A Nurse for Mitch Page 3

  “Until I can figure out how to keep the wound from bleeding every time you make big movements, you need to stay in this position as much as possible. I’ll have Henrietta help you eat.”

  “Why can’t you help me eat?”

  Inwardly, she groaned. She didn’t want him to feel that way about her. “Because you’re not my only patient. I work at the hospital and I cannot attend to you constantly.”

  Sighing, he nodded. “I understand.”

  What Lydia wished she understood was why her heartbeat sped up every time he smiled at her, and why she felt sorry for him those moments he expressed defeat. Like now.

  One way or another, she would have to put her feelings aside… especially if he turned out to be Lieutenant Peter Mitchell, the deserter.

  FOUR

  Lydia sat at the dining table with her family that afternoon for lunch. Aunt Beatrice had Henrietta make a special meal for the whole family and expected everyone to be there, especially since a few of them worked in the evening and couldn’t be together for supper. Although her cousin’s friend was at the table with them, the discussion going on wasn’t about him, but about the unknown injured man in the guest bedroom.

  Her two cousins – Luke and Thaddeus – were older than her by at least four years. Thad was the oldest. Both of them were astounded when Lydia had told them about her patient, and when she mentioned that he might be a Union soldier, her cousins became livid. None of them had enlisted during the Civil War, and even her uncle hadn’t joined. Lydia suspected they were more partial to the Confederates because of Henrietta and how she was like family to them, and they didn’t want to offend her in any way.

  Luke, who was usually mild mannered, wiped his mouth with the linen napkin and threw it on his empty plate. “Lydia, we will not allow you to nurse a Yankee soldier back to health.”

  “It’s not your decision to make.” She fisted her hands under the table. “I’m a nurse, which means I help all people. I don’t care what race they are, what religion they are, and I especially don’t care if they fought for the north or the south. If they are sick or injured, I will help them. Besides, all this man knows is that he hasn’t been able to remember his life for a few months. What if he wears the uniform and the boots because those are the only clothes he can find? Because, obviously, these clothes are twice his size and they are faded and worn.”

  She wasn’t certain if she was trying to convince her family or herself. Yet, deep in her heart, she knew she wanted to help, regardless if he was a deserter or not.

  Luke gave her a dismissive wave. “It doesn’t matter. Once he remembers, he’ll turn back into the Union soldier. I’ve worked with several of them, and they are cocky and push their weight around. Your patient will be just like it, I know.”

  She rolled her eyes. “You don’t know anything, Luke.” Lydia really hated to say that since he was the only one going to college right now. But his anger was clouding his judgement. “Have you forgotten that the war is over?”

  “I have a thought,” Thaddeus cut in, setting his fork on the table before leaning back and linking his fingers over his beefy middle. “What if this man is faking his amnesia?”

  All eyes around the table turned on her. She became uncomfortable, especially since Luke’s friend, Jess Olsen, kept looking at her in a flirtatious manner. He seemed like a nice man, and he was handsome, but she wasn’t interested. She also wasn’t rude, and so she didn’t know how to discourage him.

  Lydia snorted a laugh. “Why would he do that?”

  “I don’t know,” Thad continued. “It’s just a thought. Maybe he didn’t want us to know he is a blue-belly weasel.”

  “Oh, not you, too.” Lydia shook her head. “You all need to get that out of your heads. The war is over. Period. Let it rest, for heaven’s sake.” She took a deep breath. “And, to answer your question… If Mitch is trying to hide his true identity, why would he not hide his boots or his clothes?”

  Thad shrugged. “It’s just hard to believe that he can’t remember anything about his life.”

  “Just because you can’t comprehend what someone with amnesia is going through, doesn’t mean you’re right.”

  “Here is another thought.” Jess leaned his forearms on the table, peering into her eyes as he entered the conversation. “What if he is a deserter? You know, there are still a few who haven’t been found. Maybe he is one of them and so is fooling us into believing that he has no memory.”

  Inwardly, she groaned. He’d said the very thing that had been on her mind. She hadn’t planned on sharing with her family the story Captain Lewis had told her. She didn’t want her family to be judgmental – not yet. Not until Mitch found his memory.

  “Mr. Olsen—”

  “Please, call me Jess.” He grinned, and his blue eyes flashed.

  She smiled weakly. “Jess, if he were a deserter and pretending to have amnesia, wouldn’t he be afraid of running across someone who might know him? After all, if he was a Union soldier, people around these parts were fighting along with him.”

  “Only if he deserted from our side, but what if he deserted from the Union and then came to the West to hide away? Nobody here would know him.”

  “What you say makes sense,” Jess continued, scratching his clean-shaven chin. “However, as you pointed out, that was three years ago. Most men who fought in the war would have forgotten about those who deserted.”

  All right, she would have to admit that he had a point. “So, now I ask… does being a deserter make him a murderer?” She shrugged. “Yes, I know a deserter must serve time in jail for leaving the army, but they still might be good men.”

  “Do you know what one of your faults is?” Thad asked her. “It’s that you are too trusting. You’ve always wanted to see the good in people, even if it wasn’t there.”

  She gasped. “Are you seriously accusing me of that… of being a good Christian woman? I will never apologize for that certain trait.”

  “Now, now…” Uncle Albert finally spoke, raising his hand. “I believe the conversation has taken a different turn.”

  “Forgive me, Pa.” Thad pushed away from the table. “But my vote is we take that Yankee to the hospital and inform the sheriff quickly. We need to leave it in their hands.”

  “And I override your vote,” Lydia said with determination. “I’m Mitch’s nurse, and as a certified nurse, I know we cannot move him, or he’ll bleed to death. I cannot have that on my conscience. I will also not judge him until the man remembers his past.”

  “Pa?” Thad whined as he turned his attention to the older man at the head of the table. “This is your house. Will you allow her to harbor a deserter?”

  Uncle Albert’s salt and pepper bushy eyebrows drew together. Slowly, he chewed the food in his mouth as his gaze jumped from person to person all around the table. Olivia had been quiet, but then Lydia knew her sister was lollygagging over Jess Olsen. Luke’s auburn brows were creased, matching his father’s, while Aunt Beatrice sat eating her food daintily as if she couldn’t hear anything. Sometimes Lydia wondered if her aunt – her mother’s sister – was going deaf. Thad, of course, appeared angrier than anyone.

  Finally, Uncle Albert released a sigh. “Because the soldier is injured, his care needs to be in Lydia’s hands. If she says he’ll bleed to death if he’s moved, we all need to respect her knowledge.” Both Thad and Luke groaned in disagreement. “However,” her uncle held up a hand as he looked directly at her, “once the man is healed, you will move him to the hospital. Is that understood?”

  “Yes, Uncle Albert. Thank you.” She didn’t want to sigh with relief, not yet. But at least the matter had been decided on. Her cousins didn’t look very happy.

  “Pa?” Thad whined again. “What will happen if we go to work at the lumber yard and leave these helpless women with this soldier? Who is going to protect them while we’re gone?”

  Lydia bit her lip, trying not to laugh. She exchanged comical expressions with Olivia. S
econds later, Olivia burst out laughing, and finally, Lydia couldn’t hold back her humor any longer, either.

  “You cannot be serious, Thad.” Lydia shook her head. “Both Olivia and I remember what it was like during the war when the Union soldiers took over our home and made it into a hospital for the wounded. Both of us had to deal with aggressive men, and both of us know how to use a rifle. We fought tooth and nail, along with our mother, to keep our virtues intact and to keep our home and belongings safe. To call us helpless is inaccurate.”

  Olivia gave a sharp nod and folded her arms over her bosom. “Besides that, Samuel works on the farm, and he comes to the house quite often to see Henrietta.”

  “The matter has been settled.” Uncle Albert rose from his chair. “Let’s not discuss this any further.”

  The men stood and left the room. Olivia and Lydia helped Henrietta clean the table. Aunt Beatrice still looked like she was in her own little world as she stared out the window.

  “Now go visit with the men.” Henrietta flipped them a dismissal wave. “And Lydia, ya need to get ready for work.”

  “Yes, I know. I’ll check on Mitch first before I get ready for the hospital.”

  Olivia tugged on Lydia’s arm. “Can I come with you?” Her eyes lit up with excitement.

  “Not yet. I’m sorry, but his condition is still pretty critical. And I don’t want to overwhelm him with the family, yet.”

  Olivia huffed and scowled. “You’re just keeping him all to yourself.”

  “Pardon me?” Lydia tilted her head. Sometimes she couldn’t understand what her sister was talking about. “Are you thinking of him as a patient or as a future beau? Because I promise you, I think of him as my patient.”

  Olivia rolled her eyes and stormed off toward her room.

  Lydia threaded her fingers through her hair and massaged her scalp. How was she going to stay awake tonight at the hospital? Now she wondered if her lack of sleep had turned her into a bear this afternoon. Would she have argued with her cousins otherwise? She hoped so, since she was putting her patient’s needs first.

  She walked to the guest bedroom and stopped, listening for sounds on the other side. She was relieved that her cousins or uncle hadn’t come to interfere with her caring for the patient.

  Lydia knocked twice. A second later, she heard his voice telling her to enter. She opened the door and stepped in. Mitch was still lying in the position where she’d left him. It made her happy to know he was following her instructions. “I came to check on you to see how you’re feeling?”

  “I’m feeling the same, but Henrietta fed me, so now at least I’m not hungry.” He smiled. “I just wish I didn’t feel so weak and achy.”

  She stepped into the room and closed the door. “You’re going to feel that way since your body was hit by a speeding buggy.”

  “A speeding buggy, huh?” He arched an eyebrow. “Does that mean you were going too fast, Miss Simmons?”

  She nodded and moved closer to his bed. “Yes, I’ll admit, I was in a hurry to get home. I had plans to go to the governor’s ball last night with my friends.”

  He frowned. “I’m sorry I kept you from your entertainment.”

  “It’s not your fault. Remember, I was the one who hit you. Besides,” she shrugged, “you might not have gotten such a caring nurse if someone took you to the hospital.”

  “Not until it was your shift.” He paused and glanced at the door before looking back at her. “I want to thank you for sticking up for me in front of your family.”

  “Pardon me?” Her pulse quickened. He couldn’t have heard the conversation at the table… could he?

  “I’m sorry I overheard what your family was discussing. My only excuse is because I have nothing else to do but listen… or sleep, of course. But, it made me happy to have you defend me – a stranger you don’t even know.”

  “Well, the truth is, I didn’t like the way they were so quick to judge you without any proof of wrong doings.”

  He smiled at her again, tenderly this time. Once again, she wished she didn’t like the way he looked this way. His eyes were too dreamy.

  “Thank you, Miss Simmons. You are a wonderful woman.” He pointed to his bandage. “And nurse, of course. I don’t think I’m bleeding again.”

  “Let me check.”

  She leaned over him, studying the bandage. There was a small spot of blood, but that was all. As she pulled back, his eyes were on her face and his breathing had increased. Silently, she groaned. Why hadn’t she walked around him to look at his wound? Being this close to him was not a good thing at all.

  “Miss Simmons—”

  “Please, call me Lydia. After all, I call you by your first name. It’s only fair to call me by mine.” After she’d given him permission to use her first name, she wondered why. Did she want to be on friendly terms with him? Now it would be difficult to keep things on a professional level.

  He laughed. “You call me Mitch only because I don’t know my real name. I suppose Mitch could be my last name… or even the name of my horse. Who knows?”

  She chuckled, and prayed that Mitch was not his last name, because then he would definitely be Peter Mitchell. “Please, let me know when you have remembered.”

  “Yes. You’ll be the first person I tell.”

  Her mind tried to think of something else to talk about, but then she realized she was trying to find a reason to stay with him longer. She couldn’t have that. She needed to get ready for work. “Well, I’d better go. I don’t want to be late for my shift at the hospital.”

  “Thank you for checking on me.”

  “I’ll make sure Henrietta continues to take care of you this evening.”

  “Thank you. I’ll probably fall asleep. I’m starting to feel tired again.”

  “That’s fine.” She moved to the door.

  “Um, Lydia?” His voice stopped her.

  “Yes?”

  “When I was listening to your family’s conversation at the table, I overheard something that confused me. Would you mind staying a few minutes longer and explain to me about this war you were all talking about?”

  Lydia gasped and she spun around. “You don’t remember the war?”

  He grinned and shrugged. “I don’t remember my own name. I don’t even remember what happened to me a couple of months ago, so how could I possibly remember a war?”

  A blush warmed her cheeks. How could she have been so stupid? Of course, he wouldn’t have remembered. “You’re correct, of course.” She moved to his bed and sat on the edge, looking into his mesmerizing eyes. “Consider yourself lucky for not remembering. I wish I could forget those awful years. There was so much unnecessary killing and bloodshed. So many men lost their lives needlessly. At first I thought, along with the rest of the states, that there would be a few battles and then it would be over, but the few battles turned into many, and one year passed, bringing on another year of despair, and before we knew it, four long years had passed, seeming like ten years, instead.”

  Mitch slowly reached out his good arm and touched her leg. “Your family thinks I’m a Yankee soldier, and they make it sound as though that was a terrible thing.”

  She laughed lightly. “The Yankees won the war, so I would think that if you were a soldier, you’d want to be on the winning side.”

  “I suppose it is a good thing I don’t remember.”

  “I think it is. But remember this… Once your memory comes back, you need to decide what kind of person you want to be. Do you want to be like my cousins who can’t forget the past and move forward? No, you’ll want to be the kind of man who treats others with respect no matter what color they are or what religion they believe in.”

  He nodded. “I want to be like you, then.” He winked. “I like that you’re not judgmental.”

  Her heart skipped a beat. “Then I pray you are that way once you remember, because there are too many men in this world who cannot forget the war. We cannot live a life of regret. We
must move forward and make a better life for ourselves.”

  “Well said, Lydia.”

  She patted his hand. “Now, I really need to get to work.”

  “Thank you, again. I look forward to when you visit me again.”

  Smiling, she left the room, realizing she was looking forward to that moment, too.

  FIVE

  The next morning, Mitch awoke as the sun was rising, brightening the room. Immediately, his mind turned to yesterday afternoon and his conversation with Lydia. Not only could he remember every word, but he couldn’t stop thinking about those times she’d touched him. The touch of her soft hands sent tingles throughout his body in a disconcerting way. The touch wasn’t unpleasant, and he liked it more than he should.

  He hadn’t moved much during the night, and thankfully, slept very well. Sadly though, he woke up with still no memories of his life, and when he tried forcing himself to remember, his head pounded harder.

  Henrietta had brought him breakfast this morning and had just left the room with the empty dishes. She was a sweet woman, and he understood why Lydia’s family loved the older woman so much.

  He wanted to be presentable for when Lydia came to see him again, but if he followed her instructions, he couldn’t do anything. Thankfully, Henrietta came to his rescue again. Before she had left with the empty dishes, he asked her to give him a shave. He’d had a full beard for far too long, and he wanted it gone. The housekeeper was very happy to oblige, and he was grateful she knew how to shave him without cutting his face up.

  She’d given him a mirror to look in to admire the finished picture. As he studied his face and ran his hand across his now smooth chin and upper lip, he couldn’t believe the difference in his appearance. He looked much younger. Henrietta had agreed and complimented him, telling him how handsome he was. He didn’t know about that, but he looked – and felt – much better.

  The door creaked and he swung his gaze in that direction. His heart beat faster, and he held his breath, waiting to see Lydia’s beautiful face. But, as he watched the door slowly open, it wasn’t Lydia’s head that poked inside the room. Instead, the girl looked to be a much younger version of Lydia.