For the love of my enemy, p.2
For the Love of My Enemy, page 2
There, she said it. She waited, jutting her eyes to the side, anticipating his response.
“I suggest you take a room at Jeanie Mae O’Brien’s home,” he said, his Lithuanian accent still thick after all these years in America. “I’m sure her mother and father would be delighted to board you. Maybe then you’d be able to take up your cause.”
Papa was adept at putting Adina in her place, but he wasn't a very good communicator—unless he was answering a medical question. When Adina was studying for her nursing exams, she was sure to do it when Papa was nearby and she could engage him in an in-depth conversation on a medical subject, such as the skeletal structure of the hand. She learned early on that if she purposely pronounced a term wrong, saying something like “metacarpalaries” instead of “metacarpals,” Papa would interject, “No, no, no. That is not correct. The correct pronunciation of the word is—” He would then sit next to her, sketch a diagram of the hand, labeling all its bones, and talk her through the correct pronunciation of each one. It wasn’t much, but for Adina, it was everything.
“Papa, would it be all right if I dropped the meds off to Mrs. Walters later? I wanted to stop at the Groceteria before—”
“Do not argue with me, Adina. First thing, yes?” He retrieved a clean handkerchief from his pocket and wiped a smudge from his glasses. “And do not forget, I have a very important meeting later this afternoon. I might be home later than what is usual.”
She huffed and hopped on the bicycle, riding down the dirt drive.
“Adina Luisa, you heard me?” he called out.
“I heard!” she yelled back and stepped up her pace.
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Adina pedaled down Redwood Road toward town. She loved early morning rides, with the smell of wet earth and the feel of damp, cold air blowing in her face. She tipped her head back and breathed in deep, closing her eyes every now and then. She breathed in the stillness, the quiet. So quiet, all she could hear was the sound of her bicycle tires spraying mist off the dew-laced road.
It was a wonder how a bicycle could become a trusted old friend. Adina’s Elgin had been in the family since before she was born. Her mother used the same bike on her home nursing route. After Mama’s death, Adina gave the bike a fresh coat of navy-blue paint and replaced the well-used wicker basket with a newer one. She also attached a battery-operated headlight for riding at night. A nurse never knew when she’d be called out on an emergency in the dark of night. Being prepared was an absolute must. Adina hadn’t gone on many night calls—or any night calls, for that matter—but she added the headlight, nonetheless.
It was hard to believe the world was still at war on such a bright, beautiful summer morning as today. Yet Adina was still here in her protected, quaint hamlet of a town in Northern California. She wanted to be over there—wherever “over there” might be—in the thick of it, serving in some capacity for the greater good. She’d considered enlisting last year when she first got her nursing certificate. She and her best friend, Jeanie Mae, had been talking about it ever since the US entered the war. The two of them envisioned it in detail. Jeanie would entertain the troops, and Adina would tend to the wounded and dying soldiers. But Adina’s father would have none of that kind of talk in his house. He insisted he needed her here, nursing alongside him at the clinic.
“It is for our town, Adina,” he told her. “You must think of the great need here at home. There are plenty of nurses risking their lives overseas. Adding one more nurse over there won’t make any difference to the effort.” Papa wasn’t known for tactful communication, at least not since Mama died seven years ago. The loss of her tore a deep hole in him. Anything resembling joy fell into its depths, and he lost interest in most of the things he once loved.
Adina spent most of the first year after her mother’s death fighting for Papa’s attention. At age thirteen, she came to understand and accept that her father would not be what she needed him to be. With her mother gone, she would need to buck up, grow up, and begin to make decisions on her own.
Pouring herself into the lives of others through nursing became a type of sanctuary for her. She lived for it. Thrived in it. Not only did it fulfill a deep need for her to connect with others, but it also enabled her to be the giver her mother once was. And it allowed her to spend time with Papa. When she nursed alongside him, they were working toward a common goal. They operated on the same level. He respected her. Depended on her. He needed her. Adina craved this and fed on it as often as she could.
But the war had brought different types of challenges to the home front. Adina and Papa were more than busy attending to the medical needs of the town: illnesses, aches and pains, regular checkups and medications, and pregnant wives left behind. None of these things ceased just because a war was happening across the seas. One thing was for certain: anxiety and depression were on the rise. Broken hearts, mostly, and death. It was a medically proven fact that a person could die of a broken heart. That was the worst sickness of all.
Still, the town of Windsor soldiered on, its residents resilient and determined to see the war through. Some of them had already made it through the Great War by the skin of their teeth. Papa was one such person, though as a little girl, Adina didn’t remember seeing any of the negative effects of war on him. Not the kind she’d heard about, shell shock and the like. She’d heard stories of men who had returned home completely changed. It was as though their normal reasoning had been ripped out of them and replaced with unending anxiety and fear. She’d heard tales of men thrashing and screaming in their beds at night, running from invisible enemies. Some would walk around during the day like dead men, yet still alive, trapped in a shell of who they once were.
But not Adina’s father. Her early childhood memories of Papa were nothing but joy. He loved to laugh, to experience life. When he wasn’t working at the clinic or making his rounds through the town, he was at home treasuring every moment with her and her mother. In Adina’s memory, they were an inseparable trio. Nothing could break them apart.
Yet death has a way of butting in where it’s not wanted, especially when one isn’t looking. It barges in to take what it wants at will. It wasn’t a war that emptied Papa of who he once was. It was a broken heart. Luisa Robbins got sick and died. As far as Papa was concerned, Mama took his heart with her when she left, leaving in its place a cold, empty sadness. From that time forward, he went through each day broken, working tirelessly from sunrise to sunset. Work became his life—the very air he breathed, day in and day out.
Though working alongside her father proved difficult at times, Adina was grateful for the opportunity to do so. Papa was a brilliant doctor and highly respected in the community. Adina had learned so much from working by his side. She watched his every move, followed his lead. She listened intently as he gave instructions to his patients, marking his words in her mind so she could imitate his ways when she was out on her visits, nursing alone, as she was today, and every day.
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Into Town
Redwood Road curved and stretched its way toward town. Adina followed through with Mrs. Walter’s “first thing” delivery at her father’s request and now made her way downtown to the Groceteria. The trousers she chose to wear today were giving her grief, catching in the bike chain.
Should’ve tucked them into my socks, she thought.
She paired them with a white-collared cotton blouse, the one she usually wore with her skirt and white stockings, but the stockings were out of the question today. She only owned three pairs. One had a small hole that raced up the back of her leg no matter how many times she patched it. Another, she saved specifically for work. That pair was in pretty good shape but hadn’t been rinsed out in a couple days. When it came down to it, she was just too tired at night, and reading a good book was much more inviting. As for the third pair, they were in fine form. But with nylon being in short supply, she didn’t want to risk snagging them. A girl needed at least one decent pair of stockings ready for a night on the town. But then again, who was she kidding? She couldn’t remember the last time she had a night on the town.
Her wavy auburn hair was pulled back into a loose ponytail, and a red wool beret sat on top. At five foot two, she was almost as tall as her mother had been. Adina favored her mother in more ways than just her petite size. Her thick, wavy hair and the sparkle in her eyes, as well as the freckles on her nose and cheeks. “For a moment, I thought I was looking at your mother,” Carl Sanderson, the owner of the Windsor Groceteria, once said to her. To which her simple reply was, “Thank you.”
The small town of Windsor was just waking up on this unseasonably cool June morning. Newspapers lay in driveways and on porches. For the last two weeks, their headlines had declared the valiant successes of the Allies’ landing and advancements at Normandy. D-Day, they had called it. Finally, a slight ray of hope that this long, bloody war could be winding down. Yet the listings of the dead continued to flood in. There was no escaping it.
Adina rode past homes and businesses as she neared the main street. Banners with stars hung in front windows, and ribbons were tied on trees in honor of loved ones still serving. Town residents were out and about, sweeping front porches or picking up newspapers. She passed them by to the occasional tune of, “Good morning, Adi,” or, “Hello there, Nurse Robbins.”
She in turn called out in acknowledgement to each one personally. “Well, hello there, Mr. Murray. You’re looking fit and chipper today.” A turn of the head, a wave of the hand. “Good morning, Mrs. Quinn. That baby will be here any day now.”
Adina had lived in the small town for as long as she could remember. She loved her hometown, and it loved her back, even if she did feel trapped. If she did ever make it into the Army Nursing Corps and overseas, she knew for certain that when her service was over, she’d come back home to Windsor.
A full day lay ahead of her as she rode past the Texaco station and the post office. Home visits would fill the morning hours. On some days after lunch, she would head back to the clinic to assist her father with patient after patient who walked into the small clinic sitting at the front of the Robbins’ property. Papa and Mama set up the practice twenty-five years ago, working hard to earn the trust and respect of the community, and providing medical care to anyone who needed it. Even in the heat of the Depression, when folks couldn’t pay for a doctor, Papa treated them, Mama tended to them. The town had been grateful ever since.
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Adina pulled up to the small town market and leaned her bicycle against the side of the red brick building. Showing up early at Carl Sanderson’s Groceteria for a fresh-baked pastry was a hard and fast ritual for her. Carl’s wife, Gracie, was known all over town for her delicious, home-baked pastries. Sugar rationing limited Mrs. Sanderson’s confections, but if there were pastries today, they’d be sitting in a glass case at the front counter. Adina had been thinking of them since she first woke up this morning.
Tinkling bells rang out as she walked through the front entrance. A sweet aroma greeted her, along with the soft sounds of Les Brown and His Band of Renown from the Philco behind the counter.
“Morning, Adina,” Carl Sanderson called out. He was standing in front of a fastidiously stacked display of vegetable soup cans. Right next to it stood a cardboard cutout of a woman ladling steamy hot vegetable soup into cups. The bold print next to the woman's perfectly coiffed blond hair read, “Wouldn’t I be silly to make it myself?”
Sanderson stepped back to admire his work. “Ain’t she a beauty?” he said, eyes beaming.
Adina wasn’t sure if he was referring to the pretty woman or the stacked cans. She stepped closer to the display, tilted her head, and folded her arms. She didn’t want the man to think she didn’t care.
“Yep, she’s a beauty,” she said.
Satisfied, he turned to Adina. “You’re out at the crack again, Adina. Seeing some patients this morning?” He walked behind the front counter. “Bet you’ll be wanting one of these fresh, warm pastries.” He tempted her by lifting the lid on the glass case.
“You know me well, Mr. Sanderson.” She hovered over the sugary confections, breathing in their delicious aroma. “Any blackberry today?”
“You’re in luck. They’re all blackberry. The wife canned a bumper crop of those berries last summer. Got ’em coming out of our ears.”
She flashed a smile at Carl. “Well, guess I’m just lucky today,” she said.
He placed the pastry in a brown paper sack and handed it to her. She couldn’t wait and immediately pulled it out, sinking her teeth into the berries surrounded by flaky pastry and powdered sugar.
The sound of the front entrance bells drew her attention. Adina lit up as she saw Jeanie Mae O’Brien walk in. Jeanie was what the boys would call a head turner. She wore her loosely curled, shoulder-length blond hair in victory rolls, the sides neatly pinned at the base of her neck. She only recently started wearing it that way, saying it made her look more mature. She had all the curves in all the right places and was a talented fashion plate. She could pull a used skirt and blouse out of a charity grab bag, add a scarf and hat, and look like she stepped off a page of Look magazine.
Adina met Jeanie in grade school, and the girls became fast friends. Not having any siblings made it easy for Adina to attach herself to Jeanie Mae. They grew up together, an inseparable pair. Day in and day out, they walked to school together and ate lunch together. They shared clothes, as well as all their secrets. They laughed and cried together. To each other they were Jee Mae and Adi Lou, bosom buddies through and through.
Jeanie caught sight of Adina and threw her arm up in a wave. “Hey there, buddy,” she yelled. She was wearing a white summer dress with a matching jacket. She held her wide-brimmed hat to her head with her white-gloved hand as she excitedly ran to Adina. Jeanie always had some big news or juicy gossip to spill. She pulled Adina into a big hug, like she hadn’t seen her in years, though they had just seen each other the day before yesterday.
“Oh, Adi, am I glad to see you.” She gave Adina a kiss on the cheek, leaving a red stain behind. “Oops. Sorry, sweetie, I left some lips on you.” Taking off her glove, she licked her thumb and attempted to wipe away the stain.
“Stop that, Jee,” Adina said, brushing Jeanie’s hand to the side. “What on earth are you so excited about?”
Jeanie looped her arm through Adina’s. “Come, let’s go outside. I need to talk to you about something.”
Adina pursed her lips. “All right, but I don’t have much time. I have an appointment at the Quinns’. I’m already late.”
The two walked arm in arm toward the exit.
“Thanks again for the pastry, Mr. Sanderson,” Adina called out.
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Once outside, Jeanie Mae tugged at Adina’s arm, practically dragging her along the walkway.
“Hurry up, over here,” she said, pulling Adina toward her bicycle. Adina was getting annoyed with her friend’s antics. Jeanie always had something up her sleeve.
“For crying out loud, Jee. You’re crazy.” Adina placed the bagged pastry in her bicycle basket. With her hands on her hips, she looked at her friend. “Okay, who is it this time? Let me guess. It’s that sailor you met in the city last weekend. Frankie, Freddie, or whatever his name is.”
Jeanie rolled her eyes. “It’s Felix, and he’s old news.” She moved in closer to Adina, taking hold of both her hands. Her eyes were wide and alive, filled with urgency.
Adina could see that this wasn’t one of Jeanie’s typical GI-on-leave scenarios.
“I’m doing it,” Jeanie said. “I’m joining up. The recruiter will be in town again next week.” She searched Adina’s eyes.
Both girls dreamed of joining the Women’s Army Corps since the start of the war, but Adina always thought of it as a teenage romantic fantasy. It would never come true—at least not for her.
“The WACs are calling, Adina. I need to respond.” Jeanie Mae tugged Adina’s arms. “Come on, Adi. We can’t do this anymore—just sit around this town waiting for something to happen. There’s a war going on. Our boys are dying. Women are dying, too, you know that, right? I mean sure, we’ve had some victories here and there, but there’s so much more to be done.”
Adina held onto Jeanie’s hands. She loved her friend. She couldn’t imagine being separated from her one true cohort. They were closer than blood-related sisters.
Wow, Jee. Are you sure? I mean, this is for real. You’re really going to do this?”
Jeanie Mae’s eyes widened. Her face lit up, determined. “You’re going to do it with me, Adi. We need to do this together, just like we planned.” She squinted, waiting for Adina to respond. “You need to do this, Adi Lou, you know you do. You can’t just stay in this dumpy town nursing the old folks and pregnant women who were left behind. There’s a world of hurt out there that’s in need of your service. It’s time to go…before it’s over. When it’s all said and done, don’t you want to be able to say you did something?”
Adina stood speechless. Of course, she wanted to make a difference. If joining the WACs and leaving town would make it happen, she’d do it right now. She just wasn’t sure that it would. Maybe she was too afraid to leave. Besides, her father would fight it, that was for certain. Would she have the guts to fight back? Would it be worth it?
Jeanie Mae was different. Jeanie Mae was brave. When they were kids, she climbed the highest trees and ran the fastest. She wasn’t afraid of spiders or rats, not even ghosts. She never let anything stand in her way. When an older boy at school had bullied Adina to tears, it was Jeanie who kicked him in the shins and said if he didn’t leave Adina alone, she’d have her big brother, Jimmy, beat the tar out of him. Jimmy was now on a battleship fighting somewhere in the South Pacific.
