“Oh, that’s right.” Jeb elbowed Wilhelm. “You were up north at a funeral, I think. Tell him what happened next, Hattie.”
“I already felt nauseated.” She nibbled her bottom lip. The incident still conjured nightmares. “Other than church and family-type functions, it was my singing debut. My nerves raised a ruckus. I knew the tune, but the lyrics disappeared from my brain. The band started from scratch, but this time instead of freezing, I retched.”
“I’m sorry,” Wilhelm whispered.
Jeb laughed, slapping the table.
Daddy popped his toothpick between his lips. “Delwyn was just one rotten apple. There’s still ripe ones for the picking, Button.”
Perhaps she had one in Barrett. His letters had perked up over the last few editions. “I don’t mean to contradict you, Daddy, but most eligible fellows have either left for boot camp or soon will.”
While the men discussed upcoming departures, four locals at last count, Hattie and Hawk devoured pie.
“If everyone’s done eating,” Hattie rose and collected the serving platter from the table, “I’ll start on the dishes. There’s a busy agenda on my plate tonight.” By the time she set the crockery on the sideboard, everyone had escaped to the parlor, except for Wilhelm.
“Go join the menfolk.” She tried to shoo him from the kitchen with her hands, but he refused to budge, planting his feet on the rag rug.
“I’m sorry I pried. If recalling and telling your story stirred hurtful memories, that wasn’t my intention.”
“It’s fine. I probably ought to feel shame for airing those sad stories in your presence, but I don’t. You’re like a third brother.” Will possessed a special knack for making her feel better about herself. He reserved judgments, even when someone deserved a negative ruling.
His hazel gaze studied her until she collected a stack of dirty plates. His stare failed to stir an ounce of self-consciousness. They knew each other too well for even a fraction of discomfort.
“I have to say, I certainly don’t see you as a sister.”
What? She turned away, struggling to make sense of his comment. Perhaps it stemmed from being an only child, lacking firsthand knowledge of siblings. Maybe she’d misheard his words.
Either way, she’d probably not sleep a wink. She peeked over her shoulder at one of her oldest friends. The raggedy bracelet she’d braided together out of foxtail weeds during their afternoon break still circled his wrist. He’d begged for the trinket.
“Delwyn Nordeen is a jerk. Only a fool would pick Priscilla Snodgrass over you.”
A strange sensation gurgled in the pit of Hattie’s stomach.
“All women deserve to feel special, particularly you, Hattie.”
What in tarnation did he mean by that? Heat climbed her neck, and she fled up the staircase whispering, “He’s being nice. He’s being Will. He loves Lena.”
CHAPTER FIVE
* * *
The morning state Brigade meeting coincided with visitor’s day at Camp Dodge, which meant Arno waited in the Y.W.C.A. Hostess House for his special guest. Soldier after soldier greeted sweethearts and families amidst pumped handshakes and lingering embraces. But still no Lena.
After a quick scan of the oblong room, Arno zeroed in on Jordane. The man gnawed a fingernail and cased the door’s entrance. He halfway stood as if his guest had finally burst through the entry, but then he plopped onto his chair. Did he wait for a family member or a friend?
Or Hattie?
Lena’s tardiness was typical and forgivable. Even if his little sister rattled on nonstop for the entire afternoon, he’d gladly take it. How long until a furlough back to Split Falls?
He circled the crowd to reach the room’s far side where coffee and spice cake, slapped with vanilla icing, waited. The blended scents drew his thoughts homeward, a regular occurrence.
He glanced at the doorway before he reached the cake. Lena, flanked by Priscilla Snodgrass and Hattie Waltz, strode into the room. Leave it to his sister to not mention two key components regarding today’s call.
He shoved his hands deep into his trouser pockets as he walked toward them. Hattie wore a dress that fit her as snug as a new coat of paint. He stopped when her eyes met his. She was even prettier than at the train station.
Lena flung herself against him, clucking how she’d missed her big brother. Priscilla followed Lena’s lead and nuzzled close in a familiar fashion. The woman’s overpowering perfume made his eyes water.
Jordane had already herded Hattie away, the man’s hand clamped to her elbow. They crossed the room where they sat and smiled at one another. Arno couldn’t look away until Lena tugged him toward a quiet corner, where they snagged three chairs.
“Look at all these men.” Her eyes roved like a hound dog in a smokehouse. “Personally, I’m uninterested, of course, but aren’t the fellas spiffed up nicely, Priscilla? I love the dapper uniforms.”
“Uh-huh.” Nobody spoke to him until Priscilla said, “Is the army treating you fine?” while studying the room’s occupants.
“More than fine.” If he reported the mess hall only served porcupine and skunk for breakfast, dinner, and supper, the preoccupied women probably wouldn’t blink.
“Good, good.” Priscilla patted his sleeve. “Look at Hattie’s fella. He’s a dreamboat.”
Arno grumbled and craned his neck for a better view. Hattie’s dark head teetered too close to the Louisianan’s. “Thought they were just pen pals.”
“Oh, Arno.” Priscilla laughed. “You’ve not changed a speck. You’re still as naïve as ever.”
He wasn’t green, not even a light pear color. But Priscilla liked to toss verbal darts, aiming for vitals. She wore a skimpy dress and a sly grin, pointing at a soldier to her right, then her left. Although she carried a soft side, she hid the evidence six days a week. He bristled, crossing his arms, citing one more reason they’d canceled their courtship.
Karl arrived carrying two glasses of lemonade. “Ladies, may I entice you with a beverage and a tour of the facilities?”
“Yes, please.” Priscilla hopped to her feet. “Can we see the living quarters?” She winked at Lena who laughed.
“Are you coming, Arno?” Lena raised her brows. “We’ve barely spoken two words, and I have loads to tell you.”
“Nah. I’ve seen the joint. You’re not shoving off for hours, go kick your heels.”
Lena latched onto Karl’s bicep, and the threesome swept away, giggles straggling behind.
He should have tagged along and spent every possible minute beside his sister, but Priscilla’s naïve comment stuck in his craw. The last thing he wanted was more criticisms pointed in his direction. But why sit here? Arno shoved to his feet.
Hattie sat alone between him and the door. Minus a hat, sunbeams streaked her brown hair. She gaped at her surroundings until her eyes cut to him, stopping him. He arched one eyebrow, and her lips tipped a smidge upward. That smile held enough promise to start Arno walking again. When he reached her table, he flipped a chair around to straddle it. “You’re a surprise.”
“I thought Lena wrote and told you we’d pay a visit after our meeting.” Skepticism crinkled her straight nose.