by Julie Rowe
“Nan and Jesper can do it. You’ve already told them what to do.”
He snorted, stood and waved at her to go out the door.
Rose turned to Nan, who stood out of the way, waiting for further instructions. “Send a message if his fever should worsen or continue for more than a day. Tie him down if you have to, but don’t let him damage himself.”
“We’ll take good care of him, ma’am.”
The doctor stopped in the doorway, took one last look at his brother and then continued down the stairs.
Rose followed, collecting her cloak from Jesper before joining Dr. Geoff in the coach. He still had the bottle of brandy.
“Does getting drunk help?”
“Not really.”
“Then why do it?”
“It lets me pretend nothing’s wrong for a little while.” He leaned forward and braced his elbows on his knees. “It allows me to believe, for an hour or two, that no matter how badly I’ve disfigured my brother, it was the right decision.”
She frowned. “It was the right decision.”
“I doubt Rodney will ever forgive me for it.” He took another swig of brandy. “I wouldn’t blame him if he doesn’t.”
“You’re not responsible for his anger or fear, that’s up to him to face. You saved his life. You’ve given him another chance at sharing the gifts God gave him with the world.”
Dr. Geoff narrowed his eyes at her. “Does nothing scare you? Make you feel low?”
“Many things. I chose to ignore them when I can.”
“And when you can’t?”
“I pray.”
“Bloody valkyrie,” he muttered. “Do you ever wish you had someone to hold you in the dark hours of the night?”
She looked away, unable to maintain eye contact while answering such an intimate question, and found herself breathless. “Sometimes.”
“Who?” His voice sounded like a growl and her gaze flew back to his in surprise.
She opened her mouth, to give what answer she didn’t know, but the coach jerked to a stop and she snapped her jaw shut.
The door opened, but neither she nor Dr. Geoff moved. Finally, she got up and out, walking as calmly as she could to the hospital’s front door.
Thank God they’d arrived when they did, because there was only one answer she could have given. Him.
She could hear his footfalls as he followed.
“You’re not going to give me his name, are you?”
His question froze her for two long seconds, then she turned to face him. “He is only a dream. One I sometimes wish I could forget.”
She left him standing in the entry with a frown on his face.
Rose entered her office and hung up her cloak. Taking a deep breath, she sat down behind her desk. There was business to take care of that couldn’t wait another minute. The deepest drawer had a false back. She pulled out a slim packet of paper and poked her nose out the door. No one was about, so she headed for the kitchen, watching for anyone still up who might see her.
Though it was a moonless night, she managed to make her way to the shed without tripping. “Hello?”
“Ma’am?” Her Lincoln soldier.
“You need to leave as soon as possible. It’s not safe here.” She pulled a map out of her pocket and handed it to him along with all the money she had. “This will guide you out of the city and to the Netherlands. Safe areas to cross the border are marked. Travel at night and through fields. Stay away from the roads. Are there are few apples left in those barrels?”
“Yes, ma’am.”
“Take as many as you can and stuff them in your pockets. I’m sorry there isn’t more I can give you.”
“Thank you for everything. You’re in my prayers.”
“As you are in mine. Goodbye.”
“Goodbye and God bless.”
“Who the devil are you talking to?”
She whirled to confront the angry question, her heart stuttering in her chest. “Who’s there?”
“Who do you think?” Dr. Geoff’s voice got closer, then the man himself materialized out of the night, brandy bottle in hand. He wobbled a little, but came to a stop only a few feet in front of her. “Are you talking to a man out here?”
Panic shook her hands and made it impossible to breathe. She had to fight to force air past her vocal chords. “Just a lost soul.”
“A lost soul?” He sounded incredulous. “A soul who’s eating our apples?”
Behind her the Brit’s breathing was so loud she wondered if the whole city could hear him. “Hunger makes beggars out of everyone.”
“Hunger,” the doctor said, taking an unsteady half step towards her. “Should run. There are a dozen completely healthy German soldiers stationed in the house across the street. Some of them are even sober.”
After a long pause when no one breathed, the echo of running footsteps broke the silence. A few seconds later, the sound trailed off until the quiet was all that remained.
“Hunger is fast.” He sounded...amused.
“A...farmer lost his way and hadn’t eaten in some time,” she said quietly, hopefully. Would he believe her? “I gave him directions and some apples.” Would he believe the truth? “I couldn’t refuse to help.”
“What if he’d been an enemy soldier or a man with nefarious intentions towards you?”
If a drunk man could accurately guess she’d helped, anyone could. “I...I...”
“It never occurred to you that a man approaching our backdoor in the middle of the night might not be simply lost or hungry? Might have other desires in mind?”
Desires? She couldn’t stop the tone of disbelief that coloured her voice. “What is there to desire here? This place smells of decay and death, there are soldiers all around and darkness invades every corner.” She turned away to look out into the night. “There’s nothing here that any man would want.”
Dr. Geoff put his hand under her chin and urged her to meet his gaze. What she saw there, the naked need stamped on his features, made her breath catch in her throat. “To many, the softness of a woman, even one with bloodstains on her dress, is a luxury they can barely remember.”
Realization made her mouth go dry. Was it his own desire he warned her about? Men said all kinds of things while drunk. Few of them true. Licking her lips, she said, “I had to help. There’s no other way for me.”
He stared at her mouth and leaned in so close she thought he might kiss her. “It’s a way that will to lead to your ruin. I don’t want to see you get hurt. Stop while you still can.”
“I—”
He reared back. “You’re still arguing?” He cut her off with a wave of his hand that unbalanced him and nearly set him on his behind. He stumbled about for a moment before finding his feet again. “Enough. Go inside and get some sleep.”
“Yes, sir.” She gave him a wide berth and followed his order, escaping into the hospital, but sleep wasn’t likely to come easy.
She managed to get a couple hours’ rest in the large overstuffed chair in her office, but rose early to write treatment notes on the patients in the hospital. Dr. Geoff was quite adamant about writing things down, wanting a record to show the military how much work was done and to justify personnel. Rose agreed with his logic, but not everyone viewed the results of war logically. Many of the officers she’d met were solely focused on the destruction of lives, not their reconstruction.
A noise attracted her attention. Dr. Geoff stood in her doorway. Weaving slightly.
“Sir?” She made a move to go around her desk. “How can I help—”
“Sit, sit.” He flapped his hand at her like a piece of paper flying about in a stiff wind.
She sat, frowning. Her gut churned a warning. Something wasn’t right.
“I need to s-say s-something to you,” he said as he lurched into the room and shut the door behind him. He smiled somewhat lopsided. “I’ve been meaning to say it for some time.”
“Dr. Geoff, are you still drunk?
”
Chapter Three
“God I hope so. I really, really do.” He stumbled to her desk then braced his hands on its surface. They were quite possibly the only things holding him up.
Oh, dear.
“What was it you wanted to tell me?”
He blinked at her. “Hmm? Oh yes, I want to tell you...”
She came around the desk and slipped one shoulder under his and her arm around his back. The heat of a blush crept up her neck and face. How often had she dreamed of being in his arms?
“What are you doing?” He sounded genuinely curious. He was so close, yet he’d never been so far away.
“Helping you to the chair over there.” She nodded at the large chair she’d napped in earlier. She’d found it reasonably comfortable, but Dr. Geoff was much taller and broader at the shoulders than she was. They staggered towards the chair, weaving one way then another. His right knee gave out, and he nearly took her with him to the floor.
She squeaked, held on and all but dumped him into the chair.
“Did I hurt you?” he asked, his head not at all stable on his neck. “Did I? I did, didn’t I? I’m sorry, so sorry.”
“No, no, I’m fine, Doctor,” she hastened to reassure him. “You didn’t hurt me.”
“But it’s inevitable. You’re going to get hurt.”
She watched with amazement as a tear tracked its way down his face.
“Rodney got hurt.” He laughed, but it was sad rather than happy. “Hurt in a way I’ll never be able to fix.”
“We can’t fix everything, sir.”
He patted her cheek, his hand lingering, caressing her skin. “So soft.” That hand slipped behind her head and pulled her down.
Her breath caught as his lips met hers in a kiss that shocked her. It lasted two full seconds. Two seconds of surprise, then curiosity, then the beginnings of pleasure.
He released her as fast as he’d grabbed her.
His gaze focused on her face. “They’re determined to catch you, Rose.” He poked her shoulder with an index finger. “They know what you’re doing. What you did. They know. Do you understand me?”
Though her face was numb with shock, her lips managed to recite the careful words she’d been saying all along. “I don’t know wh—”
He shook his head. “Rose, you’ve been a very bad girl. Or is it good? You saved their lives. Those men you hid here, and right under my nose too.” He laughed again. This time it sounded proud. His head fell back and his eyes closed. “A very good girl.”
For a moment there was absolute silence, then he began to snore.
She plucked a wrap from the back of the desk chair and draped it over him. “I know, sir. I know.”
She knew very well what they would do.
They would kill her.
* * *
Rose moved from man to man, checking temperatures and changing bandages, with none of her usual morning energy. Those few hours of sleep in her office hadn’t been enough.
She’d tried to continue her notes after Dr. Geoff delivered his drunken warning and kiss, but found it impossible to concentrate. Visions of kissing him before soldiers dragged her out of the hospital and shot her invaded her imagination. She finally gave up on the notes and began a round of dressing changes on a room full of recovering soldiers.
She finished with one man and was moving to the next when a distressed moan across the room caught her attention. She made her way over to a man whose arm was waving about weakly.
“Tut, tut,” she said, keeping her voice soft. “I’m here. I’m here.” She let the man catch her hand and draw her close, hugging it to his chest. His whole body shook.
“Eve, it’s you.” His voice trembled even more than the rest of him. “My God, darling, what are you doing in this horrible place?”
“What place is that?” Rose asked carefully. He was looking in her direction, but his gaze seemed unfocused. As if he could see things that weren’t in the room.
“The trenches. It’s quiet now, but the shooting will start soon, the artillery. The bodies, Eve,” he cried out on a sob. “There are so many bodies.”
“Sweetheart.” She caressed his forehead with her free hand. He felt very hot. Infection? “We’re in a hospital. I’ve come to nurse you.”
“Really?”
“Yes, darling. You’re safe.”
He relaxed a bit and she took the opportunity to lean in close and attempt to detect the smell of gangrene, but with all the other smells in the room, she couldn’t perceive it. Gangrene was the most common infection she saw, but not the only one. Sometimes, there wasn’t a smell at all.
He coughed and struggled to breathe. “And the children?”
“Safe too, my darling.”
He smiled. “I’ve missed you.”
She put her fingers on his pulse and its rapid decrease told her he didn’t have much longer. “I missed you too.” There was a noise at the door, but she didn’t take her eyes off the dying man. “Never forget, I love you.”
“I lo...” The soldier’s last breath died with his final words.
Rose would have to see if his wife’s direction was somewhere on his person. She’d write to the poor woman and tell her his final thoughts were of her and their family.
A man cleared his throat, but she ignored it to wipe the tears from her own face.
“When was the last time you ate something, Nurse?”
Dr. Geoff’s voice jerked her head up as if on a string. “Oh, I...I...” When had she eaten last?
“That long, eh?”
“I’ve been immersed in work, sir.” No point in lying. At least about this.
He peered at her, a frown creasing his brow. “How much sleep did you get?”
She gave him a weak smile. “Last night or since the war started?”
“Rose,” he said in a tone meant to take her to task.
“Four hours, sir.”
When she said nothing more, he asked, “Last night or since the war started?”
She allowed a small smile to lift her lips before schooling her features into the bland expression she usually wore. “Yes, sir.”
He grunted. “You’re enough to drive a man to drink.”
She struggled to keep her tone light. “Is that what happened?”
He shot her a hard glare. “No.” He opened his mouth, then glanced at the other occupants of the room. “Carry on. I want your notes on every patient here by midafternoon.” Turning to leave, he said over his shoulder, “And eat something before you faint.”
“Yes, sir,” she said to the empty doorway.
She closed the dead man’s eyes, then covered his face with a blanket before moving on to a young man whose wound seemed to be healing fine. “And I thought my commanding officer was tough.”
She busied herself with removing his bandage. “Dr. Geoff has to be, but he’s also fair. He’s saved hundreds of lives.”
The soldier didn’t look convinced. “Yeah?”
She put a new bandage on him and tied it off. “Yes. Including yours.”
“He shouldn’t speak like that to a proper lady like yourself.”
“What about a sister? You’d talk to your sister like that wouldn’t you?”
“Ma’am,” the young soldier said. “I saw the look on his face. He doesn’t think of you like a sister.”
She tried to laugh at the idea. “I’m sure you’re imagining things. The doctor has a professional respect for me, nothing more or less.”
“Respect doesn’t get worried or angry with you for not eating or sleeping enough.”
She paused, her hands frozen on the blanket she was tucking around him. She lifted her gaze to meet his.
He smiled at her. “I have four older sisters. All married.”
“Really?”
“Yes, ma’am. I figure I’m going to be about the best husband in the world when I finally meet the right girl.”
“I have no doubt.” Laughter lightened the load
on her soul. “Thank you.”
“Thank you.” His free hand touched the spot on his chest where the bullet had entered his body. “I know he doesn’t work alone.”
She left the room before the soldier’s gratitude turned her into a water fountain.
Rose completed her rounds and worked on preparing the report Dr. Geoff asked for while eating a bowl of soup made with vegetables a farmer had left on the back doorstep. The hospital was full with some sixty men. It would take a few hours to complete.
A sharp knock on the door interrupted her thoughts.
“Come in.”
Dr. Geoff entered and closed the door. His gaze went to the steaming bowl on the desk in front of her. “Good, you’re eating.”
“Yes, sir. Thanks to a farmer’s generosity, there’s quite a good soup on the stove.”
He nodded. “Your notes?”
“Will be finished on time.”
“Good. I’ll add my own then send it on to Berlin.”
“Of course.”
He stared at the floor and seemed unusually hesitant.
“Sir, are you feeling well?”
“My stomach was a bit delicate earlier,” he said, “but I’m fine now.”
“Yes, sir.”
Dr. Geoff ran a hand through his already messy hair. “Stop calling me sir, Rose.” He dropped into the same chair he’d slept in only hours before.
“What should I call you?”
“How about Herman? Every time you say sir, I look around for a German officer.”
She bit her lip. “You are a German officer.”
He glared at her. “Don’t you remind me.”
She stayed silent and watched him struggle with whatever was bothering him. He was, without a doubt, unhappy.
“Would you like some tea? I find it helps settle my stomach and my mind.”
“I could use some settling.”
She nodded and lit the small burner on the sideboard where her teapot sat.
“Why are you here, Rose?”
She turned. “Where else should I be?”
“At home, safe in England.”
She shook her head. “There is no safe place during a war, not really. Years ago, I dedicated my life to serving the sick and injured, just as my father dedicated his life to serving God and the people of his parish. This is my place.”