by Terri Meeker
Sam shook his head. “Well what is the point, then? Because I feel as though we’re having two entirely unrelated conversations.”
“To speak plainly then, since you’re not coming ‘round to it on your own, Bluebird fancies you. It’s why she got all worked up when she thought you’d tried to hurt yourself.” Gordy leveled a serious look at Sam. “And she might not want you to behave like a proper gentleman all the time.”
Sam was stunned. Lily fancied him? And somehow Gordy was the one to pick up on this? In the past Sam had thought that women were perplexing, but it seemed Canadians were even more so. It likely didn’t bode well that Lily Curtis was both.
Sam was at a loss. Unsure of how to proceed across such a mine-filled conversational field, he thought his best course of action might be to beat a hasty retreat. He placed his plate on his side table, faked an exaggerated yawn, and turned to face the wall.
“Oh, that’s a fine thing.” Gordy’s tone was indignant. “Here I am, just trying to help you.”
“I don’t want to talk about it, Gordy—and I don’t know what you’re on about. I think they’ve possibly given you the wrong medication and that’s why you’ve gone mental.”
Sam lay still, relieved that the pain in his head had begun to ebb. He closed his eyes and waited for Gordy to keep hammering at him. When the lad instead chose to remain silent, however, it proved to be fantastically irritating. It was maddening, really, for the lad to bring up such a thing and then simply leave it at that.
“Why would you think she had such feelings, anyway?” Sam asked. “She’s kind to all the soldiers.”
“Oh right. Tell yourself that, do you? Just ignore that she bloody well wept when she thought you were trying to do yourself in.” When Sam didn’t respond, he continued. “And never mind the fact that you don’t see her making a special point to read the mail to the other Tommies. Or the fact that she doesn’t come by to check on the other blokes when they’re fast asleep. Just you.”
Sam decided to try another approach. “Gordy, in case you haven’t noticed, Miss Curtis is currently quite unhappy with me.”
Gordy snorted. “Well, yeah, you dim lummox. A woman will get right put out when her fella tries to off himself.”
“I’ll tell you what I told her: I was not trying to harm myself.”
Gordy’s bed creaked and shifted. As the silence stretched out, Sam began to relax. When Gordy spoke again, his voice was lower, more measured. “Come on, Sam. Your eyes may give you troubles, but you’re not blind. She has a look in her eyes when she glances at you. I know that expression. Recognized it in an instant, only because it’s the look I’ve longed to see since I was in short pants. She’s smitten by you.”
Sam continued to stare at the wall.
“Seems unfair—a girl like that comes along once in a lifetime, and for god knows what reason, she goes and fancies a farmer who wouldn’t know what to do with a female unless she had udders and her name was Bessie.”
“I am not without a clue when it comes to the fairer sex.” He’d be damned if he’d give Gordy the satisfaction of turning around.
“Oh, got quite a string of girls, do you?”
“Well, there was talk in the town, yes.” No need for Gordy to know that any village gossip concerning the Dwight family always centered around his brother.
“Sounds scandalous,” Gordy said. But he sounded far too amused to be taking Sam seriously.
“I believe the nickname ‘Debonair Dwight’ was used on more than one occasion.” Sam steadfastly faced the wall.
“Fancy that. I couldn’t imagine you were such a ladies’ man, Sam. Pity those poor girls back home with their broken hearts.”
Gordy’s bed creaked again, then he spoke, his voice full of cheer. “Oh, hello Bluebird. Here to collect the breakfast trays, are you?”
She was here, now? Lily? Listening to his stupid lies about nonexistent girlfriends back home?
Horrified, Sam spun around on the bed. Gordy was alone, sitting on his bunk wearing a very wicked grin.
“Yeah, that’s you all together, ‘Debonair Dwight.’ Far too worldly and sophisticated for the likes of me.”
Sam laughed. He couldn’t help it.
“Ladies don’t always want a gentleman, you know,” Gordy said. “Even if they did, in case you didn’t notice, a damnable war is on. You should bloody well stop mucking about and do something about her, tout suite. She fancies you and you’re not fooling me so stop fooling yourself. You’re crazy about her.”
Sam crossed his arms. “I don’t know what to say to you, Gordy.”
Gordy shook his head and snorted. “She’s the one you should be saying something to, you thick, bloody farmer.”
After dinner, the VADs wheeled cocoa laden carts through the aisles. Midway through service, however, something at the window caught Rose’s eye. Before long, a small gaggle of women had clustered at the window, giggling and sighing. It was most peculiar and Sam wasn’t the only one to think so. The men of the ward quieted their evening conversation, struggling to eavesdrop on the VADs conversation.
“There’s just something about a man on a motorcycle,” said one.
“And in uniform,” another sighed.
“Well, not everyone looks quite like that in khaki. A regular Douglas Fairbanks, he is.” That voice belonged to Rose. Gordy craned his head to glare at the women.
“Pity he’s not injured,” a tremulous voice said. “I wouldn’t mind providing a little tender care to that one.”
The VADs burst into giggles, then immediately split up and resumed delivering cocoa to the men on the ward. After a moment, the ward’s front door banged open. Every head on the ward swiveled toward the man who walked through. Sam could only blink, unsure if his eyes were playing a trick on him.
It was his brother, Baden.
Of course it was Bad. With his intense gray eyes and movie star looks, he’d been collecting quivering groups of admiring girls since he was in diapers.
Sam grinned widely. God, it was good to see the scoundrel.
Baden hadn’t seen him yet, however, and Sam was too far away to call to him without disturbing the other patients. He watched as Rose, blushing furiously enough to suit her name, approached Bad. After a few murmured words, she pointed him in Sam’s direction.
Bad strode toward Sam, but just before he reached his bedside, Lily stepped into the aisle, blocking his path.
“I’m sorry, sir. Not only is it past visiting hours, but Captain Dwight isn’t allowed any guests at present.” Lily’s voice was firm, her presence commanding, even though she stood a good foot shorter than his brother.
Baden smirked, then neatly stepped around her and continued down the aisle.
“Sir,” she said, scrambling ahead of Baden. “I’m quite serious about this. He’s to avoid undue stress. I’m afraid I will have to forbid you seeing him.” She placed her hand in the center of his chest and spread her feet wide apart.
“And you’re going to stop me, are you?” Baden sounded very amused.
“Yes, I am.” Lily said, not removing her hand. “Although I’m not averse to calling in some orderlies for artillery support.”
“Old man?” Baden called over the top of Lily’s head toward Sam. “I could use some help here.”
“Old man?” Lily repeated. She dropped her hand and blinked. “You’re…oh dear, you’re his brother, Baden.”
He grinned widely at that. “Heard of me, have you?”
“I thought you were with his battalion. His brother is a different matter.” Lily stepped aside, then quickly added, “But the order holds. Don’t upset him.”
Baden gave Lily a crisp salute before walking to Sam’s bedside.
“Well, well. Quite velvet here, aren’t you? All set up with four solid walls, sipping on cocoa and surrounded by all these lovely ladies.” Someone
tittered in response. “Here I was worried about you.” Bad pulled out a chair as if he owned the place and settled in beside Sam’s bed.
“It’s damned good to see you, Bad.”
“You too, old man.” Baden patted Sam’s shoulder carefully.
“Can’t imagine how you managed to get away from the front, though. They aren’t exactly giving out passes lately,” Sam said.
“Which is why I didn’t bother to get one.” Baden cocked an eyebrow in Sam’s direction.
“Don’t tell me you’ve gone AWOL.” Sam didn’t even need to ask. It was precisely the kind of thing Baden would do. A pit of dread settled in Sam’s stomach.
“I absolutely won’t tell you that, then. But if I did, I’d have a bloke covering for me. And we shouldn’t be fussing over how I am. The question is how are you?” Baden stretched his long legs out, resting them on the edge of Sam’s bed.
“I’m on the mend,” Sam replied. He longed to tell Baden about his ethereal trips to the front lines. If anyone would embrace the unusual, it would be his younger brother. But the slight look of worry shining behind those familiar gray eyes made Sam hold his tongue. Worrying Bad about a wounded brother was bad enough. He couldn’t be concerned that he’d gone insane as well.
“Jerry got you in the head, did he? That’ll leave a nice scar.” Baden pitched his voice low. “Ladies love the scars, I hear tell.”
Same old Baden. Sam shook his head and laughed. Even that small action kicked his headache into action. Bad seemed to notice immediately, and he sat up, removing his feet from the bed.
“So, why haven’t they sent you back to Blighty by now?” Baden’s expression was serious.
A door banged open at the far end of the ward and the matron entered. She spotted Baden immediately and made a direct march toward them. Her expression was grim, the kind one might wear to greet an invading army.
“Not visiting hours,” the matron barked even before coming to a halt. Sam looked around for Lily, hoping for a little support. To his surprise and disappointment, Lily was dashing to the rear door.
Sam and Baden would have to face the formidable matron on their own then.
“Who are you?” The matron stuck her jaw out at Baden. “What are you doing here?”
“Hello.” Baden gave her a weak smile. “I’m this bloke’s brother. I’m here to sort him out.”
“Your name? Your rank? Your unit?” Matron Marshall was absolutely impervious to Baden’s charms. Possibly the only woman on earth to suffer such an affliction.
“Lieutenant Baden Dwight, ma’am.” Baden offered a quick smile. “I’m with the Royal Flying Corps, First Division. I thought to stop by to see if my brother here—”
“Not at eight o’clock in the evening.” The matron was so incensed she seemed to have difficulty speaking in complete sentences. “Come during the proper time. During visiting hours, not when our patients are getting much needed rest.”
“I couldn’t agree with you more, ma’am.” Baden stood and nodded. “Trick is the Krauts keep pestering me during proper visiting hours, what with their artillery bombardments, their pesky zeppelins bobbing about, Fokkers mucking up the works. If you could manage to have a word with them, I’d be much obliged.”
Baden flashed his most winning smile at Matron Marshall. It had all the effect of a drop of water on a raging inferno.
Matron Marshall flared her nostrils. “You are leaving, Lieutenant. Now. Come with me.” She stepped back, preparing to escort Baden to the door, but before he could move Lily rushed through the back door and scurried toward them.
“Matron, I was wondering if I could speak with you?”
“In a moment,” the matron responded.
“It’s just…” Lily bit her bottom lip, “I saw a couple of fellows moving something from your office and I wasn’t sure…”
“What?”
“Well, it looked like a large plant, ma’am.”
Matron Marshall’s face flushed red and she stood. “You can’t mean my lemon tree. Oh no. Why would someone take Henry?”
Lily bit her lips, composing herself before responding. “I’m sure I’ve no idea, ma’am.”
The matron strode off toward the back door without a backward glance. Lily beamed a grin down at Sam. “I reckon that should buy you at least twenty minutes.”
“Miss Curtis!” Matron Marshall stood at the rear, one hand on the door. “Come along. I’ll need a description.”
“Certainly.” Lily wheeled around and walked toward the rear, taking unhurried steps.
The moment the door closed, Baden clapped his hands together. “Well done! Oh, I like that one, Sam.”
Of course Baden did. Who wouldn’t? Least of all his charming brother. And who was Sam kidding, really? Ten minutes in Baden’s company and he’d have her heart in a box.
“What’s her name?” Bad asked.
“Miss Curtis. Lily Curtis.”
“Well Miss Lily Curtis is certainly a force to be reckoned with. Pity she’s got such poor taste.”
“What are you on about, Bad?” Sam sat up in bed a little. He’d be damned if he’s listen to his brother say a disparaging word about Lily.
“She’s got an eye for you, hasn’t she, old man?” Baden grinned.
“Don’t know why you’d think that.” Sam tried to keep his voice severe, but something inside his chest felt so light that it was difficult to maintain his stiff upper lip.
“Falling on the hand grenade the way she just did. The way she smiled at you. Ooh, Sam. If I didn’t know better, I’d think you were—”
“That’s exactly what I told him, but he wouldn’t listen to me,” Gordy called from behind Baden’s back. If Gordy could put his eavesdropping skills to use for the Allies, they’d win this war in under a week.
Baden turned around. “Oh, hello.” Then he turned back toward Sam and grinned widely. “I think I like this one too.”
Sam groaned. Gordy and Baden leap-frogging around in his love life? With any luck, they’d find the damned tree straightaway.
Chapter Fifteen
As it had turned out, Lily managed to keep the Matron searching for her tree for a good forty-five minutes before finding it beneath the old pile of straight jackets in the rear hall. Sam could only marvel that Lily had hit upon such a clever strategy. She never ceased amazing him.
Baden spent nearly all of his time lecturing his brother in the ways of wooing women, much to Sam’s extreme discomfort and Gordy’s joy. Sam didn’t have the heart to tell the scoundrel that he’d be unable to use any of his advice. Sam knew he’d be hopeless at empty flattery and the thought of flirting with other girls to make Lily jealous made him feel squirmy and guilty. When Baden pulled out of the yard on his bike, another collection of sighing VADs gathered at the window to see him off. Lily rolled her eyes at Sam and they shared a secret smile. As he drifted off to sleep, he was still grinning.
The next morning dawned and another hospital train arrived at the station. Lily headed out the door with a forlorn look in her eyes. Sam was reminded again of how much she dreaded triage.
The next few days went the same way. Sam spent his days listening to Gordy while his unread mail piled up. Though Lily spent her daylight hours at the station, every night she carved time from her hectic schedule to stop by Sam’s bed, late in the evening when the rest of the ward was asleep.
Her visits were never very long—just a few moments, really. They rarely said much. She would ask how he was feeling. He would inquire about her day. As he’d expected, nothing had come of her inquiries about anyone named Buchanan.
Each night after she left, her lavender scent still hung in the air along with so many of his unasked questions.
“Why do you keep stopping by? Are you checking up on me? Making sure I’m not trying to dash my brains out on the stone floor?”
He couldn’t think of a way to ask anything that wouldn’t end up making him sound like a great bloody fool. Thank Christ they hadn’t given him any sedatives in a long while. With a little morphine, he doubted he’d be able to keep his queries locked down where they belonged.
As the days passed, Sam was as good as his word. He followed Lily’s every directive. He didn’t read. He avoided bright lights. He tried to rest as much as possible.
After nearly two solid years of living in a warzone, Sam felt he was drowning in a swamp of calm. To be so far removed from the action pulled steadily on his nerves. How would he ever adjust to life back on the farm?
If, indeed, the farm was still for him.
Did he still belong there? Should he truly possess the ability to save the dying, would going back home be the right thing to do? Would he even be able to carry on his strange battlefield visits from so far away?
He supposed it was all a moot point. He had no way of knowing how long these peculiar visions would continue or how real they might be. He had to smile at his foolishness. Forced into so much tranquility, he’d chosen to fill his mind with strife.
All his mental wanderings were for nothing, anyway. He’d made a promise to Lily and he’d keep it.
Friday afternoon found Sam napping in the nearly abandoned ward. Volunteers from the village, termed ‘Comforters’, had come by and the patients had emptied to the back garden for a play—a comedy by the sounds of laughter floating in through the window. Gordy nearly burst with joy when the buxom French villager attended to him. When she wheeled Gordy out of the ward, Sam thought Gordy might have actually been levitating, just a little bit.
Since Sam’s orders forbade such stimulating activities, he spent the afternoon trying to sleep. Unfortunately, he was having very little success with the endeavor.
When he heard the click, click of approaching footsteps, he glanced over, expecting to see Sister Newell with his mid-day injection of Phenobarbital. Sam was delighted to see Lily instead.
