“Well, my father is a doctor too. He raises cattle on the side. I have a cousin, Ruth, my paternal uncle’s child, who was raised by my parents. She’s quite a bit older than I am and took on the role of big sister.” He laughed. “Let’s just say she’s been my protector all these years. In fact, she plans to visit in a month or so.”
“How lovely.” Therese looked forward to meeting her.
“She’ll come as a nurse. But mostly she wants to check on me to make sure I’m taking care of myself.”
“That’s nice of her.”
“I’m sure she’ll try and talk me into going home. But I’ll be leaving soon anyway, by Christmas at the latest.”
Therese felt a pang of sadness. Of course he wouldn’t stay for long. He was a Northerner. There was no reason for him to remain in Virginia forever, even if his ancestors had originally come from here, even if there were plenty of Talbot cousins around.
They continued chatting as they turned down Grace Street, and for the last few blocks talked about infection. The doctor said how hard it was to get the staff at the hospital to follow basic hygiene. Then he complained about the lack of supplies, not to mention the lack of knowledge regarding dressing wounds. “Medical science hasn’t kept up with the weaponry,” he explained. “Today’s guns are devastating. More soldiers are dying in this war than ever before.”
Therese couldn’t help but be touched by his concern for all soldiers.
When they reached the row house, she asked how much farther he had to walk.
“Oh, we passed the Corbetts’ street a long time ago.”
Flabbergasted, she asked, “Why did you walk all this way with me, then?”
He chuckled. “I needed to stretch my legs.” He stepped back. “More so, I needed the company. Thank you, Miss Jennings.”
Therese curtsied. “Thank you, Dr. Talbot,” she replied. “For everything.”
As she stepped into the house, Mr. Galloway stood in the hall. “Who walked you home?” he asked.
“Dr. Talbot,” she answered, slipping out of her cloak. “From the hospital.”
“Well, then. That seems harmless enough.”
Therese nodded. She wouldn’t tell him Dr. Talbot was a Yankee and a Quaker. What mattered was that he was a perfect gentleman—and a very interesting one besides.
Later, in bed, she thought about their conversation and the realizations she’d come to as they’d spoken. She had always believed that leaving the Union was a terrible mistake and that the issues coming between the North and the South were things that should’ve been negotiated and debated. Instead, secession had led to this bloody and devastating war, one that she could only hope the South would not win.
Were such thoughts treasonous? She couldn’t imagine that standing up for the freedoms guaranteed in the US Constitution could ever be a treasonous act, but then again, technically speaking, the very existence of the government of the Confederacy was treasonous. All she knew was that these issues should be settled in Washington and not on the battlefield. Reasonable men could find a solution if given enough time. But the war had to end first if that process was going to happen.
On Wednesday, when Therese and Polly reached the ward, Dr. Talbot greeted them, telling them that a photographer with the Daily Richmond Dispatch had spent the afternoon at the hospital, taking photographs of the soldiers, and now he wanted to get some of the staff.
Dr. Talbot met Therese’s gaze and then glanced toward Polly. “I’m hoping you two will accommodate him. The light is fading, so we need to hurry. He’s up in my office.”
As he led the way up the first flight of stairs, Polly asked if Matron Webb was in agreement.
“Dr. Moore’s orders. Matron Webb doesn’t have a say in it. The photographer has been taking images around the Richmond area—of soldiers in their camps, of civilians, of all sorts of people. The newspaper wants some pictures of patients and hospital staff too.”
They hurried up the remaining flights of stairs and into Dr. Talbot’s office. The place was sparsely furnished with a desk, a table, and a washstand. Papers and books were stacked on every surface, and a poster of a skeleton hung on one wall. Against the far wall, which was brick, a soldier leaned against his crutches. Ten feet from him stood a tall young man with a camera on a tripod. All of the gaslights were on and the shades were up, letting in the afternoon sun.
When the photographer finished with the soldier, he thanked the man and helped him out, and then Dr. Talbot introduced him to the ladies as Mr. Jay Lewis, explaining that a lot of the etchings in the newspapers were done from his images.
“I’ve seen you working,” Therese said with a smile. “Out on the bluff, at Harvie’s Woods. You were photographing the river.”
“Ah, yes. That I was.” He smiled broadly and shook her hand, thanking her for her work in the hospital. “I seem to recall you with several children in tow, stopping to watch for a while.”
“Thank you for your documentation of… events,” Polly said as they shook hands. “It’s important work.”
Therese agreed. Just as her family’s tintypes and daguerreotypes helped to preserve memories, the images of the war that the photographer took would help all of them remember these times—and be evidence for future generations of what had happened.
Mr. Lewis instructed Polly and Therese to stand against the brick wall. “Dr. Talbot,” he said, “would you join them?”
“You don’t want me in the photo. I’ll ruin it.”
“Nonsense,” Polly said, scooting over to make room.
“Come on,” Therese said, pleased to have her image taken with him.
He stepped between the two women and faced the camera. All three of them wore clean aprons, but the photographer glanced around and said, “We need some props.”
He then collected the empty basin and pitcher from the washstand and a medical book from Dr. Talbot’s desk. Once he had them positioned as he wanted, he instructed them not to smile or move a muscle until he said they could. It was harder than Therese had expected, but somehow they managed to stand like statues until he told them time was up.
When he’d finished, Polly asked if the photograph would be etched for the paper.
“Perhaps, but more likely we’ll keep it on file. If a reporter writes a story about a hospital in town, it may be used then.”
“May we have copies?” Dr. Talbot asked.
“I don’t see why not. This camera makes negative images, so copies can be generated.” Mr. Lewis went on to explain when and where they could be retrieved, and they all thanked him.
As they started down the stairs, Dr. Talbot whispered to Therese that he hoped they’d have time to talk later. Then he turned to Polly and invited her to examine a patient with him. It truly seemed the doctor was mentoring Polly in medicine. Therese admired him for it. It wasn’t every surgeon who would share his knowledge so freely with a woman, even if she was his cousin.
They all entered the east ward. As Therese checked on the soldiers, Polly and Dr. Talbot hovered over a patient near the windows, talking quietly between them.
“It appears the bullet entered the left lobe of the lung,” Polly said.
“Left?” The doctor laughed. “Clearly it’s the right.”
Polly groaned. “You’re correct. I’m so sorry.”
“Do better. That sort of mistake could be deadly.”
An hour later, Dr. Talbot again asked Polly to join him, this time to assist in surgery. Tears welled in Therese’s eyes when she realized it was the young soldier from North Carolina. His arm was to be amputated just above the elbow.
Two orderlies arrived to transport the soldier. Therese prayed for him as they carried him out, and for Dr. Talbot and Polly too. Her friend pushed up her sleeves, replaced her soiled apron with a fresh one, and then washed at the basin on the table.
Therese put her hands together to let Polly know she was praying. In response, her friend mouthed, “Thank you,” and hurried out the door.
Therese continued feeding a soldier who had lost both of his arms, forgetting to talk as she did. Finally, she noticed the fear and pain in his eyes, and she asked where he was from.
He swallowed and replied with a deep twang, “Alabama. I hope I’ll be back there soon.”
Therese nodded. “Do you live in the country?”
“No, a town—”
“Don’t encourage them to talk.” Matron Webb had slipped into the room. “Or you’ll never get everyone fed.”
Therese felt her face grow warm, even with the cool air blowing through the east ward.
“And who opened all the windows again?” Matron Webb headed toward the nearest one and closed it. “The soldiers will all catch colds. Dr. Talbot can’t seem to understand that a draft is bad for the health.”
“Fresh air is good for the injured and ill,” Therese said.
“Not if they end up with pneumonia.” Matron Webb closed another window. “He’s supposed to be well trained, but sometimes I wonder. Although it’s true that he’s good with a saw.”
Therese winced.
“But all this fresh air and the endless hand washing. The man doesn’t have any common sense.”
Therese continued to feed the soldier as Matron Webb closed every window in the ward. The wounded man didn’t say another word except for thanking her after he swallowed the last bite.
When their shift came to an end, Dr. Talbot thanked Therese for her efforts. “Will I see you on Sunday?”
“Yes, of course.”
“Perhaps you’d allow me to walk you home again.”
Her face grew warm, but she managed to say, “I’d like that.”
A few minutes later, as she and Polly hurried down the front steps into the crisp evening, her friend asked, “What’s going on between you and my cousin?”
Therese stepped around a pile of fallen leaves. “What do you mean?”
“He asked about you during the surgery, once the patient was out.”
“What did he ask?”
“How long I’d known you and your family.”
“Oh. Anything else?”
“No.” Polly nudged Therese. “But I can tell he’s smitten with you.”
“Don’t say that. He won’t be around much longer.” A pair of orange leaves fell from a tree ahead, dancing in circles as they swirled slowly to the ground. “I do enjoy watching him teach you, though, asking you to describe different wounds and help him in surgery. You’re amazing.”
Polly groaned. “No I’m not. And I’m not impressing him at all. Did you hear me say left lobe instead of right? I’m surprised he wants me anywhere near the patients.”
“Don’t be silly. It’s incredible how much you know. I love listening to the two of you talk.”
She glanced at Polly and saw an odd look cross her features for just a moment.
“What?” Therese asked.
“Nothing. Just… I hope no one else feels that way. I don’t like people listening to me.”
“Oh, right.” Therese grinned. “Says the girl who has not an ounce of self-consciousness in her body.”
She expected her friend to laugh, but instead Polly just changed the subject, updating her about the young soldier from North Carolina.
“It breaks my heart,” Polly said. “He’s such a trooper. He said he’ll do fine with just one arm. His family will take care of him.” She swiped at her eyes. “I hope we got all of the infection. I’m praying he’ll live, and we’ll be thankful for that, but his whole life has changed now.”
Therese nodded. No one was sacrificing more than the soldiers. Body and limb. Their very lives. She wondered if anyone in either government foresaw the horrible losses. A generation of young men—dying, maimed, or forever changed by war.
They continued on, crunching through the dried leaves. Therese knew that soon enough the rains would turn the streets to mud. Polly asked after the Galloway girls, and they began sharing endearing stories about their charges.
But the truth was that working in the hospital made the rest of life seem downright boring. On Saturday afternoon, Therese sat on the stoop, reading the morning paper about a Union attack near Petersburg on Thursday night. Remarkably, no one had been injured. Relieved, she folded the paper and raised her head to watch the girls play under the linden tree as a buggy stopped in front of the row house.
Therese stood and shaded her eyes. Someone jumped down from the buggy and came running toward her. It was Polly, breathless as she called out, “Michael just brought Warner to the hospital. He’s badly injured! Dr. Talbot said for you to come right now!”
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
Therese
Matron Webb stood in the middle of the foyer when Therese flew through the door of the hospital, with Polly right behind her. “He’s in surgery,” the woman told her. “Dr. Talbot said to wait in the hall.”
Polly grabbed Therese’s hand, and as she led her up the stairs, she said, “I’ll see if I can help.”
After washing her hands in a basin of water outside surgery, Polly eased the door open, and Therese peered into the room over her shoulder. She could see Warner’s body on the table, flanked by Michael on one side and Dr. Talbot on the other.
“May I help?” Polly asked from the doorway.
“Please.” Dr. Talbot turned toward them, a saw in his hand. “It’s his right leg. We may need you to administer more chloroform…”
Therese stepped back, overcome with a wave of nausea, relieved to find Matron Webb at her elbow. Polly continued on into the room, the door closing behind her as the matron took Therese’s arm and led her to a chair across the hall.
Therese stammered, “I-I wish I could help.”
“No, you don’t.” Matron Webb forced Therese to sit. “It’s hard enough when you’re taking care of strangers, but nearly impossible when it’s kin.”
“I nursed my father when he was dying.”
“This is different.” The matron stayed quiet after that, but she didn’t leave Therese’s side. She leaned up against the wall as Therese stayed put on the chair.
A scream erupted in the room, and then they heard muffled voices. Therese put her head in her hands and started praying fervently. For Warner. For Polly. For Dr. Talbot. For even Michael. And for Mother, once she received the news.
Warner was alive. She thanked God for that. One of the best surgeons available was caring for him. Michael, despite his moral shortcomings, had gotten Warner to the hospital. There was much to be grateful for.
A half hour later, the door opened and Polly appeared. Her apron was spotted with blood and her complexion pale.
Therese stood. “How is he?”
“Alive.” Tears welled in her eyes. “I’m going after orderlies to move him to the ward. The doctor will talk with you soon.” Matron Webb patted Therese’s shoulder and followed Polly down the hall.
Therese paced the hallway. She would need to get word to Mother immediately. Badan would bring her into Richmond, but where would she stay? The hotels were expensive, and she couldn’t impose on the Galloways. Perhaps Polly might have an idea.
She continued her pacing until the orderlies came. She held the door for them, once again taking a look inside. The room smelled strongly of blood, and soaked rags covered the table and floor. Dr. Talbot’s back was to her, but Michael glanced up and met Therese’s eyes, his expression full of sympathy. Again, she felt the threat of tears.
The men transferred Warner from the operating table to a litter and then carried him out of the room. Therese reached out and touched his forehead as they passed, brushing a lock of dark hair to the side. His eyes were closed, but his nearly white face, the parts not covered by a scraggly beard, was twisted in pain. She couldn’t bear to look where his right leg had been even though it was now covered with a sheet. Michael followed, stopping for a moment. “After you talk with the doctor, come find me. I can get word to your mother.”
“Thank you,” Therese whispered.
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A moment later Dr. Talbot was at her side. “I’m sorry.”
For a moment, Therese thought he didn’t believe Warner would live.
But then the doctor continued. “There was nothing I could do to save his leg. It was too badly mangled.”
“What about infection?”
“Michael put a tourniquet around his leg and brought him straight here instead of taking him to the field hospital, which was smart thinking.” Dr. Talbot sounded matter-of-fact, but she knew he was simply being professional. “I couldn’t detect any infection, but we’ll have to see what the next few days bring. He also has a wound that went through to his stomach. I did my best to stitch it up. That could be problematic too.”
Therese nodded. She knew enough to understand the odds of Warner recovering weren’t good. “Thank you for everything you’ve done. I’m going to go find Michael and figure out how to get word to my mother.”
“Does she have a place to stay here in Richmond?”
Therese shook her head.
“I can ask Mr. and Mrs. Corbett.”
“Pardon?”
“The Quaker couple I stay with. They’re very hospitable and have several extra rooms.”
Therese’s face grew warm with shame. “My mother will most likely be accompanied by one of her… slaves.” It was one thing to tell Dr. Talbot about the sins of her family and quite another to have him witness them firsthand.
“I see.” Dr. Talbot frowned. “I’ll check with the Corbetts and let you know what they say.”
Michael was kneeling beside Warner and sponging his face with a wet cloth when Therese stepped into the ward. Polly stood at the end of the cot. As Therese approached, Polly repositioned the sheet.
Warner stirred, and Michael said, “Therese is here.”
She knelt on the other side of the cot and reached for her brother’s hand. He had dirt under his fingernails, and blood streaked his arm. She took his hand and squeezed. “I’m here,” she said. “Everything’s going to be all right.”
Warner squeezed back, his eyelids fluttering.
“I gave him morphine,” Polly said, “so he might not fully wake up for a while.”
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