The Thorn Healer

by Pepper D. Basham

  “Granny, assist Jess in clearing the wound site as much as possible so her field of vision stays clear.”

  They continued in silence.

  August entered the house with Sylvie in his arms and marched up the steps without stopping. Anna approached the table, taking in Cliff’s body, blood-soaked and still. “Oh, Cliff,” she gasped and then steadied her gaze on them. “How may I help?”

  Grandpa began explaining the procedure while Jessica drew the bullet from the wound, whispering a quick prayer of gratitude for the speed of removal. She’d honed that particular talent during her time at the Front, proving apt in quick bullet extraction with the least damage.

  August reentered the room, rolling up his sleeves as he approached. “What must I do?”

  “Once Jessica finishes Cliff’s sutures, we will move him to the rolling cot Granny’s gone to fetch from the back room.” Grandpa moved from one task to another, preparing for the procedure. “You’ll lay on the table here. If all goes as planned, we should be able to assist you to a bed within a few hours. Cliff will need to remain stationary for as long as possible.”

  “The procedure is different than drawing blood for the vials,” Jessica added, looking up from her work. “Longer. More dangerous. You’ll be placed under anesthesia.”

  August set about helping Granny and Anna prepare the cot to Grandpa’s specifications as Jess finalized the stitching. With careful movements, they all worked to transfer Cliff to the cot and Anna packed a quilt around his body to ward of the chill of shock. His face held an ashen color, the kind to place Jess’ nerves on edge with pinpricks of uncertainty. She’d seen worse. Helped save worse. But watching her strong, vibrant cousin lying motionless and frail resurrected visions of her brother’s injuries, of her nursing friend who died in Jess’ arms after an explosion in their Clearing Station. Not another, Lord, please.

  “We’re ready,” Grandpa said.

  Jess approached August. “Are you certain about this?”

  Those eyes, the unfathomable depths of emotion, searched her face. “Yes.”

  “A direct blood transfusion brings a risk of infection. You understand the choice you’re making?”

  The firm press of his lips softened into the gentlest smile. “Yes, Mause, but he is my friend. And he is your family. There is no choice.”

  Everything fell away except this beautiful man before her, his strength, and his breathtaking nobility. She rocked up on her tiptoes and pressed her lips to his, staking her claim for everyone to witness. Love? Yes.

  His lips clung to hers, prolonging the embrace for a second longer, and then, as quickly, they drew apart.

  She kept her gaze on his but said to Grandpa. “We’re ready.”

  Anna and Granny placed a clean cloth over the table and added a pillow for comfort.

  “Lie down, August.” Her grandfather gestured toward the table and handed Jessica two masks with various tubing and tanks. Ether and chloroform. Had nitrous oxide-oxygen made it to her remote little town yet? David used it at his hospital, but the apparatus was a newly developed sort. She locked it in her mind to save for the Connell anesthetic apparatus for Grandfather’s future use. A worthwhile purchase.

  “I’ll administer the morphine in preparation, but we can’t wait the half-hour for full effect. We haven’t the time.”

  Jess nodded and prepared the masks and canisters for work, replacing this aching agitation with the cold ream of logic.

  “Why do you give them morphine?” Anna asked, her voice shaking with a slight tremor.

  She’d tightened her expression, pale-faced but strong. Jess offered a comforting smile. “We only administer a small dose. It helps the men rest and reduces the amount of secretions in their body, particularly their mouths.” She searched for a clearer explanation to clarify her confusion. “To keep them from coughing.” Among other things, but those particulars need not be voiced.

  “And that?” Anna pointed to the paraphernalia in Jess hands. “Does it help with this transfusion?”

  “In a way.” Jess moved quickly over the task of attaching the chloroform mask and then the one for the ether canister. “It relaxes the body for the procedure and helps take away some of the sting.”

  Anna drew in a deep breath, her gaze bouncing from Cliff to August. “And he will be well?”

  Jess swallowed. August was strong and healthy. So was Cliff. Both these were truths to bind her worries with optimism. God, please keep them safe. “There are always risks, Anna, but August should be fine.” Her gaze dropped to her cousin. “For Cliff, only time and prayer will tell.”

  Jess pivoted from the sideboard, the first mask in hand. Her gaze glided over the man lying patiently before her, the unlikely suitor who’d capture her entire heart.

  “I’m going to place this first mask above your nose and I want you to breathe normally, in and out.”

  “I have a hard time breathing normally when you are so near.”

  His gentle humor eased over her anxiety like the caress of his hand over hers, guiding the mask forward.

  She lowered the mask into place, her gaze locking with his. Oh, the depths of those eyes, the tenderness burrowing deep beneath her cautious disposition and releasing a responsive reply. She leaned close and pressed a kiss to his forehead and then, as his eyelids began to droop, she slipped her mouth near his ear.

  “I love you, August Reinhold.”

  ***

  Nausea woke August. He kept his body still in an attempt to keep the nausea from swelling into bile. His right arm ached and his thoughts puttered through a dreamy fog, sloshing to the surface for clarity. What happened to him?

  He peeled open his thick eyelids. The nausea intensified so he closed them again until the feeling abated, and then he made another attempt. Dim light fingered through the room from one lantern, casting tall shadows on the pale walls.

  His mind began to catch up with his surroundings. Cliff... shot... Dr. Carter... Jessica whispering into his muddled dream. A general heaviness weighed down his body, pressing him into the hard table. He tilted his head at a slow angle to keep the nausea calm, but the swell was worth the view.

  Jessica sat in one of the high-back dining chairs in angelic sleep, her head angled to the right. Golden hair flowed from her loosened braid, billowing in erratic locks around her beautiful face. To see this sight each morning, nestled within his embrace? The thought sent the nausea to the very back of his mind, replaced by much more inviting distractions. It was her fault, really. She shouldn’t have kissed him so ardently if she sought to keep his imagination under gentlemanly influence.

  She stirred, waking as the legendary Sleeping Beauty. If only he’d had opportunity to kiss her awake. His grin perched. Ah, well, there was time for such opportunities. Her gaze, in all its dazzling emerald, fell upon him with a sleepy smile, encouraging his less than gentlemanly thoughts to resurrect with zeal.

  “You’re a beautiful mause.”

  Her smile spread into a quiet laugh and she stood to lean over him, her hair spilling toward him, begging for a touch. “I’ll take that to mean you feel well enough?”

  “I would feel better if you kissed me.”

  Even the dim lamplight failed to shadow the deepening color of her cheeks, but the sparkle in her eyes poured promise. She pushed back a handful of her golden hair and brought her lips to his, reviving his muscles with a fiery sting.

  Her warm mouth blended through his blurry world, igniting his pulse and hands into motion. He forced one arm awake and slid his fingers across her cheek to bury into her loosened hair, cupping the base of her neck. Her lips parted in a gasp. He took advantage of the moment, moving the kiss into more intimate territory and exploring the richness in her response.

  She drew back, her breath as shallow as his. “How was that?” Her question breathed out on raspy air, intimate and close.

  He took his time, allowing his gaze to roam over her face framed by scattered gold. “Exceptional.”

>   Her tantalizing lips slanted. “Well enough to play an early game of badminton?”

  “You will have to spend many more kisses to reach that outcome, Mause, but I am not averse to it.”

  She swept a palm over his forehead, her gaze glossy. “I think your current weakness might be a providential device to secure our virtue, my sweet alien.” One golden brow rose. “I can assure you, since your kiss, my mind’s remained fully occupied with thoughts I’d never entertained... before you.”

  “May it be the last first kiss we ever experience?”

  She slid him a sly smile, refusing to indulge in too much romantic talk. What she’d given him already exceeded his expectations.

  His mind cleared by degrees and the nausea subsided to a dull hint. “What of Cliff?”

  She covered August’s hand with her own. “He’s resting. Time will tell, but he’s young and strong, both truths your sister seems to appreciate.”

  Jess added another pillow to his collection, elevating him to an almost sitting position. The nausea increased for a moment until he settled into the change. “Your family trait is stubbornness. My family trait is perseverance, yes?”

  “Two sides of the same coin, I’d think.”

  He caught her face as she bent close to tuck the blanket around him. “Then your cousin and I are in very good hands.”

  She kept her gaze fastened on his. A sudden sheen of tears glimmered across her evergreen eyes. “I have too many games of badminton planned to let you die.”

  He rolled her a look of mock annoyance and shifted to become more comfortable on the hard table. “Competition over compassion, Miss Ross?”

  “Yes.” She bent close, adjusting the pillows as he stilled beneath her touch. “It is a much better distraction over the alternative, my dear Mr. Reinhold.”

  “And what is that?” He groaned from a sudden rush of weakness and fell back against the pillows.

  “Being afraid you might not wake up.”

  Chapter Twenty Four

  Grandpa left for the camp directly after breakfast with a secondary purpose of collecting Amy to assist with overnight care for the next two days. The first forty-eight hours remained crucial—not for August, who walked with assistance to the guest bedroom an hour after waking, but for Cliff. He’d not awakened yet, the ether and blood loss taking its toll with a heavier hand.

  Jude and Sylvie kept each other company through the morning chores, taking the answers Jess gave them as to the reason for Cliff’s injuries as only children can do. Simply, with a childlike trust that sent her into introspection. There was something to its beautiful simplicity. Hadn’t Jesus even mentioned having faith as a child?

  She’d never pondered on the meaning, but this new gift of motherhood changed her perspective many things. She loved Jude and Faith. With each passing day, this intricate bond deepened in her soul, weaving through her decisions and thoughts as naturally as breathing. Where had she stored this reserve protection and love before she knew them? Before she met August?

  Her hand swept over his letter in her pocket. Nothing awakened her heart like his touch and his words. His love humbled and strengthened her. Somehow, it called her to simply trust, to believe, as the children so easily did.

  August’s love mirrored God’s. Her inexpressible connection to these children reflected God’s love for her. Air left her lungs in a whoosh as her shoulder collapsed forward as she pulled Faith nearer. A verse from her past surfaced.

  You may have power to grasp how wide and long and high and deep is the love of Christ, and to know this love that surpasses knowledge – that you may be filled to the measure of the fullness of God.

  How wide and long? How high and deep? If her love for these children or August seemed impossible to fit into words, how much greater did God love her?

  She lowered a kiss to Faith’s head and her blue eyes twinkled into a smile. Jess’ heart squeezed at the sweetness. God loved her indescribably more? Even with the past of what happened to David or Cliff or herself? How could love and sorrow meet like this? How could war and devastation reconcile with this immense love?

  Lord, help me trust you more.

  August’s face materialized in her mind, his eyes staring at her as she placed the chlorine mask over his handsome face. She’d sliced into his arms, leaving him sore, weakening his body, to provide hope for Cliff’s life.

  Her vision blurred as Faith’s little fingers chased a loose strand of Jessica’s hair.

  All things work together for the good who love him and are called according to his purpose.

  In this massive puzzle of life, she saw one piece and God held the entire finished portrait—the dark and light pieces, the sharp edged and the smooth. Each fitted together, relying on one other to complete his work of art. The plan.

  Faith, Jude, August, David, Catherine... all of them, each detail, each wound, each joy, were all strategically placed to design something beautiful in His plans. Something for His glory and for her ultimate good. How? Her mind fought to understand but lacked the ability.

  Faith.

  Even the deathbed name Eliza bestowed on her precious daughter rose to touch Jessica’s heart three months later. She fitted the cooing bundle in the crook of her arm and crossed the hallway, careful to keep her steps quiet as she approached August’s door. She’d changed Cliff’s bandages before moving upstairs to catch a few hours of sleep before Faith woke for feeding. And I am holding him, child.

  She sighed out the twisted anxiety in her stomach and pushed the bedroom door open enough to peer inside. His smile greeted her.

  “Ah, the very woman who held my thoughts.” He pushed himself to sit taller. “And you’ve brought an added beauty with you?”

  Oh, that man was too handsome for either of their good, but particularly hers. His shirt hung open to the third button, drawing her rebellious mind to ponder the feel of his chest. Scorching heat planted in each cheek and she lifted her eyes back to his, her smile tight. He’d caught her wayward attention, and his grin inched up on one side with enough mischief to send the heat in her cheeks coursing down through the rest of her body. Heaven help her.

  “I have another argument for our speedy matrimony.”

  She pushed down a burning swallow and drew her wavering gaze back to his. At one point in her life, she’d boasted something akin to self-control, but since kissing August... that virtue appeared woefully absent.

  “You’re establishing quite the list, aren’t you?”

  He reached out for Faith and Jess relinquished her hold. “A logical argument for each of the rejections you’re creating in your head.”

  She lifted her chin, feigning complete ignorance. “The fact that you’re housed behind a fence on the way to being deported to a Georgian prison camp isn’t enough?”

  “Nein.” He smiled down at Faith and her toothless grin responded with matching excitement. “Faith will agree with me. She needs a father.”

  He patted the bed at his side, but she sat on the edge at a little more distance. “I think I could raise her own my own.”

  His wounded look brought her an inch closer. “I would take care of you all. You know this, Mause.”

  She saw him then, as a father and husband. A gentle caregiver to little Faith. A noble example to Jude. And to her? Air thickened around her. Oh, her imagination conjured up all sorts of ways she wanted him to take care of her, and God was probably frowning at each and every one of them.

  She cleared her throat and attempted to empty out her embarrassing daydreams. “I do.”

  His expression turned perfectly rascally. “You say those words very well.”

  She leaned closer, his eyes darkening into a delicious smolder. “I do?”

  “I have many other reasons to marry you, Mause. Reasons I will share after you marry me for they are better shown than spoken.”

  Her bottom lip loosed and her throat released a tiny squeak of response.

  “I have left your mutter speechle
ss, little Spatz?” He pressed a kiss to Faith’s nose. “Do you think she needs a kiss too?”

  Her body responded to the invitation in his eyes, drawing closer of its own accord, meeting him inch to inch, move to move... touch to touch. His lips cooled hers, sliding over them in slow perusal. She closed her eyes, reveling in the grand mixture of familiarity and newness in his taste and his caress.

  Faith’s sweet coo brought their gentle embrace to a somewhat satisfied end. She sat back, returning her hands to her lap to nudge the crease of paper in her pocket.

  “Oh, yes, I... I have something for you.”

  “I thought you already gave it to me?”

  His faux innocent expression, with a touch of imp, released her grin again. “Well, then, I have another something for you, but I must warn you.” She dug into her pocket, his letter to her mixed together with one she’d written. “I am better with facts and arguments, so keep that in mind.”

  He looked down at the proffered letter and unwound his finger from Faith’s grasp. “You should read it to me.”

  “What?”

  “My head is still foggy from the anesthesia. I think you should read it to me.”

  She pressed the letter into his hand. “No. You can read it when your head clears.”

  He lowered his lashes, nearly undoing her with the magnetizing appeal of his plea. “I will give you another kiss.”

  “You will give me another kiss no matter whether I read it or not,” she fired back.

  “You are right. I will.” He nodded, placing the letter back in her palm. “But it will make Faith happy if you read it to me, for I will be able to keep holding her while you read.”

  Jess rolled her eyes at his ridiculous logic and attempted to ignore the embarrassing fire lighting in her face. Reading it to him? Exposing her heart aloud to the man? It had been difficult enough to place the words onto paper.

  She scowled at him as she opened the note, but the fury bounced off his smile without leaving a mark. In fact, his grin only widened. Insufferable man. Adorably insufferable man.

  “Well, I’ll warn you now that I’m no writer. I’m horrible at expressing myself in words.” She looked up at him. “Your letter? It... it was like poetry. Mine? Mine won’t be.”