Free A Memory Between Us by Sarah Sundin Page A

zone.”
    “But hospitals are covered by the Geneva Conventions. Air evacuation isn’t. It’s performed in cargo planes. Cargo goes into the combat zone and casualties go out. Because the planes carry cargo, they can’t be marked with the Red Cross, and they’re legitimate targets for the enemy.”
    Ruth gripped her hands behind her back and forced a slow breath so she wouldn’t hyperventilate. Her application had taken almost two months to arrive, and who knew how long it would take to be processed. Aunt Pauline’s last letter complained of her sacrifices and the things she did without. Ruth couldn’t afford delays from an apprehensive chief nurse.
    “Ma’am, I joined the Army Nurse Corps aware of the risk. We’re at war. Our men face the enemy without question. The least I can do is get the wounded out of danger, care for them, and take them home. I believe I would be an excellent flight nurse. I have the nursing skills, the ability to work independently, the desire to fly, and I am not afraid to be close to combat.”
    Lieutenant MacKinnon’s lips pursed together.
    Ruth clasped her hands in front of her stomach in a position just short of begging. “Please. Other than becoming a nurse, I’ve never wanted anything more than this. I need a recommendation from a highly respected nurse, which is why I came to you. I know your recommendation would carry weight.”
    The lips relaxed, but the eyes remained narrow.
    Ruth offered a smile and a shrug. “Besides, my chance of acceptance is slim, isn’t it?”
    “Well, there is that.”
    “So, please—”
    “All right.” Lieutenant MacKinnon heaved a sigh and picked up the application. “I can’t fight patriotism. What do you need?”
    Ruth let out a puff of relief. “A letter. A letter, please. They need to know about my work habits and skills. Oh, and they also—they need a statement about my—my morality.” Her throat pressed shut. A nurse was held to the highest standards and could be dismissed for morals violations. Somehow Ruth had always fooled everyone.
    “Lieutenant Doherty?” The chief nurse gazed at Ruth over the top of her glasses. “Did your mother ever tell you to guard your reputation as a treasure?”
    “Yes, ma’am,” she choked out.
    “Be glad you listened. Everyone talks of your high morals. This letter will be easy to write.” She rubbed the bridge of her nose. “And very difficult. I’d hate to lose you.”
    “Thank you, ma’am.” Ruth saluted and escaped, her heart straining against its iron shell.
    High morals? She set a brisk pace down the pathway. Ten-Penny Doherty? High morals?
    Ruth wanted to scream, and for a moment she thought she had, until she raised her head and saw a squadron of squat-nosed fighter planes—P-47 Thunderbolts, Jack called them.
    She stretched one hand high as if she could grab hold and climb away from what she had done, from who she was.

10
    Bury St. Edmunds
    Monday, August 2, 1943
    Jack glanced up Northgate Street to the red brick train station with its white Victorian scrollwork. Despite the fog, he had a complete view of the roundabout and he’d spot Ruth no matter which street she took downtown. Time for the next phase of the mission.
    His plan had four stages. First came takeoff when he’d established a friendship with Ruth in the hospital.
    The second stage, assembly—the group picnics—had gone well. In fact, yesterday’s picnic exceeded expectations. They had all walked around the lake near the hospital, the one shaped like the squiggle over the N in Spanish—Ray would know what it was called. Charlie and May lagged, but Ruth stayed by his side, listened with compassion to his tales of the ravages of Blitz Week, and accepted his nudges with his jokes. Her bright laughter and smile goaded him into the third phase of his plan.
    Time to cross the Channel and spend time alone with her, which wouldn’t be easy. Ruth’s defenses resembled the flak batteries on the European coast. Jack