Emily - December 1944
It was another bitter day in Holland. Emily repeated her gratitude like a mantra that grew less convincing each day. She was thankful to have a fire warmed canvas roof over her head even if it did smell like rotted meat and stale alcohol. She was thankful to have a purpose even if it was far from what she was trained to do.
Emily wandered the aisles of a medical tent collecting soiled linens for the basket under her arm. She was doing one last round of the tent to see if there were spare rags or pillow cases to send to the wash. As she meandered down one row of restless men she passed a familiar face.
"Joe?" she exclaimed. "Joe!" she dropped down beside the cot where her friend lay looking like a bored kid in church.
His expression softened slightly when he saw her, "hi doll," he croaked out in his husky voice.
"What're you doing here?" Emily was thrilled to see her friend after what had felt like ages. "Wait, what happened?" her tone changed.
Joe chuckled as he watched her eyes scan his body for the worst of it, "I'm fine. It's my arm," he explained. Joe's right arm was bound to his body with a strip of cloth. "Seriously, I'm fine. That other nurse said I would be," Joe gruffly soothed Emily's apparent concern.
"Would," Emily emphasized, "you're not fine yet. Can I get you anything? Anything to make you feel more comfortable?"
"Nah," Joe tried to lift himself slightly and winced, "I'm good, I'm good."
"Don't move like that!" Emily scolded, "I've got work to do but once I'm done with this load I'm coming to check on you again."
"I-," Joe began to say.
"I'll be back shortly!" Emily walked away without giving him any time to protest.
Emily joined Marwa in the laundry area where the qualified nurse was collecting fresh linens.
"You know that man?" Marwa asked looking over her shoulder as she stacked off-white sheets in her arms.
"Yeah," Emily smiled sadly, "he has a proclivity for getting hit."
"He's lucky he's not dead yet," Marwa said.
"No kidding," Emily agreed, "hopefully this is the last time."
"Knock on wood," Marwa reached to tap the frame of the shelter.
Emily chuckled, "I'm not superstitious."
Marwa widened her eyes in a warning look as she exited the shelter. Emily smiled to herself, it felt good to smile, they were so rare these days. As much as she hated that Joe was wounded it was good to see him. Surely Marwa wouldn't fault her to take some time to talk to him. It wasn't like the intelligence staff would need her at all. Things were somewhat at a standstill as the men struggled to hold the line.
Emily could only imagine what that front was like. Her only exposure was through the mangled and tormented men who rolled back on jeeps in various states of pain.
"Hello, I'm back," Emily said in a lilted voiced coming up to Joe.
"Welcome back," Joe scooted around on his narrow cot in an attempt to make room for her.
"No, no, don't move, I'll sit here," Emily patted his blanketed leg as she perched on the edge. The cot tilted suddenly under her weight and she stood up in shock causing the cot to drop back down loudly.
"Oh! Sorry!" she exclaimed, her face blushed red with embarrassment.
Joe chuckled, "here," he patted her lower back to lead her to sit where he had made room by his legs. Once she was settled Joe asked, "so, how you doin'?"
"I should be asking you that!"
"You can see how I'm doin'," Joe gestured with his good arm, "on the mend."
"Clearly," Emily said sarcastically. "No, I'm doing well I guess."
"What've you been doing around here?"
Emily sighed, "Mostly helping out here, with the wounded. Not too much cartography work honestly."
"Maps?"
"Right."
"We have been in the same place for a while," Joe allowed himself a smirk.
"You know better than anyone. How are things out there?"
A frown flitted across Joe's face, "we're managing."
"Hows everyone doing? George? Frank?"
"They're good, they're alive."
Emily nodded in relief, "good, good. I guess if anything had happened they would've shown up here."
"Or the church."
"Mm," Emily murmured, she'd heard about the church that was an emergency refuge for the front line. Joe and Emily sat in silence as the weight of their world hung heavy over them for a moment.
"Talk to me about something other than this goddamn war," Joe lolled his head against his pillow, "what's the hot news around camp?"
"So this is why you're such good friends with George," Emily narrowed her eyes at him playfully.
Joe cracked a half-smile, he shrugged.
"Honestly, nothing interesting," Emily said.
"Okay, well tell me then what's life look like for you if we make it out of here alive?" Joe asked.
"Well," Emily said, "frankly, I have no idea."
Joe cocked his head on his pillow. Those dark eyes bore into her, seeing right through her just as they always did. Suddenly, Emily felt the words in her head begin to pour out.
"I don't know anymore, Joe. I don't know if I'll stick with the military - if I'll even have the chance to - or if I want to have a family."
"Why not both?" Joe's ignorance was reminiscent of Nixon's. Emily's heart fluttered at the thought of him.
"It's not that simple. I want a husband, I want a family, but what husband will support me, or let me, have a career."
"Let you?" Joe's face twisted in confusion.
Emily sighed, "you're gonna hate me for this."
Joe raised his eyebrows in expectation, "continue," he said.
Emily put on the best impression of her mothers voice, "a lady like me doesn't need to work. It's common."
"Pfft," Joe exclaimed, "I didn't realize you were the Queen of England."
Emily smirked, "not quite. But a society lady. The only acceptable work is in the church or with other philanthropies."
"You rich people are all the same."
"What do you mean?"
"Some people gotta work, even if they are a wife or got kids at home."
"I know," Emily said.
"It is possible to do both."
Emily exhaled, "I don't know if it is. The work life balance is just the tip of the iceberg."
"Why not? Who're you plannin' on marrying that won't let you work if you want?"
"I don't even know if I'll be able to get married," she said cryptically. It was Nixon on her mind. The truth of Emily's torment was becoming clear; a mistress was not a wife. And she was this close to committing to becoming a mistress if that's what it took to be with him.
"What're you on about?" Joe eyed Emily suspiciously.
"Joe," Emily hesitated, "I, well," she trailed off.
"Out with it," Joe said firmly.
"What if I've fallen in love with a married man?" Emily couldn't help but look down in shame.
"So?" Joe said. Emily looked up in surprise.
"You've fallen in love with a married man, and?"
"I can't have a family with a married man."
Joe licked his lips in thought, "do you believe in soulmates?"
Emily looked at him in confusion, "um, I don't think so."
"Yeah, me either," Joe said in his deep voice. "So, fall in love, have some fun. Then you can find your husband."
"That is a very salacious thing to suggest, Joe Toye!" Emily whacked him on the arm.
Joe winced and clutched his shoulder.
"Oh my gosh, Joe I'm so sorry!"
Joe chuckled, "you're good, you're good. Salacious?"
"Saucy! Very provocative thing to you to say."
Joe rolled his jaw, "well, why not?"
Emily blushed, "it's an idea alright. But what guy will want to marry a girl like that?"
"A girl like you?" Joe asked, "look, you need to stop worrying about what a guy's gonna think about you. You find the right guy, he won't care."
"You're sounding awfully romantic right now Joe."
Joe chuckled, "okay, here's the deal. You have your love affair and when it's all done if you can't find a husband, I'll marry ya."
"What!" Emily exclaimed with a laugh, "is that a proposal Joe?"
Joe grinned roguishly, "yeah, consider it a proposal, but you ain't gettin' no diamond."
"Hmm," Emily humored his offer.
"but I'll let you have a job. Hell you can work as much as you like!"
Emily smiled genuinely, "yeah?"
"Yeah, I got you," Joe stretched to give Emily's hand a squeeze. "Only if I'm not married by the time your romp is over!"
Emily laughed. She leaned forward to gently embrace her friend. The cheek to cheek contact was healing for both of them.
A few days later Joe was up and about rearing to return to the front line. He was determined to hitch a ride back and Emily was determined to go with him. Luckily, there wasn't a lot of leadership paying attention to her whereabouts. It was only Marwa who's permission Emily felt she needed.
The nurse was busy as always directing other medical staff when Emily approached.
"Marwa?"
"Hm?" Marwa was inspecting a soldiers leg bandage.
"I'm going to visit the line. Is that okay?"
The woman looked up, "are you telling me or asking me?"
Emily fidgeted uncomfortably, "telling you, I guess."
"Then don't sound so timid!" Marwa said, "come, you can take some supplies."
Finally, Emily was loaded up in the back of a jeep with a fidgety Joe Toye beside her. He had organized a ride with a small camera crew who were bringing back clips of the front-line to the home-front. A member of the crew kept asking Joe ridiculous questions from the front seat as they waited to depart. Emily could tell that Joe's patience was quickly waning as he responded to "did it hurt to get hit?" and "have you been hit before?". The interviewer only stopped when the noise of the jeep made it impossible to continue the Q&A without shouting.
The drive felt endless as Emily had no physical concept of the distance between where she had been and where her men were. She kept expecting a camp to emerge from around each bend and through every skeleton of bare trees. The landscape went on and on hypnotically until Emily felt as if she was simply riding around in circles. Eventually the jeep slowed, then stopped. "We're here?" she asked quietly.
"Yeah," Joe said, "you don't gotta whisper."
He jumped out of the jeep agilely despite his arm still being in a sling. With an his strong arm he lifted Emily out of the jeep with her box of linens and morphine. Emily would usually protest being manhandled in such a way but no one made her feel safer than Joe Toye. Even in his injured state he felt like a personal bodyguard and it felt good to be taken care of. Was she afraid of being on the front line? No, but she was afraid of being unprepared in the unexpected. She was glad to be under the wing of someone who made her feel like she belonged. Emily wobbled slightly where Joe sat her down. Just as she caught her balance and Joe released his arm from around her waist, Nixon walked past them with Colonel Sink. His eyes flicked between her and Joe. Emily tried to catch his eyes with a hopeful smile but the man kept walking without any further acknowledgement of her presence.
Emily sucked her teeth in frustration. She turned to find Joe once again engrossed by the film crew man, and he was growing surlier by the second.
"I'm gonna go find Doc," Emily said but Joe barely heard her as the crewman had pulled out a camera.
The snow was thicker here than it was around HQ. It crunched satisfyingly as Emily wove through the black trunks of trees looking for the telltale red cross symbol. Signs of combat were everywhere; busted tree trunks peppered the forest, the remains of their branches at their base. Men called up greetings from their foxholes and Emily smiled to be back among the living rather than among the wounded.
After she found Doc Roe, who appreciatively accepted the meager supplies she offered, Emily went off in search of George Luz. She found him occupying a foxhole that Frank Perconte was climbing out of.
"Emily!" Frank exclaimed. From below, George looked up. His eyes were sunken in exhaustion but he managed a toothy grin.
"Mind if I jump in a take your place?" Emily embraced the Italian.
"Go for it, I gotta take a shit, it's gonna be a minute," Frank stomped off into the cold.
"Charming as always," Emily said dropping into the foxhole beside George. The temperature was really starting to get to her now. There was a big difference between the musty tents she had come from and the bitter chill of this subterranean shelter. She shivered as her spine settled against the cold earthen wall, "it's cold."
George raised an eyebrow at her. Emily suppressed her smile. She knew her comment was stupid, it wasn't funny at all, but she was so happy to be beside George right then. Her gratitude to find him alive and well manifested into an indecorous sensation of joy.
"What're you doing here? Shouldn't you be back at the CP?" George asked wearily.
"I busted out to come see my favorite guy." Emily earned another smile from him. His lips were chapped, peeling and as pale as the rest of his face. "How you doin' George?" she asked bringing a hand up to cup his cheek. He leaned into the warmth of her touch.
"Oh you know, just fine," he closed his eyes, "better now."
"I'm glad to find you here," Emily said.
"I'm glad you found me here!" George nestled up to her, letting his head drop onto her shoulder like a child. "So what's the big news from HQ? Anything good?"
Emily chuckled, "between you and Joe.. I feel like a disappointment that I don't have more to report!"
"Well you are, a guy is starved for entertainment out here. You had one job, Emily Rooney," George joked.
They were cuddled up now, his chin tucked into the warm crook of her neck. His arms were wrapped around his M1 but she had looped one of hers through his and stroked his arm and his cheek lovingly. She knew it was futile but she hoped she could warm him with the friction even if only slightly.
"Okay well here's a question for ya George, you ever have a crush on me?"
"Hell ya," George said, "why? You wanna get out of here?" he teased suggestively.
Emily laughed, "no, seriously! I've been wondering. Some people seem to think you do or did."
"Who're these 'some people'?"
Emily's smile faltered, "doesn't matter. I was only curious."
"Well," George rolled his head on her shoulder to look up at her, "I probably thought about it at some point, but somewhere down the line I started caring for you in a way where I couldn't imagine kissing you."
"Mm, that's what I thought."
"It'd be gross, like kissing my sister."
"Okay, okay, I get the picture," Emily giggled.
"Sorry to crush your dreams," George widened his eyes and pushed his bottom lip out in a pout, "but you'll find someone someday, sweetheart." Emily laughed.
"Now Joe on the other hand," George continued, "he's ready to propose and take you back to Pittston!"
Emily laughed lightheartedly, "I know! I've already said yes!"
A voice cleared itself from above the foxhole they were snuggled up in. Emily hadn't heard the crunch of the snow, his footsteps had been so silent, but looking down at them was the face of Lewis Nixon. His face was unreadable but Emily saw the thunder in his eyes. How much had he heard? Emily's stomach sunk as she realized any part of their conversation could have been misinterpreted. Nixon knew very little about the true nature of her relationships with Joe and George; little did he know that everything they said was said in loving jest.
"Captain," George addressed Nixon formally.
Nixon barely nodded his head in response, "I thought I'd let you know a jeep's about to head back to regimental headquarters if you want a ride."
"Oh yes, thank you!" Emily tried to keep her voice light in hopes that Nixon would understand the tone of the conversation she was exiting. "Bye George," Emily struggled to wrap her arms around him in the tight space. They exchanged a kiss on the cheek then Emily, legs stiff with cold, struggled to her feet. Nixon extended a hand to help her out. The touch of his freezing palms sent a shiver through her body.
They walked back towards the command post in silence aside from the sound of the ground beneath them. Emily racked her brain for something to say but all she managed to do was peek up at Nixon. His face was taught, his dark eyes focused ahead of them. Inside she screamed for him to say something. They still hadn't spoken properly since their kiss, since he told her he loved her. Surely he had to say something. They couldn't continue in silence in perpetuity. If he wasn't going to say anything, she had to.
"Lewis," she stopped him by roughly grabbing him by the lapels of his OD's. Adrenaline began coursing through her body that was now running on autopilot; she had no idea what she had planned. "What's wrong?"
"What? Nothing." At least he didn't look away. But his black eyes bore holes into her causing the adrenaline to gush out faster and more potent.
"Why won't you talk to me?" she demanded.
"Why don't you talk to me?" Nixon retorted.
"I am, I've tried but you keep blowing me off."
"Emily," Nixon gently pulled her hands from his chest. He held them for a minute before releasing them to drop by her side, "let's not do this now."
"It doesn't need to be a drawn out conversation," Emily insisted, "just give it to me straight. Are you off me now or what?"
Nixon's jaw clenched. Emily watched as his Adam's apple bobbed up and down as he swallowed. "Kissing you was a mistake."
Emily's heart sunk, her lips parted in shock.
"If I knew you were committed elsewhere I wouldn't have." The knot in Emily's stomach grew tighter as she realized he had heard her conversation with George. "Lew, you don't understand- it was a joke, Joe and I-,"
"You and Joe," Nixon laughed sardonically, "have you guys registered for the wedding yet? Feel free to leave me off the guest list."
"Would you listen to me? I don't know why you have to get so mean!"
"Come on," Nixon began walking again, "you've got to go."
Emily grew painfully aware of the foxholes filled with men around them. She followed after Nixon, conscious not to make a scene she caught his arm and hissed as they walked, "there's nothing between Joe and I. He's a good friend, nothing more. If you would just listen you, just talk to me, you would realize I lov-," she was cut off by Colonel Sink as they reached the jeep.
"Alright Miss Rooney, ready to head back?"
"Yes, sir," Emily quickly dropped her grip from Nixon's arm. She noticed the look he exchanged with Winters, who's mouth opened into an o. Emily's face burned red with heat despite the cold. She didn't want the XO to look at her. It was clear she had been a subject of conversation between the two men before.
Colonel Sink politely helped her up into the back of the jeep and once again she was separated from Lewis Nixon with nothing resolved between them. How typical it was of them; from the very beginning their relationship had been like a frayed rope always on the verge of unraveling. He had told her he loved her but most days it felt like he hated her. And she hated that the more he pulled away from her the more she fell for him. She was intoxicated by him like he was by his whiskey; totally addicted no matter how bad it was.
