Page 23 of Sands of Sirocco
“I just got the word.They’re sending me back to Blighty.”He looked down at his hands.“And I know I haven’t been the easiest patient.So I wanted to thank you.”
“Save my leg, Sister.”Would he feel that way if he knew she’d taken his leg?
She’d also saved his life.She had to remind herself of facts like that as well.Why was she so hard on herself?“I’m happy for you.I hope home is a comfort to you.”
“They keep telling me I should be happy to go home.”He wrinkled his nose.“I’m going home half a man.And who knows if the home I left even exists anymore?So many have died.”
Their eyes met.It was a sentiment she understood well.She lifted the copy ofThe Odysseyshe had left at his bedside table the night before.“I want you to have this.To remember me.I doubt our paths will cross again.”
He took it from her, focusing on the cover.“Do you think any of it is true?”
“The adventure of Odysseus?”She raised her brows at him.
“No, not that.I’m not the most learned, but I know that’s all fairy tales.”He jerked his chin up.“About his wife, Penelope.Do you think there are women like that?Who wait no matter what?”He stared at his hands.
“Is there supposed to be someone waiting for you?”In the moments she’d spent with him the last few days, they never spoke of that.
“Her name is Mary.I’ve loved her all my life.But who’s going to want a cripple?”
Ginger stared at the book’s spine.“Well, it wasn’t just Penelope who wanted him back.Odysseus wanted to go back to her.And he had challenges to overcome.He had to convince himself to leave a goddess who promised him immortality, to begin with.”She smiled gently.“It was no easy journey he took to get back to her.But even when he failed, he kept trying.”
For the first time since she’d met him, Private Emerson’s eyes filled with tears.He blinked them back and cleared his throat.“Thank you, Sister Whitman.You’ve been a good friend.And don’t let anyone underestimate you.You’re a cut above.”
“It was an honor to have met you, Private.”As she passed the foot of his bed, she stared at his sick card.Together with his health records, made in triplicate and stored in the secretary’s office, the sick card would determine his health history as he traveled.It would condemn him to a life without a pension.All because he hadn’t lost his leg to an enemy the British identified.
Discreetly, she grabbed the sick card and continued on her way.What was one more rule to be broken?She may not always be able to do much to help the people she cared about, but she’d be damned if she didn’t keep trying.Even if she lost the things she’d worked for.
She’d return a new card later that night and find a way to alter those records when the cover of darkness would shield her—records that wouldn’t keep Private Emerson from a pension.
ChapterEight
Noah awoke to the scorching afternoon sun bearing down on him, his head throbbing with a violent headache.He opened his eyes and found himself upside down, his body draped over something hard.His face was pressed up against a leather surface that his disoriented mind couldn’t identify.His mouth tasted of dust, and his body ached.And he was moving.
He startled, jerking his head as he tried to sit.But someone had tied his torso down.And the thumping movement came from a camel beneath him.They had strapped him to it.
Up ahead was another camel with a rider wearing Bedouin robes.From the position he was in, it was impossible to see much of anything and blood had rushed to his head.Noah swore, then called out.“Who’s there?”
The camels slowed, and the rider brought both low to dismount.Noah struggled to keep his eyes open, his lids heavy as the rider came toward him.
The face he recognized.Stephen.
Dread crept into him as Stephen approached.“You’re awake.”Stephen crouched beside him and untied the rope that held him.To Noah’s surprise, Stephen helped him from the camel.
Noah stumbled onto the hard ground, not caring that a rock dug into him as he sat.He felt light-headed and flecks swam in his vision, the pain in his head like a spike in his skull.He fingered the side of his head and found a large contusion crusted with dried blood.“What the hell happened?”
“A group of Turkish soldiers came into the Bedouin encampment.Whether the Bedouin informed them we were there or they happened to come by, I don’t know.”Stephen took out a canteen.He uncapped it and held it out to Noah.
Jack’s canteen.
Noah licked his cracked lips.He turned the canteen over in his hands, but didn’t take a sip.“Where’s Jack?”
Stephen’s eyes were cool.“When I last saw him, the Turks had him.”
Noah struggled to get to his feet, but his footing evaded him and he collapsed on his hands and knees.With a heaving breath, he managed, “We have to go back.”An earsplitting sound pulsed through his head.
“He’s dead, Benson.They executed him as I escaped with you.You would be dead too if it weren’t for me.”
Stephen delivered the news without ceremony, without pity.
