Angel of the Somme: The Great War, Book 1

by Terri Meeker

  Chapter Thirteen

  Lily slept as though she’d been dosed with morphine, solid and dreamless. When Rose shook her awake for morning rounds, it took a few moments before she could lift her heavy eyelids. After grabbing some toast in the kitchen, she slipped into the morning meeting, a little late.

  Matron Marshall was in the midst of issuing marching orders for the day and for once, her all-seeing eye didn’t spot Lily’s tardy arrival. There’d been fresh fighting outside the village of Albert, a particularly nasty encounter with a lot of hand-to-hand combat.

  Sister Cudahee would be running a quick class on wound irrigation therapies for the new VADs while Lily and the more seasoned women completed breakfast rounds.

  The cook had prepared waffles and ham, and the men were full of compliments at the extra effort. Once Lily had finished delivering the rest of her meals, she headed toward her captain. Though she’d checked in on him several times since confronting him, she’d been unable to talk to him. She was eager to dispel the awkwardness that now lay between them.

  Lily pulled a chair next to his bed and gave him a smile. He looked up and returned her smile with one of his own, though it was very weak and didn’t bring out the dimples in his cheeks.

  “Sleep well?” she asked.

  “The sleep of the drugged,” he said. The dark circles beneath his eyes told her that it hadn’t been a restful slumber.

  “Breakfast is a corker, Bluebird.” Gordy’s voice sounded full of energy. She couldn’t help but smile at his boundless enthusiasm.

  “I’m pleased to hear that,” Lily said as she turned to check on him.

  Gordy was feeding himself with no mishaps at all. His head wobble had improved to the point where it only appeared when he was very tired. It felt wonderful to see these small successes, especially in light of Sam’s disturbing behavior.

  She perched Sam’s tray on her lap and cut a forkful of waffle, no doubt cold by now. Sam opened his mouth and accepted her offering without complaint.

  Apart from a few murmured “May I have a drink?” types of requests, he ate his breakfast in relative silence. Though his body was in the bed beside her, his mind was in another place entirely.

  After she placed the last bit of waffle into his mouth, she paused. A smudge of jam clung to his bottom lip. She reached up to dab it away with the napkin, making sure to compose her face to an efficient and nurselike expression. His skin was warm, and the stubble on his chin prickled against her fingertips.

  This strange new formality hung between them in a thick cloud. She sighed heavily, then placed his tray on the bed side table and reached for his mail.

  “There’s a letter here that needs reading, as I remember. That is, unless you don’t feel up to it.”

  “Yes.”

  She tilted her head toward him.

  “I mean no. I feel quite up to hearing my mail.” An awkward pause, then, “Thank you.”

  She reached into the basket for the unopened letter on top, ignoring the badly crumpled letter from Bad which had brought on the yesterday’s seizure.

  “Shall we start with the one from your sister?”

  He smiled weakly and the corners of his eyes crinkled in a way that made her heart give an uncomfortable thud. She busied her hands by opening the letter.

  In the past few days, she’d missed reading to him. She could never confess to him that sometimes, after a particularly grueling shift on triage, she comforted herself by imagining his life there. A peaceful existence on a country estate with a loving family.

  “‘Dearest Older Brother Who Owes Me More Than a Few Letters,’” the words read. Lily tucked her head down to hide her grin.

  “‘The rains have gone now and the crops are looking fine. I’m already planning for the harvest. You’re not to worry about it, darling Sam. Since the McCarty boys are also needed at the Powell farm, Mr. Lou has signed up to help as well. He’s older than God, but we should be able to do a respectable job. Mum and I will pitch in as well. I’m getting quite good at so many things, Sam. I think you’d be impressed.

  “‘I manage to keep Father away from the heavy tasks, but I will confess, it’s no small job. He still struggles under the delusion that he’s twenty-one and can lift a bull with just willpower and charm.

  “‘Mum has been busy converting the downstairs study into your new bedroom. I told her that you’d likely be able to still climb stairs, but she wouldn’t be deterred. She’s been worried about you terribly and it gives her something to do. Besides, it’s a charming room that we weren’t really using anyway. You’ll have a lovely view over the back garden. No doubt when Baden sees your upgrade, he’ll be putting in for the front parlour.’”

  Lily turned the page.

  “‘Over the weekend, we went up to London to see the picture show that is all the rage: The Battle of the Somme. I suppose you’ve heard of it. It’s got two hours of actual footage from the trenches and was playing at thirty-four cinemas just in London. I’d hoped the film would ease Mum’s mind, but it seems to have had the opposite effect. Poor Mrs. Finchner was in a faint when she saw her boy, Simon. He was reported Missing In Action after the first day of the offensive and they fear the worst.

  “‘I’m just glad we’ve got you, Sam. Even if you can’t write. I suppose my topics are terribly transparent, aren’t they? That you won’t have to work hard once you return and that we have a place ready for you. We want you to come home, Sam. Simple as that. It doesn’t matter a fig if you’re not the same as you used to be. You’re my brother and always will be. Please do all you can to return to us.

  “‘With all my love, Your sister, Evie

  “‘P.S. Just as I was ready to post this, Mum came in from the market. Apparently Lady P had been seen yet again. She’s grown quite wild—avoiding town all together. Something must be done, but I’m not quite certain of what. Mrs. Gill reports seeing her by the old mill pond bridge where several young lads were taking turns trying to ride her!’”

  When Lily heard the captain’s burst of laughter, she nearly dropped the letter.

  Several young lads trying to ride a lady? In public? And this amused Sam? Lily knew the English had their peculiar ways, but Sam had seemed so sweet, so normal. She bit her lip, unsure of what to say.

  She folded the letter and placed it back inside the envelope, taking as much time as she could as she composed her thoughts. After she tucked his sister’s letter away, she reached back into the basket for the crumpled bit of paper, the one that had caused his seizure.

  “You needn’t read the letter from Baden,” Sam said.

  “You don’t want me to?”

  “I’ve already heard it.” He looked past her shoulder toward Gordy, with a guilty expression.

  “You promised you wouldn’t—”

  “Gordy read it to me,” he interrupted.

  She whirled around to glare at Sam’s neighbor.

  Gordy was all smiles and innocence. “What’s got you so bothered, Bluebird?”

  “You got out of bed and read the Captain’s mail to him?”

  “Well, yes. Was trying to help, I was. Don’t go giving me your Severe Sister look. Thought if it was so important that he’d risk pitching a fit, I ought to give it a go.”

  “So you climbed out of bed, unescorted, when you know better,” Lily said.

  “And performed a heroic deed for a poor, sad wounded fellow,” Gordy said. “Thing like that deserves a reward, not glares—by my reckoning. Maybe even a medal. Or a kiss.”

  “Incorrigible,” she muttered, but she couldn’t really stay angry at Gordy for any length of time. She turned to face Sam. “I’m scheduled for triage at the train station now, so if that’s all you need, I should be off.”

  Sam reached and touched the back of her hand to stop her. His fingertips were warm and gentle.

  “If you
could tell me something. I was wondering if you could check on recent admittances.”

  “Another friend of yours?” she asked. “Does he have a name this time?”

  “Surname of Buchanan. He would have arrived sometime in the last twenty-four hours. He was wounded near Albert.”

  She perked up at that. “We’ve gotten quite a few wounded from Bert. Most of last night’s hospital train.”

  An expression of relief flitted across his face.

  “Though you know we’re only one of half a dozen hospitals that could have taken him in,” she quickly amended.

  “Thank you,” he said. “It’s very important to me.”

  She stood and slid the chair against the wall. “Why is it important?”

  “It’s difficult to explain.”

  “You have a lot in your life that’s difficult to explain, Captain.”

  “And my brother swears I’m the simplest creature on the face of the earth. Compared me unfavorably to a sheep more than a few times.” He smiled and his cheeks creased, making him look like an impish schoolboy. She had to smile in return. Seeing him relaxing again was like a balm to her heart.

  “Miss Curtis.” Sister Newell’s voice broke their conversation. “The ambulance is waiting for you. Now, if you please.”

  Lily nodded toward the matron. “Yes, ma’am.” When she turned back toward Sam, she cut directly to the point. “Does your request have anything to do with why you caused the seizure?”

  “I’m not sure but—” he sighed “—I think so, yes.”

  She scooted the letter basket under his bed. “All right then. I’ll do what I can, Sam.” She reached down and patted his shoulder. “Be good while I’m gone. Keep your promises, right?”

  “I gave you my word, Lily.”

  “Then I give mine. I’ll do my best to find your soldier. Even if you can’t explain who he is or why you might need to know.”

  “Thank you,” he replied.

  She scurried to the far end of the ward where Sister Newell waited, arms crossed and glaring daggers at her.

  Lily didn’t return to New Bedlam until nearly midnight. After her long day, the moonlit red brick walls of the hospital were a welcome sight. She climbed the stairs to the back entrance with weary, protesting legs. She was covered in a disgusting combination of blood, sweat and vomit.

  The latest disastrous Allied charge had resulted in a shocking number of casualties. Even worse, the men had been loaded onto the hospital trains in filthy conditions. More than half a dozen men were sure to be lost to sepsis. A simple thing like cleaner transport conditions could save so many lives. She was helpless to do a thing about it, but every time she lost a man due to a filthy wound, she felt culpable in his death.

  Feeling a mix of rage and weariness that went bone-deep, she longed to tuck her aching limbs into bed. She was halfway down the staff quarters hallway when she remembered her obligation to her captain.

  No. Not her captain. The captain.

  She slipped back into the kitchen and rummaged around in a drawer until she found the emergency candles. She grabbed one, lit it, and headed down the short hall which held the hospital’s offices.

  Since Matron Marshall kept the records in her office, at least Lily knew where to go. There was no light spilling from beneath the matron’s door, so Lily lifted the latch and stepped inside.

  These rooms were officially off limits to VADs. Lily had always supposed it was because the matron thought only RAMC nurses were capable of filing paperwork. The office was as tidy and regimented as Lily would have expected, save for one glaring exception—a large, potted lemon tree squatting in the corner by the window. It had been planted in a beautiful bright yellow ceramic pot and several small lamps were perched on a bookshelf beside the tree, their shades pointed in the plant’s direction.

  How surprising to find the stolid woman had a soft spot for…a tree.

  Lily moved behind the desk. Recent admittances hung on a clipboard on the wall. Lily removed it and ran her index finger along the column of names. In the previous two days, New Bedlam had admitted fifteen from the Albert area, all from the same botched gas attack. They’d been identified and there was not a Buchanan among them.

  Not wanting to tempt the fates when it came to the matron, Lily hurriedly blew out the candle and slid past the lemon tree and out of the office. At the end of the hall, instead of turning right and taking the few steps down the hall to her room, she turned to the left, toward the officers’ ward. He likely wouldn’t be awake, but it wouldn’t hurt to check.

  She walked through the silent room, the sleeping men outlined in gray and black framed by white sheets. Lily glanced around and was relieved to see that the night duty VAD was busy attending a patient at the far end of the room. Lily should have an easy time of it. She stepped softly down the aisle toward Sam.

  By the volume of his snores, Gordy was sleeping soundly. Her captain, however, was wide awake. She could see his eyes, watching as she approached his bed. Her breath caught in her throat and she swallowed nervously as she leaned down to him.

  “You should be sleeping,” she whispered.

  “So should you.” Even though he was in shadows, she could see his smile, dimples creasing his cheeks.

  “Did you get your injection tonight? The Phenobarbital should be making you sleepy.”

  “Just not tired, I guess,” was all he replied. After a pause, he met her eyes. “Are you all right, Lily?”

  “Me? Oh you mean…” She gestured toward her grime covered apron. “Long day.”

  Worry shone in his eyes. “You look quite exhausted.”

  She could only nod. Though she knew her duty required that she keep things professional with Sam, the truth was she missed that feeling of intimacy, of trust, that they used to share.

  She said, “I came by to tell you that I looked in the main office—to see if your soldier had been admitted here. Private Buchanan?”

  He looked up at her hopefully. She hated to crush the hope in his eyes. “I’m afraid he’s not.”

  His face fell.

  “I’ll have a word with some of the other fellows who were wounded near Albert tomorrow after rounds,” she said. “Perhaps they know of something.”

  “Thank you, Lily. It means more to me than you know.” He managed a weak smile and something warm fluttered in her chest. It was a wonderful and slightly terrifying sensation.

  She caught a flash of white from across the room. The night shift sister had entered and was conversing quietly with the VAD near the door.

  Leaning over, she whispered in his ear, “It wouldn’t do at all to be found here. I’m sure you understand. We’ll talk in the morning.”

  “Yes, in the morning then.” His voice was low and his breath warm in her ear. “Thank you, again. And, Lily, please try to get some rest.”

  She fought the urge to linger. Could Sam hear her heartbeat, pounding up through her chest? Could the nurse hear it from across the room? Her heart felt as though it may well thunder out, tearing through her ribcage like it was made of paper.

  She turned and left the ward before it could betray her.

  Chapter Fourteen

  Sam spread a dab of apricot jelly on his toast and took a bite. Even though he was forbidden such basics as going outdoors and reading his own mail, the ability to feed himself was a privilege he’d never again take for granted.

  “You’re looking pleased with yourself.” Gordy shot a grumpy glare in Sam’s direction.

  Sam shrugged and took another bite. “It’s a lovely day, Gordy. I’m dining on toast from my own hand. It’s smashing to no longer be fed like a child.”

  Gordy shook his head. “Well, it’s a good thing you’re not a bloody child where everything is concerned, I suppose.”

  Apart from the one incident in which he’d read Bad’
s letter, Gordy had been very brusque with Sam since the seizure incident. His distance was unnerving and Sam missed Gordy’s pleasant chatter and tall tales. Hell, he even missed hearing hospital gossip.

  “You needn’t be so put out, Gordy. I’m being a model patient now, in case you haven’t noticed.”

  “And you’ll keep following orders if you know what’s good for you.” Gordy pointed his utensil in Sam’s direction. As far as ultimatums delivered by blade point, a butter knife was not terribly threatening.

  Gordy lapsed into a rare moment of silence. When he spoke at last, his voice was serious and measured. “You should know, Bluebird was a right mess. Was all done up in tears over you.”

  “I’m sorry about that,” Sam said, and he meant it.

  “You need to have a care to yourself, Sam. I don’t know why you did what you did. Maybe it’s that you’re not quite right in the head and have gone dolally. I know this war can bollox a fellow up. But when you go into one of them seizures, it’s a frightful thing. You keep going to that place, one of these days you might not come back.”

  “I gave my word I’d follow orders,” Sam said, omitting the fact that his promise had only extended until the end of the week.

  “Well, make sure that you do. If you cause pain to Bluebird again, you’ll be answering to me.”

  Sam sighed. The lad was more than likely feeling protective of his countrywoman. Perhaps he even carried a torch for Lily. He would need to step cautiously here. “I don’t wish to cause Miss Curtis any distress. I assure you. And I have made every attempt to behave as a gentleman toward her.” His recent blanket bath notwithstanding.

  Gordy barked out a laugh. “You can’t be that thick, can you? Please tell me that at some point you knew something about women. That prior to Fritz putting a dent in your skull you weren’t so hopeless.”

  “What?” Sam sputtered. “You don’t want me to behave like a gentleman?”

  “Well, I do, yes. But that’s not the point.”