May 8, 1943
The sun’s warm rays tickled Lainie’s cheek. She peeked at the light and groaned. She hadn’t slipped into a nightmare. She truly lay in a strange bed, in a strange room, in a strange town.
The room felt tiny, with barely enough room for the narrow bed, an oak vanity, and a heavy wardrobe. Floral wallpaper decorated the walls, and a rag rug covered the floor next to the bed. Its rose and blue colors brightened the room. She only wished her spirit was as bright.
She curled up in a ball and pulled the quilt over her head. She should have listened to everyone who told her to stay home.
No. When she’d boarded the train to Kentucky for nurses training, determined to make a difference for whichever soldiers she nursed, she’d set her course. To go back would prove to everyone she was still a child in need of care.
She pinched her eyes shut and scrunched her nose. Maybe if she wished hard enough, the world would miraculously right itself. The war would end. The boys would return home. And she would regain a life of ease. Was that what she wanted? Did it fit her anymore?
Someone stomped down the wood floors of the hallway. Lainie pulled the covers down and opened her eyes. A knock shook the door in its frame.
“Still in bed, Lainie? Get up or you’ll miss breakfast.” Mrs. Babcock’s alto voice filtered through the door. The woman welcomed her last night and led her to this room as if she’d expected Lainie to occupy it.
Lainie tried to relax from her tight ball, but her joints fought her. The train ride had pushed her weary body too far. Pain seared her arms and legs. She gritted her teeth and breathed deeply. One. Two. Three. She exhaled and relaxed her muscles.
“You okay?”
Lainie grimaced. “I’m fine. I’ll be down in a minute.”
“All right.” The words sounded doubtful, as if Mrs. Babcock thought she’d turn over and ignore the day.
Lainie sat and pushed off the bed. After a moment, her limbs unlocked, and she lurched to the wardrobe. She opened the door and stared at the clothes. What would she do in a day that stretched in front of her with nothing to fill it? She didn’t have anyone to impress. She reached for a serviceable navy skirt and white blouse, then stilled when she spotted her red sweetheart blouse. The town would surely flood with soldiers for the weekend. Yes, red was perfect.
Moments later she tugged a brush through her curly hair and straightened her skirt. She slipped down the stairs and headed to the dining room. Dirty dishes loaded one table. A few scrambled eggs and a slice of toast were all that remained at the buffet.
Mrs. Babcock bustled through a door, a stained apron tied tight around her ample middle, arms filled with plates of bacon and pancakes. “Here’s some fresh food, missy. Please make it down with everyone else in the future. Breakfast is at seven o’clock sharp.”
Lainie’s mouth watered at the crisp aroma of bacon. “Yes, ma’am. Smells wonderful.”
A smile tipped the corner of Mrs. Babcock’s mouth. “I serve nothing but the best here. I serve two meals a day: breakfast for boarders and supper for anyone who comes with a dollar and an appetite. This particular slab of bacon came from Elmer Jackson. He does something that makes it extra smoky. Enjoy.”
“Since I’m the only one here, why don’t you join me? I can help clean later.”
“It would feel good to sit a bit. It’s been a long morning.”
Lainie glanced at the clock on the buffet. She hated to think how early Mrs. Babcock had gotten up if she thought eight a.m. constituted a long morning. After Mrs. Babcock shoveled three pancakes and four slices of bacon onto her plate, she bowed her head. Lainie stared.
“Don’t mind me. I hate to miss an opportunity to tell my Lord thank you.”
Lainie nodded, then stabbed a piece of pancake and ran it through the maple syrup pooled on her plate. She savored the sweet bite and dove in for more.
“What are your plans for the day?” Mrs. Babcock dabbed her lips with a napkin.
“I need to find a job at the fort. The gentleman I spoke with yesterday was less than encouraging. Apparently, he hadn’t heard the fort needs civilian workers.”
Mrs. Babcock scooped applesauce on top of her pancakes and smeared it around. “Availability of jobs depends on who you know. What do you want?”
“To be on a boat crossing the Atlantic. But I’ll settle for anything.”
“You’ve got ideas. Otherwise, you’d be at Kearney’s Air Base, working a factory job, or at a base in Lincoln or Omaha. Folks don’t come to Robinson without a specific reason.”
Lainie studied her plate. She didn’t know this woman or if she could trust her with her hidden hope.
Mrs. Babcock waited.
“I’ve never done anything that mattered before. Somehow I have to contribute to the war. My best friend, Audrey, works at the North Platte Canteen.”
“I’ve heard of it. Boys rave about it. Did you volunteer?”
“From the first day. But I have to do more than give cookies and fruit to soldiers. I planned to nurse.” Lainie swallowed against the pain. “But that died when I got sick. I have all the training but can’t use it. I guess I’m typing pool bound.”
“So you type?”
“Never tried, but I can learn.”
Mrs. Babcock smiled and pushed back from the table. “I know what we’ll do after the dishes, then.”
Before Lainie knew what had happened, she found herself standing beside Mrs. Babcock in the kitchen, drying dishes. After what felt like hours, the last teaspoon and glass were tucked into their spots in the cupboards and drawers.
“Follow me.” Mrs. Babcock bounced down the hallway, quite a feat considering her girth. Lainie giggled as she followed behind. “I have the ticket to get you ready for the typing pool.” Mrs. Babcock pushed open a door with her hip and waved Lainie in.
“Welcome to my office. You’ll care about the typewriter sitting on that small table over there. You’ll type fifty words a minute in no time.”
Three hours later, Lainie decided her idea of practice and Mrs. Babcock’s didn’t match. At all. Everything from her fingers to her shoulders and back ached from huddling over the typewriter for so long. And her ears hurt from Mrs. Babcock’s constant instructions. No, not that finger. Raise your wrists. Feet flat on the floor. She was worse than a drill instructor in the Army. Lainie had proven to be all thumbs as she fumbled to copy a newspaper article. She’d had no idea typing had rules.
When she’d decided she couldn’t take one more minute, Mrs. Babcock stood. She grabbed her hat from the desk. “Enough of that.”
Amen. Lainie launched from her chair, then stretched her arms to work out the kinks.
“Now we head downtown for lunch, and I’ll introduce you to folks who can help.”
“Maybe the typing pool isn’t a good idea.”
“Nonsense. You’ll get better, give yourself some time.”
Lainie groaned at the thought. Kindhearted as Mrs. Babcock was, she had no idea what sort of project Lainie could be. “Did I mention I dropped typing in high school?”
“No, but you have enough training to be inefficient. And quit calling me Mrs. Babcock. You’ve got me looking over my shoulder for my spinster aunt, God bless her soul. Esther will do just fine, especially seeing as you’re a boarder.”
Lainie smiled. She’d accept any offer of friendship. She followed Esther down the hall and watched as she pinned a floppy hat to her bun. The woman certainly had her own sense of style. “I’ll grab my handbag and be right back.” Lainie hiked up the steps and slipped into her room. She grabbed a navy pillbox hat from the wardrobe and pinned it to her upsweep. She lined red lipstick across her lips, and then studied her reflection. Yes, she would make the right kind of impression. A confident woman who knew what she wanted. She straightened her skirt and eased down the stairs.
After walking a block past small houses dotting Third Street, Lainie followed her hostess to Second. Silence hung between them until Lainie wondered what had happened to her order-barking hostess. They strolled up Second toward what Lainie assumed was Main Street. With each block, the houses thinned out, replaced by businesses. In the business district, none of the buildings stood taller than two stories and all were constructed of brick or wood.
Cars and trucks lined the streets in front of the storefronts.
Mrs. Babcock leaned toward her. “The ranchers have hit town for supplies.”
Lainie looked around and noticed that something was absent from the scene. “Where are the soldiers?”
Mrs. Babcock sniffed and crinkled her nose as if she’d caught a whiff of a boarder’s soiled laundry. “Look here, missy, if you want to find a beau, you’d better get back on the next train south and return to your Canteen.”
Lainie stopped and stared at her. “Excuse me?”
“Look at you. All dressed in red, with flaming lips to boot. You are a walking advertisement for a date.”
“There is nothing wrong with wanting to look one’s best.”
“Honey, this ain’t no excursion. In fact, if that’s what you’re looking for, maybe you need to head up to Rapid City and gawk at Mount Rushmore. If you stay around here, the only thing folks’ll gawk at is you.”
“While I would like to see Mount Rushmore, I highly doubt I’ll draw the same attention. Of all the suggestions. I am no floozy.”
“I doubt we’ll see many privates down here today. Those with Class A passes usually seek greener pastures in other towns.” A sly sparkle danced in Esther’s eyes. “Instead, I want to introduce you to some of the ladies in the civilian pool. If they like you, you’re halfway to a job.”
Lainie’s shoulders slumped. This was not what she’d anticipated when they left the boarding house. All that hiking and pretending she felt fine, but no job. “Lead on.”
They strolled into Mae’s Diner. Green-checked oilcloth covered the tables, and mason jars stuffed with silverware and napkins graced each one. Four women huddled around a center table, talking with gestures flying. It was a wonder no one got slapped. Esther waved Lainie forward. “These are some of the gals who work over at Robinson. Barbara Scott is in the post headquarters along with Naomi Tyler.”
Lainie nodded at the two.
“Mary Nelson works with the war dogs, and Liz Czaplewski floats.”
In minutes, Lainie hovered over a slice of apple pie and cup of steaming coffee. The women rushed over each other’s stories about working at the fort. Lainie’s mind spun with the mass of information. Not even the coffee could keep her mind focused on the forest of details.
It was a relief when the redhead, Naomi, jumped up.
“Sorry, gals, but I’ve got to scoot. John’ll be looking for me.”
Liz sighed. “Ah, the life of newlyweds.”
“That’s right, sister. Can’t keep him lonely at home.” Naomi grabbed her hat and bag, then wiggled her fingers in a salute. “Until next week.”
One by one the girls finished their drinks and slipped away. Esther and Lainie followed Liz out, then walked home. Once she returned to her room, Lainie pulled out her hatpins and plopped the hat and pins on her vanity. She eased onto the bed and relaxed against the pillows. After a full day, she’d come no closer to a job. What should she do?
The next morning, Lainie walked the couple of blocks to the First Christian Church she’d noticed during Saturday’s walk. She entered the wooden chapel and found a spot on a bench several rows from the door. Families and an occasional soldier sat in the pews. Lainie sat there waiting … for something. Instead, she felt nothing. Emptiness had dogged her steps. Ever since she’d gotten sick, it seemed God had turned His back on her. She’d prayed to no avail. He surely knew her dreams of becoming a nurse, yet here she sat in a strange place with the body of a ninety-year-old woman. Crawford might be a new town, but she was dealing with the same God. One who didn’t seem interested in her any more.