Chapter 46
Chapter Forty-Six
Ginger
The last thing Ginger had expected was work triage before dawn on the streets of Jerusalem, but somehow all roads always seemed to lead back to that. Fortunately, she hadn’t been alone—a local doctor had rushed to the scene after hearing the gunfire bringing much-needed supplies with him.
Then he’d helped her get Ruby to the local hospital, where Ginger had pleaded for the opportunity to help with the operation to remove the bullet from Ruby’s leg.
The doctor had been skeptical about her credentials but had allowed Ginger to assist as a nurse—a blow to Ginger’s pride, but not a battle worth fighting that morning.
Ruby was more important. She’d have to spend several months recovering, but she was alive.
Thank goodness.
Ginger didn’t know her and, the truth was, much as it hurt to lose any patient, right now she’d cared more about saving Ruby for Alex’s sake. Alex had nearly thrown his own life away saving Ruby from Prescott—if she’d died after all his efforts, he might not have ever recovered from that.
Ginger left the operating room and went down the hallway to the patient room where the local doctor had put Noah and Alex. Her husband and son, both carrying minor injuries, were a sight for sore eyes despite their bandages.
Both stared at her, identical eyes tracking her movements with identical expressions.
Father and son.
How could Alex have ever doubted it?
She closed the door to the room, then leaned back against it, exhausted.
“She’s fine,” Ginger said to Alex first, recognizing the anxious look in his eyes. “She’ll be just fine, thanks to you.”
Relief settled Alex’s expression, and he sank further back into his chair.
“Thank goodness.” He scratched a cut above his eyebrow, gloomily as he looked from his mother to his father.
“I’m sorry, Mama. Papa. I shouldn’t have left Penmore without telling you.
Maybe none of this would have happened.” He stared at his shoes.
“I didn’t know you would have the means . ..”
Noah cleared his throat and met Ginger’s gaze, then leaned closer to Alex and set his hand on his shoulder.
“A lot of what happened during the war and when we were first married is ... complicated history. We should have told you about it sooner. Including the fact that my work was primarily in intelligence. There’s a lot we still need to tell you. ”
Alex lifted his face, his eyes shining with tears. “I might have killed a man, Papa. Or at the very least wounded him gravely. I thought I saw Prescott get out, but I don’t know. I might have just hoped I—I ...”
Ginger’s throat clenched. She knew the burden of that horrible guilt. “If Prescott died, you should know your actions might have saved others, Alex.”
“But, a life—”
Noah nudged him gently. “Death—especially when it’s violent—is always ugly. No amount of philosophizing can change that fact. And the days to come will be difficult. But you’re not to blame for what happened, either. And we will never think less of you for it.”
Ginger began, “But, Alex—”
He stiffened, ready for his mother’s inevitable scolding.
Ginger’s throat filled with tears. “I’m so proud of you, son.” She hurried over toward him, then threw her arms around him.
She hadn’t anticipated Noah stepping quietly from his seat, but when he did and wrapped them both tightly in his arms, the weight of years seemed to lift.
Maybe she didn’t need a grand hospital in the country to prove her worth—she could save lives from anywhere. And maybe she didn’t always need to prove herself, either. This morning had demonstrated that.
The medical community could be damned. For twelve years she’d fought against a tide determined to belittle what she had built, and nearly let its pressure grind the love out of her work.
She would not waste herself in endless battle.
Yet her time away had reminded her she still had fight left, if she chose where to spend it.
Alex was safe. Ivy and Victoria were tucked away in Cairo, beyond harm. Soon she would gather them, return to England for Clara, and go home.
Her family, and the community that needed her, were all that mattered.
The rest—the councils, the journals that dismissed her, the men who tried to silence her—could rage at the sea of change. She would stand where she was needed, as she always had, with no apologies and no regrets.