On Distant Shores Page 22

  “Oh my. I didn’t think about censorship. I’ll be careful.”

  “Thanks.”

  “Ooh, I know. We can come up with secret codes. This could be fun.”

  He wiped drizzle off his forehead. “Secret codes? Like ‘I wish I had a steak’ means ‘I want to hold you and kiss you until the MPs cart us home’?”

  She glanced up at him from under her eyelashes. “I would love some steak.”

  Hutch drew a deep breath and watched his step on the muddy corduroy road. “Lead me not into temptation.”

  “Oh!” Her foot slipped to the side.

  Hutch grabbed her so she wouldn’t fall in the mud. For half a second he relished the feel of her warm body against his, but he released her.

  The look on her face said she wished he hadn’t let go. “Steak,” she whispered.

  All he could offer was beef extract—the flavor of romance without the substance.

  Two physicians strode out of the receiving tent—Bergie and Chadwick.

  Bergie waved. “Hey, Hutch. Hello there, Georgie. Maxwell said you were here.”

  She smiled at Hutch. “Delivering oranges to our pharmacist for Little Miss Lucia.”

  “Sure appreciate it, Lieutenant.” Hutch tried to keep the adoration out of his eyes.

  She turned to the doctors. “How are things here at the 93rd?”

  Bergie and Chadwick exchanged a laugh.

  Chadwick nodded to Receiving. “A week ago, General Clark ordered a two-week break in the fighting for rest and reinforcement. You wouldn’t know it to see our caseload.”

  “Yep.” Bergie crossed his arms. “Still getting casualties from up at the Winter Line, plus the weather’s taking its toll. Saw our first cases of frostbite from troops up in the mountains, even some trench foot.”

  Treatment of frostbite and trench foot didn’t require many meds, but Hutch would make sure he had a good stock of sulfanilamide powder and lanolin.

  “Say, Hutch, any word on when we’ll get penicillin?” The glint in Bergie’s eyes said he was giving him a chance to impress Chad.

  He’d rather impress Georgie, but he looked at Bergie instead. “We have a limited supply in the theater now, at a few general and station hospitals to the rear.”

  Chadwick huffed. “We deal with the most critical patients. We need it more.”

  Hutch needed to proceed with care. “In theory, that’s true, sir. But in practice, the supply is short, and the Army wants us to stick with sulfa antibiotics. If the patient’s resistant, they’ll give him penicillin.”

  “Sounds like an excellent plan.” Georgie tipped Hutch a smile and handed back his helmet. “Well, gentlemen, I need to find Captain Maxwell. Thank you for loaning me your helmet, Hutch. Wish I could give you a nice big juicy steak to show my gratitude.”

  A chuckle escaped. “Nothing I’d like more.”

  She disappeared into the tent, leaving him hungry.

  Captain Chadwick gazed at the tent entrance, one eyebrow raised. “She’s a honey. Say, Berg, you know if she has a boyfriend?”

  Yes. She did. But Hutch imprisoned the words in his mouth, where they rotted and left a foul taste.

  Bergie whapped Hutch in the arm. “What do you say? You know her.”

  Very well, but he hadn’t told Bergie yet.

  Chadwick narrowed his gaze at Hutch. “Well? Does she have a boyfriend?”

  For the first time in his life, Hutch understood why Isaac in the Bible told Abimelech that Rebekah was not his wife. Because the truth would have cost him. Just as the truth could cost Hutch his goal.

  “No, sir.” His voice sounded choked.

  “Good news.” A smile put actual dimples in his stupid chiseled cheeks. “That’s about to change.”

  “She—she had a boyfriend for years—childhood sweetheart. They just broke up, not even a month ago.”

  Chadwick shrugged off the reasoning as easily as Hutch had. “All I hear is she’s available.”

  Bergie gave Hutch a funny look, probing and curious.

  Hutch saluted. “Excuse me, sirs. I need to get to the mess before my lunch break is over.”

  “You’re dismissed.” Chadwick waved him away. “And Berg, I’ll catch up with you later. I have some flirting to do.”

  The foul taste ate its way down to Hutch’s stomach. He headed for the mess and dug in his pocket for his pillbox. Where was it?

  Must have left it in his other pair of trousers. And he needed bicarb now.

  He marched past the mess and toward his tent. His deception stabbed as sharply as the injustice of the system that forced him to lie. A system that kept him apart from his girlfriend because he wore stripes on his sleeve and she wore bars on her shoulder.

  “Stupid, stinking system.” He kicked a glob of mud.

  He’d lied just to save his own skin. Isaac’s lie put Rebekah in danger. Hutch’s lie didn’t endanger Georgie but put her in Chadwick’s crosshairs. Sure, he trusted her faithfulness, but she shouldn’t have to fend off the doctor. Hutch should have told the truth and protected her. That’s what a real man would do.

  He kicked another glob. “Stupid, stinking me.”

  Three boys burst out of a tent, arms full. Local boys, stealing.

  “Hey, you! Stop! Fermi!” Hutch chased them.

  The boys cried out in Italian and scattered in different directions, off into the woods beside the hospital. Hutch ran after them, into the trees, but the boys disappeared.

  Breathing hard, he returned to the hospital complex. If only the boys had asked. He would have given them whatever they needed. The hospital couldn’t feed all the locals, but Hutch slipped the children some rations occasionally.

  A crowd had formed, most of the men cursing the locals. Hutch weaved through. He barely had time for lunch now.

  The crowd centered around his tent. Hutch worked his way to the entrance.

  “Your quarters?” a medic asked. “Sorry, pal.”

  Sorry? Why?

  Hutch ducked inside—to chaos. The tent he shared with three other men had been ransacked.

  Blankets gone. Easily replaced. What else was missing?

  A void at the foot of his cot.

  Oh no. Not that.

  His stomach worked into a knot no sodium bicarbonate could unwind. He peered under his cot, the other men’s cots, groped in his barracks bag.

  No use. He sank onto his bed.

  It was gone. Stolen. Soon to be sold to some unsuspecting GI.

  His telescope.

  34

  Piana di Caiazzo

  November 26, 1943

  Georgie stood in the aisle of the ward tent, clutching her present under her raincoat, her heart aching with love for Hutch.

  He hadn’t seen her yet. He sat on a camp stool beside a girl with casts enveloping skinny legs up in traction. Together they sang “Twinkle, Twinkle, Little Star” with hand motions.

  Someday Hutch would be a wonderful father, wise and loving and gentle and firm. If only she could have the privilege of sharing the joys of parenthood with him. She shouldn’t think of such things so early in their romance, but how could she help it?

  After the song, Georgie stepped forward. “Hello, Hutch. May I meet your friend?”

  “Geor—Lieutenant Taylor.” He grinned and got to his feet so fast the camp stool fell over. With a sheepish smile, he set up the stool again. “It’s good to see you.”

  “It’s good to see you too.” Nothing was better than looking up, up, up into his smiling face. Unless it was kissing that face.

  “Lieutenant Taylor, I’d like you to meet my friend Lucia. Lucia, vorrei presentarle la mia amica Signorina Giorgiana.”

  Oh, he sounded so romantic speaking Italian. “Hello, Lucia. It’s nice to meet you.” She leaned over and held out her hand to the little girl.

  Lucia’s smile had several charming holes. “It’s-a nice-a to meet you too.”

  “Your English is so good. Hutch told me how fast you’re learning.�
�

  He scooted the stool toward Georgie and motioned for her to sit. “Much faster than I’m learning Italian, but I’m trying.”

  “Sounds fabulous to me.” She unbuttoned her raincoat. “This should help—your Thanksgiving present.”

  He took the book from her. “An Italian-English dictionary. Wow. Where’d you get this?”

  “In Naples.” She sat on the stool.

  “This is swell.” He perched on the cot next to Lucia’s pillow and flipped through the dictionary. “Look, Lucia. Let me show you. Italiano . . . Inglese. Il orso . . . the bear. Grrr.”

  She giggled. “Stelle . . . star-zay.”

  “Stars.” He chomped off the end of the word.

  “Star-zaaaay.”

  They laughed together, and Hutch smiled at Georgie. “She does that just to bug me.”

  Warmth filled her heart. “You don’t look annoyed. You look smitten.”

  “Times two.” A lightning flash of a wink, then he tugged Lucia’s long dark braid. “She can’t read yet, but we’re working on it. When the nurses have quiet moments, they teach her. So do I. She knows her alphabet now.”

  “Alphabet-a.” Lucia lifted herself on her elbows and gave Georgie a bright-eyed smile. “I sing-a for you?”

  “Please do.” She leaned her elbows on her knees.

  “A, B, C, D, E, F, G, ’ow I wonder what you are.” Her big brown eyes twinkle, twinkled.

  Hutch burst out laughing and ruffled her hair. “You little rascal.”

  “She’s a mischievous one, isn’t she?”

  “Maybe teaching her English wasn’t my smartest idea.”

  “A brilliant idea from a brilliant man.”

  “Careful.” His voice lowered, and he glanced around the ward. “People will get the wrong idea.”

  Or they’d get the right idea, which would be a problem. She gave him an understanding nod. “Are you teaching her astronomy too?”

  He winced. “That’d be difficult. Someone stole my telescope.”

  “Oh!” She shut her mouth before a dozen endearments escaped. “Oh dear. You must be so upset. I know what it meant to you.”

  “A whole lot.” He raised a sad smile. “I keep telling myself it’ll help feed a couple of urchins for weeks.”

  Admiration added new facets to her love for him. “Not just brilliant but compassionate.”

  He rolled his eyes and looked at his watch. “It’s getting late. Gotta get back and let Ralph take his lunch. Would you like to walk with me, Lieutenant?”

  “I’d be glad to.” She tried to sound casual.

  After they said good-bye to Lucia, Hutch and Georgie left the ward tent. Georgie flipped up the hood of her raincoat. She had to restrain herself from taking Hutch’s hand. “Lucia’s absolutely adorable. I see why you’re smitten.”

  “Yeah.” He tucked the dictionary inside his field jacket. “I worry about her though. The casts come off in a few weeks. We can’t keep her here forever. The Red Cross will place her in an orphanage in the Naples area. They’ll take good care of her, but after the war . . .”

  “An orphanage. What a shame.” She burrowed her hands in her pockets to keep them somewhat dry.

  “I can’t stand the thought of her growing up like that. After the war she’ll be one of thousands of orphans in this country, and even worse off if she can’t walk well.”

  An idea swirled in her head, but it involved marriage and the future, places she didn’t dare approach yet. “She’s very attached to you.”

  He nodded, and droplets splattered off his helmet. “I’m hoping to . . . I’d like to adopt her.”

  She turned up her face to him, not caring about the rain, only wanting him to know she shared his thinking. “That’s your most brilliant idea ever.”

  A flash of a shy smile. He got the message. “Watch your step. It’s muddy.”

  Georgie wrestled back a laugh. Just like a man to change the subject.

  He nudged her with his elbow. “Thanks for that letter. Why didn’t you tell me in person you saved a man’s life?”

  “I didn’t have time. And I didn’t save his life. General Ridgway did.”

  Hutch faced her. The dictionary in his jacket made him look as if he had a potbelly—kind of cute, actually. “Do you have any more doubts that you made the right decision about flight nursing? That you can be strong and still be incredibly attractive and feminine?”

  “No.” In Hutch’s presence, she felt stronger than Rosie the Riveter and cuter than any pinup girl. “I’m right where the Lord wants me.”

  “I’m glad the Lord and I are on the same side.” He motioned down the pathway. “Come on. I can hear Ralph’s stomach grumbling from here.”

  She followed him into Pharmacy, greeted Ralph, and thanked him for telling her Hutch was with Lucia.

  After he dismissed the tech for lunch, Hutch took off his helmet. A glint entered his eyes. “We’re alone.”

  Her heart flipped around. “We are, aren’t we?”

  He beckoned her with one finger. “Come here. Wait, let me take off my wet jacket.”

  “Me too.” She fumbled with the buttons on her raincoat and suppressed a giggle. If her mother could see her now. Disrobing so she could kiss a man—a man who wasn’t Ward Manville.

  She shrugged the coat off her shoulders and reached out to drape it over the counter, but Hutch threw his arms around her waist and kissed her breathless.

  “Sweetie,” she mumbled against his warm and giving lips. “Let me put down my coat.”

  “Go ahead. Don’t let me stop you.” He nestled his mouth into her neck instead.

  She laughed, feeling woozy, and tossed the coat onto the counter. Her attention and her kisses returned to the man in her arms. The previous summer, if she’d ever let herself imagine what his kisses would be like, she would have imagined something cozy and sweet. Never could she have imagined the delightful passion in this quiet man.

  He settled a kiss on her forehead. “When you said they were letting you fly now, I thought I wouldn’t see you up here again.”

  “Special request.” Georgie straightened his necktie. “Lambert thinks it’s good for me to come up here and orient the patients before their flights. And deep inside she has a romantic heart. She understands I want to see my boyfriend.”

  Hutch’s face drew long. “You told her?”

  “Don’t worry. I didn’t say who. Only Mellie and Kay know it’s you, and they can keep secrets. But everyone can tell I have a new man in my life. Everyone knows I’m in love.” She clapped her hand over her mouth. Oh, why couldn’t she ever keep her mouth shut? She’d ruin everything, talking like that.

  His gaze riveted onto her. The knot on his necktie wobbled.

  Georgie slid her hand over her eyes. “Oh no. Why’d I say that? What must you think of me? The man’s supposed to say that first, and it’s far too early, and—”

  “Georgie.”

  She peeked over her fingers.

  He wrapped his hand around hers and held it to his chest. “I love you.”

  “Sugar, you don’t have to say that to make me feel better. I know it’s too early.”

  He kissed her forehead. “I . . .”

  And her nose. “Love . . .”

  And her lips. “You.”

  She studied the depths of his brown eyes. He wasn’t the kind of man to toss around his affections or his words. “Oh, Hutch.”

  “Someday I hope to hear those words from you.”

  He already had. What a gentleman to pretend he hadn’t. “Why, I do think I’m in love with you, John Hutchinson. Now say my name in Italian again.”

  “You like that, huh?” He leaned close. His lips hovered over hers, and his breath mingled with hers. “Ti amo, Giorgiana.”

  The minuscule distance between them—she couldn’t bear it, and she eliminated it.

  His kisses would be her undoing. Her thoughts whooshed together into a delicious mess. All she could think of was the warmth of h
is body against her, the strength of his arms around her, and the passion of his love flowing through her.

  Someone on the other side of the tent broke into a loud coughing fit, but a canvas divider shielded them from curious eyes.

  Hutch set his hands on her waist and pushed her away. Why? Ralph wouldn’t return for at least fifteen minutes, and who knew when they could be alone together again?

  “Not yet, sweetheart.” She pulled his head down and kissed him.

  He stiffened and stepped back, alarm in his eyes. “Georgie, no.”

  “Sergeant Hutchinson!”

  Georgie spun around.

  A short, middle-aged officer stood by the flap that separated pharmacy from lab. His face reddened. “What is the meaning of this?”

  Oh goodness. What now? Georgie smoothed her hair, mindful that her face was probably flushed.

  Hutch’s shoulders slumped, and he stepped away from Georgie. “Lieutenant Taylor, may I introduce my commanding officer, Lieutenant Kazokov?”

  His commanding officer? She’d gotten him in trouble. And the look in his eyes broke her heart. Frustration. Resignation. Defeat.

  “She’s an officer.” Kazokov marched right up to Hutch. “Fraternizing with an officer? That violates military regulations.”

  “It’s my fault, Lieutenant.” Georgie offered him an apologetic half-smile. “I threw myself at—”

  “Georgie, don’t.” Hutch closed his eyes.

  Kazokov glared at him. “Calling an officer by her first name? Don’t you know anything about military courtesy? Look at me, boy.”

  Hutch obeyed. “I apologize, sir. It won’t happen again.”

  It wouldn’t? Georgie frowned. Would he break up with her over this? Or would the Army force them apart?

  Kazokov clasped his hands behind his back and paced in a circle, giving Georgie a glance as he passed. “To think I actually wrote that letter of recommendation for you. Fraternizing with an officer, and on Army time. I’ll have to write you up.”

  “Please!” Hutch held up one hand, his eyes frantic. “Please don’t write me up, sir. Discipline me. Make me do KP, latrines, midnight guard duty, whatever. But please don’t write me up, sir.”