Chapter 13 #2
Annamae took a deep breath and instantly regretted it.
The air reeked of decay and stagnant water.
“We were whispering because it was midnight, and we didn’t want to disturb the other patients.
The boy’s name was Ben, only seventeen years old.
Ben has a younger sister, and Monty was upset at having to inform her about her brother’s passing and that she would have to join the orphan train. ”
Clara bent her head. “Poor child.”
A robin landed on a nearby tree branch and flicked its wings. For the first time, Annamae noticed how every tree at the base of the hill was charred black, like they’d burned, yet stood strong. Surely, that hadn’t resulted from the flood.
“Is that why you disappeared to Holt House this morning?”
Annamae’s head whipped around. “I … yes. I wanted to check on Monty and Joanna.”
“Monty, eh?” Mischief danced in Clara’s dark eyes.
“Mr. Childs. I mentioned to him our need of a chaplain with all the other ministers already committed to the morgues and relief committees. He said he’d let me know.”
“Very good.” Clara’s narrowed but playful eyes told Annamae she saw deeper than the surface of her words. “And this moonlit walk?”
Annamae chuckled at the ridiculousness of the rumor. “He went with me to headquarters to report Ben’s passing so his body could be transported to the morgue. Then we returned to the tent—under the moon because it was midnight—and then he left to sleep in his church.”
“Very well, Annamae.” Clara patted her hand. “I wanted to hear your side of the tale. I know how some women like to chatter.”
So, she was back to Annamae now.
“I suppose I needn’t remind you of our position here.
” Clara’s features turned serious, accentuating the puffiness under her lower eyelashes.
“We’re here to serve, and we must be aboveboard in all that we do.
Even when comforting a patient. You mustn’t allow your emotions to override your good sense. ”
What was she supposed to have done, pushed Monty away? “Yes, ma’am.”
“I haven’t seen this much desolation, this much need, in many years.” Clara craned her neck and gazed in every direction.
Smoke lifted from fires of burning debris. The air was full of the hum of voices, shouts, crashes, booms, and wails. “Our purpose isn’t always easy, as nurses or as women.”
Annamae studied the fierce warrior who barely reached her chin.
“You can’t give a piece of your heart to each patient, or you’ll go mad. You must learn to distance your emotions, do what needs to be done, and save the tears for when it’s all over.”
“Is that how you survived nursing during the war?” Annamae wondered how such a fine and genteel woman could withstand such horrors and still be the lady Clara was today.
A peaceful sense of accomplishment curled Clara’s mouth. “Have I ever told you about my brother, David?”
“No, ma’am.”
“To me, David was like a hero out of a storybook. Tall and athletic. Courageous. Never one to turn down a dare. He was the one who taught me to ride horses. You see, I used to be dreadfully afraid of them.”
Annamae found it hard to believe this woman had ever been afraid of anything.
“David and I were very close, even though we were years apart in age. In the spring of 1832, during a barn raising, he wanted to prove his athleticism by volunteering to nail the high rafters to the ridgepole. Knowing him, there was a lady present he wanted to impress. But a board broke beneath his feet, and he crashed into a pile of heavy timbers. Got a terrible blow to the head. For two years he hovered between life and death, and I refused to leave his side.”
“What happened?”
“I was only eleven, and it upset me to watch the doctors apply leeches. Bloodletting is an awful practice—don’t ever allow a physician to talk you into doing it.”
Annamae nodded.
“I thought they’d drain him dry. Nothing worked. That’s when I decided my nursing would help him the most. I only left that room for one half day the entire two years. I almost forgot there was an outside world beyond those bedroom walls.”
Clara chuckled.
“He’d have terrible fits of anger and nervousness. Clung to me through it all. It wasn’t until the steam baths that he finally improved. By that time, I had lost most of my strength. I’d forgotten how to be a child.”
“Did David recover?”
“Fully. He became an assistant quartermaster for the Union army.”
Annamae’s skin pebbled. What an amazing story.
What an amazing lady.
Clara raised her chin. “I shared that with you so you know I’m aware of how a patient can suffer mental scars as well as physical.
I also know how hard it is to distance yourself when you have a tender heart.
Many a man during the war reminded me of David, lying on a sick bed, crying out for someone to end his misery.
I comforted as best I could. Once, I made a pie using the soldier’s mother’s recipe he carried in his pocket onto the battlefield, of all things.
But I always had to guard my heart. Think before I acted.
The entry I’d gained on the battlefield to help those men could be snatched away at the slightest impropriety. ”
Annamae considered the unspoken warning in Clara’s advice. “I understand, ma’am.”
“You’re a good girl. I knew you would.” Clara spun toward the tents. “Now, go finish making those beds and then get some sleep until the surgeon general arrives.”
Though Clara’s words had been nothing but kind, Annamae’s pride felt beaten and whipped.
She contemplated Clara’s words as she tucked clean sheets around the thin, stained ticks and carried the soiled laundry away to the boiling cauldron.
This position was all she had now that her father was gone, and she’d worked hard for it.
She had to do everything she could to keep it.
Even if it meant isolating her heart from the handsome, broken pastor.