loose thread on my bag until the silence felt strange. “Well, there isn’t much to tell.”
“I’m sure there is,” Westry said with a leading smile. “Everyone has a story.”
I shook my head. “I was born in Seattle. I lived there all my life. I got my nursing license, and now I’m here.”
“And there you have it,” he said dramatically. “An entire lifetime in three sentences.”
I felt my cheeks get hot. “Sorry,” I said. “I guess my life isn’t quite as exciting as yours.”
“I think you’re bluffing,” he said, sizing me up with his eyes. “The man you’re engaged to,” he continued, pointing to the ring on my hand, “why didn’t you marry him before you left?”
How dare he ask me such a question? “Because I . . .” My voice trailed off without an answer. I thought of all the practical reasons: I didn’t want to rush things; because Mother wanted a big affair at the Olympic Hotel; because . . . ; and yet, none were satisfactory. If I’d wanted, I could have marched down to City Hall, just like Gerard had suggested, and made it official. I could have become Mrs. Gerard Godfrey without a yearlong odyssey to the South Pacific as a hurdle that stood between us. Why didn’t I?
“See?” Westry continued. “You do have a story.”
“I assure you,” I retorted, “you’ve created drama where there is none.”
Westry winked. “We’ll see.”
Kitty wasn’t in the room when I returned, so when the mess hall bell rang, announcing dinner, I walked out of the barracks alone, making a quick stop in the infirmary to check on Mary, whom I was happy to find sitting up and sipping orange juice through a straw.
“Hi, Anne,” she muttered from her bed. Her voice, still quite weak, had perked up. There was strength in it that hadn’t been there this morning.
“Hi,” I said. “I’m headed to dinner. I was just wondering if I could bring you anything. You must be tiring of the liquid diet.”
“I am,” she replied. “A roll and a few packages of butter would be divine.”
“I’ll take care of it,” I said, smiling.
I walked back out to the path that led to the mess hall, passing the hibiscus bush where Kitty and I had plucked flowers that first night. I kept walking until I could see the recreation dock. A dozen canoes bound by rope tethers bobbed on the water, waiting for off-duty soldiers to take them out to sea. Few did, even though Bora-Bora was a relative safe haven from enemy attack—so far.
I looked closer and spotted two figures climbing out of a canoe. The tousled curls could have belonged to no other but Kitty, but the man helping her onto the dock wasn’t Lance. I gasped when I saw instead the face of Colonel Donahue . She smiled sweetly at him as he stowed the paddles inside the canoe. They walked together, arm in arm, back up to the lawn, where he bid her adieu, and Kitty hurried along the trail back to the women’s barracks.
Should I run after her? I decided not to; after all, she hadn’t told me the truth about her date, and it was most likely because she thought I’d disapprove, and I did . But I couldn’t have her thinking I was spying on her. No, she’d tell me in her own time. Instead, I turned back to the mess hall and spoke to the cook about getting a tray made up for Mary.
“How’s Lance?” Stella coyly asked Kitty at breakfast. Did she see her with the Colonel too?
“Fine,” Kitty said, picking at her scrambled eggs and grits, both the consistency of rubber. “We’re seeing each other tonight.”
Stella shook her head jealously, a gesture that might have put me on the defensive the day we met, but I had come to learn quickly that it was merely Stella’s way. “My, do you have luck with men,” she said, before sighing in defeat. “I’ve given up on Elliot. His head is much too tangled up with that woman from back home. He’s either by himself taking photographs on the beach or holed up in the barracks writing poetry about
“I’m sure there is,” Westry said with a leading smile. “Everyone has a story.”
I shook my head. “I was born in Seattle. I lived there all my life. I got my nursing license, and now I’m here.”
“And there you have it,” he said dramatically. “An entire lifetime in three sentences.”
I felt my cheeks get hot. “Sorry,” I said. “I guess my life isn’t quite as exciting as yours.”
“I think you’re bluffing,” he said, sizing me up with his eyes. “The man you’re engaged to,” he continued, pointing to the ring on my hand, “why didn’t you marry him before you left?”
How dare he ask me such a question? “Because I . . .” My voice trailed off without an answer. I thought of all the practical reasons: I didn’t want to rush things; because Mother wanted a big affair at the Olympic Hotel; because . . . ; and yet, none were satisfactory. If I’d wanted, I could have marched down to City Hall, just like Gerard had suggested, and made it official. I could have become Mrs. Gerard Godfrey without a yearlong odyssey to the South Pacific as a hurdle that stood between us. Why didn’t I?
“See?” Westry continued. “You do have a story.”
“I assure you,” I retorted, “you’ve created drama where there is none.”
Westry winked. “We’ll see.”
Kitty wasn’t in the room when I returned, so when the mess hall bell rang, announcing dinner, I walked out of the barracks alone, making a quick stop in the infirmary to check on Mary, whom I was happy to find sitting up and sipping orange juice through a straw.
“Hi, Anne,” she muttered from her bed. Her voice, still quite weak, had perked up. There was strength in it that hadn’t been there this morning.
“Hi,” I said. “I’m headed to dinner. I was just wondering if I could bring you anything. You must be tiring of the liquid diet.”
“I am,” she replied. “A roll and a few packages of butter would be divine.”
“I’ll take care of it,” I said, smiling.
I walked back out to the path that led to the mess hall, passing the hibiscus bush where Kitty and I had plucked flowers that first night. I kept walking until I could see the recreation dock. A dozen canoes bound by rope tethers bobbed on the water, waiting for off-duty soldiers to take them out to sea. Few did, even though Bora-Bora was a relative safe haven from enemy attack—so far.
I looked closer and spotted two figures climbing out of a canoe. The tousled curls could have belonged to no other but Kitty, but the man helping her onto the dock wasn’t Lance. I gasped when I saw instead the face of Colonel Donahue . She smiled sweetly at him as he stowed the paddles inside the canoe. They walked together, arm in arm, back up to the lawn, where he bid her adieu, and Kitty hurried along the trail back to the women’s barracks.
Should I run after her? I decided not to; after all, she hadn’t told me the truth about her date, and it was most likely because she thought I’d disapprove, and I did . But I couldn’t have her thinking I was spying on her. No, she’d tell me in her own time. Instead, I turned back to the mess hall and spoke to the cook about getting a tray made up for Mary.
“How’s Lance?” Stella coyly asked Kitty at breakfast. Did she see her with the Colonel too?
“Fine,” Kitty said, picking at her scrambled eggs and grits, both the consistency of rubber. “We’re seeing each other tonight.”
Stella shook her head jealously, a gesture that might have put me on the defensive the day we met, but I had come to learn quickly that it was merely Stella’s way. “My, do you have luck with men,” she said, before sighing in defeat. “I’ve given up on Elliot. His head is much too tangled up with that woman from back home. He’s either by himself taking photographs on the beach or holed up in the barracks writing poetry about
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