A Widow's Salvation (Cotillion Ball Saga Book 8)

by Becky Lower

  He moved to the hallway, the staging area for all the incoming critically wounded. The air was foul with decaying bodies, the metallic scent of blood, and stifling air. He had to examine each man and assign them a number in his head, the most precarious being dealt with first. He needed to assess if the wounds were lethal and the men were to be left alone to die on the floor in the hot hallway, or if he had a chance to save a life. One battered body after another was searched for wounds, and he realized, if he were lucky today, he might be able to save most of them, even though it meant untold hours in the operating room. He motioned for his assistants to take the first man to the operating room.

  When he turned around, his breath whooshed out of his body. Mrs. Brown, in a pale green-sprigged dress, stood in front of him. She reminded him of a spring day. His afternoon had gotten brighter in an instant.

  “Good day, Colonel.”

  “It’s nice to see you again, Mrs. Brown. In a short time, you’ve become one of the most loyal volunteers and for that, the men and I thank you.”

  “It’s the least I can do. I see you have your hands full this morning with these poor men.” She cast her gaze over the bodies in the hallway.

  “It’s my job. I must get to the operating room right now.”

  “And I’ll stay here with these most critical men and try to ease their pain a bit.”

  “The mere sight of you will do them a world of good, Mrs. Brown. Thank you for your assistance.”

  His step was a bit lighter as he walked toward the operating room, from which he wouldn’t emerge until late in the night.

  Hours later, Elijah shrugged his shoulders and stretched his back. The last of this batch of men was done. They’d all come through surgery. Now if infection stayed away, and the flies, they might have a chance. He washed his hands, cleaning the remaining blood from them, and splashed water on his face. He finally left the operating room, hoping to spend a few moments in his office.

  He immediately ran into the lovely countenance of Mrs. Brown. She waited outside the operating room, seemingly for him. But her dress was lavender, not green-sprigged.

  “Why are you still here?” He smiled at her. “Not that I’m complaining, but you’ve been here for hours.”

  “I’m not still here. I went home yesterday, took care of my children, slept, and now I’m back again.”

  He blinked and raised a suspicious eyebrow. “You mean it’s been more than twenty-four hours since we last spoke?” At her nod, he continued. “I confess I lose all track of time when I’m in the operating room. Well, welcome back, Mrs. Brown. That explains the change in your dress. As I remember, you had on a green-sprigged gown when I last was in your presence.”

  She ran her hands over her gown and glanced at the floor before lifting her eyes again. She seemed surprised by the comment. Even though she was a widow, had no one told her recently she was lovely?

  “Why, Colonel, I’m flattered you remember the gown I was wearing yesterday. I came back today so I could be here when you finally emerged from the operating room. The nurses told me you often work around the clock, and they obviously know your patterns well. I’m guessing your plans are now to head into the recovery rooms and check on those men you operated on, instead of taking a bit of a break.”

  “Well, yes. You’ve described my usual routine.”

  She wrapped an arm around his and began to lead him away from the ward and toward his office. He shortened his normal long stride when he noticed how she hurried to keep up with him.

  “You’ve been on your feet for hours, with no sleep or food. How can you take care of these men if you don’t first take care of yourself? When I realized you were not coming out of the operating room until the last man was cared for, I went home and had a meal prepared for you.”

  “You did what?”

  She stood in the doorway to his office and smiled at him. She motioned to a basket sitting on top of his desk, covered with a napkin. “My cook is one of the best in New York City. Since I don’t trust you’ll take the time to sit and do her meal justice, I guess I’ll have to stand guard here with you and make certain you finish. Her cooking is much better than the hospital fare you had the other day, so I’m sure you’ll have no problem enjoying it. That is, if I can get you off your feet long enough to focus on the food. Please, sit and eat. I won’t let you go back to your patients until you do.”

  CHAPTER THREE

  The colonel nodded in agreement. “Well, since you’ll be keeping me company, it would be most ungentlemanly of me to say no. Please join me.” He motioned to the seat on the other side of the desk and moved into the room.

  Pepper teetered at the doorway, one foot in the room and the other one out. It was one thing to stand in a large open ward or sit in a huge kitchen and talk to this man. But it was quite another to accompany him to a private area without a chaperone. And she’d always been a stickler for following the rules of decorum. She ran her fingers over the grosgrain ribbon she had tied around her waist, hoping to quell the sudden attack of uneasiness his suggestion brought on. A bead of sweat sluiced its way down her spine. Her younger sisters and her mother may have been suffragettes in their own way, bending the rules to suit their needs, but Pepper had spent her adult life following the dictates for well-heeled members of society, no matter how stringent.

  She glanced at Colonel Williams. The man was so tired he could barely stand. The lines in his face had deepened even in the short time she’d become his acquaintance. He needed to sit and enjoy a home-cooked meal. Perhaps if they kept open the door to the office, it wouldn’t seem so out of place. But his eyes kept wandering to the door each time a nurse scurried past, or a soldier let out a moan of pain. He would not keep his seat long enough to replenish himself, body, mind, and soul if the door was open. He needed to be hog-tied, and if it meant tossing out the rules of propriety, so be it. She was her mother’s daughter after all.

  Making her decision, she closed the door and moved toward the desk. She needn’t worry about her reputation being sullied by this man. He was too tired and hungry to mount any kind of threat against her. And if Mabel Wentworth, the old busybody, caught wind of her behind-closed-doors tryst with the good Colonel, Pepper would deal with it.

  “All right, then, Colonel. Cook’s fried chicken is famous in the city, and it’s getting cold the longer we stand here.”

  He smiled at her words and lifted the edge of the napkin. “Fried chicken is my all-time favorite meal, cold or hot. How did you know that?”

  Pepper forced a smile to her lips. “It was a favorite of my husband’s, as well.”

  “Ah. Again, I’m sorry for your loss.”

  “Thank you, but let’s not dwell on it.”

  Colonel Williams remained standing, waiting for her. She had noticed as they were walking side by side through the ward how tall he was. And lanky—probably because he didn’t take the time to eat properly. Or take the time to sleep, from the looks of the lines in his face.

  He cleared a spot on his cluttered desk, and Pepper laid down the napkin, before setting the chicken, mashed potatoes, and green beans in front of him. She then took a seat opposite and allowed the colonel to finally sit before his feast. He eyed the food appreciatively and dug in before another word was said.

  Pepper studied him while he shoveled the food in as if he were starving. He probably was. Having a twin brother beside her the whole time she was growing up, getting married at an early age, and then producing three sons gave her a comfortable feeling around men and their habits. She fully expected a belch after he finished and smiled as she waited for it. Meanwhile, she decided to find out more about the colonel.

  “Mother tells me you’re a widower. I’m sorry for your loss, as well.”

  “Thank you, Mrs. Brown. My wife died a few years back.”

  “So you have no one to go home to? No children?”

  “No, unfortunately. We never were blessed with children. My home is the barracks here at the
fort, on those rare occasions when I leave the hospital.”

  “How long has it been since you’ve taken a walk?”

  His glance rose from the food. They were kind eyes, not exactly blue, though. What color were they? She leaned across the desk and locked eyes with him. Well, yes, they were blue but had flecks of light brown in the irises. Most unusual. As was the man, who remained silent.

  “Well?”

  “I walk miles each day in the hospital. You have no need to worry about my exercise regimen.”

  “I’m not talking about exercise. I’m talking about filling your lungs with an odor other than antiseptic. Walking in the park and taking in the fresh air and the scent of the flowers. My guess is it’s been a while.”

  “Does your floral fragrance count?” He smiled at her before taking a bite of a chicken leg. “Great, tasty chicken, by the way.”

  She bit her lip to keep from returning his smile. The fact he’d noticed her toilet water made her want to grin from ear to ear. She was grateful she had taken the few extra minutes today to splash on some scent. Anything she could do to take the minds of the men in this hospital from their plight was beneficial, even if it was merely toilet water. But they were discussing a serious matter, and she needed to make that clear. “Don’t sass me, young man. You know exactly what I’m talking about, and your evasive tactics make me realize you don’t have a satisfactory answer.”

  He leaned back in his seat, full at last. He leveled his gaze at her. “Then I’ll give you an answer. You’re absolutely right. It’s been months since I’ve seen the outside of this building. I find it very hard to justify a walk in the park—even if I were to accompany someone as special as yourself—when my absence, even for a few hours, would mean men might die due to my inattention. I’ll worry about my own needs only when the war slows down.”

  Pepper sat back, feeling as if she’d been hit in the stomach. Of course he would think of his charges first and himself last. Pepper should not have been so thoughtless. Yet how could he continue at his current pace if he didn’t take some time to care for himself?

  “You can’t save everyone, you know.”

  “Yes, I’m well aware of the large number of losses the North has suffered so far. But I can save some, so I do my best. And, if I do get a few minutes to myself, I try to sleep, although it’s difficult for me.” He blinked his tired, unusual eyes and stared at her.

  “I can imagine. The things you’ve seen are nightmarish.”

  “I’ve had it lucky, when you put it into perspective. Think of the things those poor men have seen on the battlefield. They have had it far worse than I have. The men who are lucky enough to come back from this ghastly war will never be the same.”

  He placed the empty bowls back in the basket, wiped his mouth and fingers with the napkin, which he then added to the basket, leaned back again, and belched quietly. Just as she had expected.

  Pepper smiled at him, stood, and reached for the basket. He rose as well.

  “I’m grateful you’ve decided to return to the hospital. We don’t have enough hands, and a lot of the other finely bred young ladies who come here for a day find the conditions so deplorable they don’t return. I’m glad you have a stronger stomach than most.”

  She gazed up at him. “I will admit to some unease on my part. I hope the men haven’t noticed.”

  “The men are in too much pain to have picked up on it. Although a few of the lesser wounded would have noticed you for reasons other than your discomfort. You create a lovely picture for them, as you stride through the wards. I’ve overheard some of them talking about you for days afterwards.”

  Pepper rolled her shoulders, uncomfortable with the compliment. “Well, now that you’re fed, at least for today, I’ll leave you to your work. I can see myself out, Colonel. Good night.” She stood and picked up the basket.

  “Give my compliments to your cook. And, I can’t remember when I’ve sat down to such a good meal with such pleasant company. It’s been a treat in more ways than one, Mrs. Brown.”

  • • •

  After making his rounds and checking on the men he’d recently operated on, Elijah returned to his small office. He sat and stared across the desk at the chair that had been recently occupied by Mrs. Brown. Her fragrance still hung softly in the air. The lovely, gentle Mrs. Brown. At least gentle was the image one got of her at first sight. But underneath her refined exterior he’d already observed her backbone of solid steel.

  Instead of taking on an easy task, such as rolling bandages or bringing water to the soldiers, she’d chosen the hardest possible duty—providing a caring word and a hand of comfort to those men who were left to die in the hallway of the hospital. For being so slight, so feminine, she was a strong woman. His respect for her grew each time he witnessed her compassionate touch with those poor men. She realized what they wanted most of all, which was to inform their loved ones of their passing, so those left behind could turn the page, as she was attempting to do with her own life. She had scribbled down names and addresses for each man who requested it, and Elijah had no doubt she cried over the letters as she composed them.

  And she had thought enough of his own comfort to bring him dinner and then sit with him to make certain he’d eat it. She’d somehow known he’d not eat more than a few bites before going back to work if he were left alone. He smiled as his mind flashed back to the best twenty minutes of his day. The best twenty minutes of his week, for that matter. He could get used to having Mrs. Brown around his hospital.

  He stretched out again on his cot, hoping for a couple hours of sleep. An image of a woman in a green-sprigged gown, with ebony hair, alabaster skin, and a lovely smile entered his consciousness, and he drifted into the soundest sleep he’d had in months.

  He woke in the pre-dawn hours, refreshed. The nightmare that had been his constant companion when he slept, for months now, had chosen not to make an appearance this evening. He guessed there was a lot to be said for a full belly and a delightful dinner companion. His pleasant evening had given his mind something else to latch on to while he slept. He’d have to replicate his evening again soon. His mouth began to water as he remembered the carefully seasoned chicken leg he had eaten only hours ago. He’d not left a shred of meat on the bone.

  From the sounds coming from outside his office walls, he realized the men were waking up and the nurses were being stretched to their limits. A light knock on his door made him sit up.

  “Come in.”

  The head nurse poked her head into the room. “You asked me to awaken you if I needed you.”

  “Thank you, Helen. I am awake, and I’ll be out to help in a few minutes.”

  The door closed, and Elijah rose from his cot. He’d lend a hand to the nurses while he waited for the next wagon full of the injured to appear at his door.

  The most recent wave of injured and dead had come from the Battle of Malvern Hill, near Richmond. Of the 57,000 total combined forces, led by McClellan and Lee, nearly 2,500 Union casualties and 5,600 Confederate casualties had to be endured during the nearly month-long battle before the Confederacy was dealt a stinging defeat. Almost thirteen percent of their total combined forces were lost in this skirmish alone. They were not engaging in war. Rather, it was slaughter. Was it worth it? Had any war ever been worth it? Men had fought and countries had clashed with each other for centuries, and for what? A little bit more land, religious freedom, or in this case, emancipation of the slaves. Surely there was a more sensible way to come to a compromise than to waste the lives of so many fine young men. The war had changed the entire scope of America already, and the end was nowhere in sight.

  With a shrug and a heavy sigh, he filled the washbasin and splashed cold water on his face. A fresh shirt, a clean face and hands, and he was ready to face another long day. The last thought he had before he left his office was how long he’d have to wait before he’d see Mrs. Brown again.

  CHAPTER FOUR

  Pepper and her mai
d, Molly, let themselves into her parents’ home several weeks later. The butler was away from the door, so Pepper opened it herself rather than wait on the hot front stoop. The short walk from her house to theirs had made her realize the warmth of July had given way to the scorching heat of late August.

  While Molly scooted down the stairs to visit with the servants, Pepper followed quiet voices into the front room of the house, where she found her parents discussing what they had just read in the newspaper.

  George Fitzpatrick folded the paper with a snap and a flourish before he laid it on the table near his leather chair. “There’s been another battle, on the same field where Michael died. The second battle of Bull Run, they’re calling it.”

  “And another Confederate victory,” Charlotte exclaimed. “We may lose this war yet.”

  “No, I don’t believe we will, Charlotte,” George replied. “The North has more forces and more might. All the major shipping lanes from overseas are in the North, so we can continue to be supplied as the war grinds on. It’s only a matter of time before the Confederacy gets worn down. But we’ve only seen skirmishes so far. I have a feeling there will be heavy losses on both sides before it’s over.”

  Pepper took a seat opposite her parents as her stomach lurched at the news. “How many casualties this time?”

  Charlotte ran a hand over her blonde hair. “They are still counting, but it will be extensive.”

  “That will mean more work at the Civil War Widows Pension office, as well as more work at the hospital. Poor Colonel Williams. I suppose the trains will be running between Virginia and here night and day again, filled with the dead and dying.”