Page 46 of Healing Hazel

When he continued on, crossed the cloister, and came into the East ward, he was surprised to see the nurses taking patients from their beds. Camila brought a wheeled chair to the bedside of a man with a fractured leg, and some of the others were assisting Mikel to stand. One patient leaned on a companion as they walked toward the chapel.

Hazel came from the direction of the laundry, pushing a cart that held a basin of water and a pile of towels.

“What is happening?” she asked Camila. “¿Qué está pasando?” She left the cart in the aisle and held the wheeled chair steady as Camila helped the patient into it.

“Es para navidad,” Camila said.

“Navidad?” Hazel took her Spanish-to-English dictionary from her apron pocket.

“Christmas,” Jim translated for her, aware now that he’d lost track of the date. It was already the twenty-fourth of December.

“It is Christmas?” Hazel’s face lit up. “I didn’t realize.”

“Tomorrow,” Jim clarified. “Padre de Leon will hold mass tonight for all who can attend.”

“Navidad.” Hazel spoke the word as if she were getting used to the sound. She assisted another patient out of his bed, steadying him as he stood.

Jim took the man’s arm and led him toward the chapel. Hazel followed, taking the arm of another young man who was limping toward the chapel.

“I cannot believe it’s already Christmas,” she said. “Tell me, how do people celebrate the holiday here?”

Jim glanced over his shoulder at her. “Christmas or not, it is still a hospital, and most of the patients don’t feel like celebrating.”

“Nonsense.” The excited expression on her face hadn’t faltered a bit, in spite of his gruff words. “Everyone enjoys Christmas.” They helped their patients step across the threshold and sit in a pew in the candlelit chapel. “We will find a way to make the holiday special,” Hazel said.

Jim groaned. “Can’t we be content in keeping the patients healthy and the hospital running smoothly?”

“Don’t tell me you’re a Christmas curmudgeon, Dr. Jackson.” She wagged a finger at him, shook her head in exaggerated disappointment, and started back to the ward.

Jim followed, trying to maintain a surly expression. He enjoyed a regular schedule, and most of the patients were close to being released. The workload was reduced, and he actually had time to do regular things such as sleep or eat a meal without rushing. But Hazel’s good cheer had rubbed off on him, and a small thrill moved through him, a shadow of the anticipation for the holiday he’d felt as a boy. For the first time in years, he found himself looking forward to Christmas Day.

***

The next morning, Jim slept late, as did the entire hospital. By the time mass was finished and everyone had returned to their beds, the hour was well into early morning. He ate a quick breakfast and went to the West ward to begin his rounds. When he came inside, he stopped, noticing right away the pine boughs that hung over the arched windows. Paper flowers were tucked among the garlands, and when he looked closer, he saw they were cut from old medical charts. Bows had been tied from strips of bandages. There were extra candles on the windowsills, giving a festive glow, their flames sparkling in the glass.

“Happy Christmas, Dr. Jackson.” Hazel jumped up from where she sat beside one of the English patients. She excused herself and set down the papers she’d been writing on and came to join him.

“Happy Christmas, Hazel.” He motioned around to the decorations. “I imagine this is your doing?”

“The other nurses participated as well.” She fished out something from her apron pocket, offering it to him.

He held out his hand, and she dropped it into his palm. It was a peppermint. Jim hadn’t eaten a sweet since... he couldn’t even remember how long it had been. He put it in his mouth and realized he was smiling. “Thank you.”

“You are very welcome.”

He noticed Dr. Laurent sat at a patient’s bedside, writing on a stack of papers just as Hazel had been, as did Miss Westbrook. “What are you all doing?”

“Writing letters for the patients who are, for one reason or another, unable to do so themselves,” Hazel said as if the answer were obvious. “For those who can write, we’ve provided stationery and envelopes,” she explained. “Lucía, Camila, and the others are doing the same in the East ward.”

“Very considerate,” Jim said, impressed with the thoughtfulness of the gift. It would certainly be meaningful to the patients who must be desperate to communicate with their loved ones. But there was a reason the hospital hadn’t provided the service before. The postage system in this remote part of the Pyrenees Mountains was nearly nonexistent and was made even worse by the war. Jim had a difficult enough time communicating with Red Cross headquarters, and that was usually done by messenger. “How do you propose to send the letters once they are written?” he asked.

Her gaze slid to the side. “I will take them with me when I leave.” She glanced up at him and then away. “Dr. Laurent believes we can send some to the mountain towns with the priest and others with the man who delivers produce.” She still didn’t look at Jim, but returned to her patient’s bedside, lifting the papers back into her lap. “If you have time, we would appreciate your assistance.” She motioned toward the other beds in the ward. “There is plenty to be done.”

Jim had scarcely heard what she said after “when I leave.” Although they’d been spoken in a soft voice, the words had struck like bullets. He watched as she spoke to the patient, returning to writing as the man dictated, but Jim couldn’t hear what they were saying. He couldn’t hear anything at all besides a dull humming. He continued through the ward, not stopping at any of the bedsides but going straight to the door leading into the cloister. The chilly air was welcome. He sat on the bench, hearing Hazel’s voice repeating the phrase in his mind.

Of course she would leave the hospital. It was never a question. The train company would no doubt have contacted both her father in Africa and her relatives in London, and it was only a matter of time before her companions were able to leave as well. But to hear it said aloud... He realized he’d not permitted himself to plan for when it inevitably happened. Jim took in a deep breath, the taste of peppermint strong in his mouth and tingling in his nose. She would leave, and everything would return to how it was before.

But would it? Hazel coming to the hospital had not only changed the management of hospital duties; it had changed Jim himself, and in a way that he didn’t believe could be reversed.

---