Cherry Ames 05 Flight Nurse (14 page)

“You’d hardly know me. I’ve grown another inch and wear my hair a new way. Your mother said I couldn’t use lipstick yet—chiefly because she says I smear on too much—and I guess she’s right. School is still wearing me down. But I keep thinking, ‘Oh, well, I’ll be a nurse yet!’ so I suffer willingly. I wrote to the U.S.

Cadet Nurse Corps at that address you gave me—Box 88, New York—and Box 88 wrote me back a real nice letter. Maybe I’ll win one of those nursing scholarships yet. Box 88, I love you! I am also slightly in love with two boys in my class, but I guess when you love two boys at once, you don’t really love either one. So I will wait a while, because anyway I still have to pass Intermediate Algebra. Lots and lots of love, Midge.”

“P.S. I sent you some simply lush undies. Hope you like them.”

“P.P.S. Do you think it is possible to care for two boys at once? Midge.”

134

C H E R R Y A M E S , F L I G H T N U R S E

Cherry put the letter down with a smile. Tomboy Midge—wanting to use lipstick and worrying about love!

Cherry turned to her own love department—the letter from Lex. Their romance seemed a long time ago to Cherry. But a letter from Lex was still saved to read at the last.

His first sentence puzzled her: “Dear Cherry, This is going to be a difficult letter to write. But I would rather you heard this news from me, not from anyone else. Yet I hardly know how to tell you.” Cherry read on, with a sinking feeling in the pit of her stomach.

“I asked you to marry me on several occasions, but you always put me off, saying you were not yet ready for marriage. Even when I finally persuaded you to accept the ring which was my grandmother’s, you still did not feel you could regard it as an engagement ring. I did understand how you felt, Cherry, believe me.

“During this past year another girl has come into my life. We have fallen in love with each other and by the time this letter reaches you in England, we will be married.”

Cherry slowly put the letter down. She could not see to read through the tears in her eyes. Lex married! She waited a moment, then read Lex’s last few words.

“I don’t flatter myself that this news will hurt you.

You never really cared for me, I know. It was a beautiful friendship, though, and I am grateful for it. Please keep the ring in pleasant memory of your old and devoted friend, Lex.”

Cherry dropped the letter and frankly wept. She let the sobs tear at her, then suddenly thought:

“What am I really crying about? I never loved Lex—

he’s right. I never really wanted to marry him and spend the rest of my life with him.” She sat up very straight and rubbed her eyes hard.

Just the same a terribly forsaken feeling pervaded her.

The pang would not go away.

She scolded herself for feeling this way. Surely she did not begrudge Lex his happiness with another girl.

And yet—and yet—the mingled sweetness and pain left her puzzled.

Ann opened the door, faithfully bringing Cherry some coffee. When she saw Cherry sitting there with an empty, faraway look in her eyes, she put her arm about her.

“Why, sweetie, what’s wrong?” Cherry shrugged. “Maybe just hurt vanity,” she said accurately enough. “Lex—has married another girl.”

“Well, that’s nice,” said Ann. “I know it hurts, but after all, dear, Lex wasn’t for you.”

“Lex wasn’t for me,” Cherry echoed. Ann was generally penetrating and understanding. This time, again, Ann was right. Cherry had never found Lex much fun, 136

C H E R R Y A M E S , F L I G H T N U R S E

though she admired him. Yet the hauntingly sweet ache persisted.

“Drink your coffee,” Ann urged gently.

The hot drink steadied her a bit. Cherry washed her face. But she still felt unhappy.

“I’ll leave you alone,” Ann said tactfully. “I came back to tell you something, but I guess this isn’t the moment.”

“No, do tell me, Ann.”

“Well! Jack just wrote me—in our own private code—that he believes his outfit is coming to England.

He says this time, at long last, we’re going to be married. Even if he has to break all Army regulations to do it!” Ann’s grave blue eyes were glowing.

“Oh, Annie, I’m so glad for you! You and Jack have waited so long.”

Cherry was genuinely glad. Yet after Ann had left, Ann’s happiness in love only made Cherry feel more desolate.

There was a tap on the window. Cherry went and opened it. Grinning in the frosty air was Wade Cooper.

“Merry Christmas! Don’t you want your present?” He impudently leaned through the window and kissed her.

“Oh, that’s not the present,” he said laughing. “Here!” He gave her a billowing white silk scarf. He had had it made especially for her—from a parachute that had once saved his life.

“Why, Wade,” Cherry breathed.

Suddenly life was wonderful again. That forsaken, desolate feeling amazingly evaporated. She leaned out the window and hugged her pilot, to the astonishment of Major Thorne and three corporals who were passing by.

It was not too difficult, after that, for Cherry to write Lex. She assured him she was honestly happy to hear of his happiness—“if you chose her, she must be nice”—thanked him for the ring which she would certainly treasure—and wound up with her very best good wishes to him and his bride. She pounded the stamp on the envelope, and with a light heart, went out to mail it, and to help get things ready for the Christmas party.

But she turned back. Good heavens! She had omitted sending a Christmas greeting to Mrs. Eldredge!

She could still catch the mail corporal who was driving in to the villages. He would deliver it for her. Cherry raced back into the barracks and found a pretty card.

She sat there biting the end of her pen. She wanted this to be a cheerful, hopeful message. Finally she wrote:

“Merry Christmas! I hope this finds you well and having a happy holiday, and
not
worrying! I feel more sure than ever there is really nothing to worry about.

All my best wishes.”

There! She hoped that might help. Now, off to Officers’ Mess hall to get ready for the children’s party.

138

C H E R R Y A M E S , F L I G H T N U R S E

Cherry saw that the long tables in the mess hall had been taken down. A circle of nurses were laughing their heads off. She wiggled her way into the circle. Major Thorne was rehearsing for his role as Santa Claus. Major Thorne was naturally jolly and plump—so plump the nurses did not need to stuff him with the pillow someone had brought.

“I’m well built for the role,” he jested. He beamed benignly in the baggy red suit Flight One had made for him. Then he submitted to having a long white beard, fashioned from cotton and muslin strips, fitted to his several chins.

“Will it fall off if I sneeze?” he asked.

“
Don’t
sneeze, sir!” he was warned.

Not needed here, Cherry wandered off to give a hand with the refreshments. Powdered milk and powdered eggs, with a dash of flavoring and nutmeg, was turning into a fine eggnog. “Skinny little Muriel and those other undernourished little kids can use plenty of that,” Cherry thought. She offered to help, but was told to go inquire about the steak.

“Steak!” Cherry cried incredulously. “Where did you get steak in wartime Britain?” These nurses, too, burst into laughter “See Private Jones in the kitchen,” was all they would say. Mystified, Cherry went into the kitchen and inquired for Private Jones.

A sober youth in uniform advised her how the steak was obtained.

“I was doing guard duty last night. I heard someone moving around in the trees. I shouted ‘Halt! Who goes there?’ No answer. Just more footsteps and stuff. So I challenged again and waited for the password. This person in the bushes says: ‘Moo! Moo!’ Now you know yourself, ma’am, that ‘Moo’ wasn’t the password. So I had to shoot him.”

Cherry collapsed on a flour barrel and laughed till her sides ached.

“You’ll probably get court-martialed for shoot-ing somebody’s cow,” she finally managed to gasp out.

“That cow was trespassing on a military area,” the boy said sternly. “Any self-respecting cow would have learned the password.”

Well, that seemed to take care of refreshments.

Cherry went to see if she could help with the decorations. The girls were just starting.

“Oh, sure,” they said. “We need a good climber to fix up the tree.”

So Cherry stood on a ladder and festooned the fir tree with strings of hard candy, in variegated colors. It looked festive and, besides, small guests always preferred decorations they could eventually pop into small mouths.

Then Cherry sprinkled salts on the pine branches, 140

C H E R R Y A M E S , F L I G H T N U R S E

carefully avoiding the candy. The tree emerged with a crystal-like sparkle.

Little Maggie was earnestly cutting out a Merry Christmas sign from red cardboard. Cherry sprinkled some more of their homemade “snow” on it. Then they put it at the foot of the tree and rigged up two big flash-lights so that their beams played on the sign.

There was mistletoe, too, and colored crepe paper fished from somebody’s trunk. The mess sergeant had had red- and green-iced doughnuts baked. There were flowers, sent from somebody’s hothouse near by. The Red Cross people had lent games for the older children: ping pong, checkers, a book of guessing games.

“Not bad,” the nurses agreed. “Not bad at all.”

“Here’s hoping the youngsters like it!”

“Now our last big job and then we’d better have lunch—”

The last job was wrapping the dozens and dozens of inexpensive little gifts which the nurses, pilots, and corpsmen had chipped in to buy for their small guests.

The girls’ gifts were wrapped in green paper, the boys’

in red. The gifts were pitifully small—a roll of candy, a tiny doll, a toy watch. They were all that could be found in village shops, packages from home, foot lockers, and pockets.

The nurses and pilots, rather than disturb the party decorations, ate their lunch in the lounge, perched on the window sills and sitting on the floor.

Wade, next to Cherry, told her that the corpsmen would be hosts to the children during the first part of the afternoon. Then the nurses and pilots would have their turn.

Cherry went back to the barracks and took a nap until it was time for the party. Most of the flight nurses followed suit. No one had any shame any more in admitting how severely nursing aloft tired them.

Toward the end of her nap, Cherry could have sworn someone was running a feather up and down her chin.

She awoke to find the smallest flight nurse in captivity giggling beside her bed.

“Sleepyhead!”

“Lieutenant Grainger! How did
you
get here? You must have flown over in your C-47! Bring any patients?” Muriel dimpled. “Mrs. Jaynes cycled me over. Merry Christmas! Here.” She brought her hands from behind her back.

The other girls crowded around to see what Muriel had brought Cherry. It was one of Mrs. Eldredge’s curious India cups. Cherry hardly felt she had a right to take it. But Muriel showed such dangerous signs of weeping that Cherry said hastily:

“Thank you very, very much! Whenever I drink out of it, I’ll think ‘Muriel gave me this!’ ” The storm clouds disappeared from the small face.

The child seemed to be waiting for something. She waited not only while Cherry changed into a fresh 142

C H E R R Y A M E S , F L I G H T N U R S E

uniform, but she also kept silent until the last of the Flight Three nurses had departed.

She came over to Cherry, now that they were alone.

“Want to see my father’s Christmas gift to me?”

“I’d love to!” Cherry exclaimed. “But when was your father home?” she asked sharply.

“Mm—” Muriel had to stop and think. “It wasn’t yesterday, nor the day before. Was it last week? Oh, yes, I remember. It was the day Lilac ate the worm.” Cherry said gravely, “Do show me your father’s present.”

Muriel hung back. “He said it is a very special secret present. And he said I have to wear it inside my dress, where no one can see it. Or else the charm won’t work.”

“Yes?”

“It’s a lucky charm. And he said I mustn’t show it to anyone.”

“Then you must not show it to me.” Muriel looked disappointed. “But you’re not just
anyone
. You’re special too, just like this secret. Look!” The little girl fumbled at the collar of her military blouse and drew out a ribbon. On it hung a sort of silver locket or medal. It was rather bent and nicked. A rose was outlined within a chased circle. On the back of the medal was stamped in Gothic script:

“Berlin.”

“What was the name of that song your father taught you?”

“
R
¨
oslein
. All about the lovely rose.” Lovely roses and lovely—spies! Cherry felt a little sick. She tucked the medal back in the child’s blouse.

“You’d better not show this to anyone else, dear, even though it is such a lovely present. To no one at all.” In her excitement she had tensely grasped Muriel by the shoulders.

Muriel, sensitive to Cherry’s troubled feelings, burst out:

“Do you think that my father is bad like the neighbors say?”

Here was the issue, and no evading it was possible.

Muriel looked up at her American aunt anxiously.

Cherry drew the child onto her lap. “I think,” she said slowly and deliberately, “that your father is a good man or he could not have such a lovely little daughter.” She added silently, “And I believe that medal can be explained.”

Maybe she was mad to think that, or sentimental.

At any rate, there was no other attitude she could take with this bewildered little child.

“Don’t show that medal to
anyone
,” she warned Muriel once again. “It’s very pretty, but keep your father’s gift a secret. You promised him, remember. And now, let’s go off to the party and enjoy ourselves!”