by Jodi Thomas
“Not really. I think he called it a night not long after dark.”
Katherine placed her arm around Sarah as they hurried toward the tents. “I need to talk with you as soon as we have some time.”
“You’re not planning to go flying off again?”
“No.” Kat rubbed her backside. “I love the flying, but the landings are murder. I made a decision while I was flying.”
Sarah linked her arm in Kat’s as they hurried to Kat’s quarters. “As long as you and Cody are safe, nothing else really matters.”
“That’s how I feel.” Kat took a deep breath. “I won’t be going back with you in two months. I’ve decided to stay longer with the Red Cross.”
Sarah looked up at her friend. “Thank God,” she said. “Because I signed my reenlistment papers yesterday and hadn’t had time to tell you. I miss Matthew terribly, but I’m needed here. Maybe he’ll understand.”
Kat filled the teapot with water. “I hope you’re not staying because of me.”
“No,” Sarah answered. “I’m staying because I’m needed. We have a massive job to do.”
Kat lit the tiny stove. “Maybe between the two of us we can make a difference.”
“Maybe.” Sarah laughed as she reached for the two cups. “Shall we have tea?”
Twenty-eight
DEATH MOVED ACROSS France with endless artillery in one hand and the sword of typhoid fever in the other, killing equally with both weapons. Sarah worked each day until her hands bled, but the lines of wounded soldiers seemed endless.
Her only refuge hid in the quiet hour she spent each night with her shadow man. Gradually he began to talk more, asking her questions, telling her news of the pilots who flew into the small airstrip. Though he came to her only in the darkness, she knew there were subtle changes in him. She no longer smelled dirt and oil when he was near, and once when she touched his hair accidentally, it felt clean and soft.
She walked behind the main tent at sunset toward the one place where she could hide from the horror around her. During the months she’d been here, the French mechanic had become an island in a stormy sea. Katherine was close, but she had enough to worry about, with Cody and running the hospital. Sarah saved her problems each day until sunset, when she could talk with a man whose face she’d never seen clearly.
“Hello?” she called as she moved near the rocks, already guessing he was near.
“Sarah,” came his answer. He said her name as though it were the beginning of a prayer. “I was afraid you were not coming tonight, ma chèrie.”
“I’m sorry I’m late.”
“It doesn’t matter,” he said. “Sit down. I brought you some cream for your hands.”
Sarah did as he’d instructed and he knelt in front of her. “I bought this in the village. The farmer said it’s made from goat’s milk and aloe oil from Africa.”
Sarah pulled her hands away, not wanting him to see the swollen red cuts along each crease. “My hands don’t hurt so badly,” she lied. “You shouldn’t have gone to so much trouble.”
Her shadow man didn’t answer but simply took her hands firmly in his. His fingers were long and strong. With a gentle pressure, he rubbed the cream into her palms.
“That feels wonderful.” Sarah leaned back against the rocks and relaxed.
He continued to slowly circle her chapped hands until he’d rubbed all the cream into them. Then he wrapped each with a bandage.
Sarah watched his dark outline before her. He’d grown to mean so much to her. His kindness seemed endless and without demand.
“Thank you.” She leaned forward, but as always, he backed away, pulling a few feet out of her reach.
He was still, as though he thought she might advance and he would have to run. Sarah smiled. As thin as he was, he was far more powerful than she. Did he really think she might grab him and force him to stay? She knew his face was jagged with scars, but because the scars were a part of this kind man, she didn’t find them repulsive.
“You’re a nice man.” She brushed his jawline with her fingertip.
He stumbled away from her as though he’d been shot at point-blank range.
“Wait.” Sarah grabbed his cotton shirt. “I’m sorry.” Her fingers closed around the material. The only way he was going to disappear into the darkness this time was if he dragged her with him. “I didn’t mean to startle you…or hurt you.” She hesitated, trying to find words he’d understand. “I’m sorry I was so forward. Please don’t take offense.”
He stopped pulling away, but he turned his face as far away from her as her hold on his shirt would allow. “You wouldn’t touch my face if you saw me in the light.”
His pain was as thick as oil, and Sarah felt her heart twist with compassion. “The man I touched is my friend, and I would have done so in daylight or darkness. You mean so much to me. More than you’ll ever know.” She released his shirt and turned her back to him. “Please don’t disappear. Don’t leave me alone tonight.”
Sarah fought back her sobs. She knew she’d gone too far by touching him, but it was too late to go back now. “Some nights I need someone to talk to so desperately. I won’t touch your face if you promise not to leave me alone.”
He moved behind her and lightly rested one hand on her shoulder. “I’ll be here if you need me.”
He leaned an inch closer, and she did the same until her back pressed against his chest.
Sarah drew strength from his nearness. “Everything in the world is dying. I’m so afraid.”
“I know how you feel,” he whispered. “Until you came, I felt the same way.”
Sarah couldn’t stop herself. She had to tell him how she felt. “When I came here, I thought I could save lives, but all I seem to do is wipe up blood. I thought I was called to help the suffering, but the dying goes on and on. No matter how many times I wash my hands, I can’t get the bloodstains off.”
She wished she could curl up in his arms. “Since the day we entered nursing school people have been telling me I’m a natural nurse. But I’m not; Katherine is. She can pull far enough away from the suffering to get the job done. If I feel any more of their pain, I’ll explode.
“I should go back home. I’m a good mother. I’m a good nurse to women having babies and old people with rheumatism, but this job is too great for me. I don’t belong here.”
“Yes, you do, ma chérie. You belong here.”
“No.” She stared up into the stormy night sky. “I don’t belong anywhere. You see, I’m dead inside. I died the day the father of my child was killed. My heart is cold and dried up. Only the living should try to save the living.”
“You’re not dead inside.” His voice was so low that the comment could have been a thought that passed between them.
Sarah brushed away her tears with her bandaged palm. “Yes, I am. All I’m able to feel is pain. I’ve pushed all other feelings aside for so long that they wouldn’t return even if I summoned them.”
“You’re a beautiful woman.”
“No,” she answered. “I’m a mother and a nurse and nothing more. The woman part of me is dead.”
The shadow moved slowly away from her. “Sometimes,” he murmured, “it’s unwise to declare even a part of yourself dead permanently.”
She turned to question him, but he was gone.
* * *
As Sarah worked through the shadows, she missed her son desperately, but the sons of thousands of other mothers were dying, and she had to help. Her six months stretched into nine, but she still didn’t feel her work was done. She and Katherine were awarded the Florence Nightingale Medal, the highest honor a nurse could receive. Both mailed their medals home to Miss Willingham.
Twenty-nine
KATHERINE WATCHED SARAH ail day, knowing something was wrong, but remained unable to corner her long enough to find out what it was. The weather had been cold and rainy for days. Everyone in the hospital felt the dreariness outside. Even the war seemed to have taken cover for a
rest until the weather cleared.
Finally, as Sarah’s shift ended, Katherine watched her friend slowly remove her apron and walk toward the entrance. She looked so tiny among the rows of beds, almost like a lost child. She didn’t stop every few bunks as was her habit, but held her chin high and moved slowly down the aisle.
As she reached the entrance, Sarah crumpled like a wet paper doll. She fell so quickly, she was on the floor before anyone in the tent could react.
Katherine dropped the tray she’d been carrying and ran toward her, as did several others. By the time Katherine could get close, Dr. Wells was already kneeling over Sarah, checking her pulse.
Katherine dropped beside him, holding her breath as she waited for his diagnosis. She forced herself not to reach out and touch Sarah. If she had simply fainted from exhaustion, Kat didn’t want to embarrass herself by overreacting. If it was more serious, she had to be prepared to do what was necessary. After all, she was the head nurse; the others took their lead from her.
It took Dr. Wells’ only a moment; then he nodded as he always did when he’d made a diagnosis. “She’s got the fever,” he whispered to Katherine. “We have nowhere to put a woman patient. We’ll have to ship her to the French hospital closer to the coast.”
“No!” Katherine wasn’t about to have Sarah sent so far away.
“Be reasonable, Katherine. We can’t keep her here with the men.”
Kat motioned for the medics to lift Sarah onto a stretcher. “I’ll make up a bed in my tent.”
The doctor nodded and turned to continue his work. Sarah was one of his troops, and he didn’t have a replacement for her. “I won’t have you tying up other nurses.”
“I understand,” Kat agreed.
The doctor’s hard features softened. “I’ll check in on her as soon as I’m finished here. Keep her warm.”
“Yes, sir.” Katherine knew he was as worried as she was, but he hid it behind his professional manner.
By nightfall Katherine had her tiny office organized like a private hospital. She’d had a cot delivered and all the supplies she might need. Sarah was dressed in a nightgown and resting quietly. Her fever was high enough to worry Katherine, but not dangerous. Katherine sat beside her, holding her hand, trying to force her strength into Sarah’s body.
“This is all my fault,” Katherine murmured. “If I hadn’t come to France, you wouldn’t have followed.” She smiled, a sad smile that never reached her eyes. As she remembered, she hadn’t had a great deal of choice about coming.
Sarah opened heavy eyelids. “It’s not your fault,” she said. “Stop blaming yourself for everything bad in my life,” Her voice was weak, but her will was strong. “Ever since that day when we were eight and I asked you to cut my hand you’ve taken responsibility for every injury I’ve suffered.”
Kat smiled, realizing Sarah was probably right.
“I only have a little fever. I’ll be fine after I get some rest.” Sarah closed her eyes.
Katherine knew this wasn’t just a little fever. “Just get well.” She traced the scar on her friend’s palm. “Blood sisters forever,” she added. “Please get well.”
Someone rattled the tent flap. Katherine didn’t want to talk to anyone. She just wanted to be alone with Sarah. If she could have figured out a way, she’d have loaded Sarah up and gone home. Miss Willingham would know cures for fever that even Dr. Wells wouldn’t know. Miss Willingham would make them both feel better.
The tent flap rattled again.
“Yes?” Katherine snapped as someone stepped just inside her office but still in shadow.
“I come to check on the little nurse.” The French accent was thick with worry.
Katherine looked up at the mechanic she’d grown to trust. “It isn’t good. She’s got the fever.”
“I want to help.” The shadow moved nervously as if preparing to fight an opponent. She knew it had taken a great deal of courage for him to move out of the darkness and come to her tent.
“There’s not much to do except wait. I’ve told the other nurses that I’ll take care of her. They promised to check on her at night while I’m at the hospital.”
A long silence stopped even the air in the tent from moving before the man spoke again. “I could bring you food and supplies. I could sleep just outside in case you need something.” He seemed desperate for a chance to help. “I could sit with her at night.”
“It’s too dangerous. You might get the fever.”
“I don’t care. I want to help.” His words were both a plea and a demand.
Katherine’s fear and worry over Sarah’s illness made her impatient with this poor man. She was a breath away from asking him what he knew of nursing and how on God’s earth he thought he could care for someone when the only thing he ever worked on was engines. But she stopped herself. She’d known him for a long time, and he’d just said more words to her than he’d ever uttered. She realized he must care a great deal about Sarah.
“You could be a great help if you’d fetch her meals so I don’t have to leave her to do that. And at night, if you wish, you can make a bed just inside the door. That way if Sarah cries out, you can come and get me.” Katherine wasn’t sure she wanted this man touching Sarah with his dirty hands. She didn’t bother to tell him he’d have to be very quiet; the man was always as silent as a light breeze. She had decided she might as well put him to work because she had a feeling he was going to be a step away watching, whether she accepted his help or not.
“I’ll go get my things,” he said without hesitation and disappeared.
After he’d gone, Katherine wondered if she’d made the right decision. No one in the camp knew anything about Hoot. He seemed to have no past and no future, and no friends or enemies for that matter. But if he’d been a bad man, she reasoned, she would have heard something by now. He had helped her once when she needed the uniform. She owed him for that. Cody trusted him with their mail, so maybe she should trust him just a little.
An hour later Katherine had to return to her shift. She left Sarah sleeping while Hoot sat in the dark corner by the door. She reminded him to come and get her if Sarah called out, but she wasn’t sure how much the Frenchman understood. Finally she left the tent, vowing that if he so much as touched Sarah’s hair she’d kill him ten times.
* * *
The lights were low, like circles of fireflies drifting around her, when Sarah opened her eyes. Her mouth felt sandy and dry, and her arms were too heavy to move. Her head felt as if she’d slept with her face against the oven door, but her body shook with a chill.
She turned her head slowly and saw the outline of a man standing over her, but she couldn’t seem to focus her eyes. He was only a dark form hovering nearby.
“Water,” she whispered.
The outline moved away and returned with a cup. He sat on the edge of the cot and lifted her carefully into his arms. When she was secure against his shoulder, he raised the cup of water to her lips. She swallowed a few drops, then rested her head against his heart. He felt so good to be close to. The nightmare she’d been having disappeared as he rocked her gently in his arms.
“Thank you,” Sarah whispered.
“You’re welcome, darling.”
Sarah cuddled closer, rubbing her hand lightly over his chest. “Don’t leave me,” she said. “Don’t ever leave me.”
He kissed the top of her head. “I’m right here if you need me, ma chèrie.”
Sarah drifted in and out of her dream. Sometimes she awakened burning hot and felt someone place a cool cloth on her forehead. Sometimes she’d begin to shiver, and even before she asked, blankets would be tucked in around her.
When the tent was bright with daylight, Sarah knew Katherine was always near; but when the room was in shadows, it was the man who saw to her every need. He slept in a chair only an arm’s length away. Once, when she moved her head slightly, she felt his head resting on her bed. She didn’t have to open her eyes to know he slept. Gently,
so as not to awaken him, she brushed her fingers over his soft hair. He wore it longer than most men did, and it felt wonderful in her fingers, reminding her of Bart’s thick, coarse mane.
When she finally grew too tired to continue, she pulled her hand an inch away and rested it beside his face. She could feel his warm, slow breath brushing across her fingers. After several minutes he moved slightly and kissed her hand with a feather-light kiss that could have been more in her dreams than in the real world.
After an endless time during which the days and nights seemed to be strung together like smoke rings, Sarah awoke and her vision was clear. She felt weak, but fog no longer fuzzed her mind until no thought could catch hold.
Looking around, Sarah was surprised to find herself in Katherine’s office. Everything was neatly arranged as if Sarah had been sleeping there for a long time.
The door flap rattled and Katherine rushed in followed by a brisk wind and a watery morning sun. She paused for a moment and stared at Sarah.
Sarah rose up on one elbow and gave her redheaded friend a weak smile. “Morning. How long have I been asleep?”
All at once Sarah found herself in Katherine’s arms. She was being hugged so wildly that she feared the room might start spinning again.
When Katherine pulled away, tears shimmered in her eyes. “You’ve been ill for over six weeks now. I’ve been so worried about you.”
Sarah tried to comprehend Katherine’s statement. How could it be possible? She felt as if she’d awakened after too long a night’s sleep. The faint memory of sleeping in Bart’s arms warmed her for a moment. It would almost be worth being ill if she could dream again of him. But he could only live in her fantasies, for there was no place for fantasy in reality.
“What’s happened?” A feeling that life had passed her by filtered through Sarah’s sleepy mind. “The war—is it over?”
“Not by a long shot,” Katherine answered. “I’m beginning to think the war will never be over.”
