by Julie Rowe
Jude stared at him. “I’ve met your grandfather. He’s very...unconventional.”
He laughed and nodded his agreement. “Who are you?”
“I’m Judith Goddard. My father is a colonel in the British Expeditionary force.”
Bert touched his arm. “Thank you.”
An increase in the number of buildings told her they’d entered the town. People were out and about, and there was a large dock ahead. As their boat got closer, several men came out to meet them.
“Good morning. How can I help you?” One tossed the old man a rope and they were once again docked.
Words Jude was hoping to hear. “I’ve got two wounded men, one with a possible infection. Can you give me directions to the nearest doctor?”
“The closest one is on the other side of town. There’s a midwife just up the street, though.”
“That’ll do. Can you help me get them there?”
“I’ll get my horse and cart,” one said.
Michael and Bert were loaded into the cart and they were on their way in short order. The man led them to a house a few streets away from the dock.
A woman opened the door. “What’s this?”
“I have two injured British soldiers with me. One has a fever, the other broken bones.”
“I’m only a midwife.”
“I’m a nurse, I know what to do.”
The woman nodded and between the three of them, they got Michael and Bert into the house.
“My husband was shot in the chest last night. The bullet lodged in a rib and I was able to remove it, but he’s developed a fever.” She put her hand on Michael’s forehead. “He feels even hotter now.”
The kitchen looked like any other, but the adjacent room was small and clean with a narrow bed. She directed the men to lay Michael down there.
The midwife helped her remove Michael’s clothing down to his under clothes. “Will you need hot water?”
“Yes, thank you.” Jude smiled at her. “Also, several bandages and a bottle of brandy.”
“It’s always the good stuff that’s the first to go.”
The two women washed their hands then began removing bandages. Both leaned close to smell for gangrene in the wound.
“It smells clean,” the midwife said as she removed the last bandage.
Blood oozed from Michael’s wound, but not enough to obstruct their view of the tissue in and around the wound.
“The edges seem clean,” Jude said. “I don’t see any swelling or redness.”
“Agreed.” The midwife probed the wound with a retractor. “No excessive bleeding either.” She frowned. “Maybe the fever isn’t linked to the wound. Perhaps it’s due to an influenza or some other cause.”
“So we treat the symptoms. Fluids, cool water to keep his temperature down and willow bark tea?”
The midwife nodded. “I have a supply of willow bark here.” She smiled and grasped Jude’s hand. “He’ll pull through.”
“I lost him once. I can’t lose him a second time.”
“I understand.”
No, she didn’t. Jude wasn’t just talking about his life, she was talking about having the man in her life. He’d refused her marriage proposal because of duty. Did that mean he would have accepted if her father hadn’t ordered him to say no? He’d spoken about his feelings, but never used the word love.
“I’m afraid,” she whispered.
“Of what?” the midwife asked.
“That he might choose to let...go.”
“If it’s his time, there’s nothing you or I or anyone can do.”
“I know, but it hurts so much.” The rest came out in a rushed whisper. “There are moments when I wish I’d never met him.”
* * *
Michael floated on an ocean of pain. The hot water surrounding him burned and boiled. Voices sailed past and he tried to follow them, find where they came from, but all was dark. The only constant was the heat and pain.
A woman called out to him and he tried to answer, but he couldn’t find her, see her or even hear what words she spoke. The sound of her voice drew him though, kept him from sleeping and letting the ocean take him to an eternal place where there was no pain.
She continued to call him, cajole him to wake up and drink water. Didn’t she know he was drowning in it?
Still, he couldn’t refuse that angel’s voice. He could feel her hands on him now. Soft, soft hands. So much care and love in those hands. Something stroked his lower lip. He opened his mouth and swallowed cool liquid.
A burn spread across his chest like a brand. He would have fought, but the angel asked him not to. Asked him to lie quiet and still. Asked him to stay and not leave her. He tried to answer, to swear he’d do whatever she asked, but his tongue was too heavy. It took all his strength just to swallow.
His trust was rewarded when she stopped the burning, apologising for causing him pain, but assuring him that it was necessary to save his life.
“You must live,” she whispered in his ear, her voice and scent combining to form a siren’s song to his senses. “Don’t leave me.”
“I would follow you into hell, my angel.” His sounded harsh and rough to his ears. He opened his eyes and saw her hovering above him. Her beauty was that of a garden—rich, deep and full of life. “So beautiful.” He lifted a trembling hand and cupped her cheek. “So very beautiful.”
Tears fell from her eyes to roll down her face.
“Don’t cry. I won’t disappoint you. I will get well.”
“I believe you.” She turned and kissed his palm. Her lips were even softer than her hands. They made injured parts of him burn for something other than water.
“If I could have one wish come true, I’d wish for you to kiss my body, to put your lips on my skin and explore as much as you’d like. That would be heaven for me.”
“Heaven must wait,” she said, kissing his palm again. “I have other tasks for you.”
“Whatever you desire, my angel, I will do.”
More tears fell, enough to wet the skin of his hand. “Sleep now. Rest and gather your strength.”
He closed his eyes and let the darkness take him.
* * *
“Ma’am, you should sleep.”
Jude glanced over her shoulder at Bert, uncertain of how to answer. “I’m not sure I can.”
“Why? I thought you said his temperature is down, his wound is healing and he’s sleeping peacefully now.”
“He thinks I’m an angel.”
“He was delirious with fever.”
“He thinks my position too high and himself unworthy of me.”
“He’s a soldier, you’re a respectable lady. He’s probably right.”
“You’re not helping.”
“He seems like an honourable man who would only do the honourable thing. How is that wrong?”
“Really? You haven’t heard the whole story. I foolishly professed my love for him. He said he was unworthy of me, told me duty was his only mistress and wife.” She glanced down. Her hands were shaking. “That was two years ago. Then he shows up at my hospital telling me that I’m in danger and insisting I leave with him. I was in a position to learn things about German military plans. Secret plans. That’s gone now.”
“Were you in danger?”
“Of course. Always. But in this, I was given no choice in the matter. I had other options. Other hospitals I could have moved to. I could have continued helping in that capacity, but he wouldn’t allow it.” She looked at Bert and wondered if he understood. “He doesn’t trust me. He never has.”
“Do you trust him?”
Everything inside Jude came to a stop.
Did she?
She respected Michael’s intelligence, ingenuity and his unswerving devotion to his duty. She admired his quick thinking, creativity and willingness to do whatever it took to accomplish his goal. She loved his laugh and the expression in his eyes when she did or said something clever. She adored his kisses and
touch.
Lying to herself would do her no good. She loved him more now that she had two years ago.
“Yes, but I also need to know that he trusts me.”
Bert tilted his head to one side. “What will you do?”
“What he ordered me to do—get my information to the British War Office, or better yet, my father. It will be a test for both of us.”
Bert blinked. “How so?”
“I’m doing the honourable thing and letting him go. I will not trap him into marriage. If he truly wants me—if he truly loves me—he’s going to have to make the decision to come after me.”
Chapter Thirteen
Michael woke to stiff muscles, a sore chest and a rampaging thirst. “Water.” It came out as barely a croak.
The room was a bit fuzzy, but he recognised a hand holding a cup near his face. With help he drank the whole thing down.
“Thank you, Jude.”
“It’s Bert, but you’re welcome just the same.”
He focused his eyes on the face above him. “I’m sorry. I could have sworn I heard her voice.”
“You did, earlier. You had quite the fever. She didn’t leave your side for almost a full day.”
He grunted. He wasn’t surprised. When she devoted herself to a task, she gave it her all. Knowing she chose to care for him with that devotion removed some of the weight that had sat on his soul for two years.
“Here’s more water. She said you lost a lot of blood and need to drink as much as possible.”
He sipped at the cup.
“It’s good to have you back with us, sir,” Bert said with an energy Michael wished he felt.
“A little worse for wear, but still whole. How long have I been here? Wherever here is.”
“Maastricht, in the Netherlands, sir. You’ve been here for two days.”
“Two days? Good God.” Michael damn near jumped out of bed. “Jude? Did she tell you about Germany’s new weapon? Someone has to make a report about it. Immediately.”
“Yes, sir. She gave me a detailed report, which was forwarded on with all urgency.”
He relaxed, allowed himself to lie down again. “Excellent.”
“She was exceptionally thorough.”
“That doesn’t surprise me. Judith Goddard is a woman with many remarkable skills.”
“Indeed.”
“When can I speak to her?” He needed to see her, hear her, touch her. Her presence would do more to lessen the pain of his wounds than any medicine.
Bert shook his head. “She’s not here, sir. She left for France early this morning.”
“France? Why on Earth would she go there?”
“At her father’s invitation to advise our military about the poison gas attack. In case they have questions or to discuss any stop-gap measures to combat the gas.”
“Like what?”
“It’s going to depend on what they have on hand. That’s the problem. No one seems to have an answer. So she told them she’d come and see for herself.”
Michael wanted to growl and yell. He wanted to leave for France, find her and take her to England. Forcibly if he had to. He wanted to yell at her, tell her how stupid and risky it was to go anywhere near the fighting. Anywhere near where that gas might be released.
He wanted her in his arms, so he knew with certainty—absolute certainty—that she was safe.
“She left you a letter.” Bert handed it to him. “She didn’t want you to worry.”
“Worry doesn’t begin to describe it.” He tore open the letter and began to read. Only some of it sunk in.
Dear Michael,
Your fever has broken and your wound is healing well, so I felt it acceptable to leave you in Bert’s capable hands. I imagine you don’t agree. You’d rather drag me back to England and are horrified to discover I’m anywhere near the front lines in France.
Just know that I love you. I have never stopped loving you. I will love you until death takes me, but I will not force you into marriage. Duty is not enough. Please let me go.
All my love,
Jude
At the end of the letter was a list of supplies she thought might help combat or treat the gas.
“She’s with her father,” Michael said, reading the letter again.
“Yes, sir,” Bert said. “What next?”
Jude was a woman worth fighting and dying for. He’d always known that. Now he knew she was worth living for as well. He’d been the biggest of fools. Not just once, but twice.
“Return to England.” He held the letter up. “We have a new mission.”
“We?”
Michael looked at his new protégé. “I did warn you that I was going to recruit you. Hop to it, lad, and get me some clean clothes.”
The grin on Bert’s face mirrored his own. “Yes, sir.”
* * *
Jude found herself hanging onto her temper by the barest thread. She had explained the problem over and over, yet the military men before her seemed content to argue and debate about the effects of the poison gas. They saw no need to spend money on protection from a weapon they believed would do no more than make the eyes water and a man cough.
She explained the difference between the gas the French used the previous year in an attempt to stop or slow down the advance of the German army and the gas the Germans intended to use in the next day or two.
All they were waiting for were favourable winds.
“Sirs, let me say again, this gas doesn’t just irritate the eyes and nose. If you breathe it in, it will destroy your lungs. If it gets into your eyes, it will liquefy them, turning them into useless jelly. Death can come immediately or after hours of horrible pain and agony.”
“Have you seen this yourself, or is this another rumour?” the most senior officer, a general, asked.
“I’ve seen the results myself. They tested it on British prisoners of war. I treated those who didn’t die immediately.”
“Such an action is unthinkable. I cannot believe the Germans would stoop so low.”
“They’ve indiscriminately killed civilians, on land and at sea. The Germans have shown us repeatedly that they’re willing to do anything to win,” her father said. “Why does this seem so unbelievable?”
“What measures can we possibly take with so little notice? We have thousands of troops on the front line. Will they use this gas on the entire front or at specific areas?”
“I don’t know,” Jude replied.
“Do you know what day they will use it?”
“Anytime now, General. I’m certain they’re simply waiting for the winds to be blowing in the right direction.”
He grunted. “Thank you for your report, Miss Goddard. We’ll take it under advisement.”
Dismissed, that’s what she was, along with every warning she’d given. She wanted to rail at the general’s stupidity and short-sightedness. She wanted to tell him he was making a huge mistake.
Instead, she gave a brief curtsy and left the room.
Her father caught up to her a few moments later. “Disappointing.”
“Damn near disgusting.”
“Now, now, there’s no need for that kind of language.”
“Yes, Father, there is.” She stopped to look at him, her anger enough to make her hands shake. “Thousands of men are going to be injured or die because those old men won’t take my warning seriously. Is it because I’m a woman?” She turned away, defeat causing her shoulders to droop. “I should have let you do all the talking. I should have stayed out of it.”
“It wouldn’t have made that much of a difference, if any. They’re certain they’re right.”
“That’s not going to make me feel any better when the casualties and dead start piling up.”
“Let’s be ready for that, then.”
“Ready? What do you mean? They ignored everything I had to say.”
“Generals see battle from a particular point of view. Quartermasters see it from another.”
“I don’t understand.”
“Our man has arrived in London and begun preparations. We’ll be receiving a large shipment of cotton pads and barrels of bicarbonate solution, thanks to your suggestion.”
“Without the orders of the men who just patted me on the head like I’m some idiot?”
“Our man’s got my orders. I may not be a general, but I’m not so low either.”
“Who’s this man of yours?”
“Lawrence, of course.”
“Michael? Does he...” She couldn’t finish the question. At least, not the one she wanted to ask most. “Has he recovered from his injuries?”
“Very near, thanks to you.”
She narrowed her eyes. “Speaking of Michael, I’m very angry with you.”
He cleared his throat. “Michael asked after you.”
“Oh?” Changing the subject wasn’t going to get him out of explaining himself, but she did want to know what Michael said.
“Wanted to be sure you were uninjured as well. Seemed somewhat concerned you might have taken a bad fall at some point. Something about an incident on a train?”
The train? Nothing had happened on the train except the two of them making love.
Good God.
He wanted to know if she was pregnant.
“I hope you reassured him that I was perfectly healthy.”
“I said you seemed fine.”
“Well, thank you.”
“You can be more specific with him when he gets here.”
The room suddenly ran out of air. “He’s coming here?”
“He’s bringing the supplies with him. I just hope we won’t need them before he arrives.”
They walked in silence for a minute before she gave voice to a question that had been plaguing her since discovering her father’s role in Michael’s rejection.
“Father, why did you order Michael to lie?”
“I thought it best at the time.” He sighed. “I was wrong and I was a bastard about it. I used his emotions to blackmail him into agreeing with me. I thought he was the wrong kind of man for you. It turns out I was the one who was wrong.”