As he turned, however, she slowed and closed the distance between them.
“Daniel,” she said breathlessly.
“Melanie, what's the matter?” He continued to search behind her for some unseen attacker.
“I…I just…” She still tried to catch her breath.
“Take your time.” He put a hand on her shoulder to still her.
Her eyes spoke her gratitude as she put a hand on her stomach.
“I just couldn't let you leave without telling you how much you mean to me. I was first thinking 'I need to wait and let him make the first move,' but then I was thinking, 'What if he dies in this battle and he never knows? Is it worth it to me that I waited for you to make the first move if I never got to tell you?' And I thought 'No, I'll never be able to live with myself'…”
“Whoa, slow down. What are you saying?” He became more confused by the second.
“I care for you, Daniel, so much. And I needed for you to know that. It's okay if you don't feel the same. I understand. I just wanted you to know that I…”
Daniel's lips met hers. He had been taken aback by her confession. It made his head swim. Then she kept talking and he couldn't think straight. The only thing he could think to do was to kiss her. So that's what he did.
As they parted, she looked into his eyes. Did she want for some reassurance of his feelings?
“I care for you too, Melanie. You're all I think about. And I'm sorry I didn't tell you first. I guess I…”
She reached for the sides of his face and pulled his lips to hers for another kiss.
When their lips parted this time, he embraced her, holding her to himself and pressing kisses into her hair.
After several long moments, Daniel spoke up. “Tell me I'm not dreaming.”
She pinched him.
“Ow! I said 'tell me'!”
She pulled back only enough to look into his face. “At least now you know for sure.”
He pressed a kiss to her mouth again, a softer, more gentle kiss than before. “Yes, now I know.”
“I could stay like this forever,” Melanie said, snuggling up to his chest again.
“I know,” he kissed the top of her head. “So could I, dearest Melanie. But it's almost curfew.”
Melanie groaned. “I don't want to let you go. Because that means it's time to sleep and when I wake in the morning you'll be gone. Perhaps forever.”
“But we'll forever have this moment. I will hold it here.” He placed a hand over his heart. “And cherish it every moment of my life.”
She nodded. “As will I.”
He captured her lips again for one last kiss, holding her as close as he dared. And when it was over, it was he who insisted she turn and walk away. As he watched her go, a name drifted into his consciousness. A name he had neglected to think about at any point in this whole encounter. Jacob.
And Daniel's heart sank as he thought of Jacob.
* * *
The next morning, Elizabeth woke earlier than usual. Sleeping under a rock ledge with blowing wind wasn't the most comfortable experience. It wasn't long after the rays of daylight had emerged the next morning that the two of them stirred.
“You know, I think getting up early every morning back at camp has gotten me used to early risings,” Elizabeth observed out loud.
“It's not quite like it was in Boston. But you're right, Lizzie, this would have been harder back when we first shipped out.” John rose to his feet. “It's not coffee, but let's get a drink from the stream. I think we have a couple more biscuits for breakfast. I'm hoping it isn't too much farther. Maybe today, maybe tomorrow.”
John journeyed over to the stream and collected water for Elizabeth. Bringing it back to her, he encouraged her to drink her fill. He returned to the stream and filled it as many times as he thought necessary.
Elizabeth drank from the cup and started gnawing on her biscuit. It didn't taste quite as good as it did when it was hot. But it settled the growling in her stomach. They were careful not to linger too long after finishing what foodstuffs they had.
They started to move down the foothills. As they progressed throughout the morning, trying to keep in general sight of the stream, the rocks seemed to be getting smaller, and the slope of the hills smoothed out. Then John determined it was time for a break. And Elizabeth was grateful for it.
“I'm going to get some more water. That was a rough walk,” John said.
“Yeah. I used leg muscles I didn't know I had.” Elizabeth leaned back against a tree.
After John returned, he handed the cup to Elizabeth.
“I wanted to say, Lizzie, that I hope I didn't make you feel bad last night. I realize that you were in a tricky situation with your amnesia and all, and…” John started to stumble over his words. “What I'm trying to say is, I'm glad you shared with me what happened. I appreciate that you trust me.”
“You deserve as much, if not more. I'm glad Matthew decided to help us in the end. I was so worried when he stormed off. I sincerely hope he was able to escape. He did help me through a tough situation,” Elizabeth said, signaling not love for Matthew, but instead honest hope.
“I hope he makes it, too. Maybe he'll head out west and find a new life there,” John said with true conviction. It was a good place for them to settle with the Matthew situation. Perhaps that was all that needed to be said.
The break was over sooner than Elizabeth would have liked. Her legs muscles were sore and her feet ached. Still, they continued for several hours more. John stopped them for more breaks, but he could not disguise that their situation grew that much tougher. They had finished off whatever biscuits they had at breakfast. And though they felt hungry, Elizabeth preferred that to having to feign being Confederates and stay in another plantation.
At one point, as they stumbled along in the afternoon, John raised his hand and looked back at Elizabeth, signaling for her to stop. He glanced around then motioned for Elizabeth to come up next to him. As she did so, John directed her attention to the dirt, pointing out footprints.
“Those look like boots from soldiers,” John whispered.
The tracks traveled all the way to the stream.
“Those might be from soldiers fetching water. Let's see where they lead. But keep your head down,” he continued in a quiet voice.
Elizabeth nodded. They crouched down, and started walking away from the stream, tracking the prints. Eventually, the trail became impossible to follow as they approach the edge of the forest and saw an open field. John stood behind a tree, and pointed at the next one over as a place for Elizabeth to see as well. Her eyes scanned the field and the small hill that rose up further away.
“I don't see any troops, do you?” John asked.
“No, but something is familiar,” Elizabeth responded. Something nagged at her. She couldn't put her finger on it. Suddenly she realized what it was. “John, that hill. I remember that hill. It's the one I used to sit on and sketch in the morning before my duties.” Elizabeth raced out into the open field.
John chased after her. “What are you doing?”
“This is where our camp used to be. It's moved, but I remember that hill. On one of the first days, I was up there and noticed you,” Elizabeth said excitedly.
John's face lit up. “I remember that day. That was you?”
“I managed to enlist help that got us out of a Confederate camp, so don't you start sassing me, John Taylor.” Elizabeth's tone was strict, but she hoped her eyes betrayed her joke.
Smiling at her quick comment, John remarked, “Lizzie, you'll make a great mother some day. Come on. Let's check things out. Who knows? Maybe we can find a scrap of leftover food.”
They found where the camp had been centered, where latrines had been dug, and saw signs where tents used to be pitched, but there wasn't much of anything left behind they could eat.
“Drat! I wasn't hoping to find a slab of bacon and a pan. Just a piece of hard tack would have been nice.”
/> Elizabeth felt his frustration. They were so near, and yet so far.
“What are we going to do now?” She looked up at him. He had brought them this far.
“We need to search around and figure out which way they moved.” John's eyes scanned the horizons around them. “You know, when I was looking over there,” John continued, pointing to the left, “I think I may have seen more foot prints. It's hard to tell, but let's check it out.”
John headed that direction, and Elizabeth followed. They didn't find decisive footprints, but they did spot a set of wagon tracks headed off to the east, definitely away from the camp, so they decided to follow.
They continued hiking for the rest of the day, watching as the sun started to get closer and closer to the horizon. The shadows grew longer, and Elizabeth began to realize they were now missing something important. The stream!
No food…no water. Would they make it? But she chased those terrifying thoughts from her mind. She had to trust John.
“Don't worry, Lizzie, I'm sure we'll catch up to them in plenty of time,” John said. Had he read her mind?
An hour more and the sun set. They had just reached a small ridge and could see the sun settle in as the moon began to rise.
“We'll stop here. It shouldn't be too far to walk in the morning.” John stopped and settled down next to a tree.
Elizabeth sat down beside him and wondered after an evening routine. There was no food or water to consume and she was exhausted. Perhaps settling in to sleep was best. So she leaned into John's side, enjoying the simple feel as he wrapped his arm around her, pulling her ever closer.
* * *
As the night came upon them, John snuggled Lizzie. He had pushed her hard today and she was tired. It did feel strange to just stop and bed down, but what else was there for them? So he decided to entertain her the way he always had—with his cases.
Wanting to give her something else to think about so she wouldn't worry, he started to tell her about some of the cases he had dealt with while working in the Confederate hospital. John had hardly finished his first case, when he heard her heavy breathing. It truly had been a long day.
John had a harder time sleeping. He felt deeply responsible to get Elizabeth back safe. Not only did he feel the need to get her back to Union territory, but back to her parents. If something happened to her now, he could never live with himself. She had proven herself extraordinary in some of the most dire circumstances, but he told himself that she had been lucky. And luck was something that tended to run out at the worst possible moments.
As the sun had set, and a partial moon came out, he noticed in the far distance some slight twinkling. It was difficult to make out. John squinted, but it didn't help. Are those campfires? He tried to judge the distance, and decided it was too far to travel now. Besides they needed their rest, and he just couldn't bring himself to wake Elizabeth. If they started early enough, they’d probably make it by mid-morning.
And so, with that new information to give him peace, John fell asleep, too.
* * *
“Lizzie.” John stirred her, a gentle shake bringing her around to consciousness. “I saw campfires last night. Maybe from our unit.”
She opened her eyes lazily. “What?”
“I saw campfires last night. I'm sure we can get there in a few hours.”
She yawned and stretched, chasing sleep from her limbs.
John stood and helped Elizabeth to her feet. “You ready?”
Elizabeth nodded and they moved on. Her body ached still from the previous days' walks, but she dared not utter a complaint. Not that John wouldn't understand. She didn't want to burden him any further. They were both tired, worn out, hungry, and thirsty. If a few hours of walking would solve those problems, she would push her protesting muscles a little longer.
As determined as she was, however, her mind-over-matter strategy started wearing thin a couple of hours into their journey and she found it harder to push herself. But John urged her ever onward.
At one point he paused to scan the horizon. It was the one time she got ahead of him.
“We're almost there, Lizzie. It won't be long until we're…”
Bang! Elizabeth stopped in her tracks, ducking as much as she could in an open field. Where could it have come from? She scanned the area for the source of the sound. “Should we take cover?”
There was no answer.
She turned.
A large pool of red formed on the upper right portion of John’s uniform.
“John, no!” she screamed as she eased him down to the ground. She put pressure on the wound with her hands.
John moved his lips to speak.
“Shhh. Don't try to talk. You'll be fine,” she said to herself more than to him. “Somebody help me!” she screamed.
Union soldiers stepped out of the underbrush, guns drawn and aimed at her.
“We are on your side,” she screamed at them. “Help us!”
“Why is he in a Confederate uniform?” one man questioned her, his gruff voice demanding an answer.
“Because we were prisoners of war and that's how we escaped. This is Dr. John Taylor. He's been missing from the 16th Regiment.”
“That camp is not far. There's a hospital there.”
“Did you hear that, John?” She looked down at him.
He was unconscious.
She checked his pulse—faint.
He was barely breathing.
“No, John, no,” she yelled as tears poured down her face. “You can't leave. Stay with me!”
One of the soldiers pulled her off John, and the other two lifted him. She wanted to fight the soldier that held her, but it was no use. So she buried her face in his chest, sobbing as the other two carried John away. Eventually, she calmed enough for the soldier to lead her in the direction they had taken John.
They may have walked for minutes or hours. Elizabeth did not know. In a daze, the time stretched out and became exaggerated in her mind. As soon as they arrived, Elizabeth rushed for the hospital and tried to squeeze her way to John's side, past the nurses who already bustled around him. She hadn't noticed Dr. Smith until she heard his booming voice.
“Could someone please remove this young lady? She doesn't need to see this.”
“No,” she protested as a nurse stepped to her, placing a hand on her arm.
“Miss, it would be better for everyone if you wait outside.”
“But John needs me,” she argued, fighting the nurse's hands.
“I understand, but the doctor needs to work. He's doing everything he can to save Dr. Taylor's life and he doesn't need any distractions.” The woman motioned for another nurse to help her.
Now there were two nurses, one grasping each of Elizabeth's arms and ushering her out of the surgical suite. Once outside, they were met by Melanie, who indicated she would take Elizabeth from there. They released her arms and Melanie took hold of her forearms, pulling her further away from the hospital.
“Elizabeth, you're alive!”
“I need to get to John,” she tried to push past her.
Melanie moved her grip until she had a hold of Elizabeth's upper arms. “You can't go in there. You know that.”
“No, I don't.” Elizabeth tried to wriggle free.
“Yes, you do,” Melanie said firmly.
Elizabeth was surprised by Melanie's grip. Try as she might, she couldn't struggle free. She gave up and half collapsed into Melanie's arms. “I'm so afraid!”
“I know you are, but he's strong. He'll make it.” Melanie patted Elizabeth's back.
“How can you be sure?” Elizabeth sniffed. She didn't want to fall apart, but her whole world seemed to be crumbling.
“We have to have faith that he'll pull through.”
Elizabeth nodded.
“Let's get you cleaned up.” Melanie directed Elizabeth away from the hospital and toward the women's tents.
“No,” Elizabeth renewed her protests. “I have to be here
when he wakes up, I…”
“He'll be in surgery for a while,” Melanie reasoned with her. “You don't want him to see you the first time after surgery all covered with blood, do you?”
Elizabeth looked down at herself. She was a mess. Her dress was bloodstained and dirty, her face and hands were dirt-marred and blood-streaked. So when Melanie went to lead her away again, she didn't protest.
Melanie took her first to their tent to grab one of her dresses for Elizabeth and some soap. Then she walked to the stream, stopping to recruit another woman for some assistance. They scrubbed every inch of Elizabeth's skin clean of dirt and blood before drying her off and redressing her.
Elizabeth, for her part, did as she was told.
Every once in a while, she would wonder after her beloved and ask, “John?”
And Melanie would assure her that he was in surgery and that the doctors were doing everything they could.
Melanie and the other woman then led Elizabeth back to Melanie's tent and laid her down on her old mat to rest. Just then Sarah came in. She indicated for Melanie to step outside.
“He's out of surgery, but it's still not good.”
“What should we tell her?”
“Let her rest for now. When she wakes, tell her he's alive.”
* * *
Abigail pulled herself out of bed. Her maidservant had brought her some tea, but had placed it by her chair. Yes, it probably wasn’t wise for her to take her tea in the bed, though she loathed to slip out from underneath the covers. Stepping onto her feet at this hour of the day always felt a little odd. Almost as if her legs didn’t want to support her.
Making her way to her sitting area, she grazed the curtain with her shoulder. The light of the noon sun burst into the room through the slit created. Abigail jerked away from the window dressings.
Finally sinking into her sitting chair, she sighed. How could it be that the trip from the bed to the chair had cost her so much energy? She reached for the tea, sipping the warm liquid, allowing it to soothe her throat.
Off To War (War Between The States) Page 23