For All Their Lives (10 page)

With her dinner on a tray, Casey sat in front of the fire. The soup was too salty, the toast cold. She set it aside and sipped at the coffee as she smoked one cigarette after another. She sat through the news and a game show before she got up to wash the dishes. She took a shower, washed her hair, filed her nails, replenished the fire, finished the coffee, and then got out her tattered list along with the phone book.

The cab driver was right, tomorrow was another day. She'd go to one of the medical registries that hired nurses to work in offices. Maybe she could get a job working in a dentist's office. If tomorrow wasn't more promising than today, she would give serious thought to the cab driver's suggestion about joining the military. He said there was a real need for nurses in Vietnam. Or she could hire a tutor and study like mad and try for the State Boards. She had an ear for the English language, but she didn't have an eye for the words. She knew her limits, knew she couldn't possibly make it by July, which meant she'd have to study all the way through the year and try for the Boards in early February.

Go home. Go back to Paris, an inner voice chided. You're needed there. They'll welcome you. Mrs. Laroux will be delighted. Go.

But did she really want to go back to her old life? If she did that, she'd be admitting failure. There were still so many things to do here. She wanted to find out more about her father and grandmother. She wanted to see California sunshine. She wanted to smell the famous orange blossoms, tour a movie studio, and perhaps actually
see
a real film star. Of course, she'd have to go to Hollywood to do that. She owned a car, and once she learned how to drive, she could visit the whole state if she wanted to. “I can get a job as a shop girl,” she muttered, “and study for the Boards at night.” And waste a whole year of your life? the niggling inner voice replied.

She was angry now, up and stomping about the small living room, her hands clenched into tight fists. It wasn't fair. She'd come here filled with hopes and dreams, and now they were in ashes at her feet. The urge to throw something was so strong that she bit down hard on her lower lip and tasted her own blood. She wiped it with the back of her hand. “Damn!” she exploded.

A nurse's aide. She could do that. But would a hospital hire her in that capacity? She hoped so. And, of course, she would see if she qualified as an office nurse. At least she'd be working in her profession instead of selling hosiery and gloves to housewives.

Her bad moments over, Casey sat down cross-legged in front of the fire and reached for her pad and pencil. She worked steadily for over three hours writing down names, telephone numbers, and addresses. In her father's desk she found a map of the area and a bus schedule. She mapped out her route, frowning over some of the names she had difficulty pronouncing. She felt better now that she had a plan, so much so that she brewed a second pot of coffee. She showered while it perked.

Casey watched a late night show while she worked on a budget. Eventually she dozed and then drifted into a sound, dreamless sleep, and didn't awaken till six-thirty the following morning.

Dirty-gray drizzle greeted her when she left the house to step into a waiting cab, which would take her to the medical center. After that she would test her homemade map and bus schedule.

 

W
HEN SHE ENTERED
a steamy coffee shop at three-thirty, she was drenched. In her life she'd never felt this battered and bruised by her peers. She wasn't wanted. She wasn't needed. She'd put up with rudeness, and she had to bite her tongue so she wouldn't snap back a sassy retort. There was no place for her here, it was that simple. State Boards be damned.

Casey ordered a tuna sandwich that tasted like glue. She pushed the plate away and concentrated on the coffee in front of her. She was startled a moment later when a crisp voice asked, “Would you mind sharing this table? All the others seem to be taken.”

Flustered, Casey looked around and for the first time noticed how full the shop was. She was taking up a table with four chairs. She felt embarrassed when she nodded, a flush creeping into her cheeks.

“I hate to ask, but I'm starving. If I'm intruding . . .”

“Not at all. I didn't realize . . . I've been sitting here . . . I'm just about to leave,” Casey said self-consciously. She raised her eyes then. His smile was so real, so warm, she could only respond in kind. Nicole would call him a heartthrob. She waited a moment to see if her own heart would thump the way Nicole said it would when she met a handsome man. When nothing happened, she almost laughed.

“Mac Carlin, newly arrived in San Francisco.”

“Casey Adams, also newly arrived. And soon to depart.”

“Me too. My orders got snafued. I have two weeks to either cool my heels or kick them up.” He grinned. She had to be the prettiest girl he'd ever seen. He loved her accent. He'd never seen such riveting blue eyes before. They were taking stock of him. He wondered how he was measuring up.

Casey wondered if he was flirting with her. Nicole would have known instantly. “What does that mean, snafued?” she asked.

“SNAFU stands for situation normal, all fouled up. That's the way the army does things sometimes. I'll have the number four,” he said to the waitress, “and a cup of coffee.” He looked back at her. “Where are you soon to depart for?”

What a wonderful smile she had. He likened it to his mother's smile when he was little. It was the kind of smile that wrapped itself around you. The smile reached her eyes, as he knew it would. He felt like clapping his hands. He didn't of course. That would have been childish.

“France. Paris.”

“Ah, Paris in the spring. Is it as beautiful as they say it is?”

“It's very beautiful. I think Paris has a soul. I have lived there all my life.” He was easy to talk to. Surely this couldn't be classified as flirting, not this easy, natural conversation.

“Then you must be on vacation. What do you think of California?”

Casey made a face. “All it does is rain. I don't care for the fog. I think it's . . . impersonal. No one speaks to anyone, everyone is so . . . busy. Actually, I'm not on vacation. I came here to find a job. It appears my services are not needed, so I decided this morning that I will return home.”

After the waitress set down his order, he said, “I agree with your assessment of this city one hundred percent. What is it that you do?” he asked, biting down on his sandwich. A look of panic rushed across his face when he chewed what was in his mouth.

Casey laughed, a sound of pure delight. “If your number four is tuna, I could have given you mine.”

“It tastes like Elmer's glue and wood shavings.”

Casey laughed again. “I believe that's a good assessment. The coffee is fine.”

“Which just goes to prove my theory. A coffee shop should serve coffee. They do that well. As soon as they start messing with food, it goes wrong. I should have ordered cornflakes. Would you like some? Cornflakes with a banana?” Casey nodded.

Mac flagged the waitress. Casey continued to smile while the tired waitress simpered and apologized for the tuna sandwiches.

“What is it you do that you can't find a job?”

“I'm a nurse.”

“And you can't find a job?” Mac asked incredulously. “Wait, wait, wait, I didn't mean that the way it sounded. But hospitals always need nurses, don't they?” He felt stunned at how indignant he felt in this young woman's behalf.

“My credentials are French. They tell me I have to take the American Nursing Boards, which are given in July and February. I cannot . . . I speak English well, but I would need a tutor, and there is no way I can be prepared by July. I don't want to stay until next February and not work at my profession. I have a dual citizenship, but that makes no difference,” Casey said mournfully.

“I never heard of such a ridiculous thing,” Mac said huffily. “You should show them all and join the army. They need nurses.”

Casey's eyebrows shot upward. “How do you know this?” she demanded.

How did he know this? “I don't, not for sure, but it stands to reason. I saw in the
Washington Star
that nurses are in short supply everywhere.”

“You mean Vietnam!”

“Please don't tell me that you're one of those antiwar protestors.”

“I won't tell you that. Were you in Vietnam?”

“No, but that's where I'm headed as soon as my new orders come down.”

“Did you volunteer or are they sending you against your wishes?”

“No. I volunteered,” he replied, as the waitress set down their bowls of cereal. “It's a year's tour, but I've already decided I'll volunteer for a second year. It's the right thing for me to do. I guess it was like that for you when you made the decision to come here from France. I mean, the right thing for you.”

“At the time.”

“You might like working at Walter Reed Hospital. The Washington-Virginia area is quite nice.”
And I might get to see you again sometime.

Under the cover of her eyelashes Casey observed him. He looked tall and strong. Possibly he had been an athlete at one time. She liked the strong look of his hands. A wave of heat surged through her when she wondered what it would feel like to be touched by those hands.

She knew he was staring at her. He had said something to her. Lord, what was it? “Yes, the cornflakes are quite nice,” she stammered.

He laughed deeply. “The banana is a little green, don't you think?”

“Yes, and hard. Bitter too.”

He laughed again, revealing perfectly aligned white teeth. American orthodontia, she decided. She felt self-conscious when she remembered her slightly crooked eye tooth, the one Nicole called “endearing.”

Sadie would approve of this girl, Mac thought. So would Benny. His brow began to knit when he thought of his lacquered, polished, coiffed wife. He pushed her from his thoughts.

She looks nervous, Mac thought. He felt a moment of panic when he realized she was groping in her bag for money to pay her check. She was going to get up and leave, and he'd never see her again. The thought brought an immediate ache to his chest.

Mac reached for the check. “I'm the one who ordered the cornflakes, so I should be the one to pay. Please, I insist,” he said at the doubtful look on her face. “Besides,” he grinned, “it's the American way.”

She was slipping into her coat. In a few minutes she'd be gone. The ache intensified. “Listen, would you like to join me for a drink someplace? A decent place. Perhaps one with a piano bar. We could have dinner too.” He held up both hands, palms toward her. “Look, it will be two people enjoying each other's company. Then on the stroke of midnight, or before, if you wish, you can ride off in your pumpkin. I don't know anyone else here. What do you say?”

If Nicole and Danele were here, they'd subtly kick her under the table and blatantly hiss in her ear, “Go, go, go.
Mon Dieu
, do we need to draw you a picture?”

“That sounds very nice. My evening is free,” Casey said breathlessly. There was such a buzzing in her ears, she felt light-headed, and she thought her shins hurt. She laughed then for no reason.

Mac joined her, not knowing why. He wondered vaguely if what he was about to do came under the heading of unfaithfulness. No, he decided, dinner and conversation were social pastimes. Anyway, at this point, he didn't give a roaring fuck what heading they came under.

Heads turned, Casey noticed, when Mac walked to the register to pay the check. She watched as one girl rolled her eyes and pretended to swoon, while another whistled soundlessly. She felt like whistling herself. American girls called it a wolf whistle, but somehow she'd thought it was the men who were supposed to whistle at girls, not the other way around.

Outside the fog swirled about them. It was late in the afternoon. “Would you like to walk for a while?” Mac asked. “It's not quite so dismal when you're with someone. When we get tired, we'll take a cab to a French restaurant I've heard about called La Folie. What do you say?” He waited anxiously, hardly daring to breathe for fear she'd say no.

“Oh, I'd like that very much. Do you like French food?”

He didn't, but he was going to learn to love it in short order. Still, for some reason he didn't want to lie to this girl. “It's a little rich for my taste, but everyone knows it's the company and the wine that make for a delightful dinner.”

“I think you're right.” Impulsively, Casey linked her arm with Mac's. “Wouldn't you love to catch it?”.

“The fog?” He thought it was the most wonderful thing he'd ever heard. He found himself chuckling. “Shall we try?”

“Absolutely.” Casey laughed as she let loose of his arm and started to chase a tendril of fog. They were children, laughing and giggling as they ran down the street, their arms outstretched. Mac had never done anything so outrageous or silly, especially in uniform. He hadn't laughed like this in years. He suspected Casey Adams hadn't either.

“I give up,” Casey said a long while later.

“Thank God. Ten minutes ago I realized we weren't going to make a fortune catching and bottling this stuff. I hate to admit this, but I'm winded. Let's hail a cab.”

Casey giggled. “I agree.”

Warm and gentle. A sense of humor. Her arm was in his again, her breathing as labored as his own, but there was a smile on her lips. He
liked
this girl with the delightful French accent. Damn, he felt like he was nineteen again.