Page 23 of Healing Hazel

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Once the wagons returned to the hospital, the night was completely dark. Jim spent the next several hours either preparing for surgery, performing surgery, or moving to the next surgery. He still felt angry as he thought of Santa Rosa and the damage that had been done. Why were so many innocents hurt during war? Why had the Carlists chosen to make a stand in the town? Had they believed the Spanish Army wouldn’t attack for fear of hurting civilians? How could they put their families at risk in that way? And why had the Spanish Army chosen to attack, knowing full well that there were women and children in the range of their artillery? Did they think the innocents were expendable? Was the cost ever worth it?

His thoughts could not still. He thought of the mountains beyond the town, where the fighting men had gone. Dr. Laurent had thought there were more injured who didn’t trust the doctors not to turn them over to the Spanish Army. He tapped a finger against his leg, wishing he knew how to reach them, how to convince them—and everyone—that the International Red Cross was indeed who they claimed to be—an impartial organization dedicated to helping victims of armed conflict and natural disasters. There was no agenda. They worked for no government. But gaining the trust of people whose neighbors and even family members had turned against them was no easy task. A civil war was more complicated than simply choosing a side, something Jim knew far too well.

He shook his head, washing a poor young man’s blood off his hands. He’d asked himself the same questions over the years but had never reached a satisfactory answer. The only thing that made sense, in his eyes, wassavinglives. Following procedures, making difficult decisions, and ensuring as many people as possible survived.

Jim’s thoughts flashed to that instant before Miss Thornton had lunged for the opening in the broken wall, to the flash of defiance in her eyes. He ground his teeth, swallowing a bitter taste. The anger andfearhe’d felt as he’d waited for her had nearly choked him. He breathed for a moment, pushing away the memory so he could focus.

He dried off his hands and turned to survey his next patient. The elderly woman’s knee had been crushed beneath falling rocks. He glanced at her face, all but her eyes and forehead hidden beneath the chloroform cone. She slept soundly, unaware of her pain now, as the drug moved through her body, depressing her central nervous system. Jim could feel his own exhaustion, dark at the edges of his mind. But for him, sleep would have to wait.

Once the emergency patients were attended to, Jim continued his rounds. As usual, he was pleased by the progress of some but discouraged at its lack in others. The young man Mikel had regained some use of his hand, but the skin around his bullet wound was still red and hot. Jim worried that his weakened state would leave him unable to fight infection.

Finished with his rounds on this side of the building, he crossed through the cloister into the other ward. When he stopped by the bed of the soldier who had suffered a head injury in the train attack, he was pleased to see a note in the chart that indicated he’d woken and even eaten some broth. Jim touched his fingers to the captain’s head, pleased that he had no fever. His bandages had been changed recently, so Jim decided to wait until the morning to examine the burr holes.

He continued along the ward and joined Dr. Laurent at the bedside of the mother who’d been rescued in Santa Rosa. A small group of nurses was at her bedside as well, and among them was Miss Thornton, gently bouncing the brown-eyed baby.

Seeing Jim, she turned away, keeping her attention fully on the child in her arms. She spoke in a soft voice to calm the baby, and hearing it, Jim found it difficult to hold on to his anger.

The other nurses were arranging a basket, where the baby could sleep, on a small table beside its mother.

“What is your assessment?” Jim asked Dr. Laurent. He lifted his chin, motioning to the patient.

“Jakinda complains of pain in her abdomen. At least two ribs are broken, but her lungs, zhey are intact.” He glanced at the woman, then back to the chart. “She cannot sit up without becoming dizzy.”

“Internal bleeding?” Jim asked.

“I see no outward signs,” Dr. Laurent replied. “But it is possible.” He turned a page on the chart, tapping his pencil against the paper. “Zhe only way to know for certain is to operate, and I do not know if she is strong enough to survive a surgery.”

Jim nodded. It would be foolish to put the woman’s body through trauma that could potentially be lethal in order to confirm whether such a surgery was needed in the first place. “A paradox,” he said.

“Oui.” Dr. Laurent closed the file. “I have instructed zhe nurses to monitor her carefully, and if anything changes, zhey will notify one of us immediately. But, for now, we will keep her comfortable and hope to manage zhe pain.”

Jim agreed. It was all they could do.

Jakinda rolled her head to the side and reached her hand toward Miss Thornton, who settled the baby into its mother’s arms. Miss Thornton placed a pillow beside the woman so the child wouldn’t roll off the bed if its mother’s hold became too weak.

Jakinda smiled a thank-you, then looked down at her baby. She seemed to have difficulty keeping her eyes open, most likely because of the morphine.

Miss Thornton smoothed the sheets and picked up a glass of water from where it sat on the bedside table, returning it to the rolling cart in the aisle. When she passed Jim, she kept her gaze from meeting his.

Even though he was exhausted, Jim knew he needed to speak to her tonight. Otherwise, the gentle way she treated patients and her quiet efficiency would make him forget how she’d defied his orders. He could already feel his temperament softening toward her, and if he was to enact the proper discipline, he needed to do it now. It was crucial that she understood the rules and the consequences for breaking them, and it was crucial for him to regain the control he’d lost. He couldn’t let her put herself in harm’s way again. He needed to know she wouldn’t.

“If you please, Miss Thornton, I should like a word with you.”

She turned, a hint of worry wrinkling her forehead. It was smoothed out and gone in an instant, and she met his gaze steadily. It was the most confident expression he’d seen on the young lady. “Of course, Dr. Jackson.”

He turned and started away, beckoning her to follow with a flick of his wrist.

Miss Thornton’s steps echoed softly as they left the ward and walked through the darkened corridors, past the kitchen, to the office shared by the three doctors. Jim took a lamp from an alcove and opened the door, holding it for her.

She stepped to the threshold and hesitated.

Jim glanced into the room beyond her. The office had once been a library, its walls lined with dark wooden shelves, and it contained one of the few windows in the building. Medical instruments and equipment were arranged on the tables and shelves, including vials and tubes and even a microscope. The few books the doctors had brought were stacked on the center table, even though empty shelves surrounded them. They were used so often that it seemed a waste of effort to return them each time. In the daylight, the room was bright and welcoming, but at night, it had an entirely different appearance, bordering on sinister.

Jim reached past her, holding up the lamp so she could enter.

Miss Thornton stepped inside. She stood just inside the doorway as Jim lit the candles around the room, then placed the lamp on the table. The light did little to disperse the shadows—Jim had rarely noticed before—but at least the two could see one another.

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