Ellie’s cheeks flushed as her temper flared. “Now you claim to know what’s best for me?”
“Aye, Miss Winthrop, I do.” Johanna walked out of the dispensary, closed the door behind her, and somehow went on about her work. She knew she was right to distance herself from Ellie, but her leaden heart would need some convincing.
An hour later, Johanna received a summons to Matron Campbell’s office. Anxiety prickled along her spine as she remembered the last time she’d been called there, but she didn’t have to worry about bad news any longer—she had no one left to lose. She stepped inside, looking curiously at the others gathered in the room.
“Sisters,” Matron Campbell said to the six nurses standing before her, “Dr. Albert sent word that more nurses are needed at Hazebrouck, and they’re reassigning staff from the base hospitals. The wounded are coming in faster than the casualty clearing stations can handle, and they’ve asked for two of my most experienced nurses. It will be a temporary assignment, two to three months, and much closer to the front. Therefore, I’ll ask for volunteers.”
Matron stood silently as they looked at each other. Johanna thought about what a CCS would be like and wondered briefly if she had the nerve to handle such a place, but then her mind jumped to Ellie. Being around each other had been tense and difficult—this would be her chance to put some physical distance between them, for both their sakes. Her mind made up, Johanna took a deep breath, looked at Matron Campbell, and raised her hand.
* * *
Johanna had entered a whole new level of hell. She thought she’d seen the worst of what this war would bring, but her experiences had barely scratched the surface. From dusk to dawn, the field ambulances brought a constant stream of wounded men, many of whom looked barely human. Her senses were battered by noises and smells and horrific sights, and the urge to flee was strong, but it was their eyes that held her fast. These husbands and brothers and sons, at least those that still could see, looked at her with such trust, patiently waiting for relief from their torment. She could not let them down.
The CCS consisted of several large white canvas tents, each with its own purpose. Abdominal cases, amputees, head cases, infectious diseases, the gassed ones—they all had their place. Stretchers lined the ground outside, so close together that one could barely step between them. Their occupants waited to be triaged and treated, while walking wounded sat nearby. The critical cases, many of whom had lain for hours on the battlefield before they were found, were so numerous that many died before the medical staff could get to them.
In the near distance Johanna could hear the guns, and every inch of her ached from the toil and tension. She and Sister Claire were on triage, sorting the men by their wounds, while others removed filthy, lice-infested uniforms and washed the men up for the surgeons. Too often, she called the poor overwhelmed chaplain for those whose lives were quickly ebbing away. The stretcher bearers and orderlies worked until they could barely stand, but their much-needed rest rarely came. Johanna’s world became a blur of mud and blood, the stench of long-unwashed bodies and decaying flesh matched only by the miasma of pain and despair that hung over the place.
For nearly three straight days, thirty doctors, nurses, and orderlies dealt with over a thousand wounded, doing everything humanly possible to spare as many lives as they could. Despite their best efforts, the small wooden crosses in the station’s graveyard multiplied by the hour. Finally, a lull in the fighting gave them a chance to catch their breath.
Johanna stumbled to the nurses’ hut, absently noting that Claire was already there, fast asleep. She was barely able to remove her soiled uniform before collapsing on her own narrow cot. Amazingly, sleep didn’t come right away. As she tried to calm her mind, an image came to her of a lovely woman with strawberry-blond hair and eyes as blue as a summer sky. Focusing on Ellie’s smile, she drifted into a blessed, dreamless sleep.
It was as if a wee invisible Ellie had stowed away in Johanna’s pocket to be with her at Hazebrouck. Johanna’s mind and soul were bombarded daily with desperation and pain, but in her most difficult moments, memories came to sustain her—Ellie’s smile that lit up her face like sunshine, her sweet clear voice that calmed and comforted, her gentle touch. She thought about how the men perked up when she came around to care for them, and her unfettered delight in the simple things, like butterscotch sweets or winning a game of cards. But it was the things she’d resolved to put behind her—Ellie’s warm embrace and the sweet taste of her lips—that now tethered her to sanity.
Chapter Twelve
Ten weeks later
Sister Claire was dead. They’d traveled together to that godforsaken clearing station, worked night and day until they could barely move, and somehow managed to get through it. She’d told Johanna about her home, her family, the young man she hoped to marry one day. She was a kind and lovely soul.
Their return to No. 7 and the end of their nightmare in Hazebrouck was so close, but life was cruel. Two days before they were to transfer back to Boulogne, an artillery barrage hit one of the surgical tents, killing a doctor, two nurses, and twenty-seven wounded soldiers. Sister Claire was dead, and Johanna felt broken beyond repair.
As the train crawled the forty miles to Boulogne, she thought about her life before France. Decades ago, it seemed, when she was blissfully unaware of what was to come. Her exhausted brain was bombarded with memories—Da, his feet propped up by the fire, drinking a dram or three of whiskey after a long day on the boat; Mam repairing a rich woman’s torn gown, her rough fingers reddened from a thousand needle sticks; Duncan begging to skip school so he could go fishing. The scenes were so vivid, she could almost reach out and touch them—those dear ones, the center of her life, were gone. Johanna could barely remember who she’d been then, before a heartless sea took her father and brother, and before her heartbroken mother had unselfishly begged her to seek a better life.
Johanna had made her choice, and it had brought her here, a witness to the barbaric destruction of war. Sleep was fractured now, her mind unable to rest because of all her eyes had seen and hands had touched. It had become harder to conjure the memories that sustained her—the comforting arms that had pulled her close, kiss-swollen lips and eyes alight with wonder. Johanna could no longer deny her feelings. She needed Ellie as one needed air, but the unknown tortured her. Was Ellie still there? Would she forgive Johanna for pushing her away, for leaving?
* * *
Ellie was walking to the mess tent when the supply truck lumbered through the far gate. She stopped to watch the orderlies unload it, hoping their emergency requisitions had arrived. Her heart skipped a beat when a familiar figure in a nurse’s uniform stepped out of the vehicle. Oh my God…Johanna? Ellie started to run to her, to see for herself that she was all right, before her brain kicked in and stopped her in her tracks. Will she even want to see me? She’d left weeks ago, volunteered, the others said, to be closer to the front. Ellie knew Johanna’s character—she was an excellent nurse and would never hesitate to help where she was needed, but part of her was convinced that Johanna left to get away from whatever had happened between them.
As Johanna grabbed her bag and walked toward Matron’s office, Ellie felt weak with relief. She’d prayed and prayed for Johanna’s safe return, knowing now the depth of her feelings. She’d convinced herself that she could handle the loss of their friendship as long as she knew Johanna was safe. Now, she wasn’t so sure. Still, Ellie would leave it up to her. She turned, and though the effort felt like pushing against a raging current, she walked the other way.
Later, as Ellie began her shift, Mack came up to her. He was her favorite orderly and a bit of a gossip.
“Sister Lennox is back, you know,” he said. “Heard she’s having a rough time of it, what with Sister Claire getting killed.”
Ellie’s blood ran cold. “What?”
“Yeah, those bloody Germans shelled the place. Thought you knew. Imagine, those poor blokes getting hit in the trenches
and living long enough to get blown to bits in a hospital tent. Can’t make no sense of this goddamn war, and you’ll pardon my language, miss.”
Mack droned on about this and that, but Ellie barely heard him. Sister Claire was dead, the poor soul. Had Johanna been near the attack? She had to be distraught. Ellie went about her tasks, trying to focus on the patients, but the need to check on Johanna was overwhelming. Ellie was due to go on leave in two days—she had to figure out a way to speak to her before then.
* * *
The summer sun was blazing by the time Ellie finished up her shift and stepped outside. She could almost forget the long winter months when she thought she’d never be warm again. She needed to rest but knew the atmosphere in her hut would be oppressive. Grabbing a spare blanket, she headed down to her little cubbyhole by the sea.
The breeze off the water soothed Ellie instantly, and she breathed deeply, taking the fresh air into her lungs. She thanked God for the hundredth time that she’d been sent to a hospital on the coast, for the ocean did more to restore her than anything else. A handful of soon-to-be-discharged convalescents splashed in the waves, laughing and enjoying themselves before being shipped off again to God knew where. Ellie turned away from them and headed back toward the cliff. As she neared her spot, she heard a keening sound, high-pitched and eerie. Her heart hammered in her chest as she stepped slowly around the curve in the rock face.
Johanna was sitting on the sand in civilian clothes, her arms hugging her bent knees. Eyes closed, her tearstained face was raised to the sky as she rocked back and forth, sobbing. Ellie’s head told her to leave, to give her the privacy she’d clearly sought, but her heart broke in the face of such pain. Risking her displeasure, Ellie walked slowly to Johanna, knelt at her back, and gently embraced her. Johanna’s breath caught, but she said nothing.
“I’m here,” Ellie whispered. “I know your pain is deep, but you don’t have to bear it alone. Please don’t push me away.”
Johanna, as if she had no fight left, laid her head back on Ellie’s breast, letting herself be held as she cried. After a while, Ellie eased down to sit beside her, rubbing Johanna’s back as she regained her composure.
“I’m so sorry about Sister Claire,” Ellie said, even while knowing her simple words would never be enough.
Johanna took a deep shuddering breath and picked up a handful of sand, letting it slowly sift through her fingers. “She did so much good. She wasn’t even assigned to that tent, but another nurse had taken ill.” Ellie jumped when Johanna pounded both fists into the sand. “Doesn’t it seem as if the Fates are just playing with us, taking this one and sparing another? Sister Claire didn’t deserve that. It should have been me.”
Ellie was alarmed at the vehemence of Johanna’s words, but she didn’t contradict them. She understood Johanna’s anger and despair, and somehow she knew that Johanna had to move through this pain if she was ever to heal.
“I’ve given up on trying to make sense of this war,” she said after a moment. “But if it’s fate that determines our destiny, I can only believe that you were spared for a reason. I, for one, am beyond grateful.”
Johanna turned to look at Ellie then, doubt clouding her eyes. “I know I hurt you, and yet here you are. Why?”
“That’s a conversation for another time,” Ellie replied, reaching over to tuck a wayward strand of hair behind Johanna’s ear. “For now, I just need to know that you’re all right.”
Johanna nodded, capturing Ellie’s hand in hers. Ellie entwined their fingers, feeling weak with relief. “I’m going on leave tomorrow, to Paris,” she said, “but I don’t want to walk away from you now.”
Johanna searched Ellie’s face, and Ellie prayed she could see her truth in her eyes. “You won’t have to,” Johanna said. “I’m not expected back on duty for three days.”
Ellie’s heart soared in disbelief. “Truly? Why, then you could…”
“Aye. Let’s go to Paris.”
Chapter Thirteen
Serendipity…was that the word? Johanna wondered. Whatever it was, she and Ellie had been granted three days’ leave at the same time. Two other VADs from their hospital were on the train with them, and they kept up appearances, sitting across from each other and engaging in mundane chatter. Johanna knew, though, when Ellie caught her eye, that Ellie wanted them to be alone as much as she did.
When they reached Paris, the others went on their way, and Ellie and Johanna caught a streetcar to their destination.
“Look,” Ellie said, jerking her chin toward the front of the car. “The driver is a woman.”
Her excitement was infectious, and Johanna couldn’t help smiling. They got off the streetcar at the appointed stop and walked a block to a small hotel. There was a café on the ground floor, the rooms on the three floors above.
“Would you like to get a coffee?” Johanna asked, suddenly nervous. The idea of being truly alone with Ellie had her stomach in knots.
“That would be lovely,” Ellie said, her face lighting up. “It’s bound to be better than what we get in the mess.”
They sat at a small ornate iron table, their bags at their feet. Johanna ordered two coffees, lightened with milk the way the French liked it. They sipped the beverages and looked around at their little corner of Paris. Ellie exclaimed with delight over the little things—a planter of colorful pansies by the café door, an old man whistling as he rode by on his bicycle, the bold pigeon that hopped over and pecked her shoe. Johanna was charmed by Ellie’s youthful enthusiasm, and she couldn’t take her eyes off her.
Ellie looked more at ease without her uniform on, as if civilian clothes removed a weight from her shoulders. Her dress was a lovely peach color that complemented the subtle shades of her hair and the cream of her complexion. She’d put on some lipstick, the lively color drawing Johanna’s eyes to her mouth. She’d never looked at a woman, noticing all the finer details, as she did now with Ellie. She was so very beautiful.
“What?” Ellie said, one eyebrow quirking up.
“Just appreciating the view,” Johanna said, watching Ellie’s cheeks flush in response to her boldness.
“You flatter me. You’re looking quite lovely yourself.”
Johanna looked down at her sage-green dress. Her mother had made it as a going-away gift before she left for training in London. Johanna had scolded her for spending too much on the fabric, and the memory pained her now.
“Johanna? What is it?”
“This dress was the last thing my mother gave me,” she said, avoiding Ellie’s eyes. She drained the rest of her coffee and stood, nearly knocking over the table. She would not cry in public. “I’ll go check us in.”
She felt Ellie behind her as she stood at the hotel desk. The concierge looked them over, then handed Johanna the room key. “Merci,” she said. Glancing at Ellie, she headed for the lift that would take them to their third floor room.
They didn’t speak a word until they’d entered the room. Ellie put her bag at the foot of the closest twin bed and turned to her.
“Are you all right, Johanna?”
The gentle way Ellie said her name nearly started her crying. She nodded, not trusting her voice.
Ellie looked at her for a long moment, then sat on the edge of the bed, smoothing her hands over the chenille bedspread. “This will feel like heaven tonight, but I’ve got to have a proper bath first.”
“What about dinner?” Johanna said, regaining her voice.
“I’m perfectly happy with room service, if you are.”
Johanna nodded, relieved. She didn’t want to be around other people tonight. “Go ahead with your bath. I’ll find the menu and order us something.”
Ellie smiled as she rummaged around in her bag. She pulled out a nightgown and disappeared behind the heavy curtain that separated the bedroom and bathroom. Johanna hunted around for a menu and, finding none, rang the concierge. He gave the meal choices, apologizing profusely for the limited fare that strict rationing had fo
rced. Twenty minutes later, the food arrived. Ellie had still not emerged from the bath.
“Ellie, our dinner is here.” When she didn’t respond, Johanna called out again, then eased the curtain aside. Ellie was reclining in the claw-foot tub, head resting on the edge, sound asleep. A mixture of tenderness and desire washed over Johanna, leaving her breathless. The water came to just above Ellie’s waist, leaving her pale breasts exposed. Johanna looked away, face hot, and grabbed a towel.
“Ellie, wake up, lass,” she said, holding up the towel as a barrier. She heard a gasp and the splash of water.
“Oh my goodness, I fell asleep. I’m sorry, Johanna. The water was so warm, and I—”
“Don’t fash, Ellie. Come now…our food is getting cold.” More splashing, then Ellie took the towel and wrapped it around her body. She looked at Johanna, face flushed, tendrils of wet hair a darker red against her porcelain skin.
“Thank you,” she said, glancing away. Johanna stepped back, fighting the urge to pull Ellie’s clean, warm, lavender-scented body into her arms.
“I’ll, uh, leave you to dress, then.” Johanna quickly stepped around the curtain, her body buzzing like a live wire. She’d always viewed a nude body in a clinical, detached sort of way, but the sight of Ellie’s loveliness stirred up feelings she’d never experienced before.
Ellie emerged wearing a white bathrobe, a small luxury the hotel had provided. They dined on a savory fish and vegetable stew with thick slices of brown bread. “Mmm,” Ellie said, moaning between mouthfuls. “This is perhaps the best meal I’ve ever eaten.”
“Somehow I doubt that,” Johanna replied, smirking. “Not everyone has their own personal chef.”
“Nor do I,” Ellie said, lifting her chin in defiance. “Cook has been with our family since my father was a boy, but she isn’t a trained chef.”
While My Heart Beats Page 8