Courage in a White Coat by Mary Schwaner

Author:Mary Schwaner
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Prairie Muse Books Inc

CHAPTER THIRTY-EIGHT

CALINOG

“I wish you wouldn’t, Fred.”

“I have to, darling. We have most of the college’s administrative papers moved to the cave already. Just a few more trips and we’ll be done.”

“But—”

He pecked her on the cheek and picked up his car key. “Just a few more trips. We’ll be starting the college back up as soon as all this is over and we’d just be in such a mess without the records. I know you understand.”

“But—”

He was halfway out the door. “But what?” he called back over his shoulder.

“Just you wait a minute, Fred Chambers.”

That halted him in his tracks, but at the same moment Bobby, who was at the table eating his morning porridge, heard a rousing song come on the radio and decided to wave his spoon in time to the music.

The result was widespread, and porridge flew in forty-leven directions about the eating porch of their little Bagong-Barrio nipa hut. And a particularly large glop landed on Dorothy’s cheek.

She stood stock-still, wind taken out of her sails, becalmed in a sea of porridge.

And sighed.

“We’ll talk when you get back, darling. Be careful. And—”

Fred caught the glop of porridge in his hand as it began to slip from her cheek and kissed her on the relatively safe top of her head.

“I know, I know. Get back before dark.”

Dorothy huffed. “Don’t you dare try these roads without running lights. I absolutely forbid it. Promise me, Fred.”

Fred kissed her again and instead of his usual flippant “scouts honor” salute he put his hand over his heart. “I promise.”

Fred sprinted out the door and Dorothy turned to clean up the mess.

“Oh Bobby. You’re a sorry little mess! But I will say that your sense of rhythm is tickety-boo.”

. . . .

Fred navigated the roads as quickly as he could. There was too much to move to the hidden cave in one trip. He’d have to make two, if not three. Load the car with just the critical files, banking papers, student records and a dozen other types of document they’d identified. Then drive two miles to the cave in the hills where they’d stashed raised crates to conceal the valuable papers. It was the coldest, driest cave he could find.

He was college president. He took his personal charge to safeguard these things very seriously. In a few months when this was over, they’d do the reverse. Bring the documents back down to campus

The final trip to the cave went without a hitch, but he’d cut the time shorter than he’d planned. Still, he needed to check one more time for any mail that might have made it through. Dorothy needed word from home so desperately, and he desperately needed to make that happen for her.

He raced down a side street and whipped around the corner. The Post Office lay straight ahead. Quiet. Unoccupied. Bombed out.

There would be no word from home. Not by mail, at any rate.

The crescent moon that skated behind scattered clouds gave him just enough light to get himself back to the Calinog campsite.

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