Fire by Night (45 page)

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Authors: Lynn Austin

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BOOK: Fire by Night
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Julia had cleaned the blood off other wounded men countless times, but she slowly became aware of the impropriety of what she was doing as she worked on James McGrath. An unmarried woman simply shouldn’t be performing such duties. It was what everyone— her father, Dorothea Dix, Nathaniel—had been telling her all along. She hadn’t worried much about her reputation when she was in Washington pretending to be married to Robert, but she was no longer pretending. The other Commission volunteers knew she was single. If one of them were to walk into the darkened sitting room right now and see her alone with a half-naked man, Julia’s reputation would be ruined. So would her future as a minister’s wife.

And there was something more. She was no longer able to deny the strong attraction she felt toward James McGrath, an attraction that was very wrong.

Julia was suddenly in a hurry to finish. She quickly washed his bloodstained hands. She noticed that they were bare, but it took a moment for the truth to register—James wasn’t wearing his wedding ring. She dropped his left hand in shock.

What did it mean? Had he removed the ring so he could operate? But Julia had assisted him with surgery in Fredericksburg and he hadn’t removed it then. She scrambled to her feet. She felt close to panic and didn’t know why. She needed to leave. But she hadn’t fed him yet, and that was what the other doctor had specifically asked her to do.

Unwilling to go through the kitchen again, Julia found the front door to the farmhouse and hurried around to where her fellow volunteers were distributing soup. She silently took a tin bowl and spoon and was about to go back inside when one of the other ladies stopped her.

“You look quite pale, Julia. Are you all right? Is it horribly gruesome in there?”

She grasped the excuse like a lifeline. “Yes. They’re performing surgery. Please warn everyone to stay outside.”

“What about you? Can you stand it?”

“I’m nearly finished.”

Julia returned through the front door and latched it from the inside. She set the bowl on a table near the sofa and then lifted James’ head, propping him up with pillows. “Dr. McGrath…” she murmured, shaking his shoulder to wake him. “Doctor, you need to eat something.”

It took several minutes to stir him into consciousness. He moaned and groped with one hand to feel the compress covering his eyes.

“Leave it there,” she said, pulling his hand away. “Your hands are trembling. I’ll feed you.” She breathed a sigh of relief when he didn’t argue. Neither of them spoke while she spooned soup into his mouth. “Would you like more?” she asked when it was gone.

“No,” he said with a weary groan. “I have to go back to work. Bring me some strong coffee.”

“All right,” she said, removing the cushions from behind his head. “I’ll be right back with some. Rest for another minute.”

But James quickly passed out from exhaustion again, as she suspected he would. Julia removed his shoes and socks, then gently brushed his hair off his forehead.

“If you’re seeking atonement, James McGrath, you’ve paid for it,” she murmured. “You’ve been to hell.”

For the next two hours, Julia helped the other women distribute soup to the wounded men outside. When everyone had their fill, they loaded the wagon to move on to the next field hospital. Extra nurses were needed here, but Julia knew this was not the place where she should stay and work.

As they drove past the farmhouse, she caught a glimpse of Dr. McGrath standing on the back porch, calling for another patient. His clean shirt was already splattered with blood.

Phoebe stood outside the farmhouse, eating a slice of bread that the lady volunteers had left behind for the doctors and nurses. The sun was going down, and she couldn’t remember eating much all day. It tasted like a bite of heaven.

“Phoebe?”

She turned and saw Dr. McGrath leaning against the back door.

“Is there more of that bread somewhere?” he asked.

“Here,” she said, handing him a fresh loaf. “They left a whole bunch. Help yourself.”

“Thanks.” He tore off a piece and chewed slowly, gazing into the distance at the farmer’s trampled wheat field and the low hills beyond. Phoebe thought she’d never seen a man look so weary and still be standing.

“We’re leaving tomorrow,” he said after swallowing. “Our orders just came. General Meade is going to pursue Lee’s army, and since he’s expecting a fight, he has decided to take most of the army’s surgeons along. Only about a hundred or so will stay behind.”

“That’s not very many doctors for all these men.”

“No. It’s not. They’re saying there might be as many as twenty thousand casualties here.”

Phoebe shook her head, unable to comprehend such a number. She knew that her old regiment had taken part in the fighting at Gettysburg, and she longed to search among the dead and wounded for Ted. But with so many thousands, it was like searching for a needle in a haystack. It had been nearly a year since she’d last seen Ted. She wondered if she would ever see him again.

“I’ll leave it up to you to decide if you want to come with me tomorrow or stay here to help,” Dr. McGrath said. “Once the rail lines are restored, the injured will be evacuated to Baltimore and Washington. You can work at Fairfield Hospital if you’d like.”

Phoebe thought about it for a moment. She was afraid that the other doctors would never let an uneducated backwoods gal like her be their nurse. “No, I’ll go with you, Dr. McGrath.”

He nodded absently and tore off another piece of bread.

“Some Confederate doctors stayed behind with their men,” Phoebe said after a moment. “What will happen to them? Are they prisoners now?”

“I don’t know.” He shrugged, then went back inside.

The summer sky seemed to stay light a long time after sunset as Phoebe stood in the yard, thinking about Dr. Daniel Morrison from Berkeley County. There were a lot of things in her little Bible that she still didn’t understand, but there was no mistaking the Lord’s command to love your enemies. She sighed and picked up one of the loaves of bread, knowing where she was most likely to find the Rebel doctor.

“Dr. Morrison?”

He had been kneeling beside a patient, but he quickly stood at the sound of her voice and swept off his hat. “Evening, ma’am.”

She had to look up to see his face. “I thought you might like some bread before it was all gone.”

“Thank you kindly. Will you have some with me?”

“No, go ahead. I already ate mine.” She fidgeted awkwardly, staring down at her shoes. “I’m leaving tomorrow,” she finally said. “I’ve come to say good-bye …and to tell you that I’m sorry I wasn’t very friendly yesterday. It’s just that …the Rebels killed my brother Willard. I know it wasn’t your fault. I got no right to hate you for it.”

“That’s okay, Phoebe. I understand.”

She exhaled in relief. “I was also wondering what was gonna happen to you. Are the Yankees gonna let you go when you’re finished here, or will you have to go to prison?”

He shrugged. “They haven’t told me yet. I hear there are several thousand wounded Rebel prisoners here in Gettysburg besides my own men. Guess if I have a choice, I’ll stay with them.”

“Well, I wish you luck, Doctor.”

“Thanks. It has been a pleasure making your acquaintance.” He stuck out his hand to shake hers. “If you’re ever in Berkeley County when this war’s over, you come see me, okay?”

She nodded and then looked up at him again. “My last name’s Bigelow. I’m from Bone Hollow. It’s right next door in Morgan County.”

He smiled broadly. “It sure is. Maybe our paths will cross again, Phoebe Bigelow—God willing.”

Julia walked down the long path between the rows of tents, searching for Nathaniel. The July afternoon was sweltering, and she unfastened the top button of her dress as she walked, then rolled up the long sleeves. Her mother would scold her for exposing her fair skin to the sun, but it was impossible to carry a parasol while nursing sick patients. Better to let her skin darken than to faint from the heat.

She finally found Nathaniel crouched beside the last tent, pounding in a stake. She paused to watch him. His bare forearms were tanned from the summer sun and dappled with freckles; his golden hair was bleached a shade lighter than usual. He stood and grabbed the tent pole in his fist, shaking it slightly to test it. He was a fine-looking man.

“Nathaniel!” she called.

He looked up and smiled when he saw her. She had scarcely talked to him in the three weeks they’d been in Gettysburg. The Commission’s male and female volunteers had been housed at separate tent sites, and she and Nathaniel had worked at different tasks during the day. When the badly needed medical tents had finally arrived, he and the other men labored for a week to set them up. The new field hospital had six rows of tents with four hundred tents in each row. Each tent could hold twelve patients.

The wounded had been collected from temporary hospitals all over Gettysburg, including the church where Julia had been nursing. The line of stretchers was a mile and a half long as volunteers transported the soldiers to the new hospital.

“I got your message,” she said. “You wanted to see me?”

“We’re finished here,” he said, gesturing to the tent. “Our group is returning to Philadelphia tomorrow. Can you help me spread the word among all the ladies so everyone will be ready to leave?”

Julia had already accepted an assignment at the new hospital, caring for two dozen gravely ill men. She had been dreading the day she would have to tell Nathaniel, unsure of his reaction. “I’m not going with you,” she said quietly.

He folded his arms across his chest, his face turned to stone. “Don’t do this to me, Julia.”

“I need to stay. There is still a terrible shortage of doctors and nurses. I can help save lives. I know how to dress wounds and which warning signs to watch for. There are so few experienced nurses. I’m needed here.”

“You came with the Commission. It’s my responsibility to see you safely home.”

“And what will I do once I’m there? Did you ever stop and think about that? How can I sit around sipping afternoon tea when people are dying?”

“Your father entrusted you to my care. What am I supposed to tell him?”

“The truth—that I defied both of you and stayed behind. I’ll write him a note if you’d like.”

He ran his fingers through his thick hair and exhaled angrily. “You’re making a mistake. Scripture clearly says that we are to honor our father and mother—”

“Stop it, Nathaniel. You know as well as I do that the Lord’s greatest commandments are to love God and love our neighbor. I’d be committing a much greater sin if I turned my back on men in need so that I could sit in a comfortable church pew in Philadelphia.”

Nathaniel paced angrily in front of the empty tent. He looked as though he wanted to smash something. “You force me to have such conflicting feelings, Julia. I admire you so much. I don’t know how you do this work. I can barely stand to see these pitiful souls. And the smell …What you do is remarkable.” He stopped pacing and turned to her, pleading with her. “But you’re going to be my wife. Can you understand that I feel protective of you? That I want you to be safe and sheltered?”

“Yes, of course I do.” She rested her hand on his arm to soothe him. “But I’m quite safe here. There are other Christian Commission volunteers from other cities who are staying longer—”

“That’s not the point,” he said, shrugging her hand away. “I know that our engagement isn’t official. I have no right to demand that you return to Philadelphia with me. I understand why you want to stay. … ”

“Then why are you so angry with me?”

He began pacing again. “This isn’t easy to say …without sounding like I’m…”He exhaled angrily.

Julia had heard his blunt opinion of her two years ago after Bull Run. Anything he said now couldn’t possibly be as devastating as that had been. “Just tell me,” she said.

He hesitated. “You are a very strong-willed woman, Julia.”

She almost smiled. It felt like a compliment. “These times call for strength,” she said quietly. “I’ve talked to some of the women in this community, and I’ve learned that the war has forced them to do all manner of things in their husbands’ absences—plow fields, run their shops and businesses…”

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