Chapter Three #3
He closed his eyes for a moment, then without looking at her again, said to an orderly, “William, please show her the cleaning closet and whatever else you think she’ll need.
The lady finds the condition of our ward unacceptable.
” This time, he shot a pointed look at Charlotte.
Heat flamed in her cheeks, but she refused to be intimidated.
“Spencer,” Charlotte said timidly. “I wanted to apologize for everything I said yesterday about the hospital.”
His shoulders visibly sagged as he turned his back to her. “Don’t worry about the incident, Charlotte.
She was very sorry for having upset him so.
****
Already having formed a plan of action, Charlotte donned an apron and took mental note of the meager supplies available to her. Basins, scrubbing brushes, rags, big bars of what had to be lye soap. Lye soap! She looked at her hands, which she knew the stuff would burn raw.
Tears burned as she turned a blurred, compassionate gaze to Spencer, who stood with shoulders slumped over an empty cot on the ward.
How dare she think her lot unfair when he was faced with the suffering of these young soldiers and their families?
These people had lost friends and brothers, entire homes—every man who died meant at least one broken heart.
The tragedy, like ripples on a pond, would eventually touch everyone.
Whatever hand she’d been dealt, never had she suffered an army invading her homeland or lost anyone truly close to her.
All those callous comments she’d made about the unsatisfactory state of the hospital, and he’d been fighting to save the life of his friend.
She had been more than cruel to the poor doctor.
****
It was early afternoon when Charlotte finished scrubbing and organizing the large ward. Her duties primarily consisted of cleaning. Cleaning had always been an outlet for her, a means of subduing nervous energy, and after today she should be feeling sufficiently numb to sleep.
The day seemed to last an eternity but eventually evening closed in around them and she dropped wearily onto the floor. The floors gleamed, and every soldier had been supplied with clean linens and a fresh washbasin. She cleaned, sutured, and bandaged the soldiers’ wounds.
It had been a long time since she had been so physically exhausted.
Work as a surgeon had always been difficult and challenging but a great deal of that had been thinking work, mentally exhausting—what she had done today bordered on the realm of backbreaking.
Her muscles would be screaming tomorrow.
Charlotte knew that Civil War nurses were responsible for duties far beyond the care of their patients’ bodies.
She decided to help the wounded and dying soldiers write letters home to their families and prayed for their swift recovery.
She talked to patients about physical and mental battlefield traumas, including the loss of limbs.
Charlotte taught soldiers how to adapt to their wounds and accompanying physical limitations.
She comforted the dying, making their passing as peaceful as possible.
Charlotte perched on a wooden stool with a sheaf of papers on her lap laboriously scratching out a letter.
A soldier who lay on a pallet with a blackened shoulder wound and stump dictated it.
He had a greenish pallor and was clearly in agony.
His legs shifted constantly, his breathing fast and shallow. Gas gangrene emanated from the man.
Charlotte could barely concentrate on what she was doing. The soldier’s voice droned on, and she scribbled as fast as she could to record his words. The pencil lead was soft, and she had to keep stopping to sharpen it with a small knife.
“...and my darling wife how gladly would I wash out with my tears every little strain upon your happiness to shield you from harm.
If the dead can come back to this earth I shall always be near you, always, always and if there be a soft breeze upon your cheek.
Do not mourn me dead, think I am gone and wait for thee, for we shall meet again. .. Love to all. Your beloved husband.
A tingling at the nape of her neck signaled Dr. Abbott’s approach. Tingling? Why am I tingling? What am I afraid of?
The exhausted doctor sank to the floor beside her and leaned his head against the wall with a dull thump.
Turning, Charlotte took a moment to study the man who had occupied her mind so much throughout the day.
Tension and sorrow etched deep lines in his handsome features, but despite that, he looked so young and completely defeated that Charlotte could not help but open her heart to this man. She ached for him.
Without a word, she reached out and laced gentle, if soap-roughened, fingers through his.
As though pulled from a trance Spencer locked soft, pained eyes with hers.
A question seemed to skim the surface of those crisp sapphire gems and for the briefest moment Charlotte thought he would speak.
But it was in silence that he gazed at her so intently he must be able to read her most intimate thoughts and fears.
It’s as if he can look directly into my soul.
The sensation was unsettling to say the least, but she could not tear her eyes away.
This man seemed to need her. Could it be that it wasn’t only the injured in need of healing?
“What is it about you?” he asked quietly. “One moment I think I could throttle you, and in the next I want ... something else altogether.”
He shook his head as if forbidding her to go on, then seemingly embarrassed he rose hastily to his feet.
“I am so sorry for my criticism of the hospital earlier, Spencer. I shouldn’t have spoken to you so harshly,” she apologized yet again.
If she could have taken the words back, she would have...
He cleared his throat.
“Thank you,” he said briskly, averting his gaze as he gestured about the hospital. “You’ve really whipped this place into shape. I’m impressed. I ... I hope you’ll return. We could certainly use you around here on a regular basis.”
Charlotte smiled warmly and accepted his hand as he assisted her to her feet.
“Don’t worry. I’ll be back. It’s nice to feel like I’m doing some good. How about you, Spencer? Are you feeling better after this morning?”
The strong line of his jaw hardened, and a chilling blankness blocked the air from her throat.
“I didn’t mean to upset you, but you know it isn’t your fault Jimmy died.”
“What would you know about it? It is my fault. I couldn’t save him.”
A muscle worked testily in his jaw and the anguish in his voice ripped at her soul.
“He was my youngest brother’s best friend and when I brought him home, I swore to his mother I wouldn’t let anything happen to him. I swore to her that I would keep him safe but—”
His voice cracked and he looked away, dropping her hand from his elbow as he turned.
“There must have been something else I could have done. Something I missed.”
His hands raised in a futile gesture.
“Now I have to go and face Mrs. Gooding.”
“We all have patients die, Spencer. I can’t count the number of times I’ve wondered what more could’ve been done, especially when working with children, but sometimes it just doesn’t matter. Sometimes bad things happen and there is no rhyme or reason for it.”
Suddenly Charlotte realized Spencer was gazing down at her, intensity radiating from his eyes.
Gently he reached out and tipped her chin with his fingers.
For a moment Charlotte thought he was going to kiss her.
I want him to kiss me! But just as the breath caught in her throat he backed away.
A strange mixture of relief and disappointment filled her as she stood watching his departing back.
Am I losing my mind? Do I want him or not?
Yes, I know I do, I think it’s time to confess that I love him with all my heart.