Page 42 of Healing Hazel

Chapter 13

Hazel braced her feet againstthe toeboard and held tightly to Nerea as they rode toward Santa Rosa the next morning. She sat between Dr. Jackson and padre Cavallero on the wagon’s bench. The other ambulance wagon, bearing the bodies, was driven by the hospital orderlies and followed behind. The morning air was frigid, especially as they passed beneath shadows on the mountain road, and Hazel thought she might prefer to ride in the wagon’s bed beneath the canvas bonnet with Camila and Lucía, but feeling the steady warmth of Dr. Jackson beside her, she discounted that thought immediately. She glanced up at him, receiving a warm smile that turned her insides to jelly.

Nerea was fascinated by the sights around them. She wriggled around, wanting to see everything. She stared up at the towering mountains with snow on their peaks and in their shadows, and with delight she took in the trees and fluffy clouds in the bright-blue sky. Hazel turned the baby around on her lap, giving her a better view, and watched as her deep brown eyes moved from sight to sight. After nearly an hour of travel, Nerea’s eyes closed, and Hazel shifted her around into a more comfortable position, wrapping the blanket more tightly around her against the cold. She adjusted the little hat Nella had knitted, making sure it completely covered the baby’s ears.

The journey was quiet, partly because it was so early in the morning, but Hazel thought it was also out of respect for the dead they transported. She was content to sit in silence, enjoying the view and allowing herself to ponder.

How much had changed since she’d gotten on the train in London weeks earlier. The circumstances around her were so extraordinary, so different from anything she’d known or imagined she would be involved in. But most surprising of all was how much Hazel herself had changed. She felt confident and capable, more so than she’d ever felt in her life. She was given difficult tasks and managed to complete them. She had become faster in her duties and more knowledgeable in her understanding of the human body and its treatment. The responsibility of caring for a wounded or ill person, for managing their symptoms and care, had seemed so daunting at first, but she’d come to trust her learning, her experience, and her colleagues.

The work had been exhausting and challenging, both physically and emotionally. She felt a heavy aching when she saw her patients’ pain and fear. And Jakinda... Hazel’s heart squeezed as she thought of the woman. She looked down at the baby in her arms, memorizing her face, her round cheeks, the way her lashes curled, her pouty lips. She would not have believed she could come to care for a child the way she cared for Nerea.

The ache inside her grew, and Hazel’s eyes burned. She blinked away her tears and lifted her gaze to watch the road, realizing they’d not passed one other person on their journey. Perhaps it was typical for the road to be deserted this early in the morning. Or maybe it was because so many of the men were away fighting.

Just as she had the thought, shots rang out, echoing through the mountains. Hazel wondered if the person shooting the weapon was from Santa Rosa. Could it be a patient they’d treated? What if it were Ramiro?

More shots sounded and Nerea woke, grabbing on to Hazel’s necklace. Instead of prying it from her hand, Hazel allowed the baby to hold it. She rocked her softly, speaking soft words meant to calm. Nerea gave a toothless grin that tugged at her heart. Hazel checked that the baby’s ears were covered and realized that she had, without knowing it, leaned against Dr. Jackson at the sound of the gunshots. She started to sit up but glanced at him, and seeing his comforting expression, she remained where she was, glad at the reminder that he was near and she was safe. Hopefully the priest didn’t notice.

They passed through a meadow crossed with hedgerows that shone with frost. Ahead, Hazel could see trails of smoke rising beyond the trees. When they rounded a bend, Santa Rosa was before them, nestled against the mountain. The towers of the church stood firm in the center of the village, the stone looking solid and timeless. Houses with black slate roofs were trimmed with red or green paint. The town was so charming in its appearance, it was hard to believe they’d suffered such devastation only a few days earlier.

As they drew near, she could see people gathered on the road at the edge of the village. Women in brightly colored peasant dresses and scarves mingled with boys and old men wearing loose trousers and berets. At a word from the priest, Dr. Jackson stopped the wagon, and they climbed out. The crowd came toward them, a child in the robe of an altar boy holding a pole topped by a gold cross.

The priest took the cross, and once the ambulance wagon carrying the deceased arrived, he motioned for it to follow, striding ahead of it in a procession. Two women walked before the priest. They wore black cloths over their hair, and each carried a basket with what appeared to be loaves of bread. Hazel was curious but didn’t ask about it, not wanting to break the reverent silence with her question.

Many of the villagers greeted Nerea with quiet whispers and gentle smiles. When the ambulance wagon passed, they bowed their heads.

Hazel held Nerea close, studying the villagers and wondering which was Iraxte Royo. She felt a mixture of emotions toward this woman she’d never met, both resenting her and at the same time praying she was as wonderful and kind as the priest had told Dr. Jackson she was.

A group of women following directly behind the wagon wailed, crying out in mournful laments that made Hazel’s eyes fill with tears. They pulled at their faces and clothes, and their cries echoed through the rocky peaks.

Once the mourning women passed by, the remainder of the crowd followed, walking with slow steps, their heads still bowed. Hazel and the other hospital staff joined the villagers in the procession, winding through the town.

Dr. Jackson walked beside Hazel. Once when she stumbled on the uneven road, he caught her arm and offered to carry Nerea, but Hazel just shook her head. Even though her arms were tired, she wanted every last moment with the baby. He remained close.

The path the procession took to the church was not the most direct, Hazel realized after turning down another road in the village, but the route must have some significance. Perhaps they were passing the home of each of the deceased. Footsteps clacked off the cobblestones, and by their sound, she thought many of the shoes must be made of wood.

The roads were cleared of debris. She could see the people had been hard at work, mending their village as well as they were able with the men away. Some of the homes had been repaired, while others remained as she’d seen them before, missing walls and roofs.

When they reached the churchyard, they found the graves were only partially dug. Young boys and older men with thick white hair gratefully gave their shovels to Dr. Jackson and the orderlies, who set to digging in the villagers’ place.

Hazel moved to the far side of the churchyard and sat on a stone wall. She took a feeding bottle from her satchel and gave it to Nerea. Her position gave an excellent view, and she was glad to be close enough to watch the activity while remaining far enough not to intrude.

The baby fussed, not at all happy that the milk was cool, but eventually, Hazel persuaded her to drink.

Hazel looked toward the graves, searching for Dr. Jackson, but it appeared he’d gone. She wondered if he was inside the church or if someone had needed his assistance elsewhere.

Women came to the ambulance wagon then, sprinkling the dead with holy water, wrapping what appeared to be candles in the hands of the deceased and adjusting their clothing and shrouds. With the assistance of Lucía and Camila, they moved the bodies into the waiting coffins.

A quick movement from a side street drew Hazel’s attention. It was Dr. Jackson. He walked to the coffins at a hurried pace, and when he arrived, he handed something to Camila. A shoe. Hazel warmed inside, and her heart expanded. He must have unearthed it in the little alleyway beside Jakinda’s house. She swallowed. When he glanced toward her, she smiled her gratitude.

He gave a small wave and returned to digging. The graves were finished within a few moments.

Camila spoke to the other women, and one, a tall woman wearing a black headscarf, crouched down, putting the shoe on Jakinda’s foot.

The coffins were then closed and lowered into the graves.

Hazel came to stand with the others, feeling as if Nerea should be near when her mother was buried, and Dr. Jackson joined her. “You found her shoe,” Hazel said in a quiet voice.

He nodded. “It was right where you said it would be.”

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