Название: An Unlikely Union
Автор: Shannon Farrington
Издательство: HarperCollins
Жанр: Исторические любовные романы
isbn: 9781472014443
isbn:
She had written countless letters on behalf of men too sick to do so for themselves. She recited Bible verses and poetry. She also spent a great deal of time fanning the suffering, an effort to break the sweltering midsummer heat.
Emily’s friend Julia Ward was doing so now. She was seated at her brother’s bedside. Edward still slept heavily from his surgery. Looking at him, Emily sighed. He was once the most confident, dashing man of her neighborhood and had captured ladies’ hearts with ease. Injury, illness and two years of war, however, had ravaged his chiseled face and muscular frame. Emily wondered just what Edward would think when he woke to find his left arm was no more.
Each man reacted differently to the devastating reality of amputation. Some cried out for their missing limbs; others simply turned in silence toward the wall. Whichever Edward’s reaction, she hoped he would realize that his family and friends still cared for him. Emily moved closer to his bed. Julia looked up. Fatigue lined her eyes.
“Has there been any change?” Emily asked.
“No.”
She could hear the discouragement in her friend’s voice. Emily tried to reassure her. “Sometimes it takes quite a while for the ether to wear off.”
“He isn’t any cooler. At least not yet.”
Emily felt Edward’s forehead for herself. “It is still early.”
“Would you bring me a basin and some cool water?” Julia asked. “I’ll sponge his face and neck.”
“That would be very helpful, but be careful not to overdo.”
“I won’t.”
Edward’s sister had faithfully attended him since his arrival yet she was not a nurse. Emily knew exactly why Julia had not volunteered. Although her sacque bodice and gored skirts concealed any evidence from the average passerby, Emily and her closest friends knew the truth. Julia was expecting a child.
“Em?” she asked.
“Yes?”
“When Edward begins to stir...will he be sick to his stomach...or have strange visions? I have heard that some men do.”
“Not necessarily, but we should keep watch. The best thing you can do for now is stay beside him. Alert me the moment he begins to wake.”
Commotion at the far end of the ward caught Emily’s attention. Dr. Mackay was barking orders to two of the Federal stewards.
“I told you to deliver him to surgery! Do so immediately!”
She swallowed back the lump in her throat and watched as the young men in blue scrambled to obey. The man in question had severe shrapnel wounds to his leg.
“Tell the surgeon to cut the leg now or he’ll have another dead man on his hands!”
Emily gasped. The poor man about to undergo the procedure was so delirious with wound fever that he knew not what was about to happen, but everyone else in the room did. Their faces went pale. Even the stewards cringed at the doctor’s harsh tone.
Forcing herself to continue, she found Julia a sponge and basin, then moved on. A soldier several beds down from Edward asked for a drink. Emily brought him a cupful of the freshest water she could find. His face immediately brightened.
“Bless you, Miss Emily.”
“God bless you, Jimmy.”
He drank his fill, then leaned back upon his pillow. Dark curls flopped about his forehead. “Is the surgeon really gonna take Freddy’s leg?” he asked.
Freddy was Jimmy’s comrade and unfortunately the subject of Dr. Mackay’s recent tirade. Emily hoped her tone sounded encouraging despite the news.
“I am afraid so, Jimmy, but it is what is best for him, in order to save his life.”
His chin quivered ever so slightly. Emily didn’t know how old he was exactly, but he looked barely beyond boyhood.
“Me and Freddy come up together,” he said. “All the way from Saint Mary’s City.”
Emily recognized the name of the southern Maryland town; she had once visited the place when her father, a lawyer, had business there.
“Is that where your family is from?” she asked as she straightened his bed coverings.
“Yes’um. Freddy’s, too.” His thoughts then shifted. “Reckon they will send us both to that new prison camp they’ve made? The one at Point Lookout?”
She would not allow herself to dwell on what would happen after these men were discharged from the hospital. More than likely, they would be sent to one of two Federal prison camps, either Fort Delaware or the one Jimmy had mentioned at the mouth of the Potomac River.
“I don’t know where they will send you,” she said honestly. “But I hope that your stay there will be short.”
“Well, if I gotta go to prison, I hope it’s Point Lookout. At least then I’ll be closer to home.”
She smoothed back his dark curls as a mother would do, tucking a small child in for the night. The gesture had a dual purpose, comfort for him and evaluation of potential fever. Thankfully, Jimmy’s forehead was cool.
“It would do you well right now to try and dream of home,” she said.
“Yes’um. I reckon it would. But before you go...would you mind prayin’ for Freddy? I know you bein’ a lady and a volunteer from the Christian Commission...Well, would you please?”
She was touched by his request and the concern for his friend which was so evident in his eyes. “I would be honored to do so.”
He reached for her hand. Had they been conversing at dinner or a society ball, the gesture would be entirely too forward. Yet here in the hospital, Emily often cast society’s rules aside for the sake of grace and compassion. She clasped his hand and prayed for Freddy. She prayed for Jimmy as well. When she had finished, she whispered, “Try not to fret. God already has looked after your friend, for Dr. Turner is now the surgeon on duty. He’s a kind and capable man.”
His face brightened somewhat. “Thank you, Miss Emily. That’s right good to hear. Some docs are better than others ’round here.”
She knew which doctor he was referring to, and although she probably should have defended Dr. Mackay’s skills, she let the opportunity pass. She stood, pleased that the worry in Jimmy’s eyes had faded.
“Rest well,” she said to him.
He smiled and turned to his side. Emily straightened his coverings once more, then turned, as well, only to crash directly into the chest of the angry Scotsman.
* * *
Words were quick to shape in his mind, but Evan held his tongue as his blue wool collided with her Southern-grown, Baltimore-milled cotton. The woman came no higher than his breastbone. After staring seemingly СКАЧАТЬ