Elisabeth forced herself through the days that followed. A memorial service took place three days after the crash, but she refused to attend. Her loss only felt bearable when she focused stubbornly on her nursing responsibilities. Regulations forbade any communications home about the loss, for which she felt grateful. This way she didn’t have to decide whether or not to tell her parents.
One evening, as she sat alone in her room, a diffident tap at the door startled her. When Elisabeth opened the door, a fellow nurse stood on the other side with a piece of paper in her hand. “One of the Canadian pilots asked me to give this to you.”
Before her brain could absorb the information, a jolt of delight went through her. With shaking hands, she opened the note. “If you would join me outside, I have a surprise for you.” It was signed simply, “Ian.”
She dismissed the other nurse with a smile and a “thank you,” then shut her door and began pulling on outerwear as fast as her hands could move. All the while, she reminded herself that she needed to tell Ian she couldn’t date him anymore. Regardless of what she felt she had to say, her heart refused to let go of its happiness.
Well-bundled against the cold, she hurried outside. There he stood, off to one side, looking more handsome even than in her dreams. He held a basket on one arm, and with the other, he beckoned her. “I figured it’s a good day for a picnic, since it’s too cold for bugs.”
Elisabeth laughed, the first time she’d felt any kind of joy since the awful news ten days previously. She tucked her hand into the crook of his elbow and smiled up at him. “It’s good to see you.”
He began walking at an easy, wandering pace. “I’m not supposed to tell you I’ve logged more hours in the air than I think I can count. I no sooner get one plane delivered than they whip me back here for another one. So, how have you been?”
She studied the snow in front of her feet. How much should she tell him? Since this would be the last time she would see him, she might as well be honest. “My roommate was killed in a crash landing at Gander a couple of weeks ago.”
“The flight nurse?” His voice quivered with disbelief.
“Cynthia.” She could barely say the name.
“Oh, no. I saw the rubble on a couple of landings before they got it cleared away. They told me a nurse had been killed, but I had no idea it was your roommate. I’m so sorry, Elisabeth. How are you doing with it?”
She shrugged. “I’m coping, I guess. Don’t have much choice.”
He let the silence hover for several strides. Then with a gentle nudge, he turned her toward a snowbank as high as her waist. “Let’s sit for a few minutes. The snowbank will break the wind.” He pulled a blanket from the basket on his arm and laid it out on the snow, then gestured for her to take a seat. She expected to be chilled quickly. Instead, with the diminished wind, she felt cozy in her Arctic gear. He lifted an insulated container from the basket, then filled two mugs with steaming liquid.
“Hot chocolate?” she asked incredulously. “How did you come by this?”
“Connections,” he responded with a saucy grin.
Not until they had finished the drinks and resumed their walk did she find the courage to voice her thoughts. “Ian, I don’t know how to say this, so I’m just going to be blunt. I don’t think I should see you anymore.” She couldn’t bear to look up into his face. If she had hurt him, she wouldn’t be able to forgive herself. Still, she had to protect herself. The past two weeks had reinforced her resolution.
When he spoke, his voice remained as conversationally friendly as ever. “Would you mind telling me why, other than the fact that I’m never around?”
“I don’t want to get attached.” The words sounded cold, but she had to make her point.
“Are you talking about friendship or about romance?”
“Both.”
“Elisabeth.” He paused and turned her to face him. The intensity of his gaze, even in the gathering dusk, compelled her to maintain eye contact. “I don’t have to tell you we’re living in terrible times. I know better than anyone how easily I could take off on a flight and never return. Not once do I take off from a runway without thinking of my mother and two sisters and the loss they’ll feel if something happens to me. I feel horrible about making them live with that. But I couldn’t live with myself if I didn’t do what I do.”
He set the basket on the ground and took both of her gloved hands in his. “I’m not one to date just for the sake of dating. I know there’s something special between us, but I don’t want to try to define it. I cannot let myself become part of a romantic attachment until I know for sure that I’ll be alive to fulfill any promises I make. Does that make sense to you?”
She nodded, no longer sure of her own feelings. Just to hear him say the words “something special between us” filled her with both joy and foreboding. She couldn’t care about him any more than she already did. She simply wouldn’t let herself.
“Are we still friends?” Once again, his gaze held hers.
Once again she nodded, incapable of further response.
“I do want to keep you as a friend for as long as God allows.” He tucked her hand around his arm again and picked up the basket, resuming their walk. “I know you’re going through a horrible time right now, and I hope it helps to know that I think of you often.”
For some strange reason, it did help. The ache that she’d begun to think would be a permanent part of her began to ease.
“Look up there.” He pointed into the sky ahead of them. The cloud cover was sporadic tonight, providing a clear view of a large, full moon. “That’s your reminder, little friend. Whether I’m in Gander, Iceland, England, or someplace as yet unknown, I’ll see the same moon and I’ll be thinking of you.” Then in the wonderful baritone she’d heard once before, he began to sing,
“No matter where I go
You’ll be with me in my soul.
Though we have to part for now
In our hearts we’re never far.
When I see the sun, I’ll feel your smile.
When I look at the moon, I’ll think of you.”
She tried to hum along, but emotion clogged her throat. He finished with a grin, and they returned to the barracks in silence. At the doors, he wrapped her in a quick hug. “Remember the moon,” he whispered, then he stood back as she went inside. Not until she reached her room did she realize he hadn’t agreed that they shouldn’t see each other again. Rather, he’d offered a promise of friendship that her heart seemed determined to cherish in spite of her good intentions.
And so, each day as she trudged through the snow and darkness to and from work, she couldn’t help but look upward. She was surprised at how often she could see the moon, however faintly, in spite of the seemingly permanent cloud cover. Whenever she saw the steady glow, a matching glow lit her soul.
Just ten days before Christmas, a package arrived from home. She invited Sandra to join her as she opened the treasure. Tissue swathed the top layer. She gently pulled the packing aside to reveal a small wreath woven from dried stalks of grain and decorated with bits of green felt and tiny red yarn pom-poms. Beneath that lay a box of fudge, from which they each took an immediate sample, and a tin of her favorite shortbread cookies. A cedar box lay at the bottom of the package, with an envelope attached.
Dearest Elisabeth,
The note began in her mother’s tidy handwriting.
While Papa Johan and I were praying for you the other day, I felt the time had come to send you this. The letters and the journal were written by my grandmother Lucy, your great-grandmother, while she served as a nurse during the Civil War. Her thoughts encouraged your papa and me during some dark days when our circumstances were similar to yours, and I hope they’ll do the same for you.
With all our love,
Mama Glorie
Elisabeth gently lifted the cedar lid. Carefully folded within lay sheets of paper already yellowing with age. She felt startled by the unfamiliarity of the rounded writing. In the years before Great-Grandma’s death, she’d often sent little notes to Elisabeth. That writing had been shaky and sprawling. But as soon as she started reading the words, she knew her great-grandmother’s spirit hadn’t changed a bit with age. Her courage and determination showed through each sentence.
She laid the box aside with regret. With only an hour until time to report for her shift, she couldn’t let herself get involved in the story she was sure to find. But distant memories of her great-grandmother accompanied her throughout her hours on duty. It had been years since she’d thought of Lucy as anyone other than the heroic first owner of the pin Elisabeth still wore on the chain beneath her uniform.
Over the course of the next three days, she found opportunity to read the letters a bit at a time. Sunday would be her next day off, and she promised herself she would spend the entire afternoon with the little cedar box. But as she left the chapel after the morning service, she saw a familiar, though unexpected, figure in the crowd ahead of her. The top of his head was visible above those around him, and anticipation rippled through her. She pushed it away with the reminder that she’d told him they shouldn’t see each other again. For that reason, she shouldn’t expect his presence on the American base to mean he’d come to see her.
But as she stepped outside the chapel, there he was, a short distance away, obviously waiting for her. She didn’t try to stop the grin that felt like it might split her face. No matter what she wanted to tell herself about her intentions, she simply couldn’t deny her joy in seeing him. Because they were both in uniform, she couldn’t greet him with anything less than a very proper salute.
Formalities out of the way, they stood facing each other in the cold winter air. “I really wanted to see you this afternoon,” he explained. “I hope you don’t mind.”
She smiled again and shook her head. “I’m glad to see you.”
“Are you?”
She knew why he asked and couldn’t blame him for being uncertain. “I don’t want to be, but I am.” She expected him to be offended by her honesty.
Instead, he looked at her with understanding in his eyes. “We seem to have been given a gift neither of us wants. May we have lunch together?”
“Yes. I’m off today, so my time is my own. Would you like to join us again in the nurses’ dining room?”
“Is there someplace where we might have a semi-private conversation?”
“The officers’ mess might have a quiet corner.”
He nodded, and they both turned toward the building that stood just a few doors away from the chapel. Neither said anything more until they were settled at the end of a large table with full plates in front of them. Ian sat at the end, while Elisabeth sat on the side immediately to his left. Though there were other officers at the table, two empty chairs created a gap for privacy.
After asking a quick blessing over their meal, Ian didn’t reach for his fork right away. Instead, he looked solemnly at Elisabeth. “I came over today because I need to talk with you about something. There’s no easy way to say it, but since I told you I want to be your friend, I feel I have to tell you this.” He studied her face as if trying to discern how she would react then took a deep breath. “I can’t give you any details, but it may be awhile before you see me again. I’ve been assigned to go on patrols.”
Elisabeth didn’t need any further explanation. She had heard patients talking in the ward about “Jerry Patrols.” German U-boats had penetrated partway up the St. Lawrence Seaway and were suspected between Labrador and Newfoundland. While ferrying planes took Ian right over enemy-patrolled waters, this assignment would be even more dangerous. “Jerry Patrols” meant the planes went looking for a fight. The U-boat captains were known for being relentless when attacked. The exchange of gunfire usually ended only when either the submarine or the attacking airplane was destroyed. At that moment, she wished she could take back the evening when they met. If she had known then what she knew now, she would have walked away rather than accept the cup of tea that started their acquaintance.
Instead, she had to sit still and endure the wave of terror that broke over her. Involuntarily, she recalled the early morning conversation with Cynthia before her first flight to England. She’d felt this same clammy fear that morning, and it had proven prophetic. But she couldn’t voice that thought to Ian. He didn’t need her fear. Yet no heartening comment came to mind. Instead, she put a forkful of food into her mouth. It could have been straw for all she knew.
Ian looked closely at her. “I wish I could promise you I’ll come back safe and whole. I’d feel less guilty if I could. All I can tell you is that we want the same thing—an end to this war. You work toward that goal by patching people up. I work toward it by flying a plane wherever they tell me to fly it. We each have to go where duty takes us.”
“I know.” She finally found safe words. “As long as enemy soldiers risk their lives, we have to do the same.”