Lieutenant Victoria Whitman sat in her jeep outside the medic’s office with almost fifteen minutes before her shift began. She’d left home early because she needed some time to think, to consider if her worries were legitimate or if she was overreacting. To her view, Kat hadn’t been the same since the night of their last dinner party. For one thing, she’d asked on several occasions if there had been any more contact from Miriam Boudreaux and whether she was really capable of carrying out her threats against Gale Rains. As shocking as it was for Kat to bring up Boudreaux at all, it was even more surprising, Whit admitted to herself, that Miriam hadn’t come back to her with details of her plans. In fact, she hadn’t seen or heard from her at all since that first discussion after her night shift. Normally, she would have stopped by the ordnance building at some point, just to check on her, but right now she didn’t mind staying out of Boudreaux’s latest drama. She had enough to worry about.
Rains had come over to help with the yard as promised and had seemed to enjoy the work. She willingly took on the hardest tasks, and they’d talked easily about the different plants and Whit’s ideas about what she might do in the spring. Rains had volunteered to help again anytime Whit might need her. But Kat, who never had any particular interest in being outdoors before, had fluttered and flitted around them until Whit had handed her a pair of clippers. At that she’d laughed and gone back inside, where she’d made some stew and a salad for their lunch, practically glowing over Rains’s appreciative remarks. Afterward, when Rains was chopping up some fallen logs for firewood, Whit had seen Kathleen watching from their dining room window with a strangely contemplative expression on her face. Overall, her lover had begun to seem distracted and distant in a way she hadn’t been since the trouble had started in Florida, which was why Whit needed to clear her mind and make sure she was reading the signs right.
She and Kathleen had entered basic training at the same time, but at different bases, so their paths didn’t cross until several weeks after graduation, when Kathleen was transferred to Florida. Whit was attending a house party with a date. At this point she couldn’t even remember the other woman’s name. They’d never been serious about each other; rather, they were both looking for an opportunity to cut loose a bit now that the rigors of basic training were over. When she’d caught sight of the striking lieutenant across the room, Whit remembered her immediately from the awards banquet she’d attended in Chicago with her father. Kathleen Hartley. Who’d have thought she’d join the service? When the woman in question looked her way, Whit nodded, but Kathleen looked away immediately. She clearly didn’t remember that they’d met, but Whit couldn’t help smiling at her each time they were in the same vicinity. Whit felt a little guilty, though she’d been careful not to neglect her date—making sure she had a drink and dancing when she wanted. But in her mind’s eye, she couldn’t lose the image of lustrous auburn hair and striking green eyes. When her date joined the line for the restroom, Whit tried to find Hartley, but had lost track of her. She’d asked three other women if they knew where that redheaded lieutenant was, but no one did. Passing back by, she saw her date was next for the toilet, and the woman who walked out ahead of her was Kathleen. Whit smiled again and Hartley walked right up to her.
“Do I know you?” she asked, sounding more than a little annoyed.
“Not as well as you’re going to,” Whit answered, hoping that Hartley was someone who would enjoy a little flirting. Luckily, she was.
She’d refreshed Kathleen’s memory of their previous encounter, and her demeanor warmed considerably. They’d exchanged information and had several fun dates before things moved to the next level. Once they did, Whit hadn’t wanted to look anywhere else, although they didn’t speak of exclusivity for several more months. Kathleen Hartley was classy and interesting and beautiful. She seemed to enjoy that Whit wanted to hold the door for her and she never once suggested, as one of Whit’s former girlfriends had, that she try to “femme up a little” during the work week. In spite of her upper-class background, Kathleen respected that Whit’s dad was a cop and she seemed to appreciate Whit’s skill as a medic. She’d loved the story of how Whit’s interest in the profession had begun with a high school crush on a young school nurse. Whit told her how her father had thought she might follow in his footsteps by becoming an MP, but one look at the captain in charge of the medical corps and Whit’s mind had been made up. “So this really is a case of you loving your job,” Kathleen had teased, causing Whit to blush slightly.
In Florida, it was easy to take a girl out without spending a lot of money. Walking on the beach was free, and there were several cheap places to eat close to the base. Kathleen had insisted they go Dutch the first time, but after that, Whit wouldn’t let her pay. Their first kiss was under the stars with their bare feet in the sand and the waves rolling in nearby. It wasn’t particularly soft or delicate, as many first-time kisses are. Whit might have gone that way, but Kathleen’s mouth had pressed against hers, demanding and needy at the same time, and when they’d finally pulled apart, Whit asked, “Where’d you learn to kiss like that?”
Kathleen had laughed and leaned in to nip at her neck before she’d answered, “In the Army.”
Their first time in bed, however, had been less than spectacular. Kathleen hadn’t told her she’d made a reservation (and paid for) a room at a nice hotel several miles from the base. When Whit figured out what was going on, she almost came merely by envisioning getting Kathleen naked on a big swanky bed. But Kathleen had been very nervous, even wearing a long nightgown at first, and Whit quickly realized that beyond the kissing stage, she’d had very little experience with women, and apparently her encounters with men had been less than positive as well. Whit was grateful for her anatomy classes and for her more serious relationship with the woman physician she still saw occasionally. The doctor, whose name was Rachel Milligan, had taught her way more than the medical corps about certain aspects of the female body—and the female mind. “Thoughts can create real physical changes in your body, and you can use this to your advantage,” Rachel had told her once when they’d been playing doctor with their true roles reversed.
“I’m sorry,” Kathleen had said when Whit had first touched her and found her tight and dry. “I’ve never responded well in these intimate settings. I want to, but then I freeze up.”
“Everyone has a trigger, Kat. We just have to find yours.”
Kathleen had looked away, biting her lip. “Do you really think so?” She sounded close to tears.
“You can trust me,” Whit said, bringing Kat’s face back to hers and kissing her softly. “I’m an Army medic.”
It took a few tries, but they figured it out. Once they’d been together enough times that Kathleen could be completely honest with Whit, she’d admitted getting most excited when imagining other people in intimate situations. “Like two women having sex?” Whit had asked, already a little excited herself. Kat had nodded, clearly embarrassed. “Especially if there’s a chance they might get caught,” she murmured. Fuck yeah, Whit thought, before launching into a completely fabricated story about an attractive young recruit who’d stopped by the office because she wanted to see what the inside of an ambulance looked like. “Did you show her?” Kat was already squirming slightly on the bed, but Whit deliberately didn’t touch her yet. She could already tell how this seduction would need to go.
And sure enough, once she’d understood that conservative, proper Lieutenant Hartley only needed permission to become aroused by simply hearing about particular individuals and / or envisioning behaviors in which she would never actual physically participate but obviously enjoyed imagining, Kat had come alive in her arms. Sometimes they would share their fantasies; other times, they wouldn’t say a word. “All I ask,” Whit had told her, “is that you’re aware of exactly who you’re with when you come. You don’t have to call my name, but I want to know that you know.” Kat had done that for her, with a look or nails down her back or a hand through her hair, and it had been more than good. They’d had almost a year of sneaking time in one of their rooms in the officers’ quarters, or finding motels that didn’t ask any questions, before they were able to get into one of the off-base apartments.
Whit had expected things between them would really get going then, but after only a few months, the announcement had come about the base closing and everyone being transferred. Kat had become preoccupied and withdrawn, and their erotic evenings had dwindled and then all but stopped. Whit took an early lunch one day and stopped midway through the food line to watch as a slightly older man, Captain Griggs, who had been brought on to help with the transition, was very clearly hitting on Kat. His outstretched hand on the table was barely an inch from touching hers and his eyes drifted back and forth from her face to her bustline as he spoke.
That someone else found Kathleen Hartley attractive was not unusual. What was different, though, was Kat’s reaction. She was leaning toward him, smiling with her head tilted and lips parted slightly, very clearly interested…or giving a damn good impression of being interested. Whit couldn’t help wondering if this was the cause of Kat’s recent indifference. She was concerned her lover wasn’t doing anything to discourage this advance and even more distraught at the idea that Kat seemed interested in trying out her now-familiar sexual ease with a man.
That evening they’d had a terrible fight, and Whit had made it clear she’d have nothing else to say until Kathleen saw the error of her ways. They’d both slept—or pretended to sleep—rigidly on their own sides of the bed, careful not to touch. They spent their time in the apartment in different rooms, the stillness between them growing. When she saw Captain Griggs walking with Kat across the base that third morning, Whit returned to the medical office and called Rachel Milligan. She knew it was wrong, using Rachel that way, but by that time she just wanted Kat to hurt the way she was hurting. She and Rachel scheduled a date.
As evening fell, Whit wrote a note for Kathleen on her dressing table, telling her not to expect her back at home that night. She knew she sounded childishly angry, but it was the only way she could disguise her deep hurt over the probable futility of the gesture. Her only comfort was that, unlike a rejected housewife, at least the Army would give her someplace else to go if…or when…Kat decided to have a go of it with Griggs. Sometimes the Army was a pain in the ass, but right then its presence was something dependable, unlike the woman she’d thought of as the love of her life, and she was grateful. She’d been finishing her hair, almost ready to leave, when Kat came into the bedroom. Whit had been more than surprised when Kathleen looked up from reading her note and broke their silence, asking, “Where are you going?”
“Out.”
Kathleen’s eyes narrowed. “With whom?”
“What do you care?” Whit spat, trying to move past her.
Kat’s hand grazed her shoulder with unexpected gentleness. “Please wait, Vic. Can we talk for a moment?” Blushing slightly, she gestured toward the bed.
Realizing there wasn’t anywhere else for both of them to sit, Whit swallowed hard, both moved and annoyed at Kat’s use of her pet name. She shrugged, hoping it looked unconcerned. “Sure.”
Kat had talked without stopping for almost fifteen minutes—expressing her admiration for Griggs’s gentlemanly ways and explaining how his age put her in mind of early memories of her father. When she tried to justify not rejecting his attraction to her by saying he could well have been her husband, Whit’s fists clenched.
“You don’t have a husband. Only an ex-husband,” she growled.
Kat stiffened. “Yes, I know. Being with Griggs is…familiar. Safe. That’s all I’m trying to say.”
“And I’m not? After all this time?”
“No, I mean—yes, of course you are. I meant…familiar like my world used to be. Before the war, before the Army.” Kathleen’s voice sounded strained, like she was desperate to make her point. “When I knew…or thought I knew…what to expect out of life.”
Whit wasn’t having any of it. “So this fucking around you’re doing is all about nostalgia?”
Kathleen lowered her head, clasping her hands on her lap. “I’m not fucking around, Whit. I’m simply spending some time with someone who gives me a sense of security. Someone who reminds me of when life was simpler.”
“At the cost of your relationship with me? Someone who had planned to be there whether things were simple or not.”
Kathleen looked up with tears in her eyes. “You say that’s true, Whit, but what will we do if we don’t get transferred to the same place? And we’ve never talked about our lives when the war is over. How is this”—she gestured between them—“ever going to work out? What will my parents say when we’re still living together in five or ten years? What would your father’s reaction be?”
Stunned, Whit blinked. Had this all started because Kat was anxious about their upcoming transfers? And could it be true that they’d never talked about the future? Had she taken for granted that Kat knew how she felt, that she would do anything to be with her? To stay with her? Was this Griggs business about Kat going back to a man to make her life easier, or just to ensure she went someplace she wanted to be within the Army system? “You’ve already tried getting married to please your parents,” she said gently, not wanting Kat to feel defensive. “And you shouldn’t worry about our transfers. You’re great recruiting material and I’m in a high need area. The Army will take care of us, and when the war is over, we can figure it out, don’t you think?” she asked, trying to breathe normally as her heart strained to hear the answer.
Kat sniffed against the moisture in her eyes. “Do you?”
Her judgment was still colored by the remains of her anger. Was Kat playing coy or protecting herself? Figuring she didn’t have much to lose, she put it all on the line. “Hell yes, goddamn it. Can’t you tell? Don’t you see that’s why I’m so hurt?” She recalled Kathleen’s accusation during the height of their earlier argument. “This isn’t about me trying to control where you go and who you see. It’s about me trying to make sure we keep it good between us. I love you, Kat. I want us to be together and to stay together. Who knows what the world will be like when this is all over? Maybe so many men will get killed that no one will give two women living together a second thought.”
Kat gaped at her, aghast for a few seconds. “You don’t—” Her voice was a whisper.
Whit cut her off. “No, I don’t really mean that. And that’s not the point anyway. The point is, we can make it work if both of us really want to.” She stared into Kat’s eyes, willing her to agree.
“I want to.” Her voice was subdued, but there was a firmness in the words that made Whit’s heart lift.
She brought Kat’s hand to her lips, letting her breath warm the delicate fingers. “So do I, little Kitty. More than anything. I’m sorry if you didn’t know that.”
“No.” Kat sounded tense. “I should have talked to you instead of letting my doubts run away with me. I do that sometimes. When I’m really afraid or unsure, I clam up. I didn’t mean to hurt the one person I care most about. I’m sorry.”
“What about Griggs? Do you really like him?” Whit was almost whispering, trying not to betray her panic as she waited for her lover’s answer.
Kat had lifted her chin slightly. “Captain Griggs means nothing to me. It won’t really matter to me if I never see him again. But I’ll never be happy without you.”
Those words had been enough, even after her heart had almost broken. They’d fallen into each other’s arms and everything else had been forgotten.
The only thing that diminished her memory of their restored passion was her guilty recollection that she’d stood Rachel Milligan up that night. She’d gone by her office the next day, knowing a phone call wasn’t nearly enough of an apology. When the doctor agreed to see her, she expected anger and accusation. Instead, there were tears in Rachel’s eyes when Whit entered the examining room, a reaction Whit had never seen her close to before, even when she’d lost a patient.
“I’m so sorry, Rachel. I’m such a heel.”
“And I’m being stupid,” Rachel muttered to herself as she blew her nose. “I can’t believe I thought there was a chance for us.”
“I wouldn’t blame you if you never wanted to speak to me again.”
“That would probably be best.” She busied herself tidying the already spotless room. Then she stopped. Her back to Whit, she added, “Unless you’re here to tell me that you’re breaking it off with her.”
“No.” Whit owed her former lover honesty and as gentle a let-down as she could manage. “We’re going to give it another shot.”
There was a pause and Whit could see her taking deep breaths. Finally, she said, “Get out.”
She hadn’t seen Rachel Milligan since, although she had written her a short note, telling her of her transfer to Iowa and wishing her well.
Whit had chosen Fort Des Moines because of the reputation of their medical corps. Kathleen had requested the same placement, and for a while they’d fretted over whether it would happen. At one point, Whit had almost suggested Kathleen talk to her father, wondering if perhaps he could help things go their way. But it had all worked out, including finding their wonderful home, and Whit had relaxed, figuring they’d weathered their bad patch and it would be smooth sailing from here on. Kat’s position over protocol and PR had even included a promotion, and they’d had several exciting sessions of Captain Hartley issuing orders to Lieutenant Whitman. But now Kat was acting like she had when Griggs had first come into the picture—reserved and a bit cool. Why? What was different? What had changed?
She thought back to the last party again. The only new additions were Bett Smythe and Gale Rains, but they were clearly together. Then Boudreaux’s warning echoed in her head, and she remembered the way Kathleen had acted when Rains was over doing yard work. But whenever they engaged in a fantasy featuring individuals from couples they knew, she was always the one who was involved. From that alone, it seemed Kat didn’t see herself in the role of a homewrecker, someone who would sacrifice her own relationship to interfere with a committed twosome. Perhaps she should see how her lover reacted to a fantasy involving herself and Rains. She glanced at her watch, a first-year anniversary gift from Kat. Shit. Time to go in.
* * *
Lieutenant Rains assumed the knock on the doorframe of her motor pool office was one of her people, since Sharon hadn’t called to announce anyone. “Come in,” she said, turning her eyes back to the papers she was signing. Two clicking sounds came from the door and when she looked over, Sophie Lucero took one more picture.
Rains stood and walked toward her. “Sophie, please, I don’t want –”
“I know, Gale, I know. But it doesn’t make any sense to not show the officer in charge of the department the story is about. Couldn’t I use one that doesn’t show much of your face with ‘Lieutenant Rains hard at work,’ or some such caption?”
When the lieutenant hesitated, Sophie reached into her satchel and handed over two 5x7” black-and-white photos of Rains with Lilly on the day of their first visit. In one, taken from the back, they were looking at each other and smiling—Lilly wearing Rains’s hat and Rains’s braid clearly visible. The other was also in profile, taken from the side. Rains was pointing at something, and she and Lilly were both looking with almost identical expressions of interest on their faces. “These are only for you, of course. Although Lilly insisted on having a copy of the one where you are pointing. You photograph very well, Gale. I don’t see why you’re camera-shy.” Rains was staring at the photos, speechless for a moment. Sophie quietly pressed her advantage. “I’ll respect your wishes, of course, but I hope you’ll at least show those two to Bett. I’m sure she’ll think they are darling.”
After a long pause, Rain murmured, “Just the one that doesn’t show my face,” and when Sophie smiled, Rain muttered, “Do all journalists use such dirty tricks?”
Sophie’s expression changed. Clearly offended, she answered, “Believe me, most journalists wouldn’t even ask your permission. I can’t show my boss the one that does show your face or he’ll put that one in. But I’m treating you as a friend, not as a story.”
Rains sighed. “You’re right. I apologize, Sophie. Thank you for honoring my request as best you can. And for these.” She put the photos in a folder. Lowering her voice as they shook hands, she added, “I hope we get to see you and Patrice again soon. And please give Lilly a hug for me.”
Sophie’s smile returned. “I will. Kat and Whit have promised to host a New Year’s party. Perhaps we’ll see you there.” She started out, but paused. “And don’t worry about the article. You have a wonderful staff here. All I’ll have to do is tell the story in their words and you will all look great.”
Rains put the pictures in her desk drawer. She needed more time to examine them, and her feelings, before sharing them with Bett.
* * *
Sophie’s article came out on the following Tuesday. The gist of it was a “worst to first” coverage on how efficiency at the Fort Des Moines WAC motor pool had turned around over the last few months. A statistical graph showed the improvements in various categories, such as turnaround time, cost effectiveness, and repeat repairs. Credit was given to Colonel Issacson first, on her willingness to make a change in an area that was clearly under-functioning, and PFC West was praised for her outstanding organizational skills. Except for a very small photo of Rain staring at the papers on her desk with a serious expression on her face, all of the pictures were of the girls at work in the bays on various vehicles, and one of Helen Tucker climbing into her truck, looking back at the camera with a big smile. The WAC’s mechanic training program was cited as a model for any industry. Quotes from the staff showed their pride and dedication, and one unnamed private credited Lieutenant Rains with being “the kind of person who changes lives—for the better.” Indeed, running through each paragraph was the thread of Rains’s leadership, ways her genuine compassion for her staff had inspired their loyalty and willingness to go the extra mile, and how her “slightly unorthodox approaches” only enhanced her ability to get the most from each individual while maintaining group camaraderie.
The Des Moines Register story was picked up by the wire service and reprinted in hundreds of newspapers across the country. Bett bought ten copies of the Register and was busily cutting out the story to send to her mother and several of her best friends when Rain came home that night with a scowl on her face. She pointed at the pile of papers. “Those need to go in the fire”—she waved a folder—“along with these.”
“Rain, whatever is the matter?” Bett asked in genuine confusion. She was certain Rain would want copies of the article for her family also. “This is a wonderful story. You should be proud.”
“I am not proud. This kind of bragging is not the Sioux way.” Rain was pacing angrily and slapping the folder against her leg.
“This is not bragging. It’s all true.” Bett stood, waiting for Rain to slow down so she could get a chance to hold her and explain. “The article simply shows you have a group of very dedicated and capable women who enjoy their work and enjoy working with you. Why is that a problem?”
“I didn’t worry, because Colonel Issacson said the story was good. I can see I was mistaken to trust her or Sophie on this matter.” Rain was clearly so unhappy that Bett decided to let her pace some more before trying any contact. It was quite unlike her to criticize Issacson about anything or to speak ill of someone she considered a friend.
“How are the girls in your department taking it?” Bett asked finally.
“Oh, fine. They are happy to have their names or their pictures in the paper. I believe Helen Tucker and Teresa Owens have bought every paper on the base. They don’t see…” Rain finally stopped pacing. She was facing away from Bett, looking at the floor. Bett came up behind her and gently put her hands on Rain’s shoulders.
“They see what the rest of your people see—a fine officer who deserves credit for making their time in the motor pool a wonderful experience. They see their leader genuinely cares about them being recognized for doing the right thing in the right way, and they are happy about it.” She slipped her arms around Rain’s waist and laid her cheek on Rain’s back. “You’ve said before that you appreciate my counsel. Can you hear me now?”
Somehow Bett had learned to phrase her speech in a way that sounded almost Lakota at times. Rain suspected it was partly Bett’s linguistic training that made her understand how to put words together so they would sound familiar to Rain, but it never failed to make her pause and listen. She nodded.
“You know Colonel Issacson would never allow words that would damage you, and you don’t believe Sophie would write with such intent, do you? You are not comfortable within yourself with what you have read, but you are not taking into account the motivation of those who have produced and approved this story or about the good it may do. Imagine how many people will be impressed with how well the WAC motor pool is doing and how the reputation of our service will improve. Think of young women who may see a place for themselves here when they read these words. You see this as being about you because you are too close. Step back, Beloved, and see you are only a small part of this bigger picture.”
Bett had felt Rain’s body relaxing as she listened, but at the word “picture,” Rain stiffened again.
“What?” Bett asked. Rain turned and handed her the folder without a word. Bett’s expression of delight at the photos of her and Lilly made her heart soften a little. “Oh, Rain. These are wonderful! Look at the two of you! We must have them framed and put them in your roo—” Rain was shaking her head. “What? What could possibly be wrong with these pictures? I know you care for Lilly. It shows all over your face. And obviously she is enamored of you. Don’t you like seeing the two of you together?”
“I would never see us like this. I would only see Lilly.” Rain objected. “This is us through someone else’s eyes.”
“Well, of course, but it’s through the eyes of Sophie, who loves her daughter and appreciates that the two of you are quite smitten with each other. These photos show that.”
“Yes, but now that time is stopped, is still.” Rain wanted Bett to understand. “In my head before was the whole living experience. The weight of Lilly on my hip, the smell of her soap, the scratchy feel of her dress, the sound of her voice…all were real and present. We walked around the bays, she held different tools, talked to the girls for maybe ten or fifteen minutes. When I see these pictures, that time is reduced to only these two seconds, with images flat and dead.”
“I understand a photograph cannot match your full memory of the event, Rain, but don’t you like having it to remind you of that time?” Bett tried. “To help you call Lilly’s visit to mind?”
Rain shook her head again. “I don’t need this kind of reminder for what is important to me. I will remember by being in that place or by hearing Lilly’s voice in my head.”
“But what if you move away from that place one day? What about when Lilly is older and her voice is different? Wouldn’t you like having these photographs of that moment in that place when time has passed and things have changed?”
Rain sighed, pushing aside the memory of another little girl, Daisy, who would never grow any older or be any different from the last time she had seen her. She focused on Bett, who was clearly waiting for an answer. She wanted to let Bett know she respected her point of view, even if she didn’t agree with it. And she hoped for the same in return. Rain took her lover’s hand and led her to the couch where they sat. Bett held on to the folder with her other hand.
“I remember how much I enjoyed seeing those childhood photographs of you during the first week I was here. But what I really liked was the idea of you I got from seeing them…trying to imagine what was happening around you when they were taken, and especially to sense who you were and what you were feeling at the time. It was not the photographs themselves I actually liked. Then and now, I cherish hearing your stories and imagining you at different times of your life, and that can happen without pictures. In some ways, pictures might even interfere with my knowing your past, because they are limited, or even deceptive. Maybe you are pictured smiling, but when you remember the day, you might tell me you were sad. Or you are at the beach, but that part of the picture means nothing to me because I have never been to the ocean and I don’t know the sounds and the smells there. Then do you need a picture to tell me the story of the ocean? Does the still photograph of the water help you to describe for me the sea breeze and the salt and the sand with your words?”
Rain leaned in and kissed Bett gently but with great emotion. “Would a picture help you to remember that? If we were older or in a different place?” Bett shook her head. Rain kissed her again. Not to make the point or for a reward but because it felt so good. Their bodies were closer, and Bett let the folder drop to the ground so she could take off Rain’s jacket.
Rain was about to decide the discussion was over when Bett said, “Would you please let me keep those pictures of you anyway? If you feel strongly about it, I won’t, but I would really like to have them.” Somehow Bett had gotten on top of her, and Rain’s feelings about the photos and the story seemed very small and far away.
“Not framed or hanging anywhere,” she managed to say, feeling Bett’s hands undoing her shirt. “Just for you.”
“Just for me is exactly the way I want everything with you,” Bett answered firmly, refusing to revisit her vague worries about Kathleen Hartley. “And don’t you ever think otherwise.”
* * *
When the phone began ringing on Friday morning, Bett groaned. In her pre-Army life, she would have turned over and ignored it, confident no friend of hers would be calling at such a ridiculous hour, as they would barely have gotten in from a night of partying. Blinking the sleep from her eyes, she recalled last week’s directive that in order to be eligible for her next promotion, all staff had to demonstrate they were immediately available to the cryptography department at all times. This might be a test. “How times have changed,” she muttered to herself, grabbing her robe and hurrying into the kitchen. Over the persistent ringing, she heard the shower turn off and a vision of Rain’s warm, wet body made her grumpy feelings fade. Some of the changes were really good.
A young man’s voice was on the other end, his tone indicating surprise at her hello. “Oh, hi. I was given this number by a lady in the Women’s Army Corps motor pool. I saw a story in the paper and I believe that small picture is my sister. I’m trying to reach her.”
It took Bett a second to work through it. She knew Rain’s older brother Thomas fighting overseas. This could only be Rain’s younger brother. “Is this Nikki?” she asked excitedly.
“Yes. Who is this?” Nikki didn’t sound suspicious, only curious.
“Nikki, my name is Bett Smythe. Your sister lives with me.”
“With you?” Now he sounded genuinely confused. “I thought she was in the army.”
“Oh yes, she is. We both are. We just live together off-base.”
Now there was a pause. “Are you sure we are talking about the same person?” Nikki asked finally. “A tall Indian girl?”
Bett had to laugh. “Yes, Nikki. It is the same person, your sister, Wind and Rain,” she said, using the English translation of what her lover was called in Lakota. “And I know she’ll be very, very happy to talk to you. Can you hold for just a second while I get her? You can tell the operator to reverse the charges.” She didn’t wait for an answer, just sprinted back toward the bathroom.