Hope Rising (2 page)

July 1918

Y
ou’ve become skin and bones since you came here, Evelyn. And no wonder; you eat like a bird.” Alice Thornton waved her fork at the half-empty plate Evelyn had slid aside. “If my mother were here, she’d try to fatten you up. Unlike the hospital cook, apparently.”

Evelyn smiled, despite the queasiness in her stomach. She could imagine Mrs. Thornton—a rotund, matronly version of red-headed Alice—chasing her down with a ladle of stew in hand. Alice talked a lot about her family, particularly her three beanpole brothers who never put on pounds no matter how much they ate, much to their mother’s chagrin.

That wasn’t Evelyn’s problem. The morning sickness that plagued her, even now in the middle of the day, prevented her from stomaching much of any meal. But she certainly didn’t plan on telling Alice that.

Almost of its own volition, her hand rose to rest against the middle of her white nurse’s apron. The tiny life inside her could only be ten weeks along by now, but her own life had been altered just the same. Would anyone else notice her lack of appetite, as Alice had, or her frequent trips to the bathroom?

Alice turned to chat with another nurse seated near them, giving Evelyn a moment to herself. She slipped her hand beneath her apron, into the pocket of her gray crepe dress, and felt the letter tucked there. It brought instant calm as she withdrew the folded slip of paper. Though the letter had arrived less than a week ago, she had Ralph’s words memorized. Still, she liked to see the bold strokes of his handwriting and read the reassurance behind the words he’d penned.

“Did we get mail today?”

Alice’s voice broke into Evelyn’s reverie. Startled, she glanced up in confusion. “Mail?”

Her roommate pointed at the sheet of paper in Evelyn’s grip.

Evelyn quickly folded the letter and shoved it into her pocket, away from Alice’s curious gaze. “Oh, I’m not sure. This is from last week.”

“Is it from your grandparents?”

Though she wanted to answer in the affirmative, Evelyn wouldn’t lie. She hadn’t heard from either her grandmother or her grandfather in several months. Their declining health made returning Evelyn’s missives difficult.

“It’s from a…friend,” she hedged. She steeled herself for more questions, but thankfully Alice accepted the response with a nod.

Evelyn hadn’t yet broached the subject of the baby or her inevitable homecoming in her letters to her grandparents. She’d wait until she and Ralph were married. That way when she told them, she would be breaking the news as a new bride and not an unwed mother. What would that shock do to them? She was hopeful they’d like Ralph—that his charisma would eventually win them over as it had her. The thought of his larger-than-life personality filling the too quiet house where she’d grown up brought a smile to her lips.

“Better hurry up.” Evelyn stood and picked up her plate. “I heard Sister Marcelle is doing a round of ward visits today or tomorrow.”

Alice frowned and scrambled up from the table. “In that case, I’ll skip the rest. Sister Henriette is likely to tell her that I yelled at Sergeant Dennis good and long this morning. But honestly, the man refuses to rest.”

Evelyn’s smile flattened into a frown as she followed Alice to the kitchen. She’d noticed the way Sergeant Dennis watched Alice. The man was clearly captivated by the younger girl and would go to great lengths to garner a response from her—even if it was a good scolding. Evelyn could only hope her roommate would remain blind to the man’s attention. Alice didn’t seem the type to disregard the rule forbidding nurses and soldiers from fraternizing, but then again, Evelyn hadn’t expected to break the rule herself. Not until she’d met Ralph.

A torrent of French greeted them as they set their dishes beside the kitchen’s enormous sink. The hospital cook stood at the back door, shaking her spoon at a dark-headed youngster.

“
S’il vous plaît?
” the boy entreated.

“
Non
pas de pain
,” the cook responded. She slammed the door in the boy’s disheartened face and muttered under her breath. Throwing a pointed look at Evelyn and Alice, she returned to her table and began whacking dough with a stick.

“Come on, Evelyn.” Alice retreated back toward the entrance to the large dining hall. None of the twenty nurses at St. Vincent’s liked spending much time in the kitchen with the cantankerous cook.

“I’ll be along in a minute. You go ahead.”

The moment her roommate left, Evelyn took both the half-nibbled rolls from their plates and discreetly put them into her free pocket. While she might not be able to stomach much food, that didn’t mean someone else should go away hungry. She retraced her steps to the dining hall and let herself out one of the hospital’s rear entrances. A welcoming breeze loosened bits of her dark hair from underneath her nurse’s cap. Evelyn tucked them back and eyed the sky. Gray clouds overhead promised rain.

Before her, the back lawn of the hospital extended long and wide, bordered by forests of beech and oak trees. The hospital itself had originally been a château, rebuilt in the 1860s and bequeathed to the Sisters of Charity. The living quarters for the hospital staff stood to her left in what had once been the orangery and beyond that sat an ancient stone church. Though different from the clapboard building she’d attended as a child, she couldn’t help wondering each time she saw the old building how many weddings, funerals, and services had been held within its rock walls. Would it see another hundred years’ worth of worship and poignant moments or fall, ravaged by the war like so many other towns and villages?

Out of the corner of her eye, Evelyn caught sight of black hair as the beggar boy rounded the hospital. “Wait!
Attendez!
” she called out as she jogged after him. “Please, wait.”

He stopped so suddenly Evelyn nearly ran into him. Large black eyes peered up at her from a dirt-smudged face. They looked neither sad nor angry, but resigned and weary, though the boy couldn’t be more than six years old. That wizened look constricted Evelyn’s heart more than the other signs of poverty about him—the cuts on his shins and the disheveled state of his shirt and trousers.

“
Parlez-vous
Anglais
?
” she inquired. She hoped he spoke English. Her French was still quite rudimentary, despite the months she’d spent in his country as a nurse.

He cocked his head and nodded.

“Wonderful. What’s your name?”

“Loo-ee. Louis Rousseau.”

Evelyn smiled. “
Bonjour
, Louis. I’m Nurse Gray.”

“Got any coffin nails or chocolate?”

She bit back a laugh at the familiar term for cigarettes. “You learned English from some soldiers, didn’t you?”

Louis shook his head. “
Ma grand-mère
taught me the English. But
ma
mère
takes our vegetables into the market and sometimes the Americans buy some. She didn’t sell much yesterday. I was trying to beg some
petit de pain
off that
tête de chou
. That cabbage-headed cook. But she just say ‘
non, non
.’”

The brief glimpse into the boy’s day-to-day life made Evelyn all the more grateful she’d taken the uneaten food to give him. While she understood the cook and her staff had to keep an entire hospital from going hungry, Evelyn still believed a little kindness in these dark times was equally important.

“Tell you what, Louis. I didn’t finish all my bread today and I’d like you to have it.” She removed the rolls, which were slightly squished now, and held them out to him.

His eyes widened as he stared at the bread, then at her.

“Go on. You can have it.”

He carefully took the rolls from her. One he bit into at once, but the other he held in his free hand. “
Ma
mère
can eat this one.
Merci.
”

“You’re welcome.”

A flood of emotion filled her as she watched him lean against the hospital wall to eat the meager meal. He was clearly famished, but he ate the bread slowly. Watching him, her thoughts turned to the life growing inside her.

Perhaps the baby would be a boy—a little dark-haired fellow with an impish glint in his black eyes just like his father. She could imagine her and Ralph and their child, and hopefully the other children that would follow, sitting on the porch of her grandparents’ house—
her house
—laughing and sipping lemonade. The loneliness she’d experienced since her father’s death would disappear, and the large, empty house would be filled with laughter and life and people.

She’d always envied those of her schoolmates with large families and two living parents. While she never doubted the love her father and grandparents felt for her, she still used to pretend she had a whole slew of brothers and sisters—a complete family. Soon, that dream would be realized. Once she and Ralph married, she would be a wife and eventually a mother, with a family of her own.

“Do you have any brothers or sisters?” she asked Louis, reluctant to return indoors. The heat and smells inside the hospital made her nausea worse.

Louis shook his head. “It’s only me and
ma
mère
.”

Did Louis long for more family as she did? “Where’s your father?”

The boy lowered his gaze to the grass. “He was a soldier…but he got killed last year.” His brow pinched with sorrow, the same emotion tugging at Evelyn’s own heart. So many men gone…

Losing her father had been devastating, and she hadn’t been a child. Even now, there were countless moments when she missed him with an intensity that made his death feel as fresh as yesterday. The similarities between her and the young boy poking at the ground with his big toe ran deeper than she would have guessed.

Squatting down in front of Louis, she rested her hands on his thin shoulders. “My father died, too.”

“Was he a brave soldier like
mon
père
?”

“In a way. He was a doctor, so he helped people fight battles of illness and disease.”

Louis lifted his chin to look her in the eye. “How’d he die?”

“His heart stopped working one day.”

“
Et votre
mère?
”

And your mother?
Seventeen years without a mother still hadn’t erased the longing Evelyn felt whenever people asked. “My mother died when I was five years old. But she’d been sick for a long time.” The word
cancer
settled on her tongue, but she swallowed it back. The boy didn’t need to know and probably wouldn’t understand the whole ugly truth about her mother’s condition.

Louis’s brow furrowed. “Who takes care of you?”

The inquiry was said with so much seriousness that Evelyn didn’t dare laugh. She chose not to say “myself,” despite its being the truth. She’d been taking care of herself, more or less, since her father’s death. But she recognized what Louis was really asking. Did she have any other family or was she all alone in the world? She cringed inwardly at the thought of having no one. “My grandparents are waiting for me back in America.”

Her answer seemed to satisfy him.

“I’d better go,” he said, wiping the crumbs from his mouth with his sleeve.

Evelyn stood. “So should I. Do you live close by?”

He pointed south. “La Troumont.” Evelyn recognized the name of the nearby village. “
Au revoir
, Nurse Gray.”

“
Au revoir
, Louis. I hope to see you again soon.”

He grinned, then spun around and darted into the trees.

When he disappeared from view, Evelyn retraced her steps to the rear entrance of the hospital. It wouldn’t do to be late to her assigned ward, especially if Sister Marcelle chose today to make her inspection.

Evelyn passed through the empty dining hall. The sounds of her footsteps echoing off the high walls and marbled floors accompanied her as she moved toward the opposite end. The room that now housed long tables and benches for meals had once been a ballroom.

She liked to fancy herself in a silk dress and Ralph in his Army uniform waltzing around the ornate room, her cheek to his stubbled one, his hand firm against her back. He’d murmur funny or complimentary endearments in her ear as he had when they’d danced on leave two months before. The memories made her shiver with yearning and anticipation. Perhaps after the wedding, they could find a place to honeymoon for a few days so they could dance or explore again.

Smiling at the thought, Evelyn climbed the stairs to the wards on the second floor. The stone walls of the old château kept the place from being completely miserable now that it was the middle of summer, but she still felt the air growing warmer as she ascended. At the top, she smoothed her apron. She tried to recall from her days assisting her father how early a woman’s belly began expanding when she was pregnant. Four months? Five? Hopefully Ralph would be the first in his regiment to get leave, so she wouldn’t be showing too much by the time he came for her.

“There you are, Nurse Gray.” Sister Henriette met Evelyn outside the door of her assigned ward. The woman’s face glimmered with sweat beneath her wide, white headdress. It reminded Evelyn of the sailboats she’d seen as a child on Lake Michigan.

“I’m sorry I’m late, Sister. I had a quick errand to do first.”

Sister Henriette waved away her apology. “Sister Marcelle wishes to speak with you.”

“With me?” Something akin to panic wormed its way up Evelyn’s spine and, with it, a new wave of sickness. She hadn’t committed any infractions since transferring to St. Vincent’s six weeks ago. Did that mean Sister Marcelle, the hospital administrator, had discovered her secret?