Aiding the Enemy (War Girls) (2 page)

For a moment the officer made no reply, then he chuckled. “Excellent. Exactly the response I would expect a doctor to make.”

“What other response is there?”

“The soldier’s, of course. You are both a doctor and an officer in the German Army.”

“My value as a doctor far outweighs my value as a soldier. My aim is extremely poor.”

The officer laughed. “Touché, Doctor.” His laughter died after a moment. “But remember, your duties as a soldier may take precedence. You are in a position to see many things that are not as they should be.” Paper rustled. “Some news from your uncle. Good night.”

There was a long minute of silence.

“Goddamn them to hell.” Dr. Geoff’s voice vibrated with what she could only assume was rage. “Goddamn them
all
to hell.”

Bad news then.

Rose recapped the vent and checked on her patient. His condition was unchanged. She straightened his bedding, squared her shoulders and moved to the next room to check on the four men who rested there.

They were asleep, as comfortable as could be expected with their varying injuries. She carried on to the next room and its occupants, and the next.

Dr. Geoff was in the hall outside the last room of patients. “I have to leave for several hours, Rose,” he said with no preamble. “My brother has been wounded and requires surgery.”

“Are you bringing him here?”

“No, I’ll perform the surgery at the house. Not sure when I’ll be back.”

“I’m coming with you.”

He turned away like always did when his decision was made. “That’s not necessary.”

She lifted her chin and followed him. “I’m coming with you. You’re tired and performing surgery on a family member is not easy.”

His face didn’t change, didn’t soften. She had to reach him somehow, had to convince him to let her help him.

She put a hand on his shoulder. “Please. You’ve done so much for me, for this hospital. I want to do this for you.”

His mouth twitched. He was going to say yes. “You’re needed here,” he said instead.

“Our nurses are well trained to take care of our patients. They can work without us both for a few hours.”

He looked at her hand on his shoulder.

She squeezed then released him. “I can gather the necessary surgical supplies and be ready in just a few minutes.”

He sighed. “I should refuse, but damn it, you’re right. I’m going to need your steady hands and head.”

Most women wouldn’t think that much of a compliment, but those words meant the world to her. “Meet you at the front door?”

He nodded. “I’ll let the staff know where we’re going.”

She hurried into the surgical room and began packing a bag with tools, bandages and ether. She changed her apron again, and pulled a cloak on over top of it. A quick stop at the kitchen...
The British soldier in the shed
.

Rose ran down the stairs. No one was in the kitchen, but she could hear Dr. Geoff talking to the staff in another room. She grabbed some bread and a jar of water and went outside. The yard was deserted, so she went into the small building.

She cleared her throat and whispered, “I have to go out, but I brought some bread and water. I’ll try to get you on your way tomorrow.”

There was a rustle of cloth then a soft voice said, “Thank you.”

She went back into the hospital and found Dr. Geoff waiting for her at the front door. “Ready?”

With a British soldier in hiding, a suspicious orderly who came and went, and a doctor who’d just told her there were no honourable men left in world, ready was the last thing she felt.

“Yes.”

Chapter Two

Herman wanted to strangle someone. Preferably an officer. One of the men responsible for assigning his brother to fight at the front would be better. Ironic, given that he was an officer himself in an army he’d once admired and now wished to the lowest level of hell.

Goddamn bastards had no reason to conscript a boy of his brother’s talents into the infantry. He was a musician, not a soldier. A
pianist
.

Once inside the waiting coach, Herman fumed silently and watched Rose stare at the street. The driver clicked his tongue at the horses and they were off.

“It’s so dark,” she said.

“It’s past curfew. Only those with permission are allowed out at this hour.”

“Yes, of course.” She glanced at him then examined her folded hands as if they were the most interesting things she’d ever seen.

“Did you see the city before the war?”

She looked up. “Oh, yes. I started working at the hospital some time before the war. Had you visited before?”

“No. Was it very different?”

“In some ways, yes. There was more activity, more conversation and children playing outside. In other ways, not really. Belgians are a very calm people. Pragmatic you might say.”

“Unlike the British.”

A small smile came and went across her face. “The British are eminently practical.”

“But also stubborn and oppressive.”

She tilted her head to one side. “Is that what you believe?”

“It’s what I’ve witnessed. England has demonstrated time and again that they wish to rule the world. Their policy of blockading anyone who opposes their ambition is well documented. The German people work hard to prosper. It’s not acceptable for a foreign power, who isn’t even a close neighbour, to interfere with another sovereign nation’s interests.”

“I can’t speak for my country or the politics of this war.” She sighed. “I can only do what I can to help those who come into my care. Nationality makes no difference to me. I will help all.”

“I admire your dedication to your craft and your devotion to your calling, but not all of us can be so benevolent with our service. Though I despise war and all its results, I will not betray my home.”

“No one is asking you to,” she said in a gentle tone. “No one would ever ask you to betray your conscience. Anyone who does isn’t worthy of your trust.”

“Have you been asked to betray your conscience?”

“Yes.”

“Did you?”

“No.”

“So...you’ve been threatened in the past.”

It was a statement not a question, but she answered it anyway. “Yes.”

“And yet you remain here, treating what your countrymen would call the enemy.”

“No man is my enemy.”

Herman leaned forward. “Even those who would prosecute you?”

“Even those. How could I be a nurse otherwise?”

Amazement had him shaking his head. “You are a remarkable woman, Rose.”

“I am just a woman, Doctor. No more, no less.”

The coach came to a stop outside the large residence his family had taken as their home in Brussels. His uncle, as a high-ranking officer, had chosen a home formerly owned by a member of the Belgian royal family. Herman himself stayed here when not sleeping on his cot at the hospital.

The letter he’d been given was from his uncle. It stated that Rodney had been sent there to recover from wounds sustained in battle, but he wasn’t healing well.

Herman exited the coach then helped Rose out. They were met at the door by the butler.

“He’s in the first room upstairs, sir.”

“How is he, Jesper?”

“Not well, sir. Cook believes he has an infection.”

He took the stairs two at a time and found his brother being tended by the household’s cook, Nan.

She stood as he entered the room and curtsied. “Sir, it’s his hands.”

Herman stared at the bandages covering his brother’s hands. The white fabric was broken by red spots of varying shades and size.

Rose stepped close enough that he could smell her perfume over the decay. A light flowery scent that gave him a moment’s rest, but only a moment.

“I can smell the infection,” she whispered.

“Yes.”

He removed his coat. “Nan, can you bring us a basin and some alcohol? Whatever we have.”

“Of course, sir.” The cook rushed off.

Rose opened her bag and set out a packet of medical instruments, bandages and a bottle of ether. She handed him a pair of scissors. “Ether?”

“Not yet.”

Herman cut away the first layer of bandages. Then the second.

In the meantime, Nan returned with the basin and a bottle of brandy. Rose poured the liquid into the basin and added the instruments to it.

Rodney watched them with eyes that barely moved. Sweat covered his brow and neck. “Don’t bother,” he whispered. “If I can’t use my hands, I’d rather not live.”

“Ridiculous,” Herman said as he attacked the final layer of bandages.

“They’re useless.”

“Don’t talk if that’s all you have to say.”

“Herman, please. Stop. I don’t want you to fix what’s left of them.”

He stopped to gaze into pain-filled eyes. “Your hands don’t define you.”

“But they do. They do. Without them, I’m nothing. I have no voice, no song, no soul.”

The last of the bandages fell away, and Herman had to work harder than ever in his life to keep his face from revealing the horror before him.

Three fingers were missing from his brother’s left hand, leaving only his thumb and index finger. All the fingers remained on his right hand, but they were curled up, covered in uneven stitches and reeking of gangrene. The black infection extended past his wrist.

“I told you not to bother.” Rodney even had a smile on his face, as if he were about to get the one thing he wanted most in the world.

“How long have you known?”

“I don’t know. A day?”

“You want to die that badly?” Herman wanted to shake him, to yell and scream and demand he fight for what was left of his life. But it would do no good. He recognized the expression on Rodney’s face. He’d seen it before in other men close enough to death to see the glory of heaven waiting for them.

“Wouldn’t you? If you couldn’t operate any more, if you couldn’t do even the most simple tasks for yourself, wouldn’t you?”

Herman’s voice broke as he tried his last argument. “I could still teach. I could still share what I know with others. Damn it, don’t give up like this.”

“You’re a better man than I am. You’re a healer. I’m an artist. An artist who can no longer practice his art or create is nothing.”

“Amputation?” Rose asked, her steady voice the only stable thing in the whole room.

“No choice.” He called out for Nan. When she appeared in the doorway, he said, “Bring more brandy.”

“Don’t choose this,” Rodney pleaded. “Please don’t.”

Herman set his jaw and met his brother’s gaze. “Your life is worth something, whether you believe it or not.”

Tears rolled down Rodney’s face. “Damn you and your duty.”

“Yes, I am damned. But I’m going to save you anyway.” Herman leaned closer and let the determination out from behind the polite façade he normally showed the world. “
I
will
.”

His brother sighed, closed his eyes, turned away and said nothing more.

“The act of creation is performed by more than a person’s hands,” Rose said softly. “I cannot play a note, sing, draw or write, yet I find ways to bring comfort and joy into my work. Your gift doesn’t define you, you define your gift.”

If anyone could get through to his brother, it would be her. “Rodney, this is Rose Culver.”

His brother turned his head slowly and looked at Rose as if he’d never noticed her before. “You’re Herman’s Rose?”

She cleared her throat. “Am I?”

“He talked about you in his letters. He said you are an angel, dispensing hope and healing where ever you go.”

“He has a fever,” Herman said. “And he’s rambling.”

“Please.” Rodney tried to sit up. “Let me join you in heaven.”

“He’s hallucinating,” Rose said, trying to urge him to lie down. He was having none of it. It took both of them to keep Rodney in the bed.

“Let me die.” He started to thrash about.

Rose grabbed a cloth and poured a few drops of ether onto it. She held it over Rodney’s face until he subsided into unconsciousness.

“He’s deeply distressed,” she said as they straightened his body with his hands over his chest. “He might try something drastic when he wakes up.”

“Jesper and Nan will keep watch on him.”

“Could the infection be in his blood?”

“I don’t know. If we don’t amputate that hand soon, it will kill him.”

“Sir, perhaps another surgeon would be wise.” She gazed at him with kind, knowing eyes.

“If there were another surgeon available I might be tempted, but there isn’t.” He watched her mouth tighten. “Thank you for your concern, but I’ll be fine.”

She put her hand on his arm and leaned close. “This is your brother and I, at the very least, am your friend,” she whispered with none of her trademark quiet reserve. “When all of this ugliness catches up with you—and it will—promise me you’ll come to me.”

He stared at the woman not six inches from his face with a dawning sense of wonder. “You’re not really an angel are you, Rose? You’re a valkyrie. A warrior goddess.”

Her smile was intimate. “And you are much more fanciful than I thought.”

For a moment he allowed himself to be warmed by the surprise of her, by the notion that she would insist he come to her with his sore heart and bruised feelings. He’d known all along that she was strong and resilient, but not how hard she would fight for what she believed in or the people she cared for.

Nan came rushing into the room, out of breath and clutching another bottle of brandy.

Herman straightened and nodded at Rose. “Time to work.”

* * *

Rose rinsed the last of the surgical instruments she’d brought, dried them and put them back into her bag.

Dr. Geoff sat in an armchair in the corner of the room, staring at his brother’s unconscious form.

Clean bandages covered Rodney’s left hand, the one unaffected by infection. It had taken little time to clean and disinfect the wounds left from the previous surgery that removed three of his fingers. His right arm, however, ended at his elbow. The gangrene had taken the entire hand and part of his forearm. Dr. Geoff had elected to amputate.

Now he sat brooding and drinking directly from the last bottle of brandy.

“Sir, are you staying?”

“Eh? Staying?” He glanced at her then at his brother. “No, I suppose we should go back to the hospital before more wounded come in. Someone needs to watch him, though.”

“Nan and Jesper can do it. You’ve already told them what to do.”

He snorted, stood and waved at her to go out the door.

Rose turned to Nan, who stood out of the way, waiting for further instructions. “Send a message if his fever should worsen or continue for more than a day. Tie him down if you have to, but don’t let him damage himself.”

“We’ll take good care of him, ma’am.”

The doctor stopped in the doorway, took one last look at his brother and then continued down the stairs.

Rose followed, collecting her cloak from Jesper before joining Dr. Geoff in the coach. He still had the bottle of brandy.

“Does getting drunk help?”

“Not really.”

“Then why do it?”

“It lets me pretend nothing’s wrong for a little while.” He leaned forward and braced his elbows on his knees. “It allows me to believe, for an hour or two, that no matter how badly I’ve disfigured my brother, it was the right decision.”

She frowned. “It
was
the right decision.”

“I doubt Rodney will ever forgive me for it.” He took another swig of brandy. “I wouldn’t blame him if he doesn’t.”

“You’re not responsible for his anger or fear, that’s up to him to face. You saved his life. You’ve given him another chance at sharing the gifts God gave him with the world.”

Dr. Geoff narrowed his eyes at her. “Does nothing scare you? Make you feel low?”

“Many things. I chose to ignore them when I can.”

“And when you can’t?”

“I pray.”

“Bloody valkyrie,” he muttered. “Do you ever wish you had someone to hold you in the dark hours of the night?”

She looked away, unable to maintain eye contact while answering such an intimate question, and found herself breathless. “Sometimes.”

“Who?” His voice sounded like a growl and her gaze flew back to his in surprise.

She opened her mouth, to give what answer she didn’t know, but the coach jerked to a stop and she snapped her jaw shut.

The door opened, but neither she nor Dr. Geoff moved. Finally, she got up and out, walking as calmly as she could to the hospital’s front door.

Thank God they’d arrived when they did, because there was only one answer she could have given.
Him
.

She could hear his footfalls as he followed.

“You’re not going to give me his name, are you?”

His question froze her for two long seconds, then she turned to face him. “He is only a dream. One I sometimes wish I could forget.”

She left him standing in the entry with a frown on his face.

Rose entered her office and hung up her cloak. Taking a deep breath, she sat down behind her desk. There was business to take care of that couldn’t wait another minute. The deepest drawer had a false back. She pulled out a slim packet of paper and poked her nose out the door. No one was about, so she headed for the kitchen, watching for anyone still up who might see her.

Though it was a moonless night, she managed to make her way to the shed without tripping. “Hello?”

“Ma’am?” Her Lincoln soldier.

“You need to leave as soon as possible. It’s not safe here.” She pulled a map out of her pocket and handed it to him along with all the money she had. “This will guide you out of the city and to the Netherlands. Safe areas to cross the border are marked. Travel at night and through fields. Stay away from the roads. Are there are few apples left in those barrels?”