The Better Angels: Hearts Touched by Fire, Book 4

by Gina Danna

  Ada’s blood boiled. This overgrown child was trying to get her fired! It took every ounce of energy—which was in short supply after the mischief her house-patient had caused last night. She’d hardly slept! But, she pulled from reserves she didn’t know she had and did her best to hide her anger.

  “Dr. Waxler is a good physician, and has risen to the mark every time after a battle,” she started. It wouldn’t hurt to ply the man’s ego. “Even managing a team of doctors and nurses during the chaos of numerous wounded arriving is commendable. But he failed to utilize every asset he had, and that includes another doctor, one as trained as the rest, but who is not a man. Because I carry a womb, I, somehow, cannot operate under stress, according to Dr. Waxler. So he’d let men suffer due to that affliction he claims I have.

  “Only once did he allow me to help, and that was after the battle fought in Virginia. Mine’s Creek. And even that was only in aid of the wounded rebels, as he tended not to care if they lived or died—”

  “I object!” Waxler’s face was red with anger. “How dare you.”

  She returned his stare. “I have no worries telling the truth. Do you?” She stood, strength pumping her blood now. “You let me in because one of your own wasn’t as keen on the injuries, and you claimed he was needed for the men in blue, when I consider all who suffer are to be taken care of.”

  The notice of another surgeon lacking skills caught Bliss’s attention. “Who was this other surgeon?”

  “He’s of little note,” Waxler stated. “He’s a good doctor. Truth was, I needed him to work on our men over theirs.”

  Dix’s eyes were as inflamed as Bliss’s were.

  “Plus, Miss High and Mighty here,” Waxler continued. “Has recently been slacking in her duties, even falling asleep on the job.”

  Ada gasped. Dix’s gaze on her narrowed and even Bliss shot a glance her way.

  “Are you all right, Miss Lorrance?” Bliss’s gaze glanced up and down her.

  “I am myself, sir. Just a bit tired. Tenants at my boarding house were a touch in the drink, I reckon. Kept me up half the night.”

  Dix settled back down. “The plague of war, my dear.”

  “When was the last time you were granted furlough, Miss Lorrance?”

  Ada started at Bliss’s question. “It’s been a while, sir.”

  “Well, then, let us agree to you taking one,” he started, turning toward Waxler. “You are granted holidays at once. Miss Lorrance, you get yours now too.”

  “But sir—” Waxler started at same time as Ada.

  “Your patients will be fine. We do have a full hospital here,” Bliss stated as he sat back down. “Full of doctors, since the armies have gone into winter camp. Two on leave will cause no worries. You are granted two weeks. Now,” he looked up at them, over the rim of his glasses. “Go.”

  Chapter 18

  “Grant is a butcher and not fit to be at the head of an army. He loses two men to the enemy’s one. He has no management, no regard for life…I could fight an army as well myself.”

  —Mary Todd Lincoln’s remark after Grant lost fifty thousand men in The Wilderness Campaign, 1864

  Ada blinked, her mind racing. Two week’s furlough. Two weeks with no pay. Two weeks with no work. What was she to do? She had a patient, the enemy, perched in her room, telling all he was her husband. No, he’d only told their housekeeper, but no doubt the word had spread. Now, she couldn’t take him anywhere like home, and he wasn’t well enough to send back to prison or wherever he was to go. At this point, she didn’t care, other than she was stuck and wanted to scream.

  Then again, she could turn him in. While a certain amount of satisfaction would arise, so would the problems. Problems like her getting the blame for have an escaped prisoner. For Will having aided in that endeavor. And all his recovery would no doubt be in jeopardy as he was thrown back into the prison or killed. She sighed, frustrated and angry.

  Thankfully, she could enter the house without seeing anyone, especially Mrs. Turner. It appeared her Confederate roommate was not downstairs either. Part of her wanted to know how his foot was, if he had walked more and if it was swollen from it—a thought that made her step falter, aggravated this man was trying to work his way under her skin. Damn slaveholder! Gathering her wits, she turned to head to the room, when there was a knock at the door behind her. Startled, she looked and discovered it was Will.

  “Will, what are you doing here?” she said softly, allowing him in the door.

  He looked nervous, even skittish. “I heard of your upcoming departure.” He leaned a little closer, dropping his tone. “Waxler is inflamed, of course, but you, you deserve some time to rest. My concern, though, is our patient.”

  She bit her bottom lip and started to shift her weight, trying to keep her own pent up anger quiet so as not to raise the attention of Mrs. Turner or anyone else.

  “That is a good question. I, too, was not expecting to take a holiday leave. I can hardly take him with me, as you know. Therefore, I must leave him in your hands.”

  “Oh, by heaven above, you can’t!” Now Will started to pace, a frantic look on his face. “You are not the only one leaving. I requested leave. I must return home for a family affair. I can’t drag an injured prisoner with me!”

  Quickly, she motioned with her hands for him to lower his voice. Yet his denial of his responsibility lit her ire. “You can’t leave him with me. First off, you know this isn’t right. He is a prisoner, one that you freed for some unknown reason. You know it wasn’t legal, despite whatever you claim, therefore he is your responsibility, not mine!”

  “Ada, please,” he begged.

  “I told you, he’s claimed to Mrs. Turner that he is my husband.” She walked a few steps and pivoted back. “I wasn’t in a position to call him a liar, as he sat down here, having tea with her while I was at the hospital!”

  Will’s brows rose with surprise. “He’s recovered enough to walk. You are an angel, I do declare.”

  “Stop crowing. Yes, he’s managed, in a shamble of his boot, to hobble his way with a cane. But that is beside the point. The main fact is,” She stopped and glared at him. “I can’t take him back to Pennsylvania with me. What if Richard is there?”

  Will snapped his head around to face her. “Richard? That man is a scoundrel, Ada. Why do you continue to pine away for a vermin that is not worthy of your attention?”

  She sighed.

  “Because we love each other, Will.”

  “Poppy-cock! That man has no morals, I can assure you.”

  Her anger flared. “The rebel is your problem! One that you foisted on me and now, you think you can just leave him in my hands? I’ll turn him in tomorrow, if needs be! He’s the enemy, for Christ’s sake! And a slave-owner!” That final title made her want to retch.

  “Ada, please. I know you. You would not abandon a patient.”

  She growled. “He’s not my patient.” It came out as a snarl.

  Will shook his head. “I know you too well. His wound was a challenge for you. Plus, you’d never leave a man to fester. That’s not our job, to decide who lives and who dies.”

  “Dying wasn’t his problem.” She clenched her teeth.

  “Ada…”

  “No, he’s your concern. You need to take him.”

  “And have my career ruined and be imprisoned for helping him escape?” He moved closer, his tone dropping. “Would you do that to me?”

  Ada glared at him. Will had stood by her when every other man wanted to throw her out of medical school. He was her supporter in the medical corps. But now, he was infuriating her. Obviously, he was taking advantage…. though, she knew his skills were not ready to handle this. Damn, he was so correct. She couldn’t leave. “I still can’t take him with me.”

  Will took her hands in his. “Please, take care of him till I can sort this out. It is very important to me to repay his family for what his did for mine. Take him to New York. To Sweet Briar. No one will be there, so
it will be safe. I’ll do my best to have a solution by the end of your leave.”

  Her insides twisted. Will’s plead ate at her desire to rid herself of the man. Plus, Richard had not stated he was on any leave, so her probability of seeing him wasn’t high.

  “Sweet Briar is your retreat. How is it I can suddenly arrive and just assume your servants will heed my word that you said I could stay there?”

  On that, Will withdrew an envelope from his coat pocket. “I had it written, in high hopes you’d accept. This will explain it to them.”

  Very slowly, she took the letter, never taking her gaze from him. “Your debt to me is growing large.”

  “Thank you.” He kissed her forehead.

  That undid the last of her civility. Like so much of his life, Will found himself in over his head, like medical school, and relied on her to save him. But his time, the complications outdid the good. Anger flared and she snapped. “Get out of here, before I scream.”

  His eyes widened in surprise, but she saw the thread in them that told her he knew what he’d done to her. Jamming his hat back on his head, he slid past her out the door.

  With her head pounding, her heart thudded as the fire inside her escalated. It was the last that made her slam the door shut behind him, which she instantly regretted. So much for quiet, she thought. She shoved the letter into her reticule and stormed up the stairs. The next two weeks would be anything but restive, she knew. Instead, it’d be hell.

  Francois smiled, relishing the moment as he stroked her hair. “You are beautiful.”

  La Joyce snorted, but her eyes sparkled. “And you, monsieur, have quite the mouth.”

  He winked at her. “And, as I recall, you enjoy that.”

  She laughed and rolled out of his arms, getting off the bed. As she padded across the room to the washstand, he watched, admiring her body. She was lithe with large hips, small waist and breasts that begged for his attention. He drank in her curves, accentuated by her ebony skin that glistened in the oil light. The slight bounce to her bosom and the hint of the apex of her thighs as she splashed her face, nearly drove him mad with desire. He always imagined her as his and his alone, which she wasn’t, but….

  Suddenly, the heat of her gaze drew his attention upward, to where he could see her staring at him through the burnished looking glass poised above the washstand. Her almond colored eyes, one of the most mesmerizing pair of orbs he’d ever seen, grabbed his attention.

  “Darlin’,” she cooed, grabbing her wrap off the chair and shrugging it on, hiding herself from his view. “As much as I enjoy your company, you need to be finding a woman for yourself.”

  “You, my dear La Joyce, are all I need.” He pulled up and swung his feet over the edge of the bed. The moment he moved his right one over, pain streaked up his leg, starting in his heel.

  La Joyce spun, a concerned frown etched across her brow. “Massa, whatever did you do?”

  Fighting through the burning stab of his ankle, he managed to reply, “La Joyce, you don’t have a master.” He adjusted, trying to find the way to stop the rip in his inner foot, not sure what caused it.

  She laughed deliciously. “Of course, mostly due to you ain’t being one, but maybe you need to be, to be taken care of. Or maybe you need a wife to watch over you.”

  That comment struck a nerve inside him, one that irritated him, as if it was something he was avoiding. “Now, see here, missy.”

  He tried to rise, all intention to take her in his arms…

  His eyes popped open at the sound of the door slam. It was dark in the room, the glow of the embers in the fireplace barely visible. Blinking hard, trying to focus, he sat up when a pain sliced into his foot. Grimacing, he berated himself for forgetting his injury. That almost made him laugh. As if he’d forgotten. His thinking was muddled.

  The door propped open slowly and he discerned a cloaked form sliding in. Ada. She went straight to the pegs on the wall and hung her bonnet and cloak. She hadn’t noticed him, so he took the time to drink her in, focusing on her and not his throbbing injury. She yanked a hairpin out of the coiled bun at the nape of her neck and a cascade of bronze locks fell down her back. In the minor glow from the embers, the strands shimmered.

  Hunger slammed into him hard, snaking down to his manhood, which twitched at the mere thought. When she poured herself a glass of wine from the decanter on the bureau, his gaze was glued to her every movement. Her downing it, all at once, like a man would do, she dipped her head back making her mane loosen and it was so inviting. The vision of her leaning back, the motion of her swallowing, made his mouth go dry. In fact, it distracted him so, he didn’t catch himself from knocking over the cane that he had propped next to the bed. It crashed to the floor.

  He leapt to try to catch it right as he saw her snap her head around in his direction. It stopped him in his tracks, halfway off the bed.

  “Good evening,” he drawled, trying to give her a half a grin.

  She stood perfectly still, the glare she shot him was hot. Unsure what he’d done this time, he determined she was never going to like him. She saw him as the enemy, and from the snarl she gave him over slavery, she most likely fell into that abolitionist trap. Even now, he could see how her shoulders were locked, and the twitch in her jawline. She was ready to fight and this time, he had no clue as to why.

  “Evening.”

  The reply to his salutation was cut short on purpose. Whatever had riled her didn’t dissipate. She grabbed a carpetbag and started throwing clothes into it.

  “Are we going somewhere?” The moment the question came out, he expected her to throw something at him and he braced.

  Ada stopped her mad packing, her hand frozen over the bag’s opening with a rolled pair of stockings clutched in her fingers. Inside her head, she still debated her line of action. Will had left her without much choice, unless she chose to dig herself out of this mess.

  In that second, she decided. She would turn this bastard in to the authorities. The mere thought settled part of her nerves yet she couldn’t look at him. If he wasn’t so handsome, it’d be so much easier, she thought.

  “We aren’t going anywhere.” She went back to packing.

  Out of the corner of her eye, she saw him slowly slide off the mattress—a comfort she’d given to her ‘husband’, leaving her with the settee. Another wave of anger rolled through her. Slowly he stood, but she chose to ignore him.

  Crash!

  She spun around. The man was on the floor, spitting out curse words as he rolled in pain.

  “What did you just do to yourself?” she asked, racing to his side.

  “What the hell do you care? Damn!”

  Ada bit her bottom lip, ignoring his cursing. She went to the table, got her medical bag, and placed it on the bedside table. Offering her hand, she said, “Come on. Let’s get you off that floor.”

  He took her hand and she felt a tug, as if he wanted her to fall as well, but the pressure stopped immediately. She looked at him, a frown on her brow when she tried to pull him up, only to have him suddenly weigh like a horse she couldn’t budge.

  “Here,” she handed him the cane that had fallen.

  It took a minute for him to adjust his weight to the cane for her to help get him upright and back on the bed. She noticed he favored the wounded foot.

  “Would you care to tell me what happened?”

  This time, he only stared. Rude Southerner!

  “I might, if you explain why you’re planning on leaving me.”

  That caught her off guard. Refusing to show him her surprise, she went on with her exam as if he hadn’t spoken. She pushed the drawer legging up. The injured ankle and heel were swollen, red and hot to the touch.

  “Thought I told you to rest today, not go drilling.” She gave him an attempted smile, prodding his military background, drowning her concern in her tone. If the wound was inflamed due to infection, she feared he might lose it. Amputation was never good in the first place, let alon
e this long after the initial shock. She cringed inwardly, knowing survival, especially at this point, dropped dramatically from the seventy percent chance of recovery if they’d done it right away. No, she was determined to give him a chance to keep the appendage, even if that meant keeping him with her longer than she’d hoped for.

  His reply didn’t return the favor. “I tried that, but it’s dull to boring here. So I tested out walking on it again, though this time, without the boot. Found out that the whole foot is stiff, so when I tried to bend it, it burned.”

  Taking a linen cloth, she soaked it in the washbasin with water and draped it over a bottle near the window. “Hmmm. You may be trying a bit too much too soon.” Grabbing the now cold linen strip, she returned to his ankle and wrapped it. The cold made him jump.

  “Ouch! You trying to kill me?”

  She laughed. “Now, we’ve done this before. It’ll get the swelling down.” She put the injured foot on a folded blanket to elevate it. “We’ll try to slowly unstiffen it and keep it on the heel for a bit more.”

  “Hard to see how it’ll ‘unstiffen’ when you freeze it,” he growled.

  That made her smile. “One thing at a time.” She leaned back, her medical background working a mile a minute when the reality hit her in the gut. Will knew her too well. He was correct. This injury was a challenge and her with her undying need to help others, the one that drove her through medical school when women were barely permitted to breathe, the same drive that pushed her to help the Union army medical corps, despite their refusal to accept her as anything other than a nurse, now compelled her to see this patient recover. Again, her analytical mind went over the chain of events. He seemed so close. If her surgery on him worked, he’d shown her he’d possibly walk again.

  Fury pounced again up her spine. Damn Will and damn his knowing her so well! Crossing her arms as she now started to pace, she realized she couldn’t turn him in. Oh, how she wanted to scream and squash the inner thoughts that plotted out a course of action to get this soldier moving again.