Honor Redeemed

by Christine Johnson

  “A carriage,” David gasped, forgetting he was supposed to address his commander properly. “Fetch a doctor.” His breath rasped against a dry throat. “Please.”

  The commander acted without hesitation. In seconds he had ordered the carriage readied. After donning his coat, he kissed his wife and promised to return as soon as he had finished fetching a physician. David blindly followed the man to the porch.

  “Go home, Lieutenant.”

  “I’m going with you.”

  “Your wife needs you.”

  “But I must do something.”

  The commander gave a wry grin as the carriage arrived in a plume of dust illuminated by the lamps hanging by the driver’s seat. “There’s no room for you. Tell your wife that help is on its way.” With a flick of his coattails, the commander climbed into the carriage, and it left.

  David watched dully, his strength at such a low ebb that he could barely stumble down the steps to the parade ground. Only afterward did he realize that the carriage could easily carry more than two, but he was too exhausted to wonder why the commander had refused to take him. He must return home. In his quarters, the windows glowed, but not with the warmth of a new baby. No, they winked feebly, as if afraid of what was to come.

  Miss Stern had left early that day, if five thirty could be considered early. At the nurse’s request, Prosperity helped carry food to the hospital’s few patients, all fever victims. Through the open windows, the orange sun dropped toward the horizon as the nurse handed out the food from Prosperity’s tray. One patient pushed the gruel away. She didn’t blame him. It was tasteless stuff. The others at least attempted to eat.

  Fever was a terrible thing. If only she had a balm plant. An infusion of the herb in drink had brought cooling relief whenever her mother suffered. Instead all she could offer was a comforting word.

  “Don’t let Miss Stern catch you talkin’ to de patients,” Gracie clucked when she returned to the kitchen, where the laundresses and cooks gathered at the end of a long day. “You be let go like de others.”

  That wasn’t the first time Prosperity had heard of dismissed housekeepers, but she’d thought it would have been for something more severe than saying a prayer or giving encouragement. Surely Miss Stern couldn’t be that harsh.

  Her hand stilled as she handed the tray of barely eaten food to a scullery maid.

  “Ain’t ya gonna let go?” the colored woman scolded.

  “I’m sorry.”

  The woman shook her head as she walked to the garbage bucket. “Ain’t it a pity ta throw such vittles to the fishes.”

  “The fishes? Wouldn’t the swine get the leftovers?”

  “T’ain’t no pigs here, missy.” The woman clucked her tongue as she went about her work. “Dey be bringin’ in a chile ta do a woman’s work.”

  Prosperity wasn’t exactly certain what the woman had said, but it sounded uncomplimentary. “Well, I’ll be going back to work then.”

  “Shore, shore.” The woman chuckled as she waved her hand. “Work.”

  Something about her tone sent shivers down Prosperity’s spine.

  “What did she mean?” she asked Gracie as they walked back to the laundry.

  Gracie shrugged. “Don’t take much ta get de rumors goin’.”

  “What rumors?”

  It took some prodding, but she finally got the truth from the laundress. “Dat doctor you be seein’.”

  “Doctor?” She must mean Dr. Goodenow. “We’re just friends.”

  “Maybe, but don’t take much fo’ rumors.” Gracie leveled her gaze at Prosperity. “You be careful.”

  The caution wasn’t lost on Prosperity. Any rumors pairing her with Dr. Goodenow were ridiculous. The only man who had ever captured her heart was David. Her David. She squeezed her eyes shut against the welling tears. The betrayal still stung.

  The doctor, on the other hand, must be twenty years her senior. He was more like a father than a suitor. He had the appearance of a professor. A teacher. That’s all he was. He was teaching her the medicinal qualities of the plants on the island. How could that be wrong?

  Prosperity slipped a sheet into the mangle. Darkness already shrouded the grounds. By the time she finished her work, it would be very late. Dr. Goodenow would doubtless insist on walking her home, as he had nearly every day. Though the strange sounds and smells terrified her, she could not accept his escort. She must not.

  First she must complete her work. The stack of dried bed linens needed pressing.

  Gracie eyed her nervously. “My babe be hungerin’ by now.”

  Prosperity lifted the sheet from the mangle. Gracie had a houseful of small children, and the youngest was a newborn. “Go. I will finish this.”

  Gracie’s worry split into a wide smile. “Thank ye, miss. Anytime I kin help, you jes’ ask.”

  Prosperity waved her away, still pondering the rumors. If Miss Stern heard them, Prosperity’s days at the hospital were numbered.

  The work was so familiar that her hands completed it without a thought. Instead her mind drifted to the handwritten journal that Dr. Goodenow had loaned her this morning. It listed various plants and their uses. While eating the midday meal in the kitchen, she had pored over the notes. The cook had teased her, asking if she thought she would become a doctor, but Prosperity ignored her. It was all nonsense, for women did not become physicians. What patient would ever seek their advice?

  Though innocent, that journal gave the impression of impropriety. It must be returned.

  “Miss Jones?”

  Prosperity jumped. “Oh! Dr. MacNees.”

  The surgeon headed the hospital. Prosperity had only seen him from a distance. Miss Stern had pointed him out with reverence. Prosperity was to obey any orders he might give her but to otherwise steer clear of the great man. Why would he be in the laundry? Unless he had heard the rumors also.

  “Miss Jones.” He peered at her from beneath great bushy eyebrows.

  “Sir.” She felt her face heat. “I will not leave until I finish all my duties.”

  “I am not here to critique your labors, Miss Jones. Dr. Goodenow requests your assistance. He is waiting for you at the main entrance.”

  Her ears buzzed. Was this a test? Was the head of the marine hospital saying this to determine if the gossip was true?

  He clapped his hands. “Now, Miss Jones.”

  She jumped again. “I-I-I’m supposed to go with him?”

  “That is what I said. You will be assisting at a birth. I assume you know something about birthing a baby.”

  Her head spun. A birth. If a doctor had been called, then either the mother or the child was in desperate straits. “Yes, sir. I mean, no, sir. I have never assisted at childbirth, at least a human birth. I did help with puppies.”

  Dr. MacNees looked unimpressed. “Why are you still standing here? Hurry along, Miss Jones.”

  So much for staying away from Dr. Goodenow. By tomorrow, the gossips would have them courting. Or worse.

  Prosperity stood at the top of the hospital’s entry, peering at the unfamiliar carriage. She didn’t realize the doctor had a conveyance, least of all one capable of carrying four. Why own such a vehicle when he had no family?

  “There you are.” Dr. Goodenow opened the carriage door and climbed out. “Hurry.”

  She clattered down the steps. He extended his hand to assist her, but she hesitated. An enclosed carriage with only the doctor would raise speculation, especially since she’d left the hospital by the main entrance.

  “Why did you ask for my assistance?”

  The doctor’s hat shadowed his expression. “I require a nurse.”

  “I am not a nurse.”

  “You will do admirably. Please get in, Miss Jones. Our patient is in a desperate condition.”

  Prosperity’s heart pounded as she climbed into the carriage. She was surprised to discover another man inside. Dusk and the dark interior shielded his identity.

  “Miss Jones,” the
man said. “Dr. Goodenow speaks highly of your nursing abilities. Thank you for coming at once.”

  Though he spoke like a gentleman, she pressed a trembling hand to her midsection.

  Dr. Goodenow sat beside her rather than next to the gentleman. “It is our duty, as you well understand, Colonel.”

  Colonel. Prosperity’s throat went dry. David’s superior. What if the woman in labor was David’s wife? Her head spun.

  The man grunted a reply. “Blamed uncomfortable situation.”

  “Did the midwife convey the problem?” Dr. Goodenow asked.

  “Only to fetch a doctor,” the colonel said. “The company physician is at Fort Jefferson, or we would have sent him. Much quicker.” He rapped on the roof of the carriage. “Hurry.”

  The driver must have obeyed, because the jolts and bumps bounced Prosperity side to side on the seat. She clung to the frame of the window so she didn’t slam against the doctor. Yells and whistles came from up top, and the carriage careened around a corner. Buildings, their windows beginning to glow with lamplight, passed in a blur.

  Then the carriage slowed. Prosperity flexed her stiff fingers.

  “We have arrived,” Dr. Goodenow said.

  “Almost.” The commander slid across his seat and leaned out the open window.

  In the light of a lantern, a soldier saluted and then waved them on.

  Prosperity fisted her hands. David’s wife was heavy with child. How many wives lived at the post? How many were ready to deliver a baby? There could not be many, yet she prayed fervently that this was not David’s wife. How could she be in the same room with the woman, least of all assist in bringing David’s child into the world?

  She squeezed her eyes shut and forced herself to take a breath.

  Dear Lord, let it not be her.

  The carriage rolled to a stop. She looked out the window. They had halted in front of a building that looked more like a house than barracks. The receding light revealed a wide veranda at the top of a long set of stairs. These must be officers’ quarters.

  David.

  The commander got out first. Dr. Goodenow followed. He extended his hand to help her from the carriage.

  Prosperity trembled so badly that she could not stand. “I can’t.”

  “Come now. There is nothing to fear,” the doctor assured her. “I will do the difficult part. You only need to calm the patient and urge her to do as I direct. I have found a woman’s presence most helpful.”

  “The midwife,” she croaked.

  “After this long, she will be exhausted. Our patient needs a fresh and calming presence like yours.”

  The doctor didn’t understand, because he didn’t know. If this was David’s wife, Prosperity’s presence would not bring calm. She could not forget the sharp look of triumph the woman had cast at her that first meeting.

  “Come along, Miss Jones.” The doctor’s patient urging had sharpened. “If I’d thought you were the timid sort, I would never have asked for you.”

  Dr. Goodenow trusted her abilities. His confidence roused her from the numbing dread. He needed her. She must not fail him. Besides, she could not be certain this was David’s wife. If she faltered, and it was another officer’s wife, she would never forgive herself.

  Lord, give me strength.

  She slid across the seat and managed to get her feet under her. She grabbed the door frame and pulled herself upright. Outside, a lantern illuminated the single step she must navigate. She thrust out a foot and lost sight of the tiny step. Her resolve faltered.

  “Be careful.” The doctor braced her with both hands, giving her the benefit of his strength.

  Somehow she descended from the carriage, though she did not feel her legs move or her foot on the step.

  Dr. Goodenow patted her hand. “You will do famously, Miss Jones. I have complete confidence in you.”

  More than she had. Prosperity drew a deep breath. Dear Lord, help me face whatever lies ahead. It flashed through her mind that perhaps God did want her to face what she dreaded most, but she could not have entered the building if she knew David awaited her.

  Ten short strides took them across the yard. A dozen more carried them up the steps and onto the veranda. The commander stormed into the house ahead of them. Dr. Goodenow released her hand and entered next. Prosperity trailed behind, taking deep breaths of the somewhat cooler evening air to steady her trembling limbs. Her hand brushed against the wood frame of the doorway and held on.

  She did not look up. She could not bear to see who awaited them inside. The door had swung half shut, and she could hear the murmur of voices beyond it. She recognized the doctor’s voice. The commander boomed his replies, but the third person . . . was it David? Fear mingled with hopeless anticipation, for she loved him still. How could she not? Their lives had been intertwined for years. She had never considered a future without him.

  Once upon a time she would have recognized even his whisper, but two years had changed so much. The day she’d come face-to-face with him, she’d barely recognized him. His face was weathered and tanned like that of a farmhand or sailor. His hair, always closely cut and neat back home, was longer and wild as a tangle of dried grasses. It had turned much fairer than she remembered, and his brow was deeply carved by worry.

  Where was the man she loved? How had this place stolen her beloved and left a stranger in his place?

  She inched a foot over the threshold. One more and she would be inside. Such a simple action, done every day without thought, yet tonight laden with dread.

  “Blood,” a woman exclaimed. “More’n I ever seen, and I been birthin’ babies for twenty years.”

  Prosperity quaked. She had seen her share of blood, but not in quantities. Ma had coughed up bloody sputum. Injuries on the wharves left men wounded. Once Pa’s leg had been gashed by a harpoon, but the mate had stitched the wound together. Birthing naturally included blood, but this must be exceptional to draw a midwife’s concern. A birth carried no small amount of fear. Women died far too often. Babies were born lifeless. The time of joy could end in terrible sorrow.

  Would this night end in death?

  “Oh blackest heart,” she whispered. ’Twas akin to murder to wish evil upon another soul, yet her wicked thoughts had leapt at the hope that David’s wife might perish. She clung to the door frame, trembling. “Lord, break my heart of stone. Spare her life.” How those words stuck in her mouth.

  “It’s time, Miss Jones,” Dr. Goodenow called.

  Prosperity heard a gasp. She looked up.

  David stood before her.

  9

  David’s thoughts flew to the obvious.

  Prosperity had not returned home to Nantucket.

  Was she waiting for a ship headed north? Hadn’t he given her enough to cover the fare? Regardless of the reason, here she stood, so beautiful and so vulnerable that every fiber ached to go to her. Her presence filled the room with radiance and his heart with regret. He could not hold her, could not console her. They would never rejoice in the birth of their son or daughter. He had thrown that away.

  Still, his lips formed her name. He could not look away.

  She wavered, and her eyes shut. He stepped forward, but the physician reached her first.

  “Miss Jones?” The doctor eased her into a chair and urged her to breathe.

  She smiled feebly. “I’m sorry. I feel better now.”

  “Do you need something to drink?” The physician, whose name had escaped David’s mind, hovered over her.

  “The patient!” the midwife demanded, her gray-streaked black hair wild about her shoulders.

  Aileen screamed as if to emphasize the need, and David shuddered. She could not know that Prosperity sat in David’s parlor. In their parlor.

  “Go,” Colonel Stormant barked. “I’ll send Dora over with tea. That’ll revive the girl.”

  David balked. Prosperity was not an ordinary girl, but there was no one to accept his protest. The doctor hurried up the stair
s behind the midwife, who filled him in on every horrifying detail. The colonel barged out of the house, presumably to request tea.

  That left David alone with Prosperity.

  Her owl eyes stared at him.

  What to say? What could he say? No apology could erase the pain he’d caused. Words and gifts fell terribly short. Faced with the opportunity he had longed for, David found himself speechless. He swallowed. He never expected to see her again. Why tonight of all nights? He reached out to her.

  She jumped to her feet and stepped beyond reach. “I must attend the patient.”

  “Yes.” Her voice mesmerized him. “Thank you.” So inadequate.

  “Dr. Goodenow expects me.” Yet she did not move.

  “You? Are going to help?”

  “I will comfort . . . your wife.”

  The words slapped him. His wife. Prosperity would help Aileen. The irony was too bitter to bear. “You don’t have to.”

  “The doctor expects me.” Again she did not move.

  “Do you work for him?” The words came out harsher than he’d intended.

  “He helped me find a position at the marine hospital.”

  “As a nurse?” Though she had nursed her mother many years, no physician he’d met would allow a woman to nurse men.

  “A laundress.”

  He finally noticed her chapped, red hands. “You shouldn’t have to work.”

  “I always have.”

  “I wanted to give you more, a life of ease.”

  She turned away, a simple move yet laden with meaning. She rejected him.

  “Prosperity.” He reached for her, desperate to touch her once more.

  She skirted around him, heading for the staircase.

  “Don’t leave,” he begged. “One minute longer.”

  She hesitated at the bottom step, her expression unreadable.

  Upstairs, Aileen screamed.

  “Your wife needs me.” She turned her back to him and ascended the stairs.

  Where Prosperity got the strength to climb the steps, she could not say. God must have answered her prayer, for under her own power, she could not have walked away from David.