“I should leave you,” I said. “You need your rest, and probably some breakfast soon.”
“Stay,” he said. “Please? At least for a while longer?”
And so I did.
Unlike my days in the Pacific, where the hot sun and humid air made me feel as though I were moving in slow motion, things seemed to move faster in this part of the world.
Thanks to our proximity to France, we often had multiple flights back and forth each day, unlike in the Pacific where it was rare for any one woman to go out more than once. The whole operation here ran like a well-oiled machine as we loaded up with supplies in England, unloaded them on the other side, picked up our patients, and flew back. Only to do it all over again as soon as the plane was cleared and restocked.
Sometimes we took men with us who were returning to the front, their injuries healed, their spirits restored. Other times it was medical supplies, food and kitchen supplies, weaponry, and ammunition. But today, for the first time in my career, our cargo was neither medical nor human. Today we had livestock. Chickens, rabbits, and ducks.
“Don’t make friends with them,” the navigator warned. “It’ll only make you feel terrible later.”
I wrinkled my nose and then glanced beside me at Theodore and tried not to laugh as he swiped irritatingly at the air, brushing away the feathers and hair circulating through the cabin.
At least once a day I made a point to see William. He was healing slowly, the leg wound having gotten infected and needing to be reopened and cleaned out, a round of penicillin administered to clear anything trying to hold on inside his body. His arm looked good though, and his stomach wound was healing nicely, as I’d seen one day the week before when I’d arrived just as the doctor was finishing up looking it over, the nurse standing by to redress it.
“How does it look?” William had asked me.
“Swell,” I’d said. “You’re nearly ready to go out dancing.”
“Really?” He’d looked down at the wound then and cringed. “Oh. Yuck.” Closing his eyes, he’d rested his head back on the pillow until he was rebandaged.
“You can open your eyes now,” I’d said when the nurse left.
He opened one. “I don’t know how you stand it.”
I shrugged. “I don’t think about the wound so much as the life the wound is hurting. It makes it easier.” I grinned then. “But I also find the human body fascinating.”
“Yuck,” he’d said again, making me laugh.
It was mid-July when he finally was able to step outside without being pushed in a wheelchair.
“Where are you off to?” I asked, having hurried in to see him in-between flights and catching him as he hobbled on a pair of crutches toward the front door, a nurse following close behind.
“I’ve been cleared to get some fresh air,” he said. “I heard there was sun and asked if I could see it.”
“It’s a gorgeous day,” I said, moving to fall into step beside him. “I wish I could stay and enjoy it with you.”
“Maybe on your next day off?”
“It’s a date,” I said, and then felt myself blush. “Or—”
“Can’t take it back,” he teased. “Besides, if we’re to be betrothed, we should probably have a date or two.”
I glanced back at the nurse and she looked from him to me, a crestfallen look on her face. I’d seen her several times over the past weeks, always sitting with a soldier, hooking up an IV, or any number of the dozens of tasks needed to take care of the wounded. She was quiet, efficient, and looked to have a crush on William.
“He proposed in the midst of major blood loss,” I told her.
“Oh,” she said, grinning, her shoulders sagging a little in relief.
“I never propose if I don’t mean it,” William said and I met the nurse’s eyes again with a smirk and a shake of my head.
“Looks like I have to go,” I said, noticing Theodore walking our way, his steps quick. “Enjoy your sunshine! And Claire?” I said to the nurse hurrying to take my spot next to William.
“Yes?” she said.
“Watch out for him. He likes to throw around promises of marriage.”
