Shadows Rise

by Denise A. Agnew

  Annabelle looked to Cade and noted his steel-eyed attention fixated on her.

  “Well, it’s done then. We’re stuck here together,” Annabelle said.

  He nodded, his voice quiet and calm. “So it would seem, Nurse Dorrenti, so it would seem.”

  Chapter 8

  Annabelle prowled the wards. Three days had passed since the self-imposed quarantine of Tranquil View Asylum. The nursing staff had heard this morning that enough supplies for at least two months resided in the storehouses. They had two months before they would find themselves needing to venture into the unknown. Several nurses prayed for salvation. Annabelle didn’t believe this was God’s wrath. No, this was nature in all its fury. So many had suffered and would suffer still. When would it end?

  Tonight the wards stayed quiet, and she felt grateful. She wanted peace. She’d volunteered for the late shift for the next few weeks. As far as she was concerned, the nights were quiet. She didn’t hear the men crying out or yelling as often as long as they slumbered well.

  Tonight she also thought too much on MacRay. Poor MacRay. Though he hadn’t had the enza, he’d died in his bed one day after his explosive reaction. His death couldn’t be explained. The doctor who’d completed the autopsy consulted with Dr. Prever and the other two doctors at Tranquil View. None of them could give explanation for the man’s death. Annabelle was more disconcerted about this development than knowing influenza lurked outside the asylum like a killer waiting to strike.

  Several of the soldiers, including Cade, had attended a quick funeral for the man. Cade had borrowed a Bible and read over MacRay’s grave. The small chapel had no religious man to give comfort. Cade had returned from the funeral subdued. Annabelle had watched him walk by. He hadn’t appeared interested in talking with anyone.

  Not only had Annabelle offered to work this night shift, but she’d been assigned to cover two of the nurses that had come down ill. They didn't have the influenza, thank God, but trifling colds. Annabelle had spent most of her free time in her room reading and avoiding any possibility of running into Cade. When she did see him, she made certain to keep their interactions quick and professional.

  Yesterday, though, had sealed the strange gloom that hung over the asylum. Clouds had gathered, thick and dark. Penelope had commented the clouds appeared more like thunderstorm than snow clouds. All day the clouds had loomed. Finally, in the late afternoon, it had started to snow and had stopped only once or twice. It seemed the weather planned to wrap them in snowy white death.

  She entered the area near Cade’s room, and a creeping sense of being watched made her look around. She stopped and scanned the hallway. Around her the night encroached like a live thing. Yellowish light from the wall lamps dimmed slowly. She started walking again as the shadows around her wavered and expanded. Fear rose swiftly. Something pushed her forward, as if she could just reach his room she would be safe. She glanced back and the shadows kept coming, dimming the hallway until it almost looked black. Skepticism tried and failed to obliterate cold, primal fear. Darkness walked toward her. Menacing. Coming. Encroaching. She kept on walking. Cade would be asleep and she had no good cause to knock. Right then she heard him cry out, and worry propelled her toward his door. She hoped he hadn’t shoved a chair under his door as she did every night.

  The door opened easily and she snapped on the overhead light. Before she could say a word, he jumped out of the bed and stalked toward her. His hair was mussed, eyes blinking to adjust to the light. “Annabelle? What’s wrong?”

  She glanced behind her. The shadows stayed, hovering and promising to devour. For a second, she was trapped between that darkness and Cade. Cade’s presence won.

  “What is it?” he asked, stepping up to her as she stayed just in the doorway and stared into the hallway.

  “It’s ... nothing.”

  “Nothing?” He looked down on her, eyebrows drawn down and eyes seriously concerned.

  “It was just the shadows. I was trying to get to a light.”

  He leaned outside the doorway and just then the wall lights went to full brilliance once more. “The shadows. I see what you mean.”

  He turned his back to the hallway, as if he didn’t fear whatever lurked. His appearance threw her mind and heart into a tizzy. Bare-chested, he wore pajama bottoms only. Nothing had prepared her for seeing Cade half-naked. She’d seen many men naked since she’d become a nurse. By now she should be immune to the male form. It didn’t blunt his impact.

  Unlike the soldiers who had returned from war practically emaciated, Cade’s body rippled with muscle—broad shoulders, hard pectorals, a flat, muscular stomach. Dark hair sprinkled over his chest and narrowed in a line over his belly. The tantalizing line disappeared under his waistband. Her mouth went dry. His expression wiped all thought of manly attributes from her mind. He was pale, almost ill-looking. Harsh fear rose up from a primal place in her heart.

  “What are you doing here, Annabelle?”

  “I heard you cry out,” she said.

  He leaned one hand against the door and jammed the other through his hair. “Damn. I was dreaming. Laudanum didn’t work tonight.”

  “You’re very pale.”

  He straightened and a cocky smile tilted his mouth. “Worried about me?”

  Her face went hot. “I worry about all the patients.”

  “Stay for a while.”

  “You know I shouldn’t do that.”

  “What do you want to do?” His voice was deep and thick with last remnants of sleep. “You’re always telling me what you should do. What do you want to do?”

  What do I want to do?

  Night still enveloped most of the room, giving intimacy to the space. He closed the door, and her breathing quickened. Here in the dim, intimate light, she couldn’t constrain the excitement that danced inside her. How had she arrived at this foolish moment? Why did she continue to ride the edge with a man who didn’t even like her that much?

  “What were you dreaming about?” she asked.

  He sat on his bed. “Same thing I always dream about.”

  She stayed away from the bed, her hands folded in front of her. Curiosity made her push. “Was it bad?”

  “First tell me why you looked so scared a moment ago. Were you running from the shadows in the hallway? What did you feel?”

  She tried for nonchalance. “That again? Supernatural muck?”

  “Yes, supernatural muck. You felt it, didn’t you?”

  “I don’t know. It’s snowing and the electricity is unreliable. That’s probably what happened.”

  “Perhaps. I doubt it.”

  “You’re trying to change the subject. Now, what did you dream?”

  “Why do you want to know?” His question was serious; there was definitely no mirth involved.

  “We have something in common. We were both in a war. Unless you don’t believe my experiences were war.”

  He grunted. “Yes, I believe you were in a war.”

  “Then tell me.”

  He stared at her, then shifted back so that he lay on the bed. Even lying down Cade didn’t lose the predatory effect. He rippled with male power. She took a huge chance and walked to the bed. As she sat on the edge, heat filled her body. Danger beckoned, but this time the dark had nothing to do with it. “What if I was to tell you I need to talk about it?”

  “Do you?”

  “Yes.”

  He nodded. “I was dreaming about rumors.”

  “Rumors? I don’t understand.”

  “Ziggy made a call to his parents in Baltimore. They are desperate. They don’t want to leave their house. They think the influenza was planted by the Germans to kill us all. Their pastor also told them the disease is God’s wrath. Sin is the cause. I was dreaming about that, if you can believe it.”

  “You don’t believe any of that, of course.”

  He shook his head. “Sin and blaming the enemy is convenient. It explains what can’t be explained. People like answers.
That wasn’t the only thing I dreamed.” Cade sat up higher on the bed, naked back against the hard wall. “I dreamt of being on a transport train for two days and three nights. All we had was hard tacks and canned meat. We had water, but barely enough. We never washed or shaved or slept. I wished it was a more pleasant dream like the one I had last night.”

  “Oh?”

  “I dreamt that I was home with Velia when she was younger. We were playing in the yard at home. Good times.”

  Oh. Regret and guilt returned. Her feelings stung. “I’m ... that must have been wonderful. She was wonderful.”

  “Stubborn. Foolish as hell.”

  Annabelle smiled. “She was that.”

  Quiet surrounded them before he spoke again. “She took chances she shouldn’t have.”

  “Sometimes. Never with patients. They loved her. She was so good with the men. They adored her, and not just because she was beautiful.”

  He swallowed hard, his eyes pinpointed on the wall, as if thinking about yesteryears. “My father said that one day she’d come to no good end.”

  Her mouth popped open. “He said that?”

  “Father isn’t a warm and pleasant man. Velia didn’t get along well with him. He thinks women should stay away from war. I explained that unless they planned to train men for nursing, then some women would have to go to war.”

  “Very true.”

  His gaze met hers, quiet and surprisingly empty of reproach. “Velia was brave and kind.”

  “Yes. Did your father mourn her?”

  Cade’s eyes darkened with a new anger. “Oh, yeah. And blamed you for her passing.”

  She licked her lips. “Just as you do.”

  “Far worse than I. After I got off the laudanum and went home, my father wanted to find you. Get you brought up on charges of some sort.”

  Emotions rattled around inside her, building. Apprehension and disbelief were the top two feelings. “What charges?”

  He shook his head and shrugged. “I explained that no charges would stick. But at first I tried to help him think of what you could be blamed for.” She rubbed her hands over her face, a weariness bearing down upon her. God, would her guilt ever leave? Would he stop reminding her one day? “I couldn’t think of a way to get even with you,” he said. “Until I realized I needed help and while I was getting help I could face you and point out how much you hurt my family. You see, father wasn’t nearly as interested in me finding relief from the laudanum addiction or shell shock. He wanted me to come here to berate you.”

  She made a soft moan. “When you see your father, tell him it worked.”

  His eyes narrowed, but instead of satisfaction or malice, she saw only curiosity and warmth. “Maybe he’ll be satisfied.”

  “Are you?”

  Then he smiled and didn’t answer, his grin filled with sensual promise. “I dreamt of you last night, too.”

  Surprised she said, “Were you pushing me off a cliff?”

  He grunted. “Hell, no. All the same, you don’t want to know what we were doing in my dream”

  Heat rushed to her face, and she almost left the room right then. A low throb started in her belly, an answering reaction racing to the secret place between her legs. His gaze did a foray over her, one that made no apologies for its hot attention. Why did being with him tie her in confusing knots and make her feel such staggering desire? She made a noise of disbelief. “What else do you dream about?”

  “You are as bad as Dr. Prever. He wants to know it all.”

  “He wants to help.”

  “Maybe.”

  “Such a trusting nature.”

  “I trust few people.”

  She couldn’t help but smile at that one. “You seem to trust me.”

  “I do.”

  “Why?”

  “Damned if I know. These days I try to take things at face value.” He leaned forward a little. “Do you trust me?”

  “Does it matter?”

  “Yes.”

  “I shouldn’t. But I do.”

  “There you go again with the shoulds.”

  She closed her eyes a moment, trying not to notice the way his biceps bulged, or the ridges of taut muscle bisected his stomach.

  When she opened her eyes again, her breath caught in her throat. He was looking at her in that way ... the way a man does when he wants something intimate. Heat gathered between them, and the memory of stolen kisses made her pulse quicken. She drew her memory back from physical pleasures. “This is a time to sacrifice, not to indulge.”

  “You honestly believe that? Why?”

  “What do I have left but my dignity? I trained as a nurse because I always wished to help people. Then, only a few months after my training completed, the war came to the United States. I wanted to do my patriotic duty. I’m still doing my duty.”

  He tilted his head to the side and shifted lower on the bed. “What is your duty?”

  “To help soldiers. I went from trying to fix their broken bodies to repairing their broken minds.”

  “Have you fixed anyone’s broken mind?”

  Weariness and despair overwhelmed her in a pitiful moment. Damn him for asking. “No. I don’t think so.” She didn’t want to talk of her failings anymore. “Now, if I’m to help you, you have to tell me more of your dreams.”

  He looked as if he just might tell her to jump into the nearest lake.

  Chapter 9

  “All right.” Cade leaned back against the wall again.

  His response totally surprised Annabelle, and yet she felt excited, too. She didn’t know how to help him other than to listen, and here was the opportunity.

  “I dream about the transportation ship that took us to France. The deck time was limited because the ship was overcrowded. There were drills and standing for hours to get fed. I’m not good with closed-in places after that experience.”

  She winced. “I can understand that.”

  “Everywhere, men were sick ... I was stepping in vomit everywhere I went.”

  “How awful.”

  He smiled. “I’m surprised you didn’t tell me not be vulgar.”

  “There isn’t anything you could tell me that would shock me.”

  “Are you certain? I’ll have to think harder, then.”

  Weary of sickness and disgust that came with the war, she switched subjects. “Did you consort with the women in France?”

  He didn’t look surprised that she asked. “No, but others did whenever possible. Whenever possible.”

  “Humph.”

  “You don’t believe me.”

  “What makes you better than most of the soldiers I met in France?”

  “Are you painting us all with the same brush, Nurse Dorrenti?”

  “Yes.” She glanced away.

  He eyeballed her for a long moment before answering. “I had the brains to know about venereal disease. I sure as hell didn’t want to forfeit pay either.”

  She’d heard of soldiers losing pay over contracting venereal diseases. “Did you have any trouble with cooties, as you soldiers call it?”

  “Who didn’t? Lice were a big problem. Still are, I’m sure. There were fleas, typhus, trench fever. You name it we got it.”

  She smiled at his straightforward answers. “I would rather experience all the other diseases I saw in France ... everything but the one we face now.” He nodded. Once more the silence came, and she noted a comfort forming between them. Attraction held her in place, unwilling to leave his side, no matter the consequences. “Your job in France ... what all did you do as an engineer?” she asked.

  “What didn’t I do?” He scratched his chin. “Trained on artillery, machine guns, rifles, pistols, trench-mortars, 37 millimeter gun practice, bayonet and gas drills, and digging trenches. I built shelters and wire entanglements. I helped build roads and bridges. We had grenade throwing and marches. And when we weren’t doing that, we had maneuvers and terrain problems to deal with.”

  “And with all th
at work during the day you still dreamed?”

  “I was too damned tired part of the time. But when I came back to the United States ... When I returned to the United States, I couldn’t stop dreaming.”

  She leaned forward, eager to hear his explanation. “About what?”

  “Mud. I was drowning in it. Just like tonight.”

  Silence surrounded them for a short time, until intimacy made her long for more conversation. A driving force within her made her want to help him, to give him the solace she couldn’t give anyone else. “There’s another technique I’ve learned. Tell me about your worst experience in the war.”

  He frowned, then shifted down on the bed until he was supine. He slipped his hands behind his head. Muscles bunched and flexed, and her mouth went dry.

  “I told Dr. Prever.”

  “I see.”

  His eyes were hooded, holding a special sensual promise she could feel. “What was your worst war experience?”

  She swallowed with difficulty and twisted her apron in one hand. “The field hospital had around two hundred beds. There weren’t enough corpsman to bring all the wounded to the rear, but even then, at least three thousand came in. We couldn’t save them all. I ... all the nurses went from bed to bed and then some outside. I can’t tell you every story, every hand I held.” Tears surged into her eyes and this time she didn’t hold them back. She looked away and wiped at them with her apron. “I was mother, father, and sweetheart for so many.”

  “Jesus.”

  His soft curse didn’t offend. Instead, the magnitude of his sympathy reached for her. She saw tears in his eyes, and that astounded her more than anything yet. His understanding unsettled her, brought her closer to him in a way she wanted to refuse and deny, yet couldn’t. He had to know, as painful as her story was, it couldn’t hold a candle to his sister’s death.

  He sat up and touched her hand for a brief moment. “I’m sorry.”

  She drew in a deep breath. “If I never hear another true cry of excruciating agony ever again, I will be entirely happy. True lunacy is more bearable to witness than anything I saw in the war. Now, tell me your worst war experience.”