Die Once Live Twice

by Lawrence Dorr

  “The cholera and typhoid at Pennsylvania Hospital have killed more soldiers than injury,” Katherine responded. “All the water is boiled now. Do you do that here?”

  He shook his head. “Too many hospitals, too many new sick each day.”

  As they bounced their way through the crowded, dusty roads towards the center of town, Katherine was shocked to see that the city appeared to be one large infirmary. Every street corner, every alley, every church and every other available building was thick with hospital carts. Old men in white tunics and young boys in blood-stained trousers hauled litters to and fro. The natural perfume of trees, grass, and rivers was hidden beneath the stench of fouled water and the smoke from wood fires. Katherine’s eyes welled from the hazy layer of fumes as they ventured deeper into the city.

  When they arrived at Campbell, the adjunct delivered Katherine to the chief nurse in the Administration Building. “I will meet you here at five o’clock to transport you to the Willard Hotel,” the soldier said. “If I have your schedule correct, you leave on the nine o’clock Army train to Philadelphia in three days?”

  “Yes. I will see you tonight at five. Thank you.”

  The chief nurse escorted Katherine to the officer’s ward where Patrick was housed. “The general wards are these four buildings that extend out from the Administration Building,” she explained as they walked. “The officers’ ward, though, is separate.” The chief nurse handed off Katherine to a young red-haired woman in a nurse’s uniform and bonnet in the doorway of Patrick’s ward. “May I help you?” Patricia asked.

  “Yes,” Katherine answered, surprised to hear a slight drawl in her voice. “I was told I could find Captain Patrick Sullivan here. I’m his fiancée.”

  “Oh, my. You must be Miss Lovington. I’ve heard so much about you from the good captain. Please allow me to take you in.”

  There were fifty or so beds in the sunlit room, with four large windows along one wall. Loud complaints were noticeably absent—due to the laudanum, she knew, and the whiskey. Suddenly Katherine saw him. He was thin, sallow, almost unrecognizable, but she would have known him if he had become a wraith. The tears she had held off all morning trailed down her cheeks as she rushed to the tiny metal-frame bed. Clasping his hand in both of hers she leaned over to place her cheek against his bearded face to wake him up.

  Patrick awoke with a start. Jerking his hand free of Katherine’s grasp, his whole body shifted, causing his traction unit to shake at the end of the bed. He yelped in surprise. Patricia leaned over to him, “Captain, you’re fine. You have a very special visitor. Look!”

  Patrick focused on Katherine’s face. “Katherine? Is it....?”

  “Yes, Patrick. It’s me!” Katherine leaned to him again, hugging his upper body. Speechless, she held him tightly and then kissed him passionately on his lips. It was six months since they had been together at his father’s funeral. They had spent a week together, making love every night. She was actually surprised she hadn’t gotten pregnant, despite her precautions.

  Katherine took his hand, smiling with real joy at being with him. “Well, having seen the other barracks, I must say this is nicer,” Katherine said.

  “Yes.” He gazed lovingly at her, then looked away. “It is not so bad, sometimes.”

  “Did the Army let you know I was coming?”

  “They told me, and I have told everyone you were coming.” Suddenly they became aware of all the nearby patients looking at them. “All my roommates have been waiting to see you. You see, everyone,” he yelled out. “She’s here. I told you how beautiful she is.” There was a chorus of “Pleased to meet you” and then the men all joined in shouting, “Hip, Hip, Hooray” to Katherine.

  She turned red slightly, but then smiled and said to Patrick, “I guess I should be flattered. That is, I am. I can see how proud you are of me.”

  “We all can attest to that, ma’am,” Abel said heartily. “We can’t get him to stop talking about you.”

  Patrick looked questioningly and then said, “Katherine Lovington, this is Abel Johnson. He lost an arm in the Wilderness, but he doesn’t let it get him down.”

  “Yep, I’m still able,” Abel said, and looked steadily at Katherine.

  Katherine, realizing something was expected of her, turned to Patrick for help. “Yes, our Abel is still able,” Patrick said, and laughed a little too heartily. Katherine’s mouth made a little O and she laughed, too. Patrick nodded at Abel and saluted. “That will be all for now, lieutenant.” Abel saluted and lay back.

  Patrick turned to Katherine, looking serious. “I am thrilled you are here, but your traveling worries me. You shouldn’t be traveling in this part of the country. The rebels have been retreating south after being routed at Gettysburg. They are taking it out on anyone they can find. Especially women. It’s disgusting what they do. And that’s before they kill them. Some are horribly maimed.”

  “I was safe, Patrick. I came here in a military train and I’m being escorted in the city by the Army. You know our company is making uniforms and essentially giving them to the Army, so they show us every courtesy. They told me this was the best hospital for you and arranged almost private nursing for you. Is your care good?”

  “Oh yes, oh yes,” Patrick said hurriedly. “The best.” He looked nervous for a minute and then quickly said, “Your trip was okay, then?”

  “I couldn’t wait any longer to see you. Letters just aren’t enough.” She raised her head and looked him in the eye. “I’ve missed you every second of every minute for six months.”

  Patrick relaxed and a smile etched his sunken face. The jut of his handsome jaw returned. Katherine guessed that he had lost at least twenty pounds since she had last seen him and his customary vigor seemed drained out of him. “I’m primarily worried about your well-being, my darling,” she went on. “I have confidence you’ll heal from the gunshot wound, but there’s a cholera outbreak in the city and that’s more dangerous. Do not drink any water that is not boiled.”

  “I don’t think we boil water. Why do that?”

  “It kills the germination of cholera and typhoid. We do it at Penn Hospital. These diseases kill more soldiers than guns. I’m going to tell your nurse to boil all the water for this ward. I’m here for three days so I’ll be sure they make that change.”

  “I’m sure Patricia will do it.”

  “Patricia?”

  Patrick frowned again. “Oh, yes. The nurse who brought you to me. She’s been...very helpful. You can’t know what it’s like, being here day after day.”

  Katherine squared her shoulders and raised her head. “I’m sure I can do a better job of taking care of you than she. We need to take you out of here.”

  He reached over and held Katherine’s hand. “Tell me about the business. Are you getting cotton for the mills?”

  “Yes, there is cotton available. The South has to sell their cotton to pay for the war. So we buy their cotton and make uniforms for their enemy! The South is beat now. Gettysburg was the crucial victory for us. I don’t know how long they will hold on, but we will win.”

  Katherine continued with her description of the state of Donovan & Sullivan for long minutes. Arthur Hampton, the firm’s attorney, was the face of the company now that Jeffrey Sullivan was dead and her grandfather was incapacitated from cancer, which had spread throughout his body. She was included in all decisions by Arthur, who sat on the Board, so that the men of Philadelphia and New York did not know that they were dealing with a woman.

  “I hope the war is over soon,” she said. “It’s so disruptive. Look at the mess this city, our Capitol, is in. I’ve asked Arthur if there is anything we can do about it, but he says it’s not our responsibility and we have enough on our plate already. I want you to help me,” she said earnestly.

  Patrick’s eyes focused suddenly. “Help you with...”

  “Help me convince Arthur to do something about all the deprivation.”

  “Who’s Arthur?”


  Katherine looked confused for a second and then brightened. “Oh my, I’m sure I’m tiring you out. And you don’t need to hear everything about the business right away. We’ll talk about it later.”

  Patrick suddenly grasped her hands with almost as much force as he used to have and looked at her with frightening intensity. “Katherine, I can come home in a month. I may... may not be able to walk quite properly. They won’t tell me if I’ll walk normally. I think I’m done with the Army. I don’t think they want me with only one good leg. But I want to come home with you anyway.” His eyes pleaded with Katherine.

  “I’m already preparing—”

  “I may be a goddamned cripple,” he whispered fiercely.

  “Patrick, you will be my husband,” she replied, equally emphatic. “Whatever you are, whoever you become, you will be mine and I will be yours.”

  He gazed at her, almost with awe. “You will? Really, you will?”

  “Yes, my love.” She smiled widely, her eyes shining.

  He pulled her back to him and they kissed passionately while his roommates applauded. “It was as good as it looked,” Patrick hollered out.

  “I’ll tell you more, Patrick Sullivan,” Katherine said, still hugging him with her mouth near his ear. “I have our wedding planned for Christmas week. We will celebrate the Lord’s birth and the birth of our marriage at the same time!”

  Patrick leaned away from Katherine and reached under his bed. “We have to celebrate!” He poured some whiskey into his only glass and he gave it to Katherine, clinking the bottle to her glass. “To my wife!” he called out and lifted his bottle to the room. He then chugged from the bottle while Katherine sipped from her glass. He hesitated, then corked the bottle again and set it back under his bed. Katherine now knew for sure he was drinking all day.

  Patricia brought a basin with soap. “Would you like to bathe him, Miss Lovington?”

  “Yes, I will,” Katherine replied, eager to feel his body. As Patricia turned, Katherine said, “Nurse—what is your name?”

  “Nurse O’Reilly.”

  “Yes. Could you please boil all the water you use with Patrick? Even this bathwater. That’s what we do at Pennsylvania Hospital in Philadelphia. It reduces disease.”

  Patricia pursed her lips. “We don’t do that. I...I suppose...I’ll ask the chief nurse.” Patricia turned to go.

  “If there is any resistance, please tell me tomorrow. Thank you.”

  After Patricia left, Katherine whispered to Patrick, “An ineffectual young woman. Do you think she’s really competent as a nurse?”

  “Don’t think about her,” Patrick said, gesturing towards the washrag and soap. “Just please, a bath...” As Katherine bathed Patrick’s thigh she felt an erection rub against her hand. She blushed and stole a look at his face. He mouthed words to her, “Rub it.”

  Taken aback, she shook her head, whispering, “No. Not in the middle of the day with all these men watching.” He sighed and closed his eyes for the rest of the bath. As she dried him off, he said in a low voice, “Tomorrow. Can you stay later? After dark?”

  “Patrick,” she whispered back just as Patricia strode up to the bedside.

  “Your carriage is here, Miss Lovington.”

  “Oh dear, already? Thank you.” She kissed Patrick passionately again, as Patricia watched with a sour look on her face. “I will be here tomorrow late morning, my love.”

  Patrick pulled her close. “Oh, Katherine, I love you so,” he said, not caring that Patricia heard him.

  “I need you,” she whispered back. Patricia stomped away.

  As Katherine walked out, she took one look back over her shoulder. “Damn this war!” she muttered aloud. He is broken in spirit. I will bring him back to his old self. He will regain his pride!

  The second and third days of Katherine’s visit were jovial times for Patrick. The men began to enjoy her company, as she went to the bedside of all those near Patrick and spoke with them. Reticent at first, the men gradually began to tell her about their war, facing musket balls and bayonets, watching their companions slaughtered. She smiled patiently at their bravado and sympathized with their helplessness. Dependent on nurses for everything, they had lost their self-esteem, their manliness. She had learned how to help them: talk of their future, their dreams. She taught the nurses to boil their water and explained the added safety. “Miss Lovington,” Abel Johnson said to her, “you’re our very own Florence Nightingale.” When she left for the hotel the second evening, they all hollered over to Patrick how lucky he was.

  On her last day, Katherine told Patrick that she planned to return in a month, and stay until Patrick was released so that she could bring him home. “If I’m in a cast, we’ll need a railcar. Lying down would be much easier on the leg.”

  “Please do not worry about that, Patrick. I’ll buy a railcar if I need to. Nothing will stop me from getting you home,” Katherine answered with her smile.

  “Can you stay after dark tonight?”

  “Yes. Yes, I’ve decided I will, Patrick. I made arrangements with the head nurse. You are more important to me than decorum right now.”

  Patrick beamed and took several deep breaths. Even the anticipation of Katherine touching him made him stiffen. “I wish it were winter, not July,” he said happily, “so darkness would descend sooner.”

  At five o’clock, Secretary of War Edwin Stanton walked onto the ward with two bodyguards. As the men in the ward stared in astonishment, Stanton went to Patrick’s bedside and greeted both Patrick and Katherine. He spoke for a few minutes with Patrick and then to Katherine. “Miss Lovington, I know this is the time you return to your hotel, so I came to accompany you tonight. President Lincoln is dining at the Willard and wants to meet you. Arthur Hampton said that you would be able to discuss some arrangements between the Army and Donovan & Sullivan. Please join me.” He extended his elbow.

  “But...not tonight!” Patrick blurted out.

  Secretary Stanton looked at him in surprise. “I am afraid there is no other night, Captain. The President said it was urgent.” Patrick fumed silently.

  Katherine put her index finger to her lips and leaned to kiss him politely good-bye. “I’ll see you within the month, my love. Until then, I will miss you with all my heart.” To Stanton she said, “What an honor it will be to meet President Lincoln.” Patrick watched her go, then reached for his whiskey.

  Chapter Nine

  BETRAYAL

  The Campbell Hospital doctor came by Patrick’s bed and declared his femur bone healed. “No cast is necessary. Besides, we’re short of plaster,” he murmured as he left the bedside. “Nurse O’Reilly, you can remove the traction.”

  When his leg was free Patrick exclaimed in surprise, “My leg feels so light. It doesn’t feel like my leg.” He sat up to look at his leg for the first time in three months. His muscle was severely atrophied and he could see his leg bowed outward where the bone had been broken. Panic filled his brain. It’s not my leg. It’s a stick. A crooked stick. I’ll never walk right.

  “I want to stand up,” Patrick said forcefully.

  “Why, let’s get you out of bed,” Patricia drawled back. “I’ll fetch a wheelchair.”

  While she scurried away, Patrick swung his legs over the edge of the low bed and planted his feet easily on the floor. He sat there just two minutes and his left lower leg and foot began to throb. He looked down and it was purple and swollen. “Sweet Jesus,” he said out loud in fear and with his two hands lifted his leg back into the bed. He rested on his elbows so he could watch his leg, which quickly became white again. When Patricia returned with the wheelchair he told her he wasn’t getting up into it and why. She explained the blood was pooling in the lower leg, causing the purple color and swelling. It would improve day by day.

  Patrick sat up every hour and each time he hung his leg a bit longer. By the afternoon of the second day he could tolerate the ache. “Patricia, bring me some sticks—I am going to stand. Then walk.” Wh
en he stood it started all over again. Now his whole leg throbbed and swelled. He couldn’t take it after two minutes. “Damn, damn,” he cursed loudly.

  “It will take a couple of days again, Captain.” From across the room Abel gave him advice. “And when you start walking it will take a couple more days just to go the length of this ward. Nothing to do but tough it out.”

  Patrick figured it out. He stood every hour until he could feel the ache become dull, then began taking steps. Ten steps on the sticks. Then twenty. Finally he could walk the length of the ward. Five days after he first sat up, Patricia arrived at his bedside with a large, heavy-duty wooden wheelchair with a tall back and tight wooden wheels. “Where are we going in that thing?” Patrick asked.

  “You are going outside for the first time in three months, Captain.”

  Patricia helped Patrick get settled in the chair, and as she wheeled him towards the door the other men in the ward lightly applauded. Abel hollered out, “You’ll love the meadow, Captain. I’ve been there. It has beautiful flowers. Careful now, don’t lie down on the roses,” he laughed.

  “I don’t intend to be lying down.”

  “Oh, so you’re going to be doing it standing up, then? That’s quite a fast recovery!”

  “Hush, Patrick,” Patricia said. “They will have their fun and you can’t stop them. It’s jealousy.”

  Patrick looked up at her, his eyes narrow, “Have you been to this meadow before, Patricia?”

  “Only alone.” She smiled.

  Patricia had picked the spot for their first lunch together in the meadow about five hundred yards from the ward. Thick groves of trees surrounded a clearing of soft grass that offered a view of the river. Patrick was thrilled to be outdoors again and closed his eyes as he lifted his face to the sunlight. The grass smelled so sweet Patrick could nearly taste it. “I feel as if I’ve come alive again, Patricia. I can’t wait to feel the earth under me again.”