Promise to Cherish (15 page)

She looked into his eyes, which glistened with unshed tears, and put her hand in his. His grip heated her skin. He helped her stand and step over Floyd’s body. Freddy and Adkins lifted Floyd onto his bed and began cleaning up the floor where he’d lain. The room was otherwise silent and one by one people left. Even Nurse Minton sniffed away her emotions as she walked out.

“Why don’t you get some air,” Eli said to Christine. “I’ll finish up here.”

It was then Christine realized she was not just holding Eli’s hand but gripping it as if it was life-sustaining. She reluctantly released her hand from his.

“Will you come with me? I don’t want to be alone.”

Christine’s heart ached at the sight of the empty church. There were no floral tributes for Floyd, no choral music, but most of all, no loved ones. Indignation toward his family, whom she’d never met, grew inside.

“I can’t believe none of his family came,” she whispered to Millicent.

She shrugged.

“I know you must be shocked,” Adkins leaned toward Christine from the other side of Millicent, “but this is normal. It is rare that a patient’s family actually attends.”

Christine glanced around the church again and found Eli’s eyes. He sat a few pews back with some of the C.O.’s. Their momentary connection took her back to the way her hand warmed inside of his on the day Floyd died. The way he’d tried to comfort her. She swallowed hard but kept her eyes on his. He tilted his head toward her and his eyes smiled. A soft smile formed on her lips and she turned away.

Christine imagined the casket being lowered into the section in the local graveyard reserved for the poor and unclaimed dead. It was awful to think that he’d never have a gravestone to mark his final resting place. She’d known this due to the other deaths they’d had, but this was the first funeral of a patient she’d attended. Like a pebble in her shoe, it needled her heart that so many had gone before Floyd. The priest read scripture, recited the creed, offered a benediction, and prayed. He rose from his knees with some strain and walked down the aisle with the crucifer boy. The funeral was over. Before any of them even stood the county gravediggers were there to gather Floyd.

They closed the casket. The hammer banging against nail and wood made her wince. Before she knew it they were carrying Floyd out past them.

“That’s it?” she said, disappointed.

“I’m sorry, Christine, but what did you expect?” Adkins said.

CHAPTER 12

I
t had been two weeks since Floyd’s death, and Eli found himself discouraged and tired. Their CPS unit director spoke to them as a group, reminding them of the service they provided the hospital and to not let their motivation wane but to keep their eye on God. He reminded them of the verse that encouraged them to finish the course in strength and faith.

After the talk everyone dispersed and he found a card had been slid under his door. He reluctantly picked it up, knowing it was from Matilda.

It was a piece of cream-colored paper folded in half. On the front Matilda had drawn the shape of that fat baby with a bow and arrows, he didn’t remember what people called it. There were red hearts in the corners and Matilda’s pretty handwriting along the edges read:
How fragrant is the red, red rose. How beautiful and true. My darling, on this Valentine’s Day, I’m only thinking of you.

His heart pounded inside. Not for the romance the card was supposed to make him feel, but for the problem he knew he had with Matilda. He sighed as he opened the homemade card.

February 1, 1946

Dear Eli,

Hello to you in the name of our Father in Heaven. Our weather is no better than a typical Delaware winter. No worse either, so I suppose we should be thankful for that. May our thanks to the Lord be ever on our lips.

Happy Valentine’s Day! I hope you get this in time. I plan to make a cherry pie for you on Valentine’s Day and won’t let any of my brothers eat it. I’m going to eat it all myself and while I do, I’ll think of us eating one together when you come home.

I thought you’d like to know that Mark and Sylvia have settled well in your old room. I took some pie (a different one than your cherry pie) and bread over, to help out. I know your mother is working herself sick, with the fire and the four new ones living in the house and her Aunt Annie in the cottage across the field. I know everyone wishes the cottage was empty so Mark and Syl could move in. They need more room with the twins. You’d think Annie would just offer to move somewhere else. Surely she could live with another widow instead of burdening your mother.

I better go. It’s Friday so I have sewing to do. I’m sewing patches over patches on little boy pants. Had to cut up one of my worn-out dresses for patches. Money’s tight right now.

Sincerely yours,

Matilda

Eli’s heart moved between sympathy and frustration. She didn’t seem to understand that they weren’t going steady, which made him feel burdened with the truth. He hadn’t been clear enough before he left for the CPS or in one of his first letters. He would have to tell her before he arrived home—whenever that would be.

Her last paragraph made him wince. His parents had also experienced those same hard times for the years before the war. The farm had been close to foreclosure and he’d gone without many times.

Those years had been painful but Eli pretended they never existed. He became the center of attention with his jokes and humor to fill the space in his stomach where he was hungry. His
mem
had let out the hem of his pants to lengthen them since new ones weren’t an option. Matilda’s family was one of the few who hadn’t been able to get back on their feet after the Depression. Though they had only six children, for them money was a constant struggle.

These memories made him long for home again. The open fields, the way the sun came over the hip-roof of the barn, and the smell of his mother’s food. He wasn’t close with his best friend, Henry, ever since he’d left the CPS for an army enlistment, and all his other friends were married with children. Why had he wasted his youth? Why had he waited so long to see his folly would never make him happy?

“What’s going on?” Eli asked. He’d heard a ruckus in the common room of their building and had come out of his room to investigate.

“We’re leaving,” one of the C.O.’s said and passed him by. “I’m going to go write my wife.”

“Leaving?”

“Our unit is going to be disbanded in April, which means many of us will be going home in a little over a month.” The C.O. looked as if he’d been handed his life back. His eyes bright and mouth wide in a smile. He’d been one of the unfortunate men who had been on CPS duty for nearly four years. “Home. Can you believe it? Home!”

The man patted Eli on the shoulder and moved by him quickly, also heading toward his room.

“Home,” Eli whispered.

In that moment, it was like something nudged inside his chest. Christine. While he hadn’t wanted anything more than to go home for so many months, now he didn’t want to leave Christine. He’d fallen for the wrong girl again. And what about the way he’d lost his temper with Rodney. He hadn’t really changed after all, had he?

February was coming to a close but Christine’s mind constantly replayed the events of New Year’s Eve. Jeanne hadn’t brought it up since their one and only conversation soon after it happened. Jack had not written or tried to contact her since the flowers he’d sent.

In a strange way, Floyd’s death gave Christine some distraction from Jack. But in the weeks that followed her life still wasn’t returning to the
normal
she longed for. The winter seemed endless and March was still ahead of them. The patients had been restless with no outside time, and bouts of illness had plagued the ward. She herself had also gotten ill and, though she’d only vomited a few times, the lingering nausea was bothersome.

She’d also stopped attending church with her parents to avoid her mother’s inquisition, so she offered to work every Sunday. Christine was simply exhausting herself. She lay awake for hours on end. She would teeter-totter between praying and cursing God. Resentment and anger overwhelmed her. But when comfort rested upon her, and briefly brought her out of her misery, she knew it was God.

When she closed her eyes she could feel Jack’s hands on her. Her shame covered her. Humiliation grew just at the memory. Then her stomach would spin in nausea, and she would find herself over a toilet minutes later.

Christine’s face in her small mirror was moist and pallid. Her lips were barely pink and her stomach was swirling inside. She’d been awake since three-thirty that morning and that was only after having restlessly slept for a little more than two hours. How much longer could she go on like this?

She forced herself to rush through her days. Eli was suspicious, however, at her behavior. When his eyes were on her and his smile so comforting, she thought she would nearly burst and tell him everything.

When she worked with her patients, she envied their ability to separate their minds from reality. Their sedation mocked her.
Barbital
.

The medication bottle grew warm and inviting in her hand. It was used to induce sleep, especially if patients were agitated or needed therapy. Would it help her? The thought of this made her breathing hasten. Was she as crazy as the patients she cared for?

For days every time she handed out the medications and organized them neatly, then recorded the dosages in the logbook, she considered how it might help her. Was she even considering this? Stealing? Stealing in order to keep her secret seemed worth it, but the idea of getting caught? Her heart pounded. She couldn’t do that.

Maybe just two or three good nights of sleep would help her past the restlessness and nightmares and she would begin to sleep like normal. Gov had been additionally restless one day. He had no more cigarettes and no one would sell him any. His moods were becoming extreme. Dr. Franklin suggested some barbital for the night, when he usually slept fine. Her heart pounded heavier against her chest. Taking out a few extra pills would go unnoticed. She was sure. They simply fell into her pocket like they didn’t even exist. It seemed almost too easy. The relief over having two pills to rescue her lightened the heaviness
she carried around. The anticipation of a night of restful sleep lifted her spirits.

Once she was in her apartment she immediately pulled the two pills from her apron pocket. Tears burned her eyes when she considered that she was no different from her patients now. Undeterred by that reality, she popped one pill in her mouth. It was bitter. She swallowed it down with a gulp of water and wasn’t sure if she was relieved over it or ashamed of her sin.

For several minutes she lay there. It was about twenty minutes later when the sensation of Jack’s too heavy body on top of her forced her to breathe quickly. Air was trapped in her lungs. Her chest was heavy. The room spun. Fear branded her mind. She saw her mother, her mournful patients, Eli smiling at her, then Jack reaching for her. Her head tingled and cooled. Her eyes drooped. Her mouth went slack. The tension in her neck released and her shoulders rested heavily against the bed. Christine’s hands stopped shaking. Everything went from light to dark.