“Sister, I ordered the baths because I didn’t know how else to treat the severity of the burns. I knew from my training that an ice bath is the first step in alleviating their pain. Forgive me if I overstepped my—”
“You did an excellent job, Cabrelli. I don’t know how you rallied the nurses, but they took orders from you better than they’ve ever taken them from me.”
Domenica wiped her face on the edge of her apron. She leaned against the wall and closed her eyes.
McVicars spotted Domenica from the end of the corridor. He joined her, leaning against the wall beside her. “I’ve visited most of my men. Well done. You’re a better captain than me.”
“I’m just a nurse.”
“Let’s be friends, Cabrelli. I was teasing you before.”
“Were you? Did your men fill out the forms?”
“Everyone but Donnelly. He can’t read or write.”
“Where did you get that robe?”
“Sister Aloysius or something or the other.” McVicars tied the sash around his waist. “Like it?”
“The doctor is making the rounds to the examination rooms,” Domenica said as she walked down the corridor. “You need to be on your table waiting for him.”
“I’d like to follow you and learn my way around the hospital, if you would oblige me. I will need to check on my men.”
“It’s simple. There are two floors and thirty rooms.” Domenica pointed in the direction of the rooms as she moved down the hallway. “We’re not a fancy hospital, but we’re a good one.” Domenica commandeered an overflowing laundry bin down the corridor. McVicars followed her.
“Any sailors in your family?” McVicars wanted to know.
“Not one. We do love the sea. We live on the water. Does that count?”
“Depends. What sea are we talking about?”
“Il Tirreno Mare.”
“The Tyrrhenian Sea! I know it well. I have also sailed the Ligurian Sea and the Mediterranean. The Gulf of Genoa to the north is as blue as a broken heart. Fond memories of that port.”
“I’m sure. Do you know Viareggio?”
“No, I don’t. We dropped anchor at Gioia Tauro. Do you know it?”
“On the Tyrrhenian coast.” Domenica leaned down to retrieve a bundle of dirty sheets on the floor and threw them into the bin.
“You aren’t just a French girl faking that Italian accent, are you?”
“The English think every accent is fake but their own.”
“I’m not English! I am a Scot. Couldn’t you tell?”
“How do you tell the difference?”
“In every conceivable way! Have you been to Scotland?”
“I have not. I know my village and I know Marseille. I’ve been in exactly two countries in my lifetime. France is the second one.” Domenica pushed the bin into the laundry room. McVicars followed her inside. The room was sweltering hot. The machines made a loud racket. A nun in a kerchief and apron pushed a bedsheet through the wringer washer. Another nun in the same work habit operated the industrial iron that chuffed clouds of steam when she pressed the fabric. They looked up at McVicars, and then at each other.
“He’s a patient,” Domenica explained as she emptied the bin and sorted the hospital pajamas from the towels for the laundress.
McVicars shouted over the din, “Do you like the rain and cold?”
Domenica shook her head no.
“You’ll get past it. There is much to recommend it. The green pastures. The lakes. Me.”
“I just met you, Captain. But I won’t hold that against your people. You’re blunt.”
McVicars laughed. “I am, aren’t I?”
“But it doesn’t bother me.” Domenica lifted a stack of fresh sheets off the shelf from the supply closet in the laundry. “You’re just scared.”
“Whatever do you mean?” McVicars pretended not to hear her as he followed her out the laundry room door and back into the corridor. “I will have you know that I am known for my courage.”
“You did lead your men to the hospital tonight. Some are worse off than others, but all of them will heal. You had good luck.”
“You won’t say that when you see the Boidoin.”
McVicars followed Domenica into the examining room. He stood by while she made up the examining table with a fresh sheet. “Do you think we could be friends?” he asked.
Domenica helped the captain onto the examining table. “It takes time to make a friend.”
“Well, obviously you’re a quick thinker. What are your thoughts? Do you think you can be my friend? Like? Not like? Ruminating? Indifferent? Undecided?”
“You talk too fast.” She swung McVicars’s legs onto the examining table.
“How did you do that? I’m three times your size.”
“Hot towels.” Josephine opened the door with her hip and smiled at McVicars.
McVicars took a towel and wiped his face. “How’s this, Nurse?”
“Better,” Josephine said.
“How about you, Cabrelli, what do you think?”
“I don’t see an enormous difference. Josephine, how are we doing on the floor?”
“We’ve got the boys cleaned up. Dr. Chalfant is overseeing the binding. Sister Marie Honoré has already put three men to sleep reading Scripture aloud.”
“Forgive them.” McVicars shook his head sadly. “Tell the good sister to read the racing forms. They’ll stay awake for that.”
“I must go.” Domenica turned to leave.
McVicars grabbed her hand. “The nurse said the situation is under control.”
Domenica pulled her hand away gently. “She’s not the boss. It’s my shift and I’m in charge. That’s why I can ask you a question.”
“What is it?”
“Would you like a cup of tea, Captain McVicars?”
Stephanie poked her head in the door. “Domenica, you’re needed on the floor.”
“Excuse me, Captain. The tea and macarons are at the nurses’ station at the end of the hall. Help yourself.”
CHAPTER 18
As the sun rose over Marseille, the lobby of H?pital Saint Joseph was drenched in light. Olivier, exhausted, slowly pushed the mop back and forth across the floor.
“Why are you still here?” Domenica took the mop from Olivier.
“Sister Marie Bernard said I couldn’t leave until I got the smoke smell out of the lobby.”
“It may take a while. I’ll throw some cologne around.”
Olivier smiled and took the mop back from her to finish his chore. “Why are you still here, mademoiselle?”