Angel of the Somme: The Great War, Book 1 (12 page)

Chapter Sixteen

Lily sat beside Gordy’s wheelchair in the fading light of the day room. It was close enough to supper that no patients were about. Their only company was a VAD who was busy lighting the gas lamps and pulling down the blackout curtains.

Lily pitched her voice low, conspiratorial. “It’s not that I dislike your idea, Gordy. It just seems a little risky.”

“Psshaw.” Gordy shook his head. Upon seeing that familiar motion, free of shell shock, she felt a flash of pride in him. “You’ll not even leave the grounds, Bluebird! You’re not breaking rules, technically. You’re simply helping a patient. That’s what VADs are supposed to do, aren’t they? Help patients.”

She nodded reluctantly. “Within the rules, yes. And your scheme breaks a few of them.” She twisted her hands together in her lap. “And I could get in a lot of trouble if someone were to see us.”

“But like I said, nobody’s going to.”

“And you know this—how?”

“Because Rosebud is assigned to the officers’ ward tonight and I know for a fact that she’s going to be busy.” Gordy shifted in his wheelchair.

Lily gave him a skeptical look.

Gordy took a steadying breath. “I’ve gone to a great deal of effort and expense to get a bottle of plonk smuggled in from the village. I aim to make Rosebud’s evening shift a little more romantic.”

Lily laughed. “Oh, Gordy, you devil. You seemed so shy during your blanket bath too.”

“Oh, that shy stuff’s all an act.” He gave her his best wicked grin which looked fantastically out of place on his innocent face.

She considered him, sitting before her looking so earnest.

“Listen, Sam’s bed is right next to mine. There’s not much I miss. I know what happened between you after his last seizure. The night you made him promise to be on his best behavior.”

Lily felt a twinge of guilt. “Never mind scolding you for listening in. I know it wouldn’t do any good. But you must know that I insisted on his word for his own good!”

“Oh, I know that. He does too. But still, he fulfilled his bit of the bargain. Stayed indoors while all of us went to the garden, took in that concert last night. He deserves a bit of a reward, don’t you think? Just an hour, walking around in the garden—that’s all I ask. I know he can’t be out in the sun, but a moonlight stroll will go such a long way to mending his spirits.”

The idea sounded heavenly, Lily had to admit. But she’d never been much for going against the rules, even when it came to medical issues, never mind a moonlit rendezvous. Gordy continued to give her his most heartfelt stare.

“Do you really think it would make that much of a difference?” she asked.

“I know it will.” Gordy’s eyes shone with sincerity. “Earlier today he looked out the window so longingly, I thought it would break my heart.”

“Oh, now you’re completely over-selling it.” She couldn’t help but laugh. It was one thing to see Gordy wear his heart on his sleeve, but to see it decorated with the hearts of others, Sam’s specifically, felt a little strange.

“So you’ll do it?”

Lily hesitated.

“I suppose I should tell you that I’ve already pretty much arranged things.” Gordy gave her a guilty look. “Just over breakfast, he looked so forlorn that I told him you’d be coming by tonight.”

“Gordy! How could you?”

He lifted his palms to the ceiling. “Because I was certain you wouldn’t say no. You’re far too sweet and kind to disappoint a brave soldier who has given his all for King and country.”

“You’re laying it on too thick again, soldier.”

Gordy sighed and shrugged. “Very well, I’ll tell him you’re cancelling on him. I just hope it doesn’t crush his will to live.”

“Oh, Gordy—you’re relentless.” She held her hands up in mock surrender. “I’ll do it.”

Gordy grinned in triumph. “He’ll be expecting you at midnight. The rest of the ward should be well asleep by then.”

“And you and Rose should be into your second glass of wine?” she asked.

“Something like that,” Gordy said, his grin widening.

Lily slipped onto the silent ward at ten to midnight. Two gas lamps on the wall flickered against the plaster walls, dimly illuminating tidy rows of sleeping men.

Earlier that afternoon, she’d carefully tested the wheelchairs before settling on one that was relatively squeakless. For a girl unaccustomed to deception, she felt an inordinate amount of pride over her stealthiness in the matter. She’d never done anything half so daring in her life. Her heart thrummed in her chest like the hoof beats of a buffalo stampede.

She swallowed, steadied her nerves, then pushed the wheelchair toward the corner of the room, as silent as the night itself.

She should have known immediately that something was up when she saw a lumpy shape in Gordy’s bed. Rather than sipping wine with Rose, as he’d planned, somehow he was instead abed, fast asleep and whistling soft snores. How curious.

When she glanced to Sam, she found with dismay that he too was sleeping soundly. His lashes resting against his cheeks. His lips parted in slumber. Her heart sank.

Lily hesitated for a moment, unsure of what to do. Should she just return the chair to the hall and sneak back to bed? That would be the safe bet, the sane thing to do.

On the other hand…she’d already gone to an awful lot of trouble to arrange things. And Gordy had convinced her that Sam needed this—that he was counting on it. And he wasn’t the only one. The thought of being alone with Sam in the garden had been blooming in her mind since Gordy had planted it there—turning her plain day into something extraordinary, ripe with anticipation. Perhaps she needed a nighttime garden visit as much as Sam did.

She reached out to touch Sam’s shoulder and shook him gently.

He blinked at her, his expression startled. Before he could speak, she leaned down to whisper in his ear. “I’m sorry to wake you, but I’m here because of Gordy.”

“Gordy?” His brow creased in concern. “What’s wrong with Gordy?”

“Nothing.” She continued to speak softly into his ear. “Gordy’s fine.”

Sam cocked his head, giving her a most curious expression. She recognized it immediately. It was the look that nurses gave to patients in the throes of a delusion. To find herself on the receiving end of such an expression was a very humbling feeling.

“I’m here to take you on your walk,” she said. “You know? The one Gordy arranged?”

Sam’s narrowed his eyes at her, clearly at a loss for words.

“He…he didn’t? You didn’t?” Lily stammered. “I think…Gordy may have lied to me about something, Sam.”

Sam smiled, his teeth white in the darkened room. “Gordy telling a lie? That I can believe. What’s this all about?”

“Oh good. Bluebird, you’re finally here.” Gordy spoke in a hushed tone. Lily spun around to see the culprit sitting up in bed, wearing an unashamed grin.

Sam rubbed the sleep from his eyes and sat up in bed. “I fear I’m quite behind you both. What is it we’re doing?”

“Lily is here to take you for a walk in the garden, as we talked about.” Gordy emphasized the last four words with something bordering on menace. At least, menacing for Gordy.

“Ah, yes,” Sam said. “I remember now.” He swallowed and gave Lily a lost smile.

Lily couldn’t decide who was the worse liar: Gordy for pretending he wasn’t playing matchmaker or Sam for pretending he had any idea of Gordy’s plans.

She stared down at the wheelchair, stupidly, unsure of what to do. Gordy didn’t let her linger for long.

“Let’s just get you going then,” he whispered as he passed Lily. Before she had a chance to move, Gordy had one arm about Sam and was walking him toward the aisle. Sam settled into the wheelchair, at least having the good grace to look sheepish about the adventure.

Lily pulled the warming blanket from his bedside table. Once she’d tucked the covering around Sam’s legs, she leaned to Gordy and spoke in a low and what she hoped was threatening tone, “You and I will have a little chat about this later.”

Gordy had the cheek to give her an innocent look. “I always look forward to our talks, Miss Curtis.”

Lily snorted. “Please. Now I’m Miss? You really must know you’re in trouble.”

She turned back toward the chair. Just as she began to push it toward the aisle, Gordy leaned over and plopped a small canvas bag onto Sam’s lap. The contents clanked curiously.

Gordy mouthed the word “Cheerio” and gave a jaunty wave.

Lily pushed Sam through the back hall in silence, opening the rear door cautiously. After she wheeled him through the kitchen, she nudged open the back door. A cool breeze greeted her, rustling through her skirt. She navigated the chair down the garden path, toward the southern edge, where the enterprising kitchen staff had turned a cistern into a makeshift fountain. It was crude, with the hose sticking up at an odd angle, but it also held a kind of rustic charm that might appeal to Sam’s farmer sensibilities.

Night had transformed the garden entirely. In the dark, she couldn’t see the high fence around the perimeter, didn’t see the remnants of the bombed out church just beyond. In the darkness, there were only the trellises, the overgrown flower beds and a field of stars overhead.

The water gurgled a pleasant melody as she pulled him up next to the long abandoned herb garden. She leaned over to set his brake, then settled beside him on the bench.

“This is lovely,” he said, glancing around.

“It is.” She nodded awkwardly.

“Cool night,” he added. “It feels nice.”

“It does,” she said.

They sat in stillness. The only sound was the splashing water fountain and the rustle of the willow tree just over the fence.

“You know,” Sam said, at last breaking the silence. “I have the distinct feeling that we’ve been manipulated by a wily Canadian.”

“I hope you’re talking about Gordy and not me,” Lily said.

“Oh, of course. He looks so innocent, you know? But he’s a plotter.”

“I’m looking forward to having a chat with him,” she said. “I can’t believe he’s such an accomplished actor.”

“Much better than I am,” Sam admitted. “You knew right away I had no idea what was going on.”

She nodded. “You are pretty easy to read.” It was one of the things she liked the best about him—his transparency. It was a rare enough quality to find in a person, but to find him, two years into a war and still utterly without guile, seemed like a minor miracle.

“So, what kind of tale did Gordy tell you to convince you to break the rules in such a daring fashion?” He glanced over at her, his blue eyes shining in the starlight. “Not that I mind in the least. I can’t tell you how wonderful it is to be out of doors again.”

“He simply said that you were getting a little crazy being cooped up for so long.”

“Well, that would actually be true enough.” Sam tilted his head and looked up at the stars. As he shifted in the chair, the contents of the bag Gordy had placed on his lap clinked in a curious fashion. Sam looked down.

“I have to admit, though, I’m terribly interested about what’s in this thing.”

“I have an idea,” Lily said. “But I’m a little bit afraid to get confirmation.”

Sam gripped the bag and stood up. When Lily sprang up to assist him, he held up a hand. “I’m only taking four steps to the bench. I’ll be fine.”

Lily settled back down reluctantly. Sam walked to the bench and sat down beside her, placing the canvas bag in her lap with a gentle
thunk
.

“You should do the honors,” he said.

She lifted the canvas flap and peered inside. As she suspected––a bottle of wine and two tin cups. As she fished them out of the bag, she felt a heat spread across her cheeks.

Sam laughed. “Gordy is as subtle as a brick, isn’t he?”

Lily had to smile. “I’d be angry at him, but one of his very maddening traits is that he’s difficult to stay angry at. He’s just so sweet that he’s kind of irresistible.”

“A trait quite common in Canadians, I suppose,” he said with a grin. His dimples winked at her and she looked away.

“Well, I suppose we can’t let a bottle of plonk go to waste. Is there a wine opener in his bag of tricks?”

Lily reached inside and scooped out the remaining item: a standard issue pocket knife.

“The soldier’s bottle opener. This’ll do nicely.” He slid the knife around the edge of the cork, then held the bottle at an angle and popped out the cork with one fluid movement.

“Captain Dwight, you know your way around a bottle of French wine.”

He poured some wine into one of the tin cups and handed it to her. “Well, as soldiers we had to live off the land, and this being France, we often had to forage for plonk.” He filled his cup, then lifted it. “Here’s to…” He looked at her. “What should we toast to, Lily?”

“To war’s end coming soon. To life.”

He clinked the edge of his cup to hers, then paused and gave her the ghost of a smile. “The night before I signed up I gave a very similar toast—in the barn, with my brother and sister. It was the night Lady P escaped, actually.”

Lily wasn’t quite sure what to say, so she took a sip of wine instead. It was sweeter than she’d expected, and when she swallowed, brought a pleasant warmth to her throat. “I suspect you’ll be toasting with your sister again very soon. You haven’t had a seizure incident in nearly a week.”

“I made a promise to a lady,” he said.

She hesitated for a moment. “And are you any nearer to telling me why you caused your last seizure?”

Sam stared down at his feet, lost in thought. Long moments passed before he finally spoke. “I’m sorry, I can’t. If it makes any difference to you, I do wish that I could.”

She had expected as much. He’d gone all week without coming close to divulging the real reason he’d put himself at risk. She supposed she’d have to content herself with the fact that he’d been true to his word in not causing any more. Head injuries could result in all sorts of bizarre behavior when a patient awoke. Usually they settled down after their initial reaction. She had to believe that this would be true in Sam’s case as well.

When she snuck a glance up, he smiled broadly at her. “I have to say. I’m rethinking my opinion of Gordy. Moonlit night, beautiful girl, enjoying a glass—well, cup—of wine. It’s lovely. It’s the most normal I’ve felt in a long, long while.”