“Bobby got called in that night.”
I thought about it for a minute. “Paul did, too.”
“So, there you go,” said Bev. “It must have been pretty bad if Shore Patrol dragged everyone out of their beds. Plus, I swear, the reason we can’t find the Greers anywhere is because Bill Greer’s about to be court-martialed.”
“You think so?” said Laura.
Bev shrugged. “If he ran a two-hundred-million-dollar submarine aground, then yeah, I definitely think so.”
“It would explain why we’re at the Italian Officers’ Club right now and not their house,” said Rita, and we all acknowledged that this was true.
“I just can’t believe the command went this whole week not saying anything,” I said.
“Eileen,” said Rita, like I was a small child. “Why in the world would they say anything?”
I was about to argue that the Italians deserved to know, when there was a knock on the door and Bev flew across the room to answer it.
It was a new girl named Donna, who was just looking for the bathroom. “Yup, this way,” said Bev as she kicked the ottoman out of the way.
We all stood. “To be continued,” said Bev, but before we could make our escape, Rita asked if we’d hang on a minute.
“Look, girls. I’ve got something to tell you that I’ve been putting off for the last couple of months.”
“Oh my God,” said Bev. “I think I know what this is.”
“Is it already that obvious?” Rita asked.
“You’re pregnant?”
She gave us a crooked smile, then looked directly at Laura. “I didn’t want to make a big announcement after everything you’ve been through. But I’m using rubber bands to keep my pants buttoned, so I figured I had to tell you soon.”
Laura looked physically wounded.
“It was an accident,” said Rita, trying to make it better, and I winced on Laura’s behalf.
“You know they make these things called contraceptives,” said Bev, “which are designed to prevent pregnancy if you don’t, in fact, want to become pregnant.”
Rita laughed a little and then began to cry. “So I hear,” she choked out.
“Come here,” said Bev, and pulled her in for a hug. “It’s going to be okay.”
“I’m going to have four kids under six.”
“You’ll figure it out,” said Bev as she pulled away to get a good look at Rita. “But you really do need to tell J.R. to get snipped after this.”
“That’s going to be the first appointment I make, as soon as we’re stateside. I swear to God.”
I gave Rita a squeeze. “Congratulations,” I said, because what else was there to say?
After that, we couldn’t help it, everyone looked at Laura, who seemed to recognize that it was her turn to say something. She cleared her throat. “It’s such happy news,” she said. “Really.”
“You’re sure you’re okay?” said Rita, and Laura nodded, a little too ferociously, if you asked me.
“Please don’t worry about me,” she whispered, and I could tell she was trying hard not to cry.
God, did I feel for her. “Let’s get you a drink,” I said as I wrapped an arm around her and steered her back into the dining room, where the band was—I kid you not—playing the opening notes of “Be My Baby.”
102.
