Saving the Rifleman (5 page)

Maria waited until they were long gone before asking, “How long have you been a soldier?”

“Five years. It’s a good occupation for a third son.”

“Is it?” She stared at him, her gaze so direct and discerning he wouldn’t be surprised to discover she knew every thought in his head.

“Most definitely.”

“Forgive me, I’m not familiar with such things.”

“Naturally not. You’re a woman.”

“Indeed.” She sounded tired.

“In the eyes of a man like my father, there are only three acceptable choices for younger sons like myself. The military, the clergy or teaching at a university.”

“Did you get to choose?”

“No. My father decided early on that I wouldn’t do well in the clergy or at the university.” Living as a wastrel like his idiot uncle wasn’t an option either, as far as his father had been concerned. They argued about many things, including his life in the military, but that at least, John agreed with.

“Why the army?”

“I suppose because it posed the greatest challenge.”

“And the greatest danger,” she added in a disapproving tone.

“There’s that as well.”

“I’ll never understand the male need for conflict and competition.”

“Is that what you think this war is all about?”

“Isn’t it?”

“I suppose to some extent all war is, but no. This war is about power.”

She shook her head. “That’s what’s so sad.”

“What do you mean?”

“Anyone who thinks they can truly have power over another person, let alone another country is deluded. Power is an illusion. The only people we have power over are ourselves.”

John stared at her, his jaw hanging low. He couldn’t help it. She’d repeated almost verbatim what his father had said to him before he left for active duty months ago. A slow smile spread across his face. “I need to introduce you to my father.”

“Why?”

“Because he loves a good argument. And if it’s on the subject of good and evil, or the condition of the human soul, he loves it even more.”

“Don’t be silly. Your father isn’t going to want to talk to me.”

“Of course he will.”

She stared at him with her lips pressed so tightly together that lines appeared on either side of her mouth.

“Why wouldn’t he?”

“Because I’m an uneducated nobody.”

John snorted. “Didn’t you say you trained under Nurse Culver? And I heard you speaking German to that officer. You had to have had lessons.”

“A few, but I certainly didn’t learn anything useful at school.” An expression of hurt crossed her face then she turned away so he couldn’t see her at all.

“Maria?”

“I’m sorry,” she said to the wall. “I’m quite tired.”

Her stiff shoulders told him something very different. “Have I upset you?”

She shook her head just a little too quickly and a little too fast. He searched his memory to discover what he’d said to distress her, but nothing came to mind.

“I’ll enjoy introducing you to my father. I doubt he’s ever met anyone like you.” Her lack of education would come as no surprise, but her intelligence and knowledge despite it would shock the old man.

“I’m sure he hasn’t.”

It was a perfectly proper response, but her tone said she didn’t believe him. Not at all.

“You’re smarter than most of the chaps I went to school with. I have no doubt that you’ll make a favourable impression.”

“I’m a woman and I’m poor. He’s
not
going to want to talk to me.”

“What does your gender or station have to do with having an intelligent conversation?”

She finally looked at him, and the desolation on her face made the bottom of his stomach fall like a stone. “Everything.”

Chapter Five

They came from opposite ends of society, with very little common ground in between.

The thought drained the last of her energy.

No matter what happened, Maria had to remember that. She had too much to lose otherwise.

“How can you think my father a bigot when you don’t even know who he is?”

“I don’t have to know his name to know his attitude toward people like me.”

“People like you.” John continued to stare at her, his brows low over his eyes. “Perhaps you’re the one who’s the bigot.”

“It’s not bigotry, it’s the way of the world. One’s station determines one’s lot in life. Those that are higher do not suffer those who are lower for long.”

He regarded her with a solemn, thoughtful expression. “Who didn’t suffer you?”

It didn’t matter that it happened years ago, the memory alone had the power to stab her in the chest. “Someone I should have been able to trust.”

“He was a fool. I’m sorry he betrayed your trust. I will
not
.”

She sighed. “If we weren’t in this situation, you wouldn’t even know I existed.”

“True, I wouldn’t have come to Belgium had it not been for the war.”

“That’s not what I mean.”

“I know what you mean, and you’re wrong.” He leaned forward. “I would have noticed you.”

“Why?”

“You’re beautiful.”

She snorted at that.

“Shall I be more specific?”

“Can you?”

“My explanation may be somewhat…shocking.”

She rolled her eyes.
Men.
“After being a nurse for nearly two years, it’s quite difficult to shock me.”

“All right then, because of the way you walk.”

“The way I walk?” It was her turn to frown. “I don’t understand.”

“It’s…well…your hips…they…ah…” His face turned so red even the tips of his ears looked hot. He coughed and stared at the floor.

“Oh.” Maria imagined what he was visualizing and her own face grew rather warm. “Oh, I didn’t realize men found that…attractive.”

“You think it’s all about a woman’s face?”

“Yes, well, that’s what most women think.”

“Do you find the same things attractive about men as every other woman?”

“Well, no, not entirely. I find…ah, I see what you’re saying now. Our definition of beauty changes as we get older.”

“That’s part of it, I suppose. But there are some men who will only ever look at a woman’s face to decide if she’s beautiful or not. While others are smart enough to learn that true beauty lies in a woman’s heart.”

Her heart raced at the expression in his face, the soft smile and wide eyes. His gaze snared hers in a trap she should be trying to escape.

“What about intelligence and courage? Do you value those traits in a woman?”

“Certainly, though I think there are some things no woman should be involved in, no matter how smart or brave they are.”

“Such as?”

“War for one. Even here, miles away from the front lines, there is great danger. Women aren’t suited for combat or its results. War is a man’s occupation.”

“What do you think I’ve been doing since the war began if not dealing with the results of it?”

“You should be home in England where it’s safe, not here under constant threat of discovery and at the mercy of—”

Several sets of footsteps marched down the hall. Everything inside her stopped working. Froze solid.

John lay down, and she closed the closet only moments before the room’s door opened.

“What’s this?” a man’s voice barked out.

The walls of the closet seemed to constrict and press against her. Her heartbeat thundered in her ears. Surely the man who entered could hear it.

Someone walked into the room, toward the closet and Maria’s breathing staggered to a stop.

“Our isolation room.” Rose’s voice. “We believe this man has yellow fever, a very infectious disease.”

The sounds of boots moving about, scraping the floor. “Is it dangerous?”

“It can cause damage to the brain and even kill.”

“Who looks after this man?”

“If no one volunteers,” Rose answered, “I will have to.”

The boots retreated. “Next room,” the man commanded.

The door closed and the footsteps moved on, but it was several minutes before Maria was able to calm herself. She shook with fear, harder than before. Tired, she was so tired.

A voice whispered her name.

She opened the closet door and peeked out. John was still in the cot, but he was looking in her direction.

“Well, we survived one inspection.”

Her mouth was so dry she could hardly speak. “We’ll have to be careful.”

John studied her inside the closet. “You can’t hide in there all night.”

“It’s better than getting caught.” She straightened and grabbed the doorknob. “I’m going to close this for now.” She made a bit of a nest for herself with her cloak and curled up on the floor.

Sometime later the sound of a woman at John’s bedside jolted her awake.

“How are you feeling?”

Rose.
The tension in Maria’s chest eased a little. Thank God.

“Thirsty.”

“I’ve brought soup and water for you, enough to last the night.” She set something on the floor with a soft scrape.

The closet door opened.

“Maria?”

“Yes, ma’am,” she said, shocked at how tired Rose looked.

“There’s enough for the both of you, but you’ll have to share the bowl and spoon.”

“Thank you.”

“I’ll be back in the morning. Stay in the closet and don’t come out for any reason. We have a few soldiers staying with us.”

Fear stabbed her in the belly. “They believed the German officer?”

“They’re suspicious. We need to be very cautious for a while.” Rose turned and went to the door. She paused, listened, then slipped out.

Maria rose and picked up the small pot of warm soup and removed the lid. She was surprised to see it was more than broth. Floating on top were carrots and potatoes. She handed it to John.

He shook his head. “Ladies first.”

She glared at him and muttered, “Oh, for heaven’s sake.” She picked up the glass of water and handed it to him. “Drink. You need to replace the blood you lost.”

“What about you?”

“I had tea not long before I joined you in the
first
closet. My share of the soup will be more than enough.” She returned to the closet and closed the door behind her. The darn man was determined to be a gentleman, even when it might affect his recovery. She sipped the soup, eating just a few of the vegetables. She’d had a biscuit with her tea, so she wasn’t very hungry anyway.

She waited another minute or two, then opened the door a crack. Seeing nothing that shouldn’t be there, she stepped out and handed John the pot and spoon. “I’ve eaten all I need, please be sure to finish it.”

“You know, I think we’d win the war in a week if you were field marshal.” He looked in the pot and one side of his mouth curled up. “Did you eat any of it?”

“Of course I did.”

“About as much as would fill a thimble?”

“You need it more than I do.”

“How did I know you were going to say that?”

Something in his tone tugged at her ear and she looked at him. Really looked. He seemed to enjoy arguing with her, yet it didn’t quite feel natural, as if he were forcing himself to appear in charge of his emotions when it was the furthest thing from the truth. “John?”

“Yes, sir?”

There it was again, the quick smile and faster answer. “Are you…afraid?”

“Of what? The dark?”

Maria sighed. “I’m terrified. But despite that, I’m determined to do what’s necessary to get you home.”

He didn’t answer and after a moment, she glanced over at him. The smile was gone now, and in its place a piercing gaze that seemed to see all the way down to the bottom of her soul.

Finally, he said, “Your courage does you credit, but I was an idiot to come here and put you in this position in the first place.”

Anger surfaced from underneath the terror. “Don’t call yourself that.”

He grunted. “I’ve been calling myself all kinds of names since the moment you opened that closet door.”

“Why?”

He shook his head and glared at the ceiling, a muscle twitching on one side of his jaw. “I’ve endangered you and the other nurses here needlessly.”

“Rubbish.”

“You’re too forgiving,” was his curt reply.

She narrowed her eyes and leaned forward. “Bollocks.” That got a reaction, and he stared at her as if he’d never heard the word before. “What do they teach you at officer school? Manners, deportment, the proper rules of engagement?”

“Well…yes.”

“Balderdash the lot of it.”

He opened his mouth, but she wasn’t finished. “I assure you the Germans haven’t been following any polite rules of gentlemanly behaviour since the very beginning of this war. Believe me, this hospital was your only chance at survival.”

His face had lost some of its color. He swallowed. “You’re not like most women.”

Was that a complaint or a compliment?

“I don’t know many who’d willingly go into danger the way you have.”

“You did it. Every man in the British army did it. Why can’t I?”

“I’m not saying you can’t. I’m saying you’re braver than any woman I know.” He grinned suddenly. “Mad as a hatter too.”

“I have no wish to end up in Bedlam, I just want to do my part.”

“I believe you’ve accomplished that.”

“But?”

“No
but
. I admire your tenacity.”

“Is that…good?” It sounded more like a trait a rat catcher would admire in a terrier.

“Of course. You’ve surprised me at every turn.”

Now, the challenge would be to get John out of Belgium and into the Netherlands. No small feat for a nurse and a wounded soldier. There were miles of road to travel and hundreds, if not thousands, of enemy soldiers between them and the border. Then there was crossing the border itself.

Maybe John was right. Maybe she was barmy.

* * *

By the time morning arrived, Maria wondered if she’d ever be able to stand up straight again. Uncurling herself from her cramped position on the floor of the closet proved more difficult than she’d imagined. Her spine didn’t seem to want to bend the other way anymore. She finally managed to stand upright and carefully opened the door to peek out.

John slept soundly in the cot, the blanket caught under one arm.

She went to the window to get a sense of the time. Late morning traffic crowded the street outside. She’s slept longer than usual. A good thing since they would likely be traveling all the upcoming night.

A squeak from the floorboards startled Maria, giving her enough warning to scramble back into the closet. She heard the door open and soft footsteps cross the floor.

“Maria?” Rose whispered. “Are you well?”

For the first time in hours, Maria was able to take in a deep breath. She opened the closet. “Yes, thank you.”

“Would you like a moment to wash? The rest of the staff is in the kitchen eating lunch.”

“It’s that late?”

Rose smiled slightly. “Yes. I have some more soup and water for the two of you, as well as some bread.”

“Thank you.”

“There’s warm water in surgery. Go ahead, I’ll stay here in case he wakes.”

Maria hurried down the hall to their surgery room and washed her face and as much of the rest of her as she could. She used the chamber pot left there for use during long surgeries and returned to the isolation room feeling much better. Even the stiffness in her back seemed to be gone.

When she opened the door, she found Rose standing near the cot and John still asleep.

“I’ll be back later. Do you need anything?”

“I need a dress that doesn’t look like a uniform.” Maria still wore the clothes she’d put on the day before.”

Rose nodded and slipped out.

Maria sat on the floor next to the cot and contemplated her feet. They were going to have to walk a long way before reaching any sort of lasting safety with many unknown obstacles yet in their way.

She looked at John, his face relaxed in sleep. He was handsome, leanly muscled and had a ready smile. But what she kept seeing in her mind’s eye was the expression on his face when he’d ordered the German officer to release her. He’d given up his safety for hers and had been prepared to do anything to help her. His determination had been clear in his steady hand, calm gaze and raised chin.

He’d seen her as a lady in need of rescuing and had risen to the challenge.

But she wasn’t some gently born woman who rightfully expected her man to take care of her. She had to make her own way in the world, keep herself safe.

No matter how much she might wish it otherwise, she had no claim on John Bennet. Could never have. No matter what his sense of honour demanded of him at the end of this adventure.

* * *

John woke to confusion. For a moment he had no idea where he was. Not the battlefield certainly. Nor was it the farm where he’d taken shelter after he’d been separated from his unit and caught behind German lines. His memory came back in flashes, almost like pictures, posed and framed for all to see.

Some were unremarkable—the face of a school friend, the voice of his commanding officer ordering them to advance. Others were the sort he’d rather not remember at all. The screams of the wounded and the smell of burnt flesh.

Why did the air smell of fresh bread?

The hospital. The closet.
Maria
.

She sat next to his cot, staring into space while her teeth worried at her bottom lip. So solemn and anxious.

“Good morning,” he said.

She blinked and glanced at him. “I’m afraid it’s closer to afternoon.”

“Really?” He noticed that her eyes appeared sunken and the skin below them almost black. “Did you sleep?”

“Yes, though not as much as I probably needed. You?”

“Very well, thank you.”

They stared at each other blankly for a moment before he decided he hated that distressed expression on her face. “I suppose if I offer you this cot you’ll just refuse again.”

She straightened her back and quirked an eyebrow at him. “Of course.”