Hope at Dawn (28 page)

July 1918

Y
ou’ve become skin and bones since you came here, Evelyn. And no wonder; you eat like a bird.” Alice Thornton waved her fork at the half-empty plate Evelyn had slid aside. “If my mother were here, she’d try to fatten you up. Unlike the hospital cook, apparently.”

Evelyn smiled, despite the queasiness in her stomach. She could imagine Mrs. Thornton—a more rotund, matronly version of red-headed Alice—chasing her down with a ladle of stew in hand. Alice talked a lot about her family, particularly her three beanpole brothers who never put on pounds no matter how much they ate, much to their mother’s chagrin.

That wasn’t Evelyn’s problem. The morning sickness that plagued her, even now in the middle of the day, prevented her from stomaching much of any meal. But she certainly didn’t plan on telling Alice that.

Almost of its own volition, her hand rose to rest against the middle of her white nurse’s apron. The tiny life inside her could only be ten weeks along by now, but her own life had been altered just the same. Would anyone else notice her lack of appetite, as Alice had, or her frequent trips to the bathroom?

Alice turned to talk with another nurse seated near them, giving Evelyn a moment to herself. She slipped her hand beneath her apron, into the pocket of her gray jersey dress and felt the letter tucked there. It brought instant calm as she withdrew the folded slip of paper. Though the letter had arrived less than a week ago, she had Ralph’s words memorized. Still, she liked to see the bold strokes of his handwriting and read the reassurance in the words he’d penned.

“Did we get mail today?”

Alice’s voice broke into Evelyn’s reverie. Startled, she glanced up in confusion. “Mail?”

Her roommate pointed to Evelyn’s letter.

“Oh, I don’t know. This is from last week.” Evelyn quickly folded Ralph’s letter and shoved it into her pocket, away from Alice’s curious gaze.

“Is it from your grandparents?”

Evelyn wanted to answer in the affirmative, but she wouldn’t lie. She hadn’t heard from either her grandmother or grandfather in several months. Their declining health made returning Evelyn’s upbeat missives difficult. She hadn’t yet broached the subject of the baby in her letters, out of shame and guilt. But she likely wouldn’t have to. As Ralph had said, she’d be sent home once they married, but at least, she’d have a husband. She wouldn’t have to return to the farm unwed and pregnant with an illegitimate child. What would that shock do to her grandparents?

“Better hurry up,” Evelyn said, avoiding Alice’s question altogether. She stood and picked up her plate. “I heard Sister Marcelle is doing a round of ward visits today or tomorrow.”

Alice frowned and scrambled up from the table. “In that case, I’ll skip the rest. Sister Henriette is likely to tell her that I yelled at Sergeant Dennis, good and long this morning. But honestly, the man refuses to believe he should rest. These doughboys think they can be shot up one day and return to the front the next, good as new.”

The smile hovering at Evelyn’s mouth curved down as she followed Alice to the kitchen. She’d noticed the way Sergeant Dennis watched Alice. The man was clearly captivated by the younger girl and would go to great lengths to garner a response from her—even if it was a good scolding. Evelyn could only hope her roommate remained blind to the man’s attention. Thankfully Alice didn’t seem the type to break the cardinal rule forbidding nurses and soldiers from fraternizing, but then again, Evelyn hadn’t expected to disregard the rule herself. At least not until she’d met Ralph.

A torrent of French greeted them as they set their dishes beside the kitchen’s enormous sink. Evelyn turned to see the cook at the back door, shaking her spoon at a dark-headed youngster.

“S'il vous plaît?”
the boy entreated.

“Non,”
the cook responded.
“Pas de pain.”
She muttered under her breath as she slammed the door in the boy’s disheartened face. Throwing a pointed look at Evelyn and Alice, she returned to her table and began whacking dough with a stick.

“Come on, Evelyn.” Alice retreated back toward the entrance to the large dining hall. None of the twenty nurses at St. Vincent’s liked spending much time in the kitchen with the cantankerous cook.

“I’ll be along in a minute. You go ahead.”

Alice shrugged. The moment her roommate left, Evelyn slipped both their half-nibbled rolls from their plates and discreetly put them into her free pocket. She retraced her steps to the dining hall and let herself out the hospital’s back entrance. A welcoming breeze loosened bits of her hair from underneath her nurse’s cap. Evelyn tucked them back and eyed the sky. Gray clouds overhead promised rain.

Before her, the back lawn of the hospital extended long and wide, bordered by forests of beech and oak trees. The hospital itself had originally been a chateau, rebuilt in the 1860’s and bequeathed to the Sisters of Charity. The living quarters for the hospital staff stood to her left in what had once been the orangery and beyond that sat an ancient stone church.

Out of the corner of her eye, Evelyn caught sight of black hair as the beggar boy rounded the hospital. “Wait!
Attendez
!
” she called out as she jogged after him. “Please, wait.”

He stopped so suddenly Evelyn nearly ran into him. Large black eyes peered up at her from a dirt-smudged face. They looked neither sad nor angry, but resigned and weary, though the boy couldn’t be more than six years old. That wizened look constricted Evelyn’s heart more than the other signs of poverty about him—the cuts on his shins and the disheveled state of his shirt and trousers.

“
Parlez-vous
Anglais
?” she queried. She hoped he spoke English. Her French was still quite rudimentary, despite the months she’d spent in his country as a nurse.

He cocked his head and nodded.

“Wonderful. What’s your name?”

“Loo-ee. Louis Rousseau.”

Evelyn smiled. “
Bonjour
, Louis. I’m Nurse Gray.”

“Got any coffin nails or chocolate?”

She shook her head and bit back a laugh at the familiar term for cigarettes. “You learned English from some soldiers, didn’t you?”

Louis shook his head. “
Ma grand-mère
taught me the English. But
ma
mère
takes our vegetables into the market and sometimes the Americans buy some. She didn’t sell much today. I was trying to beg some
petit de pain
off that
tête de chou
. That cabbage headed cook. But she just say ‘
non, non
.’”

“Tell you what, Louis. I didn’t finish all my bread today and I’d like you to have it.” She removed the rolls, which were slightly squished now, and held them out to him.

His eyes widened as he stared at her, then at the bread.

“Go on. You can have it.”

He took the rolls from her. One he bit into at once, but the other he held carefully in his free hand. “
Ma
mère
can eat this one.
Merci
.”

“You’re welcome.”

A flood of emotion filled her as she watched him lean against the hospital wall to eat his meager meal. He was clearly hungry, but he ate the bread slowly. Perhaps her baby would be a boy—a little dark haired fellow like Louis with an impish glint in his black eyes like Ralph. She could imagine the three of them, and hopefully the other children that would follow, sitting on the porch of her grandparents’ house—
her house
—laughing and sipping lemonade. She would be a part of a family soon, a real family.

“Do you have any brothers or sisters?” she asked Louis, reluctant to return indoors. The heat and smells inside the hospital made her nausea worse.

Louis shook his head. “It’s only me and
ma
mère
.”

“Where’s your father?”

He lowered his gaze to the grass. “He was a solider… but he got killed last year.”

Five years had passed since Evelyn had lost her own father, and she still missed him. Squatting down in front of Louis, she rested her hand on his thin shoulder. “My father died, too.”

“Was he a brave soldier like
ma
père
?”

“No. He was a doctor.”

Louis lifted his chin to look her in the eye. “How’d he die?”

“His heart stopped working one day.”

“Et votre mère?”

And your mother?
Seventeen years without a mother still hadn’t erased the tug on Evelyn’s heart whenever people asked. “My mother died when I was five years old. She’d been sick for a long time.” The word “cancer” settled on her tongue, but she swallowed it back. The boy didn’t need to know and probably wouldn’t understand the whole ugly truth about her mother’s condition.

Louis’ brow furrowed. “Who takes care of you?”

The inquiry was said with so much seriousness that Evelyn didn’t dare laugh. “My grandparents are waiting for me back in America.”

Her answer seemed to satisfy him.

“I’d better go,” he said, wiping his sleeve over his mouth.

Evelyn stood. “So should I. Do you live close by?”

He pointed north and rattled off the French name of his village. It was the one closest to the hospital. “
Au revoir
, Nurse Gray.”

“
Au revoir
, Louis. I hope to see you again soon.”

He grinned, then spun around and darted into the trees. When he disappeared from view, Evelyn headed back to the rear entrance of the hospital. It wouldn’t do to be late to her assigned ward, especially if Sister Marcelle chose today to make her inspection.

Evelyn passed through the empty dining hall. The sound of her footsteps echoed off the high walls and marbled floors as she hurried toward the opposite door. The room that now housed long tables and benches for meals had once been a ballroom. Evelyn liked to fancy herself in a silk dress, dancing here with Ralph who looked very dapper in his army uniform. Perhaps after the wedding, they could find a place to honeymoon for a few days. They could dance or explore. Just like they had two months before when they’d met on leave.

Smiling at the memory, Evelyn climbed the stairs to the wards on the second floor. The stone walls of the old chateau kept the place from being completely miserable now that it was the middle of summer, but still, she felt the air grow warmer as she ascended higher. At the top, she smoothed her apron. She tried to recall from her days assisting her father how early a woman’s belly began expanding when she was pregnant. Four months? Five? Hopefully Ralph would be the first in his regiment to get leave again, so she wouldn’t be showing too much by the time he came for her and they married.

“There you are, Nurse Gray.” Sister Henriette met Evelyn outside the door of the ward. Her face glimmered with sweat beneath her wide, white headdress. It reminded Evelyn of the sailboats she’d seen as a child on Lake Michigan.

“I’m sorry I’m late, Sister. I had a quick errand to do first.”

Sister Henriette waved away her apology. “Sister Marcelle wishes to speak with you.”

“With me?” Something akin to panic wormed its way up Evelyn’s spine, and with it, a new wave of sickness. She hadn’t committed any infractions since transferring to St. Vincent’s six weeks ago. Did that mean Sister Marcelle, the hospital administrator, had discovered her secret?

“You’re not in trouble, child. She only wishes to ask you about a change in assignment.”

Relief made her shoulders droop and relaxed her tight jaw. Evelyn dipped her head in acknowledgement. A new assignment she could handle, though it did seem odd Sister Marcelle wouldn’t simply ask Sister Henriette to pass on the information.

“She is waiting in her office. Just report back to the ward when you are finished.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

She strode down the hallway with new confidence, passing the open doors of the other wards on both sides. The murmur of male voices and occasional laughter floated out to her. After climbing another set of stairs, Evelyn paused outside the worn wooden door of Sister Marcelle’s tiny office. She knocked once and an alto voice called out, “You may enter.”

Stepping inside, Evelyn stood before Sister Marcelle’s large desk. Stacks of papers and ledgers stood in neat piles on one side. The only other furniture in the room was two wooden chairs, one occupied by Sister Marcelle. A large crucifix hung on the wall behind the sister. Just as Evelyn had on her first visit to this office, she avoided looking directly at the cross.

“Ah, Nurse Gray. Thank you for coming.” The sister’s blue-gray eyes, the same color as the dress she wore, shone bright with kindness. Unlike the other sisters, she spoke with nearly no trace of a French accent.

“Sister Henriette said you wished to see me.”

“Yes.” Sister Marcelle motioned to the chair opposite the desk. “Please have a seat.”

Evelyn perched on the edge of the chair.

Sister Marcelle folded her hands and leaned forward. “I will get right to my request. As you know, Sister Pauline is getting up there in age. But we all are, are we not?” Her lips curved into a smile, increasing the laugh lines around her mouth. Evelyn smiled back. She’d heard from some of the other nurses that Sister Pauline, who was in charge of Sister Henriette’s wards at night, mostly just slept. But she couldn’t blame a sixty-year-old woman for dozing during the long, night hours. Lately Evelyn could hardly keep her eyelids from closing at the end of a day shift.

“Sister Monique will be taking over Sister Pauline’s place, but her sister is ill and she has asked for time away from the hospital to tend to her. In the meantime, I would like to propose you supervise Sister Henriette’s wards during the night shift. The other ward nurses will report to you and you will have access to the books and keys. It should only be a few weeks at most, until Sister Monique returns.”