Mercy Road

by Ann Howard Creel

  Cass wore her faraway face again, but this time it felt as though her thoughts mirrored mine. I had to believe she had slipped away to somewhere pleasant. It took a long time for her to respond, and her voice came surprisingly soft, her eyes, too, as she gazed back at me. “Are you sure about that?”

  I remembered when she’d gone out in the middle of the night back in Neufmoutiers. Perhaps she really had met someone during the short time we’d been there, and perhaps it had made a powerful impact on her, and she remembered it now as I remembered Jimmy. Again and again, I wondered why she’d never told me.

  This conversation had started with Brohammer, and he came back to mind like a shell hole I’d just fallen into. “Most of the time, I think love at first sight makes a travesty of real love,” I slowly answered.

  The pleasant expression vanished from Cass’s face then, and she shoved her hair behind her ears. “This war is a travesty.”

  Just that day, the field hospital in Marolles had become so crowded, the staff had to put many of the stretcher cases, in addition to ambulatory patients, out in the rain before arranging transportation to Meaux. Those battered men lay outside, drenched and shivering, and when finally loaded in our ambulances, they still could not keep their teeth from chattering.

  We drove them away in complete silence soon interrupted by a man in Cass’s ambulance whose leg had been amputated. He’d probably received some morphine after surgery, but it wore off during the drive to Meaux. He screamed, prayed, cursed, and wept so loudly I could hear it in my ambulance. Maybe he had just realized that most of his leg was gone. Still, Cass and I continued on helplessly with nothing else to do but keep driving.

  Not a single good thing had happened all day.

  Recalling all of it as I stood with Cass, I pressed my hands into my cheeks, then said, “I suppose we could always leave. We came here voluntarily, after all.”

  Cass looked astonished. “Never” was all she said.

  A night breeze had made its way into the courtyard, and I rubbed my arms. “But if you don’t believe in it any longer . . .”

  Her face showed offense. “When did I say that?”

  “Our first day here, when you were upset.”

  “Precisely. I was upset.”

  “I was only thinking of you.”

  “My God, Arlene,” she said, waving me off with dismay. “I would never leave. You should know that. My God,” she said again. “You don’t know me at all.”

  Stung, I tried to figure out how to respond to Cass, then a sound behind me broke my train of thought. I turned around and looked up and into Jimmy’s face. A face I had never needed as much as I did in that moment. Jimmy, finally, as if the strength of my desire had summoned him here. He was so shiny clean that night, his eyes open and sweet.

  “You found me,” I blurted out, and my eyes started to sting. Yes, being startled could be good, very good. I could’ve floated out of my shoes and into the heavens above, only I’d pause to grab hold of Jimmy and take him with me. “I thought I’d never see you again.”

  He smiled in the kindest, most lopsided way. “Now, you ought to know I’d never let that happen.”

  Suddenly remembering Cass, I turned and took her arm and brought her beside me. “This is my dear friend Cass, another ambulance driver.”

  “Hello, dear friend Cass, another ambulance driver,” Jimmy said and took her hand lightly.

  She said, “Hello to you as well, and never fear, I’m leaving you two alone. This is definitely a case of ‘three’s a crowd.’” Her anger with me had apparently abated as fast as it had arrived, and she looked pleased. Of course Jimmy had already charmed her without even trying. “Just don’t get lost.” She gave me a half-smile then, and I knew she meant Don’t get lost in the moment. But then she cocked her head and said, “You’re one lucky girl, aren’t you?”

  I nodded. Sometimes Cass was opaque to me, and this was one of those moments. I watched her leave.

  As soon as I turned back to Jimmy, my heart beating faster, I grasped the sides of my skirt. “I didn’t meet you that night because of worry about Cass. She hasn’t fared as well as I’d expected, and that night I realized how much she had broken under the pressure. I couldn’t leave her alone.”

  Jimmy stood still, soaking it in, his eyes planted on mine, but I perceived only empathy and nothing more. “Hello to you, too,” he said with a wry little smile. I think he had said those very words to me on that snowy day in the stables.

  “I’m sorry; I just have so much to say. Have you been in Charly?”

  “Most of the time, yes.”

  He simply studied me then, and I caved under his gaze and gave in to every impulse that surged through me. “I’ve felt sick about not showing up that night. I expected to find you the next morning and explain myself. I’ve worried so much about what you might think, and I’ve looked for you everywhere. Someway, somehow, I knew I’d find you.”

  His smile widened and added to the pull he exerted on me. “I assumed you’d forgotten, that I hadn’t made much of an impression.”

  “You did. Of course you did,” I said and then quickly continued: “I wanted to see you that night. I wanted it badly. I’m so sorry, Jimmy. What you must have thought of me . . .”

  He blinked, and his eyes landed on me like a gentle caress. I put my hand on his cheek, just as I’d done on that first night, and again he held it there and closed his eyes, and it was exactly as before—it was everything, and the world and life came down to only this. Now the future unfurled before me as clearly as a path that led only one way. When he opened his eyes, he didn’t speak. Then he slowly lowered my hand and gave it back to me.

  I didn’t know how to take that. “Oh, Jimmy, do you forgive me? I do hope you understand and can put it behind us. Now you’re here, and it feels like an answered prayer. I can’t believe it. This is the best thing that has happened in . . . forever.”

  He nodded.

  Glancing about first, I asked, “Do you want to get away from here for a while? I still haven’t walked the streets of Meaux or climbed that tower.”

  He looked down and seemed to study his feet, then gazed back at me. “Did you really plan to meet me that night? Like I said, I assumed you’d forgotten or maybe . . . come to your senses.”

  “Of course I did. I mean, I did plan to meet you, that is.” I’d become too flustered and excited; I needed to calm down. “I’m no longer that girl who always obeys. I’m not letting anyone else make decisions for me now, and I never will again.”

  He looked toward his feet once more, his eyes remaining downcast for a while. He murmured, “‘Never’ is a strong word.”

  Fear climbed up my body. Maybe he wouldn’t or couldn’t forgive me after all. But then why the sweet touch?

  By then he appeared as if he got a grip on something, and he faced me again, his expression ever the sweeter. But he said, “I shouldn’t have asked you. You’re in a susceptible way, and I was being selfish.”

  I shifted my weight. “What do you mean?”

  “When I asked you to meet me later that night, I was being selfish. You said you’d agreed not to get involved with any soldiers, and I shouldn’t have asked you to break your promises and take chances. Of course I forgive you, Arlene. You were right not to come, even if you had intended to come. Perhaps the distraction Cass provided did you a favor. I shouldn’t have asked, and I won’t ask you again.”

  I rocked back on my heels as if I’d been slapped, and the warmth in my cheeks drained away in the time it took me to blink. Had he really said he wouldn’t ask me again? “I-I don’t understand.”

  In the softest voice he said, “We have to finish our work here . . . first and foremost, we need to do that . . . and maybe I need to prove some things to myself.”

  Duty first—that didn’t sound like the Jimmy I knew. I took a step back, even though I wanted to sink into his arms. And what did he have to prove to himself? Maybe that he was more than just a stable boy
? I didn’t know. “I’m sorry . . . again . . . so sorry.”

  I could barely hear him whisper, “I’m sorry, too.”

  Fighting to swallow, I wrapped my arms about myself. “When I saw you the first time in this place . . . it really did feel like the answer to a prayer, and everything suddenly came together inside me so clearly. I was sure of it; I still am.” I paused and searched his eyes. Even though they remained full of compassion, I couldn’t read anything else there. Blindsided and also blind, even so, I glimpsed Dr. Kitchens walking nearby, across the courtyard. Maybe she saw us, and obviously my conversation with Jimmy was not a casual one, but I no longer cared. “And now seeing you again tonight, it’s all back. I’ve never felt so strongly about anything.”

  Jimmy said, “I’m the one who should apologize. I’m not going to ask you to take a drive or a walk in the town. I understand now how it might look. You’re probably supposed to stay away, especially from us lowly recruits—we come from different worlds—and if I convinced you to do something that ended up hurting you, I’d regret it too much.”

  His caution could not be real. Jimmy had always struck me as a bit of a daredevil, a risk-taker. “It’s my decision, what I do.”

  “Of course, Arlene, but you’re in a weakened state. You’ve just arrived at the front, you’re worried about your friend, and you’ve only recently . . . buried your father.”

  His words true, of course, but I’d never felt so sure of myself. Perhaps I had, as they say, risen to the occasion. I did my job and, according to others, I did it well. No longer a pampered daughter, I had left that girl back in Kentucky.

  I took a step closer to Jimmy, and the distance between us closed to mere inches. I could feel the heat from his breath, see the pores in his tanned skin. I worked to sound convincing; after all, I spoke the truth. “I can see clearly. I can make decisions.”

  He didn’t respond, just kept looking at me with the strangest but most beautiful combination of adoration and concern.

  I continued: “I do want to see you away from here. I want to see you alone.”

  He raked his hands through his hair, and I saw surprise on his face along with some torment. “I’m sorry,” he whispered as his hands came to a rest again at his sides. “I just don’t think it’s a good idea.”

  His words like a punch, my muscles nearly gave way. I spun around, too injured to face him now. I swiped away a stray tear. Surely Jimmy hadn’t meant what he said. Surely he would hold on to me and tell me everything was alright. But he didn’t, and the moments passed as if endless.

  Finally he put his hands on my shoulders and gently turned me around. “I didn’t know you felt this way, Arlene. Especially since you didn’t show up that night. For a moment I had kind of a wild dream, but it wasn’t a real dream.”

  I drew in a ragged breath. “But it was; it still is, a real dream.”

  “No,” he said softly, his voice rich with conviction, cutting me to the core. “It can’t be.”

  I wanted to scream, But it can! Somehow I held myself in check; I had no right to demand him to profess feelings for me. “Why, then, did you come into the courtyard tonight? Why did you come over when you saw me? You could’ve kept away.”

  “Arlene,” he said, looking ever so regretful. “It doesn’t mean I can’t check on you. I still want to see you. I’m more experienced here, and maybe I can help you get through it. The most important thing is for you to survive this, get back to the living, and return to your life back home.”

  “That life is over.”

  He closed his eyes. “No, it isn’t.”

  I swallowed twice against a thick sensation in my throat. “I’m working to get at least some of it back, but without Papa, nothing . . .”

  Studying me softly again, he said, “Dear, sweet Arlene, you’ll succeed; it runs in your blood. I knew it the first time I saw you riding a horse way too big for you, and yet you handled that animal like a queen.”

  I nodded repeatedly until I realized what I was doing and stopped. I must have looked like a madwoman, one whose heart continued to beat despite the hole ripped all the way through it.

  Jimmy went on: “I’ll always be your friend. If I can ever help you with anything—I mean anything at all—just say the word.”

  I stared up into the blackest sky I’d ever seen. Even the starlight had dimmed. How ironic that the man who didn’t interest me pursued me, but the man who could have so easily held my heart in his hand had chosen to let me go. Jimmy didn’t share my feelings, or else he’d opted not to act on them. Either way, he had just pushed me away.

  A moment later I gathered myself together, even though I could make no sense of his decision. The way he’d held my hand pressed to his cheek, twice now, had seemed the most loving and hopeful and intimate thing. It had meant everything to me, but perhaps to Jimmy, it amounted to nothing more than friendly affection.

  Of course I would take his friendship—at least I would remain in his life in some way. I would take whatever he offered, even if I wanted more. The feeling of refusal was new to me; I’d almost always received what I wanted. Perhaps yes, Papa had spoiled me.

  Then, to my horror, an image of Brohammer swept across my pupils like the flash of light from an exploding bomb. Maybe I had more in common with the captain than I realized. Maybe I didn’t know how to accept a rebuff, either.

  “What is it?” Jimmy asked me as I dropped my gaze from the sky and shuffled my feet in the dirt below. He said, “Something else is bothering you.”

  He had no clue how much damage he’d done. Would his offer of friendship hold true? I hated that Brohammer had crossed my mind. “It’s the strangest thing . . .”

  “What?” Jimmy said.

  I shook my head.

  He insisted: “Tell me.”

  Shaking my head again, I replied, “It’s probably nothing.”

  “Let me be the judge of that.”

  “A captain I know. A very strange and vain man. I don’t like him, but for some inexplicable reason, he keeps after me. The other night when he found me here, after I’d said again I wouldn’t go out with him, I walked past a couple of French soldiers lounging about and watching us. I heard them say in a disgusted manner something about making money off his own men.” I paused. “Do you have any idea what that means?”

  Jimmy listened, then looked focused on an internal deliberation, as though his mind spun with new and unexpected thoughts, but he held his eyes wide open. They shined brightly with awareness of this moment, sharply, as if something very important had dawned on him. “They said that? That he made money off his own men?”

  “Yes, they spoke in French, and they didn’t think I could understand.”

  He rubbed his forehead. Then he touched my arm. “Are you sure, Arlene?”

  “Yes,” I answered. “What are you thinking about? What does it mean?”

  He rubbed his forehead again and then scratched his head. Almost sheepishly he answered, “You’ll probably have a hard time believing this, but I’ve heard rumors that some big-shot American officer is making a tidy profit by selling high-quality barbed-wire gloves and wire cutters at a hefty price to the men on the line and in the trenches. The other day a dying soldier in my ambulance pulled a pair of wire cutters out of his pocket and asked me to pass them along to a man in the infantry. Any man. Before I honored his request and gave them away, I took a closer look. They weren’t army issue.” I made myself concentrate as he continued: “The army doesn’t have enough of those tools, and the ones they had in the beginning were of poor quality. Many have been lost or destroyed and never replaced. But here this officer and a few of his trusted comrades come along and offer the tools that might very well save soldiers’ lives—but only if they pay up big-time. I hear he’s making a small fortune off the men.”

  I tensed as he spoke.

  “He uses intermediaries who won’t talk—yes, how convenient—so no one knows for sure who’s behind it, except now maybe . . . you.
”

  Now I rubbed my forehead, trying to take it all in and imagine the ramifications if this proved true. “If people know someone is doing this, why don’t you all report it to your superior officers?”

  He half laughed. “First of all, the men in the trenches aren’t going to report someone who’s supplying them with things that might keep them alive, and those of us who would report it haven’t had a name or any proof. Imagine a lowly driver like me accusing an officer of a crime, based on a rumor.”

  “Do you really think an American officer is doing this?”

  He said, “I have no reason not to believe the men who mentioned it to me.”

  “Do you think it could be the man I know?”

  “It sure sounds like it.”

  I made myself wrap my mind around this new information. Brohammer still considered me his girlfriend. “Maybe I can find out.”

  “Oh no,” Jimmy said, leaning just slightly backward. “Don’t you dare try to get any information from him. In fact, steer clear of that man. He has to be the most self-serving man on the planet if he’s doing what we think he’s doing.”

  My heart raced, and I had to bat my eyes and glance away. So perhaps Brohammer didn’t suffer from shell shock after all, but instead had an evil nature that could commit a crime against his own, taking advantage of people even during these most desperate of days.

  “So, who is he?” Jimmy asked.

  And now I had involved Jimmy. I turned back to him. “What would you do if I told you?”

  I watched him try to temper his reaction. “Don’t worry, I’m not going to seek him out and walk up and accuse him of anything. It’s not my place. But I’m near the lines and around the infantry enough to do some digging around. I could probably find out if he’s the culprit.”

  I hesitated, afraid that knowing Brohammer’s name might bring trouble to Jimmy.

  “Come on. You can’t just tell me what you heard and then not give me his name.”

  “Yes, I can.”