True North

by Melissa Lynne Blue

  He sat down beside her, his long leg brushing against hers. “They aren’t you,” he said softly. Everett reached over and lifted her hand. He smoothed a thumb over her knuckles and turned her palm over. With his other hand he dropped a smooth flat rock into her palm. “You can school me any time, Gracie.” He met her gaze, a twinkle lighting his eyes. “Would you care to take this lesson down to the pond?”

  Her pulse quickened and she licked her lips. He was trying too, making a concerted effort to be less confrontational with his hospital cohorts, and making no secret of his interest in her. She curled her fingers around the smooth flat stone. “Are you certain you want to go back? I beat you soundly last night.”

  “Aye, lass, your eight skips were very impressive, but I am yet to see ten.” He stood and held a hand down to her.

  She flushed and took the proffered hand. Confused emotions battled within her. She’d been widowed for three years, and in that time she’d buried herself in her work. She’d intended to honor Albert’s memory, but in truth she’d wished to stay busy and forget her heartache. She had no desire to pursue romance in the midst of the war, but... the evening trips to the pond with Everett had become a welcome distraction, and a genuine friendship had grown between them. Once Everett stepped away from the oppressive atmosphere of the hospital his remarkable wit came out, and Grace was finding that he could be quite charming when he wanted to be. Every evening they slipped away to the pond, and over the last few weeks they’d spent hours talking… learning about one another… and it terrified Grace just how vulnerable she was to him.

  He tugged her to her feet and didn’t release her hand as he led the way out of the room. When they reached the deserted hallway he twined his fingers with hers, binding them together. Side by side they ambled through the empty corridor toward the back door by the path to the pond.

  Heat flamed in Grace’s neck and cheeks, and part of her worried that they would be caught together, but… she didn’t pull away. It had been so long since she’d had this type of closeness or intimacy with a man. She missed the companionship, the warmth and happiness that came with it. Until Everett’s pursuit, she hadn’t realized just how lonely she was or considered that she might be ready to open her heart again.

  She inhaled deeply as they stepped out of the hospital and into the twilight. The last slivers of daylight cast amethyst hues across the sky and the first stars twinkled above them. The excruciating heat had ebbed, leaving the air perfect for an evening stroll. Companionably they passed beneath the canopy of trees and down to the grassy lawn surrounding the pond. “It’s a lovely night,” Grace murmured.

  “Aye, lass,” he replied softly. “Almost as lovely as you.”

  She pulled her hand from his and turned away, embarrassed by the flattery. “Everett, stop. I look frightful and you know it.”

  He stepped in front of her, his broad chest eclipsing her vision, and tipped her chin with his work hardened fingers. Her eyes melded with his and her heart skipped at the intensity shining within the silvery hue. “You are beautiful,” he murmured, his deep voice whispering through her like a caress. “Beautiful, and kind, and so very intelligent.” He stood so near that the heat of his body seeped into hers. “You are good to everyone around you without exception. I saw that about you as soon as I transferred here. You give me hope for life after the war, Grace.” He took her face in both his hands, threading his fingers through her hair. “I’m trying,” he whispered. “I’m trying to be a better man because of you. For you.”

  Panic and desire warred within her. No one had ever given her such an overture, not even her late husband. Her heart hammered wildly. She should be spooked and running back to the safety of the hospital, but instead she was melting, liquefying beneath the intensity of his gaze. She studied the lines of his handsome face, from his captivating eyes to the strong angle of his jaw dusted with a dark shadow of whiskers. Her gaze flipped to his lips, lips so close she could kiss him if she stood on tip-toe. Blood rushed in her ears, and her fingers trembled at her sides.

  “I would like very much to kiss you,” he murmured.

  She wanted very much to kiss him too, and her lips tingled in anticipation. When he didn’t move to make good on his statement, she dropped the smooth rock still clutched in her left hand and lifted both palms to the well-muscled camber of his chest. She shivered as his toned muscles tensed beneath her touch. He was deliciously tall, the top of her head didn’t even graze the bottom of his chin, and, before she could second guess herself, she raised up on tip-toe to gently brush her lips against his.

  For a moment they stood frozen, neither moving. “Grace,” Everett finally murmured. “You—you kissed me first.”

  “You said you like forward women,” she replied breathlessly, still standing on tiptoe, her mouth a mere whisper from his. “And, you hadn’t got around to it yet.”

  Everett needed no further invitation. His strong arms engulfed her, lifting her off the ground as he pulled her against him. With a low growl, he took her lips in a firm, hungry kiss. She curled her arms around his neck, and parted her lips. Without hesitation his tongue dipped into her mouth, sliding across hers with delicious friction. Shivers of delight raced through her as Everett’s lips tangled enchantingly with hers. His whiskers bristled against her flesh, and his masculine scent enveloped her senses. He settled her feet back to the ground, keeping his brawny arms secured around her. His lips dragged a delectable trail of fire down the line of her jaw to the curve of her neck.

  Grace gasped, sliding her hands up his neck and curling her fingers in his thick dark hair. This was all happening so fast, and yet, it felt inexplicably right. Here, in the moonlight, it was as though the rest of the world had faded away. Everett was a big man. Tall and broad. Clasped in his arms she felt safe and sheltered in a manner she hadn’t experienced in a very long time.

  “Grace,” he murmured against her throat. He pressed another light kiss to the pulse point on her throat. “You’re trembling,” he whispered against her flesh. “Are you all right?”

  “Yes,” she gasped, so breathless she could scarcely speak.

  He drew back, worry evident in his beautiful eyes. “Are you certain?”

  She flashed him a wobbly smile. “I’m perfectly well,” she assured, finding her voice. “It’s just that you’re the first man I’ve been close to since—since my husband.”

  He studied her face in the waning light as though trying to discern her innermost secrets. After a long moment he pressed his forehead to hers. “I’ve overstepped. I’m sorry, Grace.”

  He started to pull back, but she tightened her hold on his shoulders, warmed by his caring restraint. “No, Everett. You haven’t. I kissed you first, remember?”

  A small smile tugged at his lips.

  “Help!” The desperate cry pierced the night air. “Help please! We need a doctor!”

  The blissful calm surrounding them shattered.

  “Help!”

  Reluctantly, Grace let her hands fall from Everett’s brawny shoulders and she stepped from the enticing circle of his arms. “Duty calls.” She sighed, disappointed. Their work was never done.

  “So it would seem,” he remarked dryly. Grace took a hesitant step in that direction, but was stopped when Everett grasped her hand. “There are other doctors and nurses. We could—”

  “I have injured men here! Help!”

  Guilt roiled in Grace as she looked back to Everett and dropped his hand. “We have to go.”

  ~*~

  Everett followed Grace out of their little alcove and up the rise toward the road by the hospital. He tried to suppress the supreme frustration that their passionate interlude had been cut short, and despite the heated kisses they’d shared he wasn’t certain where he stood with Grace. She’d kissed him first, but then she’d brought up her dead husband. Was she interested in pursuing a serious courtship? Or merely a bit of fun like other young widows he’d met?

  “Help!”

&
nbsp; The frantic bellowing sliced through his thoughts and the clank and rattle of a livery wagon met his ears as he and Grace approached the road. Soon a large wagon pulled by two large horses came into view. The driver sawed on the reins, halting the conveyance in front of the hospital doors.

  “What’s going on here?” Everett called, breaking into a jog.

  A man in shabby farmer’s clothes and a floppy brimmed hat jumped down from the wagon. “These boys need help! I found a pair of them in my field half dead. Not sure what happened to them or how the hell they got there, but I loaded them up and brought them here.”

  “You did the right thing,” Grace said, rushing to the back of the wagon. She wasted no time hoisting herself into the back of the conveyance. She turned quickly back to Everett, expression grave. “We need to get them inside, quickly.”

  Fortunately, the hospital doors opened and orderlies poured out to see what the commotion was about.

  “Go fetch some litters, lads!” Everett called. “We’ve got two injured men to bring inside.”

  “Right away, Dr. Connors.”

  With the stretchers on the way, Everett climbed into the wagon beside Grace. He couldn’t get a good look at he men’s wounds in the darkness, but the moonlight lent enough light to discern the soldiers clothing. He looked to Grace in surprise. “These men are Confederate.”

  She looked up sharply. “Does that matter?” she snapped.

  “Uh, No,” he replied, a bit taken aback by her reaction. “Of course not. Merely an observation.”

  She didn’t respond and moved to the head of one of the men. She gave his shoulder a gentle shake. “Are you awake? Can you speak to me?”

  The man’s head rolled to the side and he moaned.

  “You’re at a hospital,” she continued. “We’re here to help you.”

  Orderlies rushed from the door carrying the stretchers.

  Everett raised an arm. “Help me lift them out of the wagon, lads.” He turned back toward Grace who’d shifted her attention to the second man.

  She looked up to him intensely. “This man is barely breathing. Take him first,” she said tersely.

  He nodded and moved quickly to take her place at the man’s head. An orderly stepped up to the end of the wagon. “Grab his legs,” Everett ordered. He stooped down and grasped the man’s shoulders. He and the orderly lifted the soldier and transferred him out of the wagon to a waiting stretcher laid out on the ground. They then repeated the process for the other man. “Take them inside,” Everett instructed. He jumped from the back of the wagon and then turned to lift Grace down.

  His large hands circled her thin waist, and their eyes locked for a split second as her feet hit the ground before she spun and hurried into the hospital with the orderlies.

  Everett hesitated, watching her rush away. She was acting very strangely. He’d worked with her for months in the midst of carnage and mayhem. Never had he seen her as unnerved as she was tonight with the sudden appearance of these Confederate soldiers. With a shake of his head, he followed the train of litters and orderlies into the building. He turned to address the driver, “Sir, you’ll need to come inside to answer some questions.”

  “Of course. I’ll just tie up my horses.”

  Everett nodded in acknowledgement and entered the building just as Dr. Schaffer and Colonel Dayhuff rushed into the room. Dayhuff was followed by two other the nurses, and Sister Amelia.

  “We need to check these men over for wounds,” Grace said tersely.

  “Where did they come from?” Colonel Dayhuff asked.

  Everett motioned to the wagon driver. “This man found them in his field and brought them to us.”

  Dayhuff nodded. “Take them to the Confederate ward and post another guard. We’ll examine them there.”

  Grace hovered beside the first man, wringing her hands in her apron.

  “Nurse Sinclair,” Everett said officiously, “a moment please.”

  Grace visibly startled. She glanced between Everett and the solider on the stretcher, but held back when the others rushed out of the room.

  Everett approached her and lightly placed a hand to the small of her back. “Are you all right?” he whispered.

  “Perfectly fine,” she snapped, avoiding eye contact and moving to leave the corridor.

  Everett frowned, her tone was anything but fine. He grasped her elbow, halting her flight. “You know that man,” he stated.

  Her eyes widened and fear lurked within. She gulped.

  He refused to release her arm. “Grace?”

  “Yes,” she replied in a barely audible whisper. “He’s Joshua Burette, my sister’s husband.”

  “Your sister is married to a rebel soldier?”

  Grace stared up at him, turmoil roiling in her eyes. “Yes, and so was I.”

  Everett recoiled like a lightning strike. “Bloody hell, lass! You said your husband was an army doctor.”

  She glanced nervously around the now empty entrance hall. “He was,” she whispered furtively. “A Confederate Army doctor.”

  “What?” He blinked. Certain he’d misheard her declaration. “A Confederate officer?”

  “Yes.”

  Anger and betrayal settled in his gut. “Who the hell are you? Why are you even here?”

  Desperation lined her face. “You know why I’m here. I want to help people.”

  A muscle tensed in Everett’s jaw as he struggled for calm. “Were you ever going to tell me?” he demanded.

  She opened her mouth, but no words came forth.

  Anger burned inside him. “What else have you lied about?”

  “Everett—”

  “Never mind,” he abruptly cut her off. “I’ve no time for your excuses.” He lifted a finger and stabbed it toward her. “Stay away from the Confederate ward, and tell no one that man is kin to you.” He turned brusquely on a heel.

  “Everett,” her voice cracked on a sob, and she desperately grabbed his arm. “Everett, please try to understand!”

  “Don’t touch me,” he ordered coolly, yanking his arm from her grasp. He didn’t look back at her as he strode from the hall, and this time… she didn’t follow.

  Four

  Grace struggled to contain the anguish pouring out of her as she watched Everett lumber away. She pressed her apron to her eyes, forcing back the heady rush of tears. She sucked in a deep breath and held it.

  Life wasn’t fair.

  This blasted war had already stripped her of so much, and just when she’d begun to glimpse a flicker of hope this cruel world had snuffed it out. The hatred and disapproval in Everett’s eyes wrenched her heart until it hurt. It seemed their budding romance was over as soon as it had begun. She should have known better than to trust him with the truth. She’d spent years keeping it safely locked away.

  “Trouble in paradise?”

  Grace startled and whirled around. “Sarah!” She clasped a hand to her chest. “How long have you been standing there?”

  “Long enough.” Sarah stared at her with an expression that sent chills down her spine. After a moment she flicked her hand toward the oversize doors. “I heard a commotion from my room upstairs.”

  “Oh, um, yes. Two wounded men were brought in by a local farmer.”

  “Will you need my help?”

  Grace folded shaking hands in front of her. “I don’t think so, Sarah. Thank you for asking, but go on back to bed. I’ll see you in the morning.”

  Grace turned to stride out of the entrance hall, but dread settled in her stomach. Sarah may not be letting on, but she had almost definitely witnessed the exchange between Grace and Everett.

  How much had she heard? And what would she do with the information?

  Grace tried to stuff down her fears, and Everett’s harsh reaction to her revelations. She sought to cloak herself in the placid façade she’d perfected over the last three years. She sucked in another breath, failing miserably to achieve any measure of calm.

  “Pull your
self together, Grace,” she muttered to herself. “Joshua needs you.”

  Focusing on her brother-in-law, she squared her shoulders and marched to the Confederate ward prepared to take any action necessary to aide him and his compatriot. No matter how much it riled Everett.

  “This man’s dead,” Schaffer’s voice echoed along the hall. “There’s a large wound in his abdomen.”

  Grace’s heart leapt into her throat. No! She slowed her steps, struggling to quell her distress as she came around the corner. “Are you certain he’s dead?” she demanded. “Both men were breathing when I checked them in the wagon.”

  Schaffer lifted a cool, irritated gaze to her. “He’s dead,” he replied. “I’m certain of it.” He straightened, giving Grace a glimpse of the expired soldier.

  Relief suffused her so rapidly she almost fell over. It wasn’t Joshua. She shifted her attention to Everett. “What about the other man?”

  “I can’t find any injuries,” Everett replied without looking at her. “He’s unconscious, but as far as I can tell he’s severely dehydrated and likely exhausted.” He turned to one of the orderlies. “Stay with him. Cool him with moist rags and try to get a few spoons of water down him every ten minutes. If he regains consciousness you are to inform me immediately.”

  “Yes, Sir. I’ll gather supplies and begin straight-away.”

  Grace took a step toward Joshua, but Everett cast her a warning glare. She stopped in her tracks.

  Everett motioned to two other orderlies standing by the wall. “You two see that the remains of this other soldier are taken care of.” He turned to Dr. Schaffer. “Would you like to join Colonel Dayhuff in speaking with the farmer? Or shall I?”

  Schaffer straightened. “I’ll go,” he replied with an air of supreme self-importance. “You seem to have things under control here.”

  Schaffer quit the room and once more Grace hurried toward Joshua. Everett swiftly intercepted her before she reached him. He firmly grasped her upper arm and spun her in the opposite direction. She tugged against him, but he held fast, his strong fingers biting into her arm. “A word in private, Nurse Sinclair.” He quickly steered her out of the ward and away from any lingering eyes.