Memory of Morning

by Susan Sizemore

  "Most people have no use for free will. Refusing the vaccine merely helps keep the plague going."

  I glanced at a clock on the mantel. "If you want a debate, please stick me first and we can argue while I'm bleeding out."

  He did, and we did, and that was my first encounter with the difficult Dr. Heron.

  After he'd packed up and left I accepted some fruit juice from the nurse and, to my embarrassment, took a short nap. I might have preferred the procedure taking place in a clean room, but the sofa was certainly comfortable.

  Once I was certain I wasn't going to faint from dizziness or my arm fall off from the ache, I left this section of the Home, but not the large medical facility. I remembered the location of the administration building from when I was billeted on the base before deployment. I'd be staying on the base now if my family hadn't whisked me away to the luxury of Mrs. Lilac's.

  I spoke to two different yeomen, filled out a request, was interviewed by a naval staff doctor, and eventually sent over to the War Casualties Home, where I had worked before, and volunteered my services now. I didn't know how long we would be in Seyemouth, but there was no reason not to practice my needed profession while we were in town. Besides, the Casualties Home houses the copies of the complete journals turned in by every ship's surgeon, doctor, or medical assistant at the end of each voyage. I wanted access to study this treasure trove while awaiting my own certificate examination. I made my way to the library as soon as I was assigned a work schedule, rounds to begin the next day.

  The first thing I saw, before even glancing at the walls of shelves I hungered to explore, was the difficult Dr. Heron sitting at a table beneath a skylight. He looked engrossed. I didn't want him to notice me. The floor was of old, scoured wood. It was bound to creak, but if I tiptoed very slow--

  "So, you are finally here," he said, without looking up. He gestured to a stack of volumes on the table beside him. "These will interest you."

  I couldn't help but be curious. Besides, there was no escaping now. I sat down across the table from him and reached for the journals. He was right. They were exactly what I was looking for to begin my research.

  "We shall be study partners," he said.

  He didn't question things or persons, he just assumed that everything he wanted and stated was completely correct.

  "You need beating," I told him.

  "I have studied boxing and kick strike."

  "I am sure you have needed to."

  He finally glanced up from his reading. "We are both waiting for the certificate exam. We have had similar experiences. You will benefit from my expertise."

  I waited for him to say that he would benefit from my expertise. He didn't.

  "It will be convenient for us to study for the examination together."

  He was right. I wanted to argue, but only because Heron was the sort of person one automatically wanted to argue with.

  Instead, I gave his reasons a moment's thought and said, "Yes. All right."

  A decisive nod from Dr. Heron. "Good. Let us begin."

  I was mentally wrung out as well as physically exhausted by the time I made it back to Lilac House in the late afternoon. Also, very, very hungry. I wanted to pet my dog - or possibly eat my dog if no other source of protein was not immediately available - and settle in for a nice quiet evening with my family.

  As it turned out, this evening was going to be even more full of family than last evening had been. But not quiet.

  Tennit was home!

  He was safe and sound and as ebullient as ever. He'd also brought home a very pretty, pregnant young wife from the war. She was a marine sergeant. Her accent was pure East Loudon.

  Chapter Eight

  My first thought when Tennit introduced me to his dear Rassi was, This is going to be interesting.

  Needless to say, teatime that afternoon was a bit tense. But at least the drink we were served was proper black tea, brought home by the happy couple.

  "Rassi's a scrounger," Tennit said proudly as the tea was poured. "You can thank her for what you're about to drink."

  "I think we should thank the All," mother said. Then she tempered her sharpness with a thin smile at her new daughter-in-law. "And then we shall thank Mrs. Cliff."

  "How did you meet?" Bell wanted to know. She glanced briefly at Rassi's swollen abdomen. "And conduct a romance during a land campaign?"

  "You can't march all the time," Rassi answered.

  Tenn was holding Rassi's hand. He lifted it to his lips and kissed it. "She saved my life," he said. "Over and over and over. Sergeant Fisher - that's Rassi - was in charge of the medical unit I was assigned to."

  "You were not the commander?" father asked.

  "I had nothing to do with administration," Tenn said. "My job was to save lives. Rassi's job was to make sure I could do my job. She's very good at her job."

  "An administrator," mother said.

  "And a nurse," Tenn said. "The lass has many talents."

  And is smart and shrewd, I thought, watching her watching us. Were we going to be accepting, or was her relationship with Tennit making trouble for him with his family? Did we believe in meritocracy or merely pay it lip service as so many people did?

  "You're a Fisher?" I said. "Perhaps we are related. There are Fishers among our ancestors. Seven generations back a Fisher and a Baker married and managed to buy some land. Their children changed the family name to Cliff." It was the first step in the climb from yeoman into the gentry class. We had no records of how our yeomen ancestors had made their way up from the working class. Though I think we should be even prouder of that difficult effort.

  There was considerable silence after I spoke. We sipped tea. I ate more sweet biscuits and candied fruit than was good for me - but I was so happy to have decent food again.

  "My mother is a baker," Rassi said, bravely breaking the silence. "That is, she runs a bakery. My father was a stevedore on the Seye docks. He disappeared during the fire that took out most the Great Canal Quay when I was eight." She smiled. "We plan to name the baby after him if he's a boy."

  Mother leaned forward, a concerned cleric. "I am so sorry for your loss, child."

  "A grandchild," father said. He nodded. "I like that idea."

  "But I still don't know the details of how you came to be a couple." Belladem put down her cup and eyed her twin in a determined way. She stood. "Come along, you two. A walk in the garden will be good for us all - especially my new niece or nephew."

  Tennit rose and helped his wife up. Belladem turned that look on me.

  I still held an occupied dessert plate. "Go on," I said. "I'll join you when I'm finished."

  She reluctantly left me to my own agenda.

  I put the plate down after they were gone. I folded my hands in my lap and looked steadily at my tight-lipped mother. "Great grandmother," I said.

  Mother sat up stiffly. "Oh, really!" Her voice was tart as vinegar.

  "Great grandmother," I repeated.

  She glared. "I hardly think you need to insult me like that."

  Great grandmother Owl was hardly the family's favorite relative. But, then, her opinion of us was harsh and unforgiving. She'd been convinced her grand daughter had married so far beneath her that she ought to be cut off from any more contact with the Owls. It didn't work out that way, but the old woman's pride and downright meanness had been a thorn in mother's side, and painful to all of us. Personally, I would have been much happier on our visits to Welis if Great grandmother hadn't been forced to occasionally receive us. I cannot recall her ever actually looking me in the eye. I recall the one Winter Solstice gift she grudgingly gave the four of us Cliffs - thick woolen socks. Because, after all, peasant children needed such things to keep them warm for their winter chores.

  Mother put up a finger to stop me when I would have spoken again. "Don't you ever accuse me of being anything like that woman."

  "I did not observe the warmth of welcome flowing from you toward our new family m
ember."

  "I am very sorry for her losing her father."

  "Yes, I did notice that. But--"

  "I am disappointed. But her rank isn't what's important," mother insisted. She sighed. "That isn't it at all."

  "I think we should get the girl into a university program," father said. "If she can keep the likes of Tennit from tripping over his own feet, she'll be good at organizing entire institutions worth of scientists." I don't think father was paying attention to my and mother's conversation. He chuckled. "A grandchild. I do like that thought. Don't you, dear?"

  "Yes, dear," mother said. She continued looking a me.

  "What is it, then?" I asked her.

  She sighed. Then she gave a slight shrug. "It's just that I've talked myself into looking forward to showing my children off at the marriage market. You are a lovely group of prize sheep, you know, and ought to do very well at auction."

  Most people's mother would never say such a thing about the traditional courtship dance of our society. I laughed.

  She sighed. "Bell's betrothed, Tennit comes home already married. Now I only have you to show off. Not that you won't do me proud," she added quickly.

  "Maybe you can talk Alix into this scheme. Even if it's only to stand around looking handsome in his dress blues. He's certain to draw a crowd in any company." Alix is the best looking of the four of us, and he broods better than anyone I have ever met. "Young women are attracted to a brooding sort of man, I'm told."

  Whether he'd be attracted to any of them was the problem, as Alix Cliff had a broken heart and a good reason to brood. I had run into him when his ship and the Moonrunner were both docked at a remote repair station in the far southwest of the Empire. We'd had an evening together, along with a couple bottles of wine. He had still been far too serious and sad at the time - but that was nearly a year ago. Perhaps his wounded heart was scarring over a bit by now. We'd only find out once he finally made it home.

  Belladem was too excited to immediately drop off to sleep when we went to bed that night. It wasn't only having her twin brother at home. She'd also received two letters from her beloved Dwie. She'd let everyone in the family read the letters, but she went over the news again in detail to me when we settled in beside each other.

  I didn't mind that the bed wasn't moving tonight. Star was happy to lie down between me and Bell. The more people to potentially pet her the better, as far as the dog was concerned.

  I listened to Belladem for a while, made some appropriate sounds. Eventually, I said, "I want to visit a dressmaker tomorrow. I'm sure Mrs. Lilac can recommend someone."

  "I'm sure she can," Bell said. "But mother is planning on a major shopping campaign when we get to Loudon. Oh, are you thinking about Rassi? Yes, I suppose she needs some things. She can't wear a uniform now that she's out of the marines, and she'll outgrow it soon anyway."

  "Yes, I'm sure Rassi needs a civilian wardrobe, but I want a new frock for myself. Something dressy for daywear."

  "But mother brought you a formal dress."

  "It's beautiful, and I look forward to wearing it to a recital soon. But I want a serious dress. A dress suitable for the certificate examination."

  "Oh. Of course. I see." She was thoughtful for a bit before asking, "Why is it everything a woman wears is scrutinized and judged, or rather, why are we women judged by what we wear? Everyone can tell at a glance who and what we are by the quality of the material, the number of buttons, the width of lace on our dresses. It's silly."

  "It is, but I like clothes. I've spent two years in uniform. I like clothes even better now. Besides, I like to think of fashion as armor. We fight our battles with our dresses as well as in them. That's why I need a suitable dress for the examination."

  I remembered the discussions among all of us contracted women on board the ship about how a new type of fashion was needed to suitably dress women pursuing careers. I knew exactly what I wanted from such a new fashion, and had sketched it out. It would be blue, not the dark blue of a naval uniform, or the pale blue of a summer daydress, but a rich, saturated blue, with a pleated, off-center panel of ecru or cream that would show when I sat or walked, but not when I was standing still. The neckline would be square cut, but modestly high. I had acquired a silver filigree buckle on my travels. This buckle would be placed on the high waistline of the dress, just above the asymmetrical pleat. All I needed was a skilled seamstress who could make this dress a reality. It was certainly beyond my capacity to make.

  "And a bonnet," I said as I dropped off to sleep. "I need a new bonnet."

  Chapter Nine

  I shooed all the Cliff women out of Lilac House as early as I could the next morning, though I don't think I could have managed to roust my holidaying family from bed in a timely fashion without my new sister-in-law's help. Rassi proved wonderfully efficient in organizing the expedition, showing the advantage of having a marine sergeant in the family.

  I had time for one more errand before beginning my shift at Casualties. The dress shop Mrs. Lilac sent us to was open early, and I could tell from the moment we walked inside that it was also perfect for our needs. The available materials were many and varied. The seamstresses were as knowledgeable as the sample frocks displayed on mannequins throughout the space promised. Mother and Bell confirmed happily that the pattern books were of the latest fashions. I was disappointed to see drawings of flutter sleeved, and even sleeveless, ball gowns, but perhaps I wouldn't need a ball gown for this Season that was planned. This wasn't the time to consider future parties.

  Rassi and Bell were set upon with delight, mother with respect and tea in fine porcelain, and the owner of the shop helped me with my special order herself.

  She promised that there would be no problem converting my idea into a finished frock. She even asked permission to add the finished pattern drawing into her style book. I thanked her, and was flattered enough to tell her I would think about it. I selected materials in the exact shades I'd dreamed about, had what seemed like an endless amount of measurements taken, and was given an appointment to return for a fitting.

  Satisfied for myself, I spared some time to check on the others. I found mother benignly gazing upon Bell and Rassi, who were giggling together. I knew for a fact that Bell was not the giggling sort normally, and doubted Rassi was, but I believe the opportunity to play dress-up will do that to even the most dour of women.

  Plans were already underway for three daydresses and an evening dress for Rassi, designed to be let out as her pregnancy progressed. She was blond and fair skinned and it turned out she looked lovely in pink, which happened to also be her favorite color. Rassi was delighted with the prospect of a new civilian wardrobe, but I think she was even more excited at finding out how Tennit would like her looking like a proper woman.

  My sisters were adorable together, discussing Tenn and Dwie and love and life. They were already friends, since they had being so deeply in love they couldn't see straight in common. Their mutual enthusiasm made me feel old, and I was the youngest of the three of us. I didn't even have the excuse of having been to war to make me feel old and cynical, as Rassi has taken part in the bloody Partra Islands campaign which goes on and on, and had likely seen more bloodshed than me. I wished I had the time to stay with them and work my way into the spirit of the moment, but I had to bid my family farewell instead.

  I made a quick stop at the milliner's next door, and decided to save my last errand for later. As it was, I had to practically run to make the beginning of my shift on time. The work at the Home was no different from post-operative treatment on shipboard after a battle, except that there was more of it. In a way, it was worse. This was a place for those who had lived through injury, but were not necessarily going to heal, or had much chance of long-term survival.

  I was put to work in a dark and dismal ward overcrowded with too many beds full of amputees suffering long-term infections. I'd been away from the stench, the moans, the broken bodies, and the haggard faces for a few days
. I didn't welcome returning to this world, but it was home. I spent the next six hours doing assessments, prescribing treatments, and scheduling follow-up surgeries. No one questioned my authority even though I did mention that I was not yet officially certified. I suppose they considered that this ward was for the hopeless, and any help was appreciated.

  Much of the suffering I encountered here was the result of incompetent or inadequate medical care. The waste depressed me, but I was relieved that the ignorant, self-important anger that had filled me when I'd first entered this place as a new recruit had no hold on my spirit now. I knew now that while not all doctors practiced the newer methods I was so sure of, I had learned by experience and contact that people did the best they could with what they knew. Not every ship had a doctor, fewer still a qualified surgeon. Trained nurses were equally hard to come by. The navy tried hard to care for its sailors. I might be impatient to make it all better, but I was proud of the service.

  I brought all this philosophizing up to Dr. Heron when we met in the library. He offered me a cynical lift of his perfectly arched brow. "You are going to re-up," he said.

  Was I?

  I shook my head. "I have to think about that."

  "You want to be a ship's medical officer."

  I laughed, a bit hysterically, but softly, as we were in a library. "Commit to being a captain's conscience? I don't know if I'll ever be ready for that."

  He leaned back in his chair and looked at me as though he thought I was mad. "You don't really believe all that nonsense about caring for crew and captain above and beyond the vows of the god of healing do you? I have no intention of giving my heart and soul to my captain once I'm assigned to a ship."