A Place in Your Heart

by Kathy Otten

  Gracie had saved a thick slice of gingerbread for Doctor Ellard and planned to offer it to him along with her apology when he returned to the ward that afternoon, but he never came through.

  That night, Robbie made sure he said goodbye. She hugged him, and though he blushed, he seemed grateful to have someone close by to wish him well. He sat and talked to his uncle Mark for a while. Then with a wave, he left the ward.

  That night after she enjoyed her own slice of gingerbread with her tea and a spoonful of honey, she prayed to the Virgin Mary to keep Robbie safe and that she’d see him again.

  ****

  The next morning Micah acted as her orderly. He was nice enough, but he didn’t have Robbie’s enthusiasm and quick wit. Her regular orderly, Tom Halleck, was supposed to be back from his leave next week, and hopefully things would return to a regular routine.

  She was stacking the dishes from breakfast when Micah approached her table.

  “Do you know how to do this?”

  Glancing up, she saw in his hand, the puzzle with the yoke and rings that she’d left beside Gilbert’s bed the night he passed away.

  “Sorry.” She shook her head. “I could not get it. Ye might ask Gleason, the night orderly. He discerned how to move the ring and how to do the pyramid puzzle too.”

  Micah shrugged. “I did, but he didn’t know how. Said they made him so mad he wanted to smash them.”

  She chuckled as Micah tossed the puzzle into the cupboard. The door at the end of the ward opened, and she heard Corporal Timon’s voice. Turning, she reached past Micah and grabbed the slice of gingerbread she’d wrapped in a handkerchief and saved for Doctor Ellard. She half expected him to refuse the peace offering and tell her he didn’t like gingerbread.

  Smiling to herself, she swung around and started down the aisle. She took several steps before she realized the doctor with Corporal Timon was too short…and too gray…and too…

  The doctor looked up, and their gazes met. She stared at Doctor Colfax in disbelief, the wrongness of his presence freezing her feet to the floor.

  Her stunned brain tried to rationalize what she saw, or who she didn’t see. Charles Ellard had conceived another jest. That’s what had happened; he wasn’t really gone. He must think scaring her with Doctor Colfax to be funny. For a moment she understood Robbie’s desperation to believe he hadn’t been wounded by a confederate minié ball.

  Then she noticed the smug curl of Doctor Colfax’s lips as they stretched toward his thick pork chop sideburns.

  Well, Gracie McBride would not be laughed at by the likes of him. Snapping her spine straight, she shoved the gingerbread into her skirt pocket, and marched down the aisle.

  “Where is Doctor Ellard?” she demanded before Doctor Colfax had a chance to say a word.

  He took so long responding, she almost expected him to rub his hands together with dastardly glee.

  “Captain Ellard has gone back to his regiment.”

  Gone? He left? But he hadn’t said a word. Something wasn’t right. She narrowed her gaze on Doctor Colfax. “Ye pompous old sawbones. Ye did this, telling yer lies and making yer reports.”

  “If those charges were dropped, Mrs. McBride, it was because you lied, not me.”

  She spun around and headed for the door, the click of her heels louder than usual in the suddenly quiet ward.

  ****

  “Ah, Mrs. McBride, you’re just the person I wanted to see.”

  Puzzled, because she had come to see him, she stepped into the doctor’s office.

  Rising, he gestured toward one of the chairs in front of his desk then waited until she sat before he too, lowered himself into his chair.

  “You’ve worked with Captain Ellard for over a month now, and I’m hoping you can help me with something.” He leaned to the left and rummaged through one of the drawers.

  Gracie leaned forward. “Doctor Ellard be the reason I’ve come to see ye.”

  “Now where did I put it?” He pulled open another drawer. “The captain handed it in last evening, where did it go?”

  “Doctor, I be wanting to know where Doctor Ellard—”

  “Here it is.” He straightened, raising the brown file folder then stretched across his desk and held it toward her. “I would appreciate if you could take a moment to read this for me.”

  Baffled, she accepted the folder and laid it open on her side of the wide desk. The sheets of paper looked like an inventory of sorts, maybe a requisition.

  She studied the hand writing, knowing she’d seen this illegible scrawl somewhere before.

  “Can you read it?” he asked eagerly.

  She stared thoughtfully at the top of the first sheet.

  “Acetate lead, alcohol, alcohol…extract of…bell…belladonna—”

  “Excellent. Try reading another page.”

  She flipped ahead and read aloud a few words here and there. “Artery…forceps. Bullet probes, bone wax…”

  Where had she seen this handwriting before? A capital ‘B’ followed by letters nearly impossible to decipher. “Bow saw, silver urinary staves…”

  And the ‘S,’ printed and capitalized like the ‘B’ while the rest of the word was scribbled in that rushed script, as if the writer was too impatient to take the time… Wait. Bragg, Simon, Private. The unknown patient who’d received the two bullet wounds. Gracie had assumed Gleason, the night orderly had been the one who sat up with Bragg and learned the private’s name while putting together the pyramid puzzle.

  Every muscle went still. The word forceps, blurred on the paper.

  Doctor Ellard.

  It was his handwriting which scrawled Private Bragg’s name across the top of the card. Doctor Ellard stayed up all night with that patient and never said a word, even as he’d lectured her for wanting to sit with Sergeant Baker. Doctor Ellard must be the mysterious puzzle solver, completing the pyramid while he sat beside Sergeant Baker as well as the yoke puzzle while he sat beside—

  Sweet Mary Jesus, Gilbert. Her heart warmed at the picture that formed in her mind of Charles Ellard sitting in the dark beside the boy, talking to him so he’d know he wasn’t alone, brushing the hair from his brow…

  Then before that image could fully form, anger washed it from her mind along with any tenderness she’d begun to feel toward the man.

  Why the conceited ass, he’d seen her crying. He knew it had broken her heart to think of Gilbert alone in the dark, dying and afraid. How could he have just stood there and not said a word?

  Did he think a show of compassion to be weakness? Hadn’t he realized that knowing he’d been with Gilbert for his last breath would have been meant far more to her than his arrogant kisses and ridiculous jokes? Her fingers tingled with the need to wrap around his throat.

  “Mrs. McBride, are you feeling all right?”

  Gracie blinked and looked up. “Yes, Doctor, I be fine.”

  He studied her thoughtfully for a moment as he cupped his chin and stroked his sideburns. “I only ask because you were smiling, and that was not the reaction I expected when I asked if you could recopy the whole requisition.”

  Heat flooded her cheeks. “Recopy this? To be sure, ’tis not a problem.” She squinted at the page. Did that say three, or five, or eight thousand blankets? “And if I have doubt about these numbers Doctor Ellard can clarify them for me.”

  “I’m afraid Captain Ellard is no longer here.”

  “Excuse me?”

  “Captain Ellard left this morning for Falmouth.”

  Falmouth? He was gone? Really gone? She thought he’d been assigned to another ward, which is why she’d come to see Doctor Bliss.

  “For how long?”

  “Fortu—er—unfortunately, it’s permanent.”

  “Can ye not get him back?”

  “I’m sorry, Mrs. McBride, but there is nothing I can do.” Doctor Bliss pressed his fingertips together and leaned back in his chair. “Captain Ellard was only assigned to this hospital temporarily while he rec
overed from his…er…illness. It was always intended he return to his regiment.”

  “But Doctor Ellard be a fine surgeon and needed here.”

  “There is no doubt that he is a good doctor, but a man with his skill is better served closer to the battle where he can care for the wounded as they come off the field, not when they arrive here days or weeks later.”

  “’Tis not right, to be giving the man no notice.”

  “He’s known for a good week now.”

  A week? He’d known he was leaving for a week and hadn’t said a word? Maybe she hadn’t mattered to him as much as she thought. Then why the kisses? Many people thought nurses no more than immoral, loose women. Is that why he’d kissed her? Had he been looking to her for a dalliance? Then good riddance.

  Why did she care anyway? Charles Ellard was no William McBride. Not with his notions of a woman’s delicate sensibilities.

  Doctor Bliss pulled open the top drawer of his desk and withdrew a folded piece of paper. “He asked me to give you this.”

  Gracie reached out and accepted the note. Was this his way of saying goodbye? She turned it over, tempted to break open the wax seal and read the contents. “Thank ye,” she said instead, then slipped it into her pocket.

  “I believe you have a good twenty minutes before the boat leaves.” Doctor Bliss gave a nod toward the mantel clock on a side table. “If you hurry, you might be able to catch him.”

  Realizing she’d been dismissed, she came to her feet. Doctor Bliss did the same.

  “You are an excellent nurse, Mrs. McBride. Make the best of it and try not to antagonize Doctor Colfax.”

  Too late for that, she thought then thanked Doctor Bliss and hurried back to her room.

  Should she go down to the steamboat landing? She picked up her shawl and swung it around her shoulders. The better question was why? Why did she want to go?

  Because wishing him well was the polite thing to do after all they’d shared the past month, and because she did still have that wrapped piece of gingerbread in her pocket. She glanced at the watch pinned to her bodice.

  Only fifteen minutes. She needn’t hurry, she told herself, though her feet were nearly running as she passed the long picket fence which separated the front of the hospital from the sidewalk. It wasn’t that important to catch him, but her pace only quickened.

  She gathered her skirt in her hands to keep from tripping as she hurried down Seventh Street and crossed the muddy intersection. Only six blocks to go.

  Horse hooves squished and sucked behind her.

  “Nurse McBride. Gracie.”

  A buggy rolled alongside. Her pace slowed as she turned toward the vehicle in the street.

  Major Carlton leaned out. “May we drive you somewhere?”

  The word ‘no,’ nearly crossed her lips. “Aye, I would be thankful for a ride.”

  Before the major’s brother, Sam, could rein the horse to a complete stop, she hiked up her skirt and scrambled into the buggy, nearly tumbling into the major’s lap.

  “So sorry.” She quickly apologized as she righted herself. “Did I hurt yer leg?”

  The major slid closer to his brother allowing her more room on the seat. “No, not at all. I’m fine. Where are you going?”

  She pointed straight ahead. “To the steamboat landing at the end o’ the wharf, but I don’t mean to take ye out of yer way. Drop me as close as ye can, ’twill be fine.”

  “We were on our way to the train station, but we’ve plenty of time.”

  “I didn’t know ye were still in Washington,” she said, tucking her skirt close. “I thought Sam had come to take ye home.”

  “He wanted to remain a few days to see the sights.”

  She nodded and mumbled something appropriate, wondering why Sam didn’t urge the horse to move faster. She’d been walking more quickly than this on the sidewalk. The thought crossed her mind to jump out, but the major would probably be mortified, and she’d likely end up twisting her ankle.

  She glanced at her watch. Sam must have felt her anxiety, for he clucked to the horse and it moved into a trot.

  A few minutes later he stopped the buggy at the first of three, side-by-side warehouses which ran parallel to the Potomac River. Again she chafed at the protocol which made her sit in the seat and wait for Sam to come around and assist her from the buggy.

  “Would you like us to wait for you?” Major Carlton asked.

  She smiled up at him. “I thank ye for yer help, but I do not want ye to be missing your train.”

  “As I said, we have time.”

  She glanced down the wharf, her eyes sorting through the forest of masts from three tall ships, docked at two of the piers which jutted into the river. Workers transferred wooden boxes from wagons onto the boats.

  A small steamboat chugged past on the river. The longest of the four piers which jutted into the water was crowded with soldiers and at the end sat a large, two story steamboat. “Excuse me, Major. I thank ye for the ride, but I must go.”

  A wave of guilt washed over her for being so abrupt, but the crowd of soldiers had begun making its way up the gangplank, and she didn’t have time for pleasantries.

  She waved goodbye to the major and his brother then moved forward, focused on finding Doctor Ellard. Barrels and crates stacked as high as her head were being loaded into wagons. A team of horses clattered up behind her, and she had to hurry off to the side so the wagon could pass.

  If Gracie had known what it meant to quit, she would have turned around and walked the ten blocks back to the hospital.

  Unable to see beyond the wall of men in front of her, Gracie elbowed her way to the warehouse closest to the river. Beside a pyramid of barrels, at the corner of the building, she climbed onto a wide flat cart like the ones used for moving luggage at the train station. Balancing herself with one hand on the clapboard wall, she scanned the heads of anyone wearing a uniform who stood taller than the rest.

  Gulls screeched overhead then swooped down to hop around the ground inspecting for bits of food, before taking flight once more.

  Young boys with eager expressions darted in and out among the crowd and the wagons. A row of ambulances stood off to the side. Horses stomped their hooves, their harnesses jangled as their heads bobbed with their efforts to escape the boredom of standing still.

  Soldiers shuffled toward the steamboat at the end of the crowded pier. In one hand they each carried a rifle. On their backs, bulging packs topped with a rolled blanket. These men were healthy, but thin, with deep lines of fatigue etched in their faces.

  The shrill blast of the steam whistle overwhelmed the sounds of the dockside bustle.

  What if Doctor Ellard had already boarded the boat? There were so many people…

  “’Scuse me, ma’am?”

  She glanced down. A young man wearing a black wool cap and jacket stood looking up at her. “You have to get off there. It ain’t safe.”

  “One moment, please.”

  She scanned the soldiers one last time. There, way down at the opposite end of the platform, she spotted him. She’d forgotten that aside from being tall, he had that invisible wall around him which kept him isolated from others and now parted the flow of boarding soldiers around him like a rock in a stream.

  “Doctor Ellard!” she called out hoping to be heard over the din. “Doctor Ellard!”

  Several men glanced her way then returned to their own business.

  “Ma’am, you have to get down.”

  At least she had a fix on his position.

  The dock worker extended his hand. She placed her fingers in his rough, calloused palm and stepped off the cart. “Thank ye,” she murmured absently, already making her way toward the end of the long pier.

  “Excuse me…pardon me…” She kept up the litany as she pressed her way through the congestion of stevedores and military men. “I’m sorry,” she added when she bumped into men or stepped on toes.

  She’d nearly reached the end of the pi
er when she spotted Doctor Ellard moving up the gangplank. The green sash of the medical corps tied around his waist distinguished his uniform from every other man in blue. “Doctor Ellard! Charles!”

  The whistle blew again. Without pause, he stepped onto the boat.

  Shoulders sagging, she heaved a defeated sigh. Oddly, her eyes began to sting.

  Tobacco smoke, she told herself, as she waved away the smelly cloud wafting from the cigar clamped between the teeth of the sergeant in front of her. She wasn’t crying. Pressing her index fingers against the inside corners of her eyes, she blotted away the moisture.

  She might as well carry on. Besides, she still had his slice of gingerbread in her pocket.

  “Excuse me,” she said again, weaving her way forward until she reached the end of the gangplank.

  “Halt, please, ma’am.”

  She stopped and turned. A clean-shaven, older man stood watching her. He wore sky-blue military pants and jacket. Three chevrons had been sewn on the sleeves of his upper arms and on his chest was pinned the badge of the Provost Guard.

  “Pass?”

  “’Tis someone on this boat I be needing to find.”

  “This is a military transport going south, ma’am. No civilian gets on without a pass from the Provost Marshal.”

  “’Twill only take me a minute or two.”

  “Not without a pass.” Tight furrows appeared above the bridge of his nose as the boredom in his face shifted to irritation.

  “Please, Sergeant.”

  He crossed his arms. His jaw thrust forward, his silent reply, firm and unyielding.

  The crowd of soldiers had quickly dwindled to a few stragglers. Gracie tried to dart around the guard.

  He immediately blocked her way.

  She tried a different tactic. “Then can ye go on board instead, and ask for Captain Ellard to come out here?”

  When he only glared at her, she stepped to the side of the gangplank and searched the faces of the soldiers standing along the rail of the deck. Behind them a row of windows framed the faces of more soldiers, and above those windows were the windows of an upper deck.

  “Doctor Ellard,” she called. “Does anyone know Doctor Ellard?” In response all she received from the soldiers were enthusiastic waves and several men claiming to be Doctor Ellard.