A Nurse for Daniel

by Marlene Bierworth

  The woman’s voice peaked. “You most certainly will not! What if he moves? I have no training in such matters.”

  She returned to the bedside. “Your son might enjoy it if you just talk with him. We have no idea if he will hear, but I have sensed that patient’s gain comfort in hearing familiar voices.”

  “What on earth would I talk about?”

  “His childhood, your feelings—anything spoken in a soothing voice will bring him a source of comfort.”

  “He doesn’t recall any of it,” she said pointedly. “My son died in the war, and this stranger now lives with us.”

  “Then, perhaps speaking the memories aloud will be a source of comfort to you.” Gwen moved toward the door, determined to leave this time. “I shall return later.”

  In the kitchen, she busied herself to make a broth soup while forcing her anger to subside. That woman was cold, and she did not deserve Daniel or Jake. The attitudes of the high-and-mighty upper-class had always baffled her. It had been easy to steer clear of such hypocrisy while at home, but this was Daniel’s family, and if her heart had its way and she’d read Daniel’s kiss right, they might become hers someday.

  No! She’d never let that happen. When her patient recovered, she must move on. A hospital would be a much better fit for her services. There, no one patient would take precedence over another, the bonding would be nil, and her heart would stay intact.

  Perhaps the headmistress of the nursing school had not read her character as well as she’d first concluded. In her opinion, she was fickle and too tender-hearted to care for one lonely soldier. Nurse Gwendolyn would move on as soon as this emergency passed.

  But what if it didn’t pass? What if Daniel never wakened?

  She hurried to the window at the sound of a buggy to see Arthur in the driver’s seat and Mr. McAlister—and she supposed, the town doctor—in the back. As soon as the wheels stopped turning, Daniel’s father jumped to the ground, and she witnessed true concern in his face, unlike the accusation she’d experienced in his wife’s.

  The door burst open, and the men entered. They ignored her and rushed into Daniel’s bedroom. She sucked in a deep breath and followed them inside.

  The doctor examined the patient while the three bystanders watched on. When he was done, he lifted his eyes to address Gwen. “Nurse, I was told of your heroics in rescuing the child and notice you are still wearing the damp clothes from the cold river water. I suggest you go and change immediately. You do not want to get sick, and cleanliness is important when tending to your patient. We will speak when you return.”

  Gwen chided herself. Hygiene had, of course, been the number-one lesson pounded into her head at the nursing school. In her concern to get Daniel settled, she’d forgotten about her appearance. Her dress draped limply over her body, and her hair, now loosened from its combs, took on a tangled mess that no woman would ever wear in public, let alone her workplace.

  “Yes, Doctor. I’ll be back shortly.” She glanced at Mrs. McAlister, who openly looked down her long nose at her departing employee.

  All the way to her room, Gwen bit back the critical description that wanted to label the woman’s behavior as snobbish, but in all honesty, Mrs. McAlister had every right to expect that she be focused on the young Daniel McAlister. The truth was that the relapse would have happened if he’d been under her nose or squirming on the shoreline while she saved his son.

  Surely, a grandmother would appreciate the risk she’d taken. Then again, maybe not. Who could figure out the minds of the wealthy upper-class? Daniel had been refreshingly different, but he might not have been so had he awakened and remembered his upbringing. One thing she knew for certain: she wouldn’t tolerate loving a snob, and she would terminate her assignment at the McAlister Plantation promptly.

  After washing up, she changed into a serviceable dress and put her starched, white bib-apron over top, swearing she’d never take it off as Daniel had suggested. She looked at the cap she’d wrapped in tissue paper so carefully and debated wearing it. She was in the presence of a real doctor, and he might expect her to look like a real nurse on duty instead of a glorified nanny and what boiled down to an enabler for an ex-soldier in a state of confusion. She felt embarrassed at her role there and almost grateful for the opportunity to use her nursing skills again.

  She scolded herself. It had come at the price of a man slipping into a coma—surely, she was not that self-centered and callus. She was no better than his arrogant mother. Neither of them knew what to do with their feelings for the man lying unconscious in his bed.

  With cap pinned into her upsweep, she hurried next door.

  Chapter 11

  The McAlisters were at the table, sipping the tea Gwen had prepared for Daniel, should he awaken.

  “The doctor would like you to go in, Nurse Gwendolyn,” Mr. McAlister told her, “and I’d like to thank you for your heroic deed in saving the young lad. Arthur speaks very highly of you.”

  She nodded and watched Mrs. McAlister squirm as she buried her face inside her tea cup. At least one of them thought the young McAlister was worth saving.

  Gwen hurried to Daniel’s bedroom and closed the door gently behind her. The doctor was busy examining the patient, but he did glance up to acknowledge her presence. “Looking much more professional, Nurse Gwendolyn,” he said. “You must keep up proper appearances. The field of medicine is a noble profession and deserves respect from our patients.”

  “Yes, sir,” she said. “What can I do to help Mr. McAlister?”

  “He is not responding to me, and I have no idea how long he will stay in a coma this time.”

  “It’s happened before?”

  “His original file from the war zone stated that he arrived at the make-shift hospital on the back of a wagon. His physical injuries were great, and there was talk of amputation. When he came to and discovered the plan for his leg along with his memory loss, the lad went crazy. Stole the sheet clipped at the bottom of the bed. It provided little personal information other than that his name was Daniel, and he was scheduled to lose a leg. I don’t blame the boy for running with news like that.”

  “Soldiers suffer such pain and loss. It’s a wonder how any came back sane,” Gwen said.

  “He disappeared from the infirmary one night. The staff there were pleased. The war was long over by then, and they wanted to close up shop and go home. Needless to say, no one bothered to go looking for him.”

  “Until he landed in the town where that girl, Shannon, took an interest in his welfare,” Gwen said.

  “So I heard. That kind of backfired,” he said, chuckling and glancing at the door. “Oh, how the mighty have fallen. Daniel’s latest escapades while he was hiding out hit the grapevine a few days back. Seems to have gotten himself a baby out of that lady’s so-called-interest.”

  “Jake is a wonderful child, and Daniel is beginning to warm to him. I think father and son will help each other heal from their identity crises.”

  “If the man lives—no two concussions are the same.”

  “He didn’t hit his head. He just had a fierce pain that proved too much to bear.”

  “Yeah, well, hopefully, he will come back to us without the pain, and it will be as you said between the baby and his father.” He pulled the sheet up to Daniel’s chest. “Keep him warm and bathe his lips with water. If he doesn’t awaken soon, I fear we will have lost him.”

  “I shall not cease praying, and I will do as you say. There is a nutritious broth simmering on the stove for when he wakes.”

  “Slow and easy with the food.” He began replacing his tools into the black bag. “I will stop by tomorrow afternoon to see if there is any improvement. Meanwhile, I pass the patient’s care over into your capable hands.”

  “And his parents—are they allowed to sit with him?”

  “They will do as they please, Nurse Gwendolyn. You will not stop them.”

  Gwen agreed with that remark. She’d encourage them to visit and
speak to their son. She waited while the doctor spoke to the McAlisters, using the time to open the curtain and let what remained of the sunlight fall on Daniel’s face. The stress lines had softened, and he lay as a young man who might have merely been asleep on the late afternoon Sabbath.

  She soaked a cloth in cool water and pressed the liquid to his lips. “Now, Daniel McAlister, the time for sleep is over. I need to see those playful eyes open and hear you tell me that everything is all right. Your son is safe and under Mable’s care. The doctor says that only you can order yourself awake, so you’d best hurry before it refuses to function as it should. I don’t want to scare you, but I’ve seen many men slip away, never to return to the land of the living. You have responsibilities now, and that is not an option for you.”

  Gwen looked at the door and noticed that it was still firmly shut. “And Daniel, the stolen kiss asked all kinds of questions between us that you need to address. I beseech you to come back to the land of the living. I miss you.”

  She paced about Daniel’s room and noticed a wall of photos. Gwen took one and brought it to his bedside. “Danny—that’s what Arthur called you when you were children, and you likely called him Artie. He’s in this picture with you. A fishing buddy, but perhaps more. He is anxious for your recovery. He says that he misses the friend of his youth. You should have fished with the man after your return to the plantation. He could have helped you to remember so many good things.”

  No lashes flickered as she talked, seemingly to herself, but she couldn’t seem to stop. “So, shame on you, Mr. McAlister. True friendship is rare, and harder to maintain in this crazy new world we find ourselves in. You and Arthur both returned from the war alive and should count yourself among the blessed.” She wondered if she should jolt him with the truth of their relationship, or if he could even hear her babbling. “It is more than hearsay for some at the row houses that Arthur is perhaps closer than a friend, even closer than David and Jonathon in the Bible. Rumor has it that your father sired him many years ago.”

  A throat cleared from the doorway, and she twirled around to see Daniel’s parents standing there, staring at her, unsmiling and condemning.

  “You would do well not to listen to rumors, let alone feed the grapevine by voicing them,” Mr. McAlister said.

  “I’m sorry if I spoke out of turn. Daniel is not awake. I was merely filling the air with soft, conversational tones to comfort him. There are studies that suggest…”

  “My son need not be comforted by lies, Nurse Gwendolyn,” Mrs. McAlister said. She appeared quite convinced, but her husband neither denied it nor agreed to the possibility.

  “Perhaps you can rest a few minutes while my wife and I sit with Daniel. We shall endeavor to speak to him, as well, and hope that he understands that we do care about his recovery.”

  Gwen nodded, hung the picture back on its wall hook, and fled from the room. She closed the door behind her and collapsed against it. Of all the things for the couple to overhear!

  In the kitchen, she tasted the broth and smiled. At least she could still make a remedy for good healing.

  She moved the pot to the cooler side of the stove to simmer, grabbed the handle of the kettle with her apron, and poured a cup of tea. At the table, she wallowed in her blunders of the day and pondered the fact that she actually still remained employed. Whether they liked it or not, she filled a position they were not willing to take on themselves, so her job seemed secure for the time being. Daniel had become a burden to them, and if he lived through this setback, Gwen would see to it that he pushed forward with his forestry dream and prove himself a valuable asset to the family’s business. His father would surely warm to that, and his mother would learn to love the man who’d come home from the war with no memory of his past.

  Thirty minutes later, the couple came from the bedroom. “Daniel is resting comfortably. We will leave you to tend to your patient and come by in the morning to see if there is any change.”

  “I do hope you will find an eager son, waiting to bid you hello. His chances deteriorate the longer he stays unconscious.”

  “Why were you at the river?” Mrs. McAlister asked as if the question had been burning in her soul the entire day.

  “Daniel planned it. He wanted to take the boy to his favorite spot, and of course, I was invited along to mind them both.”

  “Well, you fell short with my son,” came her quick retort. “Where is the child?”

  “At the row houses. Mable is tending to him while Daniel is sick.”

  “What of her other duties?” The woman appeared shocked.

  Gwen sucked in her breath while gritting her teeth. “She assures me she can do both, but under the circumstances…”

  “I am still the mistress of this plantation and dictate to my slaves—excuse me, my house employees. You would do well to mind your own business and stay out of what does not concern you.”

  The woman was irate. Gwen had now doubled her blunders. The mother and wife had apparently not forgotten her earlier slip-of-tongue when she’d overheard what Gwen had said about the family’s bloodlines.

  “Enjoy your walk back to the house,” Gwen said, hoping they’d take their leave before she annoyed them further.

  “Oh, Mr. McAlister, must we walk?” the woman moaned.

  “It’s not far, my dear. The fresh air will do us good after sitting in that sick room.”

  Gwen bit her tongue. Of all the stupid things to say. Daniel was not contagious with a virus or fever. This was far more serious. Reoccurring head injuries were silent killers. When the door shut, she hurried toward it and slid the bolt across the framework. She hoped no others would darken their door that night.

  The thought had no sooner entered her mind when a gentle knock came on the back door. Gwen groaned and went to answer it to find Arthur, with hat in hand, and his fidgety feet shuffling on the step.

  “Wanted to let you know the little man is settling in fine, and Mable says not to worry a minute about Jake.” He glanced behind her, and she saw the question in his eyes before he asked. “How is Daniel doing?”

  “He has not awoken, and I am quite concerned. We have no idea what triggered his relapse, and he won’t respond to my voice, the wet cloth, or even a touch. His hands lay limp and lifeless.”

  “There is a history at the river,” Arthur said. “Can I take a moment of your time to tell you the story?”

  She opened the door wide, suddenly eager to hear the news that might have played a part in that day’s tragedy. “Please, join me for a cup of tea.” She fussed at the work station before bringing the man a piping hot cup of brew, sat across from him, and took hers up in hand, holding it as if it were a lifeline.

  “We were eight-years-old, down at the river fishing like we always did when Frankie, my cousin, came bothering us. We ignored him, like we always did, while he performed his antics. He just wanted to be accepted, is all, but we weren’t reading his signals good back then.”

  “I didn’t know you had another cousin, Arthur,” Gwen said.

  “That’s because I don’t,” Arthur said. “Frankie took risks all the time, and Daniel and I had big fish on our lines when he pulled his prank that day. It all happened so fast. We were excited, hollering pretty loud, and pulling in a record-high catch. Wasn’t until we threw the fish onshore that we heard the scream. There was a gargle, and we saw the boy’s head go under. I raced for the water, and when I got into trouble, Daniel pulled me onto the shore. Frankie was gone, and we just stood there, exhausted from the effort to save him. I remember the air got awful hot, hard to breathe.”

  “Oh, Arthur, that’s a terrible memory.”

  “Yeah, well, I was wondering if Daniel might have had a flash back to yesteryear after his young Jake fell into the water.”

  “There is a good chance that’s what happened,” Gwen said. “That was our wish, right? That he’d remember something while visiting the lake and maybe the worst one got forced to the top of his mind
during the crisis with Jake. I’d hoped any recollections would be pleasant ones, but…”

  Arthur’s hands trembled, and she scooped them in hers.

  “You are such a good friend. When, or if, Daniel remembers, he will be thrilled to find you waiting by his side.”

  “I am not only his friend; I am his half-brother, and I want him to know that. I know its not proper, and in the light of our lives after the war, I fear it will be our ruin, not our gain.”

  “You underestimate your friend. You need to trust God that all will go well. Why don’t you lead us in prayer, then go home and play with Daniel’s baby?”

  The prayer he offered was deeper than any she’d ever heard, and Gwen’s heart broke to hear the anguish of Arthur’s soul.

  After he’d left, she stared at the bedroom door, and armed with a fresh cup of tea, she went to sit with her patient.

  Shortly thereafter, the sun dropped behind the horizon, and a brilliant crimson sky saw the day to a close. When darkness fell, and the shadows gave way to stars as they popped into the blue-blackness of the night, she closed the curtain. Gwen lit a lantern, turned the wick low, and placed it on the bureau. She pulled a warmer blanket over Daniel and bent to kiss him on the cheek. She even dared to brush his lips, but when a tear let go and landed on his face, she withdrew.

  “Oh, Daniel—please, wake up.”

  Gwen pulled the rocker closer to the bed, and covered herself with a blanket. The last thing she saw before sleep overtook her was the steady up and down of his chest, and she prayed for a healing rest to descend upon him.

  Chapter 12

  Sometime in the night, Gwen felt a presence, and her eyes bolted open to find Daniel staring at her silently. She bounded to her feet, the blanket dropped to the floor, and she clung to his hand.

  “Daniel,” she whispered. He continued to stare, and the short-lived enthusiasm died on her lips. “Daniel?”

  “That is my name,” came a low voice, barely audible.

  “And what is my name?” she asked, fear trembling through her words.