Fated Memories (17 page)

Rory never came back. It took the whole morning to finish the cleaning and wound treatment for all forty patients, leaving the women exhausted and starving. Again, it was Sloan who directed them to the mess hall for dinner.

***

Maggie and Kitty found an empty table in the cafeteria where they could savor their meal in peace. The two male attendants who took the seats across from them at the table, though, soon squashed that plan.

“Good afternoon ladies, I hope you don’t mind us joining you, the seating here is limited as you can see.”

Maggie gave a polite, but short, answer. “No, of course not, enjoy your dinner.”

The outspoken one put his hand out first to Maggie and then to Kitty, introducing himself and his cohort. “My name is Pete Yeager ma’am, and my cousin here is John Donnelly. We’re both of us from Boston, here with the First Massachusetts.”

Kitty sized them up at about average height for the time, in their low-to-mid-twenties, with fresh, eager faces and upturned noses that showed a family resemblance. The Boston part she caught right away from the accent. “Nice to meet you, gentlemen. My name is Kitty Trausch, and this is my sister-in-law Maggie Reiger. I hope you don’t think us rude, but we’ve had a difficult morning and we’re just looking for peace and quiet.”

“Oh yeah sure, I get it, we just haven’t seen you around here before and wanted to say hello is all. So are you ladies from Washington?”

“No, Pennsylvania.”

The conversation went on that way the whole time. Either Kitty or Maggie gave one-word answers to the incessant questions while they scarfed down their food. It was nice that the soldiers were trying to be friendly and welcoming, but the women had asked for peace and quiet.

***

Later that afternoon, Kitty spied Rory coming out of the linen closet with one of the male attendants, both of them looking flushed. Rory, you ignorant slut, is that why the linen closets are locked instead of the medicine closets?

They emerged with perfect timing as the attending, Doctor Moorfield, came on to the ward. “Nurse Blandford, where is the logbook for this ward? I need to examine it.”

Maggie and Kitty were on the same wavelength as their eyes grew wide with recognition and they turned to each other giggling and whispering. “Nurse Blandford? Rory short for Aurora? Holy crap, old man Blandford’s daughter’s a whore!” They got stunned, blank stares as they went into their high-five, fist-bumping routine, but this long awaited validation helped restore their spirits and renew their energy.

Since they had completed most of the necessary tasks that morning, aside from dispensing a little more morphine where needed, they spent the afternoon relaxing and socializing. The soldiers weren’t sick, only injured, and bored with having to lie around all day. Experience taught them that boredom led to depression and restlessness, which undermined the patients’ attitudes and delayed healthy recovery. As at Camp Curtin, they read to them, helped write letters and sang songs with, and for them. To lighten the mood, they encouraged the men to sing along with the popular songs everyone knew and the women had learned in camp. It turned out that Rory had talents for outside the linen closet as she strummed a guitar and sang songs in a clear and pleasant voice.

Weeks dragged by with the same routine. They’d seen Rory coming out of the linen closet several times, always with someone different, eliciting secret snickers from both of them. Each discharged patient felt like a personal triumph, but new admissions never lagged. For their after-dinner breaks, they found a quiet bench that overlooked the bay to enjoy the view and the clean smell of the salty spray. But they worried over Simon and their friends on the battlefield and prayed to whoever was listening for their safe return. Though there’d been rumors of battles, they still held their breath waiting for news of his unit.

***

Early one morning Kitty awoke to the sound of Maggie retching her guts out into the chamber pot. “Mags, are you okay? Do you need something?” The only response from that side of the room was more heaving. She rushed to help hold Maggie’s long hair out of the way. “Maggie, have you gotten your period yet?”

She flung herself back on the bed panting from the effort of emptying her stomach. “No, not yet.”

“Woo hoo!” Kitty jumped up, danced around the room, and did a poor imitation of a moon walk. “I’m going to be an aunt, me, Aunty Kitty. We’re going to spoil the crap out of this kid.”

Another round of puking left Maggie curled up on her bed, crying. “I wish I could be as happy about this as you. Do you realize that women die in childbirth all the time here? What if I need a Cesarean? Do they even do that now? And what if Simon gets killed or maimed, how will we live?”

That brought Kitty back to reality.
Shit, I hadn’t thought about any of that.
Even if Simon fought in the army at home, they’d still have family and friends nearby for support. They were completely on their own here. Since she’d never had a child herself, the thought of complications had never occurred to her. Could fate really be that cruel?

Kitty knelt by her bed and rested her head on the pillow beside Maggie’s, her arm draped around her shoulders. “I won’t let you die, Mags. We’re fighters, remember? And fighters never quit. I’ll always be here for you, no matter what.” She sat up and smoothed the hair from her face. “You stay here and rest and I’ll bring you something to eat later. There’s water here in the jug if you want it.” Kitty poured out a cupful and put it on the night table next to the bed.

Late for work, Kitty rushed out the door with one nagging thought on her mind. I sure hope Simon is okay, and that he makes it back safe. And soon.

***

Without Maggie, the workload doubled and, as usual, Rory disappeared when Kitty needed her the most. Sloane, though, helped a lot. Kitty had shown him how to change the dressings, what to look for, and to alert her if he saw something that needed treatment.

Kitty stood in the linen closet trying to find clean sheets when she heard the door latch closed behind her. As she turned to make sure it didn’t lock her in, she found John Donnelly standing against the door watching her.

Spooked by his sudden appearance, she reached for the closest stack of linens, and cradled them in her arms. “Oh, hi, Mr. Donnelly, could you please open that door? These have to go out to the ward.”

In a flash he’d crossed the small gap between them and had her back pinned against the shelf. With his hand at her throat and the stack of towels in her arms squished between them, Kitty couldn’t move.

“No.”

Spinning her around and shoving her against the shelves, Donnelly pressed up against her to hold her in place while he fumbled trying to hike up her skirt, his onion laced breath hot on her neck.

Though the struggle had started off in his favor, the advantage shifted. Kitty shoved the towels onto the shelf and elbowed back hard with a good shot to his ribs. The blow forced him back a step, giving her space to turn and launch her knee into his groin in one swift move. As he jerked forward, grimacing and holding his injured crotch, she forced his head down and rammed her knee into his face. “I did not give you permission to touch me.”

Sloane heard the scuffle and yanked open the closet door just in time for Donnelly to collapse unconscious at his feet. Kitty tiptoed over him with the armful of sheets she’d come for in the first place.

“Are you all right, Miss?”

“Yes, Sloane, I’m fine. He’s not though. Could you please help Mr. Donnelly off this ward?”
And into an open ditch.

Sloane’s face shone with amusement. “Yes Miss, whatever you say.”

Concerned for Maggie’s safety, Kitty told her later that night about the incident in the closet. She had to make her aware that the two guys who kept showing up at dinnertime were not as friendly as they seemed and to make sure she stayed out of the linen closet. Apparently anyone in there was fair game.

“I don’t understand what it is with men named John here,” she whined. “Gruber tries to force you to marry him, Donnelly tries to rape you and…” Without thinking, her hand stroked her face where Leahy had beaten her. “You be careful, too, Kitty. Some men are just ruthless.”

***

Mail call, that illusionary contact with home, always brought smiles to the patients’ faces. The few illiterate soldiers listened with rapt attention while they read the letters to them with reassurances of a patiently waiting lover, news of spring plantings or Uncle Harold’s piles. Sometimes they’d ask the nurses to read them over again, their faces wistful, as if imagining the author writing the words. Then, the replies transcribed, and envelopes addressed, the nurses made sure they got posted.

After dinner, Maggie showed Kitty a letter she’d received that day from Simon. She’d waited until they were together and alone before opening it, in part because she knew Kitty wanted to hear what he said, but, also because she feared it might contain bad news. They sat on their peaceful bench, overlooking the bay as Maggie read the letter aloud.

“My dear Maggie and Kitty,

Knowing how much you worry, I’ll tell you first off that I’m fine and so are all of our friends. You may hate me for it right now, but I’m sure I made the right decision having you two stay behind at Fort Monroe. It was absolute torture slogging through the mud and muck for a week, and I’m glad you didn’t have to go through it. You’ve both been through so much already and I can’t tell you how grateful I am for all your support.

Even the best battle plans are fluid and this one is no exception. Instead of taking the direct route to Richmond as planned, McClellan has made a stand at Yorktown. I don’t know how long this siege will continue, so I want to prepare you that it may be a few more weeks or even months before I get back. But I will be back.

Lulu misses you both and sends her love.

I haven’t held you in my arms for weeks Mags, so I’m sure you can imagine how I’m feeling right now and I’d prefer you keep the rest of this letter to yourself…

Love,

Simon”

Maggie read the rest of the letter with silent trembling lips, while the word ‘months’ reverberated in Kitty’s mind. Would he even be back in time to be with Maggie when she had the baby? She’d be there to help her, of course, but she’s no substitute for her husband.

Maggie dabbed tears from her eyes, her face transforming into a mask of false bravery. “Well, so far so good. At least they’re still in one piece.”

After working in the post-op ward it was interesting to Kitty how, in war time, any war time, that simple statement could be taken literally.

***

Just as Rory had predicted, once the siege at Yorktown got under way, their ward was inundated with new casualties every day, most of them Union soldiers, but others were Confederate prisoners of war who needed medical treatment as well. Though given humanitarian care and medical treatment, the prisoners stayed confined under guard to their own isolated ward. 

Other nurses and orderlies they’d met complained that many of their patients had developed severe infections and fevers. The doctors then gave instructions to move them to isolation wards to stem the spread of the illness. Ignorant of the concept that germs and bacteria were the culprits, the doctors reasoned that the ‘malady’ had to be airborne and thus required isolation. As with everywhere else they’d been, their preaching of hygienic and antiseptic care drew only polite nods. But the fact remained that few of the soldiers on their ward developed such severe fevers, or met the hospital standard for isolation. Kitty boasted that their ward had a recovery rate at least double that of any other. She tried to use that statistic to show the wisdom of such treatment, but to no avail.

Mrs. Dickson, the head nurse, made her rounds every afternoon to make sure the wards were in order, and to give the patient and supply logs a cursory check. A strict, no-nonsense woman, she kept her visits brief, and to the point allowing the staff to get on with their afternoon social activities. So when Kitty saw her lingering over the supply book, and double-checking the medicine closet, it worried her.
Crap, I thought I’d been keeping good records, I hope I didn’t screw up somewhere.

“Mrs. Dickson, can I help you with something?”

“Yes Madam, you can tell me what happened to the large stock of iodine you ordered for this ward?” Without warning, she thrust the log book up to Kitty’s face to see the order entry. “There’s only half this much in the closet, the rest seems to be missing. Have you been misappropriating government supplies, Miss Trausch?” 

“It isn’t missing Mrs. Dickson, we’ve used it. These patients came in here with infected wounds and I’ve been applying the iodine as an antiseptic to stop the spread and worsening of the infection. It’s been working, too.”

When she saw Mrs. Dickson’s crass assault with the log book, Maggie came to where they were standing for support. “She’s right Mrs. Dickson, look at our statistics. This ward has the fewest number of patients requiring isolation than any other. By using antiseptic on the wounds, it makes a huge difference in their recovery.”

“Are you a doctor now Mrs. Reiger or a…”  The way Mrs. Dickson stopped mid-sentence and stared at her, made Maggie uncomfortable. “You’re with child aren’t you?” It wasn’t so much a question as a statement of fact.