A Widow's Salvation

by Becky Lower

  He glanced at her. “You mentioned three boys. Do you have any girls?”

  “No girls, just the boys. The eldest, Matthew, is seven. Mark is five, and Luke is only a baby, not even a year old. I became with child right before Michael was shipped out. He never even knew we were having a third baby. And hopefully, the war will be over before my boys get to the age where they’d be tempted to enlist.”

  Her eyes were no longer focused on Elijah but had become soft as she stared at nothing. She blinked quickly and then ran her hands over her face before she jumped up from her chair.

  “Goodness, enough talking about me and my husband. I’ve managed to corral you long enough, Colonel. You’re fed now, and a bit rested, so it’s time for both of us to get back to work.”

  As she closed the door behind herself, Elijah let out a breath. He’d actually been enjoying himself for once, despite the somber talk. He stood, rubbed his tired eyes, and prepared to reenter the operating room. Guilt overtook him as he returned to the hospital floor. He had no right to enjoy himself when he might be able to save someone’s life.

  CHAPTER FIVE

  Hours later, Elijah collapsed face first onto his cot without even stopping to remove his shoes. He had perhaps an hour before the next load of injured would arrive from the train transporting the wounded Union soldiers from the Harper’s Ferry battlefield. After eighteen straight hours in the operating room, he was more than ready to close his eyes for a few minutes. And if he had pushed himself to a point beyond exhaustion, he could possibly now sleep without the nightmares closing in. Sixty minutes should be enough to restore him.

  He came awake when the screaming penetrated his brain. Screams were not uncommon in an Army hospital, but these were different. Elijah bolted upright, only to realize the screams were his, and his body was drenched in sweat. Exhaustion alone wasn’t enough to keep his familiar nightmare at bay this time. He cleared away the vision of the pile of amputated arms and legs that came dancing in his direction whenever he slept, threatening to smother him.

  He ran a hand down his face. Bone-weary, and not able to sleep. Not a good combination. But he had a few more minutes before heading back to the operating room, so he decided to wash and put on a clean shirt. The shirt he had been wearing was rendered useless by the combination of blood and sweat. He stripped to the waist and filled the washbowl with water. Perhaps splashing cold water on his face would scare away the last of the dream, which still caused his hands to tremble.

  He lathered his face in preparation to shave and then searched for a mirror. He wandered the length of the room but still couldn’t find it. Damn. When was the last time he’d shaved, anyway? And where had he been at the time? Ah, well. He guessed he’d keep his stubble yet another day. He walked back to the washstand, preparing to rinse off the lather, and then stopped at the gentle knock on his office door before it opened.

  Pepper Brown hesitated in the doorway, her arms burdened with another basket of food. His tired gaze lit on her, and his body was no longer weary.

  “Good afternoon, Mrs. Brown.” His lips curved into a smile, and heat radiated through his chest, even as he realized he was shirtless in front of her. He crossed the room to where he’d left the soiled shirt and inserted his arm back into the sleeve.

  Pepper set the basket on the desk and moved beside him. “No, please don’t put this nasty thing on again, even for the sake of propriety. I’m sorry I interrupted your ministrations. I can leave.”

  He removed the offensive shirt again and stood in front of her, bare from the waist up. “Could you help me find a mirror first, so I may shave?”

  Elijah observed her quick movements as she glanced around the small room but could find no mirror, either.

  “Why don’t you let me shave you, Colonel? Come, sit at your desk, and I’ll do it.”

  “Are you certain?”

  “Of course. I used to shave my husband’s face all the time. I’m quite good with a straightedge razor.”

  He wrapped a towel around his neck and sat as directed. She brought the washbowl and razor over to the desk and stood at his side. Elijah closed his eyes contentedly, inhaled the menthol fragrance of the lather mingling with the mild floral scent accompanying Mrs. Brown, and allowed her to touch his face as she removed the whiskers. After the first few moments, her movements were sure, and she gently made her way from one cheek to the other, holding the skin taut with her fingers while she shaved him. He lifted his head so she could clean his neck and jawline, keeping his eyes closed the entire time.

  He must have fallen into a light snooze, since when he next opened his eyes, Mrs. Brown was cleaning his razor and emptying out the dirty water. He stared at her.

  “Thank you. That was the nicest treat I’ve had in years.”

  “Even if we did just now bend every rule of propriety there is?”

  “Even then. My reputation can take it if yours can.”

  She smiled and leaned one hip against the desk. “I don’t really give a fig about what people think. But you, sir, certainly had your wife shave you when she was alive?”

  He gazed into her clear blue eyes for a long moment. “My wife used to occasionally treat me to a shave, but she died three years ago. We were on our way to a Christmas party when our carriage overturned on the ice. She suffered a broken neck and died instantly. There was nothing I could do for her.”

  Pepper’s hand moved to her chest. “I’m sorry your loss was so devastating, Colonel.”

  “So you see, we both have our demons.”

  Pepper straightened. “That we do.” She bustled over to the washstand and, with quick, choppy movements, filled the washbowl with fresh water and brought it back to the desk. “I’ll let you finish up, and then you can eat what Cook sent over. I understand the next wagon full of soldiers is on its way from the train station, but you should have fifteen minutes or so.”

  “Thank you again, Mrs. Brown.”

  “I think, now since I’ve shaved you, it would be all right to call me by my given name. It’s Pepper.”

  Elijah’s lips curved into a smile. “Because you’re so spicy?”

  She gave him a hard look, but her eyes were shimmering in mirth. “Why, Colonel Williams, you surprise me. No, I was cursed with the name because my twin brother was given the family name of Halwyn, which is an Anglican term for salt. Since I was born at the same time, and had dark hair, my parents thought it only natural for me to be the pepper to his salt. I’ve had to deal with it ever since, because it’s not a proper name for a girl.”

  “Quite the contrary, Mrs. Brown, er, Pepper. I find the name charming, proper, and very fitting.”

  She graced him with another smile. “Enough of your flattery. Eat your dinner, Colonel. You’re going to need it. There are a lot of wounded about to show up on your doorstep.”

  “Yes, ma’am, Pepper.”

  Even Cook’s wonderful dinner couldn’t quite quell the pit in his stomach. His close encounter with Pepper Brown had unsettled him. She had been the first woman to touch him in any kind of intimate manner since Elisabeth died. And he had enjoyed it.

  • • •

  Pepper pressed her body up against the wall outside the colonel’s office, placed her hands on her oscillating stomach, and closed her eyes. Whatever had gotten into her? A quiet groan crossed her lips as she thought about her outrageous actions. She and the colonel had been getting to know each other in the most innocent of ways. She worried about him, admired him, respected him, since he put everyone else’s needs above his own. It had been a perfectly normal relationship that had been developing between the two of them, even though her mother made her aware the colonel took an extra measure of time to talk to the ladies when Pepper was among them. But her mother was a true romantic and thought there was love around every bend in the road.

  Pepper was not so deluded. She didn’t think the colonel was interested in her in any way other than he was with any of the other ladies who volunteered. She was me
rely another set of hands to help lighten the staff’s burden. And she was in no position in her personal life to entertain the thought of finding another man to be a father to her boys. Since she’d been volunteering at the hospital, she’d witnessed men without their shirts on as she tended to their wounds. And she’d even shaved a few faces, when there had been time. Yet, nothing had affected her as much as when she’d caught a glimpse of the colonel without a shirt on. It seemed as if all sense had trotted out the window along with her breath. His trim body, toned muscles, and the sprinkling of hair running down the middle of his chest was too much for her. Yes, that was it. She’d been overwhelmed by his masculinity. It had been over a year since Michael had gone off to war and gotten killed. Over a year since she’d been behind closed doors with a man in such a state of undress. Over a year since she’d touched a man’s face so intimately.

  During her year of mourning, she’d had limited access to society, yet somehow, a few men had found an opportunity to come near and attempt to entice her. She had been affronted by their inappropriateness, even though she realized a lot of men thought widowed women, ladies who were already schooled in what sex was all about, couldn’t possibly go for an entire year and beyond without a bed companion. Even if she’d not been put off by their manner, there had not been even one man among them who measured up to the standard that had been set by Michael. And not one man who came close in comparison to Elijah.

  Still, overwhelmed or not, she couldn’t justify her brazen actions, even if they were extremely pleasant for both parties. Her cheeks burned at the memory, and she placed her hands to them.

  “Dear Lord, what have I done?” she whispered into her hands. Shaving his face was one of the most intimate acts a woman could do for a man. How she’d gotten through the procedure without nicking him, she didn’t know, since her hands were shaking when she started. Her insides were still quivering, even though she had presented a no-nonsense demeanor when she had been in front of him.

  He didn’t need to know how much such a simple act had affected her. She’d been grateful he’d closed his eyes as she shaved him. If he’d observed her at such a close range, she might have cut open his jugular. Even in her agitated state, the warmth of his skin beneath her fingers registered, as did the texture of his brown hair, which was streaked with gray, as she moved it aside. And the way he placed so much trust in her that he dozed off during the shave. Her heartbeat sped up when she remembered how he relaxed under her touch, and she placed a hand near her heart. If he’d relaxed for even a few minutes, she was grateful.

  It was the bare chest that had rattled her, got her to thinking thoughts she should not be entertaining. He was an officer of the Army, a highly skilled surgeon. Even though the hospital was full of men, those two traits placed him above all the others.

  But speaking of men stuffed into the hospital, it was time for her to get to work. The commotion at the door was enough to tell her a new wagon full of bleeding and broken men was arriving, some of which were young boys not yet out of their teenage years who were scared out of their wits. Way too young to have been witness to the atrocities of battle. Soon, she’d be overwhelmed with duties, getting the men situated, talking to each, and trying to ease their pain with her gentle touch. She’d fetch water to them, and bedpans. If there was time, she’d write letters to their families, wives, or sweethearts. She’d help prepare the next designated one for the operating room. And, her least favorite chore, she’d close their unseeing eyes as they died.

  She tucked away the memory of the intimate yet innocent act of shaving the colonel for now. She would think more about her forward actions tonight, when she got home and after her children were tucked into their beds. There was no time to dwell on such matters at present. There was too much that needed done.

  Pepper ran her hands down her serviceable navy dress and patted her hair to make certain it was still in place. She was the last person some of these men would see, and in order to ease their passage to the great beyond, she’d better be presentable. She took a deep breath, shoved herself away from the wall, and began to greet each man as he was carried into the great hallway in the center of the hospital. Even with the hours of drudgery facing her, she couldn’t keep the smile from her face. The colonel had thought she was spicy.

  • • •

  A few afternoons later, Pepper joined her mother in the family’s drawing room. Their pre-war diversion of perfecting their stitches by practicing embroidery had been supplanted by the hospital’s need for bandages. Her mother had a vast supply of gauze and muslin, which needed to be cut and rolled into tight bundles. Pepper settled in and wanted nothing more than a quiet afternoon, doing her part in the war effort. But her mother had other ideas, it seemed.

  “So, dear, tell me about your activity at the hospital.”

  She glanced at her mother, then shifted her eyes back to the hills of muslin. “You know what I do there, Mother, since you usually accompany me.”

  “Ah, but I’m aware you are making extra trips when I can’t join you. And that you are taking food from your own kitchen to one beleaguered doctor on a regular basis. How is the dear man, anyway?”

  Pepper gasped. How had her mother found out about her extra visits? She stared at her mother with her mouth open, her fingers trembling at her throat.

  Her mother leaned into her in a conspiratorial fashion. “The servants know everything, my dear.”

  Pepper sat up straight and glared at her mother. “I should know better than to try to put something over on you. You have an uncanny knack of uncovering information. How much did you have to bribe Emma?”

  Her mother grinned. “That poor little overworked nanny of yours agreed to give up all in exchange for one afternoon a week off for the next month. She’s seeing some young man, and it’s becoming serious.”

  “She is? How do you know? When does she have the time?”

  Charlotte hummed a nonsensical tune as she picked up a length of muslin. “Emma’s young and strong. She’ll make the time, if the man is a good enough catch. And now since she has craftily found the time to cement her relationship, you may be in need of a new nanny soon.”

  Pepper shook her head. “She’s the best nanny I’ve had in years, and this is what you do? Sabotage me? Why didn’t you just ask me instead?”

  Charlotte glanced at her daughter. “Because I know you well enough to know you wouldn’t have given me a straight answer. Because you have some misguided notion about being the first war widow in New York City and having to set a higher standard for yourself. You feel you’d be doing a disservice to Michael if you admitted an attraction to another man. So tell me, exactly what are your feelings toward the handsome colonel?”

  Pepper grabbed another length of gauze and began to roll it. How dare her mother interrogate the servants! And how dare Emma tattle on her! She didn’t know which woman she was more furious with. She battled with her emotions and neglected to answer.

  Her mother ran a hand down Pepper’s sleeve. “It’s all right to have feelings toward the colonel, dear. It’s healthy, even. So tell me.”

  Pepper’s eyes filled with tears. She’d been so stoic in front of her boys and only cried for her loss behind closed doors. And a few times with her mother. As the tears escaped and rolled down her cheeks, she didn’t even try to hide them this time. She fell into her mother’s arms and let them come.

  “I miss Michael every day, Mother.”

  “I know his loss has been very hard on you, especially with the boys.”

  “Matthew told me the other day he was having trouble remembering Michael’s face. I’m having the same reaction. I can’t remember what he looked like, what he smelled like, anything.”

  Pepper grabbed her stomach and bent over, her cries becoming louder. Charlotte put an arm around Pepper’s shoulders.

  “But you have so many good memories together. As do I. The first time he entered our house, when Halwyn brought him home from the university, I fig
ured it out right away you two would marry. I thought I’d fallen for your father fast, but you beat me. You were in love with Michael before you finished your soup that evening.”

  Pepper laughed softly, straightened, and wiped her cheeks. “You’re right about that, Mother. I couldn’t take my eyes off him.”

  “And you had a good marriage, for nine wonderful years. But you’re a young woman yet, and Michael would be the first to tell you even though he’s provided well for you and the boys financially, you need to provide for them as well. And that means putting a new father figure into their lives.”

  Pepper squirmed out of her mother’s embrace. “Not yet, Mother. Maybe never. I want to help the other war widows, who are only now having to deal with what I’ve already lived through, and ease their pain a bit. Besides, the colonel is not a good choice for a husband or a father figure. He’s a tireless worker, with no time for outside indulgences. At least until the war is over, which is years away, I’m afraid. I’m only concerned about his welfare. He drives himself so hard.”

  “And you work yourself tirelessly as well, my dear. That’s why you’re such a good match for each other. He’s a widower, you’re a widow, what more do you need?”

  Pepper turned away from her mother, took a deep breath, then responded, “I need love, Mother. The kind of overwhelming love I had with Michael. You’re correct in thinking Michael would want me to move on. We talked about it briefly before he left for the war. But unless I can find the same kind of love I had with him, I won’t settle. There’s a distinct line between kindness for another and everlasting love. Right now, all I feel for the colonel is compassion.”

  Her mother leaned over and kissed Pepper’s cheek, and Pepper inhaled her mother’s soothing lilac scent. “There are all different kinds of love, though. The kind you had with Michael was the giddy love of a young couple. I doubt you’ll find that same kind of love again. What you’ll have this time will be a deeper caring for one another. It may not provide the same kind of anticipation and excitement you found with your first husband, but it can be a different and more meaningful love. Don’t sell compassion short.”