“Innocent, indeed. As innocent as a fox with chicken feathers in its mouth.”
Wind bucked the window, causing the curtains to sway. Rain pelted the glass and the thatch roof. The fire sizzled from drops slanting their way down the chimney.
“It’s raining something fierce. If you won’t let me go, then at least take my van. I can stay here and look after him. What sort of name is that, Dutch? Has he a brother named English? A sister named French? If you two have a child, you can name her Eire.”
The thought of having his child sent a shiver dancing across Nan’s skin. “He goes by ‘Dutch’ because he liked hot chocolate as a lad.”
“Then good thing his ma didn’t nickname him ‘Coco,’ like that godless woman shacking up with a Nazi general in Paris. I’ll never buy another dress from her as long as I live.”
“You have a Chanel dress?”
Tuda reached into her pocket. “No, but I won’t get one now, either. My purse is more suited to Limerick tweeds, anyway.”
Tuda pressed the van’s key into Nan’s palm. It felt warm against her skin.
“Get him to drink some water, but I think he’ll sleep.” Nan took her coat from the peg.
“Go on. I’ve nursed boys before. Watch for reverse. The gear’s a bit sticky.”
Like the situation. “Thanks. I’ll hurry.” She buttoned her raincoat. “I’ll be back soon.”
“I’ll pray for you.” Tuda stood in the door, the rain splashing on the threshold.
And Nan prayed also, all the way into the village.
CHAPTER 13
Amid the vicious downpour, Nan pulled up in front of River House, the doctor’s three-story Victorian at the border of town, where the river split in two directions. It was a place Nan knew well. Dr. Glennon had lived about three miles from River House, but he’d converted it into his office, with guest rooms upstairs. The first floor contained examination rooms and a surgery.
Glennon was the sort of Irishman who made every girl in the county swoon. There’d been tears when he wed a rich American girl, but no one could fault him. Kate Glennon was generous with her money. She even turned the town’s one-room library into a wonderful place for adults and children alike. Over her husband’s objections, a ruined chapel had become a lovely wedding venue.
Paul and Kelly Halpin had been married there. Nan had lost hope of ever having a wedding in the cozy chapel. Seemed the good Lord had other plans for her. A needling sensation circled around her brain. If circumstances were different, maybe she and Dutch . . .
Am I daft! With a shake of her head, Nan pushed the thought away.
When the war broke out, Glennon volunteered for the Royal Army Medical Corps, which caused a squabble with his wife. In the end, Kate packed up their three sons and returned to New York. The doctor was on surgical staff in a military hospital outside London. Both he and his wife vowed to return to Ireland once the war ended.
Juliet Mann was Kate Glennon’s niece, and with doctors in such short supply, she’d offered to fill in. Regardless of being “only” a woman and all such nonsense, everyone in town knew they were lucky to have her.
Nan parked the van and saw a warm light glowing in the windows. She also noticed Mrs. Norman—on that day working for the doctor instead of Father Albert—peering out at her through the parted lace curtains.
She hoped the nosy housekeeper wouldn’t think too much of her visit. It wouldn’t do to get her curiosity up.
The wind blew through Nan’s raincoat as she hurried up the steps to the porch, not that it provided much shelter. The cold air found a path up her pant legs. There was no escape from the damp tentacles of an Irish gale.
Mrs. Norman opened the door with a smile, revealing her overlapping front teeth. Gray hair escaped from the tight bun.
“Morning, Mrs. Norman.”
“Well, if it isn’t Nan O’Neil. Come on in out of the cold.”
“Thanks. Is Dr. Mann in?”
“She is. She just went into her office.”
“Can I see her?”
“Go down the hall, turn left, and knock on the door. If she answers, you’ll see her, so. ’Cause she’s not invisible.” She laughed at her own quip.
Nan obliged with a chuckle and moved on. She drew a deep breath before she knocked. “Come in,” she heard Dr. Mann respond.
“Have you a minute to consult about a patient?”
The doctor stood at a coatrack. She tugged a white lab coat on over her sky-blue dress with black trim that matched the row of buttons down the front. “Yeah, of course. Come in.”
Mrs. Norman stood behind Nan. “Shall I bring some tea?”
“Have you time, Nan?” The doctor went to her desk. She signaled for Nan to take the chair across from her.
“No, thank you, I don’t.” Nan sat on the leather chair and clutched the edge of the seat.
“Shut the door, Mrs. Norman,” Juliet said.
“All right then.” Mrs. Norman grinned, then closed the door behind her.
Juliet buttoned the lab coat. “I half expected to see you today. I know why you’re here.”
Nan’s mouth went dry. “Oh? And how are you knowing that?”
“Doesn’t take a genius. Listen, I think it’s a bum deal.”
“You do?” Nan heard her heart pounding.
“Sure I do. It’s not right.”
“You don’t think so?”
“Of course I don’t.” Juliet’s mouth was a lipstick line of disapproval.
Nan focused on her feet. Why in heaven’s name had Tuda thought Juliet would understand? Perhaps Nan needed to bolt before it was too late. Or had the doctor called the Garda already? She imagined Officer Halpin finding Tuda at the cottage, nursing the flyboy.
Nan pushed back into the chair. “Did you tell anyone?” The words came out choked.
“I’d never. Patient privilege, kid. It’s sacred. Didn’t they send you notice? They said they would.”
“Not yet.” Nan shook her head, confused. “The Garda or LDF?”
Dr. Mann squinted, lifted her chin. “Why would the Garda send word that Margot Dorian has asked me to deliver her baby, instead of you? Is it against the law in Ireland to change medical practices?”
Nan’s mouth gaped. Then she laughed. “Not a’tall. And did she, now?”
“I’m sorry. It’s not my style to poach patients.”
“You can have her with my blessings, but don’t count on getting paid. They don’t have two pence to rub together.”
“A charity case? Great. Just what I need. So if you’re not here about the stuck-up deadbeats in the stinky house, what can I do for you?”
“I have a sick patient, Dr. Mann—”
“Oh, good heavens, Juliet. We’re colleagues.”
“All right, Juliet. My patient is burning up with fever.”
“That’s too bad. How far along is she?”
“Ah . . . well . . . it’s not a she.”
“She’s a he?”
Nan glanced around the tidy room, its bookcases loaded with volumes, glass-front cabinets overflowing with medicine bottles, walls advertising the doctor’s many diplomas. “Definitely a he,” she answered.
“Okay, kid. Spill. Who is this mystery man?”
“I’d rather not say. Could I just give you the details and ask for a course of action?”
Juliet crossed her legs. “Can’t help you unless you tell me everything. Including who he is.”
The scarf around Nan’s neck suddenly felt as if it were strangling her. “I don’t want to tell you too much. You’d be implicated should things go wrong.”
Juliet studied her with dark, intense eyes. “If it’s not a woman who’s done something illegal to, say, end a pregnancy, I don’t see why you won’t tell me about the fellow.” She looked Nan squarely in the eyes. “If I didn’t know better, I’d say that flyboy who washed up wasn’t from the Wellington crash. You hiding someone?”
Nan’s chest tightened like a tourniqu
et.
Juliet slapped the desk. “I’ll take that as an affirmative. Don’t worry; on my mother’s grave, I won’t tell a soul, especially not that meathead Finn. What are the man’s symptoms?”
The tension gripping Nan’s neck released. She went into detail about the wound and what she’d done so far. Juliet listened and jotted down notes.
“I don’t know what else to try,” Nan pleaded. “Can you help him?”
“You did everything right, Nan. I wouldn’t have done anything differently. He fell in a bog, after all. Worst place in Ireland for an open cut.”
Nan’s heart sank. “Is it in the Lord’s hands now? Should I kneel in prayer at the church, begging the Lord for mercy?”
“Prayers? Why not, but I didn’t say he’s beyond help.” Juliet opened a desk drawer and took out a key. “I have something new, a very powerful drug.” She stood, crossed the room to a locked supply cabinet. Opening the glass door, she said, “This will do the trick. I’m not supposed to have it. Can you keep a secret?”
Nan nodded. “Of course. What is it?”
“More precious than gold. It’s called penicillin. Don’t ask how I came to have it, except to say there’s a research scientist who’s still grinning. I’ll get my bag.”
Nan shook her head. “You can’t come. You can’t afford to be involved. Please, just give me the medicine and instructions.”
Juliet rooted around the cabinet. “I can’t prescribe medication if I don’t examine him. Let’s get a move on. Time is of the essence.” She found a bottle and put it into her medical bag.
“Did I wait too long?” Nan asked. An agonizing thought picked at her: Was she to be condemned for not having been bolder?
“He’ll probably be fine. Infections come on quickly, but this drug is a downright miracle.” Juliet put a raincoat on over her lab coat. She topped off her outfit with a fedora. “Shall we?”
Nan arrived at the door first, opened it, and Mrs. Norman jumped back. The blood drained from Nan’s face. “Were you listening?” The entire town would know by noon.
Juliet pushed past Nan. “What did I tell you about listening at the door?” Her words came out low and angry.
The housekeeper backed away. “I didn’t hear a word. Not a word. But I’ll say a few prayers for him.”
Juliet closed the distance between the two of them. In a deadly tone, she said, “Breathe a word about this to anyone and it’ll be the last word you say. Capisce?”
The woman nodded, her double chin jiggling, fear in her eyes.
Juliet’s charming smile returned. “Mrs. Norman, go make a big pot of your chicken soup for the patient. Can you do that?”
“I can. Do you want the pleasure of killing the chicken yourself?”
Juliet sashayed into Nan’s bedroom like some American movie star and stood at the end of the bed. “Hey, good-looking. Hear you took a tumble out of a bomber and into the bog.”
Dutch tried to smile. “Like I said, all the women in Ireland are beautiful.”
Juliet’s laugh slid into a snort. “Something wrong with your hearing? Do I sound Irish?”
“No, but you look like an angel.”
Juliet groaned, rolling her eyes upward. “Is he always like that?” she asked Nan. “Full of bull?”
“He is,” Tuda answered. She sat on a chair on the other side of the bed, with Mr. Dee curled up on her lap. “He bit the Blarney stone on his way down to earth.”
“Dutch, this is Dr. Mann.” Nan laid a pile of clean towels on the nightstand.
Dutch’s gaze went from Tuda to Juliet. “A girl mechanic and now a girl doctor? This place is upside down.”
“Only if a female priest walks in,” Nan said.
“Get with the twentieth century, flyboy,” Juliet added. “We’re not gonna be barefoot and pregnant anymore.”
Nan felt a rush of heat to her cheeks. Americans were bold as brass. Imagine saying “pregnant” out loud in mixed company.
Juliet sat beside the bed. She raised the wet towel from his wound. “Wow, that’s a beaut. How’d this happen?”
“Gift from the Nazis. Flak.”
Juliet’s upper lip curled. “Vermin,” she uttered. “We can’t rest until we rid the world of the fascist scum.”
“Hear, hear.” Dutch winced as she investigated his wound. “Get me across the border so I can return to the fight.”
“Agreed,” the doctor said. “I’ll do whatever I can to help you.”
“You’ll help me get to Northern Ireland?”
“Yeah. Of course. I don’t want to see you interned, either. How you going to get there?”
“I’ve a car that Tuda’s fixing up,” Nan said, feeling useless.
“Sounds like a good plan. How about papers? And a map?”
“I’m just figuring out clothes at this point,” Nan said.
The doctor continued to raise issues Nan hadn’t even considered. She, in turn, searched her mind for how and where to find everything Dutch would need. Her muscles tightened into knots.
“Will you let me help?” Juliet asked Nan. “I can get all those things. Don’t ask how, but will you leave it to me?”
“Yes. Thank you.” Nan’s hands relaxed at her sides.
Juliet lifted Dutch’s arm for a closer look, making him flinch.
“Why won’t the Irish join the fight?” he asked. “What’s the matter with this country?”
“Nothing,” Juliet said. “Neutrality is a perfect solution for the Irish. They have no defenses. It’s the only way they can manage to keep their newly founded country intact. Quite brilliant, actually. Nan, hand me a clean towel.”
Nan put the towel into her grasp. “What do you think?”
Juliet laid Dutch’s arm on the cloth. “I think it’s a good thing you had the courage to call me, but we’ll get him back on his feet in no time.”
She glanced over her shoulder at Nan. “Nice job on the stitches. Couldn’t have done better myself. But they’ll have to come out. I’ll sanitize the wound.”
“Then stitches again?”
“Nope. Not after it’s been infected. Best to let it heal on its own. You’re gonna have a great scar there, kid.” She winked at Dutch. “A good story for the family back home.”
“Thanks.”
Juliet snapped her bag open and began taking out supplies.
“You really a doctor?” he asked.
“You really a flyboy?”
“I’ve got the shrapnel wounds to prove it. What do you have?”
“This.” She shook the thermometer, the glass gleaming in the lit oil lamp. “Let me stick this in your kisser. Will that be proof enough? Or do you want to roll over and I’ll do the alternative method.”
“Option one, Doc.” With the thermometer in his mouth, he looked more like a child than an officer with a long list of bombing kills.
Nan’s thoughts were racing. When the war was over, just or not, how would these young men face themselves in the mirror, knowing what they’d done? The lives they’d shattered.
“Tuda,” Nan said. “You can go. I think we have it under control.”
Her friend put the cat on the floor. She stood and stretched her long arms above her head. “I’m going to unload those auto parts and see what’s wanting with the Ford. I’ve got about two hours; then I best be off before Paddy starts drinking and giving away petrol without ration books again.”
Nan pulled her into a hug. “Thank you.” Tears burned in her eyes. “How will I ever repay you?”
“Funny. I thought I was repaying you.”
“You’re my best friend in the world, Tuda. You know I’d do anything for you.”
“I feel the same.”
“Ladies,” Juliet said, filling a syringe, “I hate to break up your moment, but I need boiled water. And empty bowls. Now.”
“Kettle’s on,” Nan said. “Soon as it whistles, I’ll get it.”
Dutch blinked at the doctor. “What’s that for?”
“What do you think?”
“Is that really necessary?”
“Afraid of needles?”
“No.” His frown betrayed his apprehension.
“Don’t worry, flyboy. This time you won’t feel a thing. You ever have morphine?”
“Can’t say that I have.”
“You’ll like it. It’ll take the edge off. Then we’ll get some penicillin on board, and you’ll be good to go before you know it. Nan, pull down his pants. I’m gonna give this big boy a shot right in his rump.”
Nan hesitated. “Pull down his pants?”
“I’m waiting.” Juliet’s impatience was clear. “Well?”
Nan’s fingers trembled. “Ah, Dutch. Have ya underwear under there?”
Juliet let out an exasperated breath. “Are you kidding me? Didn’t you bathe him? Stitch him up? Haven’t you seen the flyboy naked?”
A hot prickling sensation coursed through Nan. “Certainly not.”
“What kind of nurse are you?”
Tuda shoved Nan out of the way with her hip. “The kind that thinks about sin before medicine.” Tuda tugged down Dutch’s pajama pants. Nan stood behind her, sneaking a look over Tuda’s shoulder.
He had underpants on. The ones she’d washed the other day. Now she felt stupid. She’d seen him in his underwear before. Like a bathing suit, right?
Juliet flicked the needle with her finger. “On your side, big boy. Tuda, do the honors.”
He rolled onto his hip, and Tuda pulled down his drawers to expose his rump.
A gasp escaped Nan’s lips.
“I’ll say.” Juliet grinned. “He’s quite the young specimen.”
Nan’s entire body heated, a mix of embarrassment and desire.
The needle prick made Dutch wince.
“There. That’ll do the trick. Until the next time.”
Tuda rearranged his underwear. She started to pull up his pajama bottoms, but the doctor said, “Leave the pants off. This won’t be his last rodeo ride.”
“I’ll pull up the blanket, so.” Tuda flicked the covers up to his chest.
“All right, kid. Swallow this.” Juliet gave him three round pills along with a glass of water.
“Thanks.”
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