By now, the uniforms were all but gone. The wounded were clothed in rags or mismatched donations the Christian Commission had delivered to the battlefield. Those the cannons and mortar shells had claimed had long since passed on. The ones who would succumb to wound fever and infection had already lost their limbs.
The lot before him was filthy, malnourished and suffering from every malady running rampant through the field hospitals. Lice cared not if you were loyal. Dysentery felled the most ardent secessionist. Evan looked on as stewards removed what remained of soiled, infested garments. Nurses boiled items that the men begged to keep.
He moved from pallet to pallet, stethoscope around his neck, sorting out the ones with lung ailments, trying to reassure them.
“Take care. You’ve made it thus far,” he told one particular dark-haired boy.
“Y’all be sending us to prison now?”
The inquiry and accent testified to a home somewhere south of the Potomac. The thought crossed Evan’s mind, How many men in blue have you cut low by your musket? But when he looked into the boy’s eyes, he saw the fear—fear of reprisal, fear of death.
“Right now all you need to concentrate on is regaining your health,” Evan told him. “Food will be along directly.”
The boy offered a weak smile. “Thank ya, doc. I’m powerful hungry.”
At one time Evan would have been tempted to distribute nourishment elsewhere, to stand for the Union by making certain the rebs suffered for their crimes. Now he realized the honor of his country, the testimony of his faith, depended on the attitude he displayed.
These men are in my hands. Will not my example represent my government? Whether this war ends tomorrow or two years from now, reunification will occur. Will the process not be easier, the goal achieved more quickly, if kindness is shown?
Emily had understood that from the beginning. It had taken him this long, but now he did, as well.
The arrival of fresh greens and fruits brightened the eyes of many around him. For the wounded that were too weak for such, Evan ordered beef tea. He hoped they might be able to keep down the broth.
When the last of them had been cleaned and properly fed, Union soldiers who were strong enough for the journey were put aboard steamers for Philadelphia. Very few of the rebel prisoners were well enough for Fort McHenry. Evan conferred with his fellow physicians and the officers in charge.
“We will need to make space for them,” he said. “They are too ill to be sent on and the nights are too cold now to leave them outside.”
Colonel Cole agreed. He ordered the reorganization of the wards, to place men in the corridors and double up on beds if necessary. Evan suggested those with pneumonia and other respiratory ailments be grouped together in one ward, those with dysentery in another.
“Excellent idea,” Jacob said. “The cases will be easier to manage if they are grouped together.”
The others, including the colonel, liked the sound of that, as well.
The hospital staff members set about the task. After two days the prisoners had all been accounted for. Evan took charge of the pneumonia ward. Every time he inserted a chest tube, he thought of Emily.
He would never forget the look on her face the night she’d assisted him with the rebel sergeant. She had looked as though she would faint the moment he took up the knife.
But she bore her own discomfort for the sake of aiding another. ’Tis not a finer nurse, a finer woman, to be found.
He looked forward to Friday’s supper with immense anticipation.
Chapter Fifteen
Emily paced back and forth across the parlor floor in a gown she hoped was not too ornate or too dowdy. She tried to quell the nervousness she felt about Evan’s impending arrival, but her corset was constrictive. Abigail had drawn her laces so tightly that she could barely breathe.
“Stop fidgeting,” her mother insisted as she stepped into the room. She then smiled. “You look beautiful, my dear. He will think so, as well.”
Although Emily did wish that would be the case, she reminded herself and her mother, “Dr. Mackay isn’t looking for a wife.”
“And you aren’t looking for a husband, I know.” She fastened a string of pearls around her daughter’s neck. “I am simply pleased you are going on an outing. A pleasant evening of conversation will do you well.”
When a strong knock sounded on the front door, Emily nearly jumped out of her skin. Her mother thrust an embroidered handkerchief into her hand. “Here. Take an extra.”
“Thank you.”
She drew in as deep a breath as her underpinnings would allow, while her mother offered last-minute advice.
“Keep in mind you aren’t going off to the hospital. Remember the social graces.”
“Yes, Mother.”
Pleased, Mrs. Davis stepped back and, with a nod, encouraged her daughter from the room.
Breathe, Emily reminded herself. Breathe.
She could hear his voice coming from her father’s library. It held the same timbre, but the tone was far different from that of the hospital. Emily approached the door. Evan was seated in a chair across from her father, his long legs stretched out before him. The moment she crossed the threshold, he stood.
“Miss Davis,” he said with a smile. “You look lovely.”
Her heart fluttered and Emily wondered just when the change in her had occurred. When had she found that towering, unyielding man in the blue uniform so winsome?
“Thank you, Dr. Mackay.”
Between her shoulder blades she felt a gentle nudge. Her mother pushed her forward.
“Dr. Mackay was just telling me that Camp Letterman will be closing soon,” her father said.
“Oh?” She looked back at Evan. “Are all of the Gettysburg field hospitals closing?”
“Aye. Soon. The last of our scheduled wounded arrived this week.”
It was a comfort to know that the horrific battle was finally drawing to a close. Emily couldn’t help but wonder, though, in what condition had the soldiers come to Baltimore?
“Were there many serious cases?”
He shook his head. There was a gentleness to his expression. “Mostly hunger and sanitary ills.”
Mrs. Davis politely coughed. Obviously this was not the type of conversation she wanted Emily to be engaging in. Evan must have picked up on it, as well.
“I have something that belongs to you,” he said.
He took a step forward. Emily felt the flutter again in her chest as a whiff of something pleasant caught her attention. Soap, and was that shaving balm? From the left pocket of his frock coat he withdrew her volume of Robert Burns.
“I wondered where I had left that,” she said.
“You must have dropped it the night you—” He stopped. The smile turned to a more awkward expression.
The night I left the hospital. She took it from him, clasped it close. “Thank you. That was kind of you to return it.”
They both stared at each other for a moment as if neither knew what to say next. Her father cleared his throat.
“Well, you don’t want to keep Sam and Julia waiting,” he said.
“No, sir.” Evan replied.
She laid the book on the nearby table and they walked to the front door. Just before she stepped outside, her mother draped a cloak about her shoulders. Emily snuggled it close. The air was fresh but chilly. The evening edition of The Baltimore Sun was lying on the doorstep, and twilight bathed her neighborhood in a soft, rosy hue.
“Have a wonderful time,” her father called.
I will, she thought. If only I can remember to breathe. Up ahead, Joshua grinned at her. He was holding the reins to a horse that looked as though it had marched many miles with the army. The waiting carriage appeared to be at least a decade old, as well.
“I apologize,” Evan said, frowning slightly. “This contraption is not of the newest design.”
She felt his embarrassment, but the rickety rig didn’t bother her in the least.
“It will still take us where we wish to go.”
The corner of his mouth lifted with just the hint of a smile and he moved to assist her. The moment his hand touched hers, Emily felt a shiver. She let go too quickly and nearly slipped from the step.
“Steady there,” he said, catching her squarely by the waist.
“Thank you.”
Chagrined, she claimed her seat, smoothing out her hoop and skirts. Evan thanked Joshua for his assistance and climbed in beside her. He clicked his tongue. The wheels began to roll.
The painted sky was darkening and the lamplighter was making his rounds. Emily held her place, straight and quiet as they traveled up the street.
“May I ask you something?” he said.
“Certainly.”
“Are you afraid of me?”
She looked at him in disbelief. “Afraid?”
Evan kept his eyes on the way ahead. “That day in the pew, I have never seen you look so fretful.”
“What do you mean?”
“You twisted your hands through the entire prayer meeting.”
He had noticed that? Her cheeks burned.
He looked over. “You are doing it now.”
Emily forced her hands to her sides. It wasn’t fear that brought about her fidgetiness. It was sitting so closely beside him. It was the way that kepi sat low upon his forehead, the way the curls at his ears escaped and rolled in rebellion. But what was she going to say? She couldn’t tell him any of that.
“You might as well have out with it, lass. I know something troubles you.”
The physician was probing. Knowing him as she did, she was certain he would continue until she answered him. Emily swallowed. To be honest, there was something that bothered her. She was sure Sally’s melancholy played a part, but that day at Stephen’s funeral still nagged her. Emily reminded herself that Evan had sought forgiveness for his actions. It mattered not now if he had come to supervise their arrest. Still, she couldn’t help but wonder.
“There is something. That day in the cemetery, when the soldiers came...”
“Did I send them?”
He glanced at her. She held her breath.
“No,” he said. “I did not. I came across the funeral quite by accident. I assure you. Although once there, I did remember you saying who it was for.”
Emily exhaled. The carriage continued on. So did he.
“The lieutenant and his men were more than likely just out on patrol. That state flag on the coffin marked you as secessionists.”
“And you intervened for Julia’s sake....”
“Aye,” he said. “And yours.”
“Mine?”
“I had watched you among the wounded. You’d spent enough tears on this war already. I did not wish for you to shed more.”
Emily was shocked. He had thought that way then? “I’m sorry. I—”
“Don’t. Were I in your shoes, I would have asked the same question. Blind allegiance in any human being is a dangerous thing.”
“Or army,” she conceded. “Lewis Powell taught me that.”
He nodded slightly, jaw shifting. “I’d say we have both learned hard lessons from this war.” His voice was earnest, and when he looked at her, his eyes were full of sincerity. “Emily, that man in the hospital, the one who cursed your city, mistreated you and the men...he will not return.”
She was so drawn to him in that moment that Emily had to resist the urge not to lay her hand upon his arm. “I know.”
* * *
She said the words with such gentle certainty that his heart swelled beneath his vest. Before his sentiments could show, he focused his attention in front of him.
“Do you ride?” he asked.
“Oh, yes. Well, at least I used to, when I was younger.”
“Why did you stop?”
“My mother thought it unladylike.”
Curious, he glanced back at her. She smiled slightly.
“You see, my father taught me to ride astride.”
Evan grinned. He could just imagine her racing across the fields on some mission of mercy. “’Tis a skill that may still come in handy someday,” he said. “With all the pressing matters, I doubt the mission agencies take care to stock ladies’ saddles.”
She blinked. “How did you know of that?”
“The mission agencies? Your father told me.” He paused. “I’m sorry you’ve not met a more favorable response.”
She lowered her chin, but he could still see the disappointment on her face. “I thought of all places I would be welcome in the contraband camps. The former slaves are in such desperate need. I fear my Baltimore address is what caused them to reject me.”
He didn’t say anything, but he wondered about that, too. Suspicion of Maryland citizens ran rampant throughout the Capitol.
You should have signed the complete oath, he thought. Then none of this would even be an issue. You could have remained at the hospital. You could have stayed with me.
“I won’t give up hope,” she insisted. “I know somewhere there is a place for me.”
He wanted her to be happy, but he didn’t like the idea of her venturing off beyond the occupied city. The woods and remote roads were full of scalawags, thieves and deserters of both armies.
Still, he admired her persistence. “You are a fine nurse, a fine woman. Any relief agency would be privileged to have you.”
That lovely smile of hers emerged. “Thank you, Evan. I appreciate you saying such. You don’t know what that means to me.”
They came to their destination. Mr. Ward was already in the front garden. He greeted them and then assisted Emily from the carriage. Evan’s stomach rumbled when they stepped inside the house. Delicious scents drifted about him. He had not had a proper meal since his visit to Reverend Henry’s home.
Mrs. Ward welcomed him graciously, then ushered them into the dining room. The table was filled with several vegetables, soup, meat, bread and jam. As Evan helped Emily with her chair he was struck with the thought, The last time I did such, it was for Mary.
But when Emily looked up at him and thanked him sweetly, he felt his spirit lift. He took his place across from her. Mr. and Mrs. Ward were seated at opposite ends. Their daughter was in a cradle not far from the table.
Grace was spoken and the dishes were passed. The conversation and the company were pleasant.
“You have outdone yourself, Julia,” Emily said. “Everything is so beautiful.”
Even as thoughts of Mary drifted in and out of his mind, Evan found himself studying her. She smiled considerately as she listened to Mrs. Ward talk of what she and the baby had done that week. She posed thoughtful questions as Mr. Ward spoke of the meeting at the local abolitionist society.
Evan had to admit he was surprised by the Baltimore man’s involvement. “Then you openly oppose slavery?”
“Yes, indeed. Julia and I believe that we are created in God’s image and, therefore, we should treat others the way God treats us.”
“Well said,” Evan remarked.
Mrs. Ward spoke. “Samuel recently gave a speech at a city gathering denouncing the continuation of slavery here in Maryland.”
“What was the response?” Emily asked.
“He received a standing ovation.”
“Is that so?” Evan said.
Mr. Ward grinned at his wife. “Only because I had a very persuasive speechwriter.”
“Did you write it?” Emily asked her.
Mrs. Ward blushed, nodded, then smiled at her husband. The love between them was obvious. It reminded Evan of what he had once had.
“They make quite the pair, don’t they?” Emily said.
“Indeed.” Though by now he hardly knew what he was agreeing to. That quickly he had become distracted. The flickering candlelight painted her curls in an even lovelier shade of gold and her smile was captivating. All he wanted to do was stare. She was indeed a beautiful woman.
“Well,” Mrs. Ward then said. “Who is ready
for dessert?”
Her husband laughed. “I know I am.”
“Shall I help you?” Emily offered.
“No, but it sounds as though Rachael would like to escape from the cradle.”
Emily moved to scoop up the whimpering babe. Little legs wiggled beneath a soaked-through gown. “Oh, you poor girl. No wonder you are upset.” She looked at Mr. Ward. “I’ll see to her.”
“Thank you, Em.”
He turned to Evan. “Doctor, shall we retire to the parlor?”
Agreeing, he followed him into the next room. A fire was already burning. The home wasn’t furnished as lavishly as the Davis house, but it was happy and comfortable nonetheless. It reminded Evan of Pennsylvania.
The men sat down. Mrs. Ward soon returned with a tray of coffee and plates piled high with snow pudding. Her husband eagerly reached for one. Evan did, as well. Snow pudding was one of his favorites, second only to peach pie.
Emily returned with a much more contented Rachael. Claiming a chair across from him, she delicately balanced the baby in one hand and her dessert in the other. He studied her in the soft parlor light. She seemed perfectly at ease.
When Mrs. Ward took to the piano she played a lively little ditty that made the baby smile. Emily set aside her plate and stood to her feet. Moving in slow, rhythmic motions, she danced with the child. Evan could not tear his eyes away.
The gown she wore was trimmed in ribbons and ruffles, and it accented every curve. The pale hue suited her perfectly. It was not quite blue, not quite gray. She snuggled the babe close, a look of love in her eyes. The pleasure he felt reminded him of an old Scottish prayer, one he had memorized as a child.
As the hand is made for holding and the eye for seeing, Thou hast fashioned me, O Lord, for joy. Share with me the vision to find that joy everywhere....
He was almost persuaded to rise, to take the child and the woman in his arms and waltz them both across the floor.
* * *
When she noticed he was staring at her, Emily froze, and nearly begged pardon. The memory of that day among the scrub brushes when he’d spoken of his wife and child sliced her heart. Yet as she looked at him, she realized the expression on his face was not one of grief. It was one of fond memory perhaps, but also something more. On impulse, she moved to the settee.
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