values first and almost forgetting what a thing is going to cost.”
“I’ve had a few worries myself over supplies,” he said, and Kitty saw
the furrow deepen between his brows.
“How’s that, Dad?” she asked eagerly, hoping he would open up about
what was on his mind.
“Oh, you have problems enough without being burdened with mine,” he
said.
Kitty ate the last half of her muffin with some orange-blossom honey,
then she sat looking thoughtfully at her father. She had been so
absorbed in her own activities lately she had paid scant heed to his
failing appetite. Now she realized he had eaten very little for several
days.
“Dad, don’t you think you’d better take a tonic or something?” she said
finally. “Your appetite is just about gone.”
He tried to laugh off her anxiety. “Oh, I’ll pick up in a day or so.
I’ve been rather preoccupied with things at the office.”
His admission gave her a start. “Anything wrong?”
“Nothing that can’t be adjusted in time, I hope.”
“You couldn’t tell me about it?”
“No sense in burdening you with my problems. Kitty. You have enough on
your shoulders now.”
“Maybe I could help. Sometimes problems clear up after talking them
over with others. Every time I’ve ever brought my troubles to you they
seem to vanish in thin air.”
“There’re some things a man can’t talk over with anyone, Kitten, when
he’s in the service. He has to keep things from even his own daughter,
whom he’d trust with his very life.”
Kitty was now certain that there was something radically wrong. Was it
possible that it could in any way be connected with the clues she had
picked up in the last few weeks? Willard Dawson, Chief Pharmacist’s
Mate, who had just preceded him, had been involved in some sort of
trouble at the hospital. Was her father becoming involved in the same
sort of complications? The idea that he, also, might be relegated to
some remote base, filled Kitty with terror. The life they were living
here together seemed a paradise when she feared that something tragic
might happen to end it.
After her father had gone to the hospital Kitty couldn’t put him from
her mind. She decided she must do something to lift him out of his
depression. Later when she was in the kitchen helping to fix Billy’s
breakfast plate, she remarked to Jane that she was afraid her father
wasn’t very well.
“Reckon he worried ’bout somepen, Miss Kit?”
“Why? What makes you think that?”
“Las’ night atter us all in bed I hear him pacin’ back an’ fo’th, back
an’ fo’th, like somepen whut’s trapped.”
“Somepen whut’s trapped,” kept ringing in Kitty’s head after she left
the kitchen. This morning she felt like someone who had picked up half
a dozen pieces of a jig-saw puzzle out of which she could make no sense
at all. If she had had any idea of what was back of it all she might
have pieced them together in an orderly pattern.
Later as she gathered fresh nasturtiums from the little flower bed
under the living-room window, the vision of Lieutenant Cary and Chief
Krome playing chess rose up to trouble her. Surely they could have
nothing to do with her father’s anxieties. Yet she could not forget the
mutual antagonism which Cary and Hazel had shown each other instantly,
and she felt instinctively that they were all involved in a strange
chess game which she had to play blindfolded. But she was determined,
if her alertness could prevent it, that her father would never become a
pawn to be sacrificed as Willard Dawson had been.
Suddenly she had a sense of guilt that she had given her father so
little companionship lately. Then she thought of Nurse Dawson, and
something he had said when she first arrived, “We must have her over to
dinner some evening. It means so much to people in the service to go
into real homes.”
“Why not have her over tonight?” she thought. She had an evening free
of Canteen work, and Dad definitely needed cheering up. She hurried to
her desk drawer to study her ration books to see if there were enough
points left for a decent roast. Since Dad had been eating two meals at
home he also had books, which helped out greatly, and with Jane’s books
added she had much more latitude in her buying.
Her father had just reached his office when Kitty got him on the phone.
She made her tone as sprightly as possible when she asked, “Dad, how
about having Hazel over to dinner tonight?”
His voice had an eager quality when he answered, “Oh, fine, Kitten! It
wouldn’t be too much bother?”
------------------------------------------------------------------------
[Illustration: _“How About Asking Hazel Over Tonight?”_]
------------------------------------------------------------------------
“No, indeed! I’ve been wanting to for a long time. And this evening I
haven’t another thing to do. Will you ask her?”
“Maybe you’d better phone her. I won’t have an opportunity to see her
till lunch, and by that time she may have made other plans.”
“O.K., old dear, just as you say.”
“Tell her I’ll call for her at six.”
Kitty thought as she dialed the hospital that her father had let slip
an important point. In mentioning that he wouldn’t see Hazel till noon,
he implied that they must eat together every day. The thought made her
feel very happy.
When Kitty finally got in touch with Hazel and gave her the invitation
she eagerly accepted.
“Is she comin’?” Jane wanted to know as she stood in the doorway,
awaiting the answer.
“She and Dad were as pleased as two kids being invited to a picnic.
We’ll have to give them a swell feed, Jane, and see if this improves
his appetite.”
Kitty dashed off to the market to see what she could get for their
dinner. She did a weekly shopping in Bayport on Saturdays. In order to
save gasoline she tried to manage the rest of the time with what she
could pick up on the island.
It proved to be a busy day for both her and Jane. While the negro girl
was busy in the kitchen, Kitty tried to brighten up the rather shabby
furnishings of their little cottage. She reminded herself that it was
wartime and one must make the best of undesirable living conditions.
They had brought their own silver and linens from their old home on the
Gulf coast, and with these she made the table look very pretty. The
bowl of nasturtiums in the center gave quite a festive air.
“Ain’t no use to worry ’bout de looks, Miss Kit,” Jane consoled her
when she arranged and re-arranged the flowers to get the right effect.
“Us make de grub taste good enough an’ dey won’t think ’bout nothin’
else. Dese ain’t no times to worry ’bout de frills o’ livin’.”
Kitty had often thought that Jane, with a little more education, would
have made a fine philosopher. Certainly she would never die of worrying
over what couldn’t be helped.
Kitty wore sweater suits so constantly she felt really dressed up when
she put on one of her old silk prints and let her hair down from its
tight ringlets to fall in soft auburn curls about her face. It seemed
to belong that way with the flowered print.
Though Kitty had intended cultivating Hazel Dawson’s acquaintance she
had actually been with her only once since her arrival. Then she and
her father and Hazel had eaten lunch together in the hospital
dining-room, where there was little chance for connected conversation.
So Kitty was also glad of this opportunity to develop their friendship.
Hazel couldn’t praise Kitty’s delicious dinner enough, and remarked
several times how wonderful it was to be in a real home.
“It’s nothing like the lovely bungalow we had in New Orleans,” said
Kitty. “Of course we had our own things there. But I’m not complaining.
It’s too wonderful that we can be together in any sort of home now.”
After a while Kitty slipped into the background and listened while her
father and Hazel discussed other places they had worked, and mutual
friends who were now scattered far and wide. The meal was not half over
before Kitty was certain her father had more than a passing interest in
this nurse. His preoccupation of the morning had vanished with the
genial companionship.
“I’m hoping I’ll get a chance at overseas duty again,” said Hazel.
“You wouldn’t want to go till you finish the job you came here to do.”
“Oh, no! No, indeed! I wouldn’t be satisfied to go anywhere till that’s
done.”
Kitty glanced speculatively from one to the other. Their words implied
much. When Hazel looked across the table to find a puzzled expression
on Kitty’s face, she instantly changed the subject.
“Don’t forget, my dear, that you promised to take me on a tour of these
inland waterways.”
“I haven’t forgotten, but there was so much to be done while I was
taking my Canteen course.”
“I’m so interested in this coast country. It’s really beautiful.”
“In a week or so the weather will be getting very mild, then we’ll make
a day of it when you have some time off,” Kitty promised.
After dinner Kitty excused herself to see about Billy, who had eaten
earlier and been put to bed.
As she went down the hall she heard Hazel say to her father, “I’ve been
wanting to tell you something I have just uncovered.”
Then for the first time Kitty felt certain that Hazel Dawson had come
to the Bernard Hospital in the double capacity of nurse and
investigator in behalf of her brother. In order to give them plenty of
time for consultation she stayed in Billy’s room an hour, reading him
bedtime stories.
His sleepy eyes had been closed some time when her father poked his
head in the doorway and asked, “Kitten, aren’t you coming back to the
living-room?”
She tried to smile disarmingly as she said softly, “Billy felt sort of
out of it all. I had to make it up to him.”
“I want you to sing for Hazel,” he added as they went down the hall.
“Oh, please do!” exclaimed Hazel, who overheard them. “I’ve always
wanted to hear you sing.”
“This old piano is terribly out of tune, and I’m out of practice, but
I’ll try.”
She sang a simple little lullaby first, and gaining courage from their
praise, she sang the aria she had learned for her closing recital at
school.
“Oh, Kitty darling, your voice is really beautiful, so full and rich.
You _must_ go on with your music! All the world ought to be hearing
that beautiful voice.”
Hazel’s words once more stirred Kitty’s old ambition, that had been
overshadowed of late by circumstances.
“When the war is over, maybe,” she tried to speak with an indifference
she did not feel. “But right now I have other jobs to do.”
“Haven’t we all!” said Hazel significantly, and turned to meet her
friend’s understanding glance.
Later when her father had gone to take Hazel home, Kitty sat at the
window a long time. She felt an unaccountable loneliness, even while
her heart rejoiced at what the evening had revealed. What a wonderful
wife Hazel would make for her dad! His loneliness had long been a
source of unhappiness to her. Finally she went to her room, humming
softly the lullaby, hoping that those suspicions at least had good
foundation. Maybe some day after the war she would have a home of her
own. What a comfort it would be to know Dad was not left alone!
------------------------------------------------------------------------
CHAPTER SEVEN
THE TANGLED WEB
A wild March gale was howling over the island the following evening.
Though rain poured in torrents Kitty found a score of marines and
sailors already in the USO hall when she arrived at the Snack Bar. On
such nights she always thought of the boys across the water, who were
fighting in all sorts of weather. The Snack Bar and the cozy atmosphere
of the big hall made her wish they could all share this comfort.
Nell Cruger, the USO hostess, was worried when she remarked to Kitty,
“Vera just phoned from out at Thompsons’ place that she’s stuck in the
mud but will get here as soon as she can. We haven’t half enough girls
to keep the boys entertained till then.”
“Oh, depend on Vera to get out of any sort of tight spot,” replied
Kitty confidently. “She’ll be along after a while with a station wagon
full of girls.”
Kitty had her own Canteen duties to look after and was quite busy for
half an hour before she realized that Vera had not yet arrived. Only
one carful of girls had come in, and although they were doing their
best to make the boys have a pleasant evening, there was still not
nearly enough girls. Kitty decided the Canteen girls would have to do
double duty by helping the USO hostess.
She was about to tell Mrs. Evans she would go outside into the hall to
be some boy’s partner for a dance when she noticed a lonesome-looking
fellow at her own Snack Bar. She had served him a cup of coffee when he
first came in and had made overtures of friendship which had been
indifferently received. He still sat on the end stool, looking
dejectedly into space, half his coffee still in the cup.
“Anything else you’d like?” she asked.
“No, thanks,” he replied, without changing his position or looking
toward her.
She went back to the kitchen a moment later to get some more cream, and
Sally, elbow deep in suds, said, “Poor boy, he’s been sitting there in
a fog for the last half hour. Guess he’s got something rather
bothersome on his mind.”
“He looks like a new one in the service,” commented Kitty.
Later as she wiped the counter clean she noticed the sailor’s fresh,
fair complexion not yet tanned by the southern sun. There was something
about him that made her think of Billy. Her own little brother might
look like that when he was grown up. In twenty years she hoped there
wouldn’t be another war to catch him in its snares. If it had to happen
she knew she would thank any Canteen worker who would cheer him.
She pushed a neatly wrapped sandwich toward the sailor. “These
sandwiches are really good,” she said encouragingly. “Wouldn’t you like
to try one?”
Then he turned slightly and looked at her for the first time. “I
couldn’t swallow a bite,” he said.
His gentle gray eyes were as pathetic as a frightened lamb’s. Kitty
couldn’t bear it. She darted back to the kitchen to tell Mrs. Evans
about him.
“He’s been sitting there utterly dejected for the last half hour.”
“He’s Ned Miller,” explained Sally. “I’ve noticed him several times
lately—seems awfully depressed.”
“He doesn’t even know they’re dancing and playing games out there in
the hall,” Kitty said.
“I’ll see if I can draw him out,” Mrs. Evans volunteered.
She strolled from the kitchen and pretended to be busy at the counter.
In a casual manner she addressed Ned, “Wouldn’t you like to dance a
bit?”
“No, thanks, I don’t want to dance.” His tone was flat from lack of
interest.
“They’re scarce of girls tonight, but we’re not so busy either. I could
spare one of the Canteen girls to play a game of checkers with you, if
you like.”
“No, thanks.”
Just inside the kitchen door Kitty and Sally listened to Mrs. Evans’s
overtures of friendship.
Finally she spoke in a motherly tone. “Son, you’re worried about
something. Isn’t there anything I can do for you?”
Then the pleading gray eyes looked up at the motherly face and this
time they were swimming in tears. For a moment he seemed to be
appraising her. Finding the sympathy of her heart reflected in her eyes
he finally blurted, “I—I want to hold a baby.”
Kitty, watching beside Sally in the background fairly held her breath
at this unexpected retort.
“A baby?” repeated Mrs. Evans.
Ned dug into his pocket and brought out a yellow sheet of paper. The
girls saw it was a telegram as he handed it to her.
“Our baby came yesterday. They’re—they’re in California. I—I’ve been
so scared for her the last week I haven’t had good sense. I can’t
believe it’s all over and she’s all right.”
“Oh that’s wonderful!” exclaimed Mrs. Evans. “And a boy, too. Eight
pounds.”
He grew more confidential at her warmth and understanding.
“If—if I could only hold a baby once to see how it feels. I’ve never
held a baby. Maybe I can believe I’m a father when I know how a baby
feels.”
Hot tears blinded Kitty’s eyes, and her throat tightened. How tragic it
was to be three thousand miles away from your firstborn, with no real
hope of ever seeing him before you were sent across!
“Sally, I’m going to find a baby for him to hold if there’s a young
baby on this island!” Kitty whispered.
Sally wiggled her button nose as she, too, blinked back the tears.
“Say, but that’s tough! Where’ll you find a young one, Kit? I don’t
know where there’s a young baby.”
“I’ll find one. You’ll see,” said Kitty and dashed out to the telephone.
In two minutes she had Hazel Dawson on the phone. Surely she would know
if any of the wives of the service men up at the hospital had young
babies.
Hazel was rather surprised at Kitty’s unusual request, but after a
little thought said, “Mrs. Harper’s baby is about ten days old. She
came back from the hospital in town yesterday, I believe.”
“Do you think you could possibly arrange for me to bring Ned Miller up
to see it?” asked Kitty.
“I’m sure they’d be glad to have him visit them,” Hazel said kindly.
“Suppose you come past the hospital tomorrow at four-thirty when I get
off duty and I’ll go with you.”
“Oh, you’re an angel! If you could only see this pathetic boy, you’d do
anything in the world to make him a little happier.”
Kitty tried not to seem too excited over her success when she went back
behind the bar. Mrs. Evans was still talking to Ned when she joined
them.
“The Harpers have a young baby,” she said almost bluntly.
He glanced at her quickly, and his sensitive face flushed. “Maybe you
think it’s silly of me,” he apologized. “But it’s an awful feeling to
be three thousand miles away from your wife and baby.”
“You’re not silly at all! I’d be thrilled to pieces to go to see the
Harpers’ baby with you. They’re friends of Hazel Dawson. You know
Ensign Dawson up at the hospital?”
“Sure. She’s always ready to help somebody.”
“The Harpers’ baby is a few days older than yours, but then they’d feel
the same.”
“You’re so kind to go to all that trouble for me.”
“I’ll pick you up in our car tomorrow at four-thirty. I’m going over to
get Miss Dawson anyhow. She said she’d go with us and make arrangements
with the Harpers.”
“I just can’t thank you enough.” A smile actually brightened Ned’s face
as he spoke.
While Kitty was still talking to him Vera came in with half a dozen
girls. After she turned them loose in the hall she went behind the
Snack Bar looking rather excited. Kitty suggested that one of the new
arrivals dance with Ned, and when they had gone she said to Vera, “Hear
you had quite a time.”
------------------------------------------------------------------------
[Illustration: _“You’re Not Silly at All,” Kitty Told Him_]
------------------------------------------------------------------------
“I’ll say.”
“Were you alone when you got stuck?” asked Sally.
“Sure! You never get stuck when there’s anyone along to help.”
“Where were you?” asked Kitty.
“On that lonely stretch of road leading to the Thompson place. I went
out there to get Nancy. Rain had made the sand all gooey this side of
Waco bridge, and I got stuck fast.”
“In that dark, swampy road?” asked Sally.
“It would be there,” said Vera in disgust. “I worked till nearly dark
trying to get out, then I started on foot toward Thompsons’. I was just
about to cross the bridge over Waco Creek when I heard oars up the
stream.”
“I’d have been scared stiff there by myself,” said Sally with a shiver.
“I was too mad over being stuck to feel scared,” Vera stated. “I yelled
for that boatman to come and help me out—told him I was stuck.”
“Well?” said Kitty, sensing there was something very peculiar to come.
“He did help you, of course.”
“Not that sneak! The minute I yelled for help those oars stopped and I
never heard another sound.”
“Why, he couldn’t help but know it was a woman calling!” Kitty
exclaimed.
“Sure, he knew it was a woman in trouble.”
“I can’t understand that,” said Sally. “I’ve lived round here all my
life, and all the natives, white and colored, will go to no end of
trouble to help a person out of a tight spot, ’specially women.”
“I figured he was no native, and up to some skulduggery,” said Vera. “I
went on down the road and got Nancy Thompson’s brother, and we searched
that creek with flashlights as far as we could go.”
“And found nothing?” asked Kitty.
“That sneak had cleared out while I was gone. If you ask me there’s
plenty happening on this island that’s not printed in the papers.”
Secretly Kitty agreed with her. The incident made her only more
determined not to relax her vigilance about certain peculiar people she
was watching.
* * * * *
The next afternoon Kitty was waiting outside Hazel’s door at the
hospital promptly at four-thirty. She soon heard the soft, but brisk
step of her friend coming down the hall.
“Come in, while I freshen up a bit,” Hazel invited.
Kitty had never been in her new friend’s room, and felt a little
flutter of excitement as she went inside. Hazel proffered the only
rocker invitingly.
“You sit there and rest a minute dear, while I powder my nose and brush
my hair. You look as fresh as if you hadn’t had your household to look
after all day.”
“I must admit I haven’t had any idle moments,” Kitty confessed.
While Hazel was in the bathroom Kitty glanced around the room that had
been made so homelike with many individual touches. On the dresser she
noticed a picture of a handsome man, evidently slightly older than
Hazel. Her heart sank with misgivings. Perhaps Hazel was already
engaged to someone. For a moment she felt a pang of jealousy and
resentment. But she simply couldn’t believe Hazel would lead her father
on if she were in love with someone else.
“Who’s the gorgeous-looking man?” she asked frankly when Hazel returned
to the room.
“That’s my brother.”
“Oh, yes, of course—your brother, Willard, I’ve heard you speak about.”
“But how did you know his name? I—I never mention him here.”
“The day I met you in the launch Lieutenant Cary spoke of him.”
“Oh-h!” Hazel’s tone became a degree cooler. “He used to be stationed
here,” she added after a moment.
“So Dad said. He was sent here in his place, I understand.”
“I hope we don’t live to regret his asking for this post.”
“You—you mean Dad asked for this appointment?”
“Oh, beg pardon. I thought you knew that.”
“No, I didn’t. I knew nothing about it till Dad wrote me he was coming
to Palmetto Island, and it would be a grand place for me and Billy to
live.”
Why had both her father and Hazel asked to come here after the trouble
Hazel’s brother had had? To cover her confused thoughts Kitty took the
picture from the dresser and studied the face frankly. Now she could
see a resemblance to Hazel. In that strong chin, firm mouth and the
wide frank eyes she could find no evidence of one whose conduct might
merit his being relegated to some obscure Naval station.
As she and Hazel went out to meet Ned Miller in the lobby below she was
more convinced than ever that there was something mysterious going on,
in which her father was deeply involved.
Hazel proved herself an understanding pal that afternoon. She made it
seem the most natural thing in the world that Ned should want to see a
tiny baby. Kitty thought she had never seen anyone so frightened and so
awkward as Ned when he first took that little blanketed form in his
arms. But with every passing minute his stiffness and embarrassment
grew less. Before their brief call was over he had promised to carve
the baby a wooden bowl and spoon for his first eating.
“I like to carve things,” he said. “I made one for my own youngster two
months ago.”
He seemed to expand to new importance as he spoke. When Kitty and Ned
left together Hazel stayed on for a longer visit with her friends. As
they drove away Kitty remarked, “I didn’t notice till this afternoon
that you’re one of the boys who work in the galley.”
“I like it pretty well there,” admitted Ned. “I like doing things with
my hands. Glad they didn’t put me where I have to work at a desk or
anything like that.”
“And it helps a lot when you like the people you work with,” said
Kitty, not without an ulterior motive.
“My boss is fine—good natured as they make ’em.”
“Krome you mean? Chief Steward Krome?”
“Only one trouble about him—he snores like a steam engine. You punch
him and wake him up, and he goes right back at it again.”
“Isn’t there a thin, dark fellow named Punaro down in the galley?”
“Yeah! He collects waste from over the hospital and does things like
that. Looks after the kitchen garbage too.”
“I saw him over at the USO the other night playing chess with
Lieutenant Cary.”