Betty's head dropped and a soft sigh escaped her lips. "How did you know?" she asked, though she didn't turn around.
Mackie shrugged. "Well, I wasn't sure until right now, but I've been wondering for a couple of weeks. See, when I was fourteen, my mother was pregnant with my little sister. My dad wasn't around much so I sort of took care of her. I remember how tired she was all the time, she'd be hungry even though she'd just eaten, and she didn't always feel so well in the mornings. Same things I've been noticing about you recently."
"Does anyone else know?" Betty asked uncertainly, her voice sounding muffled.
Mackie slowly approached her, reaching a hand out to her shoulder. "If they do, they're not telling me. You've hidden it pretty well. The important question right now is, does Scott know?"
Betty shook her head regretfully as tears came to her eyes. She finally turned to face him. "No, I've only been sure myself for about a week. I didn't want to say anything too soon..." She broke off, embarrassed to be discussing something so private with a man.
"Don't you think, maybe, he ought to know?" Mackie ventured carefully. "And that if he knew, he'd think it was too dangerous for you to go to London?"
"Yes, but, Mackie, I've thought about all that, really I have," she reasserted at his doubtful look. "I'll only be gone for a few weeks and the Germans aren't bombing London anymore. There's no reason to think that I wouldn't be perfectly safe. I have to get there, Mackie, I can't ignore this," she moved towards the door again.
"Betty," he followed close behind, determined to make one last effort to change her mind, "before Scott left, he asked me to take care of you and I promised I would. If he knows I let you go, I'll be in the soup when he gets home."
She turned back around to face him, her hand on the door. "If you don't let me go, I'm afraid he never will come home. I'm not willing to take that chance."
Mackie blinked, put off by the sheer determination in her eyes. Carefully, he appraised her, then nodded slowly, knowing he'd been fighting a losing battle. "All right," he conceded. "I can see I can't talk you out of it. But please be careful, Betty, I don't like to think what this place would be like without you," He smiled warmly, showing her that he may not approve of her decision, but that he would accept it nevertheless as her friend.
"Thank you, Mackie." She reached out to grasp his hand gratefully.
"Don't thank me yet, I'm still not happy about this," he admonished her. "Will you at least let me walk you home?"
"I'd be honored," Betty answered simply as she threaded her arm through his.
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~
Early June, 1942
Betty clasped her hands tightly together to still the slight tremor that moved along them as she looked down at Scott sleeping peacefully in the hospital bed. He'd look so normal, was her disbelieving thought, if only he wasn't so pale.
"Here's a chair, Mrs. Sherwood. You must be exhausted after your trip." The rosy-cheeked nurse scooted a chair over for Betty, who sank gratefully into it with murmured thanks. "I've never been up in a plane before. I can hardly imagine what a thrill it must be," she chattered on cheerfully.
"It was....thrilling," Betty acknowledged doubtfully, recalling the freezing cold air and the hard metal seats in the transport plane that was built for anything but comfort. They'd hit bad weather and the turbulence made her feel as if she'd survived an earthquake of several hours duration. The jarring ride had only upset her already questionable stomach all the more and she'd had to refuse most of the rations that came around a few hours into the flight. The only truly positive part of the trip had been the men she made the journey with. They were friendly and cheerful and tried to make her as comfortable as possible. She'd felt bolstered by their positive attitudes and amused by the bets they'd made on how short the war would be once they were involved. She smiled now, recalling how one of them had reminded her a little of Scott. "I wouldn't recommend a transport plane, though. I'm sure there are more comfortable ways to cross the Atlantic." She smiled briefly up at the young nurse before her gaze was drawn back to Scott.
"I'd settle for it. Just so long as I could see somewhere new. Joe and I - that's my fiancee - we always said we'd travel someday. After all this," she gestured broadly, encompassing the entire hospital ward, "I'll need a change of pace."
"I imagine any change would be a relief. It must have been hard living here for the last couple of years," Betty observed.
"You mean the Blitz?" At Betty's nod, she continued. "The bombings were the worst. I've lost count of how many sleepless nights they caused me. After a while, though, we got quite used to it. My father would joke he couldn't fall asleep without the air raid warning signal blasting away. Now that's over, it's the shortages and rationing that are the hardest. It's not really so bad, though, when I see what these boys have been through. I believe Mr. Churchill will see us through yet."
Betty looked keenly at the nurse, admiring her calm acceptance of her situation and her sense of perspective. "You seem to handle it all very well. I'm sure your patients appreciate seeing you smiling everyday."
"Well now, there's no other way for me to be. I'm here to make them feel better, after all," she smiled kindly at Betty. "There now, I should leave you alone for awhile. He should be waking up soon."
Betty reached up to grasp the nurse's arm. "Before you go, can you tell me what happened? The telegram didn't say anything and I left before a letter could reach me."
"Well, I don't know for sure," the nurse began doubtfully, "but I heard something about your lieutenant here being along the coast somewhere and helping to man an antiaircraft gun. They came under fire from a small group of planes and that was when he was hit. I don't know more, but I'm sure he'll tell you about it." She nodded reassuringly and began to move away. "Oh, and if you need anything, just ask for Anna, that's my name," with a last cheerful smile she disappeared.
Betty leaned forward in her chair and tenderly took Scott's hand in hers, anxious not to awaken him unnecessarily. She felt more at ease than she had in hours. Between the juddering flight and the rocking and bouncing of the bus that had taken her to Charing Cross, she felt more battered and bruised than a prize fighter. The trip in the bus had been unsettling for other reasons, though. She knew the city had been bombed extensively, but seeing the actual destruction was quite a different thing from hearing about it on the radio. She'd even seen a couple of grainy pictures in the newspaper, but that couldn't compare to standing next to a building that had once been someone's home, but was now only a bombed-out shell, or a cinema that had only one wall still upright. Saddest of all were the homes that had been boarded up after being declared uninhabitable by inspectors. These building had become structurally unsound because of the bombing in their area, but still remained standing, looking forlorn and dejected as they awaited the day when their family would return to reclaim them.
The buildings may have disturbed her, but the people she had encountered in her first few hours here amazed her. They seemed to accept the privations of their situation with a minimum of grumbling, taking pride in the sacrifices they made for the war effort. Most of them were like Anna, cheerful in the face of adversity and trusting with an abiding faith in Mr. Churchill to lead the Allies to triumph. Their...what was it Jeff had called it?...indomitable spirit was infectious; Betty was already feeling more hopeful about the Allied cause which was foundering dangerously in the first few months of American involvement. She only hoped she'd handle life in London as well as the natives seemed to.
Betty shifted and stifled a yawn, the time change playing havoc with her body. She'd resolved not to leave Scott's side until he'd awakened, ignoring the gnawing hunger in her stomach and her overwhelming exhaustion. Her need to sleep presented a new set of problems because she had no idea how to go about finding an available room. Perhaps she could ask Anna....
Scott suddenly stirred and a pained expression crossed his face. Betty looked intently down at him, willing him to open his eyes. For a brief moment, he gazed at her blurrily, then his eyes closed and he turned his head away from her.
"I'm sorry, nurse," he muttered vaguely, "for a minute there, you looked just like my wife. She has the most beautiful..." His head shifted back towards her and his eyes opened, looking much more clear this time. "Betty?" he exclaimed in stunned disbelief.
Before she could stop him, he was struggling to sit upright, the blanket falling away to reveal a bandaged left shoulder. He winced as he moved it slightly and tears of relief gathered in Betty's eyes to hear him sounding so normal.
"Scott, maybe you shouldn't...." His right arm was already around her and he was holding her as if he'd never let go. Scott inhaled deeply, luxuriating in her scent after weeks of having nothing to smell but the antiseptic-and-medicine odor of the hospital. His hand smoothed down her back as a muffled sob escaped her and then his lips sought hers hungrily. Suddenly, he pushed her back to arm's length and his gaze turned hard.
"Now what the heck are you doing here?" he demanded.
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~
Betty yawned and stretched, but refused to open her eyes, wanting to hold on to the delicious half-asleep feeling that had eluded her for weeks. She'd slept soundly, the dream never intruding, and she hadn't felt so refreshed by a night of sleep since the war began. For a moment she hugged her pillow to her, content in the knowledge that Scott was somewhere nearby. Slowly she became conscious of other people in the room with her. Nurses slept at the far end of the narrow room in an effort to be as far away from the bustle of the hospital as possible. Betty had selected the cot nearest the door when Anna had shown her to the room, wanting to be easily reachable when Scott awakened again.
Betty sat up, yawning hugely, and swung her legs over the side. She had no idea what time it was or how long she'd slept. From the slant of the sun streaming in the windows, it looked as if the morning was still fairly new.
"So, you're finally awake." Anna appeared at her side and sat down next to her on the cot. She spoke in a hushed whisper, a teasing grin on her face. "You were sleeping like the dead when I checked on you earlier."
Betty rubbed a sleepy hand across her face. "I can't remember when I last slept so well," she admitted.
"If you can sleep like that on these lumpy cots, you must have been exhausted," Anna returned.
"Wait." Some of Anna's words were finally registering in Betty's sleep-fogged mind. "You checked on me earlier? Is Scott awake then?" she asked, belatedly remembering her deal with Anna to be called as soon as Scott awoke.
"Yes, he is now." Betty abruptly stood as Anna spoke, anxious to see Scott. The nurse laid a detaining hand on her arm. "He'll be ready to see you in just a few minutes. The doctor is with him now," she explained.
Betty suddenly clapped a hand over her mouth as the now familiar, but still alarming, wave of nausea washed relentlessly over her. Her distressed eyes sought Anna's and with wordless understanding, the nurse raced to produce a bedpan. She stayed with Betty through the short ordeal, murmuring soothing words, and stroking her back until the moment had passed.
When it was over, Anna made Betty lay back on the bed and brought a cool cloth for her face.
"So that's how it is?" she asked, with a sweet smile. "And would the lieutenant know that he'll soon be a papa?"
Betty smiled weakly, already feeling greatly relaxed. "Not yet. I'll tell him when he gets out of here."
"Well, that's something to look forward to, then. There's precious little good news these days, and that's the best kind there is. Are you ready to get up now?" At Betty's nod, Anna helped her to sit up. "Do you want some breakfast? I really think you ought to have something, even if it's just tea and toast."
"That actually sounds wonderful," Betty admitted as her ravenous hunger began to make itself felt again.
"I'll bring you a tray at Scott's bed; he should be ready to see you by now," Anna escorted Betty to the door of the room. "You remember the way?"
"Yes, and thank you, Anna," Betty looked warmly at the other woman, grateful for her kindness.
"I'm sure you're welcome. I'll see you in a few minutes," she assured Betty before hurrying in the opposite direction.
Betty made her way down the hall, pausing in a lavatory to splash water on her face and brush her teeth. She ran a quick comb through her hair and applied some lipstick, wishing she didn't look quite so pale. She was grateful to see that the smudging under her eyes had eased with the good night's sleep until they were nearly unnoticeable. She felt filthy and longed for a proper bath, but knew she'd have to wait until she found some sort of lodging. With a final tug at her dress, she continued on her way to the hospital ward.
She paused outside the long room, feeling trepidation. Scott would demand a far better explanation than the one she'd tried to offer him last night, and she knew she'd have to lie. It isn't exactly a lie, she reasoned with her conscience, just not the whole truth. He'd been so groggy from the medication last night that he probably wouldn't even remember what she'd said. Anna had assured her that he would be much more lucid today, though, and she wasn't ready to confide in him yet the overwhelming fear that had brought her chasing across the Atlantic after him. He had enough to deal with at this point without her adding to his worries and right now, her mere presence was probably doing enough damage.
Betty squared her shoulders and entered the room, looking confident, but inside wondering wildly how she could believably lie to a consummate liar, a con man who could turn a simple prevarication into high art. Well, she hadn't known him all this time for nothing; she must have learned one or two of his tricks, she hoped desperately.
Cautiously, she approached his bed, seeing that he was dozing. She leaned over him, thinking to kiss his cheek when his right hand suddenly shot out, grabbing her left tightly. He spoke without opening his eyes.
"I thought you were a dream last night," his eyes fluttered open, completely aware now. "I was afraid I'd kissed one of the nurses," his teasing grin flashed briefly. She moved away, intending to sit in the chair that was still pushed nearby. "No, don't," gently, he tugged her down to sit on the edge of the bed.
"How are you feeling?" Betty asked, her free hand caressing his cheek.
"Fine," he moved his left arm experimentally, bringing a wince. "Well, a little sore. It's really just a flesh wound; no permanent damage."
Betty smiled in relief. "I'm so glad to hear that. The telegram didn't say much and I was so worried...."
"That you hopped on the next flight across the Atlantic?"Scott asked wryly.
"Well, not exactly," Betty hedged, her eyes sliding away from his.
"Betty," his hand cupped her chin, raising her eyes back to his. "I know I probably asked you last night, but humor me, I'm on a lot of medication: what are you doing here?"
Betty cleared her throat and met his gaze squarely. "I'm working here. Just for a few weeks," she added quickly when he frowned darkly.
"How exactly did you get a job here?" he asked carefully, giving voice to the first of thousands of questions that had made him uneasy over the last several hours.
"Through Victor. He needed a woman to write a series of articles about life in wartime London. I was qualified, so here I am," she answered brightly, her fingers crossed mentally.
"Victor," Scott said the name as if he was trying to memorize it so he wouldn't forget who he was supposed to kill later. Though he was undeniably glad to see Betty, he was scared for her too. The trip across the ocean was treacherous at best and although the Germans were no longer bombing London regularly, that was no guarantee that they wouldn't start again. He'd almost hoped that seeing her last night had been a dream; he hadn't slept so well since he'd been in the hospital. He gone to sleep last night, her scent lingering sweetly in his nostrils, at peace with the feeling that she was somehow very near. The feeling had been so vivid that he'd asked the doctor first thing if he'd had any visitors the night before. When the doctor looked surprised and told him his wife was here, of course, Scott had scarcely believed him. He was afraid that some other woman may have mistaken him for her husband, but when Anna came by and saw him awake, she'd confirmed his error by saying she was going to bring Betty to him.
He looked at her closely now, half afraid she might simply disappear, the other half angry that she had taken such a risk. Despite his anger, however, he found himself wanting to draw her down beside him, to feel her stretched out against his body, her arms tight around him as he kissed her. He'd missed her too much to feel otherwise, seen too many horrific things to not want something that would remind him so much of home and life before the war.
Resisting this impulse, he focused on his anger, knowing the sort of intimacy he envisioned was impossible here with only a thin cloth partition separating his bed from the next. He looked down at her hand, still in his, saw the wedding ring shining brightly there and knew what he had to do.
"What about WENN?" he asked softly. "Who's writing the scripts for them?"
"Enid," Betty answered promptly, thankful he'd at last broken his long silence. "She's perfectly able to handle the writing while I'm gone. It's only a few weeks, after all," she repeated.
"It isn't even going to be that long," Scott said grimly, dashing her hopes.
"What do you mean?" she asked defensively.
"Betty, I can't let you stay here. London is practically a war zone. When I left, I told you the only thing I wanted was for you to be safe. Crossing the Atlantic was not what I had in mind. Victor can find someone else to do this job, it doesn't have to be you. The doctor says I'll probably be out of here in another three days, when that happens, I'm getting you out on the next transport plane that's leaving for America," he told her firmly.
Betty drew herself up indignantly, anger causing her cheeks to flush. She never responded well to authoritarianism when she felt she had a right to act as she was. "Scott Sherwood, you may not approve, but I have a job to do, and I'm going to do it no matter how long it takes."
"Three days, Betty," he repeated sternly, "then I'm out of the hospital-"
"Oh, now you wouldn't be trying to leave us so soon would you, Lieutenant Sherwood?" Anna asked brightly as she came into the curtained alcove. "The doctor only said he'd reassess you in three days to see if you were ready to be released. Don't jump the gun now. Here you are, Betty, tea and dry toast, the perfect English breakfast," she joked, setting the tray down on the chair next to Scott's bed with a flourish.
Betty smiled up at Anna in relief, grateful that she'd interrupted just in time to stop an all-too public argument. "Thank you, Anna."
"You're welcome. I've got to get back to my rounds now. I'll see you both later," with a cheerful wave she was gone.
"Tea and dry toast? I thought I was the invalid here," Scott observed with a laugh. "You feel all right, don't you?" he asked then, anxiety in his eyes.
"Oh, of course," Betty rushed to reassure him, telling herself that it was the truth...at least for the moment. "I just wasn't very hungry."
"Oh." Scott nodded his head in understanding. "Betty, no matter how long you're here, I don't want to spend it fighting."
"I don't either. Scott, I've missed you so much," she admitted, feeling as if she was melting in the heat of his eyes.
"I know, me too," he said as he slowly drew her towards him. "Truce?"
"Truce," Betty agreed, her eyes slowly closing.
"But you're still going back to Pittsburgh," he added quickly before their lips could meet.
Far From Pittsburgh
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Go to Far From Pittsburgh, Part 8!
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