New Beginnings (New Beginnings Series) (10 page)

Sam was putting the coffee pot on the stove when she returned. Opening the box set on the table, she tucked the bundle down into a corner. The case contained many small compartments, practically all of which held a jar or package. Sara went to the cupboard for the willow bark tea and returned it to its cubicle.

Sam turned to watch and looked amazed at what the box held. He lifted a jar which read, “Hornwort”.

She could almost read his mind and said, “It’s the name of an herb.”

“No ‘eye of newt’?” he asked with a slight chuckle.

“No dried bat wings either,” she smiled as she closed the lid. “Have to be careful with this. A few of these things are quite lethal.”

Sam ran his hand over a stamped mark in the lid, which read, The United States Army, Medical Supply. “Why did you go down to the States to be a nurse?” The pot started to steam and he poured coffee into two cups, adding a pinch of sugar to both.

Sara also ran her hands over the wood, thinking of the many memories it held. “That is definitely a ‘sit-down, have a cup of coffee’ kind of story.”

Placing a chair by the bed, Sam placed the cups on it, then sat down with his back against the wall and placed a pillow on his lap, patting it with his hand. “Lie down for a while and tell me about it.”

Feeling tired, she didn’t have to be asked twice. Sara put her head down, pulling the duvet over herself. He brushed the hair from her forehead and listened as she started to tell the story of a completely different life.

Chapter Eight

“Back in the ’40’s my father and mother went to New Brunswick from New York State. He was a Methodist minister and wanted to help with the Underground Railroad. He settled near the border so they could help relocate the escaped slaves. I was born there and it was part of our lives. Sometimes the people would arrive with bad injuries and I started to help Doctor Hughes in his hospital. By the time I was sixteen I had watched all kinds of procedures and wanted to be a doctor. Of course being female, I wasn't encouraged. Everyone thought being a nurse would be sufficient, so I stayed at the clinic instead.”

“Then in ’61 the ‘War of the Rebellion’ started and the progress of the railroad ended. I wanted so much to help, especially when the matter of slavery was announced. I decided to go south and help in the hospitals. As much as I was glad to be of aid, my experience made it so I was asked to go to the places where need was the greatest. My first real encounter near the battlefront was in July, in northern Virginia near a small river named Bull Run. I remember how hot it was and we worked quickly with the wounded. They really didn't have enough doctors and I took it upon myself to amputate a corporal’s leg. I was only sixteen.” Sara closed her eyes for a moment and ran her hand over her forehead.

Sam was certain she could see the whole procedure in her mind, as if it happened recently. He took her hand and held it tightly, running each finger in between hers, as she continued.

“I had helped with several and fortunately at the time there was a good supply of morphine, although later sometimes we didn't have enough. The hospital was set up in a town called Manassas Junction. At the time I was in serious trouble for going ahead with the surgery and was banned from being a nurse. After inspection they found it was the only thing that could have been done. His leg was severely decayed by the time he was brought in. The surgeons found they were quite satisfied with the job and with so many wounded he may have been beyond help if I didn’t go ahead. After that I was asked to go to the field hospitals, near the fighting.”

“How could they let someone so young go to the field?”

Sara looked back into Sam's dark eyes, a hint of moisture starting to show in her own. “I told them I was nineteen and they never questioned it. They were so short of medical help near the battlefields and I felt obligated to go. I worked my way through several states and was in Tennessee when word came of the Battle of Shiloh. It was on a Sunday, April 6th, of the second year, and I remember the sky being as red as blood that morning. We were at the hospital station near Chattanooga. It felt so strange to be living in the states we were against, but after a while all the soldiers started to look the same to me. Their blood was all the same colour. I arrived at Pittsburgh Landing on Monday and that same night went out to the battle site. In only two days there were about twenty-three thousand dead or dying and so many wounded … and they all looked the same.” A tear fell over Sara's cheek and Sam wiped it away with a tender touch.

“You don't have to tell me, Sara. I know it hurts you very much.”

She took a deep breath and continued with the story, as if it had to be told. “I don't think I ever remembered seeing so many people in one place before. The bodies seemed to cover miles of land. And the noise … nothing else could ever sound like it. It was nearly impossible to know where to start. Tents were set up for surgeries and soldiers who were capable brought the injured. It seemed to go on for days. The grey dress I wore was completely soaked with blood by the time I could wash it in the Tennessee River. It turned the water red around it. When I turned to leave the river I found another soldier hiding behind a fallen tree. I could have saved him, Sam, but I was too late. He must have been there for at least two days by the time I found him. He was Negro and I couldn't help but think he could have been safe in New Brunswick, but instead he was fighting for his freedom. All I could do was hold him. He told me how lucky he was to die in the arms of an angel. He said only angels could have eyes as blue as the heavens. In his hand he was holding onto a polished blue stone. He said it was a lucky one and wanted me to have it. After he died, I went back to the camp. General Grant was there and he thanked me and the others. When we did all we could, I walked away ... I couldn't do it anymore. It took almost six months to get home, but I did and never went back.”

Sara stood up from the bed and took the tightly-wrapped bundle out of the medicine box. She held the small blue stone and rubbed its smoothness between her fingers before handing it to Sam. “There were not many things I brought back with me, other than the empty medicine box and the stone. I didn't want to take the memories home, but I couldn’t leave them behind.” She sat down beside him, looking at the horseshoe nail. “My father gave me this when William and I got married. He said I would have to be strong like the iron in the nail, but at the right time be able to bend.” She smiled when she added, “He always said I was stubborn like my mother.” She held the cloth to her nose and drew a deep breath, “I have to imagine it now, but I can almost smell Mother's rose water.” Sara took the stone and wrapped her memories into the small bundle and placed them back in the box.

She refilled the cups with coffee before returning to the bed. Even though he was fully dressed, Sam had the cover over himself and pulled it back so she would lie down beside him. He leaned on one elbow so he could look down at her, gently touching a finger to her lips. She meekly put her hand over his and moved it so it lay on her breast. The kiss they shared was one of intense passion, the urgency surging through them both. They held onto each other tightly not wanting to break the touch for even a moment.

“I don't understand how I can want something so much that scares me,” Sara whispered to him.

Sam raised himself so he could see those eyes, which at this moment seemed to plead. “Why does it scare you?”

“William was not a gentle man,” Sara pulled away and sat on the bed so she faced away from him. “He was the only man I knew in that sense, until … well …” She took the cup of coffee and slowly emptied it, trying to find the right words. With her back still to him she continued, “I never felt the way about William as I’m starting to feel about you.”

Sam lay back on the bed, placing his hand against his forehead. With a puzzled look he asked, “You were married for what, seventeen years? Did you not love him?”

Still looking away, she answered, “William and I went to the same school together. He was to be married to a local girl, Heather, when I left to go south. When I came back home from the fighting, I learned about a year after they wed, she and his baby died from scarlet fever. William read in a newspaper about the Red River Settlement and the Métis who lived there. He thought by starting fresh in a new land, he could forget about the past. I joined him to get away from my own memories. I thought a completely new life would help me forget about all the blood and death and I thought I could learn to love him. Everything went well until little Elizabeth died. He started to hate me even then. Sometimes he would leave for weeks at a time to travel to Portage La Prairie, saying he would go for supplies. Or in later years he would travel to Tanner’s Crossing or Rolston’s Colony and eventually to Grand Valley to drown his sorrows. He would come home full of anger and was mean, wishing I could trade places with his Heather.”

Sam ran a kind hand over her back to tightened shoulders, gently rubbing them as he moved to sit beside her.

She sat with her head bent forward, but straightened as his hand moved. Tears left dampness on her cheeks, but she continued, “When we received word something was wrong with my blood, he said helping all the black people poisoned it. I don’t understand how he could say such a thing, his own mother was half Abnaki, Algonquin and he knew the pain of discrimination. You don't believe my blood was poisoned, Sam? They are people, like you and I.”

“Of course, Sara.” He took the cups off the chair, moving them to the table and sat down in front of her. Taking both hands in his own, he touched his forehead lightly against hers. “It sounds like William was a man full of hate and you have kept too much pain inside for too long. I love you, Sara and I’m going to make sure you believe it every second of the day.”

Still looking down she whispered, “I think, I love you, too,” so quietly she almost couldn't be heard.

“Marry me, Sara.”

“I can't, Sam. Someday you will want the family I can't give you.”

“Look what we have already gone through and in only three weeks. I'm certain we will survive anything. Be strong like your iron nail, but bend a little … for me.”

She couldn't answer him, but still held on, never wanting it to end.

It was quarter-past-ten when the sound of sleigh bells could be heard. They both rose from their places and Sara tidied up while Sam went to the door and welcomed their chauffeur inside. “Tom, I didn't expect to see you.”

Sara recognized him as the bank manager but didn’t know his name. He had the advantage over her, as the file for this particular farm was at this moment sitting on his desk.

Sam introduced the two and added, “I didn't think you would leave the office, especially in the morning.”

Tom shook Sara's hand, saying, “Doc Brown said you really weren't well. You must be feeling much better.” After Sara smiled and nodded, he turned to his boss adding, “It is Sunday, Mr. Fielding. You know how people frown on work on the Sabbath.”

“Sunday?” Sam glanced at Sara, who didn't seem to realize the day either. “I guess I have lost track of the days.”

“If we leave soon, we will be back in Brandon before Sunday services are out.”

“Good thinking, Tom.” Turning to Sara he added, “We'll get you to town before the crowds are on the streets and any gossiping can get started. Mary will be visiting her sister until evening, so that gives us the day to get you settled in.”

It was obvious by Tom's expression he had no idea what was going on, but he also knew unless Mr. Fielding offered any information, it was really none of his concern.

They quickly loaded Sara's belongings. The crate of chickens was tied onto the back of the vehicle and an old blanket placed over it to keep out most of the cold. Dickens gave himself a good shake as he came out of the small building and eagerly walked to his place behind the sleighs.

When they were ready to leave, Sam found Sara standing at the gate of the tiny cemetery, her shawl pulled tightly around her. He offered her his arm and together they walked back in silence.

The step up to the seat was high and difficult for Sara to manage. It tired her greatly and after they were settled together, Sam's arm around her, Tom covered them both with a heavy buffalo robe.

She quietly asked, “Is he a good man, Sam?”

Loud enough so Tom could hear he answered, “Don't worry, he won't tell anyone anything he shouldn't. Right, Tom?”

Their driver turned and smiled at Sara, “Right, Mr. Fielding.”

It was about an hour and a half ride back to Brandon. The trail from Doc Brown's sleigh was still open and by now was making a good road, at least until the next wind would fill it in with soft snow. Sara slept most of the way, being comfortable under the heavy hide, next to the man she was learning to feel safe beside.

Sam quietly asked Tom, “How is everything at the bank?”

“I stopped at Brett Cumming's yesterday. He broke his leg at the new mill last week. He expected to repay the loan the first of the month, but he wants us to carry him, interest-free, until he can get back to work. It could be three months or better.”

“He knows we can't do that. It is unfortunate, but business is business. He doesn't have much collateral either, the home they are living in and the mill. I guess it will have to be one or the other. How many kids do they have?”

“Three and one due next month.”