94. Getting Back to Normal

Chapter 8

The tall, blond, young man with the old eyes came walking down the antiseptic smelling hall toward the five men in the waiting room. He finished buttoning his shirt cuff and accepted a glass of orange juice from the petite dark-haired nurse wearing the routine uniform and tall white cap. He smiled and thanked her, but continued on, taking a swallow of the cool liquid. He had the feeling that by the time the war was over, and Craig, Terry, and Actor were no longer going on missions, he would develop a strong dislike for orange juice.

Garrison looked up at his kid brother. "You staying, Kell?"

"Hell no," replied the teenager. "They know where I am. Right now I don't want to be found and sent back in."

"I'll drink to that," agreed Casino.

Kelly Garrison looked wryly at the glass that was still mostly full of the citrus juice. "A little vodka might go good with this," he muttered.

"I don't think they'll let you take that with you," said Craig. "And we're going back to the Mansion. We'll pick Terry up tomorrow."

Kelly gave a snort of amusement. "You better wait a little longer. Sis isn't planning on staying here either. She's getting dressed."

Garrison looked at their medical person. Actor smiled in amusement and shook his head.

"She'll be all right," assured the con man. He looked around at the other men. "There are enough of us to look after her. And after a two hour drive, she will most likely sleep until tomorrow morning. As you know by now, it takes a while for the transfusion to kick in."

"Great," said Casino in disgust. "That means she isn't cookin'."

"Give her a break, Mate," objected Goniff. "It's not like you don't know how to fry up Spam and eggs, now is it?"

The door to Terry's room opened and the girl came out, limping badly enough to hang onto the wall for support.

"Somebody grab a wheelchair for her," ordered Garrison as he started down the hall to meet her.

While the others ran to meet her, Chief trotted to the nurses station and took a wheelchair without asking. He hurried back up the hall, the same little dark-haired nurse scurrying behind him. Actor had the girl by one arm and Casino held the other. They eased her down into the seat.

The little nurse elbowed her way through the men. "Miss Garrison, what do you think you are doing?"

"Signing out," said Terry. "I've worked in hospitals and been a patient in this one and others enough to not want to stay." She nodded toward the men. "I have babysitters. Not the first time. Won't be the last time."

Craig understood her outlook. He stepped up to the nurse. "We can manage her," he said. "Is there any paperwork that needs to be signed?"

"I will have to ask her doctor," said the now flustered woman. She turned and hurried back to the nurses station.

"Get her out into the car," said Garrison quietly.

Actor remained behind as the other men practically ran down the hall with Terry in the wheelchair.

"Shall we?" Actor motioned for Garrison to move toward the nurse's station. "You are her brother, lead on."

Craig muttered something, probably impolite, under his breath and walked down the hall. The grinning Italian remained a few steps behind him.

The nurse was still on the telephone trying to reach the doctor. Another, slightly older, blonde nurse stood up in front of the two men.

"We don't have discharge instructions yet," she said with a smile.

Actor smiled back at her with charm. He rattled off the typical discharge instructions for the wound care and blood loss.

Now Garrison smiled. "He was a doctor in a previous life," he said. "If we have any questions, we know the telephone number here. Thank you for taking care of my sister." He turned to Actor. "Come, Victor. We need to go now."

The con man followed him toward the door. He hadn't been able to get the name of the blonde. He liked blondes. So it was he did not see the satisfied grin on the Lieutenant's face.

Garrison knew, if given a minute more, he would have had the devil's own time prying Actor away from the nurse's station.

"Thank you for promoting me," said Actor moving up beside him. "I never received the letters behind my name."

"You know that. And I know that. But she might not know that," said Craig with a wicked grin. He still wondered at the crazy friendship between his sister and the ladies' man.

"Victor?"

GGGGG

Terry rolled over and looked at the alarm clock on her nightstand. It was five-thirty, and by the silence and occasional snores from down the hall, she figured it was in the morning. She pushed the bedcovers aside and carefully slid her legs off the mattress. Cautiously, she sat up. The room didn't spin, so that was a good thing. The leg was stiff and sore, but not unbearable . . . yet. She slipped her feet into her slippers which had been conveniently placed within reach, took a deep breath and pushed herself upright. The room was still unmoving, so she slowly walked toward the bathroom. Reaching it without going face-splat on the floor meant things were okay. On the way back to the bed, she noted the ornate cane leaning against her desk. She shook her head and smiled.

Terry got dressed and silently let herself out into the hall. Hanging on to the banister with one hand and using the cane with the other, she took the stairs down to the main floor, one at a time. Coffee. She needed coffee. That was the first order of business when she reached the kitchen.

Garrison walked from his room into the hall and looked both ways. All the doors were still closed, though it was almost six o'clock. Coffee. He needed coffee. His run was undoubtedly postponed as it had begun a cold drizzle of rain as they reached the turn off the London road, and it was still at it from the look he had taken out of his window. Craig bypassed Terry's bedroom, not wanting to disturb his sister if she was still asleep.

He went to his office and flipped on the light, but did not go inside. As he rounded the corner of the stairs into the dining area, he noticed the sliver of light under the kitchen door. Somebody was up. Craig wasn't surprised to find it was Terry. She was filling the coffee pot with water and the hob had been lit already.

"What are you doing up," Garrison asked.

Terry gave him a wry raised eyebrow. "You know I can't stand to stay in bed. I need to be busy."

Craig took the pot from her. "Well, be busy sitting down. I'll finish starting the coffee."

While he readied to coffee, Terry sat.

"Craig, I don't understand myself. I woke up during the night and realized I don't know what happened to Angel." With his back to her, she could not see the grin he had at that.

"Sis, your oil and gas gauges were low. I'm not surprised you didn't know what was going on," he said.

Leaving the coffee pot on the back hob to perk, Garrison pulled a chair out at the end of the kitchen table and sat to have his first cigarette of the day. His sister was frowning.

"What kind of mother am I going to be if I don't remember I have a child until the middle of the night and don't know where she is?" asked the girl in anguish.

"Terry," objected Garrison. "You were running on empty in more than one way. The child wasn't yours and you knew the guys had her with them."

She didn't seem to buy his explanation. "So where is she?"

Craig talked calmly and matter-of-factly to her. "That Mrs. Erickson from the Refugee Children's Home came and got her. She'll be well taken care of."

"Good," said the girl, satisfied. "Thanks, Brother."

Garrison looked at the carved wooden cane with the silver lion's head on top, leaning against the sink. "Actor up?" he asked.

"I don't think so," said Terry. "It was in my room when I got up."

Taking a puff on his cigarette, Craig looked at his sister. "What were you planning on making for breakfast?"

"What did you guys eat last night?" asked the girl. "Spam and eggs?"

"How did you guess?" laughed Garrison.

"Okay," said Terry slowly. "By now the bread is probably stale. If there are enough eggs in the hen house this morning, I'll use those. Otherwise, powdered eggs. How does baked French toast sound to you? I have a can of Golden Syrup. The guys like that. A little cinnamon, a little sugar, soaked in egg batter and baked." She looked questioningly at him for a reaction.

"We haven't had that in a while," nodded Garrison. "It sounds good."

"Could you go check the henhouse?" Terry asked.

Craig rose and walked around the table to the utility room, grabbed the egg basket in passing, and let himself outside. Terry waited until she was sure he was halfway to the hen enclosure before pushing herself up from the chair and moving into the pantry. The men tended to coddle her. While she appreciated their concern, it wasn't helping her get back to normal.

She grabbed a small bag of flour, another of sugar, a tin of evaporated milk, the box of powdered eggs just in case, the can of Golden Syrup, and brought them back to the kitchen. It was a little heavy on her arm, but she managed. They went atop the table while she checked the remains of the bread loaf in the bread box. It was dry, but not moldy. That came out and was slid across the table top. She picked up the cutting board and a bread knife and headed back to her chair, pausing to turn the gas on in the oven. A bowl was grabbed just in time for the woman to retake her seat before her brother returned with a whole two eggs in the basket.

Garrison held the basket out. "The hens are cold." His eyes roved over the items on the table and back to his sister in an accusatory manner.

"Maybe I should knit them sweaters for the winter," she said innocently.

Craig couldn't help but chuckle as he set the basket on the other end of the table. "Yeah, I can just see how well that would go over at the Springfield General Store." His voice took on the tone of one of the old ladies back home, "That Garrison girl is making clothes for her chickens. Have you ever heard of anything so crazy? Who would make sweaters for farm animals?"

Terry grinned. Secretly she was of the same opinion, but couldn't help but add, "They make horse blankets."

Footsteps could be heard coming down the stairs. The siblings straightened their faces and pretended to be serious.

"Coffee, please," requested Terry.

Garrison took coffee cups from the cupboard and lined them up on his end of the table. He picked up the pot and poured into five of the cups.

Chief was the first to enter the kitchen. He picked up one cup and took a sip. "Thanks, Warden."

Garrison nodded. "I don't think we are running today. It's a little wet out there."

"Yeah, I noticed that," said the scout in disgust. "All it ever does here is rain." He leaned against the counter.

Goniff came bouncing in next. "Tea?" he asked hopefully.

"Sorry, I forgot," said Terry. "Coffee."

"That's all right, Love," he said. "I can make me own." The gamin blond took the empty cup and set about getting things ready to make a 'cuppa.'

Casino was in next. "What's for breakfast?" he asked, grabbing the fourth cup of coffee.

"Fried Spam and eggs," said Terry deadpan.

"Oh, no," objected the safecracker. "I made that last night." He took in the items on the table. "Cute, Sister," he said. "What are yuh making?"

"French toast," Terry replied.

"Better'n Spam and eggs again."

The girl shook her head.

GGG

They had just finished breakfast when the telephone rang. Garrison took his coffee and went to answer it in his office. He didn't return right away.

"How much you wanna bet another mission," grumbled Casino.

Even Terry's lip curled at that thought.

"Let us wait and see what the Warden says," suggested Actor reasonably, hoping Casino was wrong. He took a sip of his cooling coffee.

A few minutes later, the Lieutenant came back to the dining room.

"Major Richards is coming out here," he said. "They looked at the microfilm I gave to the courier at the hospital. He wants to talk to us."

"Yeah, like what did we do wrong?" said Chief, becoming as pessimistic as the safecracker.

Garrison shook his head. "We'll see."

"Another mission?" asked the con man.

"Didn't sound like it."

Chief and Goniff washed the dirty dishes up and Terry did not object in the least. Garrison went to his office to finish up writing his report on the mission. Actor took his chair with a book and Terry took Chief's, leg up on Actor's ottoman. Casino as always, sat at the game table with a deck of cards and played solitaire. The morning went by slowly, and no Major Richards.

Noon came and was going. Terry went back to the kitchen, sliced the remains of the bread, put a thin slice of cheese between every two slices and made grilled cheese sandwiches. She came out to the common room with a plate stacked with the finished sandwiches and set it down on the middle of the table as the sound of a car engine reached them.

Chief was watching out the window. "Major Richards," he announced. "Man knows when to show up for a free meal."

Actor shook his head. "I imagine 'the man' is used to something finer than cheese sandwiches."

Garrison came to the door of his office, slipping his arms into the sleeves of his jacket. "Do you have enough for him too?" he asked his sister.

"Yeah, if you guys keep it down to one apiece." replied Terry. She had not grabbed a sandwich for herself and decided she would skip lunch.

Garrison went to the door and opened it as the Major reached the landing. He gave a salute to the superior officer which was barely returned as Richards moved past the younger man, into the game room.

The Commando officer's nose twitched, and he looked at the plate of dwindling sandwiches. "Ah, grilled cheese. My favorite sandwich." He did not see the amused eyes that went to Actor regarding the con man's earlier comment. "Would there be an extra one of those?" asked the Major.

"I believe there is," replied Terry with a smile.

Richards detoured to the table to pick up a sandwich and walked into Garrison's office. He took a seat in the Lieutenant's usual chair at the table and proceeded to eat his sandwich. Garrison pulled his desk chair over to the table and Actor brought one over for Teresa.

"Well, Lieutenant," said Richards, "This obviously did not go as planned."

Casino did not wait for Garrison to respond before asking in his usual belligerent tone, "So, what is it we were supposed to have done wrong this time?"

"Casino," objected Garrison sternly.

"Apparently it was nothing your group did that caused the problem," replied Richards. He turned his attention to Garrison. "The information on the microfilm was most helpful. It was a shame you were not able to get pictures inside the factory, but we have information from our informants that quite a bit of the machinery is already in place to begin production."

"So what did blow our cover, Sir?" asked Garrison.

"Our intelligence picked up some transmissions between the officer at the party and Berlin. It seems there was a Leutnant who worked for Field Marshal Keital keeping records of the people involved with the project. The General Actor was portraying had impeccable records, but was not on the list we knew nothing about. As the Field Marshal was informed of the General's plans to visit the factory in the morning, the trap was set up." He looked around at the people in the room. "I wonder how you were able to get away. But, having been in with you before, I assume it was something creative."

Garrison shook his head. "Actually it was a timely bombing raid."

The Major nodded. "Well, even if they decide to move the location of the factory, the equipment cannot be moved because there will be another bombing raid tonight." He smiled. "Well, done, Gentlemen." He turned his attention to Terry. "You were shot saving a child, I was told."

Terry shrugged. "I couldn't very well leave her to be bombed."

Terry kicked Casino's leg before he could say anything. Her left leg wound objected to the sharp movement.

Actor smiled, "With the types of missions we go on, it is not surprising something like this would happen."

Richards turned to Terry. "I trust this injury will keep you from your other business also?" he broached.

"Going over to the Continent, yes," agreed the girl. "My leg is on the injured reserve list, but my mind still works . . . somewhat." She suppressed a smile. "Major, would you like to stay for dinner?"

Used to the teasing that had evolved between them, the Major smiled. "And what is for dinner?"

Terry smiled back at him. "A casserole with some ham and whatever I can find is ripe in the garden."

"I think I would like to try that," said Richards. "I trust that was an invitation."

"Of course, Kevin."

8