Aether Spirit (14 page)

“Are you all right?” a friendly voice asked.

Claire turned to see Patrick O’Connell.

“I think so. I just had the oddest interaction with Major Longchamp.”

“Oh?” He held the door for her. “Are you going in?”

“Yes, thank you.” Yes, she wanted to get out of the darkness of the evening. Who knew what lurked out there?

“I’m glad I ran into you,” O’Connell said. “I’m going to bring dinner to the hospital, and I could use some help carrying the trays.”

* * * * *

“Where the hell have you been?” Perkins asked Chad. He struggled to cauterize a wound as two nurses held the soldier down.

“I went to rest as you recommended.”

“I did no such thing. Why would I suggest you leave in the middle of the worst day we’ve had in months?”

Chad looked around for Nanette but didn’t see her. Dammit, what was the woman playing at? These were people’s lives.

“What do you need me to do?”

“Set some bones. I’ve got them lined up in the barrel room. I hope we’ve got more laudanum somewhere. Even with conserving it, we’re running low on that and other pain medicines.”

“But we just got a shipment.”

“You don’t have to tell me that. We can worry about it later.”

Chad thought about telling Gregory he should take something to calm down, but he was more irked at himself. He should have checked in before he left for his nap. Or had Perkins said something that had been misinterpreted? There was no time to find out now.

Bryce McPhee caught up to Chad before he walked on to the ward. “I heard that. Do you need me to do anything?”

“How is your arm?” Chad asked.

“It continues to heal.” He flexed his fingers, which were the size and color they ought to be.

“I might need an extra hand if you can spare it. And I hope you’ve got a strong stomach. Crushed and broken bones aren’t pretty.”

“One hand is all I’ve got, but it’s yours. I’m sure I’ve seen worse. Uncle Allen used to joke that nothing could disturb my appetite.”

Chad smiled at the memory of his almost father-in-law. “Then you’ll do fine.”

He opened the door and saw nurses moving around the beds offering comfort where they could.

“Thank goodness you’re here, Doctor,” one of them, a pretty blonde girl who looked not much older than Bryce, said. “We’ve done what we could, but some of the crushed bones are beyond our abilities. Or we need a man’s strength to wedge things back where they should be.”

Chad glanced at Bryce, who’d gone pale but not green. That was a good sign.

“Fine. You triage, we’ll set,” Chad said.

“Right this way.”

The rhythm of the work was punctuated by moans, screams, and curses. Some of the bones would need further work, and he wished they had a surgeon who could manage to put things back together without infection setting in. He feared at least a quarter of the patients would require amputations, but they’d have to wait for Perkins and his saw. Meanwhile, he’d patch them up as best he could.

By the time he and Bryce reached the end of the ward, both of them were exhausted and sweating from their efforts.

“We’ve done the best we could,” he told the young man. “How did your other arm hold up? Don’t think I didn’t see you using it when you shouldn’t have.”

Bryce shrugged and winced. “It’s been better.”

Chad looked under the sling and saw where blood oozed through the bandage. “I’ll have the nurses put a new poultice on that tonight.” He motioned the little blonde nurse over. “See to it that he gets taken care of.”

She looked at Bryce, and her cheeks pinked. “I’ll be happy to, Doctor. By the way, there’s dinner for you in the staff office. I’ll make sure he gets something to eat too.”

“Thank you.” He could only smile and shake his head as he walked to his office to make some quick notes on what he’d done to whom beyond what the nurses put in the official charts. Even in the worst circumstances, girls would find boys and boys would find girls.

It’s what keeps the human race going.

He opened the door and stepped back. There, asleep with her head on his desk, was Claire McPhee.

Chapter Fourteen

Fort Daniels, 25 February 1871

Chad paused and looked at Claire. She held her glasses loosely in one hand, and her dark copper lashes made little C’s on her lightly freckled cheeks. His desk lamp burned low, and he could see she had been reading something. Ah, the charts he had pulled out for her. He had to admire her persistence in doing what she came to do even amid the chaos of an attack and its aftermath.

He wondered if anything of hers besides her glasses and nightclothes had survived the shelling of the general’s house. Not that her possessions mattered—the important thing was that she was safe, even if not exactly sound due to her previous injuries and the treatment she’d endured for them. But how lost would she be once it all hit her? He and the others at least had some grounding in the past, good memories of love they could return to.

And that was what she wanted to bring the boys with battle hysteria to, their good memories. Was it because she’d lost so many of her own?

He wished he could run a finger along her cheek and erase the tear whose trail ended in an extra sparkling freckle by her ear. He’d imagined them working together so many times before the accident, he the doctor and she the tinkerer who would invent medical devices that would help his patients, miracle machines no one had dared to envision. They had talked about their dreams, especially once the war started and the path had opened up for him to have a career that would give him the chance to treat all patients, not just the ones who shared his dark skin, and possible patronage and recommendations in the future. At the very least, the number of Negroes fleeing north would give him a clientele.

Then the accident had happened, shattering her memory and his hopes that they would be partners in all things.

“Ahem,” he said and cleared his throat.

She bolted into a sitting position and fumbled to put her glasses on, which ended up being adorably askew due to the missing arm. He would have to speak to Major Longchamp about ordering replacement frames. He could transfer the lenses, one of the many things he’d had to learn to do as a field doctor and then in Paris.

“I’m sorry,” she said. “I was reading, and I must have fallen asleep. I only meant to rest my eyes.”

“You’re exhausted. Why are you working? You should be in bed.”

“Where?” She shrugged. “The General’s House is in ruins, and the women’s hospital is full now. I missed my chance to grab a spot. And I’m not going back to the women’s quarters.”

“Why not?”

“I’m not welcome there, and I fear to lose what little I have left.”

The hopelessness in her tone made him want to scoop her up and tell her she could stay with him as long as she liked. He tamped the emotion down.

“Well, you can’t sleep here.”

“Surely there’s somewhere…”

“There’s one place that has room. If you don’t mind.”

“I’ll go anywhere that’s welcoming.” She stood and closed the file, placing it back in the pile. He appreciated how she left it exactly where she found it. If he hadn’t seen her, he wouldn’t have known she’d been there.

Who was he kidding? He would always know when she’d been somewhere. He didn’t know how, he just did, like something metaphysical tethered them and would always bring them to the same place.

Now I’m getting loopy.

He rubbed his eyes. “It’s the Negroes’ quarters. They have room, and the matriarch offered space to those who might need it.”

“That’s fine with me. As long as they don’t mind, I don’t.”

“Come with me.”

He led her out of the hospital, where most of the patients were settled, or at least would be until he got back. They passed Bryce in an alcove getting a poultice applied to his arm by the little blonde nurse who’d taken such a liking to him. His eyes widened when he saw Claire, but he pressed his lips together before he called out to her. Chad tugged Claire along.

“That young man looked familiar,” she said and rubbed her right temple. Chad noticed someone had found some gloves for her. They were basic and not the fine kid she’d worn when she arrived.

“You’re exhausted. Your mind is probably telling you that you see all kinds of familiar people to comfort you.”

They walked into the evening, which unlike its predecessors, was dry with an early spring softness to it. Chad didn’t know how many had been killed in the attack on the base, but the scent of new green life seemed almost an insult, a reminder that time would march on without regard for the dead.

“You might want to take my elbow,” he said. “It’s dark out, and the ground is muddy, especially on the paths.”

She did so, and the slight pressure of her hand on his arm squeezed his heart. He paused to allow his eyes to adjust to the dark and reminded himself to breathe evenly, to not give her any indication of the emotions that tumbled inside him. Desire mixed with regret, mostly, with an added dash of the ever-present fear that she would disappear on him again, either physically or mentally into a coma like she had before.

“Are you all right?” she asked.

Dammit, she’d always been able to tell when something bothered him. “Yes, just treading carefully. I don’t want to trip and bring us both down.”

She gave his biceps a slight squeeze. “You’re stronger than you give yourself credit for.”

“I only wish that was true,” he muttered. “Come along, then.”

The slice of waxing moon provided some light, and they picked their way around puddles. Claire held on with one hand and rubbed her temple with the other. He wondered what night she was trying to remember. They’d had a spring engagement, but it was still snowing in Boston.

They’d been engaged on her birthday, which was March fourth. Oh, gods, he hadn’t considered that. Would being around him on that date trigger more damaging memories? And what if the date passed without any sign from her that it had once been special for more than marking her entrance into the world? Her mind would be safe, but he wasn’t sure his heart would be.

“What are you thinking?” she asked.

It was a question with echoes from the past, a game they used to play. They’d make up the craziest things they could think of to shock the other.

“Just that I have a lot of work to do.” He wasn’t going to risk an off-the-wall answer that might trigger the blocks in her mind.

“I won’t keep you too long, then.”

They reached the Negroes’ quarters. Somehow they had survived the shelling, which had destroyed the buildings around them. The mournful sound of singing floated out, and Chad stopped.

“Are they having a funeral?” Claire asked.

“No, just coming together during a tough time.” He wished he could join them, but he really needed to get back to the hospital. Plus, he’d never done so before in spite of being invited.

An unexpected cold blast of air made all his hair stand on end.

“Should we go in?” Claire asked.

The shiver passed, but the back of Chad’s neck still tingled with the sensation of someone or something observing them. “Yes.”

They slipped in the front door, and Lacey met them. She couldn’t see, but she could hear better than most.

“I heard y’all outside. It’s not a night to be about. Is this your young lady?”

Chad shook his head before he remembered she couldn’t see the gesture. “No, this is Doctor Claire McPhee. She’s a visiting doctor, but she was staying at the General’s House, which was one of the buildings shelled last night.”

“Yes, I heard about Clarice Soper. We’re praying for her.”

“Thank you. Every little bit helps, I’m sure.” Actually, he wasn’t, but he wasn’t going to contradict the woman. “Any word from the contraband camp?”

“No, the roads’re too muddy for much to get through. What brings you here? Surely not just for news.”

“No. Although Doctor McPhee managed to escape, she’s now without a place to stay. You said you had room.”

“Bless your heart,” Lacey told Claire. “Come on in, we have plenty of space.”

“Thank you,” Claire said. She relaxed her grip on Chad’s arm and allowed herself to be led beyond the neat but small receiving room and into the building. Chad watched her go. He knew she’d be in good hands, but he couldn’t shake the feeling he’d rather her be in his hands.

It’s just leftover feelings. You don’t know anything about her other than she doesn’t tolerate the company of other women well.

And that she was smart and kept her sense of humor and ability to get into impossible situations and…

He told his heart to shut up. He needed to find out what happened with her and the nurses, although he guessed it came down to one thing—Nanette feeling threatened in her queen bee position. Damn politics.

Meanwhile, he had to get back to his patients. If he hurried through the dark at a pace a little too fast to be safe, he told himself it was because he was eager to get back to his duties, not the persistent feeling of being watched and followed by something he couldn’t see.

* * * * *

“Now my name’s Lacey Roker,” the blind woman said. “And you’re Doctor McPhee.”

“You can call me Claire. I appreciate your generosity in putting me up.”

“Don’t you worry about it.”

Claire followed Lacey into the Negroes’ quarters. She marveled at how well Lacey navigated, but she recognized the woman must be very familiar with her surroundings. This building had been barracks at one point with a large gathering space just inside the entrance. People sat around tables or on stools talking in hushed tones. Some of them played cards or dice, but in general a feeling of exhaustion pervaded the place. Claire could see why. The men had been busy with rescue and recovery all day, and the women had gone about their duties as much as they could. She didn’t sense any hostility, just mild curiosity. She wondered if Lacey would introduce her to anyone, but they only walked through.

“I don’t mean to be rude,” Lacey said once they’d passed through and walked down a narrow corridor with doors on either side. “But we’re just too worried about friends and family in the contraband camp between here and town to be very social.”