Boots gave Hildie a hard push. “Next time he asks, say yes.”
Next time he asked, Hildie thought up another lame excuse to say no. “I have to study for the state board exam.” She wanted to keep a distance rather than let herself hope.
The day after she received the good news that she’d passed and now qualified as a registered nurse, Trip showed up on the medical ward with a bouquet of daisies he’d probably bought from the hospital gift shop. “Congratulations!”
She took the bouquet and set it on the nurses’ station counter. “How did you know?”
“Boots told me. You aren’t on shift tonight and you don’t have to study. Let me take you out so we can celebrate.” He said it loudly enough for three nurses to overhear, even if they hadn’t been eavesdropping. Hildemara blushed and stepped away from the others, moving farther down the hall.
“I don’t think that’s a good idea.”
He frowned. “Did I do something to offend you?”
“No.”
“Why do you keep saying no, Hildemara?”
“Mr. Arundel!” Jones beckoned him down the hall. They spoke in low voices. Without looking at her, Trip strode down the hall and disappeared through the swinging doors. Feeling a lump growing in her throat, Hildie went to check on her patients. When she came back to the nurses’ station, Jones looked up at her. “You’re fighting a losing battle, Hildemara.”
Trip showed up in the cafeteria a few days later. Hildemara grabbed her tray and retreated to a table behind a potted palm. Trip gave his order, waited for it, and crossed the room. He set his tray on the table, but didn’t sit. “Boots said you probably wouldn’t trust me unless I had references. So…” He reached into his pocket, took out three envelopes, and slid them across the table. “Just so you’ll know I’m not the wolf waiting to devour Little Red Riding Hood.” He took his tray and left.
Annoyed, she tore open the envelopes. One letter came from Trip’s pastor claiming Trip was a morally upright young man who attended church every Sunday. Another came from the head nurse of the psych ward, far more serious in tone, commending Mr. Arundel for hard work, intelligence, and compassion. The third was in the form of a petition:
Cheeks flaming, she folded the letters and stuffed them into her uniform pocket. She tried to eat her lunch, but felt the amused glances of several whose names were on the list. Trip sat alone across the room. He ate quickly, dumped his garbage, and came back to her table. Sliding a chair out, he turned it around and straddled it. Folding his arms on the back, he looked at her. “We had a great time, didn’t we? Or was I deluding myself? I have been working on the psych ward, after all.”
“Trip…”
“You know, it would be easier to marry you first and then ask you out.”
“Don’t make fun of me, please.”
“I saw you before you ever saw me, Hildie. You were praying with one of your patients. I thought you were the prettiest girl I’d ever seen. I asked around about you. I liked what people had to say.”
“You asked about me?”
He grimaced in apology. “Boots has a reputation. I wanted to know if her roommate plays the field like she does. I wanted to know a little more about you before I made a move.” He smiled slightly. “I think you feel something for me or you wouldn’t be running so scared. I’d like to spend more time with you, get to know you better, have you get to know me.” He rose and turned the chair around. “Your decision.” He pushed the chair under the table. “You tell me no again, and I’ll take it as no.” He gave her a rueful smile, his gaze caressing her face. “I’m praying you say yes.” He walked away.
When she got off work, he was waiting outside the medical ward. She took the stairs instead of the elevator. He kept up with her. “So?”
“Yes.”
He flashed a smile at her. “Good.”
She stopped on the landing. Maybe he wasn’t the Casanova she had first thought, but that didn’t mean that this relationship would come to anything. He might take her out a few more times and realize she was the most boring girl he’d ever met and wonder why he’d bothered in the first place.
He was right: she was scared. She was already halfway to being in love with him. She needed to say something, but couldn’t think of anything that wouldn’t expose her feelings.
Trip stepped closer. He took her hand and wove his fingers through hers. “Don’t worry so much, Hildemara Waltert. We’ll take it one step at a time and see where this takes us.”
And so they did for the next six months, until Mama called and said she needed Hildemara to come home right away. “Your father has cancer.”
33
1940
Cancer meant Papa was dying. Hildie had seen patients wasting away, in pain, dying slowly, relatives coming and going, broken and grieving. Cancer meant there was no hope. Cancer meant a lingering, excruciating death. When had he been diagnosed? What had been done for him? What, if anything, could be done? How long had Mama waited before calling for help? Hildemara couldn’t imagine her asking unless there was no hope at all.
She felt sick and afraid, wondering if she would be up to taking care of her father. How would she bear it? It was hard enough watching a stranger suffer.
And Trip. It meant leaving him, and she loved him so much she ached with it. She hadn’t told him yet. Maybe God had kept her silent for a reason. She had no idea how long she might be gone, and then, when it was all over, what would happen to Mama? A week ago, she and Trip had had a conversation that gave her reason to hope he loved her as much as she loved him. “We can talk about the future when I graduate from UC.”
“How long will that be?”
“Another year, maybe less, if I can squeeze in a few courses over the summer.”
Hildie wanted to tell him two people working together toward a common goal could get there a lot faster than one man on his own. She lost her courage.
Now it didn’t matter. Her father took precedence.
With newspaper headlines and radio reports blaring about the Nazis invading Denmark, Norway, France, Belgium, Luxembourg, and the Netherlands and nurses talking about possible military service, Hildie put in for emergency leave. She packed everything in two suitcases and called Trip to break their Friday night date.
“I had something special planned.”
“I’m sorry, Trip.” She clutched the telephone, trying not to start crying again.
“What’s wrong, Hildie?”
“My father has cancer. I’m going home to take care of him.”
“Home to Murietta? I’m coming over.”
“No, Trip. Please don’t. I can’t allow myself to think about anything but Papa right now. And I-”
“I love you, Hildie.”
She wanted to say she loved him, too, but that didn’t mean she didn’t have to leave. She felt torn between her love for Papa and her love for Trip.
“Stay put. I’ll be there in thirty minutes.”
Panic set in when he hung up. She called the bus station for schedules, called Mama with the time she would arrive in Murietta, raked her fingers through her hair, and wondered if she should call a cab and go before Trip arrived. With no one in the house, she felt vulnerable. She knew she would make a complete fool of herself over him.
