by Kathy Otten
Returning to the hospital that evening so mentally refreshed and invigorated, Gracie took a long stroll around the hospital grounds. Awed by the vast expanse of stars in the clear black sky, she stopped near the general office and tipped her head back. She’d heard the sky went on forever, that it had no end. How could scientists know for certain? Although if there actually was an end, what existed beyond that, and beyond that? And where was Heaven? Could William see her? Or Callum or Michael?
“Good evening, Mrs. McBride.”
Gracie gasped, jolted back to earth. She took a step to keep from losing her balance as she sought the person with the voice she didn’t quite recognize.
“Beautiful sky, is it not?” Doctor Bliss walked up beside her. “I bet it’s even prettier away from the city lights.”
“Yes, sir.”
“I’m glad to see you finally took some time away from the hospital. As I told you when you arrived, a day to yourself each week and a daily walk is strongly recommended.”
“Sister Mary and I had a lovely time.”
“Good, glad to hear it. It will be a good thing for you lady nurses once the new quarters are built. The funds have been donated, so hopefully construction will begin as soon as the weather warms.”
“I do not mind being near the patients.”
“Yes, well…” His voice trailed off as he seemed to search for what he really wanted to say. “If you have a few minutes, I’d like to discuss something with you.”
“Certainly.”
He gestured for her to accompany him inside the building, and she followed him to his office. He held the door for her then left it open as she took a seat in front of his desk.
She tried not to fidget, but she wondered what she’d done wrong. Had Doctor Ellard made a complaint? Had he been upset to learn she’d adjusted the knots on the T-bandage used to hold Private Morrison’s catheter in place? William had taught her how to do it. She’d noticed they were loose when she changed his bed the day before. Normally, it was the steward’s job, and the man had been angry when he learned what she’d done. Said he was a medical student, she was only a woman, and that he was registering a complaint with Doctor Ellard.
William had given her life purpose beyond that of childbearing and tending house. She’d come here to help, to do good with all that he’d taught her, but her skills and insights were constantly rejected, merely because she was a woman.
Doctor Bliss seated himself behind his desk and absently stroked his thick sideburns. “You’ve been here nearly a month. How are things going for you?”
“Fine, Doctor.” She laced her fingers together in her lap and rubbed her thumb against her palm.
“You and Captain Ellard seem to get on well together.”
She nodded. “Doctor Ellard be a fine surgeon.”
“I know he can be somewhat abrasive in nature and he, well…let’s just say he can drive grown men to either tears or thoughts of murder.”
She snickered. “They be thoughts I’ve had me own self.”
A quick grin tugged up the corner of his mouth. “You work closely with the man every day, yet you are the only person at this hospital who has not registered a complaint about him.”
“Any issues I be having, I take straight to the man. You can be sure, nary a day passes we don’t have words, but we understand each other. He is a fine doctor, and I’d want no other for me or mine.”
He chuckled. “Glad to hear it.” His posture stiffened slightly, and his smile faded. “As I said, I receive many, many complaints about Doctor Ellard, so many in fact that it becomes difficult to separate the wheat from the chaff as it were.”
Gracie’s thumb pressed deep against the center of her palm. A quiver of dread rippled through her stomach.
“Captain Ellard will know nothing of our conversation tonight. I will keep everything between us completely confidential, so please answer truthfully, Mrs. McBride.”
Sweet Mary Jesus, what had the fool man done?
“What do ye need to know?”
“To the best of your knowledge has Captain Ellard ever been drunk while on duty?”
“No, Doctor, never.”
“And you have never smelled alcohol on his breath then known him to operate in that condition on a patient?”
Icy cold slid to the base of her spine, as though Callum had shoved a ball of snow down the back of her dress. The truth stuck in her throat. If she said yes, would Doctor Ellard be brought up on charges? Would he lose his rank, his ability to practice medicine?
She met Doctor Bliss’ gaze across the width of the desk. The truth was there, in his eyes. He already knew the answer, now he was waiting to see if she would lie about it.
“Sunday past be the only time I ever caught the scent o’whiskey on Doctor Ellard’s breath.”
Doctor Bliss scribbled something on the sheet of paper in front of him.
“But he was not on duty at the time.” She quickly added. “I sent Robbie to fetch him. And to be sure, he wasn’t drunk when he arrived. His hand was as steady—”
“Excuse me, you said you sent for Captain Ellard. Why? According to my notes here Doctor Colfax was on duty at the time.”
“The patient could not breathe. I sent Corporal Reid for the closest doctor. But Sergeant Baker be Doctor Ellard’s patient. I thought he ought to know.”
“So you summoned Doctor Colfax…” Doctor Bliss repeated as he wrote. A moment later he looked up, locking his gaze on hers like a cat waiting to pounce.
“Mrs. McBride, did Doctor Ellard, in a drunken state, physically shove aside Doctor Colfax and Medical Cadet Emerson, preventing them from performing their duty, then cut open the patient’s throat with hands shaking from drunken tremors, putting that patient’s life at risk by performing the procedure incorrectly?”
Stunned, Gracie could only blink stupidly at the man for several moments. Then gradually the anger rose inside her at the audacity of the man she knew had made this allegation. “Are ye wanting the honest truth, or have ye already made up yer mind?”
Doctor Bliss drew himself up indignantly. “I have not made up my mind, and I’ll thank you to extend me the courtesy of the truth.”
“I’m sorry. Ye have the right of it. I’ve always seen ye as a just man, but if ye want the truth then by the saints ye shall have it.” She drew a breath and continued.
“Doctor Colfax and Cadet Emerson do not belong in a hospital. Sweet Mary Jesus, the patient had fair turned blue, and they did naught, but tell me ’twas nothing to be done. If Doctor Ellard had not shoved them aside, I would have.
“He may have had a sip or two o’whiskey, but he was not drunk.”
She stood, and Doctor Bliss was forced by decorum to rise as well. Stepping close, her thighs bumped the edge of the desk.
His eyes widened, and his brows rose. He likely imagined she was about to climb over the desk after him.
Neglecting to speak of the tremors she’d seen in Doctor Ellard’s hands, she pressed her finger tips against the wooden surface and leaned forward.
Doctor Bliss pulled back.
“I cannot speak to the placement of the tube, high or low, but Sergeant Baker be alive today because o’ Doctor Ellard,” Gracie continued. “I cannot believe that jealous, spiteful old goat and his toady dared to twist the truth then make report of it.”
He glanced down at the papers in front of him for a moment. “Well then, Mrs. McBride.” He looked up. “I thank you for your time and your input into this matter.”
“Ye are welcome, Doctor Bliss.”
“And remember this conversation is confidential. No one should know what we discussed here tonight.”
She nodded and stepped to the door.
“I hope he appreciates you.”
Confused, she turned back.
Doctor Bliss gave his side burns a thoughtful stroke. “Since Captain Ellard arrived at this hospital in January, I have never seen anyone rise to his defense the way you have. Unusual, d
on’t you think, coming from someone who admits to arguing with the man every day?”
Unwilling to consider the implications of his observation, Gracie left the office and hurried to her room.
****
She tried not to watch Doctor Ellard the next morning as he made his rounds, but her gaze continually wandered in his direction. Doctor Bliss’ comment continued to drone on in the back of her mind, forcing her to ask herself what it was about the rude, condescending, yet brilliant surgeon that had inspired her to defend him so vehemently. Each time their eyes met, he seemed to draw further into himself, making that invisible wall around him a little more impenetrable.
There was nothing remarkable about his appearance, except that he was so much taller than everyone else, and his eyes were a striking shade of crystal blue, like sunlight streaming through an empty bottle of camphor. His angular features were rather plain, aside from the bump distorting the line of his nose, and the thin white scar which cut across the corner of his chin. He frowned more than he smiled, but when he was amused, his mouth quirked up in a shy, almost endearing way.
Yet, while his physical attributes were no finer than those of any other man, there was something about Charles Ellard that had roused in her such loyalty she’d lied for him. Not a lie exactly. An omission of truth. That his hand shook had nothing to do with any whiskey he may have had. She was certain. It was something much deeper, and something Colfax and his minion had no need of knowing.
He carried himself with such an extraordinary sense of presence he automatically commanded respect every time he entered the ward, yet there was something private and vulnerable about the man.
“Is Cap’n Ellard mad at you?” Robbie asked.
The food for the special diets noon meal had arrived, and she and Robbie portioned it according to the list she’d made after morning rounds.
Beef broth spilled across her hand. Startled back to the present, she set down the cup and ladle then gave her hand a shake to whisk away the hot soup, before wiping her fingers dry with her apron.
“No, ’tis all fine,” she replied hastily. She grabbed a rag to clean up the puddle.
Across the table, a quick derisive snort rumbled from the back of Robbie’s throat.
She looked up to meet his gaze. “If ye have something to say, Robbie Reid, then ye’d best spit it out.”
He shifted his weight back and forth and toyed with the spoon in his hand. “Well, I reckon we’d all like it better iffen he was.”
“What are ye going on about?”
“I—I mean we all noticed how you both been lookin’ at each other, but ain’t said two words all mornin’. An’ Cap’n Ellard ain’t yelled at Corporal Timon one time. Well, if that’s how it is when he ain’t mad, then I reckon we all like it better when he is.”
“Are ye saying our disagreements be fodder for yer entertainment?”
“No. Well, yeah, I reckon. But it ain’t like ya think. I mean, look around. It’s purt near as quiet as the dead house.”
Gracie turned and let her gaze travel around the ward. The patients were either lying silently in their beds or talking in whispers. The usual buzz of conversation and occasional bursts of laughter were absent. Then again, they had gotten wounded men the other day. Gracie just assumed the unusual stillness was out of respect for their comrades.
“All the men like ya a lot,” Robbie continued, setting down the spoon and tearing a piece of bread from the loaf. “And there ain’t no doctor better than Cap’n Ellard. The men feel safe knowin’ come hell or high water, he’ll do all he can to save ’em. And when you two start scrappin’, well, ’scuse me ma’am, fer sayin’ it, but it’s funny. Goin’ toe to toe with the man like ya do gives the men somethin’ to talk about, to look forward to, so’s they got somethin’ else to think on, ’sides how much they hurt, and how sick they feel, and how far away home is.”
An odd pressure swelled inside her chest. While it hadn’t been so very long since Robbie had lain wounded in one of these beds, shame washed through her for not noticing what her young orderly had so easily perceived.
Her gaze swung around the ward again, except now it was as if the smudges had been wiped from a window pane and she could suddenly see the large room through clear glass. Robbie even appeared more mature.
She gave him a nod. “Ye are a wise man, Robbie Reid.”
The tension eased from his body, and he flashed his usual crooked grin.
“But who amused ye before I come? Did Doctor Ellard argue with the nurse who worked before me?”
Robbie shook his head. “I ain’t even sure what his name was.” He ripped bread into small pieces and dropped them into a bowl of milk. “Peter, maybe, but he never argued with Cap’n Ellard, he was too scairt. He was always droppin’ things though. We used to have a bettin’ pool fer how many things he’d drop, ’specially when Cap’n Ellard was around. I even won a couple a dollars a few times.” Picking up a spoon, he pressed the small pile of bread down into the milk.
“I don’t remember who was the nurse a’fore him, and ’fore that there was a different doctor.”
Gracie began matching the special diets with the bed numbers. “I thought Doctor Ellard had been here a long time.”
“No, ma’am. The battle of Fredericksburg was in December, a week or so a’fore Christmas. ’Member I tolt ya, Cap’n Ellard went looney—”
She held up her hand, halting his words. Maybe she should have let Robbie continue so she could finally learn what had happened. Had it been something similar to the other night? Or had it been something worse? Then again, maybe it was better this way. It might be harder to argue with the man if she saw him as vulnerable.
Maybe, like Doctor Ellard, she preferred the invisible wall around him to remain intact. Doctor Bliss’ words echoed inside her head once more. Shoving them aside she said, “We best get these men fed. Where have Micah and Harvey gone?”
“Micah went to fetch clean bedding for Harvey.” With a vague gesture of his hand, Robbie pointed down the ward. “Harvey’s changin’ bed twelve. That feller what got shot in the stomach pissed himself…” his voice trailed off and his face turned red. “Sorry, ma’am, in…inter…intercontinent…”
“Incontinent, and ’tis fine, Robbie. I would not be here if a bit o’coarse talk could send me into a swoon.”
He laughed. “No, ma’am, I reckon not.”
They each took a tray and starting at opposite ends of the ward, fed dinner to those men unable to eat a regular meal or make it to what the men called the grub room.
Part way down the ward, she spotted Major Carlton sitting in his wheeled chair, while another man in civilian dress packed up the major’s few belongings.
As she approached he turned and smiled. “Good afternoon, Gracie.”
“Are ye leaving us now, Major?”
His smile faded when she used his rank instead of his given name.
She liked him, she really did. He was a nice man, sensitive and funny, and he loved music as much as she. But after they’d gone to the lecture the other night, she sensed he wanted to move their relationship beyond the casual into something more like courtship. Maybe Doctor Ellard had the right of it after all.
The major nodded. Instead of the eagerness she expected to see in his face, his smile seemed forced, his eyes shadowed with apprehension.
“I’d like to introduce you to my brother, Samuel. Sam, this is Nurse McBride. She’s the wonderful nurse who made this place bearable.”
Heat spread across her cheeks.
Sam smiled and bowed.
With her hands full, Gracie could only return his greeting with a nod. “A pleasure to meet ye.”
Before the major could say more than she wanted to hear, she nodded toward the bed across the aisle and a few spaces down. “Excuse me, but I must be about me duties.”
The major pressed his lips together in a bitter smile but gave her an accepting nod.
Guilt tweaked her heart. She reall
y did like him, but William was the only man she’d ever love. “Don’t ye worry now, I’ll not let ye leave without saying goodbye.”
The rigid line of his shoulders softened a bit. “Good, because I have something I want to give you.”
“I’ll not forget.” She smiled and turned away, ashamed for wanting to escape the man.
When she reached the patient with the abdominal wound, she set her broth cup and spoon on the small table beside a wooden pyramid puzzle. Obviously, someone had managed to do what Robbie and Micah could not.
Glancing at the card above the bed, she noticed someone had finally written in the patient’s name. The night orderly must have gotten it during his shift. While Gleason was obviously clever with puzzles, his penmanship needed a great deal of improvement. Aside from the clearly printed capital S and B, she could only blink at the rest of the barely legible scrawl as she tried to form the lines and bumps into a name that made sense.
“Private Bragg?” She pulled the wooden chair, already positioned between the beds, as close to him as she could. “Simon?” she prodded gently.
He opened his eyes and fixed his glassy brown gaze on her face. He blinked as though surprised to find her sitting there.
“Are ye thirsty?”
Fever reddened the cheekbones of his otherwise pale face.
Without waiting for a response, she levered the head of his bed up a bit, then carefully spooned broth between his dry lips until the cup was empty.
She rose then stretched the ache from her spine. “I’ll be back with a cool cloth for yer head.”
Leaving Micah, Robbie, and Harvey to finish up the meals, Gracie filled a basin with cold water and returned to bed twelve. Wringing out several cloths, she lay one across his forehead, slipped one behind his neck, and tucked two more inside each armpit.
“I’ll come back later with fresh water.” She adjusted his blanket then picked up the basin. Mindful of spilling the contents, she maneuvered carefully around the chair, took two steps forward, and slammed into something solid.
