by Stacy Henrie
“Jules Verne.” He smiled at Louis. “That’s a good one. Do you like it?”
The boy’s skinny shoulders rose in a shrug. “Ma grand-mère read in French so I could understand, but that was when I was little. I cannot read the English.”
“Would you like me to read it to you, Louis?” Evelyn offered. “I can take you in first, Corporal.”
Joel shook his head. “I don’t mind staying outside. Now that I’m sitting.”
Evelyn settled onto the grass and tucked her feet beneath her nurse’s dress. Louis flopped onto his stomach beside her to listen. Opening the book, Evelyn began to read in a clear but soft voice about Phileas Fogg. Joel watched her, enjoying the chance to study her unawares. He’d noticed the weariness emanating from her face and shoulders the other day, but in this moment, she looked content.
She glanced up from the page and smiled at Louis. It was a brief exchange, but long enough to show the tenderness she clearly felt for this young boy. She cared about Louis and enjoyed spending time with him. Would Evelyn ever feel that way about him? Joel wondered.
He squashed the foolish thought. His plan centered on getting to know her, in order to figure out how to assist her. And since marriage was not likely to be the means by which he helped her, feelings were inconsequential.
“Corporal?”
Evelyn’s voice jerked him back to the present. He’d missed most of the story.
“It’s time I get you back.” She rose to her feet in one fluid motion and handed Louis his book. “We might be able to read more tomorrow, if there are no surgeries.”
Louis grinned. “I would like that. Good-bye, Nurse Gray.”
The boy sprinted for the woods, but stopped when Evelyn called out, “Would you like some bread, Louis?”
“Non. Ma mère had a good vegetable day.”
“It was nice to meet you, Louis,” Joel said, lifting his hand to wave. “I’ll try to remember to bring my bird book tomorrow.”
“Okay, Corporal.” He waved back, then darted into the trees.
Evelyn steered Joel’s wheelchair around and pushed him back toward the hospital.
“He seems like a nice kid.”
“He is.” Joel could hear the smile in her voice, even if he couldn’t see it. “Thank you for talking with him. I think he’s lonely. From what he’s said, he was very close to his grandmother. She died some time ago, and then he lost his father. Now there’s only him and his mother.”
Joel glanced up at the sky as she pushed his chair. The sun had shifted behind some clouds, taking a bit of the heat with it. Too bad Evelyn couldn’t stay out longer—it would be nice to have more time to get acquainted with her.
“I suppose Louis and I are sort of alike.” She laughed, but the sound resonated with hollowness. “Not much family left in the world.”
The loneliness behind her words stirred Joel’s sympathies. “I promised I would help you, Evelyn. And I meant it.”
A deep sigh sounded above the creak of the wheels. “I know. Thank you.”
His earlier question about what it might be like to have her as his wife returned to his mind. Evelyn’s uniform might hang like a sack around her, but he imagined the loose fabric hid a rather nice figure. What would it be like to wake with her beside him, knowing she was his? To see that beautiful face relaxed in slumber?
Tightening his grip on the cane in his lap, Joel banished such imaginings from his mind. He wouldn’t propose—or consider proposing—to the wrong girl again. When he did ask that most important of all questions, he wanted to do so with the greatest love and anticipation, for a woman he cared for more than any other person in the world. He wouldn’t propose out of obligation, even to someone beautiful or kind.
Which surely meant Evelyn was not that woman.
Chapter 8
Joel stared at the ceiling, the buzz of insects and conversation wafting through the open window across the room. He wished he could have forgone resting and stayed outside, but he’d insisted on attending church services that morning. With the assistance of one of the nurses and his cane, he managed to walk to and from the stone church behind the hospital. The moment he returned to the recovery ward, though, he felt every inch of the distance he’d traversed and every second seated on the hard pew.
He shut his eyes, but sleep eluded him. The nurse on duty sat writing at the table in the corner. There were only two other patients in the ward besides himself. Everyone else was enjoying the Sabbath day outdoors, including Sergeant Dennis. Taking a cue from the nurse, Joel decided to pen a letter to his parents. He’d written them the other week about being wounded, though he hadn’t detailed all his injuries. It wouldn’t hurt, though, to reassure his mother that he was healing and share his progress of the last ten days.
“Can I have some stationary?” he called out, loud enough for the nurse to hear but not so booming he woke the other two soldiers who were sleeping.
She brought him paper and a pen. Joel wrote a few lines about starting to walk again and attending church. Then he paused. What else to say? Should he tell them about Evelyn? No. Better to let things play out first, figure out how he planned to help her, before he made any mention of her to his parents.
He glanced out the window at the few patients seated near the building. Was Evelyn busy in the surgery ward? Joel hadn’t seen her this morning or yesterday either. He didn’t like the thought of not talking to her for the second day in a row.
Because my time here is limited, he rationalized. We need to get to know each other, so I can decide what to do. His desire to see Evelyn was nothing more, nothing less.
He brandished his pen once more and reread the words he’d written. Footsteps echoed through the silent ward. Joel glanced up to see who had come inside the room and found Evelyn walking toward his bed. She looked every bit as lovely as she had the other day, that unruly curl falling onto her brow and her red lips lifted in a soft smile. Happiness flooded him at seeing her and he couldn’t stop the feeling from leaking onto his face in the form of a grin.
“Afternoon, Corporal.” She threw a look over her shoulder at the other nurse before she stepped closer to his bed. The girl appeared to be engrossed in whatever she was writing. “I can’t stay long. We have another surgery scheduled when lunch is over. But…”
Joel waited, his curiosity mounting over her reason for coming. She reached into her pocket and withdrew something he couldn’t see.
“Louis and I went walking in the woods yesterday.”
She’d seen Louis yesterday, but not him? Joel wrestled his jealousy into submission. The boy had no one else to really look after him. Of course Evelyn would be most concerned about Louis.
“We found something that I thought you might like.” She opened her fingers to reveal a bluish-green feather resting on her palm. “Louis told me the name of the bird he thought it belonged to, but I can’t remember the French name.”
Joel studied the beautifully colored feather. Evelyn hadn’t been required to bring it to him; it wasn’t her duty, like shaving his face or rebandaging his wounds or pushing his wheelchair. She’d remembered his interest in birds from the other day and came here specifically to see him.
Her smile drooped at his silence. “I know it’s small…”
“No, no. It’s perfect.” He picked up the feather, allowing his fingers to linger against her palm as he did so. Her skin felt as soft to the touch as the feather’s downy plume. “It’s a pretty color. Thank you.”
Evelyn’s face brightened. “I thought you could put it in your notebook.” She lifted the book off the bedside table, where he’d placed it earlier, and set it on the bed.
Joel flipped through the pages until he located a good spot. He placed the feather inside and smiled at Evelyn. “As a kid, I’d put the feathers I found in jars, much to my mother’s dismay when canning time rolled around.”
Evelyn laughed. It was the first full laugh he’d heard from her, and he loved the sound. “That’s a f
unny thing to put into jars.”
He feigned a scowl. “What? Didn’t you ever collect anything?”
“Flowers.” Her brown eyes grew wistful. “I used to press flowers in this thick book of my grandmother’s. I’d pick them from our garden or sometimes patients of my father would let me take a few from their flowerbeds.”
“Where’s that book now?”
“Probably in my room back at home. I haven’t thought about it in a very long time.” She crossed her arms loosely over her apron. “I used to love looking through that book and seeing all those flowers preserved. It was like I could make something beautiful last forever.” She lowered her gaze to her shoes. “Unlike my mother or my father.”
Joel wished he could rise and enfold her in his arms, offer her comfort. Would he ever be able to penetrate the loneliness and heartache she wore so persistently?
“How did it happen?”
The abrupt question confused him. “What?”
“Ralph. How did he die?” She trained her eyes on his face. “I’d like to know.”
Guilt filled Joel’s throat, nearly choking him. He’d expected the question, but that didn’t make it any easier to answer. Especially after her kindness in giving him the feather.
If only he could tell her everything, share every horrid detail from that day…But surely she would blame him, as he did himself, for Ralph’s death. If Evelyn grew to despise him, he’d never have the chance to help her or repay his best friend for costing him his life.
He had one other reason for not telling her the entire truth. If he shared the awful turn of events with someone else, especially Evelyn, Joel would have to face the grief he’d stuffed deep down inside himself. The grief of losing his best friend just months after his little brother had been killed.
Joel swallowed the regret and sorrow, and instead kept his attention riveted on the book in his lap. He would share enough to fulfill her need to know, but not so much as to condemn himself.
“We were ambushed by the Germans. Half our squad was hit by a shell.” He kept his voice devoid of emotion as he spoke, afraid of betraying the true depth of it. “Ralph made it to the field hospital, but he didn’t live long after that. It was there I heard him say your name.”
Evelyn’s face had grown pale, and there was a shimmer of tears in her eyes. “Thank you…for telling me.”
“I’m sorry,” Joel offered lamely, even if she wouldn’t understand he meant so much more than an apology for Ralph’s passing.
He was sorry for not insisting his best friend lead the other group. Sorry for bringing Evelyn the news that the father of her unborn child had been killed. Sorry it wasn’t Ralph she could be marrying soon.
“It’s all right.” Evelyn let her arms drop to her sides. “It wasn’t your fault.”
Could there be more ironic words? They lanced through him with all the force of a bayonet. If she only knew…The truth, raw and bitter, raced toward his mouth.
No. Joel clenched his jaw. He wouldn’t open himself up to that kind of helplessness, whatever happened between him and Evelyn.
“I need to go.” She fell back a step from his bed.
“Thanks for the feather,” Joel said, relaxing his face.
She offered him a brief smile and spun on her heel. He watched her disappear out the door of the ward, then opened up his book to where he’d placed the feather. Joel ran his finger over the delicate softness. Such a tiny object, but its presence—and Evelyn’s offering of it—had the power to undo his carefully laid plans.
* * *
Evelyn locked up the supply cupboard in the surgery ward and pocketed the keys. She’d assisted the doctor with two more successful surgeries, but they were out of bandages now. Dr. Dupont had asked her to procure more from another ward, if possible. Evelyn knew all too well that the other wards were running dangerously low on supplies, too. If she took bandages from them, what would they use?
She brushed a lock of hair from her forehead, switched off the lights in the surgical room, and locked the door. Dr. Dupont had already left to check on some of the patients before supper. She could think of one patient she wouldn’t mind seeing. If only to talk about the feather she’d given him.
Who had gone walking with Joel the past two days? Had he thought about her? She hoped so, while at the same time, telling herself it didn’t matter. They were only supposed to be getting to know each other.
Then there was her worry over Louis. Had the boy come looking for her yesterday to read more of his grandmother’s book? Had he had enough to eat last night? Perhaps she could find some time to see both him and Joel after supper. But first, she had to think of a way to produce bandages out of thin air.
As she made her way upstairs, Evelyn tried to remember which parts of the hospital she hadn’t seen yet, places where she might find bandages. The upper floor, where Sister Marcelle had her office, contained several other rooms, unused as far as Evelyn knew. Maybe there were old supplies stashed in one of them. First, she’d need permission to go searching, though.
She traversed the stairs to Sister Marcelle’s office and found the woman exiting the small room. “Nurse Gray.” The head sister smiled. “How are you getting along in surgery and in the recovery ward?”
“Very well, thank you.” Evelyn wished she could express the real depth of her gratitude. Five days of regular sleep and meals had greatly decreased her nausea.
Sister Marcelle motioned toward the stairs. “Will you walk with me to the dining room? You can explain on the way what I may help you with.”
“Actually, I’d like permission to search the rooms on this floor for extra bandages.”
“Are you running low in the surgery wards?”
Evelyn nodded. “We don’t have any left—not after today’s surgeries.”
The sister clasped her hands together and lowered her chin, causing her white headdress to dip with the movement. Several moments of silence passed before Evelyn realized Sister Marcelle was praying. Unsure what to do, Evelyn stood still, her gaze shifting from the stairwell, to the floor, and back to the stairwell. At last, Sister Marcelle lifted her head.
“I will continue to petition the Lord for supplies, which I feel certain will come in due course.” Her expression radiated confidence. “They are so greatly needed. However, I believe we are to learn something during this time of deprivation, Nurse Gray.”
Evelyn held her tongue, choosing not to give voice to her skepticism. It didn’t seem fair for a lesson to come at the expense of wounded men who were likely to suffer if the needed supplies failed to arrive soon. Was Sister Marcelle saying there might be a lesson to learn in the midst of such suffering? A stray thought crept forward in Evelyn’s mind. Did God have something He wanted her to learn through the suffering Ralph’s death had brought upon herself and her unborn child?
Before she could analyze the question further, Sister Marcelle spoke again. “You are welcome to search these rooms.” She motioned down the hallway. “I do not remember placing any supplies in them, but one never knows. Will you be coming down to supper first?”
“No.” Evelyn shook her head. “I promised Dr. Dupont I’d see if I could find something beforehand.”
“He praises your work. We are most fortunate to have you here, Nurse Gray.” Her blue-gray eyes peered kindly at Evelyn. “I hope you will be with us for a long while.”
She was beginning to wish the same—the hospital staff, and Louis, were becoming a sort of ragtag family to her, unlike any others she’d worked with previously. But no matter what she wanted, she would not be allowed to stay. Even if Joel consented to marry her, and she very much hoped he would, she couldn’t remain in France as a married nurse.
“Do not forget your supper,” the sister said as she headed down the stairs.
“I’ll be along soon.”
Evelyn opened the first door down the hall and walked inside. The room was slightly larger than Sister Marcelle’s office. A number of kerosene lamps sto
od in neat rows along one wall, a memorial to the days before electricity had come to St. Vincent’s. The only other furnishings in the room were a stack of crates on the opposite wall. Evelyn peered into the top one—it was full of books. She ran her thumb along the dusty covers. With her rudimentary knowledge of French, she could read only a few of the titles. Perhaps there was something to interest Louis, though.
She glanced in the crate on top of the second stack. A slim volume with an English title caught her attention. It was a reading primer, like the ones she’d used in school. Evelyn extracted it from the other books and wiped off the dust with her apron. If she could teach Louis to read English, he could enjoy his grandmother’s book when Evelyn wasn’t around.
Finding nothing else of interest, she took the book with her and moved on to the next room. This one was even more sparsely furnished than the first. A chair, missing several rungs from the back, sat opposite an iron bed frame with no mattress. If the hospital received another large influx of wounded soldiers, they might have to convert these rooms into wards as well.
At least until Joel and the others in the recovery ward leave for the convalescent home.
The thought brought an equal measure of relief and fear throbbing in her heart. Once Joel left, their fate would be decided, for better or worse. Either way, Evelyn had to admit she would miss him. And not just because of his connection with Ralph. Joel Campbell was kind and funny and handsome. If circumstances had been different, she could imagine being courted by him for real and marrying him for love, instead of convenience.
But circumstances aren’t different, she reminded herself firmly.
She made quick inspection of the final two rooms on the left side of the hallway. Both stood empty. Evelyn shut the last door and moved across the hall to the opposite four rooms.
The emptiness in the air reminded her of the spacious farmhouse at home. While she had plenty of happy childhood memories, there were other times as a girl when the emptiness of the large house had pressed in on her and she’d wished for more company than her grandparents and father. If she and Joel returned, as husband and wife, there would still be only one child in the house. And like Evelyn, her child would grow up and go off into the world one day, leaving them behind.
