Camellia (40 page)

The prospect of becoming involved with the hospital made Camellia feel much better. No matter what privations she might face, it would be worth it if she helped their soldiers heal. Aunt Tessie had taught her so much. She welcomed the chance to put her skills to work.

The hospital slouching at one end of Pearl Street had serviced the sick and infirm for about ten years. Sunlight peeked between a pair of dark clouds and highlighted the ill-tended lawn, giving the area a foreboding air. Some of the windows had been covered with boards, probably to replace windowpanes shattered by enemy shells.

As the carriage dropped them off, Camellia wrapped her hand around the handle of her bag of medicines and ointments and lifted her chin. No matter how grim the setting or how difficult her self-appointed tasks, she was determined to make use of the talent God had given her.

A nun greeted Jane at the door, her face enclosed in a white wimple. “Thank you so much for coming again today, Miss Watkins. I know how much your visits mean to our young men.”

“It’s the least we can do, Sister Alice. We may not be able to fight in the battles, but we can support those who do.”

Camellia waited behind them as the sister mentioned some of the men whom Jane must have visited in the past.

“Please excuse me.” Jane turned to her and pulled her forward. “This is my dearest friend, Camellia Anderson.”

“Welcome, Miss Anderson. It’s kind of you to volunteer.”

“I am eager to be of service, Sister.”

Before the nun could answer, a groan from the room behind her focused all of them on the reason for being at the hospital. Sister Alice nodded and turned to the open door. Jane pulled her skirt close to her legs and followed the nun into the first room.

The smell reminded Camellia of the horrendous days on their trip from Jacksonport. But the number of patients then had been much lower than the number of men whose cots filled every available inch of floor space. Little room remained between the cots to allow them to maneuver. Now Camellia understood why Jane had insisted they leave off their hoops. Their voluminous skirts would have seriously impeded their progress.

The first bed they came to held a young man with dark, feverish eyes.

“Hello, Ray.” The nun bent over him, raising her voice to counteract the moans coming from the other cots. “Look who I brought to see you today.”

The poor fellow seemed oblivious to them. He moved his head back and forth on his pillow and made unintelligible noises, something between a grunt and a moan. He was obviously in a great deal of pain. His cheeks were splotchy, and his eyes bore a bright, fevered glaze.

“He seems much worse today, poor thing.” The nun straightened and looked toward them. “I prayed with him last night, but today he is not even coherent.”

Camellia put a hand on his forehead. His fever was dangerously high. If they didn’t do something to remedy the situation, he would likely die before the day was out. Reaching for the bag at her feet, she opened it and looked for her bag of mint leaves. “Do you have a bowl of water and some clean rags?”

Sister Alice’s face froze for a moment as she considered Camellia’s question, but then she nodded and disappeared from the sickroom, returning a moment later with the required items.

Camellia sprinkled some of the crushed leaves into the water and stirred, watching as the water turned green. She soaked the rag in the treatment, pulled it out, wrung the excess water from it, and placed it on the soldier’s forehead.

The result was immediate. He stopped tossing his head, and the glaze in his eyes dimmed a little.

She was relieved to see the calming effect of her treatment.

“You’re an answer to prayer.” The nun’s voice was filled with joy and wonder. “We’ve been running low on supplies, and no one has the time or temerity to venture into the woods to collect fresh herbs.”

Her hope gave Camellia a feeling of satisfaction. This was the Lord’s doing. He had put her in this place at this time to do His will. It was an exciting, humbling idea. “I don’t have enough for everyone, but we can begin by treating the most serious cases.”

“This is wonderful.” The nun steepled her hands and bowed her head. “Thank You, Lord, for providing in our time of terrible need.” She was silent for a moment as she communed with God. Then she raised her head, determination in every line of her face. “Let’s get to the kitchen and see what we can do.”

Camellia closed her bag and nodded. She glanced toward Jane, who was already moving to another bed where she took the hand of the soldier and began talking to him in a cheerful manner. Each of them had something she could offer the men here. She hoped it would be enough to make a difference.

The hours sped by as she measured out dosages and gave them to the patients according to their needs. She ran out of willow bark first then camphor. By the time they left the hospital, her bag of medicines was much lighter, and every muscle in Camellia’s back ached. But satisfaction overrode her pain. “We make a good team.”

“I don’t know that my part is important.” Jane glanced at her. “But I cannot believe how much you learned in Missouri. You are saving lives.”

“Don’t be so modest. I may have some medicine to help relieve them, but you give them hope by talking to them and reminding them of their homes and families. Without the will to get stronger, no amount of medicine can heal them.”

Camellia could see that her words had struck a chord with Jane. Her head lifted, and tears made her eyes gleam in the dusky light of late afternoon.

Jane reached for her hand and gave it a quick squeeze. “I’m so glad you’ve returned to Vicksburg. And I know someone else who will be equally delighted to see you.”

Knowing her friend was referring to Thad, Camellia smiled. “I can’t wait to see him, too.”

“General Pemberton keeps him fairly busy, but I hope he’ll be at home for dinner tonight.”

Camellia looked down at the soiled material of her gown. “I hope I brought enough clothes with me.”

Laughing, Jane linked arms with her. “If not, we’ll have to share like we did at La Belle.”

The words brought back happy memories. Her life had taken so many unexpected turns since then. Suddenly the time she’d spent in New Orleans seemed unimportant. But without it, she never would have formed this link with Jane. In these uncertain days, such friendships seemed especially important, so she was determined to treasure this one.

D
inner had almost ended when Thad Watkins appeared in the entrance to the dining room. “Am I too late to dine with you?”

His mother shook her head, the dark curls on either side of her jaw quivering. “Of course not.”

“Look who has come to join us.” Jane pointed toward her.

“Camellia?” He turned his handsome face in her direction. “Is it really you?”

She pushed back her chair and stood. “It’s so nice to see you, Captain Watkins.”

Thad took two long strides to reach her and wrapped her in his arms.

Jane giggled, but when Camellia emerged from his embrace, she caught the look of disapproval from his mother. Her face heated, and she stepped back to put a proper distance between them. Her heart was pounding so fast in her chest, she felt like she’d run across the city. Putting a hand on her chest, she glanced back up at him.

“You’re as beautiful as ever.” His eyes made her think of warm chocolate.

She couldn’t help the thrill that shot through her in response to his compliment and admiring gaze. “We’re embarrassing your mother.”

He cleared his throat and looked past her to his parent. “Please excuse my enthusiasm, Mother. I forgot myself for a moment in the excitement of seeing her here.”

“Even though we are caught in the midst of war, we must not forget propriety. If we do, then it will not matter whether or not we win.”

He left Camellia to move to his mother’s chair and drop a kiss on her raised cheek. “You’re right as always. Please forgive me. I promise to be more circumspect.”

Camellia slid back into her chair and put her napkin back in her lap while one of the servants laid a fresh setting for Thad. Her heartbeat returned to normal as she watched him interact with his family.

The shadow of a beard darkened his chin, giving him a slightly dangerous look. But his smile was as bright as ever. “How have you been since leaving Vicksburg last fall?”

Jane passed him a basket of yeast rolls. “Camellia has learned how to be a doctor.”

“Is that right?” His smile dimmed a bit.

“Not really.” She shot a look of warning to Jane. Thad might not approve of women doing such masculine work. “You remember my brother-in-law, Blake Matthews?”

He nodded.

“We went to visit his family in Cape Girardeau, Missouri, because his father had been in an accident. Blake’s aunt was caring for him, and she showed me some of the basic treatments she used.”

“Don’t be so modest, Camellia.” Jane turned to her brother. “Even Sister Alice was impressed with her today. She has asked us to come back to the hospital again in the morning.”

“I don’t know if that’s such a good idea.” Thad’s face wore a frown as his gaze moved between the two of them. “Now that it’s growing warmer, yellow fever may settle on the hospital. I wouldn’t want to see either of you getting sick.”

“I agree.” Mrs. Watkins pushed back her chair. “I think we should plan an outing instead.”

“That’s an excellent idea, Mother. I can ask for a few hours off tomorrow and take you ladies on a picnic.”

Jane clapped her hands, but Camellia felt little enthusiasm for the idea. “But we promised Sister Al—”

“Don’t worry about that.” Thad put down his fork. “I’ll send a note explaining that you’ve been detained. She ought not be so dependent on you anyway. I’m certain the doctors at the hospital have more than enough experience to take care of our soldiers.”

Unable to protest further in the face of their enthusiasm, Camellia desisted. She didn’t like the idea of disappointing the nun, but she was not free to follow her own inclinations. Perhaps she could at least use the outing to gather fresh herbs and roots to replace what she had used today. As her host and hostesses began to make plans, she made a mental list of what she would need. She was determined to use her time wisely and continue the work God had set for her to do.

A distant thunderstorm woke Camellia from her troubled dreams. She stretched her hands over her head and wondered if it would rain all day. She was so tired of spring showers that turned the streets into muddy bayous and raised the level of the waterways surrounding the city. The storm would also put an end to the picnic and to her plan to gather medicaments.

Another clap of thunder sounded, this time much closer. She looked toward her window. The thick curtains stopped her from seeing much, but flashes of lightning shone around their edge.

As they faded, someone began banging on her bedroom door.

Camellia sat up and pulled the sheet up to her chin. “Who’s there?”

“Camellia, wake up.” She recognized Thad’s deep voice. What was he doing outside her bedchamber? “Get dressed quickly and come downstairs.”

She heard his footsteps as he walked away. What was going on? She pushed back the covers and put her bare feet on the floor.

Another knock on the door heralded one of the maids, who entered with a lit candle. “I’ma help you dress, ma’am.” The girl sounded terrified. “We’s all going to the caves.”

More claps of thunder sounded, and Camellia realized what she was hearing was not the sound of nature. The city was under attack. The house shook as a mortar struck somewhere nearby. Would the next one land on top of the Watkinses’ home?

The maid used her candle to light a three-pronged candlestick on the mantel. The additional light chased away some of the shadows in the room, making it easier for the two women to work.

The maid picked up the navy blue skirt she’d worn at dinner the evening before and shook it out. Camellia started to untie the collar of her dressing gown but realized it could serve as a chemise. The skirt went on over it, and she thrust her arms into the matching blouse, buttoning the cuffs with trembling fingers as the maid addressed the back closures Camellia could not reach. In record time, she was presentable, even though her hair was in a single braid and her nightcap was still attached to her head. The screams of the mortar fire made her head pound as she grabbed her bag of medicines and ran down the stairs.