Page 24 of A Zephyr Rising
“Oh, nothing.You may come in now.”Ginger neatly tucked her stocking into her shoe and set it at the base of the chair.She straightened as the door opened and then adjusted the neckline of her gown, which had shifted while she’d been leaning forward.
The doctor bent in front of her once again and examined her ankle.After asking her to turn it a few times, he sat on his heels, still holding her foot in his hands.“Well, there’s no visible bruising, but it is swollen.I’d say it’s just a sprain.You want to rest it, with ice.”He met her gaze.“How was it this happened?”
“I was running.The Martins—” She paused.She couldn’t let her experiences make her entirely cynical.And Dr.Clark had such a kind gaze.“Mr.Martin is German, you see.He’s been here for ages and his wife is British-born, but now with the war, he’s been imprisoned.Some radicals in the village burned the Martins’ shop last night.I helped them escape.”
A dark look crossed over James’s face.“Say no more.I understand completely.”
An apprehensive feeling gnawed at her heart.“I don’t at all believe he’s guilty of any crime?—”
James startled, his fingers curling around the sole of her foot.“Oh, no, you misunderstand.We’ve seen several patients come through the last week—victims of attacks from an overzealous public.My sympathies are with Mr.Martin and his wife.What’s happening is barbarous.All Englishmen should do more to make certain we aren’t penalizing the innocent for the acts of others.”
She smiled.At last, someone who seemed to understand her sentiments.“Yes, I quite agree.”His continued hold on her foot felt strange, and she shifted.“I’ve been urging my father to take up the Martins’ case with the Home Secretary but he’s worried he’ll be seen as too sympathetic to the Germans.”
“McKenna and Asquith were the only ones who expressed hesitation in passing the Aliens Restriction Act.”James shook his head.“Then again, Asquith has been a disappointment as the Liberal Prime Minister we hoped for.”
“Well, he’s certainly done little for the vote for women.”Ginger checked herself.She rarely gave her political opinion publicly on the suffragette cause.Her father had made it clear he did not support his daughters becoming vocal supporters of these movements.Then again, her discomfort might be due, in part, to James continuing to hold her foot.Was this a normal part of the examination?
James’s eyes were warm.“My thoughts exactly.”
Ginger cleared her throat and pulled her foot back slightly.
Clearly just realizing he hadn’t released her, James startled.He gave her foot a slight pat and then lowered it.“You’ll be fine.I’ll wrap it for you.It will help stabilize the joint.Rest and aspirin.I’ll give you some.”
He reached into a drawer and removed a bandage.Taking her foot once more, he wrapped it around her ankle and foot deftly.When he’d finished, he cut the bandage and tied it off.“It’ll be bulky.But you’ll find it hurts less because you can’t bend it as easily.”
He was right.She bore weight on her foot much better with the bandage on.
Ginger smiled to herself as he left her to pull her stocking on.He was an amiable man, though perhaps not the most graceful.Still, she appreciated the way he’d conversed with her.When he entered the room again, he handed her a small envelope.“Take these tablets with water.Two, every four hours.It should help the pain.”
She took the envelope, clutching her handbag.“Thank you for all your help.You’ve been such a gift this morning.”She turned to go.
“Excuse me—one thing.”James grabbed a pamphlet from his desk.“You said you helped Mrs.Martin and her children flee their burning shop?”
“Yes, that’s right.”She didn’t want to have to admit she was partially to blame for the shop’s torching.
The corners of James’s eyes turned up in a smile.“You’re quite the heroine.May I ask—you’re not married, are you?”
His boldness was astounding.Ginger’s eyes widened.She gripped her handbag tighter, hoping to keep herself from blushing.“No, no—I’m not.”
James reddened.“I didn’t mean—” He ran his fingers through his hair.“That’s to say, while any man would be quite fortunate to have you as a wife, my interest was more professionally based.”He jammed the pamphlet toward her.“The Queen Alexandra’s Imperial Military Nursing Service.They have a requirement their nurses be unmarried women, you see.Given young Charlie’s injuries, you clearly have a strong stomach.You might be a good match for them.”
She—a nurse?She furrowed her brow.His echo of her unspoken thoughts, thoughts she’d barely verbalized, felt as if he’d read her mind.
She gawked at the pamphlet, then took it, hesitantly.“Nursing?”She stared at the typeface on the pamphlet.“I-I’m uncertain I’d have many skills to offer.”Not to mention her father would more than likely forbid it.But still.The idea gave her a rush of excitement up her spine.
“Well, it might be something for you to consider.I am volunteering for the Royal Army Medical Corps.There will be an urgent need for doctors and nurses soon.It may be a good way for you to do your bit, if you’d like.”He smiled.“St.Thomas’ has a well-known program for nurses.I could put a word in for you.”
He would do that?He hardly knew her.That her actions with Charlie had impressed him brought a wave of pride.Could she do something like nursing?The idea was bold.A huge departure from any role she’d ever imagined for herself.Ginger met his eyes and a strange, energetic feeling rose in her heart.
It was a laughable thought—wasn’t it?
ChapterEight
Ginger rushed into the sitting room at her aunt’s house in London.She surveyed the quiet scene—Henry resting on the sofa reading the newspaper, their aunt and grandmother having tea.She kept her emotions in check and then said, “I’ve decided I want to be a nurse.”
Her aunt, midway to lifting her teacup to her lips, paused.A curious and flabbergasted expression glimmered in her eyes.No doubt she found Ginger’s appearance—still in the gown from the previous evening, hair bedraggled—to be outrageous enough.Ginger had done her best to tidy herself, but she was aware of how ridiculous she appeared for the time of day.
Henry lowered his paper and Gran turned toward her, chewing a biscuit slowly.Gran spoke first.“Heavens.It’s Ginny.For a moment I thought the voices in my head were speaking aloud at last.”The very faintest lilt of a Scottish accent was evident in Gran’s voice.Her grandmother had been out of Scotland for most of her life, but Ginger had always loved the way she spoke.
