Free Dancing in the Rain by Amanda Harte Page A

honest thumbs?”
    “No.” As she glanced at his hands, another blush rose to her cheeks. “That is …” Carolyn swallowed deeply, then blurted out the words, “I don’t know …”
    “You mean your grandmother really didn’t teach you how to judge thumbs and mules’ ears?”
    Carolyn shook her head. “My grandmother didn’t teach me anything. Both of my grandmothers died before I was born.”
    Her response surprised him, as she must have known it would. Once again, Clothespin Carolyn had done the unpredictable. “Then all those granny stories …”
    “Were just that: stories.”
    “Let me guess. You invented the grandmother and her homilies on an impulse.” That seemed to be the way Carolyn got through life, doing whatever seemed best at the time.
    “Exactly.” Judging from the expression on her face, she had no regrets, other than the fact that he’d revealed her deception. “I wanted to make the soldiers laugh.” Her eyes were somber as she continued. “Haven’t you noticed that no one thinks young women are funny? If I had told the same stories and admitted they were mine, no one would have been amused. So I invented a wise old grandmother.”
    It wasn’t, Dwight had to admit, a bad idea. “Let me look at your hands.” Obviously puzzled by the request, she held them out for his inspection. They were small, almost delicate, with graceful fingers. And one of those fingers bore an engagement ring. Dwight started to frown, then stopped himself. Of course, she was engaged. He’d known that from the first day she’d assisted him.
    “Is something wrong?” she asked.
    He nodded solemnly. “I was right.” He paused for effect, then added, “You don’t have honest thumbs.”
    Carolyn’s eyes widened in obvious surprise. “You made a joke, Doctor Hollins.” There was a note of wonderment in her voice.
    “Why, so I did.” Dwight looked down at the man on the stretcher. It hadn’t hurt either him or his patient. Maybe Carolyn was right. Maybe humor had its place.
    In her dream, someone was ill, violently ill. Carolyn turned and pulled the pillow over her head, willing the dream to go away. But the sounds continued, retching punctuated with soft moans of pain. It was no dream! Carolyn’s eyes flew open and she sat up, tossing the pillow aside as she realized that Helen was in agony.
    “What’s wrong?” she asked, lighting a lamp. The only thing worse than being sick was being sick in the dark. She wondered how long her roommate had been huddled over a basin. In Carolyn’s dream, the sounds had gone on forever, but dream time, Carolyn knew, often bore no relation to real time. Perhaps it had been only a few seconds.
    “Do you think the fish was spoiled?” Carolyn had never acquired a taste for fish and had refused last night’s main course.
    Helen shook her head, then wiped her face and turned to Carolyn. “I’m not sick,” she said with a weak smile. Though she was pale, her brown eyes sparkled with what looked like happiness. “Promise you won’t tell anyone.”
    Carolyn nodded, remembering how, less than a day earlier, she had extracted the same promise from Dwight. Whatever secret Helen wanted her to keep, she suspected it was more important than an imaginary grandmother.
    Helen reached for the pitcher they filled each evening and poured herself a glass of water. When she’d taken a sip, the smile she gave Carolyn was radiant. “I’m pregnant,” she announced.
    Pregnant! No wonder Helen had been sick so many mornings. Carolyn had attributed that and Helen’s complaints of fatigue to the schedule they both kept. But Helen’s malady wasn’t a malady at all. Instead, it was a reason for celebration. In the midst of this horrible war, a new life had begun.
    “That’s wonderful!” Carolyn hugged her friend, then studied her with new eyes. Helen was to be a mother. How exciting! “You must be thrilled.”
    “I am.” Helen smiled again as she cranked the shutters open. The