She turned at a shuffling noise behind her to see Mrs. Galloway standing in the open doorway.
“She misses you very much,” she said.
“She shouldn’t have come,” Therese replied, watching the buggy disappear in the distance. “I’m sorry about that.”
The woman brushed off her apology. “She just wanted to see where you’re working and meet the people you’re living with. I know I would.”
Therese shrugged. “She’s lonely.”
Mrs. Galloway stared out the open door. “A lot of us are…”
Though Therese nodded in response, she couldn’t say the same for herself. She wasn’t lonely, not at all. Yes, she missed Father and Warner and the home they had shared at the academy, but that was gone. Honestly, it was a relief to be away from Mother and her gloominess. Therese enjoyed teaching the Galloway girls and volunteering at the hospital. Even in the horror of the war around them, this new chapter felt like a fresh beginning.
But she wouldn’t say any of that to Mrs. Galloway. “What do you miss the most about home?” Therese asked as they stepped into the row house.
“Family,” Mrs. Galloway answered. “My parents have passed on, but Patrick’s folks and brother live on the Galloway estate outside New Orleans, where we have a home too. Patrick would travel into the city to practice law, and the girls and I would spend our days on the estate with his family. Neither Patrick nor I wanted to come to Virginia, but his father told him it was the opportunity of a lifetime.” Mrs. Galloway lowered her voice as she rested her hand on her belly. “Oh, I long for this war to be over.”
Therese agreed. They were all weary of it. She patted the woman’s shoulder. “I’ll go collect the girls. You should rest more.”
“Thank you.” She took a step away, but then she turned her head. “Thank you, too, for being here instead of at home with your mother. I feel selfish saying it, but I’m grateful we get to have you.”
Mrs. Galloway knew nothing of Therese’s stand against slavery and how that had been the impetus for her coming here, and she had no intention of telling her. Instead, she just nodded humbly and then turned to go. As she moved toward the stairs, she said a prayer for her mother, asking the Lord to give her strength.
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
Therese
On Sunday, after church, Therese again walked to the hospital with Polly. They both wore wool cloaks and hoods, trying to stay dry against the pounding rain. Therese stepped in a puddle by accident, and water filled her boots. She needed a new pair, but of course there was no money for such a thing. Aggie and Auntie Vera needed footwear far more than she did. She’d have to try to repair hers.
“Did you hear Rose O’Neal Greenhow drowned?” Polly asked.
Therese stopped in shock. It had seemed the woman was invincible—until now. “When? And how?”
“Yesterday. Off the coast of North Carolina, near Wilmington. The Condor ran aground. She made it into a lifeboat, but it capsized.”
Therese gasped. “Oh, goodness.”
“She had more than two thousand dollars in gold sewn into her underclothes and around her neck, royalty money from her book. At least that’s what Mr. Baxter heard.”
Therese shook her head at the irony of it. Perhaps Mrs. Greenhow would have survived without the weight of the gold. She didn’t admire the woman’s loyalties, but she’d been inspired by her courage and spunk and was now saddened by her tragic passing.
When they reached the hospital, Matron Webb met them in the foyer and instructed them to hang their cloaks and go to the kitchen for a cup of tea before they started. “Do your best to dry off,” she said. “We can’t have you getting ill.”
Polly led the way toward the kitchen but then stopped, whispering, “Oh, bother. We don’t want to waste time on getting a cup of tea when soldiers need to be cared for.”
Therese agreed. The rain hadn’t been particularly cold, and she wasn’t chilled. They put aprons over their plain black dresses and headed up the stairs to the supply closet. They filled basins with water and grabbed cloths from the shelves. When they reached the east ward, Dr. Talbot was making his rounds.
“Polly,” he called out from one bedside. “Would you come here a moment?”
Polly put her basin and cloth on a table, stepped closer, and peered down at the soldier lying on his side in front of them.
“He just came in on the train,” Dr. Talbot said. “What do you think of this wound?”
Polly studied the patient for a moment. “It looks as if the bullet went through his bladder and out his back.”
“Correct.”
“Will you operate?”
“Yes. I’ll repair the wounds, and hopefully the bladder will heal.”
Therese couldn’t imagine what life would be like for the soldier if it didn’t. Not wanting to stare, she turned her attention to her own duties, cloth and basin in hand, and went over to the first bed along the wall. As she began bathing the soldier there, she heard Dr. Talbot instruct Polly to give the soldier with the bladder wound some whiskey, saying that would help him until they could put him under for surgery.
He moved on to the next man after that, the three of them each tending to their own duties. Soon, however, Polly started telling him all about another patient, one she’d cared for on Wednesday. Dr. Talbot was in the middle of another examination by then, but he didn’t seem to mind her chatter.
“He’d been hit with shrapnel in the throat,” Polly was saying as she poured some whiskey into an invalid feeder, a little cup with a long spout. “He nearly fell into the James River.”
“So, north of here?” the doctor asked.
“Just a bit to the north.”
Right about where General Lee split his troops, Therese thought, recalling the story in the newspaper.
“He was hit in the chest too, and that wound seemed to be worse,” Polly continued. She trickled the whiskey into the soldier’s mouth, causing him to sputter a little, but then he swallowed.
“Someone else already told me about that patient,” Dr. Talbot said. “I’m not sure what the outcome was, though. Keep your eye out for him.”
“Will do.”
When Dr. Talbot reached a man with a wounded arm, he asked Therese to help him change the dressing. She put down her basin.
“Wash your hands first with soap,” he added, nodding toward the station by the door. “Then grab some gauze and a clean cloth.” He motioned toward the cupboard. “And scissors.”
“Yes, sir.”
Dr. Talbot gave her an amused glance, and she curtsied. When she returned, he was stripping the dressing, revealing a weeping wound. The smell caught Therese off guard, and she gasped.
Without looking up, the doctor asked, “Are you all right?”
“Yes.” The soldier had his eyes on the doctor and didn’t seem to notice her reaction. The gaping wound oozed pus and blood.
“There was nothing to stitch here.” Dr. Talbot studied the wound. “We have to hope this will eventually heal on its own.”
The soldier, who had a babyish face, winced. “Them Yankees must be using poisoned bullets.”
Dr. Talbot shook his head. “They’re not poisoned, but the bullets are designed to tear through tissue and do as much harm as possible.” He dropped the dressing into a bucket, saying under his breath, “One of the many atrocities of war.”
Therese cut a strip of gauze the same length as the previous one.
“Another problem,” he continued, “is that there’s not enough water and soap in the field hospitals. Even if all of the surgeons on the front lines understood that good hygiene can help prevent infection, they wouldn’t have the needed resources. Granted, some infections originate here, but most of the injured are infected by the time they arrive.”
Therese concentrated on the doctor’s words, not the wound, as she avoided taking a deep breath. She couldn’t imagine why better hygiene would prevent infection, but he seemed so intelligent, she had a feelin
g he was right.
The doctor pulled a pair of tweezers from his kit. Therese turned her head toward the soldier, whose eyes were wild with pain.
“Where are you from?” she asked.
“North Carolina, up in the highlands. My parents have a little farm.” He gritted his teeth as the doctor tugged at the wound. “I’m the oldest of eleven. I got conscripted last year and ain’t been home since.” He lowered his voice. “Worst mistake I ever made, not running the other way. I been so homesick. When I got shot, I called out for my ma like I was a baby.” He seemed to find comfort in talking. “Now I’m gonna be maimed and not much use to my pa. I just hope I can keep my arm…” He looked around. “It’s not right how men who have twenty slaves or more don’t have to fight while those of us who have none do.”
Therese gave him a sympathetic nod and took another shallow breath.
“I’m finished.” Dr. Talbot put the tweezers down.
The young man exhaled. “I ’preciate your care, Doc. And I don’t mean to complain. So many are worse off than me.”
“That may be true.” Dr. Talbot took the gauze from Therese. “But you can’t help but be in pain.” He looked up at Therese. “Give him more morphine when we’re done.”
She nodded.
“How does it look?” The soldier raised his head, trying to see.
“It’s still infected.”
“No better?”
Dr. Talbot shook his head, a sad expression on his face, as he applied the gauze.
“Am I going to lose it?”
“I don’t know yet. We’ll give it more time—and prayer.”
“Thank you, sir.” The young man tried to smile. “I’ll gladly take both.”
From Therese’s very limited experience, it didn’t seem gangrene had set in. That was the biggest concern. But the wound didn’t look good, that was for sure. She hoped God would answer Dr. Talbot’s prayers, but she also hoped the soldier could handle the possibility of life without his arm.
Her eyes filled with tears at the thought, and Dr. Talbot patted her shoulder.
“I’m sorry. I’ll do a better job trying to control my emotions.”
“No, don’t. We can use some tenderness around here. I admire that in you.” He smiled and then retreated to the washbasin beside the door. Dr. Talbot was the steadiest person she’d ever met. Nothing seemed to faze him.
The afternoon turned into evening, and Polly and Therese fed the soldiers bowls of soup for their supper. Therese declined one herself because her stomach hadn’t settled since helping Dr. Talbot, but Polly stopped to eat.
Nothing seemed to bother Polly either. Several times she assisted the doctor, asking to be involved in the hardest cases. She changed the dressings on several wounds herself. Therese hadn’t realized Polly knew so much about medical matters. She used a lot of unfamiliar terminology and seemed to understand whatever Dr. Talbot explained. Therese couldn’t help but be impressed by her friend.
When it was time to leave, Polly said she planned to stay another hour or so. “You go on home,” she told Therese. “We’ll find someone to walk with you.”
Dr. Talbot was a few beds away. “I’m leaving in a few minutes,” he said. “I’d be happy to escort you, Miss Jennings.”
Therese thanked him and then asked Polly how she would get home.
“One of the orderlies will be leaving around then.”
“All right.” Therese wished Polly were leaving now. Therese admired Dr. Talbot, but she wasn’t sure if she could carry on a conversation with him for half a mile. Next to her father, she was sure he was the smartest person she’d ever met. Polly would have no trouble thinking of what to say, but Therese feared she wouldn’t be able to contribute much to a conversation with him. She admired him, yes, but she didn’t feel she was his equal—not at all.
Therese waited on the front steps for Dr. Talbot. It was completely dark except for the light from the streetlamps and a few stars peeking through the clouds. She took a deep breath and exhaled slowly. The rain had stopped, leaving a fresh, hopeful scent.
The wards were fairly well ventilated, with windows left open even in the chill, but still the odor of blood, lye, and chloroform lingered, plus the ever-present stench of decay. She took in another big breath. At least she could leave, unlike the majority of the people in the building. Her eyes filled with tears at the injustice of it all. The young farm boy from North Carolina hadn’t wanted to get caught up in a war that had little to do with him. All he wanted was to be with his family, working on his father’s farm. She blinked as the front door opened and Dr. Talbot came down the steps, holding his hat in his hands. “Sorry to keep you waiting.”
“It’s fine. I needed to catch my breath.”
“Yes.” He put his wide-brimmed hat on top of his head. “That’s important.”
“Well, I have no reason, based on the little I’m doing, to compare my needs to yours, especially when you seem to be able to work nonstop.”
“That’s not true.” He placed his hand on her elbow to steady her and led their way down East Broad Street. “I have to catch my breath too.”
“Which can’t be easy, considering you live and work at the hospital.”
He smiled. “Once a week, I force myself to leave for the night. A Quaker couple lives not too far away, and they let me stay in a guest room. One good night of sleep away from the hospital each week can do wonders.”
“A Quaker couple? Is there a meeting place in Richmond, then?”
“There was, down on Cary Street.” He kept his hand on her elbow. “But it’s been occupied by Confederate soldiers for the last two years. The congregation is quite small, so they take turns meeting in homes now.”
“What brought you to Richmond?”
“Mostly I was inspired by a Quaker nurse from Boston who has been working in the South. I felt led to help out as well, so I wrote to the Confederate surgeon general to see if I could be of assistance.”
“To Dr. Moore,” Therese said, nodding.
“Yes. Do you know him?”
“No, but I’ve heard of him.” In fact, Mr. Galloway had mentioned him at supper the other night.
“I met him in Washington, DC, several years ago. He impressed me. He doesn’t have the resources that the North does, with the blockade and everything.”
“But why would you come here? You’re a Northerner.”
“I’m a Quaker first. A pacifist. I find war reprehensible and have empathy for the victims of both sides. Yes, I’m a Yankee, and I’ve taken care of Northern soldiers too, but it doesn’t matter to me what side they’re on. If they need medical help, I want to provide it.”
Therese remembered Father mentioning a Quaker woman who spied for the Patriots during the Revolutionary War, but usually it seemed Friends remained neutral. “How can someone be both an abolitionist and a pacifist?” she asked, her voice rising. She quickly lowered it. “People are being traded like chattel. Is that not worth fighting against?”
He glanced at her, and she realized she’d just hinted strongly at her own stance as an abolitionist. He seemed to appraise her anew, a slight smile on his lips, and she could feel her cheeks grow warm.
“Well,” he finally answered, “I don’t believe war is the best way to achieve freedom for our enslaved brothers and sisters. I would rather slaveholders had a change of heart or that our government legislated an end to slavery, as was done in England.”
She sighed. “But the South didn’t agree to that,” she responded sadly, admitting to herself once and for all the truth, that she wanted the North to win this war. Yes, she would regret the loss of independence for Virginia and the other southern states, but her time for old loyalties was over. The South had its chance to renounce slavery and had rejected it. Now it needed to lose, even at the cost of states’ rights, and despite all that had been sacrificed.
“The South is the enemy,” she said softly in wonder, as much to herself as to him. To be against slavery wa
s to be against the South.
“Not really the enemy,” he responded, interrupting her thoughts. “More like a prodigal brother. Though yes, I clearly felt God calling me to ‘love my enemy’ by coming here to help.”
They grew quiet for a long moment, but it was a comfortable silence.
“You know,” he said, “there’s an odd confidence in Richmond, as if there’s still a chance the Confederacy might win. But looking at the big picture, I can tell you the war won’t last much longer. The Union will be victorious by spring.”
Therese, encouraged by his words, wasn’t sure what to say in return, and when she didn’t reply at all, Dr. Talbot spoke again, loosening his hold on her elbow. “I apologize. I fear I’ve said too much, regardless of who your father was.”
“Oh, no.” Therese patted his hand. “I appreciate your honesty—and your approach.” He’d found a balance between being helpful and not being harsh, even though it was warranted. “I try to be sensitive in public, but those who know me know I’m in complete agreement with all of my father’s views. It’s how I was raised.” She took a deep breath, realizing she needed to reveal the other side of her family’s story, though. She didn’t want to mislead Dr. Talbot.
She went on to explain that her brother was fighting for the Confederacy and then provided details about her father’s illness and death, about her grandfather’s passing, and about how quickly her mother fell back into the role she’d grown up with at River Pines, a plantation that still held five slaves.
“I couldn’t bear staying. I’m grateful to be needed in Richmond, both as a governess and a nurse.”
“Well, Richmond is grateful you’re here,” he replied, his tone light. “As am I.”
Therese’s heart swelled. Conversing with Dr. Talbot had turned out to be surprisingly easy, and she realized she was actually enjoying herself.
They turned right, alongside the capitol, and passed several Confederate soldiers coming from the opposite direction.
“Tell me about growing up in Maine,” she said, smiling up at him as she steered the conversation to safer ground.
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