Helen Tucker and the rest of the girls shushed each other at the familiar sound of their lieutenant’s voice greeting her secretary, PFC Sharon West. After a brief exchange, they heard Sharon say, “Delores said all departments at 0900.”
The order had been delivered yesterday evening, after Lieutenant Rains had left for the day. Helen knew Sharon would have called Rains if she thought it was an emergency, because she’d seen it happen before—for her. It was also true that normally Sharon wouldn’t have let the whole motor pool know anything about Lieutenant Rains’s business, but she’d said she had a surprise and she’d wanted everyone to be in on it. Since there was no telling how long the meeting would go, they’d all come in a little early, something Rains would usually have noticed. But as Rains started making the rounds, Helen thought she looked tired, or perhaps she was just a bit distracted about the meeting. And she might be right to worry.
Everyone knew Sharon regularly ate lunch with secretaries from other departments, and she was especially friendly with Delores Gilbert, who worked for Colonel Issacson, the base commander. Delores ruled her domain with an iron hand, and while she would rarely gossip, she apparently slipped Sharon a little advance notice about meetings or upcoming directives from time to time, so the motor pool was always on top of things. Evidently, Delores had been very tight lipped this time, and her tone as she delivered the message must have made Sharon understand not to ask for any details. They all knew their lieutenant disliked spending time on administrative matters, but at least it was all departments, meaning there wasn’t a problem with the motor pool specifically, which was a relief.
Helen poured herself a cup of joe from the pot that was usually going in Bay One, wondering why it was that her lieutenant didn’t care for coffee. Through an offhand comment by one of her former squad mates who worked in the mess hall, Helen had learned that Rains drank hot tea instead. Helen recalled teasing her squad leader Bett Smythe about drinking that Limey stuff during their basic training, but she couldn’t imagine anyone teasing Lieutenant Rains about anything. When she’d mentioned Rains’s preference to Sharon, they decided their lieutenant had as much right to her tea as any of the other officers had to their coffee, so Sharon had requisitioned a hot plate weeks ago. It had finally come in yesterday, and today Sharon had bought the little teakettle that had been her mother’s and Helen grabbed a handful of tea bags from the mess hall on her way in. Everyone was excited about being in on the surprise, especially since their lieutenant made the motor pool such a great place to work.
Helen was one of the few remaining WACs who knew what the motor pool had been like when Lieutenant Yarborough had been in charge. A shudder of disgust ran through her at the memory. Even so, the other drivers, the mechanics, and even Sharon all agreed that Lieutenant Rains was probably the best boss a girl could ask for. It was true she didn’t joke around much—well, at all, really—but she was fair and even tempered. She didn’t believe in rules for rules sake, but she believed in discipline and in everyone working together toward their cause of winning the war. Most of all, she genuinely cared about everyone who worked for her. Helen knew this was true from her own experience as a former member of Rains’s last squad. Rains knew things about her and Tee that not even their families knew, and if anyone else had been their drill instructor, they’d both be out on the street or possibly even cooling their heels in the stockade.
She saluted, keeping her smile to herself as the lieutenant nodded at her before walking back toward her desk. Once Rains was busy in her office, Sharon set the water on to boil and put a tea bag in one of the coffee mugs. The girls gathered around, watching as the steaming liquid turned almost as dark as black coffee. Gesturing for everyone to stay quiet, Sharon picked up the cup and knocked on the doorframe.
“I thought you might need this before your meeting,” she said, carrying the mug into the room and placing it on Lieutenant Rains’s desk.
They could hear the confusion in Rains’s voice. “I don’t—” she began. There was a pause and a sniff. “Is this tea?” she asked. Sharon must have nodded, because Rains asked, “But how—?”
Sharon cleared her throat, which was the prearranged signal, and the girls began crowding through the doorway, singing, “We Wish You a Merry Christmas.” Helen had made her way toward the front of the group, but she wasn’t singing, partly because she didn’t have that great a voice and partly because she wanted to watch Rains’s reaction. The lieutenant’s jaw tightened and she lowered her gaze until the song was over. Helen couldn’t tell for sure if she a bit emotional, embarrassed, or if she was just uncomfortable with the gesture. When they’d finished and clapped, she stood. “PFC West, shall I assume you are responsible for this unexpected offering?”
Even though Rains’s voice sounded professional as always, Sharon smiled as she gestured toward Helen—although her motion could have included others as well. “Several of us were involved, ma’am. And it’s not truly a gift. The hot plate belongs to the Army and the kettle is on loan from me.” When Rains’s eyes flicked toward her, Helen’s instinct was to duck away as if she were in trouble, as had often been the case in her childhood. This time, though, she was glad to have played a small part in doing something for their officer who never asked for anything for herself, only that each of them give their best effort at all times.
“I see.” Rains nodded, and several of the girls giggled with nervous excitement. “You know our official Christmas party isn’t until next week.”
“Yes, but it’s more fun when it’s truly a surprise,” Sharon explained, her round face still flushed with excitement.
“In that case, I thank you, Corporal West.” Sharon blinked in confusion at the difference in rank and Rains added, “And that is your early Christmas present.”
The group cheered again, as Sharon protested, “But I didn’t ask—”
Rains waved her hand, cutting her off. “I know you didn’t. I put in for this promotion on your behalf. You deserve it for keeping us running smoothly.” She lowered her voice, even though most of the others were chattering excitedly to each other. “And for your handling of our earlier incident.”
Helen knew Rains was referring to the black-market scandal from last month. In the end it had turned out well, but for a time Helen wasn’t sure anything in her life would be right again. Whatever the secretary knew or didn’t know about her role in that whole mess, Helen appreciated that Sharon always had a smile for her. Rains lifted her teacup in salute, adding, “And for a hundred other little things I probably don’t even know about.”
“Thank you, ma’am,” Sharon said, straightening to attention. “It’s a pleasure to serve with you.”
Helen tamped down her envy as she imagined what she would do with the extra income that a corporal made. Oh, well. Money couldn’t buy everything she wanted. She’d learned that lesson the hard way. She’d finally come to understand that real value was found in things that lasted beyond a week or two. The excitement from the article in the paper had pretty much died away, but the motor pool girls still walked a little taller. The important thing wasn’t being celebrities in the eyes of others, it was in the pride they each felt inside for being part of such a great outfit. Smiling as she climbed into the truck, Helen reminded herself that at least she could tell Tee that Lieutenant Rains would have a merry Christmas.
* * *
When Rains arrived at the meeting, the room was already half full. She found a seat on the second row and saw that Sergeant Nash of ordnance, Boudreaux’s second in command, was beside her. She supposed the presence of a non-com was acceptable if their officer wasn’t available, but Boudreaux usually managed to get herself to this kind of meeting. When Nash glanced at her, Rains nodded, but Nash quickly looked away.
“Do you know what this is about?” Laura Bridges, the loud, cheerful captain who ran the mess hall, was seating herself on the other side of Nash. The sergeant gave a barely perceptible shrug of her shoulders that almost looked like a shudder. Bridges looked beyond Nash and spoke to Rains. “How’s everyone’s favorite grease monkey?”
Rains didn’t mind Bridges’s teasing. They’d become acquainted during Rains’s basic training when, as Private Rains, she had peeled more than her share of potatoes as punishment from her drill instructor for various infractions—real or imagined. Bridges often took pity on her, making sure she had something to eat and occasionally, Rains thought, making the pile of potatoes a little smaller than it could have been. She held up her hands. “Keeping it clean today, Captain.” Oddly, she though Nash might have flinched a bit. Bridges laughed and turned to the person on her other side.
Exactly at 0859, Colonel Issacson entered the room and conversation stopped immediately as everyone jumped to their feet, saluting. Janet Issacson had been in charge of Fort Des Moines since the WAAC had first been created, and respect for her was universal, as far as Rains knew. Personally, Rains gave the colonel every credit as the primary reason she was sitting here in a lieutenant’s uniform instead of doing time in the stockade or back home with an OTH—Other than Honorable Discharge. Early on, it had been all she could do not to go AWOL or come to blows with her drill instructor, Sergeant Moore, but during a meeting in which she expected Issacson to dismiss her from the service, she’d found an elder she respected and a mentor for her days as a WAC.
Issacson motioned everyone to be seated and cleared her throat. “I’ve been made aware a situation here at Fort Des Moines that threatens the core beliefs of what we represent as officers and who we are as the Women’s Army Corps.”
In the absolute stillness that followed those words, Rains was aware of two things: a churning inside her not unlike what she’d felt when she’d awoken from her nightmare, and Janie Nash’s leg jittering wildly beside her.
* * *
“So, check the schedule on the board outside to see when each of you will meet with me individually.” The colonel was wrapping up. She was sure everyone was equally relieved. They’d all heard enough, and the restlessness in the room was almost palpable. “I want to emphasize that your primary task here is to assure those under your command that this kind of behavior will not be tolerated in the WAC, and that they can feel safe here.”
The question of feeling safe depends, Rains thought, on what is meant by “this kind of behavior.” Because if her commanding officer was speaking of actions in which the powerful preyed on the unsuspecting, or when those in charge took advantage of those who were not, then she totally agreed. But she had a bad feeling that Issacson assumed that such conduct was automatically associated with people like her, and Bett, and their friends. The colonel dismissed them and Rains joined the crowd checking the board. Nash was first, confirming what she already suspected: This was about Miriam Boudreaux. She saw Kathleen Hartley working her way through the group and noted her name was listed about midway down. Hers was last. She wondered how the order had been chosen. Was there some message here or were names pulled from a hat? Knowing the military, she doubted the latter but walked away, deciding to ponder on the possible implication at home tonight, when she could clear her mind and consult with Bett about it. The only good thing she could discern was that Miriam apparently hadn’t started naming anyone yet. If she had, Rains would probably have been relieved of her duties already. She looked around, double-checking that no MPs were approaching, and was surprised to note how quickly the area had emptied. Normally the officers stood around and talked to each other for several minutes after a meeting, but that was not the case today. Was it worry for their troops or worry for themselves, she wondered.
She was halfway to the motor pool when she heard a familiar voice call her name. It was Hartley. Rains saluted her and Hartley returned the greeting before she whispered, “We should talk. I’ll call tonight.”
Rains nodded and pointed in the direction of the parking lot, as if Hartley had asked her a question related to cars. She hated the deception, but it would be necessary until they determined their friends and their enemies. Looking into Kathleen’s eyes, she spoke from the heart. “Be very careful, Captain. This will get worse before it gets better.”
* * *
Sharon looked at her questioningly when she returned, but Rains only shook her head slightly. She knew her secretary would hear all the details soon enough, but she didn’t want to be the one to repeat the news of the meeting. Her throat felt tight, and the words would scratch like sandpaper…if she could even get them out.
The radio was on, though, and she paused to hear the announcer give the latest war updates. As the German counteroffensive had intensified and the magnitude of it was better understood, everyone—from the average civilian to the highest military brass—seemed focused on the events in the Ardennes. Bastogne was a hub city, with seven roads going in and out, and therefore was critical to the movement of German armor as they pressed their surprise attack. But a stubborn conglomeration of American airborne and armored infantry forces had been holding the town against superior Nazi forces for days. There was news from all along the front, but the siege at Bastogne had captured the public’s attention, and morale of soldiers everywhere had been boosted by the stubborn defense of the town. For now, the terrible winter weather meant the surrounded forces could not be resupplied or assisted by air support, but the newscaster offered hope that the weather was due to improve. Thinking of her brother Thomas, Rains went into her office…and closed the door.
* * *
The gentle press of warm lips brought a smile to Bett’s face. She hadn’t heard Rain come in, but that wasn’t unusual at any time. Since she’d been working nights, however, her sleep was especially heavy and deep.
“You are very tempting, there in that bed,” Rain murmured.
“Come and join me, then,” Bett whispered, patting the pillow even as she wondered if she could actually manage any kind of intimacy. Lately, the only thing she’d felt was exhaustion. When Rain didn’t answer, she opened her eyes. “What is it?”
“I need to change and then we should eat.” When Bett cocked her head, she added, “And yes, there is something I need to tell you.”
By the time they’d finished dinner, Bett was wide awake and spitting mad. “Damn that woman,” she fumed, speaking of Miriam Boudreaux. “Because she couldn’t keep her hands to herself, we’re all going to be under the gun.” As a recruit, she’d been amused by how seriously some of the women took the soldiering business, but her attitude had changed since she’d been in cryptography. Now her work was important and gratifying, and she’d taken on a new feeling of satisfaction in what she was doing for her country. There was no question that without the Army, none of this would have been possible, but there was also no question that the same Army would rid itself of her and Rain and anyone else they suspected of such “perversion” before they could blink twice.
“What are we going to do?” she asked, because of course Rain would have a plan.
“Kathleen is going to call,” Rain answered before she thought better of it.
Bett’s eyes narrowed. “Is she now? Well, that’s cozy. I suppose brilliant Captain Hartley will have all the answers and all of our problems will be solved.” God, she was tired of hearing that woman’s name.
Rain stood and began clearing the dishes. “Bett, she was in the officers’ meeting and we only spoke for a few seconds afterward. But we agreed we’d talk tonight and work on a plan.”
“Good. Let me know how she works it all out.” If she hadn’t already been mad, it might not have sounded so bitter. But she’d never had to deal with a rival before and it was making her crazy. In the past, she’d never kept company with one woman long enough to care. She stood too, intending to finish getting ready and go in early. But halfway down the hall, she realized this wasn’t what she wanted to do at all. She hated arguing with Rain because the distance it created between them made her heart feel hollow. She turned back to the kitchen where Rain was wiping her hands on a dish towel.
“Tell me this: When you and Kathleen spoke after the meeting, did she seek you out or did you speak to her first?”
“I was on my way back to the motor pool and she called to me.”
Rain had answered without hesitation, not that Bett would have questioned her anyway. Rain wouldn’t lie to her—of that, she was convinced. She sighed and took a step closer. “Rain, I know you don’t see it, but…” She trailed off when Rain took a step toward her. She really didn’t want this fight. She wanted Rain to take her in her arms and say it would all work out. She wanted Rain to tell her those brave men at Bastogne, including her brother, would be okay and that this whole terrible war would be over soon and there would be peace and they would always be together. Always? That last thought surprised her a little, partly because the war had made words like that almost unusable, but mainly because she’d never been an always kind of girl. She and Rain used words like “only” and “always” during their most romantic moments, but with the other women, she’d maintained that things said in the heat of passion didn’t really count. At that time, she’d never been a live with someone kind of girl either, but that too was different now. Rain seemed to sense the change in her mood, because she put her hands cautiously on Bett’s shoulders.
“I realize you worry about Kathleen’s intentions, but do you also worry about mine?”
She found herself staring into Rain’s eyes, seeing only love and complete devotion there. “No,” she said quietly, before she could stop herself. Would it help her cause if Rain believed she was worried about her too?
As if reading her thoughts, Rain said, “Good. Because that is what I hold to. Your trust in me and mine in you is one of the ties that binds us together.”
Sometimes Rain used language that was almost poetic or religious sounding, and Bett had often wondered if it was because of her voracious reading habit. Now it just seemed sweet and true—exactly like Rain herself. Bett moved against her lover’s body, wrapping her arms around her waist. “Are you sure you want to be bound to me? I can be such a bitch sometimes.”
Rain held her close. “I am sure I am exactly where I want to be at this moment and you are the only one I will be with, always.”
There’s that word again, Bett thought as she relaxed into Rain’s familiar embrace. A few weeks ago, Rain had spoken of Bett coming with her to the reservation to meet her people, but she hadn’t repeated the invitation since Bett had told her about her marriage. For days now, she’d been too caught up in her work to think about anything else, but perhaps this was a good time to mention it again. As she opened her mouth to speak, the phone rang. Rain didn’t flinch, didn’t let her go, didn’t move at all from holding her. “Shouldn’t I get that?” Bett asked, secretly pleased that it seemed of such little importance.
“Only if you want to,” Rain said, planting soft kisses in Bett’s hair. “Personally, I’d rather keep doing this.”
“Only this?” Bett asked as a second ring echoed around the kitchen.
“Well, sometimes one thing leads to another,” Rain murmured, smoothing her hands down Bett’s back. “You taught me that.”
“Did I?” Bett laughed as the phone rang a third time. “All right. I give up.” Reluctantly she stepped away, smiling at Rain’s little grunt of disappointment, and answered the phone. When she looked back after saying hello, the desire in Rain’s eyes almost stopped her breath. She was going to make damn sure no other woman ever saw that look. Especially not the one on the other end of the line.
* * *
That night, Bett spent the first few hours coordinating between Luna’s transmissions and those being relayed to the advancing troops. Not surprisingly, a blame game had begun among the higher ranks. How had intelligence misread this German buildup? It was now speculated that as many as thirty German divisions—a quarter of a million men—had massed along a thinly guarded stretch of the American lines. It was becoming clear their intent was to split the Allied forces and gain access to the Belgium port of Antwerp. Aware of the high-profile, extremely sensitive content of the messages, along with the intense scrutiny at every level, Bett wasn’t able to send Luna the word “thaŋkšítku” or even “sister.” Even so, the tone and content of Luna’s replies seemed less anxious, more normal, than on that first night. Bett could only hope he wasn’t in too much pain, though she imagined him to be tough and stoic, like Rain.
She thought of her conversation with Kathleen and the plan for the four of them to meet for dinner tomorrow evening. Everyone agreed that another day would bring more information about the situation on the base, even if the source was only the WAC rumor mill. Bett vacillated between wishing the cryptography building was located on base so she wouldn’t have to rely on secondhand information and being glad that it wasn’t.
Cryptography members were so thoroughly vetted, she was fairly certain there’d be no further examination of her or the other WACs who worked there. But Kathleen’s tone made it clear she was worried—very worried—and perhaps she had good reason to be. Probably not for herself though, Bett thought, envisioning Kathleen’s pretty face and distinctly feminine manner. Even with the primary suspect already under house arrest, Bett reasoned that whatever else was happening on base could be like the Army’s version of an inquisition in which old scores were settled, all in the guise of “rooting out undesirables.” Thankfully, highly trained medical personnel—even adorably butch ones like Whit—were viewed as critical, greatly valued units and therefore less likely to be targeted. She swallowed as awareness dawned. Kathleen was worried about Rain. Her Rain, her wonderful, beloved Rain, for whom leaving the Army—especially under questionable circumstances—would be unacceptable, almost beyond bearing. She straightened in her chair. It simply wasn’t going to be allowed to happen. She had money, and money was power. She would do whatever it took to make sure Rain was safe.
Satisfied with that decision, her mind turned to her other worry. She hadn’t been able to reach her mother to inform her their trip to New York would have to wait. She had called three times on three different days—twice from home in the afternoon and once in the evening while waiting for a transmission to come in. Each time the housekeeper had said her mother was away or “unavailable.” Bett hadn’t wanted to leave her bad news in a message, but tonight’s news from the Ardennes had made the decision for her. As soon as she’d concluded her immediate duties that evening, she’d called and left the information with the housekeeper. I cannot come to New York now due to circumstances beyond my control. I will call you again as soon as possible and we will make other arrangements. Happy Holidays. Love, Bett
In truth, she was more than a little relieved to be spared the trip. She couldn’t seem to muster up her usual excitement at the prospect of bustling sidewalks and busy New York traffic, and the indulgence of staying in her mother’s luxurious apartment while making meaningless chatter at lavish parties seemed vulgar, given her intensive participation in the desperate struggle that the press had taken to calling “The Battle of the Bulge.” While waiting on Luna’s messages in the deep of Iowa’s December nights, Bett couldn’t stop envisioning him and his comrades—outnumbered and freezing, with food, ammunition, and medical supplies running low. Now rumors were reaching them that the Nazis were executing prisoners and torturing civilians. She felt raw and humbled by what she had, much of which she had often taken for granted. She’d never considered herself particularly patriotic, but she knew her country was fighting this war for all the right reasons. Deep gratitude filled her at the thought of her safe little home, and memories of Rain’s sweet loving touch and warm tender words gave her profound comfort. What she needed most was some quiet, contemplative time with her lover, but there were battles to be fought at Fort Des Moines too. And she’d never been more convinced that those actions were for all the right reasons as well.
* * *
They picked up Kathleen and Whit and went to dinner at Mel’s, a restaurant that Rains knew well. They needed privacy for this discussion, and Rains was able to say with some certainty that official Women’s Army Corps eyes and ears would not be there. Whit took to the place immediately, remarking that it reminded her of a favorite diner in Chicago. Kathleen was a bit more tentative until the owners, Gracie and Mel, upon learning she was considering a future in food service, warmed her with stories of restaurant adversities and customer disasters—all told in good humor, of course.
Once their food arrived, the group ate quietly for a moment. When their plates were empty and Whit grunted her approval as Kathleen wiped her mouth with a napkin, Rains took that as a sign to begin.
“One concern is what will happen within departments in light of these meetings and the pressure that will be brought to bear. I worry that fingers will be pointed for no reason other than a grudge or someone attempting to save themselves by naming others.”
Word was already out that Sergeant Nash’s three-hour session with the colonel had ended with her being transferred to another base. The head of the quartermasters’ meeting was much shorter, and there were no immediate, obvious results. One issue was whether officers were being asked to volunteer questionable individuals up front or if they being told to return to their units with the idea of deciding on names. Was there a quota? No one knew.
“At this point, our only recourse as officers will be to encourage calm among those we know and to emphasize the ‘bad apple’ aspect of this situation. The perpetrator of this evil has been taken into custody. No one else needs to suffer for her misdeeds. The WAC has cleaned its house quickly and effectively.”
Whit and Kathleen nodded solemnly. Rains felt Bett’s hand squeezing her leg under the table, and the corner of her mouth lifted briefly in acknowledgment. “But we must also deal with the root of our problem. Are we all in agreement that the individual responsible must leave the WAC now?” she asked, relieved to see that everyone, even Whit, nodded. “The question then is how to accomplish that without sacrificing our own careers.” They all looked at her expectantly. “And I welcome your suggestions because I have no experience with this kind of intrigue.”
Watching the faces around her fall into expressions of indecision, Rains understood and accepted that the burden of responsibility was on her shoulders. That had always been her advantage in the WAC. Most White women were only trained to be, not to act, as she had been.
Bett turned to Whit. “Has anyone has questioned Miriam yet? I assume she’ll be asked to name others, and if she is, will she?”
Whit shook her head. “I’m sure she needed most of the day to sleep off the booze. But I don’t know the procedure in cases like this and I don’t know Miriam’s state of mind right now. She might not give up anyone else, if she can see herself as the hero in this scenario. She likes that role almost as much as that of the lady-killer.”
“She would only be a hero to us,” Kathleen pointed out. “It would seem the case against her is pretty strong. Apparently, the girl she fondled punched her and went straight to Colonel Issacson.”
“Who is the girl’s sergeant?” Rains asked quietly, thinking of the time she’d first become aware of Miriam Boudreaux’s twisted behavior, back when it involved a recruit from her squad. She deserved this responsibility because she should have taken action right then.
“Someone new. I don’t know her,” Kathleen answered. “She might have been your replacement, Gale. I believe her last name is Archer.”
This time Bett didn’t hide her touch. She put her hand on Rains’s arm and they looked at each other for a long moment. Rains knew Bett must be feeling terrible for the young woman who had been her friend during basic training. “Yes. We know her. I’ll go in early tomorrow and speak with her. Then I’ll go by Boudreaux’s room and see if I can get some sense of her intentions.”
Kathleen looked at her, shaking her head. “I’m not sure that’s a good idea, Gale. Miriam was very angry with you at that last dinner we had. Seeing you now might push her over the edge and make her decide to turn us all in.”
“Or perhaps it is what she needs to find the courage not to. To have her so-called enemy acknowledge the power she now holds. You said we needed to find a way to let her beat me at something. Perhaps this is it.”
“You realize that even if you convinced her to spare the rest of us, she might still turn you in.”
Rains nodded grimly. “Yes, I have considered that in the little time I’ve had. Believe me, Kathleen, I have no wish to sacrifice my career, although if doing so would save everyone else, at least it would not be in vain.”
Everyone else at the table sat up straight, all talking at once. She could only make out a few phrases, most of which sounded like various forms of “no.” Whit’s face had darkened, while Kathleen was white as a sheet. She held her hands in surrender, but Bett didn’t stop.
“That is not happening, Rain. I absolutely forbid you to do such a thing.”
Rains hid her smile. It was very enticing when Bett took on a command presence, but this wasn’t the time or the place to say so.
After they dropped Kathleen and Whit off, having agreed to keep in touch on the phone each evening with the latest news, Rains went back to her earlier thought. “I feel for Jo Archer. Her first time as a sergeant and all of this going on. I should have kept closer tabs on her.”
“You’ve been having lunch with her once or twice a week, haven’t you? And she can always reach you at the motor pool.”
“Still, I’m going over there early tomorrow to talk with her,” Rains said, waving Bett’s comments away.
As soon as they were home, Bett hugged her lover tightly. “Are we in trouble, Rain?” she asked into Rain’s chest.
Rain closed her eyes and Bett could almost feel her searching someplace far away. “I don’t know,” she said after a minute. “Too much remains undecided.”
Watching Rain getting ready for bed, her heart ached to join her. She wished they could spend the rest of the evening in each other’s arms, their bodies moving together, and that they’d awaken together in the morning. She missed that start to her day almost as much as she missed the rest of it. But she couldn’t give in to that yearning now. She had to say her piece first.
“There’s something I want you to consider, Beloved.” She took Rain’s hand and pulled her over to sit on the edge of the bed. “It’s about your plan to speak with Miriam Boudreaux. It shouldn’t be you who goes. It should be me.”
Rain shook her head. “No, Bett. I don’t want you to be alone with Miriam Boudreaux.”
“Rain, what can she do to me? She’s confined to quarters until her hearing. She’s not going to do anything stupid to jeopardize her case before that.”
“But having you visit her may underscore her belief that she is irresistible to young women.”
“And what if it does? It’s for the prosecution to prove that wrong.”
“But you may put yourself in a position to testify in the trial if you go to see her.”
“I might get questioned by the attorneys, but what could I offer to either side? Yes, she invited me to the rifle range but I didn’t go. And yes, I have heard she has a bad reputation, but that’s only hearsay.”
Rain was silent for a moment, and Bett knew to wait. “You suppose you will be better able to determine her state of mind because she will only be angry if she sees me, but she might be more willing to talk with you.”
“It’s possible it will play out that way.”
“It’s also possible she will be vulgar and inappropriate with you, Bett. Certainly she would want you in any case, but she may feel she has nothing to lose and will take this opportunity to try and get to me through you.”
Bett nodded. “That is also possible. But I can always walk out. She can’t follow me and I’ll come home to you, where we can discuss whatever she says.”
Rain rocked a little. “And what about your temper? She might just make you mad enough to say something she can use to her advantage.”
“I promise to stay very calm. Besides, I only used to lose my temper with you because I felt like I couldn’t ever win.”
“And now?”
“Now I win every day,” Bett said, pulling Rain on top of her. “And every night.”