“Mary?” I whisper. Without thinking, I ask, “Is your son Dean?”
“Yes.” He raises an eyebrow. “How did you know that?”
I stare at him, my mouth half open. It takes a minute for me to realize that Dr. Bentley just asked me a question. Think, Lydia. “I thought I heard one of the soldiers mention a Dean Bentley last night. I took a guess.”
Dr. Bentley smiles and looks a little less curious. “Yes, Dean is an officer stationed here at Camp Hero. He’s part of the reason I volunteer when they need a doctor. Mary’s also here today. She’s downstairs right now nursing a soldier who was knocked out during training.”
Dean. Mary. I fall back against the pillows, staring at the tall, dark-haired man in front of me. Dr. Bentley is my great-great-grandfather.
I close my eyes. Meeting my ancestor has shifted something inside me. I’m no longer disoriented, no longer in shock. I can’t pretend that yesterday was a dream or a nightmare or anything but the truth.
I traveled in time. It’s 1944.
I feel the bed move and I open my eyes to see Dr. Bentley leaning over me. “You look pale,” he says, placing one hand on my forehead, the other against my wrist. “Are you sure—” He’s interrupted by the door opening.
“Hiya, Dad!” A girl with curly, dark red hair bounces into the room. “Nurse Linny says she needs your help.... Is this the girl everyone’s been talking about?”
“Mary, this is Lydia.” Dr. Bentley straightens.
“Lydia!” Mary smiles at me widely. Her teeth are startlingly white against bright red lipstick.
Dr. Bentley looks from me to Mary. “I need to go downstairs to see to a patient. Will you stay with Lydia until I come back?”
Mary skirts her father, skips over to me, and plops down on the bed. I lean back, pulling my nightgown quickly out of the way. “Don’t worry, Daddy. We have so much to talk about.”
Dr. Bentley smiles at her and turns to me. His eyes narrow slightly. “When I get back I’d like to hear that story of yours, Lydia.”
I nod and bite my lower lip.
Dr. Bentley shuts the door behind him as he goes.
Before I have time to start inventing a story, Mary leans in close. She has deep Bentley-green eyes and full, arched eyebrows. Her face is heart-shaped, with high cheekbones and full lips. I stare at her for a minute, startled. She and I have the same hair color, the same high cheekbones. We could be sisters.
“So.” She pats my hand. “Tell me everything. We’re all so curious.”
I start with the truth. “My name’s Lydia …”
“Well, I know that. They’ve been talking about you all morning. Lucas had to tell the story a hundred times—finding the poor, lost-looking girl wandering around Camp Hero in factory clothes and no shoes.”
“Factory clothes?”
“The dungarees, silly. So are you a factory girl?”
“I don’t—”
“Are you some kind of spy? That’s what my brother, Dean, thinks. He says we should interrogate you! That you might be working for the Germans or something. Isn’t that crazy? He’s flipped his wig. You’re only a girl!”
“I’m not a spy,” I gasp, though I guess I shouldn’t be so shocked. In school we read about the four Nazi spies who landed on the beach in Amagansett in 1942. They were carrying explosives and American money and caught the train to New York City before they could be apprehended. Thankfully one of them confessed before they carried out their mission—to destroy key military factories on the East Coast. The remaining spies were executed.
Remembering the real spies sends a cold shiver down my spine. I can’t forget that this is wartime. People are afraid, spies could be anywhere, and I’m a stranger with no proof of my identity who just popped up on a military base wearing bizarre clothes and missing my shoes. I should be grateful they didn’t shoot me on sight.
“Of course Lucas told Dean that’s a crazy theory. He said you were really upset when he found you, and does that sound like how a spy would act? And Dean said ‘Maybe that’s her cover,’ and then Lucas got mad and stormed out.”
I smile, surprised but grateful that Lucas defended me.
“Which is odd, because they never fight. They’ve always been great friends, even though Dean outranks Lucas. He’s a first lieutenant, you know, and Lucas is a sergeant. They met at the base and now Lucas is always around Dean’s house and our house, too. He comes over for dinner at least once a week.” She leans forward again. “So why were you out there all alone in the woods?”
I try to process everything she’s just said. It’s 1944, World War II is happening right now, and I’m talking to my seventeen-year-old great-great-aunt. Somewhere out there, my great-grandfather, Dean, is still alive, and my grandfather is only a little boy.
I press my hand to my forehead.
First I need to come up with a story.
As if on cue, the door opens again to Dr. Bentley.
“I was just finding out all about Lydia, Daddy!” Mary jumps up from the bed. For the first time I notice that she’s wearing a nurse’s uniform: a gray, button-down shirtwaist dress with a red cross stitched on the sleeve.
“No doubt she found out more about you, my dear. Our Mary could talk an ear off a chicken.”
“That doesn’t even make sense.” Mary flips her hair to the side and it floats around her shoulders. It looks soft and romantic, even with her short and tightly curled bangs.
Dr. Bentley chuckles under his breath before sitting in the chair near the bed. “How are you feeling, Lydia?”
“Better.”
“Are you ready to talk now?”
A vague story starts to form in my mind. I press my hands together on top of the blanket as I frantically think of the details.
“Yes, I think so.”
“What’s your full name?” Dr. Bentley pulls a fountain pen from his pocket and picks my chart up
