K.T. wasn’t impressed with the direction of his thoughts. Every route led to Wendy. It had been that way for a while, but after spending the entire day with her yesterday, he couldn’t make another thought form. She was pretty, fun, and he enjoyed spending time with her, but...
There was a very big but, because there was more. So much more.
He knew what he felt for Wendy went beyond what it should.
That had been confirmed again this morning when he’d gone in for his bandage change. It was unreal how just seeing her made him feel different. Whole. Like something had always been missing inside him and she’d brought it to life.
Dr. Bloomberg had been there this morning, too, and had given him the okay to return to doing more than just sitting in meetings and reading blueprints. He still couldn’t dive or weld, but the tasks of getting the ships repaired were endless and he was excited to get back to work.
Being busy, staying busy, would be his answer to getting Wendy off his mind. He wasn’t fool enough to believe that would solve his problems. What he felt for her was special. More special than what he’d felt for Betty. He was severely disappointed in himself. It wasn’t something he’d ever have expected to happen, but now that it had he needed to do the right thing.
He’d been up half the night thinking about it, and knew he had to break things off with Betty. She deserved a man who loved her, fully. Completely. That wasn’t him. Would never be him. He also knew that he couldn’t marry Wendy. Couldn’t even tell her how he felt. Not with a war going on. She wanted to see the world; she didn’t want anyone waiting on her, and didn’t want to be waiting on anyone to return to her.
The only thing he could do was to stay away from her, try to get over these feelings, and work would help him do that.
Upon hearing he had limited clearance for work, Captain Heinz assigned him to oversee a crew working on getting the USS Nevada from where she’d run aground to a dry dock. K.T. gladly took the assignment. He’d been in meetings about the ship, knew the blueprints by heart, as well as her current condition. Although other ships had been repaired and sent to California, and others were in dry dock, their damages hadn’t compared to the Nevada. She was one of the first major salvage projects. Though she was in shallow water, the ship was in rough shape. The attack had twisted her about and she’d been run aground backward, stern first. Her bow had settled into deeper water, leaving her deck awash with seawater. She’d been bombed and torpedoed, ended up with a twenty-five-foot hole in her port side. A patch had been constructed to cover the hole in order to raise her, and though divers had worked endlessly to secure the patch, that couldn’t be done. The hull had been warped by the bomb explosions. The alternate plan had been to patch the smaller holes and secure every door and hatch in the ruptured compartments and hope that would be enough to raise her once they got the seawater out of her.
Using every available pump, they were removing the water from her lower sections into the upper sections, then more pumps were moving that water over her sides. As luck would have it, the pumps were working faster than the unrepairable holes were letting water in, however, if any one section was drained too fast, the ship could list or capsize.
To get her afloat and to dry dock, they had to lighten her load. That was K.T.’s job.
Every sailor loved their ship, and the Nevada’s crew were committed to getting her back in the water, back in the fight, despite her current condition. They were good men, quickly agreed with the plan K.T. laid out, and instantly went to work.
The entire ship has been coated with filth. Oil and mud were mixed in with supplies that had been on the ship when she went down; papers, clothes, rotting food was everywhere, and feet deep as the water was pumped out of every compartment.
After shoveling out the filth in any one section, hoses were brought in and everything was hosed down with seawater. Oil stores and fuel would need to be transferred out of tanks, and guns, ammunitions, motors, engines, and anything else salvageable needed to be removed and transferred to a building in the yard to be cleaned, repaired, and prepped for reinstallation.
It was hard, consuming work, and K.T. appreciated how it kept his mind busy. His evenings were taken up writing reports and creating plans for additional holes to patch.
Tired, he slept at night, but there was that time between lying down and falling to sleep where his mind reverted to Wendy. His plan of staying away from her had one major flaw. She changed his bandage each morning, and while doing so, was full of questions about his work on the ship. Before falling to sleep, he’d go over things that he’d tell her in the morning.
Talking to her about his work reminded him of home, of sitting around the dinner table at night, listening to everyone talk about their day. He’d missed that.
His fifth day on the ship, Friday, the crew were in high spirits. Their hard work was paying off. Although parts were blackened from the fires her crew had fought during the attack, with her deck free of water and clean, that part of the ship looked more like her old self.
“When you came aboard on Monday and told us that we’d have her in dry dock in two weeks, I didn’t believe that was possible,” Brock Hanson, one of the ship’s crewmen who was overseeing one of the pumps, said to K.T. “But now, I think it’s possible. More than possible.”
The ship had lost over fifty of their assigned crew that had totaled nearly fifteen hundred in the raid, and K.T. knew every crew member was committed to seeing her back on the water in honor of their lost companions. He was, too. “A week from today, we’ll be tugging her toward dry dock,” K.T. replied.
Brock, who had curly red hair and was built like a brick outhouse, laughed. “Is that a goal or a challenge?”
“A promise,” K.T. said, slapping Brock’s shoulder. He’d been in the navy for over three years, working on a large variety of ships and watercrafts, but there was something about being here, on this ship, with her shipmates, that told him he was exactly where he belonged. Doing exactly what he needed to be doing.
Brock nodded, and glanced around the ship with a thoughtful gaze. “We were the only ship to get underway and to shoot down an aircraft that day,” he said. “It’s fitting that she gets a second chance in this war.”
“It is,” K.T. said. “Let’s get it done.”
“Aye, aye.”
Brock turned back to his pump, and K.T. proceeded along the deck.
Although the pumps were running around the clock, there was still water everywhere, because the ship was still sitting on the ocean floor, and would be until they could unload her completely in order to give her some buoyancy. A tanker had anchored next to the ship last evening and this morning, they’d start unloading her stored oil and fuel.
K.T. made his way to where that was set to happen, and once satisfied the transfer was proceeding without a hitch, he made his way below deck, to check in with his unit. The lower he went into the hull of the ship, the stronger the stench grew. Crew members were still hauling out trash, muck, and equipment to be refurbished.
The hull was a labyrinth of compartments, rooms, and walkways, and the men working were like ants—a steady trail of movement with each man focused on their job at hand. Some might see it as chaos with so many moving about, but K.T. saw it as precision progress.
He found his unit in the engine room, where everything was being dismantled and removed. Despite the portable lighting the room was dark, and K.T. clicked on the headlamp attached to his hat as he walked through the ankle-deep water.
Will, along with another member of his crew, Adam Foss, were bolting patches over smaller holes discovered as equipment was removed by sailors.
K.T. had thought a lot about Will lately, how he was married, had Anda and the baby living here with him. It all seemed to be working out fine for them, and other married men. Back in California, when he’d requested living quarters for the married men in his unit, he’d thought he understood why those men had wanted their families with them, now he wondered if he had. Wondered if he’d known what those men had felt for their wives and why they’d wanted them with them, through thick and thin.
As he crossed the room, toward Will and Adam, K.T. scanned the area, the crewmen carrying out the heavy equipment, scraping aside muck, and wiping down the heavy vaulted door. His gut tightened into a hard knot of warning at the sight of one sailor grasping the handle of a door. “Don’t open that!” he shouted. The oil reserves were behind that door and if any seawater had leaked into it, sewage gases could have built up in the compartment. He’d ordered that no sealed doors were to be opened until all the fuel had been drained.
“Don’t open that!” he repeated, but the noise of the water pump drowned out his shouts. K.T. ran to the pump and hit the kill switch, but the silence hit at the same time the sailor pulled open the door and was instantly hit by a flood of oil-filled seawater. The man didn’t even wobble, just collapsed into the water.
“Evacuate!” K.T. shouted. “Evacuate!”
Two other crewmen near the opened door wobbled, then fell to their knees.
“Gas!” K.T. shouted. “Get out! Now!” Turning to Will and Adam, he shouted, “We have to get these three out of here! Don’t breathe! Don’t breathe!”
Holding his breath, K.T. ran to the first man who’d gone down, while Will and Adam each grabbed one of the men on their knees.
K.T.’s lungs were burning from the air he held in as he dragged the man away from the door and slammed it shut. The muck made everything harder, but he didn’t dare breathe, knowing it could be deadly. Grasping the man beneath the arms, he dragged him toward the exit, following Adam and Will, who were each dragging a man.
He didn’t take a breath until they were out of the room.
The hallway was full of running men, repeating his evacuation order. Another sailor grasped the legs of the man K.T. was dragging, helping him as they ran along the hall to the stairwell.
Once on deck, K.T. ordered a boat to transport the fallen men across the harbor to the hospital, along with Will whose left leg was bleeding from something he’d encountered during the evacuation.
Thinking only of rescuing others, K.T. ordered everyone to put on their gas masks, wishing he’d made that request earlier, then led a group of men into the hull, to search for anyone who may not have heard the evacuation orders, or had succumbed to the gas.
Wendy was on the second floor of the hospital, restocking a closet with supplies, when she heard that men working on the USS Nevada had been brought in due to exposure to a deadly gas. Her heart dropped to the floor with fear. She left the task half done and ran downstairs.
She could have attempted to tell herself it was in order to offer help, but didn’t even try. She had to know if K.T. was amongst the men.
With her heart pounding and her hands shaking, she rushed toward the examination rooms. A familiar voice caused even more turmoil inside her. It wasn’t K.T.’s voice, but it was Will’s.
She entered the room and nodded at Gloria who was examining Will’s leg as he lay flat on his back on a gurney. “What happened?” she asked Will.
“I bumped into something during the evacuation,” he said. “It’s just a scratch.”
The gash on his shin was more than a scratch and would need stitches. Understanding that, and the dangers of his work environment, she locked eyes with Gloria, who nodded.
Wendy crossed the room to prepare a tetanus shot, and still concerned about K.T., asked, “Why were you being evacuated?”
“A crewmember opened a door to a compartment that wasn’t supposed to be opened.”
Wendy carried the prepared shot back to the exam table. She wanted to ask if K.T. was one of them, but stopped herself short of her question being that specific. “How many were injured?”
“Three that I know of,” Will answered. “K.T. was going to look for more when I climbed in the boat to come here.” Pointing at her hand, he asked, “What’s that?”
“A tetanus shot,” she answered. “K.T. was going back into a gas-filled chamber?”
“They poked me when I first enlisted,” Will said, leaning away from her.
“Not for tetanus,” Gloria replied.
He wasn’t the first man to shy away from needles, and Wendy felt compassion for that, but was more worried about K.T., and asked again, “K.T. was going back into the gas-filled chamber?”
Will nodded, but his eyes were on Gloria as he asked, “Are you sure about that?”
Wendy had to bite her back teeth together to keep a growl of frustration from escaping.
“Yes, I’m sure,” Gloria replied. “It won’t hurt. Nurse Smith is very good at giving shots.”
Will shifted his gaze, but it wasn’t to her, it was to the needle she was flicking to remove the air bubble. A second later, his eyes rolled back and he fainted.
He wasn’t the first man to pass out at seeing a needle, nor would he be the last. How men who were so big and brave on so many occasions, yet couldn’t stand the sight of a needle, had amazed Wendy at first, but it no longer did. It was just proof that everyone was afraid of something. She rolled up his sleeve and gave him the shot, while saying, “I’ll get the smelling salts.”
“Let’s get this leg stitched up first,” Gloria said. “It’s only a few stitches and will all be over when he comes to.”
Wendy checked Will’s pulse and respiration as Gloria stitched the gash together with a perfect line of small stitches.
“I know you’re worried about K.T.,” Gloria said, “but Will doesn’t know any more than we do right now. It’s a wait and see moment.”
Wendy knew that, and had no choice but to nod.
“Staying busy will make the time go faster,” Gloria said.
Wendy nodded again, but knowing all of that didn’t lesson her fears over something happening to K.T. The quandary she found herself in over him increased daily. She liked him, cared about him, enjoyed being his friend, but could no longer say that all she felt for him was friendship. She had to admit that not falling in love with someone was not easy. In fact, it was impossible to stop it.
The idea of leaving the island, boarding the Solace, sailing away and never seeing him again was playing havoc with her dream of seeing the world. She had other friends here, people she cared about, but none of them instilled the same fear of never seeing them again as he did. Nor did what she felt now compare to how she’d felt about leaving Uncle Sy and Aunt Ella. She loved them, too.
Too was the word that scared her. Was she letting her mother down? Putting herself in a situation where a man could disappoint her? K.T. hadn’t tricked her into falling in love with him. She’d managed to do that all on her own. She hadn’t found a way to stop it.
Will let out a moan, and opened his eyes, blinking a couple of times before it became clear that he remembered what had happened. “You won’t tell anyone, will you?”
Wendy smiled. “About what?”
He sighed and nodded. “Anda’s wondering when you’ll be able to visit her again.”
“Soon,” Wendy replied, not wanting to make a promise that she couldn’t keep. “I’ll go see about finding you a way to get home.”
“I need to get back to the ship,” he said.
“Not today,” Gloria answered as she finished applying the bandage on his leg. “This needs to stay dry and clean for a few days.”
While Gloria went over more instructions for Will about his injury, Wendy left the room to procure him a ride home, and to see if any other men working on the Nevada had been brought in.
Learning that besides Will and the three others brought in at the same time, there had been no others, didn’t fill her with relief. It could merely mean they were still attempting to rescue others. Men had been rescued for days following the attack back in December.
She did her best to hide the anxiety growing inside her as the hours slowly ticked past. No other men were brought in from the ship. That still didn’t ease her worries. The other three men who had been brought in with Will were receiving breathing treatments for the gas they’d been exposed to. If not for how quickly they had been hauled out of the room, they would have died from the deadly toxic gases. They couldn’t remember being hauled up to the deck and transported by boat to the hospital. They still had terrible headaches, even with the oxygen treatments.
No matter what she tried to tell herself, Wendy’s worries increased throughout the day. By the time her shift ended, she’d imagined one scenario after the next, until she wasn’t sure which one scared her the most.
She hurried to her barracks and changed out of her nurse’s uniform and into a blue dress. Due to her hands trembling so hard, it took far longer than she wanted. Her mind was just as shaky. Images of K.T. overcome by gas kept forming in her mind. He could have gotten trapped in an area and no one was able to find him. Or, oh, goodness, there were so many possibilities of what could have happened, she couldn’t keep them straight.
She didn’t take the time to brush out her hair, merely left it pinned up after taking off her nurse’s cap, and hurried out of the building to go to the dock at the shipyard.
Someone had to know something. It had been all day.
If no one there could tell her anything, she’d find a boat to take her to the ship. She wasn’t sure that was possible, but would find a way.
Wendy was barely across the lanai when she saw a gray jeep on the road to the hospital and something far deeper than relief or excitement filled her as she recognized the driver.
Focused only on making sure he was okay, she shouted, “Oklahoma!” and ran, waving her arms. “Oklahoma!”
The jeep stopped, backed up, and turned on the road to her barracks.
She ran faster.
K.T. stopped the jeep as they met on the road and jumped out. “What’s wrong?”
Without taking a moment to think, she wrapped her arms around his waist, hugged him tight. “Thank heavens you’re okay!”
His arms went around her, held her tight. “I’m fine. I was coming to check on Will and the others.”
“Will was sent home with stitches in his leg, and the others are doing well,” she answered without loosening her hold or lifting her head. She couldn’t let go of him, not yet. “I was so worried about you.”
His arms tightened around her, as if he too needed to hang on to her as much as she did him. Or maybe he just knew what she needed right now. Her entire body needed to be pressed up against him. Not only to confirm he was okay, but because nothing had ever felt so right or so comforting.
“I’m fine,” he whispered.
“I was afraid you’d gotten trapped while rescuing others,” she said.
He softly rocked her sideways while still holding her close. “There were no others. Every man was accounted for and evacuated from the ship.”
The relief inside her was immense, and that brought about her own sensibilities, for she was gradually able to think about things other than him and herself. That had been where her thoughts had been all day. On him, and her fears over his safety.
Drawing in a deep breath, she said, “That’s good. I’m glad everyone was accounted for.”
He leaned back and knowing he was looking at her, she lifted her head to meet his gaze. “I’m sorry you were worried.”
The gentleness of how he touched her cheek with one hand and the sincerity in his eyes shattered something inside her. Some sort of barrier that she couldn’t explain, but suddenly, she wanted to wrap her arms around his neck and kiss him. Really kiss him, on the lips. She knew why it was impossible to not love him. He made it too easy. He was so good and kind and caring and honorable.
He was still looking at her, and the way his gaze lingered on her lips made something else explode inside her. She jumped back, out of his arms. He was honorable. Very. And she wasn’t. She still hadn’t told him about Betty’s letter, and she was afraid that she knew why.
“There was no need to worry,” he said. “Once everyone was accounted for, we took extra precautions as the gas was released.”
“That’s good,” she said, even though her thoughts were still on herself. She may have started out wanting to protect him by not giving him Betty’s letter, but at some point it had changed to protecting herself. She’d never have imagined that she could be so selfish, but she was. Letting him believe Betty was still his girl had given her a reason they could only be friends.
“From now on, everyone will be required to wear a gas mask when going into the hull,” he said, “and have a litmus paper badge that will detect if gasses are present.”
He was still attempting to ease her fears, but the ones she felt now had nothing to do with today’s accident. Having no idea what she was going to do about the situation she’d brought on herself, she let the air seep out of her lungs. “That’s good,” she repeated. Her heart thudded as she met his gaze. His smiles had affected her since the night she’d met him. Was that when it had happened?
Surely not. A person can’t fall in love that fast, but it might have been a teetering point, and she’d been stumbling downhill ever since. If she’d known that, she might have been able to save herself. It was too late for that now. For her, but not for him. She had to find a way to fix what she’d done.
“I—” She searched for something appropriate to say. “Will. Will’s leg needs a few days to heal. It needs to stay clean and dry.” It was a completely different topic, but that’s what she needed. Something else to think about until she... What? She wasn’t sure, but had to figure this out. “The others will remain in the hospital for a day or two, but they should be fine. Dr. Carson is overseeing their care. He can tell you more.”
K.T. nodded. “Do you know where I can find him? Is he still at the hospital?”
“Probably.” Drawing in a fortifying breath, she added, “I can go with you to the hospital and help you find him.”
“Thanks, I’d appreciate that.”