‘I’m so happy we’ve found you,’ she said, blinking away her tears and clearing her husky throat. ‘Your family will be so thrilled to know you’re safe, that we’ll be bringing you home.’
‘No,’ Thomas said, his voice as hostile as the glare he was giving her.
‘Of course they’ll be happy!’ she insisted. ‘I met your brother, I nursed him, and he’s—’
‘James?’ Thomas choked on the word.
‘James is alive,’ she told him, squeezing his hand, hating that he tried to pull it away, flinching as if she’d hurt him. ‘I met him by chance and we were both posted here. But he was injured, twice in fact, and he’s been sent home now. Nothing he won’t fully recover from, although he was shot pretty badly the second time.’
The snigger took Scarlet by surprise, the hate, or maybe it was pain, as it passed across Thomas’s face, making her snatch her hand back and dig her nails hard into her palm.
‘So he’s not a cripple like me?’ he sneered. ‘Is that what you’re trying to tell me?’
Thomas pulled back the blanket that had been covering him, showing the legs, the knees that Scarlet had embraced only moments before. They didn’t move. She didn’t ask him whether he could move them or not, they were covered by trousers, but given the way he’d spoken to her she doubted very much that he could. She discreetly sniffed the air, couldn’t detect any obvious gangrene.
‘You can’t walk?’ she asked gently.
‘If I could bloody well walk I would have stood up when my fiancée walked into the room!’ he barked.
Scarlet recoiled as if he’d slapped her across the cheek, his words as powerful as any punch. This was not the Thomas she’d fought for. This was not the man she’d promised to marry. Memories of him flooded her mind, reminded her of the man he was: good and steadfast, decent and kind.
‘Thomas, we have excellent doctors on staff at our hospital and Doctor Black . . .’
The man who she’d once felt such deep love for, such desperation to find, started to sob before her. His body was shaking, heaving, crumpling over as he cried like a baby torn from its mother. Scarlet reached for him, didn’t hesitate, couldn’t do anything but be there for him. Before the war, she didn’t recall ever seeing a man cry, never once, but since she’d been nursing she’d seen hundreds of men sob. Mourning the loss of friends or brothers, their limbs or sight, or simply crying with gratitude that they’d been saved. That they were going to be safe, perhaps even to be sent home, with food in their bellies and the warm hand of a nurse to hold when they were at their worst.
Scarlet wrapped her arms around Thomas and held him tight, letting him cry as she soothed him and made shushing sounds in his ear as she would to comfort a child. This was the last time she could think about James, romantically at least. Thomas was her fiancé. Thomas needed her. Thomas was her priority now, and she would do everything in her power to heal him and get him home, to be there for him and nurse him back to health. It was Thomas to whom she was promised, not James, and what had happened with James needed to be remembered as a wartime lapse of judgement and nothing more.
‘What are you even doing here?’ he muttered. ‘Why are you nursing?’
She sighed. ‘I’m doing my duty, just like everyone else.’
‘Scarlet?’
She eased herself away from him, enough to lift her chin and look up at Spencer, who was saying her name from the other side of the room. She met his gaze and knew she had to step away from Thomas.
‘We need to discuss something,’ Spencer said, his smile tight.
Scarlet stood, pressed a quick, light kiss to Thomas’s cheek and followed Spencer back out into the hall. ‘He’s not in a good way,’ she blurted out before the doctor had a chance to speak. ‘He doesn’t seem like himself.’
‘Scarlet. We’ve been advised to wait until morning, then we’ll drive directly to Brussels to our new hospital there. They’ll be well set up by then, and we can give your Thomas all the medical assistance he needs.’
She nodded, the only thing she felt truly capable of right now. ‘You’re not going to examine him now?’
Spencer’s face was grim. ‘I am, but from what I’ve been told he’s in denial about his injuries, perhaps even about what happened in the first place. All we know is that he was dragged from the plane before it exploded, and somehow brought here safely. The fact he’s still alive is a miracle.’
Scarlet didn’t know what was wrong with him, what the extent of his injuries were, but the fact that his legs weren’t working properly was terrifying. To her and certainly to him. But he was her responsibility, and whatever was wrong, whatever happened, she wasn’t going to leave his side. She looked at him and felt only duty, a sense of helping a friend, but her feelings didn’t matter. She’d made him a promise, and there was nothing more to it than that.
‘So we stay here for the night?’ she asked.
‘Yes,’ Spencer said, touching her shoulder. She was so pleased he was here with her, that she wasn’t with any other doctor. ‘I want to examine him alone, in privacy, man to man,’ he said. ‘I think that given the circumstances we can afford him that luxury.’
‘Thank you,’ Scarlet said.
‘Now you go and take a bath. I’ve managed to negotiate hot water into our accommodation.’
Spencer said the words with a smile and she had to fight the urge to throw her arms around him. He had so much to worry about himself, yet here he was being so kind and not letting on to anyone his personal concerns. She caught a glimpse of the band around his finger, the ring that reminded her he was married to her friend making her feel somehow that Ellie was here with them.
‘I can’t say no to a bath now, can I?’ she replied.
Spencer turned to go back into the room and Scarlet hated how easily she kept her back turned and went in search of the nun instead of returning to see Thomas. The possibility of submerging herself in a tub of warm water was a luxury like no other.
‘Come,’ the nun said, emerging from another room. ‘I’ve drawn you a bath and I have some bread and butter for you.’
Scarlet was surprised at how good her English was as she followed behind the kindly woman. This woman had kept Thomas alive, nursed him and cared for him, fed him and most likely bathed him. And now she was taking care of her as a mother would a daughter. She tried to find the words to tell her thank you, wanted to say the right thing, searched her mind for the French words she knew that would make sense and not come out of her mouth a jumble. She failed.
‘Thank you,’ she mumbled instead, barely more than a whisper.
The nun turned, took her hand and looked into her eyes. ‘You’re welcome,’ she replied, her words simple, but her gaze full of so much more.
Scarlet smiled as tears lined her lashes. If only they could stay safely tucked away in the convent for more than one short night.