“Hey!” Gary called from his bed, “Tomorrow’s Thanksgiving, Miss Vance. Are you gonna be here?”
Alex stood at the locked doors to the psychiatric ward of the VA hospital where she worked. She smiled at Gary, a twenty-year-old marine who had “gone crazy” over in Vietnam, had summarily been given a medical discharge and had found his way here for help. He sat in his light blue pajamas, painfully thin, his dark eyes burning with the horror he still carried within him.
“You bet, Gary.”
He clapped his hands like a delighted child. “Groovy!” Then he turned and looked down the long rectangular room filled with patients and beds. “Hey, guys! Miss Vance is too gonna be here!”
Sporadic clapping, hooting, hollering and whistles started, and Alex lifted her hand in farewell to her patients, these men that she had come to love with a fierce loyalty. John Sheldrick, one of the hospital orderlies, let her out, promptly locking the door behind her again.
“You’re getting out of here late, Alex,” he noted, looking at his watch.
“I know.”
“Is it because of that newby? Grant?”
She picked up her dark brown wool coat and shrugged it over her white uniform. “Yes. How did you know?”
John smiled and shrugged. “I know your interest in that combat-symptom project of yours. Did he answer all the questions you asked him?”
“All of them,” Alex said, pleased. John was a big man in his mid-forties, an ex-army sergeant who had put in twenty years but couldn’t leave the realm of military life. “Even you said the questionnaire had merit. Just for your information, Chuck Grant fits the definition for the fatigue syndrome. Satisfied?”
John sank into the squeaky chair, the lights low because it was nearly 10:00 p.m. “Yup,” he said thoughtfully. “You bring an umbrella? It’s raining out there.”
“Again?” Alex muttered. She slung her black leather purse over her arm and hunted in a large can behind the desk for her red umbrella. “I never realized Portland had so much rain.”
“It’s late fall. What do you expect? Can’t snow here, so it’s gotta do something depressing.”
She smiled. “I suppose you’re right.”
“Hey, what about McKenzie? Ain’t he supposed to be coming home from Nam soon?”
Alex straightened and unsnapped the loop around the umbrella. Her heart raced. Since she’d come to the VA hospital on the outskirts of Portland, John had become her friend and confidant. He knew about Jim and his prison term.
“I—I don’t know, John.”
“He was getting out this month?”
“Yes.” Alex frowned. “The last I heard from Jim was September. I’ve continued sending letters, but he hasn’t answered them.” Alex’s throat ached with the tension of unshed tears. She had tried to find out Jim’s release date, but had repeatedly been stymied by military bureaucracy. She had no idea if Jim was coming home, or if he would visit her once he was released.
Scratching his thinning black hair, John muttered, “If I know those brig goons, they probably confiscated your letters before Jim got them.” Then he grinned, his green eyes lighting up. “Hey, now don’t you lose that pretty smile of yours. These guys wait each afternoon until you come on shift just to see your smile. You’re their sunshine, you know. And their favorite nurse.”
Sunshine. Jim’s word for her. Alex rallied and nodded. “I hope he knows I love him, John. With or without the letters reaching him.”
“If he don’t by now, he don’t deserve you.”
Alex went over to give John a hug. “You’re good for my morale, John.”
“Hey,” he chided her, “now don’t you give up on this McKenzie.” He thumped his chest. “I got a feeling in here about him. From what you’ve told me, he’s a good man in a bad situation. You deserve each other. Just don’t give up hope.”
“I wrote his parents a letter last week,” Alex said. “I told them to tell Jim I wanted to see him, that I loved him.” Did he love her? Alex gnawed on her lower lip, close to tears.
“So you gonna spend your hard-earned day off celebrating Thanksgiving with the guys in here? It’s all they’ve talked about for a week. Are you really gonna eat dinner with them?”
“Yes. I promised I’d bake them some homemade corn bread and pumpkin pies.” Alex glanced at her watch. “Gosh, I’ve got to get going! I’ve got four pies to make tonight before I go to bed.”
“I hope those bastards know how lucky they are to have you as their nurse. Maybe I’ll get a piece of one of those pies, too? I have to work tomorrow, Alex.”
“Of course you will, John! Bye,” she called, quickly walking down the empty hall. The walls were painted light green, shadowy now that most of the lights were turned out.
In the huge, silent asphalt parking lot, rain fell at a light, steady rate. The streetlights helped her locate her blue station wagon, her first purchase since having a job of her own. The depressing weather settled in on Alex as she unlocked the car door and slid onto the seat. She tried not to think about Jim.
As Alex drove to her rented house not far from the hospital, her heart began to ache in earnest. Was Jim home yet? Her cold fingers gripped the steering wheel even more firmly as she drove slowly through the suburban streets of Portland. Lights reflected off the wet pavement, and darkness hovered.
Pulling into the concrete driveway of her small, one-story home, Alex stopped and climbed out of the car. She hurried up the sidewalk and steps. Inside, her cat, Thomasina, greeted her.
“Hi, Tommy,” Alex said as she shut the door. The cat meowed a welcome from where she sat. Alex couldn’t stand living completely alone and had been delighted when Thomasina had found her way to the front porch one stormy night in October. The black-and-gray striped cat with huge yellow eyes had been a permanent fixture since that night.
Hurrying to her bedroom, Alex got out of her white nursing uniform and pulled on a long-sleeved white blouse, a pair of jeans and a red cardigan. It was cool in the house, and Alex turned up the thermostat before she went to the kitchen. Pies had to be made. Four of them! Alex knew that her fifteen patients were starving for a touch of home life. They had no family who would come to visit over the special holiday.
Thomasina leaped up onto one of the four kitchen chairs surrounding a round table covered with a pink linen tablecloth. Alex had planned for the pies and had made the crusts for them last week. All she had to do now was make the pumpkin filling. She turned on the radio that sat atop the refrigerator and hummed along with the soft FM music as she worked at the kitchen counter.
By eleven, Alex sat relaxing at the table, her pies in the oven, baking. Thomasina slept on the chair next to her, and Alex had rewarded herself with a well-deserved cup of tea. With any luck, she’d be in bed by midnight.
The doorbell rang.
Frowning, Alex sat up. So did Thomasina.
“I wonder who that is,” she said to the cat.
Thomasina stared at her, unblinking.
Walking through the darkened living room, Alex switched on a lamp near the flowery print couch. There was no window in the door, so she couldn’t tell who it might be. Keeping the guard chain on, Alex cautiously opened the door.
“Alex?”
A gasp escaped her. “Jim!”
He stood uncertainly, dressed in civilian clothes and a dark blue raincoat. “Hi. I know it’s late, but—”
“Just a minute...” Shakily, Alex took the chain off the door. Her heart pounding triple time, she pulled the door open. Her eyes went wide as she looked up into Jim’s shadowed features, glistening with rain. Anguish seared Alex and her breath caught in her throat. Jim looked gaunt, and she could see the unsureness in his eyes. A slight smile barely tipped the corners of his mouth.
“Come in,” she whispered unsteadily, catching his hand and pulling him into the carpeted foyer. Shutting the door, Alex stood back, shocked. The light on Jim’s face showed unbearable tension in his features. His dark hair was wet and small rivulets of water ran down his neck, soaking into his plaid shirt. What hurt the most was a new scar that ran from his temple to his jaw. Alex knew immediately that he’d been badly beaten in Long Binh. Tears came to her eyes, but she fought them back.
“I—I didn’t know if you’d come,” she whispered lamely. “I hadn’t heard from you for so long....”
“I’m sorry, Alex. I tried to call.” Jim stood uncertainly in the unfamiliar but cozy surroundings of Alex’s home. He saw her soft, dove gray eyes grow large with pain. As if realizing Alex was staring at his recently healed injury, he reached up and self-consciously touched the scar on the side of his face.
“I’m so happy to see you,” she quavered.
“I got Stateside this morning—”
“Please, take off that coat. You’re wet.” He was shivering, and when Alex touched the coat, she realized the material was soaked all the way through. “How long have you been out in this rain?”
Jim unbuttoned the coat. “An hour...maybe a little longer. I caught the bus from San Francisco to Portland, then walked over here from the station.”
“My God, that’s six miles away. Why didn’t you call from the bus terminal?”
“I did, but you weren’t home.”
Alex rolled her eyes. “I took two shifts today to give my friend Gail a chance to go home for the holidays.” It was on the tip of her tongue to ask why he hadn’t gotten a cab, but Alex remembered Jim had little money. All of his meager private’s pay was going into his savings account in Missouri. She took the coat and quickly carried it to the laundry room.
Returning, Alex saw that Jim was hesitantly looking around. But the moment he heard her approach, his gaze settled on her. She slowed as she approached, wanting so badly to throw her arms around him and hold him...simply hold him. His eyes were shadowy with exhaustion, and there were rings under them. But the moment he gave her that easy, boyish smile, all of Alex’s fears melted away.
“Oh, Jim!” She opened her arms and pressed herself to him.
Jim groaned at the unexpected gift of Alex in his arms. All he could do was hold her, feel her breathing against him, inhale her feminine scent and bury his face in her luxurious sable hair, now shoulder length.
“I thought—I thought maybe you didn’t want to see me again,” he rasped, his eyes tightly shut, savoring Alex against him.
“No...no, I do.” Alex sobbed. “You never received my letters?”
Jim slowly eased his embrace and looked down at her suffering features. Gently, he caressed Alex’s flaming cheek. The tears in her eyes reminded him of beautiful diamonds. “The last one I got was dated September.”
Alex shut her eyes tightly. “Those bastards! I hate them! I hate what they’ve done to you—to us!” She opened her eyes and drowned in his sad azure gaze. “Jim, I sent you a letter every week or so.”
Anger surged through Jim, and he steadied his grip around Alex. “I never got them.”
Alex dashed away her tears. “You look so tired.” She tried not to stare at the fresh, terrible-looking scar. It showed the marks of at least twenty stitches. Inwardly, Alex shuddered, afraid to know how Jim had gotten it and how much he must have suffered after receiving it.
He tested the air with his nose. “Right now, gal, I could stand a little food in this shrunken belly of mine, and a good cup of hot coffee. I haven’t eaten since this mornin’. Whatever you’re baking sure smells good.”
Alex rallied beneath his husky tone. “You came to the right place, then. Come on, Jim McKenzie. I intend to stuff you with home-cooked food until you burst.”
Jim’s mouth stretched tiredly, and he held Alex’s small hand as he followed her into the kitchen. He sat down at the table, a contentment flowing through him that he’d never dreamed of feeling. Alex was wearing a red-and-white checked apron, her lovely hair mussed and framing her flushed features. A cat came over and jumped onto his lap, purring madly. He gently stroked the affectionate feline.
“I wasn’t even sure you’d be home. Since I hadn’t gotten you on the phone, I thought you might have gone home to see your folks over Thanksgiving.”
Alex shook her head and placed a salad in front of him. “No, I wanted to be here with my patients.” She took Thomasina and placed her on the floor. “They don’t have anyone nearby,” she explained as she brought salad dressing from the refrigerator.
“Just like you,” Jim said. He was starving, and said nothing more as he dug into the salad of Bibb lettuce, carrots, tomatoes and bits of purple cabbage. The pleasant clink of kitchen pots and pans were like music to him. In no time, Alex had cooked him pork chops, steamed some frozen corn and taken some previously baked potatoes and fried them up as well. It was a feast to Jim. Within half an hour, he was stuffed like the proverbial turkey.
Alex took the four pumpkin pies from the oven and set them on the counter to cool. She saw the color coming back to Jim’s pale face, his eyes look more alert. Taking a seat across from him as he finished some chocolate cake, she sat quietly, just watching him.
“You’re really here,” she said finally, awe in her voice.
Jim lifted his head. He wiped his mouth with the pink linen napkin and set it aside. “I feel like I’m in a dream, too.”
“A beautiful dream,” Alex whispered shyly.
“I don’t ever want to wake up.”
She didn’t either. The darkness beneath his eyes had increased. “You need to sleep.”
“Yeah...” Jim frowned. “Look, I don’t want to impose on you, Alex—”
“The couch turns into a bed. You could stay here,” Alex offered quickly.
Relief flowed through him. “I’ll take you up on your kindness. To tell you the truth, I’m short on money. I’ve got to get to a Western Union station tomorrow, wire my folks for some money and let them know I arrived safely Stateside.”
“Of course.” Alex stood. “Let me make your bed up. Could you use a hot shower?”
“How about a hot bath? I haven’t had one since...well, a long time ago. I’d give almost anything to just sit and soak in some hot water.”
She smiled gently. “Come on, I’ll show you where the bathroom’s located and get you a towel and washcloth.”
Jim got up and followed her. His throat constricted with emotions that were in utter chaos. To come out of the damp, smelly cell where he’d been under the brutal attention of the brig guards for four months into this clean, lovely home was too much to comprehend. Jim was sure he was experiencing some kind of culture shock. Everything about Alex’s home was clean, the odors tantalizing, and the colors soft, like her.
By the time Alex had made the couch into a bed, Jim appeared in the living-room doorway. Alex had loaned him her huge, oversize blue terry-cloth bathrobe, and although it barely fit, he didn’t mind. He sure didn’t want to put his damp clothes back on. Alex put an extra blanket at the bottom of the bed, in case he got cold.
“Come on, you look like you’re going to keel over, Jim.”
“The bed does look good,” he agreed. Exhaustion was lapping at all his senses, and he heard himself slurring his words. Dropping his shoes and socks nearby, he sat down on the edge of the bed. He patted the mattress. “Feels good, too.”
Alex moved to the doorway. “Sleep as long as you want. I’ll probably be up around eight, and I’ve got the afternoon shift at the hospital.”
“What time do you get off?”
“Nine p.m.”
Jim nodded. “Good.”
“Why?”
“No reason. The way I’m feeling, I’ll probably sleep all night and most of tomorrow.”
Alex wanted to kiss him, but she fought herself. Although he had held her tightly in his arms, he hadn’t kissed her, hadn’t said he loved her. Filled with uncertainty, Alex whispered, “Good night, Jim.”
“Good night, gal.”
The room grew quiet after Alex left. Soon, the kitchen light switched off and Jim shrugged out of the robe. What little money he’d had was already spent. The clothes on his back had been purchased in Saigon before he’d boarded the freedom bird for home—and for a new life.
Just the act of lying on a soft mattress, with clean white sheets, was amazing. His brain was fogged with weariness as he shaped the pillow with his long, spare fingers and closed his eyes. Alex. He was here, with her. At her home. He’d found her, and she’d welcomed him. Did she love him? Was there something left of their long-ago experience on which to build? Everything was so uncertain. Jim sighed raggedly, spiraling into a dark, dreamless sleep—his first in four months.
* * *
Alex awoke at eight in a euphoria of happiness. As she lay in her room, the morning sun peeking in through the white curtains at the window, she suddenly remembered that Jim was here. Sitting up, her flannel granny gown rumpled, Alex pushed her hair out of her eyes. Jim was here.
Some of her happiness ebbed as she continued waking up. What she wanted was Jim in her bed—with her. The need to love him, to physically bond with him, was eating away at Alex. As she got up, took a hot shower and changed into dark green slacks and an ivory sweater, she felt giddy and nervous. Was he awake yet? She wondered how he’d slept last night—if he’d had any nightmares.
Tiptoeing to the living room, Alex felt her nervousness recede. Jim lay on his left side, sleeping deeply, the blankets pooled around his waist. Thomasina lay in his arms, and a smile tugged at Alex’s mouth as the cat blinked awake and stared across the room toward her.
Alex absorbed Jim’s sleeping features. His hair was cut very short, and even in the gloom of the living room, Alex could still see the welt of that evil scar. What had happened? She tucked her lower lip between her teeth, feeling pain. His pain. Jim’s mouth was slightly parted, the tension he’d carried the night before gone. Even the darkness beneath his long, spiky lashes had nearly disappeared. He was sleeping well, his darkly haired chest rising and falling slowly.
A newfound yearning cascaded through Alex. She carefully made her way out to the kitchen. The pies for her patients would have to be packed and the corn bread, baked last week, taken from the freezer. She needed to be at the hospital by eleven so she’d have time to make sure the preparations for Thanksgiving dinner went just right. Making a pot of coffee as quietly as she could, Alex penned Jim a note and laid it nearby.
After feeding Thomasina, Alex puttered quietly around the house and did a load of laundry. Eleven o’clock approached and Alex didn’t want to go. She wanted to stay and watch Jim awaken, to talk to him and spend hours catching up on his life. She had so many questions, so many blank spots that needed to be filled in. As she placed the pies in the car, Alex knew that they’d have that time. Still, this was one day—even though it was special to her patients—that she wanted to pass quickly. By nine-thirty tonight she’d be home. Home. And Jim would be waiting for her. As Alex backed the car out of the driveway, she felt as if her life was beginning all over again, excitement and fear vying for attention within her.
* * *
Alex was about to open her front door when Jim opened it for her. She smiled up at him. He was clean shaven, wearing the clothes she’d washed for him that morning. Shadows no longer lurked beneath his eyes, and there was a ruddiness to his complexion and a twinkle in his cobalt eyes.
“Hi!”
Jim smiled. “Hi yourself, gal.”
Alex walked into the foyer and shed her coat. Jim took it and hung it up in the hall closet.
“This is the first time I’ve seen you in a nurse’s uniform,” he teased. Catching her hand, he pulled her to a stop. “Hold on, let me take a good look at you. Last night, I wasn’t all here.”
Blushing furiously, Alex stood still beneath his intense inspection. Touching her hair nervously, she muttered, “I look a mess right now—”
“No,” Jim said, “you look purty as ever. You always will to me, Alex.” His fingers tightened around hers as he looked deeply into her lovely gray eyes. There was such beauty to her red lips and the way they parted beneath his hungry inspection. Jim hotly recalled his kissing Alex so long ago. That one exquisite moment they’d shared had never left him, no matter how bad things had gotten.
Alex stood very still, her senses spinning. The look in Jim’s eyes was making her shaky inside. “I—I’m scared,” she whispered.
He managed a one-cornered smile. “So am I, gal. I’m scared of myself, of the feelings I have for you. It’s been so long, Alex, so long without you....”
She swallowed hard and nodded. Jim was so close. Just two steps and she would be in his arms. But did he love her? What was left between them? “I’m afraid of myself, of my feelings, too, if it makes you feel any better.” She laughed nervously.
Jim released her hand, although he didn’t want to. “I have a proposal for you, Alex. It’s something...well, something I dreamed about while I was in Long Binh. Maybe it’s a crazy dream, an impossible one....”
“What is it?” She held her breath.
Jim shrugged. “I thought...well...that is, I’d like you to take some time off to be with me. I know this is sudden and unexpected. When I didn’t receive any more mail from you, I was afraid to propose the idea in a letter to you.” He held her lustrous gaze. “We need time for ourselves, Alex. I guess that’s what I’m saying. I wired my folks this afternoon, and they sent me the money.”
She looked down at the carpet. “My supervisor knew you were coming home.” Alex took in a ragged breath. “I was hoping you’d ask. I took the week off, Jim, just in case you showed up here.”
“I’m glad you did, gal,” he whispered huskily. Reaching out, he caressed Alex’s cheek, her skin velvety beneath his touch.
Braving her fear, Alex looked up as he cupped her cheek with his long, scarred fingers. “Jim, I never stopped loving you. Not ever. You weren’t some passing fancy to me. And it wasn’t because of what happened in Vietnam, either.”
Aching to take her, to love her, Jim nodded, the words stuck in his throat in a big lump. Taking a step closer, he allowed his hand to fall on her small shoulder. “You’re so brave,” he told her unsteadily, “so brave. I hope, Alex, I can match your courage. Maybe this next week will tell us what we both need to know.”
Alex shut her eyes. She loved him so fiercely, unequivocally, that there was only one thing that she wanted from him: his love in return. “I’ll take the time off, Jim,” she heard herself say, her voice sounding hollow with fear.