—
Hank sat quietly as the doctor gave instructions for Meg’s care.
We were to watch for signs of shock—paleness, a drop in temperature, a weak or rapid heartbeat. If that happened, we were to call an ambulance immediately, because it meant she was bleeding internally. Also, because of the concussion, we were to wake her once an hour for the next twelve hours to check her mental acuity.
“I would normally have you compare her pupils at the same time, but I’m afraid that won’t be possible with the swelling. However, each time you wake her, she must take five or six deep breaths to ward off pneumonia. If she can manage to cough, all the better. She will not want to, but it’s critical. I left morphine on the dresser. With your experience in the field, I assume you’re comfortable administering it?”
“Aye,” Angus said grimly.
“Good. Well. Unless you have any other questions, I’ll be off.”
He picked up his bag and went to the door. Angus walked with him.
“And the animal who did this—you say he’s been dealt with?”
“For the time being,” said Angus. “But if you should happen to be called out to one of the lumberjack camps tonight, may I recommend you take your time, or perhaps even a wrong turn?”
“Aye,” the doctor said. “With the Blackout, it can be very difficult to find your way in the dark. One might even say impossible on a night such as this. I assume you’ll be paying a visit to the commanding officer tomorrow?”
“That I will,” said Angus. “And I may well pay a visit to the man himself.”
The doctor nodded. “Under the circumstances, I can’t think of a single reason to try to dissuade you. Good evening, Captain Grant.”
Hank looked up sharply, and my heart began to pound.
I was right. It was him—he was the Angus on the stone.
Chapter Thirty-one
Although my heart was racing from learning the truth, the rest of me was bone weary. We all were, and slogged back upstairs in single file—I followed Angus, Conall followed me, and Hank brought up the rear.
I stopped cold when I saw Meg. I hadn’t thought she could look any worse.
“Dear God,” I said, creeping closer to the bed.
The doctor had stitched up the cut on her lip, as well as the gash that ran vertically down her cheek. The latter was terrible to behold—a makeshift black zipper, encrusted with blood, and indisputable proof that she’d be permanently scarred. I wondered if the missing teeth would hollow out her face, and hoped to God she wouldn’t lose the others. Despite all this, she appeared to be in a deep sleep.
Hank cleared his throat. He lingered in the hallway, just beyond Meg’s door.
“So, do you need me to grab more logs, or…?”
What he was really asking was if he could go to bed, and I hated him for it.
“We’ll manage,” said Angus.
Hank hung around a few seconds longer before disappearing. I could only imagine what he’d tell Ellis in the morning, but there was nothing I could do about it.
When Angus went to get more ice, I retrieved a quilt from my own room, pushed the chair around so it faced Meg, then settled into it, tucking my feet beneath me.
“You should go to bed,” Angus said when he came back. “I’ll sit with her tonight and Anna can take over in the morning.”
“I’d like to stay, if you don’t mind.”
“I don’t mind, but unless I manage a wee bit of rearranging, you’ll probably be on your own in the afternoon.”
“That’s all right.”
He stoked the fire, then crouched against the wall. I snuck a quick peek. He was studying me.
“So you were going to kill him, were you?” he asked.
“I meant to, yes.”
He gave a soft laugh. “You surprise me, Mrs. Hyde.”
“Maddie. I’m just Maddie. Anna and Meg have been calling me that for weeks, except when my husband is around.”
He looked at me for a very long time, and I wondered how much he had figured out.
—
“I’m afraid it’s time,” he said forty minutes later.
Meg was difficult to rouse, but we finally managed it by calling her name and tapping the backs of her hands. Angus asked if she knew the date. She replied that it was Valentine’s Day and began to cry.
It was her fault, she mumbled through broken lips. Rory had been in his cups, and she should have known better than to be coy about the stockings, never mind scolding him the night before. He was a good man, really he was—she was moving to Nova Scotia with him after the war. She’d seen the “Welcome to Canada” film just the week before, along with all the other girls who were going to marry lumberjacks when the war ended.
“Hush now, m’eudail,” said Angus.
“What if he doesn’t come back?”
Angus and I exchanged glances.
“You’ve got to take some deep breaths now,” Angus said. “Only five, but they must be deep.”
“I can’t,” she wept. “You don’t understand. It hurts.”
“You’ve got to, Meg,” I said. “It’s doctor’s orders. You don’t want pneumonia, do you?”
Angus and I helped her roll onto her back and held her hands, counting aloud as she valiantly filled and emptied her lungs. Her cries were heart-wrenching, but as soon as we counted to five, she turned onto her side and drifted off.
“Thank God for morphine,” Angus said. “She probably won’t even remember we woke her.”
“How long before her next dose?”
“Not quite four hours. I’ll give it to her just a wee bit early to stay ahead of the pain. It’s better than trying to catch up to it.”
As he sat back down, I wondered if he was speaking from personal experience.
“What will happen to Rory?” I asked.
“There’s no saying. But I can tell you this—he’ll never lay a finger on her again.”
The fire danced in his brilliant blue eyes, and I knew Meg would be safe from Rory forever, even if she didn’t want to be.
With everything else that had gone on that night, it was hard to believe that Ellis was still locked in his room, quite possibly tied to the bed. I wanted to crawl across the floor to Angus and tell him everything. I wanted to ask him about his own family. I wanted to feel his arms around me, and to wrap mine around him. I wanted to feel the blood coursing through his veins as he vowed to protect me, because I would believe him.