Hildie fought back the tears. "I'm glad you came."

"We wouldn't have missed it." Papa hugged her hard. "Keep saying your prayers and reading your Bible." He patted her back and let her go.

"I will, Papa." She wrapped her arms around Mama and hugged her. "Thank you for coming. It meant the world to me." She felt Mama's hand on her back, and then she withdrew from Hildie's embrace.

"You did it, Hildemara Rose." Her smile seemed a little sad. "Ihope the life you've chosen for yourself makes you happy."

Hildie leaned forward and kissed Mama's cheek. "I guess I'm about to find out, aren't I?"

Dear Rosie,Hildemara Rose is now a full-fledged nurse. She was the top student in her class and had the honor of leading the procession. And she did look like Florence Nightingale in her white uniform and navy blue cape. My girl stood so tall with her head high! I could imagine her standing on a battlefield with her lamp held high, giving the wounded hope.She is not a timid child anymore. My girl knows her place in the world. I am so proud of her, Rosie. The evening would have been perfect if not for the speaker, some long-winded doctor who didn't want to leave the podium. I had a dreadful headache and it was difficult to concentrate on what he had to say. And then the press of people made the pain worse.I wanted to tell Hildemara how proud she made me, but I couldn't get the words out. Niclas spoke for both of us. I asked if she was coming home, hoping I would have time and opportunity to talk with her, but she has already been hired by Merritt Hospital and will be on official duty long before you receive this letter. Not only that. She and her friend Jasia Boutacoff have found a house to rent. She is a woman now, with a life of her own.

Hildemara moved in with Boots a week after joining the Merritt nursing staff. The house wasn't far from the hospital, so she walked every day she worked. The house felt like a palace after the small dorm bedroom, and quiet after the sleeping porch she'd shared with dozens of nurses coming in and going out. The house had a few drawbacks: a big yard to care for and a large fruit-producing lemon tree. Mr. Holmes, their next-door neighbor, said the previous tenant had driven nails in the trunk in hope of killing the tree. "Must have given it a boost of something!" Hildie sacked up lemons every week and dropped them off at the hospital kitchen.

"We've got to do something about the yard." Hildie worried. "We're going to be the neighborhood slobs."

"Who cares? It's the landlord's problem, not ours. He said he'd come by and do it when he has time."

The landlord only came on the day rent was due, and by then Hildie and Boots had learned the roof leaked and the kitchen sink had a habit of stopping up. Mr. Dawson said he'd send someone to fix it.

"When hell freezes over, he'll fix it." Boots called on a friend to do it, then sent a bill to the landlord. When he didn't pay, she deducted it from the next month's rent. When Mr. Dawson complained, Boots stood toe-to-toe with him in front of the house.

Neighbors came out to listen. Boots called Mr. Holmes to witness that Mr. Dawson had agreed to her deducting a portion of the rent for repairs. When she came inside the house, she slapped her hands together as though dusting the man off. Hildie laughed. "You remind me of Mama!"

Finally, embarrassed by the state of the front yard, Hildie asked Mr. Holmes if she could borrow his lawn mower and hedge clippers. She remembered how Papa had disdained people who "let their land go" and didn't want to be the dump of the block.

"Sorry." Mr. Holmes shook his head. "I don't loan tools, Miss Waltert. Learned the hard way people don't return them."

"I'd buy a lawn mower and clippers if I could, but I don't have the money."

"What do you do for a living?"

"We're both nurses at Merritt."

He peered over the fence at the yard, rubbed his chin, and shook his head. "Sure is a mess. Tell you what. I've got an old mower under the house. I'll sharpen the blades and grease her up a bit and you can have her. I'll give you my wife's old clippers. It's clear that place you're living in needs work. How much rent is Dawson charging you girls?" When Hildie told him, he whistled. "No wonder you don't have anything left over. He sure saw you coming, didn't he?"

Mr. Holmes brought the lawn mower and clippers over the next Saturday. "All sharp and ready to go."

After an hour, Hildie sat on the front steps to rest. Mr. Holmes peered over the fence and asked how the lawn mower was working. "It's working fine, Mr. Holmes, but I should've asked if you had a sickle." Hildie wiped sweat from her brow.

He laughed. "Looks better than it did."

"Thanks for the mower and clippers, Mr. Holmes. I'll keep you supplied with lemons."

"Call me George. And as for lemons, I already take what I want off the branches hanging over my fence."

32.

1939.

Germany Invades Poland Hildemara read the headline over morning coffee and a plate of scrambled eggs. Boots shuffled in, wearing her slippers and robe, still bleary-eyed from her date the night before.

"Oh, my head." Boots groaned, sliding cautiously onto a chair across the table. "I don't even know what time I got in last night."

"After two in the morning."

"No wonder I feel like a truck ran over me."

Hildie folded the paper back to read the second-page continuation. "Have you seen this?"

Boots rubbed her temples. "Heard it on the radio last night."

Papa had worried about this kind of thing happening. German relatives had written glowing letters about the meteoric rise of Adolf Hitler and the National Socialist German Workers' Party. Papa said a man with such messianic charisma might prove to be a devil in disguise. Mama thought the Great War would end all wars in Europe. Papa said man's nature never changes.

Boots made a dismissive gesture. "I hope America stays out of it." Apparently she had other things on her mind besides what was happening in Europe. "I saw a new guy in the cafeteria yesterday." She raked her fingers through her curly black hair. "Good-looking, tall, great body, nice eyes, a smile to make a girl's knees wobble."

Hildie looked up from the paper. "Did you make a date with him?"

"Nope. He's an orderly. I only go after doctors, lawyers, and Indian chiefs. You might like him, though."

Hildie just looked at her. They'd had this discussion before. Boots accused her of becoming a social outcast. Hildie said she had enough of a social life with the nurses and her patients at work.

"Flo, you're going to become like Miss Brown."

"And what's wrong with Miss Brown?"

Boots stood, shaking her head. "Gotta get ready." She opened the bedroom door and turned back to Hildie. "I'm going out after work. Don't wait up for me."

Hildie laughed. "I never do." She had the house to herself more than she had expected, especially when it came to yard work and doing dishes. She didn't mind the quiet. When she had a day off, she slept in, caught up on laundry, housekeeping, and yard work. She kept up correspondence with Cloe, who had moved to Los Angeles, or wrote to Mama and Papa. Mama wrote back once a month, giving a chronology of what had happened on the farm. When Hildie had Sunday off, she went to church.

Hildie was sitting in the cafeteria the next evening, finishing her supper and thinking about Boots and her comment about Miss Brown, when she felt someone looking at her. She glanced up and saw a young man standing in line, waiting for the cook to hand him his dinner. He fit Boots's description of the "new guy" she'd seen. When he smiled at her, Hildie looked down quickly. Flustered, she picked up her tray, dumped the contents, and left the cafeteria.

The next day when she came on the ward, she saw him helping lift one of her patients from bed to gurney for transporting him to surgery. He had an athletic build like Bernie. Football player? When he smiled at her again, she felt herself blush. Embarrassed, she looked away quickly and busied herself with paperwork at the nurses' station. She kept her eyes down as he went by with her patient.

As she stood in line for lunch, someone came up behind her. "Isaw you on the medical ward this morning."

She glanced at him and returned her attention to the cafeteria menu. Picking up her order, she headed for a table in the far corner of the room, where she could be alone. As much as she laughed over Boots's disdain for orderlies, she knew there was an unspoken rule about nurses fraternizing with them. What was it the General had said? "Laborers work with hands. Professionals work with hands, head, and heart." "Laborers work with hands. Professionals work with hands, head, and heart."

"Mind if I sit with you?" When Hildie just stared, openmouthed, he set his tray down and took the seat opposite hers. "Isthere an unspoken rule around here that a nurse can't say morethan three words to an orderly?"

Did he read minds? "No."

"One word. Hardly an improvement."

His smile did odd things to her insides. "I don't usually strike up conversations with people I don't know. I only saw you yesterday for the first time."

"That's better." He grinned, which made her heart do flips and flutters. "I'm a junior at UC Berkeley with eyes on medical school. I thought it might be a good idea to work in a hospital and get a different view on my future career."

"Good for you."

"I'm working in the psych ward for the next month."

"I hear it can be a real riot in there."

He laughed. "Good one." He was even more handsome and appealing when he laughed.

"I wasn't joking."

"Oh." He looked at her, really looked this time, and she could feel the heat coming up again, along with tingles and other feelings she had never had before that made her feel vulnerable. "Miss Waltert." He held out his hand, a big strong hand like Bernie's only without the calluses. "I'm Cale Arundel, but my friends call me Trip." When his fingers closed around hers, heat surged through her. She pulled her hand away.

"Do you like movies, Miss Waltert?"

"Who doesn't?"

"How about Friday night?"

She glanced up sharply. "Are you asking me for a date?"

"You look surprised. Yes, I'm asking you for a date."

She looked around, disturbed by his attention. She had never been asked out by a boy, let alone a man. Why would someone like Cale Arundel be interested in her? "I'm on duty."

"When are you off duty?"

"I'd have to check the schedule."

He crossed his forearms on the table and leaned forward, gazing at her with faint amusement. "Is it because I'm a lowly orderly that you hesitate?"

"I don't know you."

"I don't know you either, but I'd like the opportunity to get to know you. Hence, the invitation."

She looked at her watch. "I need to get back. Excuse me." She grabbed her tray, dumped the contents in the garbage can near the door, and left the tray on top. Her heartbeat didn't slow until she returned to the medical ward.

"What happened to you?" one of the nurses asked.

"Nothing. Why? Am I late?"

"No. You just look a little flushed and excited about something."

Cale Arundel came on her ward later that afternoon. The moment she spotted him, she grabbed a clipboard and ducked into the linen closet to check off the list of sheets, pillowcases, towels, and washcloths. One of the nurses peered in. "Someone's waiting for you at the nurses' station."

Cale walked toward her. "I came for an aspirin."

"An aspirin?" Nurses sat, heads together, whispering and grinning at her. She glared at Cale. "You came all the way here from the psych ward to find an aspirin?"

"I didn't think you'd loan me a straitjacket."

She didn't smile. She looked pointedly at the other nurses and then back at him. Maybe he'd get the hint and stop providing grist for the gossip mill. He noticed, too, but shrugged it off. "People talk. So what?"

So what? It was her reputation at stake. Embarrassed, angry, she headed down the hallway. He followed. When she stopped out of sight of the other nurses, he stepped in front of her. "You look ready to shoot me, Miss Waltert." It was her reputation at stake. Embarrassed, angry, she headed down the hallway. He followed. When she stopped out of sight of the other nurses, he stepped in front of her. "You look ready to shoot me, Miss Waltert."

"Why are you here?"

"Why do you think?"

"I have no idea!"

"I checked your schedule. You're off on Friday. I'd like to take you to dinner and a movie."

No one had ever asked her out, and the thought of this handsome young man, orderly or not, being interested in her seemed beyond comprehension. "I have no intention of being the brunt of someone's idea of a joke."

"Why would I joke about it?"

"No!"

"How do you know I'm not husband material unless you get to know me first?"

She blanched. "What did you say?"

"Boots said you wouldn't go out with anyone unless he was husband material."

"I'll kill her." Hildemara felt her face go hot. "And I'm supposed to believe you're looking for a wife?"

"I never gave it much thought until two days ago, at 12:15 to be exact, when you walked into the cafeteria."

Did he really think she'd believe such hogwash? "I'll put out the word, Mr. Arundel. You'll have women lined up and on their knees begging."

He leaned so close that she could smell his aftershave. "Keep it to yourself. I'm not interested in anyone else. Dinner and a movie. I promise I won't lay a finger on you, if that's what worries you." He raised his hand in solemn vow. "I swear I'm a gentleman."

"If you aren't, I have a big brother who'll beat the living tar out of you."

He laughed. "I take that as a yes. Friday. Six o'clock sharp." He shoved the swinging doors open and walked through. "See you then."

"Wait a minute!"

A patient buzzer went off. She pushed the doors open, but Cale had already gone into the stairwell. Frustrated, she hurried back down the hall. She'd only make matters worse by tracking him down in the hospital.

Boots! She'd tell her roommate to give him a message. She'd tell her roommate to give him a message.