Page 10 of Healing Hazel

“But, Doctor—” she began.

Jim held up a hand to stop her words. “This isn’t a fancy city infirmary fully supplied with medicines and equipment and pretty curtained windows, where gentlemen come for a cough remedy. It’s an active military hospital in a warzone. The patients brought through those doors have suffered injuries so barbarous that sometimes all we can do is put the pieces back together and call the priest.”

Miss Thornton held herself straight, and something flickered in her eyes—a flash of something familiar. Jim knew that look from the eyes of soldiers who had seen more than a person should have to witness. “You do not know my history, Dr. Jackson.” She spoke softly. “I am not a stranger to the horrors of war.” Her lip quivered the slightest bit, but instead of making her look afraid, the movement only added to her air of surety. “I have had training, and I will not be a burden to you or to the hospital.” Her voice did not get louder, but it was somehow stronger.

“We can always use more hands,” Dr. Laurent said. “One more nurse would be most valuable. If she’s willing to work and she is trained, however partially, she would be an asset.”

His words were true. The small staff was always overwhelmed. One more nurse would make a substantial difference. But was Miss Thornton capable? Jim doubted it. “Very well,” he said, too tired to argue further. He picked up a chart from the foot of another bed, looked it over, and set it back into its holder on the iron footboard. “Just remember I warned you.” He looked between the three of them, then nodded to Dr. Laurent and left the ward, ready to sleep and certain he’d just made an enormous mistake.

Chapter 3

An hour later, carrying herhatboxes and handbag, Hazel followed Lucía, whom she understood to be the head nurse, along the covered passageway that surrounded the garden. Lucía was short and sturdily built with thick dark hair pulled back tightly and hidden beneath a starched white nursing cap. Based upon the frown lines around her mouth and her disapproving scowl, she was a person who had no tolerance for nonsense.

Dr. Laurent had introduced the women. He’d had a brief conversation in Spanish with the head nurse and then explained to Hazel that he’d placed her into Lucía’s charge and she’d be shown to her sleeping quarters. She could begin her work once she’d rested. Hazel had thanked Dr. Laurent, seeing by the dark circles beneath his eyes that he needed rest as well, and bid him farewell. She was pleased that she’d found a champion in the kind bald-headed man. He had spoken to the train personnel on her behalf, arranging luggage and sending messages to Uncle Archibald in London and her father on the Gold Coast. He’d washed and stitched up the cut in her palm. And he’d brought Hazel to the hospital, confident that she would be a valuable addition to the staff—even if it was only in a temporary capacity.

If she’d not been permitted to remain at the hospital... She frowned, remembering Dr. Jackson’s resistance to the idea. What had he expected her to do? The small town they had passed on the way to the hospital was surely too small for an inn. Did he think she could somehow find her way back to England alone? With no mode of transport and no understanding of the language? She wasn’t even sure where exactly they were. Somewhere in the Basque country, she assumed. If only she’d studied a map before she’d come. As it was, she’d taken only a quick glance of the train routes and the major cities. Her focus had been upon the final destination, not the regions along the way.

At least for now, she had somewhere to stay while she figured out how to get herself and her two companions home safely to England. Hazel’s and the head nurse’s footsteps on stone echoed in the quiet of early morning. Seeing that Lucía was moving quickly, Hazel hurried her step, glancing at the laundry hanging in neat rows at the end of the garden. She shivered at the chill in the mountain air.

Reaching the far end of the passageway, Lucía entered another wing of the hospital and continued on without glancing behind to see whether Hazel was keeping pace.

Hazel pushed through the door, her arms full of her things from the train compartment, into a windowless passageway lit only with candle lamps set at intervals in niches in the stone walls. It felt very old-fashioned to be in a place lit solely by candlelight rather than gas lamps, and the effect, with the tall Gothic arches, was a bit eerie.

As she passed the various rooms, Hazel took quick glances, trying to get her bearings in this new place. Most of the doors were closed, but the kitchen was easily recognizable by the noises of food being chopped and the smell of... something that involved sausage. A cook must be preparing breakfast. Hazel’s stomach rumbled, reminding her she’d not eaten since luncheon on the train the day before.

From another doorway came the smell of soap and steam. Lucía entered, crossing to an open wardrobe. A pair of nurses folded a pile of sheets. They greeted Lucía and stared curiously at Hazel.

Aside from a small nod, Lucía paid the women little notice. She took a light-blue cotton dress from the wardrobe and held it up in front of Hazel, as if to judge the size. She handed the dress to Hazel. From one shelf Lucía took a white apron, from another a starched white cap, and finally, an armband with a red cross.

“Gracias.” Hazel accepted the clothing, juggling hatboxes and bags to balance it all.

Lucía gave another nod and left the room, and Hazel waved to the other nurses and followed her as she turned down a different passageway.

Halfway down, Lucía stopped in front of a door, took a lamp from a wall niche, and held it out. Hazel set down her load and took it. Lucía motioned to the door, and Hazel opened it, pushing the heavy wooden panel and entering a small windowless cupboard of a room. She held up the lamp, but it took only a quick glance to see the entire contents of the bedchamber: a wooden cot with a folded blanket, a straight-backed chair, a small table with a worn copy of the Bible, and on the wall a carved wooden cross.

Lucía said something, and seeing that Hazel didn’t understand, she pointed to the key in the lock.

“Gracias, Lucía,” Hazel said, making a note to learn more Spanish words.

Lucía gave another one of her sharp nods and left.

Hazel brought her things into the room, pulling the door closed behind her. She turned the key. The room seemed even smaller once the door was shut. She set the lamp on the table and laid the clothing over the back of the chair.

For a moment, the room’s size made her worry she would panic, but she waited, breathing, and felt surprisingly calm. She sat on the bed, realizing there was no mattress or sheets. And she had no nightclothes. The barren room was the furthest thing from cozy, but at least it was a room. According to Dr. Laurent and the railway officials, the luggage of those who had come to the hos-pital should be delivered within a few days, once the mess was sorted. She shifted on the cot, feeling sorry for the monks who had lived such a spartan life. Hadn’t they at least wished for a pillow?

But exhaustion quickly supplanted any complaints of discomfort, and Hazel laid her head on the folded woolen blanket and slept.

***

When Hazel opened her eyes, the world was entirely dark. She felt a stab of fear, but it lasted only an instant, and she remembered where she was. The candle must have gone out. Was it night? Or was the small room too far hidden for any sunlight to find it? Either way, she was sure there was plenty of work to do. Patients didn’t stop hurting just because the hour grew late.

Her thoughts turned to Nella and Captain Bryant. Had their condition improved? Dr. Laurent had worried about Nella’s fever. And the captain... had he awoken?

She sat up and stretched, her body aching from the hard bed and, she suspected, from the train accident. Sleeping in a corset hadn’t done her any favors either. She waited for her eyes to adjust but gave up after a moment when the room remained every bit as dark as it had been when she woke. She’d have to remember to conserve her candle in the future, and perhaps she could locate some striking matches.

Blasts sounded in the distance, startling her. Was it the sound of gunfire? Surely it couldn’t be. The stone walls were thick, and from what she’d seen, the hospital was fairly secluded. Perhaps she was just hearing the usual noises made by an old building and embellishing them with her imagination.

She fumbled with her buttons, feeling her way to removing her traveling dress, underskirts, and tournure and realized her shoulder ached more than yesterday. Her palm stung beneath the bandage Dr. Laurent had applied. She breathed a sigh when she removed the tight corset. Blindly, she pulled the blue nurse’s dress over her head and put her arms into the sleeves. The cotton felt worn and soft. She fastened the buttons. Then, feeling as if she were decent enough should someone walk past, she unlocked and opened the door.

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