A Nurse for Mitch

by Marie Higgins

  He shrugged. “Then I’ll have no other choice but to stop it from happening.”

  Before she knew it, he was covering her mouth with his. Appalled by his actions, she beat on his chest and squirmed, trying to get out of his hold. Why the dirty rat didn’t release her was beyond her. She turned her head, but that only seemed to intensify his purpose. He gripped her face with one hand and forced his mouth on her again.

  “I’ll give you to the count of three to step away from the lady.”

  The man’s voice was deep and commanding, but relief washed through her when she recognized her rescuer. Jess Olsen jumped away from her and spun toward Mitch. Finally free from Jess’s unwanted attention, she whacked him in the shoulder and kicked his shin before moving closer to Mitch.

  It surprised her to see Mitch out of the bedroom, but he wore a clean pair of trousers and a shirt that covered his chest, even if it appeared too small. He wore no boots on his feet, and for the oddest reason, she found him more attractive, in a casual way, of course.

  Jess eyed Mitch up and down as a smirk touched his evil mouth. “You must be the invalid laid up in the guest bedroom.”

  “The lady wants you to leave. I suggest you doing it quickly.” Mitch ran his fingers through his long hair as he leaned heavily on a long, thick branch that seemed to help hold him up.

  Jess chuckled. “Your Yankee blood is showing through.”

  Mitch nodded. “Whether it is or not has no bearings to this situation. Now, take your leave, sir.”

  “And what if I don’t?” Jess arched an eyebrow. “Are you going to fight me? Because, you don’t look strong enough.”

  She studied Mitch’s face. His expression did show signs of strain. He was overdoing it being outside and arguing with Jess. She was certain Mitch’s wound would open.

  “Actually,” Mitch said, raising the thick branch, “I was going to let this do my talking. I would love nothing more than to pound you with it.”

  Oh, dear… She couldn’t allow Mitch to do that – even if Jess deserved it. But that much aggravated movement would certainly be harmful to Mitch’s health.

  “Mr. Olsen,” she said in a stern voice as she pulled off her gloves. “Please leave my uncle’s property now, because if you don’t, I’ll make sure you’re not invited back.”

  Jess’ eyes turned darker, and he growled at Mitch before turning on his boot heels and marching away from them. Once he was far enough away, Lydia stomped her foot and threw down her gloves. She moved to Mitch and touched his arm. “What are you doing outside? Now I’ll need to look at your bandages again.”

  Mitch looked down at her and smiled. The lines of anger in his forehead and around his mouth disappeared.

  “I would have pounded that man good for forcing himself on you. I don’t care if it reopened my wound or not.”

  “Come, let’s get you back inside.”

  Without thinking of what his touch did to her, she slipped one arm around his waist and helped him back inside the house. Thankfully, they only had to pass through the kitchen and hallway before reaching the guest room.

  “What could you have possibly been thinking to come outside?” she asked, taking him to the bed and helping him sit.

  He motioned toward the window. “I could see you, and I could see what he was doing.” His expression darkened. “I don’t take kindly to men who treat women with such disrespect.”

  Why her heart leapt, she wished she knew. But just as the many times before, she realized this man couldn’t be the Lieutenant who had tortured soldiers. A man with such a kind heart as Mitch’s, wouldn’t have done half the things Peter Mitchell had pulled off.

  “Thank you,” she said with a shaky voice. “I wish there were more men like you.”

  He reached out and took hold of her hand, rubbing the pad of his thumb over her fingers. “I wish I knew what kind of a man I really was.”

  “If you ask me, you’ve already shown it.” She smiled. “You’re a man who will do anything – even break open his wound – in order to keep men like Mr. Olsen from violating a woman.”

  “I think I did it,” he said slowly, “because it was you who he was hurting.”

  Oh, my heart. She really should tell Mitch not to say things like that. “Remove your shirt and let me look at your wound.”

  A smile stayed on his face as he released her hand and started unbuttoning his shirt. She tried not to act too anxious to see his bare chest. After all, she’d seen it before… But, ahhh… Heavens, he was one fine man.

  “It looks like Henrietta’s food is really helping you gain your weight back.”

  “Yes. She’s an angel.”

  “I agree. And, I wonder if you are starting to feel better because of her food?”

  He shrugged out of his shirt. “The other day when I was still experiencing a lot of pain, she told me to put a knife under the bed because she’d heard it would cut the pain in half.”

  Lydia laughed heartily. That would be something the older woman would say. “She is definitely superstitious.”

  “Well,” he said, finishing removing his shirt, “I put a butter knife under the bed, and the next day, I started feeling better.”

  Lydia laughed harder. “She has got you fooled.”

  “No, I’m a true believer now.”

  She moved around to stand behind him and gently pulled the bandage away from the wound. No signs of blood, thankfully.

  “How do I look?” he wondered.

  The word wonderful sprang to her mind, but she definitely wasn’t going to say it. “The wound hasn’t opened up.” She picked up the shirt he had been wearing and draped it over his shoulders as a hint to put it back on. “However, we want to keep it from reopening, so please, don’t go around trying to start fights with foolish men like Mr. Olsen.”

  She walked around and stopped in front of him. His gaze was tender as he looked at her, making her heartbeat go insane.

  “You look pretty today.”

  This must be his way of trying to melt her. There was no way her plain brown skirt – with spots of dirt from the ground – and her yellow blouse were considered pretty. She was sure her hair was a fright, too. “I think you have overexerted yourself if you think that.”

  “I haven’t, I promise. In fact, put me through a test if you must, so that you know I’m telling the truth.”

  Suddenly, an idea struck her. She’d seen one of the doctor’s do this to a patient who had memory problems. Of course, the patient wasn’t anything like Mitch. At least the other patient recalled parts of their life.

  “All right. I have the perfect test.” She grabbed a wooden chair and moved it closer to his bed and sat. “I’m going to say a word and you tell me the first thing that pops into your head.”

  He shrugged. “That sounds easy enough since I don’t have much in my head.”

  Chuckling at his humor, she shook her head. “You must be serious.”

  “I promise.”

  She sat for a few minutes staring at him, trying to think of some words, reminding herself not to stare at him too long. Bad things happened to her when she did that.

  “Laramie,” she started.

  “Lydia’s town.” He smiled.

  “Buggy,” she continued.

  “Lydia’s method of catching a man.”

  She threw back her head and laughed. “Please, Mitch. You must be serious. This is a test.”

  “But… I was serious.”

  She shook her head and moved on to the next word. “Black.”

  “Mourning, death.”

  “White.”

  “A wedding,” he said quickly.

  She swallowed. “Woman.”

  “Lydia,” he sighed.

  She grinned again and figured it was time to make the words harder and at the same time, hoping to open his mind to the past. “Captain.”

  He hesitated, but only briefly. “War.”

  Now they were getting somewhere in this game. “Lewis.”
/>
  Mitch stared at her with a blank expression and shook his head. “Nothing is coming to mind.”

  “Fine, skip it.” She thought, then said, “Peter.”

  His eyes widened. “Fisherman.”

  Confusion filled her. “A Fisherman? Why?”

  “Because in the Bible, Peter was a fisherman.”

  “The Bible? You have read the Bible?”

  He shrugged. “I suppose I have. How else would I know that answer?”

  Her heart pounded faster as her mind recalled another little tidbit of what Captain Lewis had told her about Peter Mitchell. Peter Mitchell had come from a rich family and his father was a minister, which made Peter think he was God, himself.

  Could Mitch really be Peter Mitchell? But as soon as the thought crossed her mind, she remembered that Mitch didn’t have a mean bone in his body. He was too kind.

  Lydia was suddenly overwhelmed by confusion again, and she wanted to leave, but just as she stood up, Mitch grasped her hand.

  “What’s wrong?” he asked. “You look… afraid of me. Did I say something wrong?”

  Her chest clenched. Why couldn’t she decide if he was the deserter or if he was just the sweetest man in the world?

  “Why would you think I’m afraid of you?”

  His gaze dropped to her hand and he stroked her skin gently. “You haven’t been alone with me since our brief kiss.”

  Her throat began drying up again. “No, I haven’t.”

  “Why?” He looked up at her.

  “Because… I’m so very distraught.”

  “About the kiss?”

  “Yes, no… oh, I don’t know.” She tried to leave again, but he gently pulled her until she sat on the bed beside him.

  “If you want me to apologize for the kiss, I will. It hurts me to see you this way.”

  “Are you sorry that you kissed me?”

  His expression relaxed and one side of his mouth lifted in a half-grin. “No. I have been thinking about it since I first saw your angelic face.”

  “Why? You don’t know me, and I certainly don’t know you very well.”

  “I think it’s because I have nothing in my memory but you now. And… you are so very lovely, and extremely kind. You have stuck up for me in front of your family. That means a lot to me, and I can’t help but have some feelings for you.”

  Frowning, she touched his cheek. “Mitch? Have you ever stopped to wonder what would happen if your memory returns?”

  “Of course, I think about that.”

  “What if you realize you’re married and have children? Or, what if…” she held her breath, wondering if she should say it, “what if you were completely different from what we have seen?”

  “Do you think I could be an outlaw?”

  “It’s possible.”

  He pulled back but still held her hand. Silence stretched between them for several moments, and she didn’t know what else to say. She hated that there were still doubts in her mind about who he really was, and yet, something inside her was fighting to convince her that the Yankee deserter and this man sitting next to her were two different men.

  Finally, Mitch’s chest rose and fell heavily before he met her gaze again. “My heart tells me I’m not a bad person. I want to trust my heart.”

  She squeezed his hand. “I want to believe my heart, too… and yours, of course.”

  “Then let’s forget about this business about me being a bad person.”

  “Yes, let’s forget.”

  “But, there is one thing I don’t want to forget.” He leaned closer as his gaze dropped to her mouth. “Please, don’t ask me to forget the kiss.”

  If her heartbeat wouldn’t stop beating so fast, she was sure to have some kind of attack. “I’m… engaged.”

  “I know. However, he’s not here.” Mitch leaned closer until his hot breath touched her lips. “And I am.”

  Holding her breath, she waited for the kiss – anticipated the moment when his lips would gently touch hers again, all the while she wondered why her mind didn’t try to stop it from happening. Yet, Mitch was correct. Adam hadn’t been in her life for two years. In fact, it had been quite a while since he’d written to her. Was it any wonder she had a difficult time remembering his face?

  The moment his mouth met hers, she sighed heavily. This was exactly what she had remembered from the first time, except now they were closer to each other. Now, she wanted to know what it would feel like to be completely enfolded in his arms while they kissed.

  She cupped his face, keeping it close as she participated in the kiss. His arms slid around her and pulled her closer. The moment was so tender, and yet, so very passionate. It wasn’t until this moment when she realized how lonely she’d been since Adam had left her to pursue his career in the army. She also realized that out of the few times she’d kissed Adam, it had never affected her this way. She literally couldn’t breathe, and yet, her pulse was racing with excitement.

  Relaxing, she wrapped her arms around his neck, which brought their bodies closer. It cleansed her to kiss a man so aggressively without feelings of doubt or guilt. At least for now, which she planned to take advantage of because she knew that once the kiss had ended, she’d feel guilty. And yet, her fiancé wasn’t here to console her lonely heart, or even talk to her and cheer her up. He wasn’t here to kiss her passionately so that all problems in her life disappeared.

  Mitch broke the kiss, and by the way he gazed into her eyes as his chest rose and fell rapidly, she knew he had enjoyed the moment just as much as she had. His green eyes were so bright, and his smile made her heart flip in her chest.

  “That was… perfect,” he whispered.

  Oh, heavens! She couldn’t stop her heart from being affected. Hopefully, she wouldn’t regret it later.

  SEVEN

  Mitch tossed and turned fitfully in his bed. He was having another one of those strange and unexplainable nightmares. But this one was different. He was in a building and it was dark. His breathing was heavy as panic surged through him. Someone was after him, and he tried to hide. Others were also in the room, but he couldn’t see them, only feel them. The doors to the building flew open and five men with rifles ran into the room. His heart sank. This was the end of his life. How could he escape now?

  Everything seemed to happen in slow motion. The men holding guns began shouting and shooting at people. Mitch and the others had to run for their lives. Some of the others around him were shot. He heard their cries of death. He wanted to stop and help, but feared that if he didn’t find a way out of the building, he’d be killed himself.

  Up ahead, there was an opening as the light from outside spilled into the building. He ran as fast as he could toward freedom, but suddenly he felt a sharp pain in his shoulder, quickly burning through him. He’d been shot and his strength was being sapped from him. All around him, the cries of the others grew silent.

  Mitch made it out of the building and ran through the thicket of trees. Their branches scratched his face and tore at his clothes, but he kept on going. He didn’t dare stop to see if the men with guns were behind him.

  Ahead of him on the ground was a fallen log. As he tried to jump over it, his foot stubbed on the log and he stumbled. He fell to the ground and rolled. His head struck a boulder and he blacked out. When he gained consciousness again, three men stood before him, each holding a rifle pointed toward him.

  As the faces came into view, it was Lydia’s cousins, Thad and Luke, who Mitch had seen from a distance. The third man was their friend, Jess Olsen. Jess spoke angrily.

  “You’re a blue-belly Yankee! You don’t deserve to live!”

  Thad laughed and shoved the point of his rifle against Mitch’s head. “You paid another man to fight the war in your place.”

  Luke’s expression hardened and turned red. “I saw you kissing Lydia, and we’ll not tolerate a Yankee deserter touching our cousin.”

  Frightened, Mitch scrambled to get away, but a gunshot from on
e of the rifles struck his left shoulder. Pain seared through him and he fell flat on his face.

  Mitch bolted straight up in bed, his body was covered in sweat. Although it was a dream, his heartbeat still hammered in fear as if it had just happened. His head pounded like the blast from a cannon, making the dream seem so real. It took him awhile before his body finally stopped shaking and the feeling of fear to leave his system.

  Why was he having these dreams? Did it have something to do with his past or was he just creating some imaginary dream because of all the horrible war stories he had heard from Lydia and Olivia? Even Henrietta related a few of her own, which seemed so surreal.

  As he regained a normal breathing pattern again, he laid back in bed, but he couldn’t close his eyes. Confusion swirled in his mind, making him so frustrated. Why couldn’t he remember his own life – his name for heaven’s sake!

  He massaged his forehead, waiting for the throbbing in his head to leave. He breathed through the discomfort as his mind returned to Lydia and their kiss. Sighing, he smiled. She was an amazing woman. It didn’t matter what his past had been, he felt in his heart that he’d never had a burning passion for any woman like he did for that lovely nurse.

  She’d once wondered if he was married, but he didn’t think he was. And, if he had been or had been engaged, why hadn’t the woman tried to locate him yet? After all, he was sure he’d been wandering around for months. Why else would he wear shabby clothing and have such long hair and facial hair?

  The room slowly began to brighten as the sun began its morning rise. He couldn’t go back to sleep now, so perhaps exercising was what he should do.

  Slowly, he climbed out of bed and reached for the clothes he’d found in the drawers yesterday that were almost too small for him, but his attention moved to the clothes in the corner of the room on a small table that Henrietta had washed and mended. Those were the clothes he’d been wearing when Lydia hit him with her buggy.

  He stepped over to the clothes and picked them up. The pants were big on him, which is why he used a rope for a belt. Did that mean he’d once been a very large man and had lost weight? Yet, he had no extra skin on his arms or belly. But somehow, they were his clothes.