by Dalia Wright
Molly pulled her hands away, but not before she’d taken notice of how smooth his skin was and how firm the muscles of his chest were. He was cold and slightly clammy, but that was probably just fear. She didn’t find fear to be something a person should be ashamed of. In her eyes, it was perfectly reasonable. Fear kept a person from being foolish. Maybe if there were more fear, there would be fewer wars.
Not very many men saw the logic in her statements, but she held out hope that maybe her little speeches would make a difference somehow.
“Now,” she said. “If you can promise me that you’ll remain calm and in your bed, I’ll go and get your chart.”
He cleared his throat. “Thank you. And...a glass of water?”
“I’ll do what I can.”
She walked down the hall, patting Nell briefly on the shoulder and giving her an encouraging smile. Molly realized that she hadn’t asked him his name. She had to find the chart by room number.
Bennett was the name scrawled across the folder. She opened it and flicked through the information. A concussion. Worries that his ribs might be bruised...she doubted that, with the way he’d been moving around. She suddenly remembered seeing the lean muscles of his back sliding under his tanned skin and cleared her throat, shaking her head slightly. What was she thinking of?
A glance down at the bottom of his chart helped pull her mind away from his looks. He’d been shot in the leg and there were concerns of infection. It had been been hours before the wound had been properly cleaned because the medic had been trying to help men who were even more seriously injured. Apparently there had only been one medic stationed at Kimberley when the siege began. Molly chewed her lip for a moment, then squared her shoulders and went back into his room.
He’d pulled the covers back up in her absence and he was lying very still with his hands clasped to either side of his head. She realized that she’d forgotten his drink and waved Nell toward her, asking her for a small cup of water. “Or some ice, if you can get it.”
Nell hurried away and Molly stepped into the room. “Mr. Bennett?”
He lowered his hands and moved to sit up.
“No need,” she said with a small smile. “We don’t stand on ceremony here.”
Thad lowered his head to the pillow behind him. It was a little flat, but it was better than nothing. He’d already had plenty of nothing while he was at Kimberley, she knew.
“I’m sorry,” he said after a moment as she opened his chart again. “For shouting.”
“It’s not me you owe that apology to,” Molly said gently. “It’s Nell.”
“I’ll be sure to tell her,” he said earnestly. “If I haven’t frightened her away for good.”
She smiled again. “Nurses are resilient people, Mr. Bennett.”
Just as she spoke, Nell stepped into the room with a cup of ice. Thaddeus took it, but before he even took a piece, he said, “I’m sorry for shouting at you. It wasn’t right of me.”
Her whole face blushed red as the sunset and she stammered out that it was all right before turning on her heel and heading out of the room. Thad looked chagrined.
“I don’t know if I did much good,” he said, running one hand over his hair, making it stand up in an unruly way.
Molly tightened her grip on the chart to keep from fixing it for him. That wasn’t in her nursing duties after all. She had to go over the chart with him. There was no avoiding it.
“All right,” she said, looking down at the chart. “According to this, Mr. Bennett--”
“Please,” he said, interrupting her. “My name is Thaddeus. Most people call me Thad.”
“Thaddeus,” she repeated, liking the way the name sounded. “Very well.” She held out her hand. “I’m Molly Alexander.”
Chapter Five:
As he took her small hand in his, he felt a new sensation. It wasn’t pain. He really noticed for the first time how pretty she was.
She had a petite, fine boned figure, almost like something out of his mother’s china cabinet. But there was a deep reserve of strength in those wide hazel eyes. He’d seen the same look in the eyes of the men he’d fought beside. The ones who never lost their cool, no matter what turns the battles took. Of course, it was prettier on her. She had a thick blonde braid pulled over one shoulder and the typical long white dress and apron did a lot for her slight figure.
Thad suddenly realized how filthy he was. Her skin was so clean. He was still covered in the godawful dust from the battlefield. There was mud under his nails and he was sure that his face was no better. He let go of her hand and shook a piece of ice into his mouth.
He couldn’t hold back a groan of pleasure as it hit his parched tongue and began to melt. There’d been no ice in Kimberley. He crunched down on the piece in his mouth and took a few more. Then the nurse reached out and took the cup from him.
“Not too much at once,” she said. “You’ve been unconscious for a while.”
“How long?” he asked, worried suddenly.
“Almost three days,” she said, glancing at his chart.
“Oh.” Thad was palpably relieved. In response to her questioning look, he said, “I was afraid you were going to tell me that it was 1910.”
Molly laughed, which pleased him. “No, nothing so dramatic,” she said. “Just a few days rest.” Then she cleared her throat and said, “Now, if you’d like, I can go over your chart with you.”
Her hazel eyes had darkened and become more serious. Thad nodded, suddenly worried about what she might tell him.
“You had a concussion,” Molly began. “Which explains the pain in your head. That will ease over time. They were concerned about bruising on your ribs, but from the way you were moving around earlier--”
He cleared his throat and glanced down. “My ribs don’t hurt.”
She offered a quick grin, flashing a dimple in her left cheek. “I thought not.” Then she took a deep breath and said, “You were shot in the leg.”
He nodded. He thought that he vaguely remembered feeling a hot pain in his calf just before it had all gone dark.
“Not the worst place in the world to take a bullet,” he said, partly because he really believed it and partly because he wanted her to see that he could keep a stiff upper lip.
“No,” Molly said gently. “It’s not. But there may be complications.”
Thad’s hands went tighter on the sheets. “What kind of complications?”
“The bullet was there for a long time,” she said. “There’s a type of lubricant that the Boer use to pack their rifles that can cause a lot of problems in wounds. There’s also how long it took to get the wound properly cleaned. There’s...” She swallowed and forced her voice to stay steady. “There’s a chance that we won’t be able to contain the infection and the lower part of your leg will have to be removed.”
Removed? His leg? He stared at her. He hadn’t even thought of that possibility. He’d always assumed that if a limb needed to be removed it had to be done quickly. Now he just had to wait around for them to let him know if he was going to be whole for the rest of his life?
“I’m sorry,” she said quietly. “I know it’s a lot to think about. I have a few other patients to check on, so I’ll leave you for now.” This was no time for news of his regiment, even if the news wasn’t awful.
Thad managed a nod and she got to her feet. Before she left, she put her hand on his shoulder. He glanced up at her, but she didn’t speak, just left her warm hand there for a moment. He liked the feel of her soft skin against his. Even somewhere as innocent as his shoulder.
However, when the door closed behind her, he couldn’t help but wonder what kind of woman would be interested in him if he was missing a piece of his body. His headache had raged back to the front of his skull and he pressed his fingers against his eyes, holding them there until little spots of light danced like sparks in the darkness he’d created.
The hospital was cold compared the climate he’d just come from, so he
pulled the blankets tighter around him. The sheets, though they were clean, weren’t exactly snow white. He wondered how many other soldiers had slept on them, bled on them, lost limbs in this very bed.
His chest got tight and his head ached even more. Finishing the cup of ice, Thad put his arm over his eyes to shut out the late afternoon sun and forced himself to go to sleep. Though he tried to keep her out of his mind, Molly’s face was the last thing he saw before sleep claimed him...and it was more comforting than he wanted to admit.
Chapter Six:
As she walked down the hall to replace Thaddeus Bennett’s chart, Molly saw Doctor Silas at the other end of the hall.
“Hello, Molly,” he said, walking up to meet her as she slid the file back into its section. “We haven’t seen much of each other lately.”
“I suppose not,” she agreed.
“Let’s get a cup of coffee.”
She followed him down to the canteen and allowed him to make her coffee. He invariably made it too sweet. Molly watched him take a seat across the table from her. She’d been astounded when he’d asked if he could call on her several weeks ago. It was still surprising.
He was a young man and already going places. He was the best doctor in the hospital and most of the nurses were attracted to him...his icy blue eyes and his blonde hair were hard to miss. The trouble with both of those things was that he knew it. He knew he was the best doctor and he knew that most of the women adored him.
After several outings, Molly had discovered that she didn’t have much to say to him. He never wanted to talk about work. Or, if he did, it was to say that it was a shame that such a “beautiful girl had to see such awful things.” That had bothered her so much that it had been hard to finish that evening. She hadn’t seen him again since.
The war was terrible, but nursing was what she was meant to do. She was sure of it. And being called a girl infuriated her. She was twenty four years old. A woman, not an incompetent child at play!
“That’s quite a frown,” Charles said.
Molly smoothed out her features and said, “I’m sorry. There’s a soldier just out of the Kimberley siege in room 356. He might lose his leg.”
“Hmm,” Charles said, sipping his coffee. “That’s a shame.”
He didn’t look like he was honestly affected by it, though. He didn’t seem to be affected by any of it. That bothered her too.
“I thought I’d call on you tomorrow night,” he said.
She looked up in surprise. “No,” Molly said quickly and saw him frown. She moderated her tone. “I’m sorry, but I’m picking up an extra shift.”
His frown grew deeper. “I didn’t see your name on the board.”
“Not yet,” she said evenly. “But it will be there. There are some patients that are at critical stages. I’d like to see them through.”
“I see.” Jaw clenched tight, he pushed back his chair. “Perhaps I’ll see if someone else wants to accompany me on the evening I had planned.”
Molly didn’t bother to respond. She’d given him a fair shot, mainly at her parent’s urging, but it wasn’t going to work out. He worked at the hospital for the adulation and the money. She worked for the moment when a person left feeling better than they had when they came in. She was perfectly content spending her spare evenings in the company of her books if it meant that she didn’t have to listen to Doctor Charles Silas go on about himself for hours on end.
Chapter Seven:
Two days later, Thad leaned over, trying to reach the newspaper that had been left on the side table. His fingertips grazed it. The paper fell to the floor in an explosion of pages.
He bit back a curse. He was back in civilian life now and he needed to start getting a handle on his vocal habits again. He leaned further out of his bed, gritting his teeth at the pain in his leg.
Just a little more, just a little more...he lost his balance and swore. Then soft but firm hands grabbed his shoulder and pulled him back to safety.
“Why are you so determined to throw yourself on the floor?” Molly asked him with a smile.
“I wanted to read the paper,” Thad replied with as much dignity as he could muster. It wasn’t much. He had only seen her for a moment yesterday, and he’d thought about her all day.
She bent over and scooped it up, rearranging it carefully before handing it back to him. “There you go. Although, it really should wait.”
“Do you need to take blood?” he asked suspiciously.
She laughed her musical laugh. “No. I’m actually going to get you cleaned up.”
“That sounds...” It took him a second to realize that she was pushing a cart with two basins of water on it. There was also a bar of soap and a sponge. She meant to bathe him. “I don’t think that’s necessary,” he said.
“I’m afraid it is,” she countered calmly, dropping the soap into one of the basins and then soaking the sponge. “Down with the sheet. I’ll change your bed after, of course.”
He held onto the sheet like grim death. “Really, it’s fine.”
She tugged the sheet free. She was surprisingly strong.
“Really, it’s not,” she said bluntly. “The cleanest part of you is your injured leg and that simply won’t do.”
He did feel disgustingly grimy. Which was part of his objection. He did not want her seeing him like that. At least, not all of him.
“Could you get another nurse?” he asked.
She stopped, sponge in hand. Her face wore a wounded expression. “Of course, if you’re not comfortable with me--”
“It’s not...exactly that.”
Molly dipped the sponge in the water again. “Very well. Then let's go ahead and get started.”
“No!”
“Why?” she asked, frustrated.
“Because I might not...I might not remain a gentleman. I...find you very attractive.” He felt the base of his neck go red as he forced the words out. “Of course, I don’t expect you to reciprocate in any way. I just thought that you should know.”
“Head back,” she said briskly, wetting his hair and beginning to lather it up.
Thad closed his eyes so that he didn’t have to watch her reject him. To his surprise, she kept silent as she washed his hair. She didn’t rush either, running her fingers through his hair, scrubbing thoroughly. It felt better than he had thought it would.
“Lean forward,” she said, still businesslike.
He did as she asked and she poured a cup of warm water over his head, rinsing his hair. He sighed with relief as he sat upright again. Finally, no more dust.
“Come now, chin up,” Molly said, wetting a cloth and beginning to scrub at his face. “Thank you.”
As his skin came clean of sweat, blood, and dust, he swore that it was easier to breathe. Then her hands moved down, sponging his neck and shoulders, then working down his back. She worked without speaking, rinsing the sponge often.
He couldn’t help but glance at her as she worked her way down. She didn’t look disgusted by the dirt. She moved gently, but firmly.
“What did you do?” she asked. “In the military, that is.”
“Rifleman,” he replied after a moment. It had taken him that long to remember the word. No one had ever touched him the way she was and he was desperate not to make a fool of himself.
“Is it a hard job?”
The sponge swept over his chest and he focused on keeping his breathing regular. “No. Well. Yes. It can be. One has to have the aptitude for it.”
“And you did?”
Another sweep of the sponge over his chest. She seemed to be paying particular attention to it. Another glance. Her hazel eyes were wide. Was that appreciation he saw there? It became even harder to breathe.
“Yes,” Thad answered. “I did. Though, I don’t know what I’ll do now.”
She rinsed the sponge and stroked it down the center of his stomach. He held back a shiver.
“Are you cold?” Molly asked quickly. “I can get some mo
re hot water--”
“I’m not cold,” he said honestly.
“Oh.” She dragged the sponge along his abdomen. “I’m sure you’ll find something else,” she said and he knew that he wasn’t imagining the waver in her voice. At least he wasn’t the only one who was nervous. “You’re an intelligent man.”
“You are too. Well, an intelligent woman. Obviously.”
The dimple in her cheek flashed and then he felt the sponge descend even lower. He knew Molly saw him go tense. He clenched the sheets in his fists and tried to think of something other than her hands.
“How did you get into this line of work?” he asked, his voice so loud that she jumped slightly.
“Felt right,” she said, moving on down once he was clean. “And...” She felt that she could admit it to him. “I felt that it was the closest I’d ever come to being a doctor.”
“You want to be a doctor?”
She raised her chin. “Yes.”
He nodded. “You’d make a fine one, Molly.”
A flush of color crept up from the high color of her dress. “Do you think so?”
“Cool under pressure and the strength of someone at least twice your size? Yes, I think so,” he said, gently teasing. He won a smile that warmed him straight down to his bones. Not that he wasn’t warm enough. The room had grown steadily hotter over the course of the day.
Chapter Eight:
Molly called Hannah in to help her move Thaddeus and change the bed clothes. He sat in a chair while Molly whipped the wet sheets off of the bed and stretched clean, dry ones on. Then she and Hannah helped him back into the bed.
