Mama came out. “You’re up early.”
“I’m leaving this morning.”
“You want something to eat before you go?”
If Hildie had hoped Mama would change her mind, she had her answer. “No, thank you.”
Mama poured herself a cup of coffee. “I’ll get dressed and drive you to the bus station.”
“Bernie’s taking me.”
“Oh.” She sat and let out a long breath. “Well, suit yourself.”
When it was time to leave, Hildemara stood in the back doorway. “Good-bye, Mama.”
“Write.”
As Bernie turned out on the road going by the front of the house, she saw Mama standing on the porch. She lifted her hand. Hildie felt little comfort in the small gesture.
“Sorry, Hildie.” Bernie drove like Mama-fast, confident, head up with eyes straight ahead. “Are you going to be okay?” He gave her a quick glance.
“Right as rain.” Miss Jones had said she would hold her job. As to the rest, she would have to wait and see how much suffering she could bear before she ran.
With Boots gone, Hildie had no place to live. Mrs. Kaufman gave her a place at Farrelly Hall. “You can stay as long as you need, Hildemara.” The sleeping porch was hardly a place to call home, but Hildie felt comfortable there. She would have to ask around and see if anyone needed a roommate.
Jones put her right to work. “We’ve been shorthanded, and it’ll get worse if we go to war. We can’t ignore Hitler forever, and the Army will need nurses.”
Hildie dove into work. She felt useful again. Mama may not need her, but plenty of others did. And she loved her work; she loved her patients; she took extra shifts and worked six days a week.
Boots called from Los Angeles. “What are you doing in Farrelly Hall? I thought you’d be married to Trip by now.”
“I haven’t seen Trip.”
“Are you hiding out on ward duty?”
“It’s been a long time, Boots. I doubt he remembers me.”
“You’re such an idiot.”
Standing at the nurses’ station a couple mornings later, Hildemara heard a thump as someone hit the double doors and swung them open. Her heart jumped when she saw Trip striding down the corridor. He looked mad. She hadn’t even caught a glimpse of him since returning to Merritt two weeks before. She had avoided the cafeteria for fear of running into him. “Hello, Trip. How are you?”
He caught her by the wrist and kept walking. “Excuse us, ladies.” He half dragged her down the hall, opened a linen closet, and pulled her inside.
“Trip, I…”
He kicked the door shut behind him, hugged her to him, and then kissed her. Her nursing cap came askew, dangling by a bobby pin. When he lifted his head, she tried to say something, and he kissed her again, deeper this time. He held her so close she didn’t have to wonder what he was feeling. Her toes curled in her white oxfords. They bumped against a shelf. He drew back. “Sorry.”
Breathless, he looked down at her. He was about to kiss her again when someone tapped on the door. “Careful of the linen in there!” Jones’s rubber soles squeaked down the hall.
“Marry me.”
“Okay.”
His breath came out sharply. “Okay?”
“Yes.” She stepped forward and dug her hands into his hair. “Yes. Please.” She pulled his head down. “Don’t stop.”
He caught her wrists and pulled her hands down. “I hoped to get this welcome in Murietta.” His mouth tipped in a lopsided grin. “You gave me the impression you weren’t coming back at all.” His eyes darkened. “Boots called.”
“I’ll have to thank her.”
“Mama doesn’t need you anymore?” He taunted her gently, putting her cap back on her head, trying to make repairs. Her heart hammered.
“Mama kicked me out.”
“God bless Mama.” He cupped her cheek tenderly, then ran his thumb lightly over her swollen lips. “I’m going to write her a thank-you letter.” He kissed her again, as though he couldn’t help himself.
No tap this time, but a firm rap of hard knuckles. “That’s enough, Mr. Arundel. We have work to do around here.”
Trip opened the door. “Yes, ma’am.”
“Get that cheeky grin off your face and get off my ward.” She looked Hildemara over. “Fix your hair. What? No ring?” She called after Trip. “You do have honorable intentions, don’t you?”
“Yes, ma’am!” Laughing, he hit the door again and disappeared.
Hildie laughed, too, exultant.
Trip wanted to buy a diamond solitaire, but Hildie talked him out of it. “I can’t wear it to work. Fancy rings carry bacteria, and a solitaire would catch on linens when I change beds.” He picked a platinum wedding band lined with tiny diamonds instead. They would have a small church wedding in Oakland right after school let out in June.
Trip took another part-time job washing windows to save money for a house. Hildemara took extra shifts. They hardly saw one another, except when they went to church together every Sunday.
As the weeks passed, Hildie began to feel lethargic. She had chills during the day and bundled into a sweater. She had night sweats. Trip put his hand against her forehead one evening. “You’re hot.”
“I’m probably getting a cold or something.”
Trip took her back to the apartment she shared with a pulmonary ward nurse. He insisted she stop working so hard and take at least two days off a week. She cut back on her hours, but still didn’t seem to feel rested. When Trip took her bowling, Hildie could hardly lift the ball and roll it down the alley. Twice, she dumped it and watched it roll slow motion down the gutter. “Sorry. I’m just too tired tonight.”
“Taking care of your father took a lot out of you, Hildie.” Trip wove his fingers with hers. “You’ve lost more weight since you got back.”
She knew and had been trying to eat more. Her chest ached. She couldn’t seem to get a full breath. Depressed, she took a few days off. Trip came by and opened cans of chicken soup. “No more extra shifts, Hildie. Promise me. You look exhausted.”
“Stop worrying, Trip.”
Jones scowled when she came on ward after a few days’ rest. “Go downstairs right now and see the staff physician.” She picked up the telephone. “Go on, Hildemara. I’m calling him right now and telling him you’re on the way.”
The doctor put his stethoscope against her chest. He reviewed her symptoms. She found it difficult to fill her lungs with air. It hurt to breathe. He thumped her chest and listened again, looking grim. “Pleural effusion.” Fluid on the lungs.
“Pneumonia?”
He wouldn’t answer, and Hildemara felt cold shock race through her body. When he checked her into the hospital and ordered X-rays, she didn’t protest. She couldn’t get Mr. Douglas off her mind, and there had been two other patients she had tended since then who had been transferred out of the medical ward into quarantine.
Trip came in before she could leave orders that she didn’t want visitors. She hadn’t stopped crying since being checked into the hospital. When she saw him, she put out her hand. “Stay away from me.”
“What?”
