Ethel stood beside Sister Ursula. Two boys about ten years old tossed a baseball. A boy and girl held hands while peering at her quizzically. The children all looked clean and fed, but many of the little girls’ hair looked matted and uncombed. Ethel felt the urge to scoop each one up in her arms.
Instantly, Ethel heard,You have much to offer others.Could this be it? Was it her calling to aid these forgotten children? Ethel had worked at a beauty parlor to pay her way through college. She had not worked as a beautician in many years, but it was a skill she could put to good use now.
“Sister Ursula. I am stationed with my husband near the new Benjamin Franklin Village. Would it be possible for me to volunteer and help with the children?”
Sister Ursula’s blue eyes glowed. “We are always looking for volunteers.”
“Wonderful. I will return tomorrow morning.”
“We look forward to it.” Sister Ursula touched Ethel’s hand in gratitude, and Ethel felt a wave of tranquility pass through her body again. She left the orphanage with such a lightness that it did not dawn on her until she had walked several blocks that she had no idea how to get back home.
CHAPTER 8The Atlantic Ocean, August 1948
OZZIE
Heat pulsed beneath Ozzie’s skin as his upper body flashed into a cold sweat. Another wave of pressure from his stomach traveled up through his esophagus. He reached for his emesis bag and retched out chunks of pink. It was the tomato soup that someone from the mess hall had delivered to him in the infirmary, and in its regurgitated state, it stank.
The metal door creaked open. Ozzie heard footsteps and then felt cool hands on his forehead.
“They’ve got you men crammed in here like pigs in a stall.” She tsked her teeth.
Ozzie looked up and saw Clara Thompson, the nurse he had met on his first day at sea, peering down at him. His breath tasted pungent, so he didn’t open his mouth to speak. The small room had been like a hot pot marinating the funk of the five sick men and their waste, but Clara moved from touching him to the next man, seemingly unbothered by the heat or smell.
After a quick round, she returned to Ozzie. “Brought you someraw ginger. Chew on this awhile, and then I’m going to give you some tea.”
Ozzie had been curled up on the bottom bunk and wanted to sit up straight, but his stomach curdled when he moved. He hated to appear weak and downtrodden in front of a woman he vaguely knew. But when he tried to rise, Clara put her hand on his shoulder and then eased him back onto his stiff pillow.
“My mama used to say a hard head makes a soft behind. Now let me do my work, soldier.”
She stood watch as Ozzie eased the square piece of ginger into his mouth. It tasted spicy and felt like straw between his teeth. The ginger burned the back of his throat when he swallowed, and the taste of it lingered on his tongue and opened his nostrils. Clara passed out raw cubes to the other four men in the tiny infirmary and then poured tin cups of water for each of them. While they chewed, she took away their emesis bags and returned with new ones.
She knelt before Ozzie with a cool cloth and wiped his brows, face, chin, and neck. After taking his temperature, she checked his pulse and then pressed her stethoscope to his chest and listened to his heart.
“Am I still alive?” Ozzie whispered out the side of his mouth, hoping the ginger improved his breath.
“Barely.” She grinned. “But I won’t let you die even if you do suck at tunk.” They had played cards up on the weather deck before he had fallen ill.
“Backgammon is more my game,” Ozzie managed.
“I think what you need is some fresh air.”
“How long have I been down here?”
“Three days, which is long enough. Now chew on that ginger. I worked hard getting it away from the men in the kitchen.”
Clara stood and once again moved from patient to patient, checking vitals. From his bottom cot, Ozzie couldn’t help noticing her hipsmove beneath her wool army skirt. Watching her made him think of Rita, and what he wouldn’t give to have her curled up beside him, making it all better.
“I’ll be back in the morning,” she whispered to Ozzie. “If your emesis bag is empty, I’ll get you up on deck. The air will do the rest; now, keep chewing the ginger.” She pressed a pill in his hand. “Take this in about an hour. It should do the trick.”
Ozzie didn’t remember much after taking the pill Clara gave him because it knocked him out cold. He wasn’t sure how much time passed before he heard the door open, and in breezed a whiff of Clara’s powdery scent.
“Rise and shine, soldiers,” she called.
Clara went through the nurse’s formality of checking each man’s vitals and giving out ginger and tablets of medication. She saved Ozzie for last. With a hand on his forehead, she declared, “Fever is gone. Let’s go get some air.”
Ozzie felt steadier on his feet than he had in days. After a stop in the washroom to freshen up, he followed Clara down the corridor and up the stairs to the main deck. The blast of air felt good as he made his way to a bench where two men from his berth sat with their water canteens. One tipped his hat. Ozzie took a deep inhale of the salty air. The blue sea was wide and expansive and stretched farther than his eyes could take in.
“See what you’ve been missing? It’s breathtaking, isn’t it?” Clara pushed a loose curl from her eye.
