When I stopped by the side of Captain Ravenel’s bed and checked his chart, I realized that the nurse had been in while I’d been sleeping, had already administered the medication, and had placed a tray filled with a stack of gauze, cotton balls, and disinfectant on the bedside table. I grinned to myself, too thankful to try to figure out her motive.
The patient remained asleep as I slid down his bedclothes to expose his wounded leg so I could examine it, allowing a view of his body, barely covered by a hospital gown. I’d seen up close nearly naked young men thousands of times since I’d arrived at Stornaway Hospital, but this was the first time I’d felt a tinge of self-consciousness. He moaned something unintelligible and I paused, studying his features. He was almost too beautiful to be a man, but the broad shoulders and heavily muscled arms and torso assured me that he was definitely male.
My mind had always been focused on my goal of becoming a doctor, and I’d never allowed myself to be perceived as one of those silly girls swooning over a fine male form like my best friend Margie Beckwith had done since we were twelve and probably would continue to do until she finally found a husband. Her task had been made all the more difficult by war and the exodus of most of the eligible young men from the city, not to mention her job as a librarian at the New York Public Library, which kept her surrounded by old records and other females in the same predicament.
I stared at his face, at the beautiful straight nose and olive skin, at his strong chin and dark brows, and wished he’d open his eyes so I could see them again. I quickly looked away, ashamed at how my purpose had been taken captive by the sight of an attractive male. My wavering brought back the unexpected memory of my mother and me standing wordlessly in front of this building, staring up at the windows of this very room.
I had spent a lifetime trying to understand my mother, to comprehend how she seemed to pine for something just out of her reach. I knew she’d loved my father and me, yet there had always been a barrier between us, a wall that sealed off half of her heart from us, as if she were holding it in reserve. I knew from an early age that I never wanted to be that way. And when I’d decided I wanted to be a doctor, I threw my entire heart into it. The difference between my mother and me, I’d decided, was that I didn’t believe in half measures.
I studied again the beautiful man in front of me, reminding myself of all that I’d accomplished and sacrificed, and all that I could still do as a female doctor, and a familiar calm settled on me. I would do my job, and do it well, and work even harder not to derail my focus.
I took his vitals and, being satisfied with the results, I picked up his chart again from the table at the foot of his bed to make notations. Despite my frantic and constant reading of the chart during the night in an attempt to guide his treatment, I hadn’t noticed his full name or where he was from. My eyes drifted to the top of the form where I’d read earlier that he was a captain and that his last name was Ravenel—a name that sounded oddly familiar. My gaze slid to the space on the form for a first name. Cooper. And he was from Charleston, South Carolina.
He hadn’t said enough the previous night for me to determine whether he had a Southern accent, but in my newly awakened imagination, I thought that he would and that his dropped consonants and slurred vowels would sound wonderful emerging from those lips.
I clenched my eyes, reminding myself to remain focused, inordinately thankful that I was alone in the room with nobody to witness my foolishness.
“Victorine.”
The word startled me, and I almost dropped the chart on the wounded leg. His eyes were open but still glazed from fever and morphine, and although I knew he was oblivious to his surroundings, the way he was looking at me made me feel again as if he knew me.
I placed the chart back on the table and moved closer to him. “Captain Ravenel? Can you hear me?”
“Victorine,” he said again, his eyes focused on my face, the name filled with hope and wonder, making me want to answer yes. But for the first time in my life, I couldn’t speak. None of my resources, or my authority as a medical doctor, gave me whatever it was I needed to answer the longing in the soldier’s voice. It unnerved me, made me feel the loss of something I never knew existed.
He continued to look at me as I recovered my composure and slipped back into my Dr. Kate Schuyler persona. “Captain Ravenel, you’re in a hospital in New York City. Your leg is badly hurt, but we are doing our best to save it.”
As if he hadn’t heard me, his hand gripped mine, and I knew I couldn’t pull away even if I’d wanted to.
“It’s you,” he whispered, his eyes settling on my face.
A sensation like hot chocolate sliding down my throat cocooned me so that I was aware only of this man, and me, and the heat of our clasped hands. My logical mind tried to reason with me, to tell me that Cooper Ravenel was in a feverish delirium and had no idea who I was. But there was something in his eyes that made me cling to the fallacy that there was something more.
“I’m here,” I managed to say. “I’m here to take care of you.”