Dancing in the Rain (8 page)

It was all Dwight could do not to laugh. He had never heard anything so absurd in his entire life. But the patient was less critical. He let out a full-bodied laugh. “That’s good,” Carolyn said with another of those smiles that must have charmed the young men in Texas. “Laughter can heal almost as well as medicine.”

“If you say so, Nurse.” Corporal Miller closed his eyes and relaxed. Dwight shook his head slightly. Though Carolyn’s techniques were distinctly unconventional, he had to admit they worked.

“Did your grandmother live with you?” he asked when they had sutured the corporal’s wounds. Although he normally spoke only to demand another instrument or bandage, Dwight was feeling almost ebullient at the fact that he had saved the man’s arm. Miller would return home able to wrap both arms around his sweetheart. Sweetheart? Where had that thought come from? Dwight hadn’t been thinking of Louise.

“What makes you think that?”

For a second, Dwight stared at Carolyn, wondering how she had known he was thinking about sweethearts. Then he realized she was responding to his question about her grandmother. “You quote her so often,” Dwight said, hoping his relief that she was not a mind reader was not obvious. He didn’t need anyone—especially Carolyn—knowing the direction his thoughts had taken. “I figured you must have spent a lot of time with your grandmother.”

Carolyn blushed. Her lips parted as if she were going to speak, but before any words could emerge, she clamped them together.

Though Dwight raised one brow, trying to encourage her, she remained silent. By the time she had anesthetized a man with a head wound but had uttered not one word, Dwight was annoyed. Was she playing a game, reminding him that he was normally taciturn? Pettiness like that seemed out of character for Carolyn.

When her lips quivered again, Dwight could stand it no longer. “It’s obvious you want to say something. Do it.”

She shook her head and handed him the forceps he’d requested. “You told me to think before speaking or acting. I simply took your advice.”

He grimaced. “Is this a case of ‘be careful what you ask for’?” When Carolyn shrugged, Dwight suspected she had no intention of responding to his original question. “At this point, whatever you say can hardly be classified as impulsive,” he told her. Though he’d been mildly curious about her grandmother when he’d posed his question, now Dwight felt an almost irrational need to know how the older woman had influenced Carolyn. “You’ve had plenty of time to think and to phrase your answer as carefully as an attorney.” Dwight looked down at his patient, annoyed when he realized how distracted he was. “Come on, Carolyn. What’s the problem? All I did was ask was a simple question.”

“But the answer’s not so simple.” Another blush stained her cheeks. Dwight wondered if she realized how becoming that blush was. Even when frowning, Carolyn was a beautiful woman, but with the faint color on her face and those sparkling blue eyes … Dwight clenched his jaw, attempting to repress thoughts that were decidedly inappropriate.

“Promise you won’t tell anyone?” she asked. She looked around the room, as if trying to assure herself that no one would overhear her. But the rest of the staff, unlike Dwight, was too busy treating the wounded to care about Carolyn’s revelation.

Dwight nodded his assent. “And if you’re wondering whether you can trust me, remember that you’re the one who said I have honest thumbs.” He couldn’t help the smile that crossed his face at the memory of her absurd declaration. It was just another dreary day in Goudot, with rain pelting the windows. The coal shortage had worsened, and now even the operating theater, which had been reasonably warm yesterday, felt frigid. Yet the dismal conditions had seemed to fade when Carolyn told her tales. Honest thumbs! What an idea!

“That’s the problem.”

Dwight quirked an eyebrow. “You mean you were wrong, and I don’t have honest thumbs?”

“No.” As she glanced at his hands, another blush rose to her cheeks. “That is …” Carolyn swallowed deeply, then blurted out the words, “I don’t know …”

“You mean your grandmother really didn’t teach you how to judge thumbs and mules’ ears?”

Carolyn shook her head. “My grandmother didn’t teach me anything. Both of my grandmothers died before I was born.”

Her response surprised him, as she must have known it would. Once again, Clothespin Carolyn had done the unpredictable. “Then all those granny stories …”

“Were just that: stories.”

“Let me guess. You invented the grandmother and her homilies on an impulse.” That seemed to be the way Carolyn got through life, doing whatever seemed best at the time.

“Exactly.” Judging from the expression on her face, she had no regrets, other than the fact that he’d revealed her deception. “I wanted to make the soldiers laugh.” Her eyes were somber as she continued. “Haven’t you noticed that no one thinks young women are funny? If I had told the same stories and admitted they were mine, no one would have been amused. So I invented a wise old grandmother.”

It wasn’t, Dwight had to admit, a bad idea. “Let me look at your hands.” Obviously puzzled by the request, she held them out for his inspection. They were small, almost delicate, with graceful fingers. And one of those fingers bore an engagement ring. Dwight started to frown, then stopped himself. Of course, she was engaged. He’d known that from the first day she’d assisted him.

“Is something wrong?” she asked.

He nodded solemnly. “I was right.” He paused for effect, then added,
“You
don’t have honest thumbs.”

Carolyn’s eyes widened in obvious surprise. “You made a joke, Doctor Hollins.” There was a note of wonderment in her voice.

“Why, so I did.” Dwight looked down at the man on the stretcher. It hadn’t hurt either him or his patient. Maybe Carolyn was right. Maybe humor had its place.

In her dream, someone was ill, violently ill. Carolyn turned and pulled the pillow over her head, willing the dream to go away. But the sounds continued, retching punctuated with soft moans of pain. It was no dream! Carolyn’s eyes flew open and she sat up, tossing the pillow aside as she realized that Helen was in agony.

“What’s wrong?” she asked, lighting a lamp. The only thing worse than being sick was being sick in the dark. She wondered how long her roommate had been huddled over a basin. In Carolyn’s dream, the sounds had gone on forever, but dream time, Carolyn knew, often bore no relation to real time. Perhaps it had been only a few seconds.

“Do you think the fish was spoiled?” Carolyn had never acquired a taste for fish and had refused last night’s main course.

Helen shook her head, then wiped her face and turned to Carolyn. “I’m not sick,” she said with a weak smile. Though she was pale, her brown eyes sparkled with what looked like happiness. “Promise you won’t tell anyone.”

Carolyn nodded, remembering how, less than a day earlier, she had extracted the same promise from Dwight. Whatever secret Helen wanted her to keep, she suspected it was more important than an imaginary grandmother.

Helen reached for the pitcher they filled each evening and poured herself a glass of water. When she’d taken a sip, the smile she gave Carolyn was radiant. “I’m pregnant,” she announced.

Pregnant! No wonder Helen had been sick so many mornings. Carolyn had attributed that and Helen’s complaints of fatigue to the schedule they both kept. But Helen’s malady wasn’t a malady at all. Instead, it was a reason for celebration. In the midst of this horrible war, a new life had begun.

“That’s wonderful!” Carolyn hugged her friend, then studied her with new eyes. Helen was to be a mother. How exciting! “You must be thrilled.”

“I am.” Helen smiled again as she cranked the shutters open. The pale light of another rainy dawn brightened the room only slightly. “The one thing I’m sorry about is that I won’t be able to stay here much longer. Miss Pierce will send me home as soon as she knows.”

Carolyn didn’t doubt it. The head nurse was not one to bend rules without a direct order. “She’ll find out eventually.”

“I know that.” Helen looked down at her still slim figure, and Carolyn suspected she was imagining the inevitable changes. “All I want to do is postpone it as long as possible. Somehow, I need to hide the morning sickness from her.”

Carolyn nodded and suggested that she could take Helen’s early morning shift. “I’ll do whatever I can for you.” Carolyn hugged her friend again. “This is so exciting!” Though nothing short of a truce would end the horrible injuries and death they dealt with every day, it was wonderful to know that the circle of life continued.

“It feels like a miracle,” Helen admitted. She sank onto the room’s one chair, as if the effort of opening the shutters had tired her.

“What does Glen think?” Carolyn asked, referring to Helen’s husband. She knew they’d been married for three years and that one of the reasons Helen had volunteered to come to France was that her husband was stationed on the Western Front. The baby must have been the result of a brief leave that they’d managed to share the week before Carolyn had come to the hospital.

Helen had told Carolyn that they had rendezvoused in Paris and that the French capital was as beautiful as she had dreamed, even though the mood was even grimmer there than in Goudot, as the Parisians feared an enemy occupation. The journey, too, had been fraught with difficulties. Though Paris was only one hundred kilometers from Goudot as the crow flies, Helen had explained that there were neither crow flights available nor any direct routes, and so the sixty-six miles had become close to one hundred. “But it was worth it!” she had declared. Now that visit must seem even more wonderful.

“Is Glen as excited as you?”

To Carolyn’s surprise, a shadow crossed Helen’s face. “I haven’t told him.” As Carolyn raised an eyebrow, Helen continued, “We had two false starts, so I want to be sure before I tell him.” She smiled at Carolyn. “You’re the only one who knows.”

A lump formed in Carolyn’s throat at the thought that this woman who’d been a stranger a month before now trusted her with such an important secret. “Thank you, Helen. I promise I won’t betray your confidence.”

Helen reached forward and laid a hand on Carolyn’s arm. “I know you won’t. You’re the most loyal person I’ve ever met.”

Though she couldn’t have explained why, Helen’s words transported Carolyn back to Canela, and she pictured Ed’s face the day she’d agreed to marry him. He had been happier than she’d ever seen him. And she? Carolyn couldn’t remember how she had felt other than the pleasure of knowing that she could help Ed. It was not unlike what she felt today, knowing she could help Helen. How odd. Was
loyalty
what she felt for Ed?

“You’re late, Carolyn.” Dwight stood next to the operating table, his hazel eyes cold with anger. “You’re late,” he repeated.

She knew she was, but she couldn’t regret it, not under the circumstances. If she had her way, this particular operation would be delayed even more. Today, for the first time since she had come to Goudot, so many injured men had been brought to the hospital that they had overflowed the wards and were lined up in the hallways. Carolyn glanced at the three men who were waiting for surgery and flashed them her most brilliant smile, hoping they’d understand what she was about to do. Though their faces were lined with pain and worry, the patients managed to return her smile. Dwight, however, did not smile. The steely look he gave her was as disapproving as his words.

“Sorry, Doctor,” she said as she approached him. Keeping her tone light, she said, “I know I’m late, but I had to dance with one of my beaux.” If only that were true!

The patients chuckled. The doctor did not. “That is not amusing. Now, if you can take time away from your dancing schedule to assist me …” He gestured toward the instrument tray.

She had to make him understand, and she had to do it quickly. “Actually, Doctor Hollins, I thought perhaps I could convince you to waltz with me.”

His frown deepened. “Have you taken leave of your senses?” he demanded.

“I don’t believe so.” She twirled as if she were ending a dance, then looked pointedly at the door. He had to understand.

“May I have a word with you?” His annoyance was growing.

“Yes, sir. Perhaps in the hallway.” Without giving him a chance to respond, she left the operating theater. A second later Dwight was next to her, his face suffused with anger.

“Will you kindly explain what that charade was all about?” Though his fury was palpable, Dwight kept his voice low so that the waiting men would not overhear him.

There was no time for explanations. Carolyn grabbed Dwight’s hand and began to hurry along the corridor, nodding at the men whose stretchers lined one side. They had been arranged in order of the severity of their wounds. Though Dwight tried to protest, she would not loosen her grip. “There’s a man who can’t wait,” she said as softly as she could.

“Are you questioning our triage?” he demanded.

“No, Doctor, I’m not. I think this man’s injury was not apparent when he was brought in.” They had reached the tenth stretcher. Though the other patients were all conscious, this man was not. He was unnaturally pale, and his skin was cold and clammy.

Dwight reached for the man’s hand, checking his pulse. “He’s in shock.” The words confirmed Carolyn’s fears. Two orderlies were tending to patients at the end of the corridor. “Get this man into the theater now!” Dwight shouted. As he and Carolyn hurried back into the operating room, the frown had disappeared. “That was good thinking, Carolyn,” he said, his voice once more warm with approval. “What I don’t understand is why you didn’t just tell me what was wrong.”

That was simple. Carolyn had seen what fear did to people, how it could lower defenses that were already dangerously low because of wounds. “It would have upset the men who were waiting for you. They’ll know there’s a problem when they see the new patient brought in, but at least you’ll be there to reassure them.” If she and Dwight had left without an explanation—even one as silly as his need to reprimand her for her frivolity—the men would have imagined disasters far worse than the truth.

Twelve hours later, Carolyn and Dwight entered the ward to check on the patients who had been in surgery that morning. Though it had been an arduous day, they had been lucky and had lost no patients. Dwight had discovered that the man who had been in shock had internal bleeding, and he had been able to stop it in time. Equally encouraging, though they had been forced to perform several of the amputations they both hated, they had all been successful.