Chapter Fourteen Ava

FOURTEEN : AVA

TULLAHOMA, TENNESSEE

FEbrUARY 1942

The hospital staff continued to buzz about Gunther Schneider's heroic actions.

Although I hadn't seen him since the day he walked out of the mess hall under guard, I heard nurses, orderlies, and even a handful of doctors discussing the case. How did he know what to do? was the common question. I didn't have answers for them, being that the personal information Gunther shared with me about attending medical school in New York was private. In all honesty, I was as amazed as everyone else that he'd saved a life right before my very eyes. Just yesterday the soldier who'd collapsed was released from the hospital. I never heard what caused him to stop breathing, but I hoped he counted himself lucky that Gunther Schneider was nearby when he did.

Colonel Foster approached my desk when he returned to the office later that afternoon, a serious look on his face. "I need to have a word with you, Mrs. Delaney."

I hurried to follow him into his office, where he closed the door. Nervous butterflies whirled in my stomach. Had I done something wrong? I was still learning about supply lists, medical terms, and the like, and it was easy to make a mistake.

He motioned for me to take a seat, then settled in his own chair. "I had a lunch meeting with some of our doctors today." He tented his fingers while his elbows rested on his desk. "It seems you were involved in an incident last week, along with one of the German detainees. Is this true?"

I swallowed. "Yes, sir."

"Would you care to explain why you were in the company of this man?"

I blinked. "You gave me his file to update, sir."

The colonel frowned. "I gave you his file?"

I nodded.

After a long moment, the scowl on his face eased. "I apologize, Mrs. Delaney. That was an error on my part. You should not have been put in the position of interacting with one of the internees."

My tense shoulders relaxed. "He was very polite."

Colonel Foster leaned back in his chair. "I understand he saved a man's life."

"It was extraordinary." I couldn't hide my awe. "Mr. Schneider was a student at Columbia medical school when he was arrested."

"Ah. That answers some of my questions." He met my gaze. "What else did Mr. Schneider tell you?"

I suddenly felt a strange sense of protectiveness over the conversation I'd had with Gunther about his arrest and detainment. Although he hadn't elaborated on his life, he had trusted me enough to vocalize his confusion over the situation he found himself in. While Colonel Foster oversaw the hospital, I didn't know if the private details Gunther shared with me were relevant to his job.

"He hopes to return to medical school someday to become a doctor."

The colonel looked thoughtful. "Tell me what you witnessed Mr. Schneider do that day."

I described the situation as best I could. I also had to confess it was my idea to involve Gunther in the first place. "I'm not a doctor, but I can't help but wonder if the soldier would have survived if Mr. Schneider had not acted as he did. It's a shame he's locked up, unable to continue his studies. At least he's able to work as an orderly until he's released."

A pensive look crossed the colonel's face. "Major Tyson doesn't agree. He refused to let Schneider return to the hospital after the incident."

"But why? Mr. Schneider saved that soldier's life."

"The major doesn't believe an orderly should have performed a medical procedure. Especially not an orderly who is a German detainee. Schneider could have killed the man." He paused. "I agree with Major Tyson. We can't have unskilled personnel acting without supervision."

"But Mr. Schneider isn't unskilled. He was training to become a doctor before the government arrested him."

The colonel gave me a patient look. "We don't know anything about Mr. Schneider, other than the information he himself has provided. I don't think it wise to find him trustworthy just yet."

"But is it fair to mis trust him simply because he's German?"

A slight smile lifted the corners of his mouth. "Touché." He tapped his finger on the desk. "Perhaps I should meet Mr. Schneider before I decide on whether to let him continue to work in the hospital or not. Please set up an appointment for him to come to my office tomorrow."

I couldn't help but grin. "Yes, sir."

He chuckled. "I believe your skills of persuasion are wasted as a secretary, Mrs. Delaney. You should be an attorney."

I returned to my desk and checked the colonel's schedule for the following day, determining the best time for Gunther to meet with him. I wasn't sure how the German man would feel about this, or if he even desired to continue working in the hospital, but I also couldn't help but believe he had skills that shouldn't go to waste.

After several unsuccessful attempts to contact the guardhouse at the detainment area by telephone, I decided to go in person. I hadn't ventured beyond the hospital complex since I began working on base, and I felt nervous as I drove along unfamiliar streets.

The internment camp was located farther away from the main sector than I realized, yet I knew when I reached it. Surrounded by forest, the entire area was enclosed in high, barbed-wire fencing. Guard towers were visible where armed men watched over the inmates. Row after row of small, identical huts with pointed roofs—exactly as Stella and Ethel described—filled my view as I inched toward the gated entrance.

An unsmiling soldier exited a guardhouse and approached when I rolled down the car window.

"Ma'am, this is a restricted area. You'll need to leave."

I swallowed my nerves. "I work for Colonel Foster. He has requested a meeting with one of the internees."

The young man eyed me suspiciously. "Which internee does the colonel wish to see?"

"Gunther Schneider. He works as an orderly in the hospital."

The guard walked back to the small building where another soldier stood, watching me. They conferred, then the first man returned.

"Where does the colonel want the prisoner brought, and what time?"

My shoulders stiffened. "Mr. Schneider is not a prisoner. None of these men are. They're being detained by our government because of their birth origins. Some of them aren't even aware of the charges brought against them."

The soldier appeared unmoved.

I gave him the location and time for the meeting tomorrow, then turned the car around and headed back to the office. However, I couldn't help but study the internment camp as I drove alongside the barbed-wire fence. Although most of Camp Forrest's buildings were new construction and had little embellishment, the huts Gunther and the other internees lived in seemed especially austere. Maybe it was simply that I knew it to be a prison of sorts, but I found myself outraged that men like Gunther Schneider were forced to reside here.

When the day came to an end, I bid Bren and the others good night and drove home. The beauty of the countryside always lifted my spirits, and I turned up the radio when Jimmy Dorsey's "Blue Champagne" began to play. Richard had loved to dance to this song, and I smiled, remembering how he'd twirled me across the dance floor at the USO in Nashville.

I turned off the paved road and crested the hill to the farm, grateful that memories of Richard didn't hurt as much as they had right after we learned he'd been killed. I still missed him and wished things had turned out differently, but the tiniest hints of peace were beginning to replace the fear and aloneness I'd felt in those first weeks.

A strange sedan sat in front of the house when I arrived. I cut off the engine, curious who'd come to visit Gertrude. In the time I'd lived on the farm, she had never invited guests. In all honesty, I wasn't sure she possessed any friends or family.

High-pitched laughter greeted me as I came in the kitchen door. A young woman with midnight-black hair, styled in the latest fashion, and ruby-red lips sat at the table with Gertrude.

"I told him he had another think comin' if he thought I'd go on a second date with him," she said with a southern twang. A loud cackle followed.

I closed the door. The sound drew Gertrude's attention.

"It's about time you got home. We've been waiting."

I drew to a stop, confused by her angry tone. "I'm sorry. Did you ask me to come home early today?" I glanced at the young woman sitting with her. Her dark eyes gave me a once-over, seeming to sum me up from head to toe.

Gertrude waved her hand in the air. "Never mind. Come meet Ivy Lee Culbertson."

I set my purse on the counter and stepped toward the stranger. She didn't rise, so I offered my hand. "It's nice to meet you, Miss Culbertson. Are you a friend of Gertrude's?"

She looked at me as though I'd said something ridiculous. "I'm your new boarder, silly." Her eyes traveled around the kitchen. "I wasn't sure I'd like livin' out here in the boonies, but now that I'm here, I think I'll enjoy the country." She waggled her perfectly plucked eyebrows. "You got any cowboys out here? I've never met one before."

I stood silent, baffled by the conversation.

Ivy Lee referred to herself as our boarder, but Gertrude hadn't mentioned anything about taking in renters. With few motels or rental properties available in town, I'd heard people were opening their homes to the wives and families of servicemen, as well as those who came to work at the military installation. I'd never considered allowing a stranger to move into the farmhouse, mainly because Gertrude valued her privacy too much. I'd tried to respect that in the months I'd been here, often retiring to my room right after supper, so she could have the parlor to herself to read or listen to one of her favorite radio programs. It was totally out of character for her to open her door to a young woman neither of us knew.

But when I looked to her for answers, she wouldn't meet my gaze.

"Miss Culbertson." I forced a smile. "Would you excuse Gertrude and me for a moment? There's something I need to discuss with her. We won't be long."

I didn't wait to see if Gertrude followed and headed for the bedroom at the foot of the stairs. It had once been Richard's, but now it was where I slept. When she appeared a moment later, I closed the door.

"Would you care to tell me what's going on?"

She sniffed and jutted out her chin. "I rented a room to Ivy Lee."

"I gathered that," I said, folding my arms across my belly. "Don't you think you should have consulted me first?"

"This is my house. I can do what I want." She gave a blasé shrug. "Don't need your permission."

I took a deep breath to calm my rising ire. "I'm not saying you do, but this is my home, too. It would've been nice to at least have some warning that you intended to allow a stranger to move in."

"You were a stranger to me when you first got here," she said, challenge in the words. "That didn't stop you."

I stared at her. "I was your son's wife. Your daughter-in-law. Surely you see the difference."

She turned away. "Well, it's too late. I've already told her she can have the room."

"Which room?"

She rolled her eyes. "The one upstairs. I wouldn't give away your room without telling you first."

Her answer didn't make me feel better.

"May I ask what you know about her? Where did you meet her?"

Gertrude proceeded to impart the tale of how she'd gone to town to the market—"Since you aren't around to help me anymore"—and ran into Clara Bontrager. Clara, a widow in her seventies, had taken in boarders, but her home was full and couldn't accommodate Ivy Lee, whose friend was staying at Clara's house.

"The poor child had no place to go," Gertrude said, her sympathetic expression unpersuasive.

The account sounded factually correct, but I wasn't convinced Gertrude had done this solely to help the young woman currently seated at the kitchen table.

"How much is she paying you for room and board each month?"

Gertrude's scowl told me she didn't want to divulge that information, but when she finally said the amount—far more than I'd expected—I knew I'd discovered the reason Ivy Lee was moving to the farm.

"You're always saying we don't have enough money," she huffed. "If you don't like Ivy's being here, you tell her she can't move in."

I heaved a sigh. "I just wish you would have discussed this with me before offering to rent a room, that's all. But you're right. We can definitely use the extra income."

I followed Gertrude back to the kitchen, but Ivy Lee wasn't where we'd left her. A noise came from the parlor. When we reached the doorway, we found our new boarder rifling through the drawer of the desk in the corner.

"Ahem," I said.

The nosy woman startled. When she looked up, she sent us a sheepish look. "I was lookin' for a pencil."

My gaze dropped from her unapologetic expression to the holder on the desktop, filled with half a dozen perfectly fit writing instruments.

"Oh, how silly of me," she said when she glanced at them too.

Whether she was truly that scatterbrained or had just given us evidence of her untrustworthiness, I wasn't certain, but it served to put me on edge.

"Why don't we sit down and get to know one another." I proceeded to settle on the sofa without giving her or Gertrude the opportunity to decline.

Once we were seated, I asked, "When would you like to move in?"

"As soon as possible. I'm staying at a motel over in Shelbyville, but I start my new job at Camp Forrest tomorrow."

"I work at the camp, too," I said. "What department are you in?"

"It's top secret, hon. You know how that is."

I forced myself not to roll my eyes. "What about your family? Where are they?"

"All my kin are in Memphis. That's where I grew up. Daddy's an important politician, and Mama is a member of the DAR and the Daughters of the Confederacy."

I nodded, pretending to be impressed. "I'm sure they'll miss you."

Her gaze landed on a framed photograph of Richard on the mantel. "He sure is handsome. Who is he? One of your boarders, I hope."

Her coquettish grin rankled. I glanced at Gertrude to see if she would put the girl in her place, but she just stared at the black-and-white picture, taken right after Richard joined the Navy.

"That is my husband, Richard. Gertrude's son." I met the young woman's curious gaze. "He died at Pearl Harbor."

Ivy Lee took in a gulp of air, and, for the first time, she spoke with sincerity. "I'm very sorry. I didn't know."

I stood, indicating our meeting was over.

Ivy Lee followed. It was decided she would move in tomorrow evening after work, and she bid us goodbye.

Gertrude and I ate leftover meatloaf in silence. I volunteered to wash the dishes, and Gertrude disappeared upstairs. Although I had more questions about Ivy Lee and how we would handle a boarder, they would have to wait until morning.

I started in the direction of my room, turning out lights as I went. In the parlor, I stopped in front of Richard's photograph. Ivy Lee was right. He truly was handsome. All the girls at the USO in Nashville thought him dreamy, and more than one looked at me with envy when he asked me to dance.

"I wish you were here," I whispered. "Everything is so different without you."

Unfortunately, wishes like that don't come true.

I flicked off the lamp and retreated to my room where I readied for bed. Beneath the cold sheets, I stared into the darkness.

Suddenly, a man's face appeared in my mind, his eyes brilliant blue, but it wasn't Richard.

I fell asleep thinking about the German internee, Gunther Schneider.