The thought of an evening out followed by a whole day off at least brought a bit of solace.

  Have a good time, she told herself. Enjoy the play then contemplate the future tomorrow. But how could she ever come to a final decision without asking him the two things she really wanted to know?

  Would the wrong answers turn her heart away from him?

  Ninny! She would care about him no matter what! It played more around letting the relationship with her doctor bloom. Would she, if she knew the truth?

  That was the question.

  If she decided to turn aside from him, could she stand being around him every day? And what about seeing him with another woman?

  Perhaps she should write Clara Barton to see if she might find another hospital. It would be awful though, if she lost the promotion that had come so quickly there at Touro. She loved being a surgical nurse and working beside Jacob. How could she leave?

  Going back to emptying bed pans, changing sheets, and spooning gruel gave her the shudders just thinking about it.

  Not that those chores weren’t in need of being done, she would just rather those nurses who couldn’t suture or administer chloroform handle them. She enjoyed the duties she’d taken on in the last three weeks, meeting those needs.

  Noon came and went, but there’d been an overturned wagon and three men hurt. It wasn’t until half past one that he slipped his hand into hers and headed toward Miss Trudy’s.

  “Did Smith use Lister’s method on that guy’s fractured ankle?”

  “No. He said it was hopeless and amputated the man’s leg below the knee.”

  He applied a bit too much pressure on her hand then balled his other fist.

  “Oh, well. He wasn’t my patient. I cringe at the sight of all the soldiers with missing arms and legs. Lord knows I’ve put hundreds—if not thousands—of them out there myself.”

  “It isn’t your fault.”

  “But if only we’d only known back then what we know now, so many limbs could have been saved. Probably better than half; wouldn’t have so many cripples.”

  “You’re talking about open reduction and internal fixation, right?”

  “Yes, ma’am. That’s exactly right. You’ve been reading the journals.”

  “I have! And I’ve learned so much. They’re amazing.”

  “I’ve brought such things up before in meetings, but so far, no one’s willing to try it. A shame they didn’t give me that man. I would have tried.”

  “If it didn’t work, would he have died?”

  “Not necessarily. He might’ve lost an extra inch or two of his leg, but I wouldn’t have allowed gangrene to set in before I amputated. It would offer the patient a chance though.”

  She squeezed his hand then brought it up to her lips and faced him.

  “One fine day, you’ll be a house surgeon at Touro or some other hospital, or even have your own practice. Then we can do things the way we want.”

  His mood brightened. Had she given him false hope?

  Why had she kissed his hand, for Heaven’s sake? Then said ‘we’ as though they were already the team she’d dreamed of?

  The conversation turned from medicine to the evening’s timeline.

  “I’ll be back here at five-thirty. Is that enough time?”

  “Oh, yes. I’ll be ready.”

  “I’ve arranged for a carriage and have reservations at the restaurant right across from the Orleans Theater.”

  “Excellent. I’m so looking forward to it. I’ve heard so many good comments about the play.”

  “I have, too, but made myself not learn much about it past what the critics saying the price of admission proved a deal. Some mentioned it would be worth it at double the price.”

  “So, am I safe in assuming you don’t want to know anything about Snorkey or Lura or her sister?”

  “That’d be correct.” He chuckled. “And thank you for not spoiling it.”

  Laughter truly worked better than the best medicine. At the door, he returned the kiss she’d given his hand but didn’t linger. Instead, he grinned big, winked, then backed down the steps. “I’ll see you at 5:30 then.”

  He didn’t turn around until she opened the front door, as if too much a gentleman to leave her unattended on the porch. Mama would surely like him even though he was twice her age.

  Having to work late cut her soak short, but she still found enough time to wash and dry her hair and be ready a full thirty minutes before time.

  Then she decided to try on another dress and pin her hair up. Even with the last-minute changes, she flitted downstairs when he knocked the front door’s clapper.

  With one last look in the hall tree’s mirror and primping her hair, she opened the door.

  “Wow. You look fabulous.” He stepped inside with one hand behind his back, like he was hiding something.

  “Thank you, kind sir. I like your suit; is it new?”

  “Yes, it is. Mis’ess Banks picked it out for me. I’m glad you like it.” He brought out his hand to the front, holding a rose bud. “May I pin this on your dress?”

  “Oh, how sweet. It’s beautiful. Of course, you may.”

  He stepped close, maybe closer than he’d ever been before and attached the flower to her lapel then moved back and held out a small box. “This is for you, too.”

  “Oh, Jacob! You shouldn’t have.” She took his offering and opened the case, revealing intertwined twin hearts with a diamond in the center of each. She gasped. “It’s . . . it’s beautiful. I love it, but it’s too much.”

  “Nonsense.” He held out his other hand. “This goes with it.” He splayed his fingers and a gold necklace dropped. “May I?”

  She handed over the hearts. He ran the delicate chain through their attached loop then fastened it around her neck, encircling her but obviously being careful.

  “Here, let me turn around.” He stepped even closer.

  His chest touched her shoulders as he draped the chain and pendant around her neck then fiddled with the clasp.

  “There. Turn back now and let me see.”

  She did, adjusting it as she twirled. She stopped and held her hands out to her side. “What do you think?”

  “Fantastic.” He looked right at her. “Except the necklace doesn’t do you justice.”

  Reaching out, she pushed him back. “You’re so silly. I’d love to be only half as pretty as my new treasure. Thank you so much, Jacob. I love it, but you shouldn’t have.”

  “I don’t wish to argue, but you, my dear, are wrong.” He held his elbow out, and she looped her hand under and over it.

  Was he showing his lying self? She took his arm then touched her necklace. Such a gift! And after only knowing her one month. What would he be like in a year?

  Smitten, or was she only his latest nurse to conquer? Would he grow tired of her as he had Nancy?

  Did he really think she was prettier than her fabulous necklace?

  If she wasn’t such a scaredy cat, she would put her cards on the barrelhead and ask him what she wanted to know. If only she could decide if his past really mattered.

  His wife certainly wasn’t coming back, and what he told Nancy didn’t matter. All melted butter.

  At the carriage, he helped her up then climbed in himself. She’d stopped in the middle then scooted in tight next to him and held her hand out. He took it.

  “What a surprise.” She squeezed. “Thank you again for my rose and necklace. I love them both.”

  “You’re welcome.”

  The carriage turned onto Orleans Street, and the theater with it simple but massive columns came into view. She loved it, especially with its promise of a great evening. A few folks stood in line at the ticket booth. Facing Jacob, she grinned.

  “You’ve already got our tickets, right?”

  “Yes, ma’am.” He patted his coat’s breast pocket.

  On the opposite side of the street from the theater, the carriage stopped. He hurried out on his side, helped her down, then led her toward the Empress of China’s front door.

  “This place has great soups; I prefer egg drop, but the wonton is really good, too.”

  “I’m glad I’m here with you because I’ve never eaten Chinese food before.”

  “Really?” He smiled “You’re in for a treat.”

  Though she copiously scanned the menu, she hadn’t a clue of what she might like to order. She handed hers to him. “I’ll have whatever you’re having.”

  With one of his cockeyed grins, he nodded and called the waiter over.

  He ordered several things: two egg drop soups and two egg rolls—the Chinese must love eggs—and the only other dish she could repeat, sweet and sour chicken. She couldn’t figure out how that would work, but it didn’t matter.

  Her fingertips searched her neck for her new necklace.

  Food wasn’t important. He’d already given her the best gift ever.

  It seemed smitten had flown the coup, giving way to full-blown love for him to splurge on her like that. With all told, he must have spent more than what she made in a month already.

  No telling what the meal and play’s tickets cost. Had he gotten balcony seats?

  Slimy is what she’d call his egg drop soup. After her second compulsory bite, he offered to finish it if she wanted, and she gladly slid the little bowl his way. Tabasco might have helped.

  Calling the waiter back, he ordered her a bowl of the wonton soup. She loved it and all the other dishes he’d chosen, especially the sweet walnut chicken. It could’ve been dessert!

  With plenty of time to spare, he paid the bill and escorted her to the curb. Instead of taking the first opportunity to make it over to the theater, he stood staring.

  She followed his gaze to a poor one-legged man walking past each of the huge columns in front of The Orleans. The fellow walked on in the opposite direction, making good time using crutches.

  It seemed he’d been doing it for years. Why had he caught Jacob’s eye?

  Squeezing his hand, she cuddled in a little to his arm. “Shouldn’t we be going?”

  “Oh.” He looked at her and nodded. “Yes. Of course.”

  Though his hat shadowed his face, she noted a profound sadness in his eyes.

  “Jacob? Did you know that man?”

  A sigh escaped. “Couldn’t see his face, but there were so many whose legs and arms I amputated. Butchery! That’s what it was, but . . . In the field . . . there was little else to do. He could have been one of my patients.”

  “You may have crippled him.” She bumped her shoulder against his. “But he’s alive, Jacob. If he was a patient, I have no doubt that you saved his life by doing it. You certainly didn’t start that horrible war.”

  “I hated it.”

  “And that man’s lost limb and all those who died or were wounded—the blame for all those men lies at the feet of the ones who did! Not you.”

  “How dear you are.” He smiled and nodded, patting her hand on his arm. “And you’re right. I only did what I had to do at the time to save their lives.”

  “Yes indeed, you did save their lives! So think about it that way every time you see a man missing a limb. You saved him; you did what you had to do, and he’s alive.”

  “You always know exactly what to say. I need to keep you around.”

  “Do you think so?” She grinned and hugged his arm.

  “Indeed. Remind me of that whenever I start feeling blue, won’t you?”

  “Of course.”

  He looked both ways; she followed his gaze. The street was clear.

  “Come on.”

  Wow! Front row in the balcony! He’d bought two of the best seats in the theater. What had that cost? Had he ever brought Nancy? Or how ever many other girls had been in his life? How many were there?

  Easing down next to her, he handed her a playbill then went to studying his own.

  “Thank you, Jacob. I’ve always wondered what the view from up here would be like. Now, I’ll know.”

  “You’re welcome, of course. I’ve actually wondered the same thing myself.”

  “Oh. So, this is your first time up here, too?”

  “Yes, ma’am.”

  She liked that; that he’d gone out of his way to make the night special. Though not totally like Cinderella at the ball, she surely was close.

  Except she knew him, and he knew who she was as well. But also, there was so much more about his life she didn’t know, wanted to know. Questions about his past . . .

  But why would it matter? People couldn’t change their pasts.

  Who didn’t have things they’d change about their days gone by if they could?

  “Jacob?”

  “Yes?” He stopped reading and looked at her.

  Taking a deep breath, she bolstered her resolve. Why she was being such a ninny, she could never know!

  “What is it, Lydia?”

  In her pause, the orchestra came alive. Ushers snuffed the lights, starting in the back, and the curtain opened. She grabbed his hand and leaned in. “Nothing important. We can talk about it later.”

  Every minute of the play enthralled her. The applause died down, and the actors took their last bows then slipped away between the split in the curtains. Wow, how wonderful.

  “If it’s all right with you, can we just sit here while the crowd dissipates?”

  “Of course. That’s a good idea.”

  The ushers relighted the stage lamps, this time starting in the front of the theater. She glanced over at him; his face betrayed no emotions. He seemed to have liked the play, laughed with her and everyone else.

  Had Snorkey being a one-armed vet ruined it for him or diminished it in some way?

  Had all the amputations during the war affected him so badly? Exactly what did he think every time he came into contact with a man missing a limb?

  Could he really believe he was at fault for their handicap? Just one more thing she wanted to talk with him about. Would he open up?

  Was he at that point in the relationship where all secrets should be thrown into the light of truth?

  What would he think about her being smitten—to use his word—with those two soldiers she’d met in the field with Lee’s Army, back when she, her mother, and aunt served the wounded?

  Or how much she’d wept over each being killed?

  Was that why she was reluctant in giving her heart to him?

  Watching the people leaving and ushers doing their jobs, she pondered. Would he think less of her if he knew she’d stolen Cynthia Cramer’s blue ribbon that time at church? She was only five then, and she wasn’t a thief . . .

  One thing she’d certainly change about her past if given the opportunity.

  She sure hated having to give it back.

  What would he think about her snipping an end off of it with her mother’s scissors before returning it the following Sunday? Was that little piece of blue silk still hidden beneath the loose floorboard of her old house?

  “I think we can leave now.” He stood and extended his hand.

  Taking it, she let him help her up, then hung on and snuggled in tight to his arm.

  Once outside, instead of hailing a hack, he led her toward the adjacent Orleans Ballroom. “I’m not ready for this evening to end. Would you care to dance?”

  “Oh, I’d love that!” She loved the entire evening. Perhaps she was Cinderella after all. “And neither am I. If it could go on forever, I couldn’t enjoy it more. It’s been . . . simply lovely, the best!”

  “I’m happy you’ve enjoyed yourself.” He found a table close to the dance floor then ordered two coffees before holding out his hand. “May I have this dance?”

  Oh, how she adored him squiring her around the dance floor! What a perfect night! If only it didn’t have to end. Three waltzes then, as if the orchestra knew she needed a break, they announced a short intermission.

  The waiter must have been watching. He brought the coffee a minute after Jacob held her seat for her.

  “What were you going to ask me right before the play started?”

  Oh. He remembered. She shook her head. Although she still wanted to know, she wasn’t about to bring up anything that even had the remotest chance of spoiling the evening.

  Quizzing him about his past could just wait. She gave him a big smile.

  “It was nothing. Forget I said anything at all.”

  Looking deep into her eyes, he stared for several too quiet seconds.

  She had lied.

  Could he see it?

  “Lydia . . .”

  “Yes?”

  “I have something I want to ask you, but first, there’s something I want you to know.”

  “What is it, Jacob?”

  “Well, that first time we met in my office, when you said you didn’t drink hard liquor, I, uh . . . took that to heart. I want to confess that before I met you, I routinely drank every day.”

  “But just a little? One glass?”

  “No, more than I should. Too much and too often. When my melancholy turned black, I’d even inject myself with morphine, trying to ease the pain.” He leaned back, still gazing into her eyes.

  Run! That was her first thought, but her heart kept her hind parts planted to the seat and her feet to the floor.

  “I started praying for you that every night.”

  “You did?”

  He shook his head slightly. “You’re so amazing.” He reached for her hand. “It’s worked. I haven’t used the needle even once, and I only drank enough to get drunk once.”

  “You did?”

  “A week ago. I told myself that I needed it to sleep, but it didn’t help. I was so excited over our night out. That first time you offered your hand palm down . . . It thrilled me.”

  “Oh. Nancy mentioned that she’d smelled whiskey on your breath the next morning.”

  “I see. And what else did she tell you?”

  “That once upon a time, you and she would get drunk every night you were together and cry on each other’s shoulder.”

  He nodded. “Did she tell about us almost getting married?”

  “Yes, she mentioned that.” She leaned forward, staring into his eyes. He’d brought it up, so she might as well find out, quench the curiosity. She cleared her throat. “Jacob, did you ever tell her that . . . you loved her?”

 

1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10