“Thanks.” He smiled and gave a small salute as I turned to go.
I was about to open the door to the deck when I heard, “Fiona!”
“Yes?” I said, turning back around to see Joe still standing by his piano. He walked over to me. “What’s his name?” he asked, cocking his head to the side.
“What?” I said. I felt my cheeks turn pink.
“Your guy, the one you didn’t want to talk about. What’s his name? It’s okay, you can tell me. This war’s gone on long enough I can tell . . . I can tell when someone’s lost someone.”
“His name is . . . I . . . his name was . . . is . . .” I never knew how to say it—was he past or present? He’s lost, but is he gone? “Danny. Danny Barker. He’s my fiancé,” I said finally. “He’s a second lieutenant in the air force, in the 338th Bombardment Squadron. He . . . he went missing in October of last year. Somewhere in Germany. I found out in late November.” I let out a deep breath. It was a relief to tell someone about it after keeping it such a tightly held secret all week. It felt good to acknowledge my grief.
“Missing . . . I’m sorry,” he said. “Did you hear any more after that? Do you know—”
“That was all. His parents haven’t heard anything since,” I said. “It’s been hard, the not knowing.”
“I understand,” he said, looking down and kicking at the hardwood floor. “I’ve lost a cousin. And one of my old friends from high school went missing in the South Pacific.” He looked up at me, his eyes sympathetic. I blinked a few times to avoid shedding any tears in front of this man I had just met.
“So, for the first month after I found out, I was in a complete fog,” I said, remembering my mother and sisters dragging me out of bed during that time, forcing me to eat dinner with them. The grief had swallowed me up, and I felt like I would never breathe again without the tightness in my chest, the ache in my heart. “You have to understand. We’d been going together since sophomore year of college. I’m a planner, and I had planned out my entire life with him. Danny had insisted we put our wedding plans on hold because of the war. So when I got the news . . . it almost broke me.
“When I started coming out of that fog and thinking more clearly, I felt restless,” I said. “He’s missing in action, but missing isn’t dead. What the heck happened to him? Is he gone forever? What if he’s hiding out in a village somewhere?
“So, I came up with a new plan. I decided I had to find out what happened to him. And I figured the best way to do that was to get myself to Europe, to the Continent. And for a woman, the Red Cross was one of the only options.”
“So, the real reason you’re going to war is to find your missing fiancé?” he asked, giving me a look I couldn’t decipher.
“Well, yes, that is definitely the main reason,” I said. “I’ve only just admitted it out loud to my friends who are here with me. It’s not something I told anyone about. Don’t get me wrong, I am proud to be in the Red Cross, to get this assignment, but yes, I do want to find answers about him.”
“Even if it’s not the answer you want?” he asked softly.
“Even if it’s not,” I said, the tightness in my chest returning. “I’ve thought about that. It’s this not knowing that’s the worst part. I feel like I’m in a limbo of grieving.”
“It’s impressive,” he said, looking me in the eye with an intensity that made me blush again. “Doing this. I don’t think a lot of girls would.”
“Thanks, but I think most people would say I’m crazy,” I said, giving him a weak smile. “I’m pretty sure my friends think I am. But they know when I’ve made up my mind.”
“It’s not crazy,” he said, shaking his head. “This war is what’s crazy. But what you’re doing, if you have even a slim chance of finding out what happened to him, well, I don’t blame you for trying. It’s brave.”
“I don’t feel particularly brave,” I said with a shrug. “Anyway, I just . . . I’m not here to share my sad story. That’s not why they accepted me for this role.”
“Yes, but then, some of us . . .” He looked down at his feet again, thinking. “Look, nobody in America is getting through this war unscathed. Nobody. You don’t always have to keep quiet about your story when we get over there. This war has gone on long enough, most of us have a sad story or two by now. Sometimes it helps to talk about them. It makes everyone feel less alone.”
“Thanks,” I said.
“It’s true,” he said.
“Well, good night, Joe. I appreciate the talk.” I didn’t know what else to do, so I reached out to shake his hand again. He shook mine and put both palms over it and squeezed it before he let go.
“Me too. Good night, Fiona,” he said. “Good luck.”
I smiled and waved good-bye as the foghorn sounded again. “I’ll keep an eye out for the Twenty-Eighth Infantry when I’m over there, Captain.”
“You do that. And I’ll be sure to look out for the three Clubmobile girls from Boston,” he said.
Chapter Three
July 21, 1944
London, England
According to Viv, I slept on the train during the eight-hour ride from Scotland to Euston Station in London. She said she had drool on her shoulder to prove it. I couldn’t recall sleeping at all. I only remembered being uncomfortable, squished together with Viv, Dottie, and a bunch of other Red Cross girls on the cold, blacked-out troop train all night long. I remember Dottie falling asleep on my shoulder, and I guess I must have fallen asleep on Viv’s.
Our train had just pulled into London. We were marching through the station to the trucks that would take us to a Red Cross dorm for women, where we’d be staying for the duration of our Clubmobile training. The enormous station clock said the local time was 5:00 a.m.
“My stomach is growling,” Dottie whispered as we stood in line. “I’m famished.”
“What about your ‘gourmet’ K rations? The canned cheese product didn’t look delicious?” I asked, not able to hide my sarcasm.
“I only ate the chocolate. I couldn’t stand the look of the rest,” she replied.
Dottie was wearing her helmet and her Red Cross–issued blue wool coat so she didn’t have to carry them. She had her guitar and musette bag over one shoulder and her canteen and gas mask over the other. She looked like she was going to collapse under the weight of it all. We were awkwardly carrying all of our gear, but Dottie’s petite size and her large guitar made it that much worse for her.
“The biscuits weren’t too terrible,” Viv said, letting out a huge yawn. “Happy for the mini pack of Chesterfields included.”
“I almost smoked one hoping it would curb my appetite,” Dottie said. “But I heard they’re terrible for your vocal cords.”
“Dottie, you won’t sing in front of anyone anyway, so what does it matter?” Viv said. “One cigarette’s not going to kill you.”
“You can have my Chesterfields, Viv,” I said.
“Mine too,” Dottie said. “And that’s not true; I sing in front of my students.”
We exited the station through its enormous arches and walked toward the line of waiting army trucks. I inhaled the damp London air, refreshing after the stuffiness of the troop train.
“Hello! Hello! Red Cross, over here, this way!” Right outside the station there was a very tall woman in a Red Cross uniform holding a sign that read, WELCOME RED CROSS GIRLS! She kept calling out to us in a shrill voice, waving us over. There were already a couple dozen women from the ship standing with her.
“Hello, I’m Judith Chambers. I’m the Red Cross field director in charge of your orientation. Welcome.” She gave us a warm smile and held out her hand to me, Viv, and Dottie. Judith Chambers was probably in her late thirties, well over six feet tall with a long face, sparkling blue eyes, and dark-brown, chin-length hair. She was the tallest woman I’d ever met.
“We’re just waiting a few minutes for the rest of the group, and then I’ll take you all to the trucks that will bring you to 103 Park Street in Mayfair,” she said. “That’s where you’ll be staying for your eight days of orientation.”
“Eight days?” Dottie asked, frowning under her helmet as it fell over her face. “I thought we were in London for two weeks.”
“Yes, that was the original plan,” said Miss Chambers. “But the Red Cross executive team, with input from the military, just made the decision to shorten the orientation period to get you girls out into the field as soon as possible. One of the reasons you were selected is because you’re smart and well educated. I’m hoping you’re all fast learners too. Ever operated a doughnut machine or driven a two-ton truck before?”
Nobody said yes. I looked around, and everyone was shaking their heads with facial expressions that ranged from anxious to amused.
Miss Chambers let out a laugh and waved her hand. “Of course you haven’t! There’s nothing to it—you’ll all be fine.”
Dottie raised her eyebrows at me and Viv, not convinced.