Fire by Night (14 page)
“Not until I’m dead. And I’m planning on staying alive for a while.”
Ted’s innocent, boyish expression creased into a frown. Phoebe wanted to take his face in her hands and smooth all the lines away and make him smile again. He had such a nice smile.
“I promise I’ll stand right here and listen to every single word,” she said. But her stomach made a nervous flip as she said it. Ted gave a reluctant nod, and Phoebe watched him saunter forward and sit down. He turned around once to see if she was still there and she gave a little wave.
Phoebe’s mind was a thousand miles away as the service started, and in spite of her promise, she didn’t hear a word the preacher said. She also didn’t notice that one of the men in civilian clothes had ambled up beside her, until he spoke.
“Don’t you want to join all the others, son?” Phoebe nearly jumped out of her skin. “I’m sorry,” he said quickly. “I didn’t mean to startle you.”
“That’s okay. No, I don’t need to sit. I’m fine where I’m at.”
“I’m Nathaniel Greene,” the stranger said, extending his hand. It had freckles all over it. She looked up at his face and saw freckles there, too. It was a handsome, youthful face—one that every girl back home would probably sigh over. Then she noticed his collar.
“Are you a preacher?”
“I’m an ordained minister, yes.”
Phoebe didn’t like preachers. The one in Bone Hollow had taken her aside after school one day and hollered at her for getting into fistfights with the boys. She’d tried to tell him all the awful things they’d said to make her mad, but he didn’t listen. He’d told her that God had rules she needed to follow, like the rules in school. Then he’d admitted that he was in cahoots with Widow Garlock to get Phoebe out of overalls and into a dress.
Nathaniel Greene must have seen a change in Phoebe’s expression because he quickly added, “But I’m not here to preach. I’m here as a volunteer for the Christian Commission. What’s your name?”
“Ike Bigelow.”
“I just like to talk to people, Ike. Answer any questions they might have about God.”
“Well, I have a question.” Her heart galloped with fear but she needed to know if this man was going to give her away. “Does God ever tell preachers things—secret things—about us?”
“I’m not sure I understand. But if you mean does God talk to me the way you and I are talking, then no. The only way I can learn people’s secrets is if they tell me.”
The preacher probably saw her relief and could figure out that she had a real
big
secret, but Phoebe didn’t care. At least she could attend services with Ted from now on without worrying too much.
“I don’t hear ‘confession,”’ he continued. “I’m not a priest. But if you need someone to talk to, I’ll gladly listen and keep it confidential.” When she didn’t reply he asked, “Are you Catholic, by any chance? Because there is a priest—”
“I don’t belong to any church. I do believe in God, though,” she added quickly. “I just feel funny in church, that’s all. I don’t belong there.”
“Where do you like to go to be with God?”
Phoebe looked at him in surprise. His expression was kind, his voice gentle. How had he known that she had a special place?
“Well …there was this spot in the woods back home,” she said slowly. “I always used to go there when I felt bad. It was so pretty with the trees and the creek and all. And after a while I’d start to feel …I don’t know …like I wasn’t all alone. I mean, sure there’s animals and bugs and things, but not just them. Someone bigger than them. It was almost like the person who’d made it all was looking at it with me and enjoying all the pretty things He’d made.”
Greene smiled. “It was God.”
Phoebe shook her head. “Naw, the preacher told me that God lives in a church. That’s His house. He said there’s rules we need to follow or God gets real mad. But I don’t belong in a church. And folks in town didn’t much like me being there.”
“Jesus came down to earth for all the people who feel like they don’t belong anywhere,” the preacher said. “In fact, many of the church members of Jesus’ day refused to believe in Him. But He came to help all the outcasts.”
“How did He help them?”
“He loved them. And He died for them. And His death showed them that God loved them, too.”
Phoebe turned away so he wouldn’t see the tears that suddenly filled her eyes. The idea of love was still new to her, and she couldn’t talk about it, couldn’t even think about it. After feeling friendless and unloved for so long, even the feelings she had toward Ted threatened to overwhelm her most of the time.
“You don’t have to take my word for it,” the preacher said. He took out a pocket-sized Bible and paged through it as he talked. “Here’s a story about a man who didn’t belong. And Jesus shocked all the religious people by going to his house for dinner.” He folded down a corner of the page to mark the place, then handed the book to Phoebe. “You can read it on your own when you have time.”
“When do you need this back?”
“It’s yours. You may keep it.”
“Thanks.”
“You’re welcome. I enjoyed talking with you, Ike. That’s my tent over there. If you have any more questions, you can come see me anytime.”
Phoebe watched Nathaniel Greene stride away, then looked down at the Bible in her hand. She couldn’t believe he had really given it to her to keep. It was the first book she’d ever owned in her life.
On the morning of her appointment with the director of nurses in Washington, Julia stood before the mirror in her hotel suite and removed her earbobs, rings, and other jewelry. Refusing her maid’s help, she pulled her own hair back into a bun, taming the wild, springy curls that everyone said made her look angelic, and pinned it tightly in place without her fancy combs. She scrubbed her face in the porcelain washbasin until it was clean and shiny, then resisted the urge to dab color on her lips and cheeks. By the time she put on the plain brown muslin dress she’d had custom made according to Miss Dix’s standards, Julia barely recognized the woman who stared back at her in the mirror. All of the emblems that identified her as a woman of wealth and class had been removed.
Part of her felt stripped down, as coarse and common as her servant, Inga. But another part of Julia felt free, as if she had shed the spoiled, self-absorbed Julia Hoffman whom she’d grown to dislike. She saw a changed person in the mirror—at least on the outside. Perhaps in time she would become a brand-new person on the inside, too, a person Nathaniel would respect.
“Oh, Julia! What a hideous dress,” her aunt said when she swept in from her adjoining room. “You can’t possibly go out in public in such a thing. It’s a disgrace.”
“This dress is brand-new, Aunt Eunice. And it’s perfectly respectable.”
“Not for a woman of your social position. Why on earth would you wear such an outfit? There’s no lace, no trimmings, not even a decent tuck or a pleat. There can’t be more than five yards of material in that entire dress. And gracious me! No hoops? You look like a common serving girl. People will get the wrong idea about you.”
“You carry on as if I’m stark-naked,” Julia said irritably. “Besides, this is required clothing for nurses.”
“Then I don’t understand why on earth you would want to become one.”
Julia thought of several replies she could give: that
she
couldn’t understand a life like her aunt’s; that a nurse’s life had meaning and purpose; that she was the same person with or without tucks and pleats and hoops. Instead, she said, “We’d better hurry or we’ll be late for our appointment.”
The hotel doorman hailed a cab for them, and they splashed across town through the mud-mired streets to the home of Miss Dorothea Dix. The director of nurses was expecting them. She led them into her dark, tiny parlor, asked them to be seated, and told the serving girl to bring tea.
Miss Dix was in her early sixties, a tall, thin woman with the posture of a general. On the surface, her manner seemed stern and brusque, but Julia thought she saw compassion in her gray eyes when she asked Julia why she had come.
“I would like to apply for a position as an army nurse,” Julia replied.
“How old are you, Miss Hoffman?”
“Almost twenty. But I’ve brought letters of recommendation attesting to my maturity and character, if you’d like to see them.” She retrieved them from her purse and handed them to the nursing director.
Julia and her aunt sat in silence while Miss Dix read them carefully. As she returned the last letter to its envelope, the serving girl arrived with a tray of tea things. Several long, agonizing minutes passed as Miss Dix filled three cups with tea, passed them around, made sure everyone had cream and sugar, then sat down again. Julia set her cup on an end table, unable to wait another moment.
“I know you’ll say I’m too young,” she blurted, “but I want to be a nurse more than anything else.”
“May I ask why, Miss Hoffman?”
“I was a spectator at the Battle of Bull Run, a guest of Congressman Rhodes. I saw wounded men there who needed help, and I didn’t know what to do for them.”
Miss Dix nodded slightly, as if encouraging Julia to continue.
“My cousin Robert is a lieutenant in the Union army. We learned last October that he has been taken prisoner. He gave up everything to do his part for his country, and that’s what I want to do, too. I want to do something for Robert and for other soldiers like him. Our minister back home started a chapter of the Christian Commission in Philadelphia, and when he told us about the need for nurses I felt compelled to help. … It’s hard to explain.”
Miss Dix took a sip of tea, then said, “Most young women your age are settling down with husbands and starting families. Doesn’t that interest you?”
Julia shook her head, suppressing a shudder at the thought of settling down with a man like Arthur Hoyt. “I would like to marry someday,” she said, “but not now. I don’t want to get tied down when there’s work to be done. I want to help our soldiers.”
“Nearly all of my nurses are married,” Miss Dix said, gazing steadily at Julia. “They volunteer because their husbands are at war and they hope to remain near them. I do accept single women as long as they are over thirty years of age. I’ve found that the younger, unmarried women who come to me are almost always curiosity seekers. To be blunt, they come to meet men.”
“I’m not here to find a husband, Miss Dix. My family is wealthy and very active socially. I’ve never lacked for suitors, as my aunt can tell you.” She turned to her aunt for corroboration and discovered that she had dozed off in her chair. Julia wanted to shout
“Hey!Wake up and help me!”
Instead, she exhaled in frustration and turned back to Miss Dix. “I’ve read about the work you’ve done for the underprivileged. How you saw a need and felt compelled to do something about it. Surely you understand how I feel?”
Miss Dix studied her for a long moment. “I believe you are sincere, Miss Hoffman. These letters attest to your outstanding character. But to accept a nurse as young as you are, especially one who is pretty and unmarried, would go against all the rules I have laid down.”
“Please, isn’t there any way you can make an exception?”
She shook her head. “No. I can’t.”
“Please …I beg you.”
“I’m very sorry.”
Julia didn’t dare speak for fear she would cry. The room fell silent except for her aunt’s gentle snoring and the delicate clink of china as Miss Dix sipped her tea. Julia knew she should leave, but her disappointment so immobilized her that she didn’t have the strength to lift her teacup, much less move from her chair.
Miss Dix glanced at Aunt Eunice and smiled slightly. “I know how disappointing it is when things don’t go quite the way you hoped,” she said. “I’ve worked so hard to organize a corps of trained army nurses who will work competently and efficiently …and do you know that there are hospital physicians who bypass my system all the time? Some doctors seem to hate the thought of having a woman in charge, and they take great delight in overruling all my orders.”
Julia looked up. Miss Dix was gazing at her intently, her gray eyes sparking. Julia had the feeling she was trying to tell her something, but she didn’t know what.
“How …how do these doctors overrule your orders?”
“Well, if an individual physician decides to ignore all my rules, he can hire a woman to work directly with him as a nurse in his hospital—and there is really nothing I can do about it.”
“And some doctors do that?”
“Oh yes. All the time. They can ignore my rules and decisions and place anyone they please on record as a regularly enrolled army nurse.”
Julia’s pulse quickened with hope. She glanced at her aunt again to make sure she was still asleep. “I’m sorry to hear that these doctors hire nurses against your wishes. May I ask, is there any doctor in particular who regularly defies you?”
Miss Dix smiled. “I like you, Julia. You remind me of myself— only I wasn’t half as pretty or as privileged as you are. If I had been, I do believe I would have preferred to marry comfortably and raise a family.”
“That might have been nice for you, but it would have been a great loss for our country.”
“Thank you, dear.” She gently set her cup in the saucer and placed them on the tea tray. Then she scooped the letters from her lap and handed them back to Julia. “You are totally unsuitable, Miss Hoffman. You’re young, pretty, and single—everything we do not want in a nurse.” She paused, then added, “Dr. James McGrath would like nothing better than to drive me to distraction by hiring you. He’s crude, unorthodox, and insufferably rude. Very few of the nurses I’ve sent to the hospital he runs in the former Fairfield Hotel can stand to work with him for very long—which is probably why he hires his own nurses.”
Julia repeated the doctor’s name and the name of the hospital to herself, memorizing them.
“More tea?” Miss Dix asked, lifting the teapot. A spoon fell off Julia’s saucer and clattered to the floor. Aunt Eunice’s eyes flew open. She sat blinking at the two women, as if trying to pretend she hadn’t fallen asleep, waiting to slip back into the stream of conversation.
