by Kelli Estes
Emily didn’t waste any time. “Do you know where we can find our brother, Private David Wilson of the 9th Indiana Infantry? We were told he was brought to this hospital.”
“Oh, yes, I know David. I’m Private Thompson, the one who wrote to you. I’m so relieved you came.” Wasting no time, he pointed with his chin to the stairs at the back of the hall. “Upstairs, second room on the right. Bed in the corner.”
Emily and Ben didn’t need to be told twice. They pushed their way to the stairs and headed up. At the top, they found a hallway that ran the length of the building with open doors leading off both sides. In the second room, they found twenty beds holding what looked to be gravely ill men. Some had bandages covering various wounds, but judging by their pale complexions and the delirium in their eyes, all were ill with some malady or another. Emily’s gaze landed on a boy who could not have been older than ten. He stared at Emily as though she were not there.
She tore her gaze away from the boy. David lay in the last bed, under an open window, and she hurried to his side. “David, we’re here.”
His skin looked waxy and sweaty. Two pink circles darkened his cheeks with fever. “Emily?” His voice shook as though he hadn’t spoken in days, and he crumbled into a fit of phlegmy coughing.
“Hush, don’t fatigue yourself.” Emily smoothed his hair off his sweaty forehead and sent a concerned look to Ben, who sat on the opposite edge of the bed, his hand on David’s leg.
“We’re here now,” Ben told him. “We’ll take care of you.”
David closed his eyes. A wheezing sound emerged from his cracked lips with every breath. Sweat darkened his shirt. Though only five months had passed since they’d last seen him, he looked different. He’d lost weight, and his cheekbones jutted sharply out of his face above a full beard. At home, David kept himself clean and groomed, and he shaved every morning. The man lying before her was undoubtedly her brother, yet changed in ways she couldn’t have imagined.
And he was very ill, Emily realized as he flinched in pain in his sleep and let out a moan. She and Ben had come all this way so their family could be together again. They couldn’t lose David now. A wave of fear overcame her, and before she could stop it, a whimper escaped her mouth.
She pressed her lips together and looked around the room for a way to ease David’s discomfort. “Wait here, I’ll be right back,” she said to Ben, intent on finding help.
In the hallway, she searched for someone to tend to her brother, but every person she saw already had their hands full helping other patients. It was up to her and Ben to help David. At the top of the stairs, she found a table laden with clean cloths. She grabbed several and went in search of a basin and water. Although she had to go down to the kitchen in the basement for the basin and out to the pump in the backyard for the water, she soon had what she needed. Moving as quickly as she could without spilling, she hurried back upstairs to her brother, resolutely ignoring all the other soldiers who begged for her help along the way, her heart breaking a little more with each one that she passed.
Back with David, she set the basin on the bed between his legs and dragged a chair over from the bedside of another unconscious man. Moving quickly, she dunked a cloth in the cool water, wrung it out, and set about cooling David’s fever with cold, wet cloths laid on his arms and chest. She gently ran another across his forehead and down his face. She’d nursed him through illness before, she reminded herself. And he’d always recovered. This time would be no different.
Emily and Ben talked to David and continued to cool him with the cloths all through the night. David did not stir again beyond an occasional moan or the seldom but welcomed sigh of contentment at the feel of the cool cloth on his skin.
It was a long, long night.
* * *
“Where did you come from?”
Emily jerked her head from David’s bed. The sun had risen, and the window behind her was flooded with autumn light. Ben was nowhere to be seen, and David was glaring at her from his pillow. “What?”
He raised his voice. “I said, where did you come from?” A fit of coughing, so intense it shook the entire bed, overcame him.
Emily hurried across the room to pour him a cup of water from the jug she’d left on the table inside the door. He was still coughing when she returned to his bedside and forced the cup into his hand. “Drink.”
He did, and the coughing subsided. Emily took the cup, and David settled back against the pillow again with his eyes closed. She placed a hand on his forehead and found his fever still burning hot.
“Why are you here?”
Emily thought he’d fallen back asleep, and the question startled her. “To care for you. We’re going to stay with you. And when you return to camp, I’ll be there to care for you.”
David’s eyes flew open and he tried to sit up, but weakness and pain forced him to collapse back to the bed. “No, you are not. I forbid it.”
“Don’t you see, David? With Pa gone, we’re all we have left. I’m not going to spend another day not knowing where you are. We are staying with you.”
“We?” David’s gaze searched the room, then returned to her. “Ben’s here, too?”
She nodded. “Yes. So, you see, there’s no use fighting us on this.”
David shook his head, unconvinced. “But, Emily, your place is at home.”
Emily shook her head. “No. My place is with my family.”
“But, Em.” She could see the argument was draining what little energy he had, but he kept on. “The women who follow the camps aren’t like you. You would besmirch your own honor by taking this course of action.” He struggled for breath. “If people discovered what you are doing, you would never find a respectable man to marry you.”
His words ignited an ember inside Emily that she hadn’t even known was glowing. She snapped back at him, “Since it’s only men who have any agency, maybe I should become one. Instead of following the camp, which you find so shameful, I’ll become a man and enlist! What do you think of that?”
His eyes bulged and his stomach contracted as though he was trying to sit up. “You will do no such thing!”
She hadn’t meant it when she’d said it, but suddenly the idea didn’t sound so absurd. “Why not? If all I do is sit at home and darn socks and sew flags, I will go mad with worry for you and Ben, who we both know is going to join you.” She realized she was clenching her fists and forced herself to relax them. “You know I can shoot as well as you. You also know I can hold my own in a footrace. I am as fit as you or Ben to be a soldier, and if that means trading my future chance at marriage, that is a risk I am willing to take to keep my family together. You’re all I have left.”
David closed his eyes and was silent for several moments. All Emily heard was the wheezing of his breathing at a pace so rapid she knew he had not fallen asleep but was thinking. When he spoke, his voice was devoid of strength and she had to lean forward to hear him. “There are ways of men you do not know, little sister.”
“If Joan of Arc could manage over four hundred years ago, I can do so now. Besides, I’ll be careful.” Sensing he was giving in, she tried to lighten the mood. “I’ll have you and Ben to protect me, right?”
Her remark seemed to upset David even more. “They burned Joan of Arc at the stake.” His Adam’s apple bobbed as he swallowed several times. He didn’t open his eyes, but his hand moved as though in search of hers. She took it between her own, flinching at the clamminess she found there. His voice was almost a whisper as he said, “Em, people die in battle. Believe me when I tell you it is not a place you want to be.”
The heavy reminder of Pa’s death fell over her. Emily dropped her chin to her chest and wondered when it would get any easier to think of him. “Why didn’t you send his body home to us?”
He shook his head. “I couldn’t. They said there was no way to preserve his body for
the journey, and they didn’t have time for that anyway. I buried him in a meadow under a pine tree.”
Emily nodded, overcome by the realization that she might never be able to visit her father’s grave site to pay her respects.
“Hey, you’re awake.” Ben’s voice, bright with energy, interrupted the pall that had overcome them. He sat on the end of David’s bed. “How do you feel?”
“I feel like I’ve been trampled by a team of six, but that’s nothing compared to what you’ll feel when I’m done with you.” He gave Ben the sternest look he could muster. “What were you thinking, letting her come here?”
Ben flushed. “You know how stubborn she can be. Besides, I wanted to come, too. I’m of age now.” He had turned eighteen two weeks ago, just before they left the farm.
David did not argue, but gave them a look of disappointment that reminded Emily of Pa. When he didn’t say anything more, she knew he was too weak to keep up the argument. She tried to raise his spirits. “Nancy is well. She sends her regards.” A small lie.
Rather than cheering him, the reminder of his sweetheart back home seemed to make him sad. His eyes closed, and his throat convulsed as he swallowed.
“What can we do for you?” Ben asked. “I can get you some breakfast.”
David weakly shook his head. “Not hungry.”
“Want to get up and walk around? I bet you’d feel much better with a little exercise.”
The suggestion alone seemed to drain David’s energy. He sank into the bed a little more. “No, actually, I could use a little rest right now. You two go on and find something to eat.”
Emily, still holding his hand, squeezed it tighter. “No, we don’t want to leave you alone.”
He squeezed back. “Go eat and find some rest of your own. I’ll be right here when you get back.”
“You better be.”
David’s lips curved in a slight smile, even as his eyes closed. With one last squeeze of her hand, he released her. “Go on now.”
Reluctantly, Emily followed Ben out of David’s room and down the stairs of the hospital. Her body felt stiff from her cramped position all night, but as she walked past soldier after soldier with missing legs and arms, she was reminded to be grateful she had a whole body.
“Excuse me, you are Private Wilson’s siblings, right?”
Emily stopped and turned toward the voice. It was the doctor who had briefly checked on David in the middle of the night. “Yes. I am Emily, and this is my brother Benjamin.”
“Dr. Chisolm,” he reminded them and drew them to the side of the room, out of the bustle of the entry landing. Despite the fatigue around his eyes and mouth, he was a handsome man, his dark hair only slightly mussed from working through the night.
“We were just stepping out for breakfast,” Emily told him. “Will David be all right while we are gone?”
The doctor didn’t waste any time. “Your brother is very sick. He has typhoid with the added complication of pneumonia. There isn’t much we can do now but wait and see.”
Emily felt the floor tilting. She’d heard of typhoid and the misery it brought those it afflicted. Few survived. She reached out to Ben to steady herself. Ben’s face paled, and the muscle in his jaw bulged.
“What can we do to help him?” Emily asked.
“Try to get him to eat and drink. Keep cool compresses on his forehead, face, neck, and arms to bring down the fever. Prop him on pillows to ease his breathing. I’m sorry we don’t have more staff here to care for him, but it’s a blessing you have arrived.”
“Yes,” Emily agreed, her mind reeling.
“I know this must be difficult for you, Miss Wilson.” The doctor’s voice held a note of condescension that caught Emily by surprise. “I can give you a draft to help you sleep if you would like.”
Emily raised her eyebrows, shocked that even a man of learning such as this could be so belittling. Or maybe it wasn’t shock she felt but frustration. The thought clearly had never entered the man’s head that Ben might find their brother’s illness too difficult to cope with. No, only she, a woman, was that weak. She forced a smile, as was expected of her, and politely demurred. “That will not be necessary, Doctor.”
He nodded, already turning away. “If you will excuse me, I must return to my duties. Send someone, should you have need of me.”
“Thank you,” Ben said for both of them. Before Dr. Chisolm could leave, he asked, “Are we in danger of contracting the same illness?”
The doctor paused as though considering, his eyes clouded. “We don’t really know what causes it. Some say it is miasma in the air; others say it is from contact with an ill person’s excrement. It’s good that your brother is next to the window. Try to keep fresh air coming in. And keep him clean.”
As Dr. Chisolm walked away, Ben turned to Emily with shadows in his eyes. “You go back to David. I’ll find us something to eat.”
Emily nodded and numbly climbed back up the stairs to David’s room. He lay as they’d left him several minutes earlier, though now that she understood his affliction, she saw how weak he actually was. His body looked shrunken. Every breath was a struggle.
She could not lose him.
Knowing what she needed to do, she gathered more clean cloths and fresh water and set herself to the task of wiping David’s forehead. After only one swipe, the cloth felt hot. She rinsed it, wrung it out, and continued cooling his exposed skin, all the while willing him to get better.
Ben returned with biscuits and ham, which she ate ravenously before returning to her ministrations. When her arms ached, Ben took over and Emily rested, never taking her eyes or her hand from her older brother.
Time ceased to have meaning as Ben and Emily took turns nursing their brother through the days and nights. Despite their constant efforts, David sank deeper into his illness. Occasionally, Dr. Chisolm or another doctor checked on him and administered quinine, but mostly the doctors and nurses who tended to the other patients left David’s care to Emily and Ben, nodding in approval at their efforts to keep him clean and hydrated. Emily only left his bedside when she needed to visit the privy in the yard or purchase food from the cook in the basement kitchen for her and Ben. They did not bother to rent a room, for neither wanted to leave David long enough to make it worthwhile. When they needed a break, they went for a walk around the yard. When they needed sleep, they simply crossed their arms on the foot of David’s bed and laid their heads down.
They may not have been soldiers, but Emily and Ben fought a war just the same.
Chapter Seven
Present day: Woodinville, Washington
That first night at Grams’s house set Larkin’s routine for the rest of the week. During the day when Kaia was at work and Grams was out meeting friends for lunch or at one of her many charity meetings and functions, Larkin either slept or sat around the house watching movies on her laptop and raiding the kitchen cupboards, Bowie at her side. At night, Larkin spent hours tossing and turning, and after Grams and Kaia were asleep, she’d tiptoe downstairs to get something to take the edge off from the liquor cabinet.
She became adept at clearing the house every night without waking anyone else, and she felt as though she couldn’t return to her room until she’d made sure every entry point was secure and no threats hid in the shadows. Bowie slept in Grams’s room, so Larkin was on her own for her rounds.
Once the alcohol had worked its magic on her mind and body, and her security routine was complete, Larkin would return to her bedroom where she would finally fall asleep.
But that’s when the nightmares came.
Men, their faces covered with black cloth, riding in the back of green pickup trucks. Angry shouts in Dari and Pashto, their meaning clear even without translation. The flash of sun bouncing off the barrel of a weapon on a rooftop. Explosions.
There was always an explosion.
And the cotton-in-her-ears aftermath where she was disoriented and terrified.
Body parts. Blood. Fire. Pain.
She jerked awake and felt the sticky dampness of sweat. It was still dark. Still night.
Kicking off the covers, Larkin reached blindly for the bottle on her nightstand and drank until it was empty. Exhausted but afraid to close her eyes, she laid her cheek on a cold spot at the edge of her pillow and stared at the sliver of moonlight that edged along the side of the window blinds. She just had to hold on until morning. Her nightmares weren’t quite as bad when she slept during the daytime.
She was still awake when she heard Kaia pass her closed bedroom door and leave for work and a little bit later when Grams went downstairs and brewed coffee, the scent wafting up the stairs and under Larkin’s bedroom door.
Even though winter darkness still hovered over the house, the gray light of coming morning had replaced the silver moonlight. Daytime was here.
With a sigh of relief, Larkin let sleep claim her.
Hours later, something bumped into the bed and Larkin woke with a start.
“I thought Grams was exaggerating when she told me you sleep all day, but I guess she was right.” Jenna sat on the bed at Larkin’s feet. “What should we do? I took the afternoon off—a perk of being married to the boss’s son—and I’m all yours.”
Jenna managed accounts receivable at the plastic tubing company her husband’s family owned. Even though she sounded like blowing off work was no big deal, Larkin knew Jenna took her job seriously. She could even be called a workaholic. It was a big deal that she’d left work to see Larkin.
Larkin rolled over and squinted at the clock. Thirteen hundred hours. Groaning, she rested her arm over her eyes to block out the light, as dim as it was, that was making her head hurt. “Where’s Grams?”
“Working at the holiday bazaar at the Hollywood Schoolhouse. She said she’ll bring pizza home for dinner.”
