A Basket Brigade Christmas (41 page)

Johnny seemed to care nothing for the praise of others but ran into his grandpa’s arms.

“Did you like it? Did you, Grandpa?”

Mr. Folson kissed the top of his head. “It was a gift. You are a gift.”

Zona’s heart was full to overflowing. As the women commenced the delivery of the baskets, her quartet began singing the carols.

The evening was complete when Johnny joined them, his face radiant with joy.

As was Zona’s heart.

Cardiff was just about to leave for the day and was making the rounds of his patients. Most were doing well.

But when he came to Corporal Statler’s bedside, he was appalled to see that his face was gray. He felt his forehead and listened to his heart. The man was cold and the heartbeat weak. His breathing was shallow.

I’m losing him.

He checked the slit in the man’s arm where the blood had been taken. His arm was limp. Lifeless. He touched his hand.
He looks as if all the life has drained out of him.

All blood.

For a moment, he questioned the venesection he’d performed. The practice usually worked, but—

“Seems like you need more practice.”

The possibility that Mrs. Breston could be right—at least in this case—disrupted his equilibrium and shook his confidence. He made fists, trying to force the doubt away.

“I’m concerned,” Mrs. Breston said as she approached the bed.

Although it was hard to admit, Cardiff agreed. “So am I.”

She smoothed the sheets and ran a hand through Statler’s hair. “Come on, son. Come back to us. Your wife and son need you at home.”

“He’s married? With a boy?”

Mrs. Breston nodded. “His wife’s name is Abby, and his son, Caleb, is three.”

Cardiff turned to leave then thought better of it. “I think I’ll stay with him, to see him through the night.”

Mrs. Breston nodded and pulled two chairs close. “Let us keep vigil together.”

They settled into chairs, angled toward each other on the right side of his bed. Then Mrs. Breston surprised Cardiff by saying, “I apologize for being so brusque. My late husband used to chide me for my lack of tact.”

“I could use a bit of that myself.”

She adjusted the cuffs of her black dress. “I also know that my ways may seem revolutionary and sit against the grain.”

“They do. And whether you wish to believe it or not, I do have experience with soldiers. I worked in an army hospital during our war with Mexico.”

“My issue lies in the observation that not much has changed for this war. There are still too many unsuccessful amputations. And still the disturbing, unsanitary conditions.”

“I assure you we always try our best to save a limb.”

She nodded. “I’m sure you do. It’s not you in particular, Dr. Kensington. It’s the medical field in general that I battle. Common sense is often absent. Beyond the tending of their wounds, what the boys need are clean bodies, unsoiled sheets, fresh air, and healthy food.”

Her thinking was far too simplistic. “They need more than that.”

“Indeed they do,” she said. “They need doctors to wash their hands and surgical instruments. They need time for the body to heal itself through rest and common care.”

“In the field, there was often no time to wash.”

“There must always be time to wash! We’ve both seen how even the simplest of cuts heals faster when it is kept clean. Doesn’t it make sense that larger wounds would react the same?”

“Yes, but—”

“No
buts,
Doctor. There is too much we don’t know about the body and how it works. Until that knowledge is obtained, we must use logic and common sense to do our work.”

He knew there was no arguing with her.

She plucked at the fabric of her apron. “My George would still be alive if he’d been taken to a hospital that possessed sanitary conditions.”

Cardiff remembered Mrs. Driscoll’s mention of Mrs. Breston’s loss. “I am so sorry.”

“As am I.” She took a fresh breath. “His death was the impetus to my fervor regarding the boys’ care. If someone had been there for my son George, I am convinced he would not have died.”

They lacked proof one way or the other, and battlefield conditions often negated any consideration for care beyond what was quick and nominal. But Cardiff knew this moment was not a time for proofs but a time for compassion. “Again, I am sorry for your loss.” He tried to find a happier subject. “You mentioned two other sons?”

She smiled. “Timothy and Carl. I am very blessed.” Thinking of her boys seemed to clear the sorrow from her face. “Do you have anyone back home, waiting for you?”

“No. There’s just me.”

“
Was
there anyone?”

He balked.

She reached across the space between them. “There was someone, wasn’t there?”

Cardiff looked around the ward. Most of the soldiers were sleeping. What would it hurt to tell this woman the truth? “Her name was Zona.”

“That’s a distinctive name.”

“She was a distinctive woman.”

“Was?”

“Probably still is. We were engaged but lost track of each other.”

“On purpose?”

He thought of his unanswered letters. “On her part. I wrote letters while I was off in the other war. She did not answer me.”

“Perhaps she didn’t get them.”

He’d never thought of that. “I assumed she did.”

She slapped his knee. “You let an assumption dictate your life?”

It sounded as lame as it was. “She went her way and I went mine.”

Mrs. Breston’s hands fluttered around her head. “I cannot believe what I’m hearing. You let a woman you love get away without going after her? Talking to her in person? Making sure it’s what you both wanted?”

He tried to think of his reasoning back then, but logic eluded him. Finally he came up with, “I went to St. Louis and apprenticed under a doctor I’d worked with during the war. I took over his practice.”

“And what of Zona?”

“I—I don’t know.” He tried to think of some excuse for his actions. “She was angry at me for going to war. She wanted to marry me and wanted me to work in her father’s printing business.”

“Sounds totally appalling.”

He caught her sarcasm. “I didn’t want to work there.”

“Then stay and say no.”

He shook his head. “It wasn’t easy saying no to Zona.”

She looked toward the ceiling, “Lord, what can we do with this man?”

Cardiff resented her words. “I don’t need you to implore the Almighty on my behalf.”

“Someone needs to do it. You need to, for He’s the only one who knows where your Zona is.
If
you want to find her.”

Her words smacked him like a slap. “I—I do want to find her.”

“Of course you do. You need to find Zona and give yourself some closure.”

“I assume she’s married, with a family.”

“There’s that nasty habit of assuming again. So what if she is? Say hello, see how she’s faring, wish her the best, and go back to St. Louis with the door to what could-have-been firmly shut.”

It would be nice to know for sure.

She lowered her voice. “But if she’s never married, just as you have never married … perhaps God has been keeping you for each other all these years, for such a time as this.”

The notion made his stomach dance.

“That is, if you still love her. Do you?” Her gaze was unwavering.

A soft laugh escaped. “You are indomitable, aren’t you?”

“I believe there is a bit of stubborn in you, too, Dr. Kensington. Use it to seek her out. Use it to not stop until you find her and put this past to rest, so you can begin a new future.”

His mind swam with the logistics of it. Yet they quickly calmed.

He knew where her family lived.

He knew where her father worked.

“She lived in Chicago. She lived here.”

“Oh. My. Goodness! You’re in the same city? You have no excuse. Go to her.”

She was right. “I will. I’ll go tomorrow.”

“Perfect.” She touched his arm. “It’s the right thing to do.”

“I know it is. Thank you for …?” He couldn’t think of the proper word for what she’d done for him.

“Prodding you into it? Prodding is my job. Now then. Let’s say a prayer for Corporal Statler and for you to have a successful quest in finding Zona.”

He couldn’t—and didn’t—refuse.

A few hours later, Cardiff was back at the boardinghouse. Corporal Statler’s breathing and heartbeat had stabilized. Had God heard their prayers?

He had no other explanation. And since they’d prayed about their patient and about finding Zona, Cardiff was compelled to take the next step.

As he reached the upstairs landing, he stopped at Mr. Johnson’s door and knocked.

The door opened. “Doctor. What can I do for you?”

“I need the use of a horse for a day. Can you get me one?”

“I’m sure that could be arranged.” He gave Cardiff a sideways glance. “Care to tell me why you need it? I could take you wherever you want to go in my hack.”

“Thank you, but I’d prefer to go on my own.”

“Go where?”

He thought a moment. “To visit my past.”

Mary Lou set a bowl of stew in front of Zona. She took her seat at the table and placed a napkin in her lap. Without looking up, she extended her hand to Zona and began grace.

“Heavenly Father, thank You for this food and for handling the confrontation at the depot today with such grace and mercy. Help Zona know what she needs to do next.”

Zona pulled her hand away. “That was subtle.”

“Wasn’t meant to be.”

“Everything worked out. Johnny sang, and his grandfather saw his talent.”

“You got what you wanted.”

“Johnny got what he deserved.”

“And you got to use his talent for your own purposes.”

She was turning everything around. “The soldiers loved it. So did everyone who heard.”

Mary Lou sighed dramatically. “So the end justifies the means?”

Zona pushed her bowl aside. “You’re siding with Mr. Folson?”

“You hurt him.”

“I helped him see his grandson’s talent.”

“Was that your place?”

Zona couldn’t believe what she was hearing. “It was for his own good.”

“And who are you to determine that?”

She pushed away from the table and stood. “He gave me no choice. I put the boy above all else.”

“Hmm.”

“You heard Johnny sing. It would be a sin to let a voice like that be silenced.”

“I agree.”

“You agree?”

“I am happy for the result but question the method. Slinking around, forcing the boy to slink around—”

“It was his idea!”

Mary Lou gave her the look she deserved.

“I know. I’m the adult. I should set a good example.”

With a nod, Mary Lou moved to another point. “Your willfulness and need to get your own way has hurt you before and cost you everything.”

Zona couldn’t believe she was bringing it up. “Cardiff.”

Mary Lou shrugged. “I thought this time you’d think of others first.”

“But today everything turned out all right. Doesn’t that count for something?”

“You have Pastor Davidson to thank for that. He diffused what could have been a very humiliating situation.”

Didn’t she see Zona’s point at all? “It
was
humiliating. Thanks to Mrs. Collins and Seth tattling to Mr. Folson. Did you see the smug look on their faces when they came storming onto the platform?”