Authors: Kathleen Knowles
Beth stayed quiet and attempted to read and do needlepoint.
Not long after Addison and Laura’s return from their trip, Beth had a letter requesting she come to the Presidio to interview with Major Dawson for a nursing post. She received this news with decidedly mixed feelings. She would be glad to get back to a working routine where she would have less time to think, her mind well-occupied with the demands of nursing rather than free to roam through the painful past and the despondent present. She knew vaguely that it wouldn’t be possible to rid herself of this conundrum.
Kerry’s presence in her life every day reminded her that she had changed. She needed to think of someone else’s feelings. Someone for whom she cared very much, someone whom she had hurt deeply and was compounding that pain by staying silent. Someone whom she believed she was in love with. Yet Beth could neither bring herself to leave and return home to the Mission District, nor could she tell Kerry the reason for her frightened withdrawal, no matter how bereft Kerry looked or how many times she pleaded with her in the darkness of their bedroom.
*
Kerry was at loss as to what to do about Beth’s silence. She missed her so much during the day she asked Chef Henri for the rest of the day off. He was distracted and waved her away. She went to a bakery downtown and bought a tart.
It will be pleasant to sit outside and eat this and look at the bay and the Golden Gate. I hope she can risk stepping away from the ward for a few minutes.
It was a clear, sunny day, as typical for San Francisco’s winter as the gray rainy days were. It was cool but the sun made it pleasant. Kerry got off the California Street cable car about a half mile from the Presidio. She would need to walk the rest of the way but she didn’t mind. It pleased her to be out of doors in the fresh air instead of in the hot, smoky, crowded kitchen. She trod a well-worn path from California Street into the Presidio. Generations of soldiers had made their way from the fort into town to see their girls. Kerry made the trip in reverse to see
her
girl,
who wasn’t a soldier but wasn’t far from being one. Kerry smiled a little thinking how much Beth took to and appreciated the military discipline of working at the post hospital.
Kerry stopped at the front desk and politely asked if Nurse Hammond was available. The nurse on duty, Marjorie Reynolds, contemplated her with her white cook’s jacket and cropped hair and replied, coolly, “Wait one moment. I’ll see.”
“Kerry dearest! Whatever prompted you to come here to the hospital?”
“I wanted to surprise you. Wasn’t this a welcome idea?”
“Yes, yes, of course. We’re not busy at the moment. We have just a few boys who are really ill. The rest are ambulatory. Still, I can’t stay away long.”
“I understand, Bethy. I just wanted to see you for a few minutes. See? I brought a tart.”
“When did you make this?” Beth asked, surprised.
“I didn’t bake it. I bought it at Boudin’s, along with the bread you like so much. The sourdough.”
“Oh, you did? How wonderful.” Leaving by a side door, they strolled along the pathway to a bench, where they sat and ate the raspberry tart together.
“I’ll be going home straight away. Would you like me to bake a chicken stuffed with mushrooms and oysters for supper? I’ll stop at the butcher on my way and get a fresh hen, not too big.” Beth watched Kerry’s face as she planned their dinner. She felt guilty that, instead of being angry, Kerry seemed to take ever more care of her and cook more and more elaborate meals.
“With the bread too, of course,” Kerry added, and smiled rather sadly.
After Kerry left, Beth went back to her task of washing and folding linen. She usually didn’t mind it when she had little else to do. It was one of those rote tasks she could perform without thought. Now, it left room for the endless circular guilty thoughts and the questions to which she had no answers.
“Do you need any help?” Marjorie asked, startling Beth out of her reverie.
“Oh, by all means, if you wish.”
“Stephen asks me about you every time I see him. He’s most taken with you, I think. It is a sadness to him that you wouldn’t allow him to call on you,” Marjorie said in a conversational tone.
Beth sensed something behind her words. She had met Marjorie’s brother Stephen when they resumed working at the Presidio Hospital. He was a dashing captain and had asked to court her, but she had refused.
Does she suspect something about Kerry now that she has seen her?
“I’m simply not in a position just now to make any new friends,” Beth said, in what she hoped was a pleasant tone. “We have such demanding work,” she added, knowing Marjorie couldn’t argue with that, though many nurses managed to be courted by young men or by doctors, and to marry, though a number of them didn’t.
“I met your friend, Kerry,” Marjorie said, in a seeming non sequitur, but Beth instantly knew she wasn’t making idle conversation.
Thinking of the scene she had witnessed on the
Golden Gate
, Beth took a breath, then took a giant chance. “Yes. She brought me a raspberry tart. She had left work early to come and have a short visit with me.” Beth paused, but Marjorie said nothing.
Beth continued. “Do you and Florence have a house?”
Marjorie’s eyes widened. During the long pause Beth could almost hear the sequence of Marjorie’s thoughts as they clicked into place.
“Ah. We would like to very much, but my mother’s health is still poor,” Marjorie said after a moment. “I must stay with her. Florence wouldn’t be, er, comfortable at my mother’s home.” Their eyes met.
Beth nodded. “Yes, that’s very difficult.” She thought of poor Florence’s entreaties of Marjorie during the Christmas party aboard the
Golden Gate.
She held Marjorie’s gaze and Marjorie gave her a tiny sad smile and nodded back.
“So, Nurse Hammond, what are your future plans? Do you want to continue working here for the army or return to a civilian hospital?” Beth saw that the subject of Florence was clearly closed for the moment, but they had taken a small step forward. She thought for a moment—considering if it was a good idea to tell Marjorie about Addison’s suggestion.
But before she could decide, Marjorie said, “The army may soon make us nurses permanent employees. That is why I ask you of your plans. I would hope you would give serious thought to staying on. Dr. McGee is currently lobbying the war office in Washington to create a special corps for nurses.”
“I suppose so,” Beth said carefully. “I do love the work and am fond of all the soldier boys and you and the others, of course.” She was rewarded by a rare smile from Marjorie.
“Well. I’d consider it an honor to have you remain under me. I would hope to be given an army rank, and all of us would benefit. You’re an excellent nurse, one of the best I’ve ever seen.”
Beth cleared her throat.
Marjorie looked at her keenly. “Speak up, Nurse. Do you wish to say something?”
“No. I would be honored to work with you as well. It’s just that, well, I’m not sure what I want to do.”
“I find it hard to believe you don’t consider nursing your life’s work. You have a gift, Elizabeth. It would be a shame not to use it.” Beth was startled that Marjorie used her first name. It was the first time she had ever done so.
“It’s not that, Nurse Reynolds.”
“Then what is it? I’m not in need of your final decision, but I would like to know your thoughts.”
“Dr. Grant thinks I should apply to medical school and become a doctor.”
During the long silence, Marjorie looked away, then down at her hands, which had been neatly folding a sheet but were still.
“That is kind of him to say, but it would be inadvisable for you to take him up on his recommendation. Dr. Grant means well but…”
Now Beth was even more confused and taken aback that Marjorie would feel that way.
“Please tell me why you think so. You and he both agree that I am very, very good at nursing. He says I have a knack for medicine, for discerning symptoms, for—”
“It’s not your intelligence or ability I question, Nurse,” Marjorie said sharply.
Beth stayed quiet, waiting for Marjorie to explain herself.
“Men are doctors, women are nurses. It’s the natural way of things. You would have a very difficult time with the men in medical school and after, trying to work with them at the same level. It’s not a suitable profession for a woman. I do hope you aren’t seriously considering trying this?”
“I don’t know yet. I have been thinking about it but I’ve reached no conclusion. Your opinion matters to me, of course, but so does Doctor Grant’s.” Beth was hurt that Marjorie had reacted to her news in such a negative fashion.
“Well. I have expressed my opinion. I can only hope you take it to heart,” Marjorie said stiffly. She was obviously unhappy and ill at ease. She went back to folding and stowing linen.
Beth was sorry; she had hoped their friendship would prosper from their shared understanding. It occurred to her suddenly how ironic it was that Marjorie spoke of the “natural order of things” when the love of her life was another woman. How does one reconcile those two opposite ideas? Beth thought. Well, it’s a discussion we may have at some future time.
Addison had decided not to accept the army’s offer to return to service, and he offered Kerry and Beth the use of the carriage.
“I have performed my patriotic duty and I want to go back to the hospital, where they have thoughtfully not replaced me.”
“I’ll drive you to work and come and fetch you in the evening,” Kerry said to Beth, as though there was nothing more to discuss.
Beth objected. “Nonsense. You’ll be working until after midnight. I’ll be on the usual twelve-hour shift—six to six.”
“You’ve no other way to travel to the post, Bethy.”
“I shall have to find another way. I’ll walk.”
“You can’t walk. It’s too far and your work is entirely too hard. I’ll take you. Now please don’t argue anymore. I’m not one of your patients whom you can bully.”
Beth’s eyes blazed but she bit off her response. “Very well.”
Every day, Kerry took Beth to work and then came home, slept for a couple hours, then went to work herself. Beth found a colleague to bring her home. Kerry came home at midnight and crawled into bed next to Beth. They woke up at five a.m. and started all over again.
After a few weeks, Beth was alarmed at how tired Kerry looked and said so. Kerry wouldn’t admit to exhaustion, but she decided to come home rather than work the dinner service. After dinner with Addison and Laura, they had retired to their bedroom.
“I’ll apply for quarters at the post, then you won’t have to endure this.”
“No. If you do so, we’ll never see each other.”
“Kerry dearest, you must get some rest, or you’ll damage your health.”
“Beth, it’s not me I worry about. It’s you.”
“Me?” Beth asked. In spite of her fatigue, Kerry got out of bed and paced. Beth sat on the side of the bed and watched her.
“Do you love me?” Kerry asked after a time.
“Well, yes, of course. I—” Beth stopped.
It’s true. I do love her.
“Then tell me what’s wrong. Three weeks ago, you couldn’t let me touch you. Since then, we’ve been living under this terrible tension. If this is something to do with me, tell me. If it isn’t, please tell me so I can help. Please, Beth. Please.”
Beth stayed silent, tracing the pattern on the quilt with her fingertip.
“Beth. Look at me.” Beth turned her face to the side and looked down. Kerry knelt on the floor in front of her, holding Beth’s face between her hands as she looked her in the eye.
“They will have some housing ready for us soon. I’ll move. It’s better that way,” Beth said, dully.
“No. That isn’t what you want, it’s not what I want. We are to be together.”
“Kerry, I can’t be to you what you want me be. It’s not fair to you.”
“No. Beth, I love you. Don’t speak to me about fairness. Please tell me what’s troubling you.”
“I can’t. Please don’t ask me anymore.”
Exhaustion and frustration overcame Kerry and she could no longer rein in her emotions.
“You don’t care for me as you claim to.” She stood up and went to the window that overlooked the yard.
“Oh, but I do. Kerry, that’s why I want you to be well and happy.”
“My wellness and happiness depend on you. You love me, I know you do. I love you and I want to show you how much. Don’t you want me, too? I think you do.” Kerry touched her arm and Beth shivered.
“Yes, I do, but—”
“But what?”
Beth started to cry and looked away. Kerry was torn between sympathy and anger. She wanted to comfort Beth but she knew the moment she touched her, comfort would turn to desire. She couldn’t bear the thought of another rejection.
“I’m leaving, Beth. I need to get away from you. I can’t stand it. You won’t tell me what’s wrong, you push me away at every turn, but you claim to love me. I can’t live this way.”
“Kerry, please. Don’t go.”