The Lieutenant's Nurse Read online

  She watched him take a gulp, his eyes widening. “Phew, our buddy here at the bar has a heavy hand.”

  The first sip burned her nostrils and she tried to remain ladylike while her whole mouth puckered. “What is this? It tastes like firewater.”

  “Vodka, ginger brew and lime.”

  He held his i in lime. Not thick enough for Georgia or Mississippi. Maybe the Carolinas. She wanted to get him talking to be sure.

  “So again, how did you learn to speak Japanese?” she asked.

  “I spent some years in Tokyo.”

  “Well, that’s different. Was this through the navy?”

  “Yes, ma’am.”

  She held her nose and took another sip, ignoring his continued use of ma’am.

  “They sent a handful of us boys over to learn Japanese. They figured it couldn’t hurt to be able to communicate. Whether they are our friends or enemies, we need people who know the language. My boss was one of the first there. He has a story about a bunch of Japanese seamen visiting San Francisco, and he and a few guys had the honor of showing them around. It turned out they spoke perfect English, and some of them French, too. But none of the Americans knew a lick of Japanese. A few years down the line, he and another guy were sent off. We went later.”

  We.

  “What was it like?” she said.

  “Hot as the devil in the summer, I’ll tell you that. And Tokyo is crowded. But the mountains are about as beautiful as can be. I stayed in a place called Karuizawa, which is an active volcano. The hills are green and rolling, with waterfalls and views of snowy peaks. I fell in love with it, actually. The people, too. At least some of them.”

  “I’ve never met one,” she said, feeling the alcohol go straight to her head.

  “One what?”

  “A Japanese person.”

  A wide grin spread across his face and he chuckled. “Like I said earlier, the ones I knew were hardworking and orderly and efficient and generous. Once you had their trust, they’d give you the shirt off their own backs. For them, honor was everything.”

  “How long did it take you to learn?”

  “We were lucky. We had the best teacher over there. He didn’t waste time with textbooks, but took us to see American silent films with an interpreter telling us what was going on. He was a genius and within a few months we were conversing. It took a lot longer to learn to read and write. But that was all we did there. Learn.”

  It all sounded so exotic and daring. And he brushed it off as though it was nothing, but she had a hunch that learning Japanese was not as easy as it sounded. Having to learn a whole new set of characters that looked like hieroglyphics. That would be something else.

  She turned toward him. “Say something in Japanese to me.”

  He stared into his glass as though he might not have heard, then said, “Eva-san ga kokoni itekurete ureshiiyo. Motto isshoni sugoshitaina.”

  His voice sounded like it came from deeper in his chest, spouting out pure gibberish. But his look and tone said otherwise. Like he had spoken a sermon, or given a vow. Whatever it was, she was impressed.

  “What does that mean?”

  “What did it sound like it meant?”

  There he went again, challenging her. “Determining a regional accent is a far easier job than understanding Japanese. I have no idea whatsoever.”

  “Most of communication is nonverbal. Did you know that?” he said.

  He had a way of looking directly into her, as though he was trying to get to the bottom of who Eva was. It was disarming. And appealing.

  “I have no idea what you said, but you did sound serious. Perhaps you were telling me some top secret piece of information? Something you shouldn’t be sharing,” she said.

  His eye twinkled. “Very perceptive, Miss Cassidy.”

  An emphasis on the miss. She had better bring up Billy.

  “So, tell me,” she said.

  “I was just commenting on what a beautiful day it was, and our good fortune at sailing on this ship.”

  She laughed, unconvinced. “The day was horrid!”

  “Storms are beautiful in their own way, don’t you think?”

  He had a point. But this particular storm had very bad timing. “They can be. But I am not going to Hawaii for storms.”

  “What are you going for?” he said.

  As far as the army was concerned, she was simply a nurse looking to serve her country, not a woman running from her own life. “My orders are for Tripler Hospital at Pearl Harbor, so I’m going there to work, but of course I hear it’s the loveliest place on earth.”

  “I overheard you saying you’re a nurse.”

  “I am.”

  “What kind of nursing do you do?” he said.

  An odd question, since most people just left it at nurse. “Well, a little of this, and a bit of that.”

  “Sounds mysterious.”

  “I’ve done everything from wiping a baby’s bottom to helping amputate a leg,” she said.

  He squinted at her. “They let a woman do that?”

  Her body went rigid. “You don’t think it’s something women can handle?”

  “I don’t recall actually saying that.”

  “No, but the implication was there. I could hear it in your tone,” she said.

  He tapped his glass to hers. “You’re observant, aren’t you? And I admit, there may be that assumption, but mainly because it’s all I’ve known, not because I think it’s beyond the scope of a woman’s capabilities.”

  By now the effects of the Moscow mule had taken hold, causing an uptick in boldness. “I would like to go on record as saying we are better at handling it.”

  “And why is that?”

  “Because women are natural nurturers. At least most of us are. We know how to put the patient at ease, willing to hold a hand or whisper comforting words. It helps them heal. And that is a step most men are woefully unprepared for. Especially in a tough case.”

  Her father had seen this in her from an early age, and this was partly why he began dragging her with him for visits whenever she wasn’t in school. And sometimes even when she was, he would show up on the steps of the schoolhouse, which was a stone’s throw away from their cabin. She knew the particular knock of his boots against the wooden planks. I need to borrow Evelyn again, he would say.

  Clark looked amused. “I won’t argue with that. Boys out there on the battlefield all shot up, some of them are just crying for their mothers.”

  All Quiet on the Western Front had been ingrained in her mind as a teenage girl. Blood-soaked uniforms, missing limbs, watching friends die. The bitter agony. “It’s not something I hope to ever see.”

  “You and me both,” he said.

  He went quiet for a minute, swirling his mug around and staring at the bottles on the wall. Such a handsome and engaging man. His wife was a fortunate woman. Eva noticed the square angles of his face, and how the dark stubble on his jaw almost seemed to be painted on. She got the strange urge to reach out and touch it, and felt her cheeks heat up.

  “I’m going to guess South Carolina,” she said, shaking off the thought.

  He raised an eyebrow. “Getting warm.”

  “North?”

  “Bingo.”

  The bartender came by. “Care for another cocktail?”

  She realized then that she would be willing to sit there half the night and keep on talking, or even more so, listening. To learn more about world affairs and Hawaii and subjects like nonverbal communication. He knew so much. But she didn’t want to give the wrong impression. Not only that, but one more drink would do her in.

  “That’s it for me. I’m feeling the effects of the day,” she said.

  Clark escorted her toward the staircase leading down to their rooms. Walking side by side, the top of
her head barely reached his chin. The ship still swayed, and every so often, she had to reach out for the wall to keep her balance.

  “It’s been a pleasure,” he said, when it finally came time to part.

  That same fluttery feeling overcame her again. “Thank you for the company, Lieutenant.”

  “Will I see you again?” he asked, looking far more serious than he ought to.

  “This ship is big, but not that big. I think you will.”

  As much as she wanted to see more of him, she got the sense that spending time with Lieutenant Clark would be a risky endeavor, married or not. One she might not walk away from unscathed.

  “Oyasuminasai, Kanojyo,” he said.

  “Excuse me?”

  “Good night, Eva.”

  EAST WIND, RAIN

  From: Tokyo.

  To: Washington.

  19 November 1941 Circular #2353

  Regarding the broadcast of a special message in an emergency.

  In case of emergency (danger of cutting off our diplomatic relations), and the cutting off of international communications, the following warnings will be added in the middle of the daily Japanese-language shortwave news broadcast.

  (1) In case of a Japan-US relations in danger: HIGASHI NO KAZEAME.*

  (2) Japan-USSR relations: KITANOKAZE KUMORI.**

  (3) Japan-British relations: NISHI NO KAZE HARE.***

  This signal will be given in the middle and at the end as a weather forecast and each sentence will be repeated twice. When this is heard, please destroy all code papers, etc. This is as yet to be a completely secret arrangement.

  Forward as urgent intelligence.

  25432

  JD-1: 6875

  (Y) Navy Trans. 11-28-41 (S-TT)

  *East wind, rain.

  **North wind, cloudy.

  ***West wind, clear.

  —A message that was intercepted and decoded from Tokyo to the Japanese embassy in Washington, picked up in Singapore by the British, and transmitted to US Asiatic Fleet HQ, and on to commanders at Fourteenth Naval District (Hawaii) and Sixteenth Naval District.

  WAR CHESS

  November 29

  Negotiations with Japan appear to be terminated to all practical purposes with only the barest possibilities that the Japanese government might come back and offer to continue. Japanese future action unpredictable but hostile action possible at any moment. If hostilities cannot, repeat, not be avoided the United States desires that Japan commit the first overt act.

  —Chief of Naval Operations Harold Stark copies Chief of Staff George Marshall’s message in a cable to his admirals.

  LADY LUCK

  Eva awoke to the painful sounds of retching. A lamp was already lit and she checked her watch. Eight o’clock! A rare occasion of sleeping in. Poor Jo had a brief respite of sleep, and now was beginning her day in a most unfortunate way. Being tucked away in the bowels of the Lurline with no windows did not help matters.

  “I’m going to get you better if it’s the last thing I do. Get dressed, and put on a sweater,” Eva said.

  Jo sighed and shook her head. “I can’t.”

  “You can and you will. Now, sit up.”

  If Jo was surprised at Eva’s bossiness, she didn’t show it. Instead, she lugged herself up, staggered to the bathroom and spit up in the sink. She slammed the door behind her. Eva heard the faucet turn on, and a few minutes later Jo came out with her short hair smoothed down and tamed with a headband. Spiderwebs of red laced her eyes, and her face glistened milky.

  “You need fresh air, to start with,” said Eva.

  “But I can’t—”

  “I will carry the wastebasket for you. Come on,” Eva said, picking up the metal trash bin, as if that would do much good.

  The ship still lurched about, causing the occasional loss of balance. The worst thing was you never knew which direction it was coming from. Jo had managed to slip on a plaid dress and wrap herself in a threadbare gray sweater. She wouldn’t win any fashion awards, but there were plenty more days for that, unlikely as it might be.

  On the way up, Jo had to stop several times to catch her breath, but they made it topside and followed a hallway astern. A handy flyer on the bureau had listed ship terms, and Eva studied it the night before as she tried to fall asleep. A fathom was six feet, while the fo’castle, the seamen’s quarters. And of course port was left, starboard right. Sleep had eventually come, though fitfully and littered with thoughts of Ruby.

  Wind whipped along the decks and rain pelted sideways. Eva found a seat for Jo, handed her the wastebasket and said, “Hang on, I’ll be back soon. In the meantime, watch the horizon and inhale as much of this salt air as you can.” Jo looked shocked but was too weak to object.

  The hallways were still empty, but there were signs of recovery with small groups in the lounge and more tables full in the dining room. Eva scanned for signs of anyone she recognized from last night, but the only familiar faces were those of the football team. The bar was closed, so she flagged down a bellboy and ordered several ginger brews and packets of soda crackers, and took them back to Jo.

  “I knew Hawaii would not be good for me,” Jo said, still green.

  “Drink this.” Eva handed her a bottle.

  Jo obeyed. Leaning her head back against the wall in between sips, she nevertheless managed to get the whole thing down, followed by several soda crackers.

  Eva added, “Once you get there, you can stay ashore all you want. Where are you from anyway?”

  Jo, it turned out, was born in Ohio, lived in North Dakota and worked as a schoolteacher. She had been recruited in the middle of winter. A smart ploy on the part of the recruiters. Who wouldn’t be lured by the promise of year-round summers where you could lounge in a hammock under a palm tree three hundred and fifty days a year?

  “Why did you sign up if you knew it would be bad for you?” Eva asked.

  “Because I was sick to death of being frozen, and our schoolhouse closed down. But at the time I didn’t factor in my temperament. It sounded romantic and warm.”

  Jo looked as though she might retch again, but instead she let out an enormous belch. Eva pretended to look out at the ocean as a few heads turned their way.

  “What’s wrong with your temperament?” Eva said.

  “I have weak nerves.”

  “It would seem to me that picking up and moving halfway across the world requires a certain amount of courage.”

  “I hadn’t much choice,” Jo said, chewing another cracker and looking as though she might cry. “And now I’ll be stuck there because I will not be able to survive another crossing. That is a dreadful fact.”

  “You might surprise yourself. I’ve seen people survive much worse,” Eva said.

  Here she was, taking care of others. It made her feel useful and important and good. If there was anything she knew about herself, it was that she was born to help others. If only she were a little better at helping herself. Eva rounded up a blanket and left Jo on a covered deck chair to soak in the blustery Pacific air.

  The halls were still sparsely filled, but there seemed to now be twice as many people milling about as last night. Most of the passengers would still be reeling in their beds. The breakfast buffet was more elaborate than dinner had been, with plates of strawberries, pineapple and banana with silver bowls of shredded coconut. Tiers of cinnamon buns, pecan snails and twisted doughnuts. Pancakes and waffles and tropical syrup. You could even choose your own omelet, made to order. What happened to plain old steak and eggs?

  There was an extra seat at the football players’ table, and Eva took it. She wasn’t in the mood for any more talk of war or medicine. Each one of the boys had enough food on their plates to each feed an elephant. She surprised herself by being able to eat half a cinnamon bun and a banana, but that was all her stoma
ch would allow in.

  Clark was nowhere to be seen, and as much as she fought it, a small sting of disappointment arose. But what did she really know about the man, other than he was navy and spoke Japanese? And was dashing as all get-out. She couldn’t quite shake him from her mind.

  After eating, she spent the rest of the morning exploring the cavernous ship, getting the lay of the place; she admired colorful South Pacific artwork with native women adorned in flowers holding platters of fruit, rooms with gilded ceilings and full of real-looking fake plants. You could walk for hours and never cross the same path, it seemed. That a thing of such size floated was beyond her ability to comprehend. She finally settled in the library, where several others were posted up in oversize leather chairs, faces hidden by books. Lucky for them.

  While others had attended the elaborate bon voyage parties yesterday, Eva had been tied up in a bookstore picking out medical texts to read on the way over. Instead of reading about Lassie or Philip Marlowe, she would be busy memorizing The American Pocket Medical Dictionary and soaking in the latest journal articles on anesthesia.

  On a nearby shelf, Matson postcards with various oceangoing motifs were stacked high. Eva picked one out with a Pacific islander riding a wave on a long plank. She sat down to write.

  Dear Ruby,

  Today is our second day out and the seas are wild. No one is up and around because of seasickness, but I am miraculously fine. Fate has her reasons, none of which we know. I am sticking to my promise and trying to enjoy myself, but I miss you terribly. There are lots of interesting characters aboard, from football players to doctors, and even a soldier who speaks Japanese, but I still wish you were here. You would love it, especially the fashion! I will write more when the seas settle and I can keep my pen straight.

  Your friend,

  Eva

  PS I hope you are enjoying the candy I left with you.

  That evening, Eva chose her sapphire velvet dress for its warmth, even though it was old and now gaped where it should have hugged. She pinned her hair on the sides with beaded bobby pins. The humid weather was giving it a mind of its own, but she eventually managed to tame the unruliness. Her mother’s only pearl brooch matched nicely, so she stuck that on, too. When all was said and done, she just might be able to fit in. It felt like the Lurline and everyone on it had been immune to the Depression, and hardships had skipped this whole neck of the woods.