Love Inspired Historical October 2013 Bundle: A Family for Christmas\The Secret Princess\Taming the Texas Rancher\An Unlikely Union (87 page)

“Indeed,” Emily agreed, her own conscience pricked.
Nor is it proper that I have been thinking of you.
“I’ll speak to Nurse Branson.”

“Do more than that. Keep your eye on them both. I don’t trust either of them.”

Uneasiness smothered the emotions she had previously felt and proved her point. Propriety
was
of utmost importance, but Emily didn’t like what he was asking her to do. He wanted her to spy. If Lewis Powell wished to express his belief in States Rights and Maggie Branson to inquire of soldiers still serving in the Confederate army, Emily would not stop them. How could she? She had done the same.

“I need not remind you what this city is capable of,” Dr. Mackay said. “The women here serve the South. They will do anything to aid their men, their precious cause.”

Those gray eyes were locked on hers, and for a moment Emily felt as though he could see right through her. “Why are you telling me this?” she asked.

“Because in these past two weeks I have come to believe that you are different.”

“Different?”

“Aye.”

Emily didn’t know what to say to that. More than anything, she hoped he would see her for the woman she was. She was heartbroken over this war. She wanted to ease the suffering. She wanted to do so with him.

But he saw none of that. All he saw was a potential Unionist, a lost sheep who had realized the error of her ways and was trying to make her way back to the Federal fold. Tears clouded her eyes. Emily turned so he would not see.

“Thank you for your assistance,” she said.

She filled a cup, intent on carrying it to the first soldier she found awake. Dr. Mackay thought the water was for him. His long fingers brushed hers as he took it from her hand. Emily felt a shiver travel straight up her arm.

“Thank you,” he said. “You have always been very kind.”

The artillery barrage began again. Which fired first, her ears or her heart, she wasn’t sure.

“I know I haven’t been the easiest physician to work with.”

Her mouth felt as though it was stuffed full of lint packing. Swallowing hard, she dared to look at him. “You are grieving,” she said. “It is understandable.”

Evan’s broad shoulders rose, then fell with a sharp breath, almost as if he hoped no one in the room had heard what she had just said.

Emily could not understand.
Why does he think his pain will be viewed as a sign of weakness?

“Aye,” he admitted. “So I am. I appreciate your...forbearance.”

Something significant passed between them in that moment. So much so that Emily once again had difficulty breathing. She felt as though the real Evan Mackay was standing before her, the one Mary must have fallen in love with, the honorable, gifted physician who had served God and humanity before distrust and disgust had darkened his heart.

Though she feared her eyes were revealing much more than she wished to make known, she did not break his gaze. “I am praying for you, Evan.”

He gave her hand a quick yet gentle squeeze; then he moved for the door. Emily felt the warmth of his touch long after he had exited the ward.

* * *

Evan made his way up the narrow staircase to the officers’ quarters. The night watchman tipped his kepi as he passed by. The man had apparently grown so accustomed to Evan’s wanderings that he no longer inquired if everything was well. He was not well, of course. Memories of Mary drifted through his mind and Andrew’s death remained constant in his thoughts.

He was empty inside, but he was functioning. He had to admit, knowing Nurse Emily cared enough to speak to God on his behalf was a comfort. Her words whispered through his mind.

I am praying for you, Evan.

I am.
Which he took to mean,
I have been
and
I will continue to do so.
How long had she been praying for him? Today? This week? Since that day in the scrub closet? He knew Mary had prayed for him each day of their life together. He knew because he could feel the difference when those prayers stopped. He felt the barrier, that wall between him and God.

You can’t feel God’s love, His presence, because you won’t let go of your hate.

He had been a believer long enough to know Emily’s words were true. But how could he let go when every day in this city was a constant reminder of what had happened to his family? How could he forgive when he knew each reb he tended would fire upon U.S. soldiers again if given the opportunity?

Perhaps if all the rebs were like Nurse Emily, I could manage it.

He reached his room. He didn’t even bother lighting a candle. Laying his watch on the table and tossing his vest aside, he sat down on his cot. Jacob Turner’s snoring was heard beyond the wall and on the floor below a Johnnie trapped in a nightmare was giving orders that no one would obey.

Evan’s mind returned to the night the rebel major had assaulted Emily. He’d been convinced she was his enemy. He would never forget the emotions in her eyes—shock, fear, but beyond that, compassion. She showed grace to the scoundrel in spite of what he had done.

He saw the same emotions on her face when she looked at
him.
That day when Evan had poured out his secrets, confessed his faults, her eyes had been full of love. His starving spirit craved her words of encouragement.

You are the most gifted physician in this hospital....Oh what healing you could bring if only you would allow God to do so for you.

Evan
lay in the darkness. The silver moon shone through the cracked windowpane above his bed as his thoughts continued to churn. He wanted God’s healing. He wanted to be rid of the anger, the guilt and the grief he had carried for the past two years. His heart told him to pray, yet still he resisted.

What could he say to the Creator of the universe? Where would he even begin?

Chapter Ten

E
mily waited for a moment when she was certain Lewis and the other men were asleep. Sometime after midnight Maggie came to fetch herself a drink of water. Emily seized the opportunity to broach the subject.

“May I speak with you? It concerns Lewis.”

The girl flashed an innocent smile and with a giggle whispered, “Isn’t he just the most handsome man?”

The poor soldier had been kicked in the face by the family donkey when he was thirteen. He had told Emily the story the day he arrived. His jaw had been broken and, as a result, the left side of his face was more prominent then the right. Emily thought his lines odd, his expressions cold at times, but Maggie saw differently.

“I realize you have eyes for one another. Far be it from me to tell you who you should court...”

Maggie’s smile faded. A look of embarrassment took its place.

“But it isn’t proper for you to be sitting so close to his cot, nor exchanging whispers like you do.”

“Did that Federal doctor take issue?” she asked.

Emily was honest. The girl was probably only five or six years younger than she, but she felt it necessary to mother her. “Yes. He did, but I am concerned for you, as well. All I am saying is be careful, not only concerning your reputation as a lady but as a nurse. Remember, this is an army hospital and Lewis is a prisoner of war.”

Maggie blanched, seeing where Emily was leading. “And if anyone thinks we are spreading secessionist ideals, it could make things very difficult for him.”

“Yes, it could, but it could also be difficult for you. They could ask you to leave, or even worse.”

Emily didn’t need to say anything more. Only three women had been held at Fort McHenry thus far, but Maggie obviously did not wish to be the fourth. She nodded gravely.

“I understand.”

“Good. You are a fine nurse, Maggie. Don’t let anything jeopardize that.”

“I won’t. I promise.”

Emily offered her a gentle smile. She could sympathize with the girl’s predicament. She also knew what it was like for a man to become a distraction during duty.

Maggie returned to her chair, although she did move it several feet away from Lewis’s bed. Satisfied, Emily went back to work. The night continued quietly, the men sleeping soundly. Even Ben managed to capture a few hours.

Sunrise came, and Evan returned to the ward. Emily took one look at the dark circles under his eyes and knew sleep had evaded him. Before leaving for home she went down to the kitchen. The staff was busy preparing the morning meal, but one of the cook’s assistants secured a warm biscuit and a fresh cup of coffee for her. She promptly took them to Evan.

“Thank you, lass.”

She loved it when he called her that. The smile he gave her sent her heart fluttering. Emily had to draw in several deep breaths to slow it to a normal rhythm.

He downed a mouthful of coffee just as Rebekah stepped up to join them. Emily wasn’t even aware that she had arrived until she wished them both a good morning.

Disappointment filled her chest for she did not wish to leave. Knowing, however, it would be conspicuous if she delayed any longer, Emily delivered the morning report. She then gathered up her belongings and started for the door.

* * *

The Johnny convalescent from Florida followed orders well enough. He immediately carried out whatever task he had been assigned. He even scrubbed floors without complaint.

Old General Lee must have taught cleanliness was next to Godliness because the reb had every speck of dust, blood and vomit removed by the time Evan returned from the midday meal. Seeing that, he had him start on the windows. They were filthy, as well.

“That be all, sir?” the prisoner asked when finished.

Evan stared into his eyes. The boy played the part of a hardworking, obedient minister’s son, but Evan was certain something else was there.

You would slice my throat or any other Unionist if given the opportunity.
Evan would be glad to be rid of him.
Let the officers at Fort McHenry see to him
. He hoped parole for this particular reb would be denied. That way, Lewis Powell would spend the rest of the war in chains.

“Empty the chamber pots so Nurse Rebekah doesn’t have to do so,” he told him. “She must attend to more important matters.”

“Yes, sir. Right away.”

Powell hurried off. Evan watched him go. He wondered if the little rebel miss who had been caught whispering with him had been spoken to as of yet. He hoped so or he would see to the matter himself. Nurse Emily innocently believed the Branson girl was simply taken with the boy, but Evan suspected there was much more going on than that.

They are planning something. I am convinced of it. And when I catch them, those two rebs will be sorry they ever crossed the United States army.

The afternoon passed slowly. Finally the dinner bell sounded. Evan picked at his meal, while others around him engaged in banter and periodically tried to draw him in. He endured the conversation for a few moments, then left the table. Emily would be arriving shortly. He wanted to speak with her.

She was already in the ward when he returned. Having arrived early, she was restocking the supply cabinet. He approached her.

“Did you reprimand Nurse Branson?”

Bandage roll suspended in midair, she turned to look at him. Evan caught just a hint of lilac water. The scent was lovely, but he did his best to ignore it.

“I spoke with her last night,” she said.

“And?”

“She assured me that she would think twice concerning her actions, lest they be misinterpreted.”

“Oh, there is no misinterpreting them.”

The look in her eyes at that moment caused him to think he had wounded her in some way.
What did I say? We discussed the Branson girl’s infatuation with the Florida reb just last night. You agreed with my assessment.

Her pink mouth shifted slightly. Evan stared at it for longer than he should have. “Was there anything else that you wanted?” she asked.

“No,” he said quickly. “Nothing further. Just keep an eye on them both and fetch me if there is any trouble. I am going to get some sleep.”

* * *

Fetch me if there is trouble?
What kind of trouble was he expecting? Did he think Maggie was planning some sinister revenge for making Lewis empty chamber pots and scrub windows? Or did he think the man would dash from his bed, wield a knife and slay all supporters of Lincoln before sunrise?

Emily sighed.
Will he ever see beyond the uniforms to the people beneath?

The night was a long one, the air humid and stale. She moved about, reading requested passages from the Psalms. Most of the men were then able to sleep. Ben, however, continued to toss and turn. Emily asked if he would like to talk or if there was anyone to whom he would like to write. He shook his head no and rolled to his side.

Maggie had taken her post by a North Carolina man who’d developed wound fever. Emily sponged the forehead of another man sick with the same. Evan passed through the room twice that night, once with a sour glance for Maggie, the second with a cold reminder to her.

“Keep your eye on them both,” he whispered.

Whatever evil plot he thought would unfold did not happen. When Emily left the hospital the following morning, her shoulders sagged. A beautiful sunrise colored the horizon, but she found no joy in the coming day.

Joshua and Abigail were waiting on Pratt Street.

“You look tired,” Abigail immediately said.

“I am.” Emily climbed into the seat beside her. Joshua gave the reins a click. They rolled from the hospital.

“How’s that Yankee doctor?”

Abigail’s inquiry sparked a flurry of feelings, none of which Emily knew how to respond to. Her friend then clicked her tongue, smiled mischievously.

“What?” Emily asked.

“You. Trying to hide it. You don’t think I know?”

“Know what?”

Abigail gave her a look. “You’ve got your cap set for him.”

Embarrassment flooded Emily’s face. “I do not. It is nothing like that.”

“What is it then?”

She couldn’t say exactly—or rather,
wouldn’t.
The fact was Emily did have feelings for Evan, strong ones, at that. And if Abigail had noticed, had the rest of the girls, as well?

“He’s a Federal soldier, Abigail,” Emily insisted.

“And I’m a freeman’s bride. You my friend, ain’t ya?”

“Yes...but that’s different.”

“Don’t see how.” Abigail chuckled once more. “People are people. Don’t matter what skin they have or what clothes they wear.”

Deep down, she knew Abigail was right. There was more to Evan than that dreadful uniform and military bearing. She had seen glimpses of whom she believed to be the true man. But she knew full well any silly notion of some grand, romantic adventure while healing the wounds of humanity was ridiculous. He would not let go of his hate.

She told Abigail about how he treated Lewis and Maggie, how he still often spoke to her. She even told her about his brother.

“Sounds like you need to pray for him.”

“I have been.”

“But?”

“Well, he’s like the wounded soldiers, the ones who end up losing their arms and legs because of infection.”

“What do you mean?”

Emily’s throat tightened as tears threatened in her eyes. “Unforgiveness is slowly eating him up inside. I fear it will ultimately destroy him.”

Abigail slid her arm around her. “Don’t give up hope. Love is more powerful than hate. You just gotta keep believing that.”

When Emily returned to the hospital the following night, she tried to keep Abigail’s words in mind. Love could soften hearts, foster forgiveness. All things were possible with God’s grace.

Her faith, however, was severely tested that night. The heat was stifling and nearly every guard, prisoner and doctor was in a sour mood. Emily moved through the ward with a bucket of fresh water. Evan’s face held a particular scowl as she brought him a drink.

“I wish I had lemonade or cold tea to offer you,” she said, hoping to coax a smile.

He wiped the sweat from his forehead with the back of his hand and grunted. “That would be too good for them.”

Hiding her disappointment, Emily quietly walked away. She returned to her wounded charges.

Lewis and Maggie seemed to be the only cheerful people that night. She hummed a happy tune as she changed bandages. He fanned patients until the heat took its toll on him as well. His nightshirt was soaked and his body exhausted. Emily convinced him to return to his own cot.

“But they need me, Miss Emily,” he insisted.

“You won’t be able to help them if you become ill yourself. Get some sleep. I will wake you if need be.”

He was out in five minutes. Eventually the rest of the ward was snoring as well, all except Ben. He wrestled and punched his pillow for hours. Emily went to him. Tonight he seemed to welcome her company.

“What did you do before all of this?” he asked her.

She offered him a slight smile. “The same as other girls.”

He grinned. “I’ll bet you had a beau come calling every evening.”

Emily swatted the fly circling his bed. “Hardly,” she said. “What did you do before the fighting?”

“I worked the docks.”

“What, here?”

“Yes.”

“I didn’t know that you were a Baltimorean.”

“Oh yes. Born and raised. My brother, Jake, and I worked the wharf since we were fourteen. Then came the war.”

“Did Jake go with you?”

He shook his head. Sadness filled his eyes. “He died the day of the riot.”

Emily’s heart squeezed. “I’m sorry to hear that.”

“I was back in one of the warehouses, seein’ to some bales of cotton. I didn’t know the trouble had started. Didn’t know then that the soldiers had fired upon our men.” He winced. “My brother died on the cobblestones.”

Tears clouded her eyes as she continued to listen.

“I enlisted the day we buried him,” Ben said. “Went to Virginia just like a lot of other fellas from around here.”

It was a story she had heard time and again, yet it never failed to bring a quiver to her chin. Little did anyone in this city realize then what far-reaching effects that dreadful riot would bring. Men like Ben Reed, like Edward and Stephen, donned gray and butternut. Men like Evan Mackay put on blue.

Two years had passed and the war still raged. The color of the uniforms made no difference when it came to the scars. Each side carried them.

Ben’s thoughts then moved from his brother to his comrades. “A lot of good fellas have given their lives, yet my state’s still occupied by bluecoats.”

The thought crossed her mind that Evan would not like this conversation, but Emily decided to let Ben speak. Doing so had helped Edward. She hoped the same would be true for this man.