The Forgotten Home Child

by Genevieve Graham

  “Hold on, Jack.”

  White-hot agony shot through him when Edward rolled him to his side then put him back. Through the growing fog in his mind, he heard Edward yell at another soldier to come and help.

  “Push here. Hard,” Edward ordered the man, and Jack cried out at the pressure. Then Edward lowered his face to Jack’s. “Listen, Jack. We have to stop the bleeding. The bullet went right through, which is good. Means I don’t have to go look for it. And I think it missed all the important bits, which is even better.”

  “The bad news?” Jack asked huskily.

  “This is going to hurt like hell.”

  He gritted his teeth, trying not to howl as Edward packed his wound tightly then wrapped him round and round with a bandage. Stars danced in his vision.

  Poor Edward, he thought vaguely, following the stars. Losing two of us in one day.

  twenty-eight WINNY

  Winny knelt on the sidewalk, pasting a bright smile onto her face as she tucked Billy’s shirt into his trousers and adjusted his collar, though it was already fine.

  “Well, my big boy,” she said, patting his tummy. “Here we are. Your first day at school. You’ll have so much fun.”

  Billy nodded, all business. How she loved that little face. When he laughed, he was Jack all over again, and when he cried, she saw Mary’s broken soul. Right now he was the spitting image of his uncle, and she could see stars dancing in his eyes.

  “I’m excited.”

  “I’m sure you are.” She flinched when the school bell rang in the yard, then she held on to her smile for dear life. “And you’re going to show everyone how smart you are. I’m very proud of you, Billy. Can I have a hug?”

  He wrapped his arms around her neck, squeezing hard on purpose so she’d make her funny groan for him.

  “Why are you crying, Mummy?”

  She wiped the telltale tears away. “Oh, Billy. It’s just that I’ll miss you.”

  “Don’t worry, Mummy. I’ll see you tonight.”

  “You’re right. Remember, when school is over, you wait right by the door and Esther will come for you.”

  “Okay.” He turned toward the school, glancing back over his shoulder one more time. “Bye, Mummy!”

  She stayed until he disappeared inside along with all the other children, then she walked determinedly toward the hospital, trying to keep her mind on work instead of the little boy she was leaving behind.

  When she walked into the nurses’ room, Charlotte was there with two others from the night shift, changing out of their uniforms. She was fastening the buttons of a pretty dress she’d made, its skirt a muted wave of autumn leaves.

  “Off to see Jeffrey?”

  She nodded, checking her hair in the mirror, then she leaned in to apply the perfect shade of lipstick. “We’re having breakfast together. Do you know, if we were married, this would be almost our fourth anniversary?”

  “I was just thinking how quickly time passes,” Winny replied, doing up her own buttons. Selfishly, she was glad nurses weren’t allowed to be married, because she hated to think of losing her roommate, but she did feel sorry for Charlotte. She and Jeffrey were so obviously in love.

  “Did Billy get off to his first day of school all right?”

  “He could hardly wait to say goodbye.”

  Charlotte’s smile was sympathetic. “Jeffrey says he wants to introduce you to his lawyer friend, Stephen.”

  “That sounds… nice,” Winny said. The last time Jeffrey had introduced her to anyone it had been a terrible flop. Not too many men were interested in dating a single mother, she’d found. Even though Billy had been an absolute angel every time she introduced men to her son, and even though she told them she was a war widow, they weren’t interested in carrying that kind of added weight.

  “I know that tone,” Charlotte said, heading to the door. “Well, I’m off. I’ll see you at home later. I’ll be there to spell off Esther after seven. Have a good shift.”

  She knew Charlotte was only trying to help, but the truth was Winny didn’t mind being single. Her only family in the whole world was Billy, and that was fine with her. Just like Charlotte, he wasn’t even with his real mother. But unlike Charlotte, he didn’t know that.

  Winny checked her face in the mirror, then went right to work, checking on the patients on her floor, starting with poor Private Hinton. Most of the man’s lower jaw and tongue had been blown off somewhere in France. She couldn’t imagine what he’d gone through before he’d finally arrived here. The hospital’s plastic surgeon was in the process of completing some delicate and fragile reconstruction, but healing took time, and poor Private Hinton was wont to tear off his bandages as soon as his latest nurse turned her back. Winny assumed that had something to do with whatever was going on in his mind, which had to be something awful. It was rare to see a man in here who didn’t suffer from the types of wounds a bandage could not help. It didn’t matter how many times or how tightly she bound him up, Private Hinton eventually tore the covering off and made himself worse. He’d done it again this morning, she saw, reaching into her cart for a fresh wad of bandages.

  “Wouldn’t you like to get out of here one day?” she said gently as she tended him. “If you’d let it heal, we could take you out of doors in a wheelchair, and you could breathe fresh air again.”

  He answered with a grunt. Given the state of his face and the condition of his mind, Winny was fairly sure he would never say anything coherent again. She pushed the tragic thought from her mind and moved to the next bed.

  “Good afternoon,” she said cheerily, pulling back the curtain.

  “If you say so,” her patient replied.

  Private Shuman had come in a day earlier after being hit by a streetcar. According to reports, he’d been on shore leave and toasting everyone on the street with a mostly empty bottle of whisky at the time. Winny’s heart went out to the extremely pale young man. His eyes were filled with far too many memories of war, and now he’d have to cope with a badly mangled leg as well.

  “Which hurts worse, your leg or your head?” she teased, slipping a thermometer under his tongue.

  He gave her a sheepish shrug. She extracted the thermometer and examined the numbers: 99.3. That was fine.

  “With the whisky I didn’t feel much of the leg pain.”

  “I see your point. However, without the whisky you wouldn’t have any leg pain at all,” she reminded him. “I’ve brought you some aspirin for now, but the surgeon will be here in about an hour, and he’ll have more to tell you.”

  His expression grew serious. “Do you think I’m gonna lose my leg, Nurse?”

  “I’m in no position to offer an opinion,” she said, avoiding his eyes. “I’m sorry. But the surgeon will be here soon. He’s very good. Oh, and you have a visitor.”

  “I do?”

  “Do you recall giving the nurse a telephone number last night?”

  He searched his memory and came up empty.

  “Your mother. She’s just outside.”

  He closed his eyes. “She’s not gonna be impressed.”

  “She’ll be glad you’re still alive to scold. I’ll send her in.”

  From what she’d seen on his chart, Winny feared the young man was indeed facing amputation, but it wasn’t up to her to tell him the dreaded truth. What an awful thing—for him to have survived the war intact only to ruin it during his brief sojourn at home.

  Major Antonici was propped up at the next bed, dark eyes twinkling, his right leg suspended in a cast. “Good morning, Nurse Beautiful.”

  “You are looking much better!” she exclaimed. “How’s the leg today?”

  “Itchy as ever. Think you could get your fingers in there, give it a scratch?”

  She laughed. “You are such a charmer, Major Antonici.”

  “Marco! Please!”

  “All right. You are such a charmer, Marco. I’ll see if I can find a knitting needle you can poke around in there. Here’s your aspirin
and water. Are you hungry?”

  “Could eat a horse.”

  “Another good sign. If you keep this up, you could be leaving here sooner than I thought.”

  He feigned a pout. “Maybe I’d better slow down. I’m only just getting to know the prettiest nurse in the hospital.”

  “Miss Ellis?”

  Winny turned toward Miss Applegate, the head nurse. She was an older woman, nearly a head shorter than Winny, with a kind but toad-like face.

  “Yes, ma’am?”

  “Can you cover a few more patients today, dear? Constance is not feeling particularly well.”

  Winny nodded dutifully. As tired as she was of the long hours, it was still somewhat of a novelty to be asked politely for anything. “Of course.”

  “Thank you,” she replied, indicating with one hand. “It’s these beds here. A fresh batch of wounded soldiers. They arrived yesterday.”

  Winny nodded. Whether they were wrapped in bandages, hot with fevers, or cold with resignation, it never got any easier to see their misery. She crossed the room to the beds Miss Applegate had pointed out and opened the first curtain. The man in the bed was lying on his side, his back to her, but she could tell he wasn’t sleeping.

  “Good morning,” she said, and he began to roll toward her. She checked the chart. Gunshot through the abdomen, she read, but it was pretty much healed. Just here for observation overnight. “Dr. Andrews will be in to see you in about an hour, and he’ll tell you what to expect. Are you in pain, Mr.… Miller?”

  She glanced up from the chart and met his eyes.

  “It’s you,” he whispered.

  At first she just stared. Then the lines under his eyes fell away, his dark whiskers melted into the smooth skin of a boy no more than sixteen years old. A boy she had always loved and never forgotten.

  She sucked in her breath. “Jack?”

  twenty-nine JACK

  Blood rushed to Jack’s head, and he curled his fingers around the sides of the cot, needing to steady himself. Winny. He blinked, clearing the daze from his eyes. Was she real? He had so many dreams these days, but none of them were like this. He needed to look her in those big brown eyes, make sure she wasn’t a hallucination.

  “I…” Words stuck in his throat. “I thought…”

  “Is it really you?” Her voice was almost a whisper. She was clutching his chart tightly against her chest, frozen in place, and a lifetime of emotions flickered through her shining eyes. “I never thought I’d see you again.”

  “Me neither.” He couldn’t look away. “Come here, Irish,” he said softly, falling easily into the old nickname. He suddenly needed to touch her. Needed proof. He opened his hands for an embrace, but she hesitated, her gaze going to the bandage on his stomach.

  “Are you all right?” she asked. “I mean it says on here that you are, but…”

  “I’d be better with a hug from you.”

  Setting the chart to the side, she carefully lowered herself to the edge of his bed. “Don’t sit up. Your stitches—”

  “They’re all healed up. Come here, Winny.”

  He could hardly breathe as her arms wrapped around his neck, and her soft, cool skin touched his. His cheek found a spot behind her nurse’s cap where he could nestle among those wild curls of hers, and he felt his heart ease.

  It was the first time he’d felt like himself in years.

  “I’ve missed you very much,” he whispered.

  She leaned slightly back, wiping tears from her eyes. “Oh, Jack. Where did you go?”

  His joy turned to sand, jamming in his throat as the memory of his last morning in Toronto returned. How he’d left her behind. How he’d promised to find her then betrayed her instead, running off out west then sailing overseas. He couldn’t answer.

  She glanced at his bandage. “Am I hurting you?”

  “I don’t even feel it anymore.”

  “You look good,” she said, touching his cheek with trembling fingertips. “I had wondered if you went to war.”

  “Never could resist a fight, could I?” He took her hand from his face and held it in both of his. One question pounded in his chest. “Mary. Do you know where she is?”

  She took a breath to speak, then he saw something shift behind her eyes, and a twinge of concern quivered through him. She never used to keep secrets from him.

  She shook her head. “They took her away first.”

  He couldn’t picture that. Couldn’t imagine the two girls being separated. “You were alone?” he asked, and his sense of shame deepened. “Did you… did you manage all right?”

  “It… got better over time. After all, here I am.”

  “Nurse Ellis?” A short, round woman had approached on the other side of Jack’s bed. Her mouth was a wide, straight line.

  Winny jumped to her feet. “I’m sorry, Miss Applegate. It’s just… This is Jack. I grew up with him. It’s been a very, very long time since I’ve seen him, and—”

  The woman’s smile stretched thinly, but not unpleasantly. “Nice to meet you, Private Miller.” She turned to Winny. “Private Miller’s injury will not keep him here long. You have a lot of patients to see to, especially since you are covering for Constance. Perhaps you could continue your conversation outside of hospital hours.” She faced Jack again. “Sorry to cut this short, but Nurse Ellis has work to do.”

  “Of course,” Jack replied, his heart sinking. “I didn’t mean to take up her time.”

  Miss Applegate moved on, and Winny stood back, hugging his chart under her chin again. “I still can’t believe you’re here. Right here, with me.” She touched the back of his hand, and he turned it over so their fingers could link. “I really can’t.”

  “We can see each other after this, can’t we?” he asked, his words coming out in a rush. After all this time, he couldn’t lose her again.

  “Oh Jack. You couldn’t chase me away.” She smiled, bringing out the sun. “I’ll come back later and hear what the doctor has to say. Then we can figure out what to do next.”

  She turned away reluctantly, and he watched her lean over the other patients, tending to their needs. He listened to her cheerful voice singing with encouragement as she moved from bed to bed. She looked so sure of herself, so grown up, and he wondered what she thought of him.

  He was very different from the boy she had waved goodbye to seven years before. Back then, he’d been apprehensive about leaving England, but he’d always harboured a sense of optimism about Canada. Mary hadn’t, and now he knew she’d been right. Everything that had happened since then had taught him that life was hard, and he’d become just as hard in order to survive it.

  When he’d first woken up in the medic tent before being shipped back to England for treatment, all he could see was Edward crying over Cecil’s lifeless body. Cecil was gone; he’d left his brother behind. And then, so had Jack. He’d abandoned his last friend back in the barren mountains of Sicily, surrounded by Germans. When he had felt well enough, Jack had written to Edward, but he hadn’t heard back. He didn’t like to wonder why.

  Winny drifted past, writing something as she walked. It was so strange seeing her here. Life had torn all of them apart from each other so many times. Losing them, finding them, losing them again was like picking at an open wound. But today offered hope. If he and Winny could find each other, maybe they could find Mary, too. Maybe they could all try to heal together. For the first time in a long while, he reached for the possibility of happiness. When Winny looked up at him from across the room and smiled, warmth flooded his heart, and he felt it filling in the cracks, softening the hard places.

  thirty WINNY

  Winny stood at the end of the hall, her hands deep in her coat pockets. She had to purposefully hold them there because her nerves were taking over, and she didn’t know what else to do with them.

  After examining Jack, Dr. Andrews had told Winny that he was surprisingly healthy considering the gravity of his wound, and he was considering releasi
ng him right away if he could count on Winny’s being on hand. He understood they were old friends, and after all, the hospital was always short on beds and long on patients.

  “Of course, Doctor,” she’d replied, then she’d telephoned Jeffrey to see if Jack could stay with him until he could find a place of his own.

  Jeffrey had agreed as she’d known he would. “But if he’s anything like me, he won’t take charity. Tell him I have a job for him to do when he’s well enough. To pay for his room.”

  “What job?”

  “I’ll think of something. I’ve been meaning to build a shed in the yard…”

  Charlotte had a good man, Winny thought for the hundredth time. “That sounds perfect,” she said. “But Jeffrey, I need to ask you another favour, and it’s really important. The thing is, I’m not ready to tell Jack about Billy. I need you to keep Billy secret.”

  “I don’t understand. Didn’t you say Jack was the boy’s uncle?”

  “He is, but I haven’t told him anything yet. You have to give me time to figure that out.”

  “Winny, my lips are sealed. It is your secret to keep or share. If the subject ever comes up, I’m deaf and dumb as a doorknob. But if I were you, I wouldn’t keep it from him for too long.”

  When she told Jack she’d found him a place to stay, something in his eyes shifted. “He sounds like a good bloke. I’m glad you have a man like him around.”

  “Jeffrey’s a very good friend,” she said lightly. “He has been going steady with my roommate for years.”

  His brow lifted. “Oh, I see. Well, thanks for doing that, Winny.”

  She smiled, pleased the unexpected tension was gone. “I’ll meet you at the reception desk after you’re dressed and ready to go, all right?”

  So now she waited, and her thumb covertly picked at her ring fingernail. It’s just Jack. Nothing to be concerned about. But there was. They couldn’t just fall back into how they’d always been, could they? Not when she had to keep such big secrets from him. To Winny, secrets had always felt like lies, and they ate her up inside. But she’d made Mary a promise. She intended to keep that promise, even after all this time.