excerpt
Chapter Nine
Surrounded by her classmates, Tyne sat on the stage of the theatre
and looked out over the sea of upturned faces in the audience. She
dared not turn her head to look at anyone on stage lest she spoil
the carefully rehearsed symmetry of white clad figures. Feet crossed
at the ankles, as they had been instructed, the graduates sat erect,
shoulders back, heads high, each one holding a bouquet of red roses.
Starched white aprons spread out around them, and white bibs held
in place the shiny pins of the Holy Cross Hospital. At their wrists,
gold cuff links secured starched cuffs to the unfamiliar long sleeves
of the white graduate uniforms.
From the moment the graduating classes of February and September,
1952, had marched in to take their places on the stage, Tyne
had scanned the audience for a glimpse of her guests. Finally, she
spotted Morley and his parents sitting close to the front of the auditorium
on the middle aisle. He must have guessed that the graduates
would walk down that aisle when the ceremonies were over. She
would pass within inches of him because she would be on the right
of her marching partner. Even from this distance Tyne could see how
nice he looked in his dark suit, white shirt and tie. He appeared to
be looking right at her, and Tyne had to resist the urge to wave and
blow him a kiss.
“I won’t take my eyes off you, honey,” he had told her on the telephone
two days earlier. “For me, there won’t be another nurse on
that platform.”
She looked away and began to search for her family. She found
them on the opposite side of the auditorium from Morley
Libros Libertad 