.” His family didn’t have the money to pay for a lawyer, not a Nebraska one or an Oklahoma one.
“I know I didn’t need to, but I did, and I hope you aren’t upset about that.” She held out the letter. “I think you should read what Sid had to say.”
He took the letter, but only because she’d made the point of walking all the way over here for him to see it. A lawyer was the last person who would change his father’s mind, but for her and her efforts, he began to read. The first paragraph was full of how grateful they all were to hear from her and that she’d survived the attack. Then, her cousin went on to say he’d be interested in talking to the family she’d mentioned from Oklahoma. He was already working on a multistate land and mineral rights case, because natural gas was a principal source of helium, a gas that was in great demand to help with the war effort.
K.T. knew that. Helium was one of the gases used in diving and welding, but it was also used to fly the big barrage balloons used in the navy’s anti-submarine efforts. His interest was spiked even higher as he continued to read.
Sid went on to explain how the production of liquefied natural gas was reaching unprecedented heights and how modernized seismographic equipment was able to detect gas fields with great accuracy. Ultimately, Sid made it sound like his family would greatly benefit from having the property surveyed, and the Oklahoma lawyers involved with him would make sure they were treated fairly by the oil company, who would pay all of the surveying costs.
From the way it was worded, it wouldn’t cost his family anything if gas wasn’t found, and if it was found, the gas company would pay for the equipment, and his family would receive dividends per barrel.
Cautious by nature, he read parts of the letter a second time, letting it sink in deeper. “This sounds too good to be true,” he said aloud, half talking to himself.
“I know,” Wendy replied. “That’s why I wanted you to read it. Sid wouldn’t say those things if they weren’t true. I promise you that. But I didn’t feel I could write to him, give him your family’s name and address without your consent.”
There was no reason for him to not believe her or her cousin. In fact, there were several reasons for him to believe her. She was as honest as the day was long, and truly cared about others. Cared so much about people she didn’t even know that she’d written to her cousin about them.
A distinct stomach-churning realization came to him. She’d done that, had written to Sid about his family, because of him.
“I wrote to Sid,” she said, as if reading his mind, “because I consider you my friend, K.T., besides your nurse, and I—I, well, I like helping my friends.”
He nodded, while his mind searched for proof that he considered her as nothing more than a friend. Or perhaps, he was searching to figure out what he did consider her. She was more than an acquaintance. “We have been through a lot together,” he said aloud, still working through his thoughts.
“We have.” She grinned and shrugged one shoulder. “We have a trophy to prove it.”
He chuckled. “We do, at that.”
“Should I send Sid your father’s name and address?”
Sometimes in life, there was only one choice. “Yes, and I’ll write to my father, giving him Sid’s name, and yours, so he’s not caught off guard and doesn’t say something he shouldn’t.”
She giggled. “Sid is used to Uncle Sy, who can say things he shouldn’t more often than not, despite Aunt Ella’s warnings.”
“One more thing we have in common?”
Her smile grew even bigger. “I guess so.”
He handed her back the letter. “Thank you, Wendy.”
She tucked the letter back in her purse and clasped it shut. “All I did was write a letter, but I do hope for the best. I truly do.”
For more than a moment he was transfixed by the glimmer in her eyes that was brighter than the noonday sun shining on blue ocean waters. An intense rush of desire was what made him pull his eyes off her, and bite his back teeth together. He let out a small cough, hoping to get his mind and body back in control. “I hope for the best, too.”
“Well, I suppose I should get back,” she said. “I don’t want to be caught out after curfew.”
“No, you don’t.” He stood and held out a hand, helped her stand. “And you aren’t walking anywhere. I’ll drive you.”
“You shouldn’t be driving,” she argued. “Dr. Bloomberg hasn’t given you permission to do that.”
He gave her hand a squeeze. “I like friend Wendy better than Nurse Smith.”
“Oh, really?” she asked.
Chuckling, he shook his head and gave her hand a little tug. “No, not really, but friend Wendy I can tell that I’ve been driving every day, all around the base, and she wouldn’t tell Dr. Bloomberg.”
Pinching her lips together as she looked up at him, she shook her head.
“Am I right?” he asked.
She sighed. “Yes, you are right.”
“Good.”
She gave him a sideways glance as they walked toward the parking lot. “As long as I witness that driving won’t hamper your healing.”
He laughed. “That will be easy to prove.” The seat of the utility rig had a low seat that barely came up to the middle of his back, well below his bandaged area.
Wendy had seen the general-purpose vehicles called jeeps that were proclaimed to go anywhere and do anything, but had never ridden in one. There were no doors or a top on the shiny gray vehicle. Just one wide seat in the front, a windshield, and a small, flat cargo area behind the seat.
She climbed in on the passenger side, and wasn’t sure if she was excited over the ride, Sid’s offer that K.T. had agreed with, or seeing him. That alone was exciting. He’d been handsome while in the hospital, but seeing him in his white uniform, standing tall and straight as he’d walked out of the door of his living quarters earlier, had been like watching a sunrise. A sight that was indescribable to those who hadn’t seen it.
It was more than his looks, though. His stance alone signified how upstanding, confident, and honorable he was. All things she knew to be fully true.
Memories of the last time she’d seen him dressed all in white had instantly flashed in her mind and her heart had fluttered as hard as it had while dancing with him that night. That feeling had remained with her, even while she’d been nervous to tell him about Sid’s letter.
The nervousness wasn’t so much about the letter or Sid’s offer, it had been because she still had another letter to tell him about. She’d considered bringing it with her tonight, but figured one letter was enough.
“See,” he said. “The back of the seat isn’t high enough to come in contact with my bandage.”
She did see that, and nodded.
“Want to know something else?” he asked as he started the engine.
“Yes,” she answered.
He shifted the gear stick and backed up out of the parking space. “I drive this jeep to the hospital every morning.”
She believed him, and to be honest, during her walk from her living quarters to his, she’d thought about him walking that far back and forth each day, and was glad that he wasn’t doing that. It wasn’t a long trek, but had been longer than she’d imagined.
“What else have you been doing every day?” she asked.
“Not much.” He steered out of the parking lot and onto the road. “Mainly sitting in a chair, going over drawings of the damaged ships.”
“Will you repair all of them?”
“That’s yet to be determined, but we hope to,” he replied. “The Bureau of Construction and Repair in Washington, DC, sent out Captain Jeffrey Heinz to oversee the Salvage Division. He arrived last week. I like him. He’s committed and set a goal to assess every ship, and fix the ones we can well enough to get them to a shipyard on the West Coast for complete restoration as quickly as possible.”
“That sounds daunting,” she said.
He glanced at her and shook his head. “To me, it doesn’t sound nearly as daunting as the job you and the others did at the hospital. We’re just putting ships back together, you put people back together.”
She appreciated his sentiment, and showed that in a smile. “I guess we all have our jobs to do.”
“We do.”
They were driving toward the entrance to the yard, and she glanced over her shoulder at the large buildings. “I didn’t realize just how enormous the buildings here are. They look big from a distance, but not that big.”
He slowed the jeep and made a complete turnabout, so they were headed back into the yard instead of out of it.
She tucked her hair that was flying about behind both ears. “Where are we going?”
“We have a few minutes to spare,” he replied. “I’ll give you a quick tour.”
Always excited to see new things, she clutched onto the side of the vehicle as they drove closer to the buildings that were by far the largest she’d ever seen. Many places had big buildings, but those were often tall; these were long and wide. “Can a ship fit inside them?”
“Not the big ships, but a harbor craft up to twenty-five feet can easily fit inside. These shops have the capacity and equipment to fix or build just about anything. There’s a gas plant here on the base, and right now the teams are using boundless amounts of acetylene and oxygen for the torches to cut through the metal on the hulls of the ships...”
He continued to tell her about a variety of things as he drove past the big buildings, ships in dry dock, and other points of interest. Some of the things he talked about she didn’t quite understand, yet found interesting, and others she did understand and wondered about the work he did. “How do you see to use the torches and welders under water?”
“You don’t really. It’s kind of like you, working in the dark. You feel your way about, imagine what it looks like in your mind and try not to stub a toe.” He grinned at her, then continued, “There’s a man at the top of the water, talking through a phone wire, telling the diver where things are located and monitoring the oxygen as well as the gases for the torches and welders. I’ll show you the suits we wear another day,” he said, as they drove back toward the entrance again.
“I’d like that.” He had told her about the suits while he’d been in the hospital and she’d seen pictures of diving gear, but never in person. She had to admit, he made it all sound so exciting. It was clear how much he enjoyed doing what he did.
“When’s your next day off?”
“Sunday.” She bit her lip, trying to ease her excitement before asking, “When’s yours?”
He shook his head. “We’ll be working seven days a week for months to come, but I’ll be able to take time away to show you some things.”
Her nurse’s mind kicked in. “You are still healing and need your rest.”
“Nurse Wendy is back,” he said, flashing her another smile.
Her heart did a little loop-de-loop inside her chest. He had such an amazing smile. One that made her want to smile, too, even as she explained, “I just don’t want you to have a setback.”
“I won’t. One hospital stay was more than enough, even though I had excellent care.”
“I think I told you that flattery will get you nowhere once before,” she said.
He laughed “I do think you did.”
What had been a long walk, was a short drive, and as the hospital came into sight she was disappointed that their time together was at an end. Recalling the reason for her visit, she asked, “Does your family have a phone? I could give the number to Sid.”
“No.” He drove around the back side of the hospital and up to her barracks. “But he could call the feed store. Ed Tillis would gladly drive out and tell my dad to come into town and use the phone to call your cousin back. I’ve done that a couple of times.”
She dug in her purse and pulled out a pen and Sid’s letter. “What’s the name of the feed store?”
“Tillis Feed Store. The operator will be able to connect him.”
Having written the name, she dropped the envelope and pen in her purse. “I’ll tell Sid, and thank you very much for the ride home.”
He climbed out of his side of the jeep at the same time she climbed out of hers and they met in front of the vehicle. “I’ll walk you to the door,” he said.
“I walk to the door every night by myself,” she said.
“I know, but I’ll still do it,” he insisted.
She gave a nod. This wasn’t a date and there was no reason for her to think along those lines, but they were friends, and that made her happy. Happier than any friendship had ever made her in the past.
At the door, she said, “I’ll write to Sid tonight.”
“I will write to my father tonight.”
His gaze floated across her face, and seemed to penetrate into her skin, making her cheeks grow warm and her breath stall in her chest. He couldn’t possibly be thinking about kissing her, but that was where her mind went. She had to look away, hoping to make the thought disappear. Friends don’t kiss. Well, maybe some do, on the cheek, but that wasn’t the kind of kiss that had popped into her head.
He touched her arm. “Thank you, Wendy. This could be an amazing opportunity for my family, and I’m very grateful for that.”
Pushing all other thoughts aside, she held up one hand and crossed her fingers. “I’ll keep my fingers crossed that it all works out.”
With a smile and a nod, he said, “Good night, Wendy.”
“Good night, K.T.”
He waited until she’d walked inside before he turned around, and she continued to watch through the window until he drove away, then she hurried up the steps to her room. Helen and Lois were both working the four to midnight shift, and she plopped down on her bed, still wearing her shoes, and closed her eyes, relishing the amazing feelings inside her. They were much like the ones she’d had the night of the dance. That was so nonsensical because she’d come home for over a month having seen him every day and never felt like this.
It could be because he was no longer her patient. She wasn’t sure, and didn’t spend time thinking about why. Instead, she lay there, just feeling happy for a moment, because that felt precious right now.
When her thoughts teetered on kissing again, she bolted upright and climbed off the bed to collect her stationery. There were only two sheets left in the box, and she wondered where she would be able to find more. She could use regular paper, but she really liked using stationery. The paper of this set had tiny daisy flowers printed on the corners and the envelope had one printed on the flap. Aunt Ella had given it to her when she’d left for California, along with a ballpoint pen.
Perhaps the supply depot would have some. She would check on her next day off.
A full-blown smile tugged at her lips. Her next day off would be spent with K.T. showing her more of the base. He hadn’t mentioned when or where she should meet him, nor how long it would take.
Sitting down on the bed, she decided she would go to the hospital early tomorrow, to put on his new bandage and ask him. It would mean missing breakfast, but that wasn’t a problem. She could eat at the hospital.
Satisfied with that plan, she crawled onto the bed and lay down on her stomach to write her letter to Sid. Responses to all the other letters she’d received with his had already been sent, including one to K.T.’s mother. She’d told her how K.T. had been discharged and was nearly as fit as before the attack.
Sid’s letter didn’t take long to write, for she kept it short, just the front and back of one piece of paper. She set the envelope atop her dresser, and after putting her stationery box in a drawer, she pulled out a nightgown and went down the hall to shower.
By seven thirty the next morning, when K.T. still hadn’t arrived, she was wondering if he’d arrived before seven and whoever had put on a fresh dressing had forgotten to mark it down in his chart. That hadn’t happened on days past, and each entry had listed a time of shortly after seven.
When seven forty-five rolled past, she wondered if he’d been caught out after dark last night and had been arrested. She’d never heard what happened to those caught out after curfew, but the orders had clearly stated that all violations would go before the provost court, where decisions would be made swiftly and penalties would be severe. It hadn’t been dark when he’d dropped her off, but the sun had been setting and if he hadn’t gone straight back to his barracks, he would have been out after curfew.
By eight o’clock, her heart was drumming as she imagined all sorts of things that could have happened to him. She didn’t know what she could do to find out, either. Her shift was starting now and she wouldn’t be off until four. Working all day, worrying about him—
“Good morning, Nurse Smith.”
She spun around and wasn’t sure if she should hug him or punch him in the arm for scaring her nearly half to death. Until his grin made her do neither. Squaring her shoulders, she smiled in return. “Good morning, Lieutenant McCallister.”
“I figured I’d come over later this morning, so you could put on my bandage and find out what time you want me to pick you up on Sunday.”
He was already unbuttoning his white shirt, and though she’d seen his bare skin a thousand times over, it felt different this morning. So different it was a moment before she understood what he’d said. “Pick me up?”
“Yes, for your longer tour of the base.” He set his shirt on the table and then grasped the bottom of his T-shirt to pull it off. “Would nine o’clock work for you?”
A sudden wave of embarrassment washed over her and she spun around. Seeing the supplies she’d readied earlier gave her something to do, even though her hands were shaking so hard she had to ball them into fists for a moment.
“We could make it ten if nine is too early,” he said.
“No,” she answered without turning around. “Nine will be fine.”
“Good enough.”
She heard the wheels of the small stool squeak and assuming he’d sat down on it, she dared a glance over her shoulder. He was on the stool, with his back facing her. A back that was very familiar and her nerves calmed considerably.
Her nursing mind also kicked in. “You’ve already removed the bandage from yesterday?”
“Yes, I do each morning before taking my shower. Nurse Manning said I need to keep it clean and that’s the routine we agreed on.”
“Agreed on, or that’s the one you suggested until she gave in?”
He chuckled. “Either way, it works.”
It was working because his wound looked remarkably well. There was but a small slit where the skin hadn’t yet grown back together. She’d read how well it was doing in his chart, but seeing it was still surprising. A wonderful surprise. The new skin was still red, and he had some scarring, but compared to what his back had looked like the first time she’d seen it, what she saw now was what she’d call a miracle. “Are you sleeping on your back?”
“Sometimes, but not for long, it’s still tender,” he replied.
She set the solution-soaked pack on his back and covered it with several large gauze pads. “That will last for a while yet, I’m sure, but all in all, it looks very good.”
“It feels good,” he said. “Compared to a month ago.”
Still amazed by how quickly he’d healed, she said, “Nurse Manning had studied burns and was sure she could have yours healed in record time.” Wendy collected a roll of gauze and began to run it over one shoulder, across his chest, under his arm, and across his back.
“She explained that to me,” he said.
“She did?”
“Yes, she told me about her son, too,” he said.
That was a surprise, yet at the same time not really. She could understand that Gloria would want him to know why she was so convinced her technique would work. “I’m glad she told you,” Wendy said, while using a second roll of gauze to do the same on his opposite side so he had an X shape of gauze on his chest and back.
“It was the middle of the night, not long after I’d arrived and I’d asked her if she ever went home, got some sleep.”
“She practically lives here,” Wendy said, using bandage tape to secure the ends of the gauze, careful to make sure that none of the adhesive touched his skin.
“That’s why,” he said. “She’s set upon turning tragedy into healing, and is doing one hell of a job at it.”
“She is,” Wendy agreed. “She truly is.”
“Done?” he asked.
“Yes.” Then curious, she asked, “Who helps you remove the bandage?”
“No one.” He spun the stool around to face her. “I just cut the gauze right here.” He pointed at his chest. “And it falls off.” Grabbing his T-shirt, he pulled it over his head.
“Does the pack ever stick to your back?”
“Hasn’t yet.” He picked up his button-up shirt, hooked it with a thumb, and flipped it over his shoulder. “Same time tomorrow?”
She almost told him that she could be here earlier, but then he might figure out that she’d been here for an hour, fretting over why he was late, and she didn’t want him to know that. Didn’t want him to feel bad about it, because he would. “I’ll be here by eight.”
“Me, too.” He walked to the door. “Have a good day.”
“You, too,” she said. Then, as soon as he disappeared into the hallway, for no apparent reason, her knees wobbled and she sat down on the stool, told herself to breathe. Just breathe.
Closing her eyes, she pressed a hand to her forehead. It couldn’t be. It just couldn’t be. She opened her eyes and stared at the doorway. She couldn’t be falling in love with him. That was impossible. She just wanted to be his friend. Nothing more. Yet, the things he made her feel were more. More than she’d ever felt before, and that could only mean one thing.
But he was in love with Betty.
Who was no longer in love with him.
Oh, this was all going so terribly wrong.
She had to fix it, and she had to make sure that she didn’t fall in love with him. It couldn’t be that hard.