“Did it work?”
She broke eye contact. “No. He died and I cared.”
“What about Velia? Did you care about her?” There was a hard edge to his words.
Here it came. She didn’t give him a chance to say something nasty. “She was my best friend there. I would have given anything ..." She swallowed hard around her agony. “I would have given anything to have saved her.”
Anger returned to his eyes, as if he’d needed her words to remember why he hated her so much. He grunted. “When I heard how she died, and the nurses there told me that she’d traded places with you that day because you didn’t feel like working ..." He shook his head. “Jesus. I wanted to find you then. Wanted to ask you why you were lazy. Why you couldn’t have died instead of her.”
Misery twisted inside her. “Why don’t you just say it, Captain Hale? Say what you wanted to that first day you came to Tranquil View.” She glared at him, fired up before he could get the chance to show his anger first. “You would have if they hadn’t dragged you away. You would have done whatever you wanted to me.” She turned full toward him. “Would it make you happy to know I would have traded my life for hers in a heartbeat?”
She expected hot words, but he suddenly seemed speechless. His mouth twisted, as if words hovered near but he couldn’t form them. She closed her eyes as the tears came anyway. They poured in a hot rush, an attack she couldn’t command or direct. She didn’t sob, but her mind whirled with shame. She stood, ready to escape.
He stood as well. “Don’t walk away from me.”
She opened her eyes, but could barely see him through tears. “I don’t care if you hate me, Captain Hale. Say what you wanted to say that day and then leave me the hell alone. There isn’t anything you could say to me that would make me feel worse than I already do about Velia. Nothing.”
“I still don’t like you Annabelle. You want to know why?”
She snorted. “No, but I’m sure you’ll tell me anyway.”
“Because when I went to the Red Cross to search for you, I had to lie to them that I was looking for you because you meant so much to my sister. You see, she wrote about you to me. She told me what a kind, wonderful person you were. She said I’d love you and that she hoped I’d get to meet you someday. After I learned why she’d died, I hated you and I couldn’t stop. After the Red Cross told me they didn’t know where you’d gone, but they thought you planned to work at a soldier’s asylum in Colorado, I took the chance it might be this one. I phoned and found out it was. I couldn’t get here fast enough. I didn’t know exactly what I’d say, but I knew it would be hateful. Then I saw this beautiful woman being abused by a soldier, and I couldn’t let that happen. When I realized who you were, it made me mad as hell that I’d saved you.” His chest moved up and down quickly as his breath came shorter, his eyes flashing. “Two seconds later I was ashamed because that’s not who I am. I couldn’t harm one hair on your head even if you’d thrown the artillery at her yourself.”
More tears poured down her cheeks. She couldn’t take this. She couldn’t absorb the emotions coming in waves from him. She dared to lock eyes with him, and behind the anger she saw another emotion as turbulent and deadly. To her total shock, his strong arms gathered her close against his chest. Not tightly, but with a gentleness and concern that destroyed her defenses. She buried her face in his shoulder, her arms around his waist. She inhaled his warm, masculine scent and the amazing comfort his support brought. He might hate her again in a few minutes, but right now it felt as if he wished with everything inside him that he could take away her pain.
Reality punched her. What if someone saw them like this? She pulled out of his arms and stepped back. A sob escaped her throat. “Don’t. Just don’t.”
His damned eyes. So hot and understanding and passionate in a way she’d never seen in another man. It made her ache and dream and long for forbidden things. Things she was quite sure she’d never experienced before. Danger lurked in this direction.
“Why did you hold me?” she asked. “Are you playing a game with me?”
He shook his head. “I don’t know.”
She balled up her right fist and made a defiant motion. “Look, Captain Hale, I’ve seen how a woman can fall to a soldier’s charm. They lost the men they cared about and along with that, lost their reason to live. A man is never going to be all that I live for. They’re never going to twist my mind into little bits until I cannot think for myself. My aunt is like that. She does and says whatever my uncle wants her to. I refuse to go that direction.”
He made a sound of exasperation. “I never in a million years would expect a woman to do or say what I told her to. I’ve seen enough of that with my own mother. My father can be a first rate son-of-a-bitch to her and I don’t like it. He taught me to respect women ... other women that aren’t my mother. He’s a hypocrite. Hell, maybe I am, too.”
Despite the guilt he’d tried to heap upon her, she understood something in a flash. “I’m not the only one who is guilty here, am I? Velia told me the morning she died that she’d gotten a scathing letter from you. She never told me what was in that letter. When I said I didn’t feel well, she said she’d do my shift. Velia said she was so mad all she wanted to do was keep busy.” For a few seconds Annabelle wanted to hurt him and defend herself. “What did you say to her in that letter?”
He shook his head, and his expression turned dark, regret and pain filling his eyes. But he didn’t speak.
“Let me make something clear to you, Captain Hale.” She drew in a breath to ease the tightness in her throat. “I’m Nurse Dorrenti to you from now on. Today Superintendent Jasper Antrim stopped me in the rotunda and quizzed me about inappropriate relationships between staff and patients. If he thinks for one moment that you and I have an intimate relationship, it will go badly for both of us.”
She left him standing there, but she could feel him watching her as she hurried away. Every step should have severed the tie she felt to him, and the rush of needs and emotions generated from his nearness. It didn’t, and she broke into a run.
Chapter 5
“I was beginning to think you didn’t like me,” Cade said to Dr. Prever.
Tall, with thinning gray hair and spectacles, the doctor stared at Cade as if he’d lost his mind. Cade almost laughed. Lost my mind. Now that was a distinct possibility.
After Cade’s turbulent encounter with Annabelle in the small garden yesterday, when he’d wanted to kiss the life out of her and give her comfort, Cade had retreated to his room and wondered if he’d gone around the last bend. He’d struggled to understand what he felt about her. He’d thought he hated her and had no respect for her. Now he didn’t know. His body wanted her with a burn that wouldn’t quit, and he didn’t want to feel this way. It made little sense.
Prever had summoned Cade to his office this morning, and Cade wondered if he’d be tossed out of the asylum in the next few minutes. Maybe someone had seen him holding her in his arms yesterday and had decided he was a bad influence on little Miss Innocent. Like hell. He’d never met a woman less innocent. She’d seen and felt things few other women had. He knew it down where it hurt.
Prever scratched his long nose, and his small eyes blinked behind his glasses. “Please sit down.”
Cade settled in the stuffed leather chair and folded his hands over his stomach. He slouched in the chair. He rarely allowed himself much relaxation when it came down to military bearing. This time he didn’t care. The doctor sat behind his desk with a relaxed, unassuming manner. Folders and papers littered the desk.
“Why would you think I don’t like you, Mr. Hale?” Prever’s voice sounded low and confident and his smile was friendly.
Somehow Cade hadn’t expected affability from a doctor who’d berated him the first day he’d gotten here. He’d spoken to an Army doctor after his injury in France, after being told he would be returning to the United States, but that jackass had been judgmental. Cade had to admit he’d deser
ved the verbal lashing Prever had given him the first day.
“Been a week and you hadn’t welcomed me yet.” Cade kept his voice modulated. “I thought all the crazies were assessed early on.”
“Do you think you’re crazy?”
“Very.”
“Why?”
Cade shrugged. “The standard reasons.”
Prever looked him up and down before referring to papers on his desk. “Your file reports that you suffer the following symptoms: exhaustion, headaches, inability to relax, insomnia, hyper vigilance, and nightmares. Would you say that’s accurate?”
“Yes.”
“You admit that you were addicted to laudanum. Any tremors or shaking? Stomach craps from withdrawal?”
“When I came back to the States, I slept in a hotel for a week and got myself clean.”
Prever nodded. “Impressive. Few men can do that without help. Why were you addicted?”
Ah, here comes the hard part. “Because I saw men on the battlefield who’d died the day before. The doctors thought I’d lost it.”
Prever nodded again. “I see that in your file.”
“Then why did you ask me?”
“I wanted to see if you understood the reason yourself. They also say here that you had trouble sleeping. Do you still have trouble?”
“I have nightmares now that I’m not taking the drug.”
“Loss of initiative?”
“No. I’m one of the lucky ones.”
Prever smiled. “Your sarcasm isn’t lost on me. In many respects you are exceptionally lucky.”
“Dreaming every night about blood, guts, and mud is lucky?”
Prever sighed. “Yes. Some men are so far gone all they do is stare into space, in their own little world where nothing bad can happen to them again. They are vegetables of their own making.”
Cade grunted. “There are a few of those in here. I’m just not sure they’re the unlucky ones.”
“You seem to value your life. Unless you’re having thoughts of suicide?”
Cade’s gaze jerked up and he caught Prever’s gaze. “Hell, no.”
“Good. Now ... you were referred here by your commanding officer?”
“Not exactly. You’ll see from my paperwork that my commanding officer decided I was unfit for duty after I was wounded and started seeing ghosts.” Cade wasn’t proud of anything he’d experienced or done after he was wounded. Not by a long shot. “I made friends with this old nurse. She was very kind to me. Told me that the ghosts were real and that she saw them, too. Then she dropped dead one day. It drove me over the edge. I rampaged around the ward. And the only thing that calmed me down was seeing her ghost. And the fucking laudanum the doctor insisted I take.”
Prever’s eyebrows winged up again. “She died and then you saw her ghost. That’s when they started giving you the drug?”
“Yes.” Jesus, he wished Prever would quit asking what he had to already know.
“That was compounded by news about your sister, right?”
“Yes. I learned the same day that she’d been killed. It was too much shit for one day.”
Prever scribbled a note on paper. “Multiple traumas. The nurse died. You saw her ghost. And you heard about your sister after that?”
“The nurse comforted me, then she dropped dead right there and I saw her ghost a few moments later. Then I heard about my sister.” Cade gritted his teeth as he recalled the events, his breath tighter in his chest.
“Extremely distressing. All of that would make any man believe he saw ghosts.”
Cade could see Prever wasn’t going to believe in ghosts, but then part of Cade didn’t want to either. He wanted to deny the evidence of what he’d seen. “After I’d taken the drug awhile I decided maybe the ghosts weren’t real. By then I was addicted.”
“You’re very open about this.”
Cade shrugged. “When a man sinks this low what else is there?”
“A lot of men won’t admit to addiction.”
“I’m done with it.”
“Do you still see ghosts now you’re not on the drug?” Cade hesitated a moment too long, and he saw the doctor’s eyes fill with understanding. “You do still see them.”
“Sometimes I see them, but most of the time I feel them. There is something wrong with this place.”
Prever’s eyes narrowed, but he didn’t respond directly to the statement. “So what happened after that? After you recovered from your wound?”
“My father has a lot of influence in politics. He knows people who know people. They got me moved to a hospital farther from the front lines. Eventually I was sent back to the States. I didn’t know whether I was damned happy or humiliated. At least I figured the peace and quiet might help.”
“And you found out about Annabelle Dorrenti. The woman you blame for your sister’s death. That had more to do with coming here than finding peace and quiet.”
Good. At least Prever was getting down to the truth. “Right. Knowing that I could find her and tell her what I thought of her kept me going.”
Prever looked through a file on his desk. “Unfortunately it doesn’t say all that here. Thank you for filling in the blanks.” After another lengthy pause, during which Prever stared at Cade, the doctor finally said, “It says here you were shot in the side in January right after you saw the ghosts of men who’d just been killed in front of you on the battlefield.”
“Yes.”
“And while you saw these ghosts, you didn’t know you’d been shot.”
“No.”
“Have you always seen ghosts?”
Cade shook his head. “No. I’ve always felt things. Understood when a place has problems. When there is bad blood or danger. It kept me alive through this damned excuse for a war.”
Prever’s glasses had slid down his nose. He leaned back in his chair and returned his glasses to their proper place. “Do you want to tell me about what happened? What set you off? What was so bad that you didn’t even notice you’d been shot?”
“Happens to men in battle all the time. Once saw a man get his whole arm torn off. He got back up and kept going. Soldiers had to jump on him to keep him down so he wouldn’t bleed to death.”
Prever’s expression altered, a smidgen of disgust appearing. “Unfortunate man. It’s true the body can protect us from pain for quite a while. Your wound was through and through. Perhaps that saved your life.”
“Then you should understand why I didn’t realize I’d been wounded.”
“Didn’t you feel ill from blood loss?”
“No. I felt ill from rage. From the fact my commanding officer allowed men to go over the top before they were ready.”
“Which men?”
“The rest of the engineers who were with me. We were leading to cut the wire.”
“To make way for the troops that would come after you.”
Cade kept his breathing even, but thinking about this shit sometimes made his head pound and his body sweat. “That’s right.”
Cade’s temples throbbed, so he took a deep breath and directed his attention to the single window in the office. Snow blew across the glass. Full winter had finally come.
“You aren’t the man you used to be, Mr. Hale. What happened to you in war was a horrible thing. You saw carnage no man should have to see. You believed your commanding officer was wrong—”
“I didn’t believe it, I know it.” Cade’s temples throbbed harder. “He called those men when he didn’t have to.”
“Mr. Hale—”
“Captain Hale.”
“Let me make myself clear, despite being sent back to the United States, you are not discharged from the military. I’m only calling you Mr. Hale because I want all my patients to think of themselves as ordinary men. No pressure to conform based on rank. I am a civilian doctor, but I have seen what war can do to men. There have been other wars before this one you know.”
“The Great War is the only one I’ve been in.”
Cade’s trust in Prever increased, but he didn’t know if he believed in the man’s full integrity. But hell, he would give him a chance. “Now that you’ve assessed me, where do we proceed?”
“You tell me about the nightmares. I think that’s where we should start.”
Fear gutted and emasculated Cade. He wouldn’t allow it. “I don’t see how that could help.”
“It will help by revealing to me your true thoughts. What bothers you the most about your participation in the war.”
“Participation? Is that what you call it?”
“It is a euphemism. I use it for things that are unpleasant to face.”
Cade shifted in the chair, glad that it had padding. He figured he’d be sitting here a long time. “I suppose you’ll bring up Freud and Jung?”
The doctor’s thin eyebrows popped up. “I might at that. How do you know about Freud and Jung?”
“Read about them. I went to West Point. I’m not a dumb farm boy.”
The doctor laughed. “So I see. But you’ve got some prejudices of your own. Not all farm boys are dumb.”
“Some of the ones I met while in the war sure as hell were.”
“Were?”
“Some are alive and smarter than they were when they went to war. Some are dead.”
“I see.”
“There was this one boy from Nevada that was dumb as hell until he got into a trench. He knew how to fight, and he was brave.”
“Brave or stupid?”
“Both. Sometimes there isn’t a whole hell of a lot of difference.”
Prever shifted back even farther in his chair, apparently so at ease he looked as though he could fall asleep. “Tell me more about this farm boy.”
“He’s dead. Died about a month after he got to France. Nothing more to talk about.”
Shadows Rise Page 6