All Through the Night

by Tara Johnson

  Or would they? Father’s remark from last night rose up to taunt her once again. A cold fist squeezed her throat. Perhaps he was not concerned at all.

  Blinking back the sting of unshed tears, she lifted her chin. “Now, if you would be so kind as to explain why you felt it necessary to kidnap a child and then abscond with me, I’d be ever so grateful.” She heard the sarcastic bite in her tone but didn’t care. She had ceased understanding the doctor and made no more pretense of trying.

  He sighed and rubbed his hands across the back of his neck. “Please know I had no idea you’d be in Richmond, Miss Piper.”

  “Yes, it would have been more convenient for your nefarious dealings if I’d remained away, wouldn’t it?”

  “That’s not what I meant.” He frowned and turned to face her. “I just . . . I’m sorry for confusing you so. No doubt you think me the most despicable man alive.”

  She said nothing. Indeed, she’d mentally accused him of that very thing within the past day.

  His brows furrowed as he studied her face. “Do you believe slavery is a righteous institution, Miss Piper?”

  “Absolutely not.”

  “Neither do I.”

  “But I saw you buying a slave yesterday.”

  “Yes, you did.”

  She expelled a thick breath. “You speak in riddles, sir.”

  He chuckled low. “I know. It seems an odd thing to do for a man morally opposed to the institution, but it would only be odd if I were to keep the slave. I do not. I free them.”

  Understanding dawned. It was the very thing she and Father had discussed over the morning paper not long ago. “That man I saw you talking with yesterday . . . the same one driving the wagon today—”

  “Yes. He’s a freed man who helps me smuggle slave children into free states.”

  Her mind raced. “How many others do you work with?”

  His lips pressed into a firm line. “I cannot say. I should not have even told you this much, but I feared what you would do or think if your suspicions were left unchecked and ungrounded. I know how it appears.” He winced. “Please be assured I was only playing a role.”

  Relief so thick filled her chest, she could do nothing but stare. “I understand. I must say, you were quite impressive as the street performer. Where did you learn such tricks?”

  But instead of smiling, his mood darkened. “It doesn’t matter. It serves an end.”

  She swallowed. This man was a mystery. A storm. Beautiful and intense. Ever changing, sweeping in and out with ferocity, but touching everything in his wake.

  He walked several more steps, his hands shoved in his pockets, head bent. “Tell me, Miss Piper, when I speak the phrase ‘A dog is barking,’ what do you envision?”

  She pondered the thought for a moment. “I think of Domino, my dog from childhood. He was a little ball of black-and-white fluff, always barking at strange sights beyond the window. A falling leaf, running squirrels.”

  He stopped and turned to her, his expression somber. “Do you know what I think of? Mean, starving dogs covered with cuts and nosing through garbage in back alleys. I envision snarling teeth and slobbering tongues snapping at children as they sob, desperate to protect the small morsel of food they have tucked to their chest.” His lips firmed. “You and I have lived very different lives, Miss Piper. There is a whole world beyond those streets you know nothing about.”

  A yearning gripped her. “Let me help you.”

  His dark eyes widened. “No. Absolutely not.”

  “Why not?”

  “It’s too dangerous.”

  She propped her hands on her hips. “You take the risk. Why should I not? I’m unattached, with no husband or children dependent on me. I can be of service.”

  He snorted and turned away. “Do you always need to prove your worth, Miss Piper?”

  She jerked back as if slapped. Was that what he thought she was doing?

  “How dare you!” she whispered. “Lest you forget, it was you who begged me to work in your hospital. It was I who found you after remembering what alley you and your friend met in yesterday. You’re the one who botched things today. Not me.”

  His jaw twitched as he stepped close, his nose mere inches from hers. “Proctor cheated!”

  She softened her voice, knowing vinegar with this man would accomplish nothing. “Please. I only want to be of help. Let me.”

  He hesitated and opened his mouth before closing it once more.

  “What is it?”

  He grimaced. “I must ask you, why did you say you’re in Richmond again?”

  She frowned at the odd change in topic. “To retrieve my brother. He was injured. Father and I plan to bring him home with us to Washington.”

  Dr. Ivy nodded slowly but kept his gaze averted, his face serious. “And what is his name?”

  “Tate Piper.”

  “And what is his profession?”

  “He’s a—” She stopped, choking on the answer. His eyes lifted to hers, sorrow flooding their depths. Dr. Ivy knew.

  “He’s a slave trader. That is, a former slave trader.” Her voice shook, dropping to a hoarse whisper. “You knew?”

  “Suspected. I knew of a Tate Piper by reputation only.”

  She grabbed his arm. “But he’s different now. He wants to change. Father and I didn’t even know about what he was doing until two days ago. Surely—”

  Dr. Ivy shook his head. “You would not be trusted, Miss Piper. Not with such a person in your family. I’m sorry, truly.”

  Heat licked her middle. “So I’m to be condemned for the actions of another?”

  “Not by me.”

  She looked into his eyes and knew he spoke the truth. It made no difference to him, but those helping him would view her through jaded eyes.

  “I’m sorry.”

  She gave a terse nod. “Perhaps there’s a way I can contribute financially. Surely such an endeavor is costly. Buying slaves from the auction block takes funds. If I were to—”

  “You would be caught.” His shoulders sagged. “The expenses are routed through a long chain of donations, none of which know about the rest. Having a benefactor working side by side with me is too risky.” Sighing, he looked over the gentle slope of the cemetery. “You must return to your father soon. Say nothing of this to anyone. When we both return to Washington, act as if this conversation never happened. This day, these memories . . . erase all of them from your mind.”

  Was such a thing possible?

  “And, Miss Piper—” he winced—“forgive me for my earlier, uh . . . passion.” Crimson crept up his collar. “I had few options.”

  She bit her lip. “I understand. I shall do my best to forget if you can.”

  He leveled his gaze to hers. Something in her stomach flipped.

  “I doubt such a thing is possible, Miss Piper.”

  It was suddenly hard to breathe.

  She turned to go, but his gentle call turned her back.

  “Miss Piper?”

  “Yes?”

  He offered a lopsided smile. “Considering all we’ve been through, might I ask you one question?”

  “Of course.”

  “What’s your Christian name?”

  A tiny ray of sunlight pierced the muddled emotions shrouding her heart. She fought to control her wayward tongue and answered slowly. “Cadence.”

  “Cadence.” He repeated the name with a smile hovering around his mouth. “It suits you. And a beautiful name for a songbird at that.”

  She smiled slowly. “But now you must tell me yours, Dr. Ivy.”

  “Joshua.”

  Strong name. The name of a warrior.

  “Joshua Ivy. That has a nice ring to it.”

  “Let me walk you back to your boardinghouse.” He grinned, his white teeth flashing. “In Washington, I’ll be Dr. Ivy. I can’t handle impertinent nurses . . . Cadence.”

  She tossed a saucy glance over her shoulder. “You’d better be on your best behavior
then, Joshua.”

  WASHINGTON, DC

  Cadence studied the soldier’s exposed neck and pursed her lips.

  The young lad chuckled. “Do I look as bad as all that?”

  Forcing herself to lighten her expression, she shook her head. “Of course not, but this rash is troublesome. Tell me again why your captain insisted on delivering you to Judiciary Square?”

  He coughed weakly, his eyelids drooping in his too-thin face. “Ain’t got no stamina, seems like. Can’t hardly walk a straight line no more. Between the vermin, the vittles, and those blasted Johnny Rebs, is it any wonder?” He reddened and rubbed a hand over his shock of white-blond hair. “Pardon my language, ma’am.”

  She chuckled. “Pardon granted.”

  “Came down with the malaria, but our field doc gave me some quinine and it seemed to do the trick.” He squinted up at her. “Think I’ve had a relapse? I’ve been getting the shakes again.”

  Pressing a cool cloth to his forehead, she murmured, “Perhaps, but that rash is not a sign of malaria.”

  “I’ll be the judge of that.”

  Cadence tensed at the masculine voice behind her. The military had wanted to ensure Joshua had enough surgeons on hand for the expected influx of patients and had sent half a dozen new physicians to the hospital. Several had been contract surgeons, meant only to handle the less severe cases. The rest were skilled surgeons, but none of them had an ego as big as Dr. Perritt’s.

  Whether it was the man’s small, spindly stature or the prickliness from his oversize, bushy mustache, Cadence didn’t know, but he was forever belittling the nurses, continually reminding them a woman’s place was in the home. He took special delight in tormenting Cadence. He was not liked by the stewards, and the nurses loathed his overbearing presence.

  Cadence turned to see Dr. Perritt scowling. “Doctor, may I help you?”

  “You may tell me why you presume to give a medical diagnosis when you have no medical training.”

  She clenched her teeth until she feared they’d break. “But I have, sir. Dr. Ivy trained me himself.”

  He snorted and laughed as if she were a simpleton. “The training of a nurse to change linens and empty bedpans is hardly the same training one receives to become an astute physician. Stand aside.”

  She moved to make room as one of the stewards came up behind her. He leaned in, crossing his arms. “What’s got his knickers in a knot today?”

  She suppressed a smile. “He caught me using my brain.”

  Steward Swindle’s eyes rounded in mock horror. “Traitorous!”

  Dr. Perritt swiveled and glared at both of them. Steward Swindle’s face turned purely angelic. Cadence had to bite the inside of her lip to keep from laughing.

  He straightened. “This soldier has nothing more than a case of the scabies. Clean him up and send him back to his regiment.”

  “But, sir—”

  The doctor glared. “Nurse Piper, might I remind you who diagnoses patients in this hospital? It is not the nurses, however earnestly they might strive.”

  Steward Swindle scratched his head. “With all due respect, that there ain’t no scabies, sir.”

  “And who are you to contradict me?”

  He bowed low and smiled, revealing crooked teeth. “Just a lowly steward and recovering soldier. Honest Swindle’s the name.” He rocked back on his heels and hooked his thumbs under his suspenders. “With a name like Swindle, people wonder if I’m a thief. Well, I won’t pick your pocket, but I might pick your brain.”

  “How droll.” Dr. Perritt spoke through gritted teeth.

  “When I was in the army, I saw a lot of illness in camp,” Swindle continued. “That isn’t scabies. And scabies don’t cause muscle weakness and fatigue like Private Richey here has. I’ve had the Virginia quickstep from eating those desecrated vegetables and embalmed beef, and watched several in my regiment fight off the malaria too.” He shook his head. “This ain’t like a vermin or skin disease. Not the diarrhea nor malaria either.”

  Dr. Perritt’s eyes narrowed to slits. “You’re merely a steward. You know nothing. What does Nurse Piper think ails him?”

  She gathered herself and spoke slowly. “Based on the type of rash, its placement and his symptoms, I would think he might be suffering from—” she winced—“the red measles.”

  Steward Swindle snapped his fingers. “That’s it! That’s what our field surgeon called it.”

  “Preposterous!” Dr. Perritt huffed. “Another reason why females have no business in hospitals unless they are dying.”

  Footsteps approached. Cadence turned to see Dr. Ivy standing behind them. She groaned inwardly.

  Since those baffling days in Richmond two weeks ago, Dr. Ivy had said little more than a short string of words to her. They’d each returned to the hospital in Washington, but when he’d walked in and her face lit up, he’d not even glanced her way. In the days since, he’d done little more than grunt and attend to patients. When he’d operated, he’d called for the other nurses’ assistance, not hers.

  She’d been thoroughly and completely ignored.

  It was as if Richmond had never happened at all.

  “What seems to be the trouble?”

  She lifted her chin but said nothing as Dr. Perritt scoffingly told Dr. Ivy how his nurse had dared to suggest a diagnosis for the ill soldier. “A diagnosis completely erroneous, in my opinion.”

  Steward Swindle’s eyes twinkled. “Here’s a lark for you. Let’s hear Dr. Ivy’s opinion on the matter.”

  Her gaze flickered to his. The ghost of a smile played around his lips as if he were enjoying the predicament. “Sounds like a fair way of handling the matter.”

  He took a moment to examine Private Richey and ask him the same questions Cadence had. He nodded and padded the lanky lad’s shoulder.

  Dr. Perritt arched a single brow. “Well, what say you? Scabies, isn’t it?”

  Dr. Ivy’s face lit in surprise. “Not at all. From my observation of the rash, as well as his other physical maladies and symptoms, I’m positive Private Richey is suffering from red measles.”

  Cadence released a breath she wasn’t aware she’d been holding. Honest Swindle whooped as Dr. Perritt’s face flamed and the older man stomped away.

  “Just like Nurse Piper said! Don’t that beat all?”

  Dr. Ivy turned to her, his chestnut eyes dancing. “Was that your diagnosis as well?”

  She nodded, suddenly shy at the attention.

  He winked. “I best be on my guard or the hospital will be replacing me with my best nurse.” He chuckled. “Well done. If left untreated, those measles could have turned into pneumonia.”

  Steward Swindle puffed out his chest. “That’s why our Songbird is the pride and joy of Judiciary Square Hospital. Of the whole Union!”

  Her face flamed when Dr. Ivy leaned in and whispered, “Amen.”

  If only her father felt the same . . .

  Turning to Steward Swindle, he placed an order for medicine to be brought immediately. “Make sure Private Richey takes it all.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  His focus centered on Cadence. “Follow me.”

  Was she in trouble? She followed his quick stride down the corridor, cringing at the sound of their shoes clicking against the polished floors. With the vacant empty halls, every noise echoed. Hollow and empty.

  He led her to his office and picked up the morning paper, handing it to her with a roguish grin. “Did you hear?”

  “No. What?”

  She hadn’t seen a newspaper since their return to Washington, as she had been avoiding breakfast with Father and Tate completely. Father now acted as if she didn’t exist, doting on Tate’s every whim. The few times she’d attempted to check on her brother’s progress or clean his wounds, Father had shooed her away. At least she could be of use here.

  She grabbed the oily paper and scanned the headlines. There in bold letters, the type announced: “Slavery Abolished in the District of C
olumbia.”

  She gasped and lifted her eyes to his. Joy danced in their depths. “Can it be?”

  “I know it’s only one small step, but to know Washington, DC, is free of slavery’s disease is immensely gratifying.”

  “I should say so.” She returned the paper to his hands. “Now to only see it rid everywhere.”

  Sadness drifted across his face. “I pray to God it would be so.” He blinked and the shadows snapped away like a window shade that had been raised. “This is not wholly why I asked you to come. It seems Congressman Ramsey and his wife have planned a huge benefit to raise funds for our soldiers. There’s to be a dance and auction. They’d like to showcase the work that goes on here at Judiciary Square Hospital as well. Perhaps raise some funds for our needs. They’ve asked me to speak and have requested you speak also. Sing some patriotic songs.” His face shone when he gave her a tender smile. “The Ramseys do nothing but shout your praises.”

  Her heart slammed against her ribs. Singing was well and good, but speaking? She couldn’t. She could still feel the phrenologist’s fingers roving over her scalp. Could still hear the taunts of her schoolmates as she stood in the classroom, stammering over the recitations that refused to be coaxed from her lips. She’d barely held back the burning tears amid her shame as she stared at her buttoned top boots, stammering over the words stalled in her throat. Lizzie Johnston’s taunts yet burned her ears and branded her soul.

  “C-c-cat g-got your tongue, C-C-Cadence P-P-Piper?”

  She watched Dr. Ivy’s mouth move.

  “The benefit is set for next Friday evening. I’d be honored if you’d let me escort you for the evening.” His brows rose. “What say you, Miss Piper?”

  She licked her lips. The thought of standing before hundreds of people, listening to murmurs, their snickers and taunts and ridicules, caused a swell of panic to burst in her chest.

  “Forgive me, but I cannot.”

  She turned and fled.

  Joshua gripped the doorframe and silently cursed himself. Why did he think she would want to attend the benefit on his arm? He who had forced himself upon her, tasting what he had no right to taste. Even now, the memory of her honeyed lips burned his.