by Stacy Henrie
“Good night, Corporal Campbell.”
He sensed her watching him, but he wouldn’t turn his head. “Good night, Ev—” He bit back her first name. “Good night, Nurse Gray.”
She hesitated by his bed a moment or two longer, then spun on her heel and walked away. Joel placed his hand on the spot where she’d sat next to him, though the blanket no longer held the warmth of her presence. The sooner he left here, the better. The last thing he needed was to heap more guilt on himself by harboring an attraction for his best friend’s girl.
* * *
Evelyn leaned against the wall in the hallway and examined her bandaged hand. The feel of Joel’s capable fingers lingered like cologne on her skin. She hadn’t wanted to see what was disturbing his sleep, hadn’t wanted to talk to him at all after he’d guessed the truth about her and Ralph. And yet his quick jokes and genuine concern for her well-being had almost succeeded in tearing through her defenses. Especially when she’d once again felt that lightning sensation at his touch.
What am I doing? She moaned and pressed the bridge of her nose, a headache already building. She shouldn’t be thinking about another soldier in such a way. Ralph was the man she loved, and if she could no longer have him in her life, then she wouldn’t add insult to injury by breaking the rules all over again.
She lowered her hand to her back and massaged the sore muscles. Her feet ached, too, and if she didn’t keep sipping coffee, her eyes wouldn’t stay open.
Pushing off the wall, she went to inspect the other ward, but a surge of nausea hit her full force. When had she last eaten? Evelyn clapped a hand to her mouth and rushed into the bathroom. She made it just in time to relieve her coffee-drowned stomach into the sink. Once she finished retching, she washed her mouth and face.
The fatigue of being pregnant and performing the night shift, while also avoiding Joel, had taken more of a toll on her body than she’d thought. Her limbs felt shaky and her head had begun to swim with dizziness. Evelyn slid to the floor. Hot tears pooled in the corners of her eyes as she drew her knees to her chest and laid her chin on top.
“We need sleep, don’t we, little one?” she murmured.
Her heavy eyelids drooped, taunting her to give in to the sleep she craved so badly. But she couldn’t be caught sleeping. Not when she needed to be the best nurse at the hospital.
She pushed herself back to her feet and left the bathroom. When she entered the other ward, she found the two nurses on duty talking quietly in a corner of the room, instead of seeing to patients. They straightened to attention when Evelyn strode toward them.
“Is there a problem?” Perhaps they were discussing what to do about one of the soldiers.
Both nurses shook their heads. One of them, a blonde named Sophie Whiteson, blushed. “I was only telling Abigail my news. We made sure all of our patients were cared for first.”
“And what is the news?” Evelyn asked, doing her best to sound more interested than she felt.
Nurse Whiteson smiled. “Sister Marcelle told me today I’m being transferred to the front lines. I leave in two days.” She clasped her hands to her chest. “I can’t wait. I’ve been wishing for this since I came to France.”
“You’re so lucky,” Abigail Tabbott gushed. “I hope I get transferred there.”
Why? Evelyn bit back the question. She’d never understood the other nurses’ fascination, at St. Vincent’s or at the other hospital where she’d worked, to serve at the front lines. While she wanted to help wherever she was assigned, she preferred doing it somewhere with regular hours and breaks, nice accommodations, and little danger.
“You never know.” Nurse Whiteson gave her friend’s arm a reassuring pat. “You know how the Army is—one week you’re here and the next you could be at the front. You could be transferred there anytime.”
The two of them moved away to check on the patients, leaving Evelyn alone—and shaken. You could be transferred there anytime. Nurse Whiteson’s optimistic words repeated in Evelyn’s head, but they had taken on an ominous, foreboding tone. She dropped into a seat at the nearby table, unable to remain on her feet any longer.
When she had formed her plan regarding what to do about her pregnancy, she’d completely overlooked the possibility of being transferred again. At any moment, she could be assigned to the front lines. What would she do then?
She could refuse to go, on the grounds that she was pregnant, but then she might not have garnered enough support from the sisters to be allowed to stay at St. Vincent’s. On the other hand, she couldn’t go to the front while she was carrying a child. The long hours, the cold and the mud, the Germans close by—that wasn’t a place for a pregnant nurse. Neither was the harried pace of the front conducive to leniency. The Army was more likely to arrange for her passage home, once they learned about the baby, than to find her a different, safer situation.
Her headache intensified at the predicament, along with the sickness in her stomach. But now fear mingled with the nausea. Evelyn picked up the ledger book from the table, but when she tried to read the notes, her mind refused to process the information. A fresh wave of dizziness swept over her. She shut her eyes against the tilting room, unaware of anyone’s approach until someone touched her sleeve.
“Evelyn?”
She opened her eyes to find Nurse Whiteson staring at her with a worried expression. “Are you sick?”
Evelyn opened her mouth to deny it, but the words wouldn’t come. She felt so weary and ill at the moment she no longer cared if she were discharged on the spot—as long as she could sleep before leaving.
“You look white as a ghost. Why don’t you go back to your room?” Nurse Whiteson gestured to the hallway. “There are only a few hours until our shift ends anyway. We’re fine here, and I’m sure the others can get along well enough for a little longer.”
Evelyn slowly rose. She could muster up the energy to finish her shift, couldn’t she? But the thought of sleep—and the chance to forget about Joel and Ralph and her ruined plans—proved too tantalizing for her fatigued mind and body. “Are you sure?”
Nurse Whiteson nodded and gave her a gentle push toward the door. “Go sleep. We’ll be fine.”
Evelyn wanted to beg her not to tell Sister Marcelle about leaving the shift early, but that would only raise suspicion. Instead she’d get some much-needed sleep, then throw her reputation on the good graces of her fellow nurses.
She left the ward and descended the stairs, gripping the banister tight to keep from stumbling in her tired, dizzy state. Rather than winding her way to the back of the building, she let herself out the main doors. Dark still cloaked the world outside the hospital. Evelyn welcomed the coolness of the predawn against her flushed cheeks. The air tasted of dew as she inhaled deeply.
Removing her cap, she walked around the hospital and across the lawn to the nurses’ building. She added her shoes to the cap in her hands and crept up the stairs. When she reached her and Alice’s room, she climbed onto her bed without bothering to change out of her uniform and apron. Within moments, sweet slumber claimed her.
* * *
Daylight nudged Evelyn awake. She blinked at the sunshine pouring through the slit in the curtains. Stretching, she sat up. Alice’s bed was empty, as she’d expected. On the bedside table, someone had placed a plate of dried toast. An unexpected but welcome surprise. The small meal would allow her to stay out of the dining room for a while and hopefully keep the others—especially Sister Marcelle—from learning she’d left her shift early.
Evelyn picked up the plate, suddenly famished. A folded note dropped to the wood floor, and she bent to collect it. She sampled a bite of the toast, then opened the note. Alice’s name was scrawled along the bottom.
I heard you weren’t feeling well. Hope this toast I commandeered from Cook will help.
Evelyn smiled.
I’ll check in on you later when my shift is over.
P.S. Sister Marcelle asked me to tell you she wants to visit w
ith you at 3:00 today.
The single bite in Evelyn’s stomach felt as heavy as a mortar shell. The head sister wanted to meet with her. She hadn’t escaped the consequences of leaving her shift. She’d only fooled herself into thinking sleep would somehow change things.
A glance at the clock on the bureau confirmed she had only a few hours before her meeting. The thought revived her queasiness from earlier and she fled to the bathroom. Though the feeling eventually faded, Evelyn felt every bit as shaky and dizzy as she had before sleeping. She returned to her bed and forced down a few more bites of toast. She attempted to sleep, but every time she started to doze, she saw the disappointed faces of her grandmother and grandfather in her mind’s eye.
Finally she gave up trying to fall back asleep. She removed her wrinkled dress and stained apron for her other pair. A glance at her stomach drew an audible groan from her lips. There was a slight bump there she’d been too busy or too tired to notice sooner.
Panic made her fingers shake as she pulled on a clean dress and utility apron. Sister Marcelle would likely question her health after Evelyn had abandoned her shift early this morning. What should she say in response? She couldn’t hide her exhaustion and sickness much longer.
Evelyn paced the small room. The four walls seemed to press in on her, and the air felt too stale and hot. There had to be a way to avoid telling everyone the truth this soon, a way to avoid being transferred to the front. But what? She tried to breathe in deeply, but her chest felt tight. Nausea threatened again, but she clamped her teeth against it.
No wonder she couldn’t think or breathe. The room was stifling. She knelt on her bed and wrenched the window open, inhaling deep gulps of the cooler outside air. On the lawn below, several soldiers sat reading or dozing in chairs. To one side, a soldier, attempting to walk, leaned heavily on a cane, while a nurse hovered near him. Evelyn peered more closely at the man. It was Joel. She glanced at the hand he’d bandaged last night. Next to Ralph, she hadn’t met another soldier as genuine and kind as Joel Campbell.
She watched as he limped a few steps, then stopped to rest with the aid of his cane. Even without seeing his face clearly, she could guess at the determination etched there. He would do all he could to leave as quickly as possible. Then he’d be gone. The thought filled her with a sharp sense of sadness. She would miss his kindness and his sense of humor and, most of all, his connection to Ralph.
What would happen to Joel when he went home, now that he couldn’t have the big family he’d always wanted? He would still make a good husband, if he could find someone willing to accept not having children. Perhaps a widow with a child of her own.
Evelyn rested her head against the window frame. The fresh air had calmed her nausea, but it hadn’t assuaged her frazzled nerves. She still had to face Sister Marcelle and the reality of being discharged much sooner than she’d planned. If only she and Ralph had been able to marry before he’d been killed…
A flash of brilliance made her sit up straight. If she married someone else, she could avoid devastating her grandparents and being transferred, too. But who would she marry here? Her gaze drifted out the window and alighted on Joel. Like a kaleidoscope coming into focus, her scattered thoughts coalesced into a plan. She would ask Corporal Joel Campbell to marry her. He would still have the chance to be a father, to her child, and she would no longer be an unwed nurse with a baby on the way. She would be helping both of them with her proposal.
The longer she pondered the bold idea, the better it sounded. Setting her jaw, Evelyn put on her shoes and left the room. Her heart drummed faster, almost painfully so, as she rushed down the stairs. It would work—it had to work. And the sooner she presented her plan to Joel and gained his approval, the better. Then she could face Sister Marcelle with the hope that even if she were discharged today, she wouldn’t seal her grandparents’ failing health by showing up unannounced and pregnant.
Outside Evelyn headed straight toward Joel. She needed to conjure up some reason to take over helping him walk, in order to talk to him. To her relief, she saw the nurse with him was none other than shy Nurse Shaw.
Evelyn tucked an errant curl back beneath her nurse’s cap and smoothed the front of her apron. She must look her best.
“Nurse Shaw?” Evelyn kept her tone light and friendly as she approached the two. Joel twisted to face her. Was that anticipation in his hazel eyes at seeing her? She didn’t have time to analyze it. “Have you had lunch yet?”
Nurse Shaw shot a glance at Joel and shook her head.
“I’ve already eaten,” Evelyn explained, “so I can relieve you here, if you’d like.”
The other nurse hesitated a moment. “All right. If you’re sure.”
Evelyn nodded. “How far did you plan to walk?”
“To there.” Nurse Shaw pointed to the nearest corner of the hospital.
“Don’t I get any say in how far we go?” Joel muttered darkly, but his mouth twitched with a hidden smile.
Nurse Shaw relinquished her post at his right side to allow Evelyn to take her place. “Shall we?” she asked Joel as the other nurse headed across the lawn.
He glanced from her to the hospital. “I think Nurse Shaw may have been a bit ambitious.”
“Probably at Nurse Thornton’s bidding. Would you rather rest?” She held her breath, hoping he’d agree. Sitting down would mean a chance to reveal her plan to him.
He eyed the distance again, then shook his head. “I’ll keep going.”
Evelyn swallowed a sigh of momentary defeat. Surely a few more minutes wouldn’t make a difference. There was still plenty of time to talk to him before she faced Sister Marcelle.
Joel shuffled forward, most of his weight on his cane. Evelyn walked alongside him and kept close watch in case he looked as if he might fall. “You’re doing rather well for your first day out of bed.”
“Do you mean that?” he said, throwing her a quick look. “Or is that what you say to all your patients when they’re sweating like pigs after going five steps?”
Evelyn couldn’t help laughing. “No, really. I mean it.”
After another four or five steps, he stopped. His shoulders rose and fell with labored breaths. The corner of the hospital stood a good ten feet away still.
“Keep going or rest?” she prodded gently.
“Keep going.”
The muscles in his jaw tightened as he moved forward one step, then another. Evelyn studied his profile as she moved slowly alongside him. No one would deny he was handsome. But could she imagine Joel as her husband? She still knew very little about him, and he even less about her. And yet her plan gave them both what they wanted out of life. While it might not be a marriage born of love, she believed they could be happy. Couldn’t they?
Joel edged ahead of her, his face a mask of stone, his gaze riveted on the corner of the hospital. Beads of sweat had formed on his forehead, but he plodded forward.
“You’re almost there.” She’d never spent time with the soldiers learning to walk and move about again, but she liked seeing Joel’s progress. “Just a little farther.”
With a single cry and a slight lunge, he crossed the final few feet and slapped his hand against the gray stone wall of the hospital. His breath was coming so hard he had to bend over, but he threw her a triumphant smile first. It was the first real smile she’d seen on him since his arrival at St. Vincent’s, and Evelyn felt a strange thrill in her stomach at having it bestowed on her.
“Take that,” he said, giving the building a whack with his cane. “I’ll be back at the front in no time.”
All the more reason to ask for his help now.
She took a step backward and pointed over her shoulder. “I’m going to get a chair and let you rest here.”
Without waiting for his response, she found an empty lawn chair and proceeded to drag it over to where Joel leaned against the hospital. Once she had him seated, she brought another chair over for herself.
Joel rested his head
on the back of the chair and blew out his breath. “That was harder than I thought it’d be. At home I could run a hundred times that distance and not be winded.”
“Give yourself time. You’ll be back to running before you know it.”
He murmured agreement and shut his eyes. Was he planning to sleep? She needed to talk to him—now—before her meeting with Sister Marcelle. Evelyn threw a furtive glance at the others seated around the lawn. No one was looking in their direction. This was her moment.
She scooted to the edge of her chair and clasped her hands in her lap. Any words she meant to speak, though, became lodged in her throat. The sun felt suddenly too warm, her mouth too dry. Could she really propose marriage to a practical stranger?
The bandage he’d tied around her cut rubbed against her clammy skin. She glanced down at the cloth. Not only was he kind, but Joel was also Ralph’s best friend and the squad leader he’d revered. She had nothing to fear from at least asking.
She pinched her eyes shut for a moment, gathering her courage. When she opened them, she forced herself to speak. “There’s something I need to discuss…with you.”
His eyelids flew open and he shifted slightly toward her. “What’s that?”
“You were right the other night about my…um…condition.”
He didn’t reply, just watched her with those intent hazel eyes.
Evelyn swiped at her forehead. Where had the earlier breeze gone? “Ralph and I were going to be married.” She studied her hands. What sort of ring would he have found her? “Not only because we loved each other, but because of the…” She finished in a whisper, “Baby.”
Joel nodded silently. If only she could read what was going on behind that stoic expression. She swallowed, hoping to restore the moisture to her mouth.
“No else knows, about Ralph or my situation. Not even my grandparents.” The admission tasted as dishonorable on her tongue as it sounded in her head. “I’d hoped I wouldn’t have to tell anyone, at least not until after Ralph and I married and I was discharged. Their health isn’t what it used to be.”
