The War Nurse

by Tracey Enerson Wood

  “Well, my darling, what do you think?” he said.

  “It’s perfect. Absolutely perfect. I’m afraid I’m going to have to kiss you now.”

  “If you must.” He took me in his arms, and as the breathtaking world swirled around me, I knew I was right to forever capture the moment.

  * * *

  We arrived back at the train station only minutes before the train came huffing into the station. It was time enough to grab a quick croissant and slice of jambon. Once aboard, feeling relaxed, I rested my head on Fred’s shoulder and fell promptly to sleep.

  In what seemed like seconds, he was jostling me. “We’re here.”

  Sure enough, we had arrived at Gare Saint-Lazare. As we stepped from the train, I had the feeling of déjà vu. The black train threading through the station, with its roof a web of glass and steel, looked familiar.

  “Another of Monet’s favorite subjects.” Fred answered my question before I could ask it.

  There was a line of taxicabs outside the station, and we hopped in one and handed the driver the address. It had recently rained, the cobblestone streets glistened, and the raindrops clung to the trees lining the wide boulevards. Rouen was quaint, with its small alleys and stone and brick buildings. But Paris was magnificent. It was like comparing a girl in a summer frock to an elite woman in a sumptuous ball gown. We drove around traffic circles, sometimes several times. I wasn’t sure if the driver missed the correct street to exit or was just giving us a bit of an extra tour. Looking down the roads that spread from the circle like spokes on a wheel, it seemed you could see for miles.

  Fred advised me that the long, straight, and wide streets were designed that way to protect Napoleon from artillery or snipers. I wasn’t sure if he was kidding me, but they certainly made the city beautiful.

  Upon reaching the building where my interview was to be held, I parted with my travel partner. It wouldn’t do to seem to need an escort. I met with the director of medical service, but the overall chief of nursing was away on business. As I waited for my appointment, I nervously worried the edge of my cuffs as I ran my credentials through my head.

  But it turned out there wasn’t any actual interview. My appointment seemed a forgone conclusion, and I was simply asked when I would like to begin—how about next week?

  I was still reeling from the quickness of it all when I met up with Fred, who was sitting at a sidewalk café. He had pointed out the red-and-white awning beforehand, and I was glad not to have to concentrate too much to find my way.

  “How did it go? Are congratulations in order?” He stood as I approached, always the gentleman. He had a bottle of champagne in his hand.

  “It seems you’ve already decided they are.”

  “If you got the job, we celebrate. If you didn’t, we celebrate having more time together.” He pulled out a black wire chair for me. “But I’m sure you got it.”

  “Yes, it’s rather more an order than an offer. The Red Cross says the final decision is up to the army. And that their policy is move up or out.”

  Pop went the cork.

  * * *

  Back in Rouen, I fretted over how to tell my nurses. By now, there were over a hundred, plus dozens of nursing assistants and orderlies, all under my supervision. I was closest to my original sixty-four, of course, and I wanted to tell them privately of my leaving.

  By the whispers and glances, I knew they were already aware something was up, and I was pretty sure they knew exactly what. So I couldn’t delay the announcement.

  I put a note on the bulletin board that there would be a meeting of squads 1 to 8 that evening and squads 9 to 16 the next. This fooled no one, for when I arrived for the first meeting, my original crew were all there, stood up simultaneously, and applauded.

  “Sit, sit, my ladies.” I waved them back to their seats. “It seems you have news for me?”

  They laughed, and I could feel my shoulders relaxing as I started feeling better about the whole thing. “You know how much I love you all. But it so happens the overall American Red Cross chief of nursing deserves a well-earned rest. I will be going to Paris to replace her.”

  Despite my best efforts to contain them, tears welled up in my eyes. “This doesn’t mean I will be forgetting you. Quite the contrary. I will be able to oversee your needs and get you the supplies and support you well deserve. And you will always, always”—I placed my hand over my heart—“be with me.”

  Dorothy was the first to rush up and give me a big hug. “This is for the best, Matron. You must go where you are needed.”

  Miss Taylor was next, her hand outstretched rather than a hug. “I will always be grateful for your leadership.”

  “You have been appointed the new matron,” I said and shook her hand.

  Nora came forward. “Congratulations, Matron, and Little Matron.”

  With that, the whole group was upon us, hugging and jostling and whooping. It was time to move on, and yet I never wanted to be with them more.

  * * *

  My preparations were fairly simple. I had paperwork to finish up, but since Miss Taylor had proven herself competent in my absence numerous times, there was little training that needed to be done. I planned to stay with Phil, as he had already acquired a nice flat in Paris, and my belongings could fit inside two steamer trunks.

  The most difficult task by far was sorting out what this meant for Fred and me. I had not changed my mind; I still thought he deserved someone who could fill the role of dedicated wife and mother to his children. As much as I loved him, I knew that couldn’t be me. But every time I had tried to explain this to him, he sulked off like a rejected suitor. I couldn’t seem to get through to him that it was my love for him that guided me.

  My date for leaving, April 10, was fast approaching. Each night, I spun and spun, bedsheets wrapping around me like a cocoon, as I wrestled with what to say to Fred. Finally, I knew, and on the afternoon of April 9, we escaped together to one of our favorite spots along the river.

  We sat on a wooden bench under the shade of a plane tree. Rabbits stared at us as they munched on fresh spring grass. The Seine, its usual grayish tan, was swollen from recent rains, and there wasn’t a sound except from the chirps of birds. It would have been the idyllic place for two lovers to meet, but my heart was filled more with trepidation than lust.

  “I know you’ll be overwhelmed at first. It’s a big job you’re taking on.”

  “No harder than running a field hospital in wartime.”

  “Just the same, it’s different, all sorts of people and routines to get to know.” He patted my thigh. “Not that I have any doubt whatsoever that you’ll ace it all. They picked the right person, at the right time.”

  “Thank you for your confidence in me. I don’t know what I would have done without your support.”

  “You’ll still have it. In fact, that brings me to my big question—”

  I turned my head sharply toward him, my eyes widened.

  He laughed. “No, not that. Don’t worry. But I was wondering when you might have things in order well enough for me to come to visit. A week, I’m hoping. I’m not sure I can go a whole month.” His arm reached around and rested on my shoulders.

  I stared at my hands, which traced the lines on my serge skirt. “Fred, do you want children someday?”

  He pulled back his arm and was silent for a few moments. “Julia, I have a son.”

  My mind raced through all our discussions. I was sure he had never mentioned a son. “Since when?”

  “Since ’05. Cornelia died when he was barely two. He’s been mostly raised by his aunt.”

  “My God, Fred. You never told me this.”

  He covered his face with his hands. “I should probably tell you we also had a daughter.”

  I’m sure my jaw dropped as I waited for him to explain, his entreaties to sha
re emotional pain niggling at my mind all the while.

  “Her name was Helen. Died in infancy. Cornelia never recovered, and then I lost her too.”

  I blinked back tears, both for him and for the disappointment. Clearly, he was not as close to me as he claimed. “I’m so sorry.”

  He held up a hand. “It was so long ago. I have long since buried that sorrow. But if it’s God’s will, I would like more children.”

  That was another punch to the gut. I took a deep breath. I was heading into more unguarded territory. “My dear man, do you know how old I am?”

  “Early thirties? Why?”

  “Thirty-seven on my next birthday. By the time this war is over… I’m afraid I’ll never be a mother. And I’m not sure I’d want to be.”

  “I see. There’s also adoption.” He glanced at me. “Or being childless isn’t the end of the world.”

  “For me, no, it isn’t. But clearly, you want more children. I’ve heard you talk about that.” I took his hand in mine. “Don’t you see how impossible this is?”

  He let out a deep sigh. “I don’t care, Julia. I love you.”

  “I know. And I love you too, deeply. But I’m not sure I can separate the circumstances of our love—the endless support you’ve given me and my nurses, the wonderful you that I’ve come to know so well here, from the everyday bangers and mash for dinner kind of love.”

  He looked at me quizzically.

  “What I mean is, everything is heightened here. Love, life, it’s all in an artificial emotional state. Will we still feel the same way when life returns to normal?”

  “I will.”

  “You say you can’t go a month without seeing me. I think you’ll be surprised how easy it becomes. You’ll miss me, but life will fill in the empty spots.”

  “Of course. We’ll adapt. But I’ll always be happier with you than without.” He bent to pick a blade of grass, then smoothed it between his fingers. “I know this because I was married before.”

  “Not to me.” I chuckled. “I’m a handful.”

  “Nonsense.”

  “Tell me about Cornelia. She must have been very special.”

  “It was a good marriage. But we only had a few years together.” He looked at me, his soft brown eyes sad.

  “I’m sorry.”

  “Do you know we’ve known each other longer than my marriage? In some ways, I know you better than I did her. Of course, you and I also share professional interests.”

  “But in other ways, you knew her better. You were married, after all.”

  “There is knowing someone. Caring for them. Loving them.” He played with the blade of grass, wrapping and rewrapping it around his finger. “But there is something else. Something deeper. It’s being vulnerable enough to share things that you wouldn’t share with anyone else.”

  “Fred, I hope you feel you can share anything with me.”

  He took a deep breath before answering. “I do. I’ve laid my heart out to you more times than I can count.”

  I could think of one giant exception but didn’t mention that. “But?”

  “But I don’t think you do the same. There’s still a band around your heart. An emotional distance, if you will.”

  “I guess I was brought up that way. We didn’t exactly sit around the dining table discussing our feelings and such. I’ve not been married, other than to my work. And maybe my emotions are just not that deep.”

  “You’re making fun of me.”

  “I’m not, truly. And I’m willing to learn to be more open. You have to remember all we’ve been through together, and it’s only rather recently our relationship has taken a distinctly different turn. There’s so much we need to explore about each other. I need time.”

  “There isn’t any rush. I just need to know if you push away because you don’t share the same feelings or because, as you say, you need more time.”

  I didn’t really know the answer to that. “I have a proposition. Why don’t we take advantage of this separation? Make no plans to see each other until we both just can’t stand it any longer.” I stopped to let the birds chime in. “I’m sure I’ll be the first to cave in.”

  “Okay.” He surprised me with his easy acceptance. “But on one condition.”

  “Uh-oh,” I said lightly.

  “That we make our last night memorable.”

  CHAPTER 27

  April 10 dawned with unsettled weather. The days were growing ever longer, so the sun rose well before breakfast, breaking through the rain clouds and giving hope of a pleasant day.

  After dinner the night before, my nurses and the doctors held a grand send-off party for me, along with a reception for Miss Taylor as the new matron and her new assistant, Miss Claiborne. The officers gave the three of us bouquets of beautiful and fragrant roses, along with a crystal charm from Tiffany’s for my watch chain. The doctors escorted the three of us being honored to the mess tent, which had been decorated with many French and American flags, along with the Union Jack.

  Then the three of us formed a receiving line, and every one of the nurses, assistants, and officers came through and shook our hands or gave us hugs. Each one had something wonderful to say: best wishes and good luck and how much they’d miss me. Some told me a quick story of something they would never forget. “Thank you for teaching me how to listen” or “You set an example I’ll follow the rest of my life” and words of support for my new role: “We love you, but you must go where you are most needed.”

  I got through it by burying my emotions, smiling and hugging, and thanking them in return. But when I got back to my room, I had myself a good cry before heading over to say goodbye to Fred.

  * * *

  As I had hoped, the clouds scattered during the train ride to Paris. Alone this time, it gave me the opportunity to review the rather scant instructions regarding my new job and to mentally transition to the role. The scope of it both excited and overwhelmed me. Within it, I could effect real change, make policy that was based on real-world experience, rather than administering from a distance.

  But the staggering responsibility of it all felt heavy upon my shoulders. As I watched the scenery go by, the whole world out there waiting to be discovered, I wondered if Fred was right. He hadn’t actually proposed marriage, but he wouldn’t do that until he was sure of the answer. And I had yet to come up with one. He was a perfect gentleman in our last night together, neither pushing for more than I was ready for nor brushing me off. We spent the evening chatting over too many glasses of red wine and nibbling at a tray of cheeses that Alice had made for me.

  It was oh so normal. Something we had never had before.

  Would it be so terrible to be the wife of a doctor? To spend my days not under the weight of a thousand demands but to do things of my own choosing? I could certainly volunteer for the Red Cross and make a contribution in that way. The conversation I had with my nurses soon after our arrival came to mind. “What will you do when the war ends?” they had asked one another.

  The train clicked as it rolled steadily toward Paris and my immediate future. At this moment, that was what I needed to focus on. It seemed the more Fred pushed, the more I instinctively shied away. The challenge ahead was enormous. I needed 100 percent of my attention to be on the job I had accepted. There were many lives depending on me.

  * * *

  The first two months were a whirlwind of learning a new role, mostly without the help of the previous director. She had been called away, and her assistant had taken ill. Instead of having to learn the strange British system, as I had in Rouen, I had to learn the system of the American Red Cross, which was just as foreign.

  But I found that since the role was so new, I could forge ahead with my own way of doing things, which delighted me. I soon had a regular routine and a trained and able staff to assist.

  * *
*

  It didn’t take long for Marie Curie to learn that I had been reassigned to Paris. An invitation soon came to visit her in nearby Sceaux. After a month of nonstop work at the Red Cross offices, I was excited to take a day off, do some exploring, and see my friend.

  She and her daughters had lived, on and off, at her late husband’s family house. It was not a place visited by anyone outside the family, so it was quite an honor to be invited. When I arrived, Marie was tending a flower garden in front of her home.

  “Aren’t they the most wondrous gift from nature?” she said without any other greeting. And she was wondrous, all five feet of her, surrounded in a sea of yellow, white, and lavender.

  We kissed the air on both cheeks in the European fashion. It occurred to me how much I would miss living on the Continent when the time finally came to return to the States. “Good morning, Madame. You look well.”

  She waved my compliment off, as I knew she would. “Come inside. I’ve baked us some goodies.”

  As we sipped chamomile tea and gobbled the wonderful pastries, it seemed Marie was in an extraordinarily good mood. “It’s nearly over, you know. I’ll be able to get the Radium Institute running full bore. And to think of all the new uses.”

  “Indeed. The X-ray machines have saved so many lives and limbs. I think history will treat you kindly.” I wiped my mouth, sure that it was encircled with fine crumbs.

  “What of the radon gas–filled needles? Have they proven useful for treating diseased tissue?”

  “To tell you the truth, we had limited experience with that in Rouen. We focused on emergency surgery and immediate effects. I can contact the convalescent hospitals for more information for you.”

  “Yes, that would be most helpful. I rarely get out to the field these days.” She poured more tea. “I hear congratulations are in order, my dear. And why did I not hear of this great honor from yourself?”

  My face warmed. Marie had a way of making me feel a child again. “I’m sorry. It all happened so quickly. But you are the very first person I came out to visit.”

  “Mm-hmm.” Her lips set in a straight line. She did not seem convinced.