OnlyYou (11 page)

Out of nowhere, Henry dashed toward them, immediately
grabbing Eileen’s forearms. “Mrs. Washington needs you over there.”

Eileen’s eyes lit up the moment he touched her. Kaitlyn
watched as her friend fluttered her eyelids nervously and asked, “Have you seen
my brother?”

The young man nodded and smiled sympathetically. “He is no
worse for the wear.”

Kaitlyn’s heart leapt in her chest. “Can you take me to
him?” she asked, her eyes frantically searching the crowd.

He nodded again and pointed Eileen in the direction of the
general’s wife. Taking Kaitlyn by the arm, he wove in and out of the throng of
people.

Her lungs seemed to collapse in on themselves as the moans
from wounded men and the acrid smell of blood assaulted her senses. Her mind
whirled, unable to fully take in the brutal reality surrounding her.

Peering over the heads of those around her, she finally spotted
Gabriel standing several yards away. He stood a full head taller than the men
around him, adding to his commanding appearance. As they moved closer, she
could see the dirt smeared on his face and shirt. His expression was taut, his
lips grimly set.

Henry finally managed to pull her through the milling crowd,
stopping in front of Gabriel.

Gabriel took one look at her and frowned, his eyes dark
under furrowed brows. Casting his eyes to Henry as he sat down on a wooden
crate behind him, he coldly ordered, “Get her out of here.”

Kaitlyn’s spine stiffened in indignation. She released her
hold on Henry’s arm and stared down at Gabriel, allowing her annoyance to show
through.

Someone shouted Henry’s name and the young man shrugged, his
lips turning up into a knowing grin. “Sorry, Captain,” he said as he turned his
back and walked away.

Gabriel glared at her, his eyes glowing with a mixture of
disapproval and concern. She met his stare, her chin turned defiantly upward.

“You should not be here.” His vexation was apparent as a
shadow of annoyance crossed his face.

Kaitlyn opened her mouth to tell him exactly what she
thought of his callous behavior when the sound of ripping fabric to Gabriel’s
left caught her attention. She glanced down and saw a middle-aged man dressed
in civilian clothes sitting on a little wooden stool beside Gabriel.

The man was tearing the sleeve of Gabriel’s sweaty, soiled
shirt. It was then that she noticed the rust-colored stain on his arm. She
gasped as the man ripped the stained sleeve in two, all the way up to the
shoulder seam and exposed the gaping hole in Gabriel’s biceps.

She fell to her knees in front of Gabriel and looked up at
him, her hands shaking. “You’re hurt!” she stated, her body stiffening in
shock.

He grabbed her hand with his, giving it a firm squeeze. “I
will be fine,” he said, his voice unyielding.

She wanted to scream at him for leaving her, to scold him
for going into battle and getting himself wounded—anything to release the fear
and anger rising within her. But the words seemed to get caught in her throat
as she felt tears stinging at her eyes.

“Here, Captain,” the man said, handing Gabriel what appeared
to be a pewter flask. “Take a couple of long drinks.”

“You should be caring for the others, Dr. Johnson,” Gabriel
insisted with a shake of his head. “My wound is not urgent.”

“If you would drink this and hold still, I will be able to
finish with you and go on to the more critically wounded.”

Gabriel released her hand and reluctantly accepted the
flask, tipping his head back to take a couple of long swigs from the container.
Handing it back, he looked down at Kaitlyn and grabbed her hand again.

Smelling the whiskey on his breath as he exhaled, she
glanced back and forth between his face and his wound, watching the doctor quickly
clean the excess blood from Gabriel’s arm. Her stomach churned and her mouth
dropped open at the ghastly opening in his skin. It was a small hole with clean
edges but that didn’t matter to her. He was wounded and she knew too much about
the medical practices of Colonial America to be comforted by anything the
doctor was about to do.

The doctor pulled a small instrument out of his black bag
and began poking at the wound. Kaitlyn gasped again, wanting to look away but
somehow frozen to the spot. Suddenly, Gabriel’s lips were upon hers, gentle but
firm. Her trance was broken and she turned as he pulled away from her.

“Look at me, Katie,” he commanded with authority.

She nodded and trained her eyes to his face, on guard for
the slightest wince or pained expression. After a few agonizing moments, she
heard the plunking sound of metal on metal and turned to see a tiny, bloody,
lead ball rolling around in a small tin bowl.

Awestruck, Kaitlyn turned her attention back to Gabriel. Not
a muscle on his face had moved during the whole procedure. “Are you all right?”
she asked anxiously, unconsciously stroking his uninjured arm with her free
hand.

He nodded and she sighed with relief, offering him a weak
smile. The break from her tension was short-lived however.

“Madam, have you ever sewn up a wound?” the doctor asked.

Her eyes warily darted toward him. The man was obviously
insane. “No,” she slowly answered as she watched him thread a tiny needle with
thick, cream-colored thread.

The man peered over the top of his spectacles at her. “You
do know how to sew, madam?”

She nodded, feeling her heart leap into her throat. She
glanced at Gabriel who cocked one eyebrow at her, indicating his mistrust in
her sewing skills.

Irked by his mocking expression, she gave her full attention
to the doctor, determined to prove Gabriel wrong. She listened carefully to the
doctor’s instructions, only looking directly at the wound when he pointed to
it. When he finished his explanation, he handed her the needle and thread and
began to pack up his black bag.

As soon as the needle was between her fingers, she began to
panic. “I-I-I can’t do this,” she softly said, shaking her head vigorously.

“Madam, you simply must,” the doctor stated, pushing his
glasses up onto the bridge of his nose with his thick index finger. “I have
many more men I need to attend to and time is of the utmost importance.”

She shook her head again, immediately feeling guilty for her
cowardice. “I don’t think—”

“You can do this, Katie,” Gabriel quietly insisted as he
grabbed her chin and forced her to look at him.

The doctor arose and handed her a small pair of scissors
before disappearing into the noisy crowd around them.

She stared down at the needle and scissors in her hand,
aghast at what she was being required to do. Sewing linen was one thing—flesh
was quite another. Her stomach began doing flip-flops and she sat back on her
heels, inhaling deeply to allow the nausea to pass.

“You have to do this,” Gabriel said, his voice firm and
final.

She shook her head, determined to make him understand her
reluctance. “I’ll hurt you.”

“I will survive,” he replied nonchalantly. “I have suffered
worse.”

Kaitlyn looked up at him, immediately distracted from her
task. “You have?”

He nodded and lifted his shirt, showing her a long, jagged
scar running down his side toward his abdomen. Her hand shook as she reached
out and lightly traced the length of it with her fingertip. She hadn’t noticed
it during the night they had spent together since the room had been quite dark
except for the moonlight. Her heart immediately began to ache at the thought of
him lying in a field somewhere, bleeding and in pain.

He leaned toward her and whispered into her ear, “I have
another scar from a bullet wound on my right thigh but I will wait until we are
alone to reveal it to you.”

Kaitlyn rolled her eyes, attempting to draw his attention
away from the blush she could feel creeping into her cheeks. She saw him wince
slightly as he shifted his weight and she was immediately reminded of the task
at hand. She took a deep breath and steeled herself as she straightened her
back and moved toward his arm.

She simply couldn’t stick a needle into this man. Especially
one that was most likely crawling with hundreds of different types of
infectious agents.

But how on earth was she supposed to sterilize anything in
this chaos? Water would take too long to boil and there wasn’t a bottle of
rubbing alcohol or hydrogen peroxide in sight.

She looked around frantically. There had to be something she
could use. Her eyes landed upon a campfire just a few feet away. Would some
sort of heat kill any potential pathogens on the needle?

It was better than nothing, she finally decided. As long as
she didn’t burn her fingers off while trying.

“Hold on a minute,” Kaitlyn said to Gabriel as she hopped up
and ran over to the campfire. Holding the needle at the far end, she passed the
point several times through a small flame toward the edge of the campfire.

She silently prayed that the heat from the fire had done the
trick and quickly made her way back to Gabriel’s side.

“What the hell were you doing, woman?” he asked, cocking one
of his eyebrows. The look on his face suggested that he thought she had just
gone completely looney.

She narrowed her eyes and stared at him. “Look, now’s not
the time to explain germ theory to you, okay? Just trust me. Dirty needles can
cause infection.”

The look on his face softened and he nodded. “All right.”

She touched the tip of the needle to his skin, right above
the wound. Tears began to fill her eyes and her hand flew to her mouth to trap
the sobs that were threatening to spill forth. She couldn’t do this. She just
couldn’t.

“Hey, now, love,” he crooned, wiping one of her eyes with
his thumb. “You are liable to sew your finger to my arm with these tears blinding
you.”

Half sobbing, half laughing, Kaitlyn wiped her other eye
with the back of her hand and took several deep breaths in order to regain
control. His humor filled her with warmth and his concern for her, rather than
for his own discomfort, inspired her to do the same.

But what she wouldn’t give for some antiseptic or a trained
twenty-first-century medical professional at that moment. What if the needle
carried a horrible rotting flesh disease or she sewed through a nerve in his
biceps that paralyzed his arm? The cacophony of worst-case scenarios spinning
through her head started to become a blur. She had to get ahold of herself.
Gabriel needed her.

Inhaling once more, she bent her head to the task and sank
the needle into his flesh. The feel of the needle sliding into the skin caused
bile to rise in her throat. She swallowed hard and attempted to detach herself
emotionally from the task and ignore the alien feelings in her fingers.

After several torturous minutes, Kaitlyn was able to knot
the thread and snip it with the scissors. Sitting back on her heels once again,
she heaved a sigh of relief as she tried to push aside the feelings of her
stomach still roiling inside her abdomen.

“Gabriel!” came Eileen’s voice from somewhere behind her.

Eileen dropped a pile of bandages beside Kaitlyn and gave
her brother a hearty kiss on the cheek. “Thank heavens you are not terribly
injured! Mama will still be beside herself, of course but—”

“We will not be telling Mother,” Gabriel instructed with
grim determination, his tone leaving no room for argument. “I am fine. She need
not know about this.”

Eileen’s shoulders sank as she gazed at him, worry evident
in her brow. “And if it becomes infected like last time? You almost died,
Gabriel.”

“Enough,” he grumbled, casting a quick glance at Kaitlyn who
immediately tore her watery eyes from his.

Gabriel was impressed with Kaitlyn’s fortitude. She had
stayed with him, even though he practically demanded she leave. He had not
wanted her anywhere near the aftermath of this battle. He knew she was not used
to such sights and felt the need to protect her, thinking she would not be able
to handle the violent images. But she rose to the occasion and proved him
wrong. She put aside her own fears to sew up his wound, despite her obvious
reluctance. Yes, he had to coax her into it but he knew she was strong enough
to handle it when she did not run away from his injury. Instead she dropped to
her knees before him, her face filled with compassion and fear.

Eileen began bandaging his arm. The pain was already
starting to subside into a dull throb. He kept his eyes on Kaitlyn who was
staring at her bloodied hands lying motionless in her lap. His heart felt full
as he gazed at her, watching the fascinating play of emotions across her face.

Within minutes, Eileen had finished the bandages and had
fashioned a sling for his arm. Gathering up her things, she gave Kaitlyn an
affectionate rub on the back before heading off to perform the task for another
wounded man.

Gabriel and Kaitlyn sat in silence, barely aware of the
chaos surrounding them. He eyed her warily as her eyes widened in fear and her
skin took on a sickly pallor. The moment her hand flew to her mouth, he sprang
into action.

He lifted her by her elbow with his good arm, determined to
save her the embarrassment of becoming ill in front of everyone. “Just hold on,
love,” he said, as he took her by the hand and began leading her through the
crowd toward the grove of trees near the house.

As soon as they reached the shelter of the trees, Kaitlyn
fell to her knees. Grabbing her hair and pulling it back, she lurched forward
and began vomiting onto the ground. Gabriel crouched down beside her, rubbing
her back as her body became afflicted with heave after heave.

After several minutes, Kaitlyn fell back onto her heels,
feeling emotionally and physically spent. She watched as Gabriel pulled his
shirt over his head and injured arm. He then flipped it around until he found a
relatively clean spot and mopped her brow with it.