Rules of Decorum

by Leigh Lee

  Chapter 13

  Over the next couple of weeks, Eugenia remained in the safety of the black void, as dreams mingled with brief shards of reality. In one dream, she found herself in front of a firing squad commanded by Captain Jeffery Bradford. She stood against a wall of stone with her hands and feet bound, begging the captain to spare her life. With a cold and heartless expression, the captain gave the command to fire. White, hot pain ripped through her chest. Each breath was a struggle. The inky darkness claimed her once again, and the nightmare faded away.

  This same horrid dream came back to haunt Eugenia many times through the days that followed. It always ended the same way, with her standing before a firing squad and the face of her captain ordering her demise. Never able to distinguish between dreams and reality, visions and wisps of consciousness came and went.

  In one such instance, Eugenia cried out. She did not know if she was dreaming or not, but an angel appeared at her side. Though she could not distinguish a face, the voice soothed and a damp cloth cooled her forehead. Terrified, she reached out to the angel, longing for his heavenly embrace. Strong arms wrapped around her, drawing her into an unearthly comfort. She was rocked, and her damp hair stroked, as soft words she could not quite comprehend were whispered into her ear.

  In a different dream, she was a small girl again, cradled in her father’s arms. She reached up to caress his face and told him how much she loved him. Her father smiled and then lowered her back to the bed, telling her he must leave and she could not go with him. As he walked from the room, the panic that she might never see him again made her follow him outside and into a rainstorm. It was getting dark, and she kept losing sight of him in the blinding sheets of rain. As she stumbled, the thunder boomed, drowning out her screams begging him to stop. Her foot tangled in a root jutting from the drenched earth, and she tumbled forward, rolling down a steep hill until an object lying on the ground halted her descent. Eugenia swept her rain-soaked hair from her eyes, just as a bolt of lightning ripped across the sky, illuminating the dark night. She screamed as she discovered the lifeless body of her father lying covered in blood on the ground.

  Jumping to her feet, she struggled against the force of the wind and ran. Unable to see past the storm, Eugenia called out. “Help me.”

  “I am here, girl.” A male voice answered from behind. Eugenia whirled and collided with someone. She gasped in horror when she stared into the cruel eyes of Sheriff Dunlap. He raised a pistol and shouted over the roar of the storm. “Murderer! Now it is your turn to die. Come, join me in Hell!” He fired the gun and pain shot through her chest.

  It was hard to breathe, and Eugenia moaned, laboring with each attempt. A gentle voice soothed and shushed her. As flashes of light and dark whirled around her, strong arms lifted her with such ease that she thought she was floating through the air. Then her fevered body was lowered into the tepid water. The shock of the coolness against her fevered skin brought her briefly into consciousness. Opening her eyes for an instant, she became aware she was inside a structure—a house perhaps—for there were walls and even a window. There was a man, whose identity continued to elude her, but as soon as he spoke, Eugenia recognized the gentle voice of her angel.

  Immediately he was at her side, sponging her face, her arms, and chest. Her skin felt so hot that she wondered if she might be burning in a fire. The coolness of the wet cloth gave only momentary relief from the scorching heat that devoured her flesh. She cried out, certain she was suffering the fires of Hell itself. As she fought to rise, to escape, the dark figure pressed her back into the water murmuring soft words, bidding her remain. Be this the Angel of Death, or an angel of mercy, Eugenia pled with him for leniency. “I killed him before he could kill me,” she murmured. “He was the sheriff. He murdered my father. I was next.”

  A voice asked. “Who?”

  “Sheriff Dunlap. He was a bad man. Evil—evil,” she whispered repeatedly.

  A gentle hand pressed her shoulders back into the cooling water, and the kind voice assured her everything was going to be all right.

  Toward the end of the second week, Eugenia awoke and was lucid for a few minutes. An elderly woman she did not recognize smiled at her and asked if she thought she could take some broth. Eugenia nodded. As the woman spooned some of the delicious liquid between her parched lips, she introduced herself as Mrs. Maddie Stewart and told her she had been helping to care for her.

  Eugenia’s throat was so dry it was hard to speak, but she managed to ask in a husky whisper, “Am I dying? I saw an angel. He spoke to me.”

  Surprise and then deep pity flickered over Mrs. Stewart’s face. “No, child. You have been gravely ill, but the doctor says you will be fine. He has been with you every moment he could get away from his duties.”

  Eugenia tried to sit up, but Mrs. Stewart urged her back to the mattress. “Easy, child. You must rest now. You are safe. No harm will come to you here.”

  Eugenia wanted to ask, to know more about the gentle savior, the angel who had rescued her from the pits of hell. Nevertheless, exhaustion dragged her down, and the question died unspoken on her lips. She sank into a deeper, healing sleep, devoid of the nightmares that had haunted her for the past weeks.

  That night, Eugenia woke again long enough to sip on a cup of tea. Shortly after Mrs. Stewart took the empty teacup away, she lay in the darkness feeling as if she floated on a calm sea. Whether it was within the foggy mist of a dream or a real happening, she could not tell for sure, but Eugenia sensed the presence of the angel who had cared so tenderly for her through her illness. Turning on her side, she opened her eyes and saw the dark figure as she remembered him, sitting on the chair next to her bed. He reached to brush away the strands of hair that had fallen over her face. She swore she could feel his fingertips caressing her forehead.

  Eugenia smiled at him. Though he was little more than a shadow in the darkness, she knew he smiled back, and the knowledge calmed her. “I want to thank you—thank you for saving me,” she whispered.

  “There is no need,” was the angel’s soft reply.

  “Why—did you?”

  The angel was silent for a long moment. When he finally spoke, the rich timbre of his voice shook with emotion. “I could not imagine an existence without you. Now sleep.”

  “Will you stay with me?” she begged. “I am so frightened.”

  “I will,” he reassured in a husky voice. “I will never be far from you. Rest.”

  “Promise?” Eugenia asked, her lids growing heavy and slumberous.

  “I promise,” the angel pledged. “Sleep.”

  A contented smile curved her lips, and Eugenia drifted to sleep with the assurance the angel would watch over her, allowing no harm to befall her.

  The next morning, she awoke feeling more alert but still very weak. Finding herself in a strange place with no knowledge of how she came to be there frightened her. Her eyes darted around, searching for anything familiar. The room was bright and cheery, decorated in colors of yellow and light blue. Eugenia pressed her palms against the soft mattress to brace herself into a sitting position. She was dressed in a clean, pale green nightgown and a patchwork quilt of the same colors of the room covered her.

  A cool, fresh breeze swept through an open window and fluttered the yellow lace curtains. A whiff of clover drifted in with the breeze, and she delighted in its sweetness. Outside, Eugenia heard the bleating of goats, the clucking of chickens and horses neighing. From the noise, she became convinced she was in someone’s farmhouse, but where or how she got there was a puzzle. All she could recall were fuzzy images, and it was impossible to tell if the memories were real or part of her tortured dreams. The effort to remember made her head pound, and she sank deeper into the bedding, confused.

  A light tapping at the door startled her. A short, plump woman entered holding a tray of food. “Good morning. I was hoping you might be up and would like a bite to eat.” The woman’s smile was kind, and Eugenia smiled back and nodded.


  “You may not remember me, but I am Maddie Stewart. You have been here since you fell ill almost three weeks ago.”

  “Ill?” Eugenia quizzed, trying to remember.

  “Yes, you’ve had pneumonia, but you are much improved.”

  Mrs. Stewart helped Eugenia sit up in bed, propping the pillows behind her. Then she placed a wooden tray across Eugenia’s lap laden with a plate of toast covered with raspberry jam and a steaming cup of tea. As the scent of food wafted to her nose, Eugenia realized she was hungry—starving. She eyed the food and popped a quarter slice of the jam-covered toast into her mouth, then licked her lips before devouring another.

  Mrs. Stewart reached out to slow her hand laughing. “Not so fast, dear. It is good you have an appetite, but your stomach has not had much over the past few weeks, and it might need time to adjust to food again. Better to take it a mite slower.”

  Eugenia did slow down because she had many questions and could not eat and talk at the same time. “Where am I, and how did I come to be here?” was the first on her list.

  “You are in my home, about two miles south of Gettysburg. You were brought here when you fell ill. Your doctor was worried to death about you and has watched over you like a hawk.” Mrs. Stewart pointed to an overstuffed chair by the bed. “He sat in that very chair. Many a time, in the early hours of morning, I would come in to relieve him and find him dozing with you in his arms. I would wake him, and he would head back to his duties at camp, only to return the next evening to be with you again.”

  “Doctor?” Eugenia asked as memories flashed through her mind. “There was a man, an angel…or someone.”

  “He said that you were very important to him, and I was to take good care of you. He left money in payment for your care, but I told him I did not need it. You see, my own husband is also fighting in the war, so I am happy to help out when it involves another military man’s wife.”

  Eugenia’s eyes flew open wide. “I, a wife?” Whose wife? She tried to remember anything that would explain what Mrs. Stewart had said but had no memories of any such wedding. She stammered, “I—I—do not understand.”

  Seeing her confusion, Maddie hurried on. “My dear, it is not uncommon to have a lingering touch of amnesia after being as sick as you have been. Your fever was high. We almost lost you. Had it not been for your husband’s skills as a physician, you would not have survived.”

  Eugenia blinked. “Husband?” Vivid dreams and nightmares still haunted her mind, but none of them indicated she might have a husband. The only memory that seemed real was the one of the angel.

  “Why yes, dear, and such a nice young man! So devoted to you!”

  Deciding it could not be so, Eugenia tried to explain. “No, no. I do not think I am married—at least—I do not remember.” She snuck a glance at her left hand. Was she wearing a ring? None present.

  Maddie interrupted by holding up her hand to halt Eugenia’s anxiety. The woman appeared flustered and embarrassed. “Perhaps that was an assumption on my part, thinking he was your husband. Your fever was high, and you thrashed about, delirious. You told him how much you loved him and how you did not wish to die, murmuring the words over and over.” She flushed. “And he, well, he was devastated by your plight. While you were ill, Captain Bradford held you in his arms often. It seemed the only thing that would ease your terrors and calm you.”

  At the mention of Captain Bradford, memories of the night she fell ill came flooding back. “Captain Bradford was here—with me?”

  “Why yes, dear. I thought he was your husband. He is not?” At Eugenia’s vehement shaking of her head, Mrs. Stewart’s eyes widened. “Good grief.”

  A vague memory, the one of the angel bathing her, had Eugenia flaming with embarrassment. Had that been the captain as well? It was a shock to learn the captain had been at her side throughout her illness, but try as she might, she could not remember much of it. Other than a few fuzzy glimpses, the gentle voice of the angel was all that seemed real. Though she had more questions, she decided for the time being silence was the wiser course to follow. Besides, each time she tried to force memories to the surface, her head began to pound.

  As she listened to the older woman prattle on, she did learn that the Stewarts had owned the farm for fifteen years. Her husband, Captain Henry Stewart, was away, serving in the cavalry for the Union. Since the onset of the conflict at Gettysburg, Mrs. Stewart took in soldiers whose injuries were not too severe. These men were the last to receive treatment at the field hospitals and often set aside due to the overwhelming number suffering more life threatening injuries. As she put it, she hoped that some pious woman would do the same for her own sweet Captain Stewart if he had the misfortune of being injured.

  Eugenia slept the rest of the day, waking to eat a small lunch, then fell asleep right after her tea. That evening, Mrs. Stewart was removing her empty tray when the sound of hoof beats approached. She went to the window to look out. “Ah—there is your doctor now. He will be so pleased to find you awake!” She grinned and hurried down the stairs with the tray to answer the door.

  Still weak and unable to stand alone, Eugenia drew the quilts up to her chin. This would be her first lucid encounter with Captain—uh—Dr. Bradford since he had discovered the truth about her. Dreading the moment, she could not stop trembling at the thought of seeing him again.

  As her commanding officer, Captain Bradford would decide the course her life would take henceforth. Many horror stories about the fate of spies were always circulating camp, but it was the last memory she had of him, his anguished look of betrayal and disgust that caused her the most concern.

  She feared the moment of reckoning was at hand, and she was weaker than a kitten, unable to do a thing to escape whatever horrible fate was in store for her. She could only stare in fright at the entrance to the room and await the man who would make the decision whether she would live or die.

  Mrs. Stewart’s recounting of the doctor’s labors to save her life was all that gave her any reason to hope. She found the tale hard to believe. Why would anyone make such an effort, if the ultimate intention was to have her shot for her crimes afterward? When she heard boots pounding up the steps, the terrors from her nightmares resurfaced. Gripped by foreboding, Eugenia ducked beneath the quilt.

  Chapter 14

  The broad grin that creased Jeff’s cheeks as he rounded the corner in the hall turned to sudden alarm when he entered the bedroom. He had been eager to see his patient now that she was awake, but the piteous shivering lump in the bed tore at his heartstrings.

  Mrs. Stewart had given him a report of how frightened the young woman was to see him again. She advised him that she had just given their patient a potion to help calm her, but apparently, it had not had time to take effect. Now, after weeks of being the only one capable of easing her feverish fears, it was hard for Jeff to accept that the closer he got, the more violent her trembling became.

  Jeff halted just inside the room. “Please cease your trembling,” he soothed. “I am not here to harm you.”

  Lowering the bed coverings, she peeked over the quilt in wonderment. “It is true, you are the angel. You sat by me—comforted me.”

  As he viewed the awe on her face, he was humbled. “Angel? Er—yes I was with you, though I am not sure angelic is the correct term.”

  Her emerald green eyes, seeming large in her small face, stared at him in bewilderment. “Oh, but it is. I remember hearing your voice—” her eyes grew rounder, and her voice trailed off.

  This was the first time she had been conscious since her illness began. Jeff welcomed the enchanting picture presented him—a sharp contrast to the sergeant. Framed by mountains of quilts, her creamy complexion now devoid of soot, the rosy lips and slight blush staining her cheeks gave the girl a fairy-like appearance. “Come on—come out from under the quilts and let me see you.”

  Jeff smiled when the auburn head fully emerged from hiding. She peered back at him. “Well, there you
are,” he said. “I am here to examine you. However, it will be difficult if you continue to dart beneath the bedding whenever I take a step toward you. Will you allow me?” he teased. “Or are you going to disappear again?”

  “I—I will allow you.” She replied hesitantly but continued to stare at him with wide eyes.

  “Thank you. It is a shock seeing this timid side of you. I suppose I am more used to the impertinent lad,” Jeff cajoled.

  Never taking his eyes from her, he swept the Hardee hat from his head and tossed it in a chair. His gauntlets followed. She watched his every move as he removed the needed instruments from his medical bag.

  “How are you feeling tonight?”

  As he approached the bed, her cheeks reddened. She managed a weak, “I think I am much improved, doctor.”

  The title she used made him frown as he sat on the bed to face her, but he thought it wise to say nothing. Applying his hand to her brow, he studied her face. “Splendid! Your fever is gone. You were one very sick young lady.”

  A feeble smile lifted her lips. “So I have been told. I understand I have you to thank for my recovery,” she replied as she continued to watch him with apprehension.

  Jeff waved off the comment. “No need to thank me.”

  “I must, sir,” she began, but he shushed her. His hand surrounded her small wrist.

  “Ha! Your pulse is stronger.” He grinned, triumphant in his success. Reaching for his stethoscope, he laid it against her chest to listen. “Your lungs are clearing. Have you been coughing much?”

  “Only when I overexert myself,” she said before falling into silence. His next ministrations involved his face coming within a few inches of hers and the sudden nearness had her shrinking back into the pillows.

  “Calm yourself, my dear. I need to look at your eyes,” he explained with an amused chuckle. With professional confidence, he reached for her shoulders and tugged her up into a sitting position.