Page 61 of Healing Hazel

“I’m sorry for disturbing you.” She felt shy at his closeness, which was silly since they’d been much closer. She’d slept next to him in the little stone house, for heaven’s sake.

“I heard you’d woken.” Jim measured some medicine into the water and helped her drink. “And I couldn’t bear to miss being here when you woke again.” He brushed a strand of hair from her forehead.

She felt a ribbon of tingles where he’d touched her skin. His tone left her speechless for a long moment. There was so much emotion behind the words. “You look tired,” she said at last.

Jim shrugged and smiled. “I’m entirely well.”

She looked closer, seeing lines around his mouth and heaviness in his eyelids, but didn’t argue. She yawned, and it turned into another cough. “I don’t remember arriving back in the hospital,” she said once she finished coughing. “We were in the mountains and then I woke here.” She tried to find the memories, but there were only snatches, she couldn’t tell which were dreams. “You brought me all this way,” she said. “You saved my life.” The frankness of her words made her blush, but they had to be said.

“Hazel, if anything had happened to you...” Jim swallowed, looking away. When he turned back, his eyes were shining.

His worry made her feel self-conscious and guilty for being the cause of it. It also made her feel like she’d been wrapped in a heavenly embrace, which was hardly appropriate for the situation. “Nothing will happen to me,” she said. “I have an exceptional doctor.” She took his hand, speaking in a light voice meant to lift the somber mood.

He squeezed her fingers in reply.

“Now, tell me what has occurred while I slept,” she said, wanting to find a topic that would not upset him. “Has there been another battle? Has Captain Bryant’s condition improved?” So much speaking left her gasping.

“We’ve acquired seven new patients from the battle a few days ago, and they were tended to by Dr. Ruiz while we were away. Captain Bryant improves each day. And...” Jim raised their joined hands and kissed her fingers, then set her hand back on the bed. He pulled up the sheets that had been crumpled with her coughing, straightening them. “Your doctor is ordering you to rest.”

“I have slept for days,” she complained, but her slow blinking betrayed her. The morphine was starting to work. She yawned and coughed.

“Tomorrow I will have Alona make you a special meal.” The corner of Jim’s mouth lifted in a teasing smirk. “Plain gruel.”

Hazel made a face without opening her eyes.

“I’m going to take the light,” he said. “Unless you need it.” She could hear the implication in his voice. He wondered if waking in the darkness would cause her panic to return.

“You can take it,” she said.

“Good night, Hazel.”

“Good night.”

She felt a soft kiss on her forehead and forced her eyes open. “Jim, I’m glad I came here.”

He paused, his hand on the curtain. “I’m glad as well. There were times I feared we wouldn’t find our way through the mountains.”

“No.” She fought against the sleep. “I’m glad I’m here in Spain. In the hospital. I’m glad I came here and glad I met you.” The words left her exhausted, and the moment they were said, she dropped back into her dark slumber.

Chapter 20

Jim peered into the microscopelens, studying the blood sample, looking for the telltale shapes of bacteria. He worried one of the patients from the battleground the week before suffered from sepsis, and according to what he was seeing, his analysis was right. He blew out a tired breath.

A knock sounded on the door. “Dr. Jackson.” Camila stepped inside. “There are some gentlemen here to see you—officers. They are English.”

“Show them in.” He made a quick note on the patient’s chart and stood, coming to the door just as the men entered. They were indeed English officers. The pair wore red coats, and each held a black foreign service helmet, complete with gold insignia, beneath his arm.

The older man was clearly the superior officer, evident not only by the embellishments on his uniform—a general, if Jim was not mistaken—but also in the way he held his chin high, his eyes scanning the room with an air of authority. The general was slender with exceptionally straight posture, intelligent eyes, and a thick mustache waxed to a point on either cheek. He stood straight, confident in his own importance.

“I’m Dr. Jim Jackson of the International Red Cross.” Jim inclined his head in greeting. “Please, come in and sit down. How might I be of service, officers?”

“Thank you,” the general said. He glanced at his companion. “Our horses require water, Doctor. Is there somewhere the sergeant might tend to them?”

“Yes, of course.” Jim stepped into the corridor, calling for an orderly. When the man arrived, Jim explained to him in Spanish what was needed, and the man departed with the sergeant, leaving Jim alone with the general.

Jim motioned toward a pair of chairs.

The general remained standing. “I beg your pardon; I have yet to introduce myself. General Sir William Ambrose Thornton.” He tipped his head the slightest bit. “How do you do?”

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