Die Once Live Twice (10 page)

The second and third days of Katherine’s visit were jovial times for Patrick. The men began to enjoy her company, as she went to the bedside of all those near Patrick and spoke with them. Reticent at first, the men gradually began to tell her about their war, facing musket balls and bayonets, watching their companions slaughtered. She smiled patiently at their bravado and sympathized with their helplessness. Dependent on nurses for everything, they had lost their self-esteem, their manliness. She had learned how to help them: talk of their future, their dreams. She taught the nurses to boil their water and explained the added safety. “Miss Lovington,” Abel Johnson said to her, “you’re our very own Florence Nightingale.” When she left for the hotel the second evening, they all hollered over to Patrick how lucky he was.

On her last day, Katherine told Patrick that she planned to return in a month, and stay until Patrick was released so that she could bring him home. “If I’m in a cast, we’ll need a railcar. Lying down would be much easier on the leg.”

“Please do not worry about that, Patrick. I’ll buy a railcar if I need to. Nothing will stop me from getting you home,” Katherine answered with her smile.

“Can you stay after dark tonight?”

“Yes. Yes, I’ve decided I will, Patrick. I made arrangements with the head nurse. You are more important to me than decorum right now.”

Patrick beamed and took several deep breaths. Even the anticipation of Katherine touching him made him stiffen. “I wish it were winter, not July,” he said happily, “so darkness would descend sooner.”

At five o’clock, Secretary of War Edwin Stanton walked onto the ward with two bodyguards. As the men in the ward stared in astonishment, Stanton went to Patrick’s bedside and greeted both Patrick and Katherine. He spoke for a few minutes with Patrick and then to Katherine. “Miss Lovington, I know this is the time you return to your hotel, so I came to accompany you tonight. President Lincoln is dining at the Willard and wants to meet you. Arthur Hampton said that you would be able to discuss some arrangements between the Army and Donovan & Sullivan. Please join me.” He extended his elbow.

“But...not tonight!” Patrick blurted out.

Secretary Stanton looked at him in surprise. “I am afraid there is no other night, Captain. The President said it was urgent.” Patrick fumed silently.

Katherine put her index finger to her lips and leaned to kiss him politely good-bye. “I’ll see you within the month, my love. Until then, I will miss you with all my heart.” To Stanton she said, “What an honor it will be to meet President Lincoln.” Patrick watched her go, then reached for his whiskey.

Chapter Nine

T
he Campbell Hospital doctor came by Patrick’s bed and declared his femur bone healed. “No cast is necessary. Besides, we’re short of plaster,” he murmured as he left the bedside. “Nurse O’Reilly, you can remove the traction.”

When his leg was free Patrick exclaimed in surprise, “My leg feels so light. It doesn’t feel like my leg.” He sat up to look at his leg for the first time in three months. His muscle was severely atrophied and he could see his leg bowed outward where the bone had been broken. Panic filled his brain.
It’s not my leg. It’s a stick. A crooked stick. I’ll never walk right.

“I want to stand up,” Patrick said forcefully.

“Why, let’s get you out of bed,” Patricia drawled back. “I’ll fetch a wheelchair.”

While she scurried away, Patrick swung his legs over the edge of the low bed and planted his feet easily on the floor. He sat there just two minutes and his left lower leg and foot began to throb. He looked down and it was purple and swollen. “Sweet Jesus,” he said out loud in fear and with his two hands lifted his leg back into the bed. He rested on his elbows so he could watch his leg, which quickly became white again. When Patricia returned with the wheelchair he told her he wasn’t getting up into it and why. She explained the blood was pooling in the lower leg, causing the purple color and swelling. It would improve day by day.

Patrick sat up every hour and each time he hung his leg a bit longer. By the afternoon of the second day he could tolerate the ache. “Patricia, bring me some sticks—I am going to stand. Then walk.” When he stood it started all over again. Now his whole leg throbbed and swelled. He couldn’t take it after two minutes. “Damn, damn,” he cursed loudly.

“It will take a couple of days again, Captain.” From across the room Abel gave him advice. “And when you start walking it will take a couple more days just to go the length of this ward. Nothing to do but tough it out.”

Patrick figured it out. He stood every hour until he could feel the ache become dull, then began taking steps. Ten steps on the sticks. Then twenty. Finally he could walk the length of the ward. Five days after he first sat up, Patricia arrived at his bedside with a large, heavy-duty wooden wheelchair with a tall back and tight wooden wheels. “Where are we going in that thing?” Patrick asked.

“You are going outside for the first time in three months, Captain.”

Patricia helped Patrick get settled in the chair, and as she wheeled him towards the door the other men in the ward lightly applauded. Abel hollered out, “You’ll love the meadow, Captain. I’ve been there. It has beautiful flowers. Careful now, don’t lie down on the roses,” he laughed.

“I don’t intend to be lying down.”

“Oh, so you’re going to be doing it standing up, then? That’s quite a fast recovery!”

“Hush, Patrick,” Patricia said. “They will have their fun and you can’t stop them. It’s jealousy.”

Patrick looked up at her, his eyes narrow, “Have you been to this meadow before, Patricia?”

“Only alone.” She smiled.

Patricia had picked the spot for their first lunch together in the meadow about five hundred yards from the ward. Thick groves of trees surrounded a clearing of soft grass that offered a view of the river. Patrick was thrilled to be outdoors again and closed his eyes as he lifted his face to the sunlight. The grass smelled so sweet Patrick could nearly taste it. “I feel as if I’ve come alive again, Patricia. I can’t wait to feel the earth under me again.”

Patricia was sure his excitement would make the moment more memorable. “How about we get you out of that chair. We’ll lay out this blanket right here for our picnic. It will not be like your fancy Philadelphia food, but it will be the finest lunch you’ve had in months.”

Patrick pushed himself up with his hands on the arms of the wheelchair and planted his bare feet on the grass. “Whoopee,” he hollered as he wiggled his toes, feeling the blades between them. He hopped three or four steps and lowered himself onto the blanket. Patricia unpacked the basket item by item. Deviled eggs, baked chicken, and bread were soon laid out. Patrick let out a laugh as he lifted the whiskey bottle. “Where in the world did you get all of this? I haven’t seen food like this since the war began.” As they ate, Patricia described her morning spent cooking eggs and chicken. Patrick laughed and joked with her. It was the most social he had felt in three months.

Patricia leaned over to pick up his plate, but he seized one of her hands and kissed it. She leaned over and kissed his lips as she pulled him down on the blanket. With her right breast on his chest she undid two of his shirt buttons and ran her hand through his chest hair. Patrick gasped and reached for her breast. She moaned as his hands pulled her bodice free. Soon her breast hung free. Feeling his tongue flicker along her hardened nipple sent a wave of euphoria through her body. Quickly she worked the buttons of his trousers and stroked him as he throbbed in her hand. Very deliberately, she stood up letting her camisole slide to the ground. Patrick had never even seen Katherine stand so proudly naked. “My dear Patricia. Please, come to me. I am on fire.”

“I will tend the fire.” She pulled his trousers down his legs and went to her knees. “Now I am on fire, too. But see,” she took his penis and touched it to herself. “I am already wet enough to help.” She mounted him and Patrick arched his back, digging his good foot into the ground as she slowly slid up and down. He opened his eyes momentarily to see her riding him in ecstasy, her large breasts swaying above him in erotic motion. He grasped her small waist with both hands and helped shift her light frame, enhancing their pleasure until without warning he burst deep inside her. Feeling his intensity she rode faster as he let out a scream of pleasure which she matched moments later. Unable to part, their throats dry with passion, they laid intertwined. “My God, Patricia, you’ve made me feel like a man again.”

“You always were a man. You just needed someone to give it to.”

“I’ve never felt anything like that. I, when I can walk again...”

“Shh, darling, don’t worry about walking. I am going to teach you new pleasures.”

Guilt plagued him all through the night. When she came to him the next morning, he whispered tensely, “Patricia, what happened between us yesterday...well, it should not happen again.”

Patricia nodded slowly. “Patrick, I only wanted you to regain your confidence again,” she said, leaning down to tuck in his sheets. “You give me pleasure beyond anything I could have imagined. My body is still tingling. Why, I’m even a little sore. How are you?”

Patrick closed his eyes. “Patricia, I wish... You must understand... Katherine...”

She poured a little whiskey into the cup by his bed. “Of course I understand. We have so little time together. Soon it will all be over.” With his traction gone and no cast required, she knew his discharge from the Army would be delivered and he could go home within a week. “Patrick. I only want you to feel the strength in yourself again.”

He reached over and took her wrist. He was truly fond of Patricia apart from the lovemaking. She had been his friend and companion. The pleasure that flowed from her in their frenzies left him needing her in a way that was different than Katherine. He reached for the whiskey. “Yes, you’re right,” he said. “It’s just for now.”

One week later, in the entrance hall to Campbell Hospital, Katherine was speaking with the chief nurse. “I came a day early to take Patrick Sullivan home to Philadelphia. I spoke with Secretary Stanton, who notified me of his discharge. Patrick thinks he’s leaving the day after tomorrow, but I wanted to surprise him. We are booked on the nine o’clock Army train tomorrow. Is there any problem with this change of plans?” “No, Miss Lovington. It is so hectic here, and all of Washington, that we are most happy to have you be responsible.”

“In fact, I will take him with me to the Willard Hotel tonight.” The idea had just come to Katherine, and a chance to bed down with Patrick was exciting. “Yes, that is what I’ll do. It would ease our travel to the train station tomorrow. May I do that?”

“Certainly. His papers are ready, and once he is in your custody the Army will not control him until—if—he is called back for duty. Go and spring your surprise on him. He should be so excited to see you.”

Katherine remembered her way to the officers’ ward, where she found Patrick’s bed empty. She looked around and saw the old lieutenant, who recognized her. “You lookin’ for the Cap’n?”

“Yes. Where could he be?”

“Out for a walk, I s’pect. He’s a racehorse on crutches now,” the old vet chuckled.

“I’ll bet he is. I can’t wait to see him.” Katherine was so proud he was mobile. Surely that lifted his depression.

“I think it’s best if you just have a seat and wait for him to come back.”

“Oh, I think I’ll go out and surprise him. I can’t wait to see his face. Which way would he go?”

“That I don’t know. It’d be a wild guess.”

“Okay, I’ll just look around. If he comes back without me, don’t tell him I’m here.”

“I sure won’t.”

As Katherine walked out, Abel turned to his roommates and said, “Close all the hatches, boys. The Cap’n is about to be blown up.”

Katherine walked the grounds for nearly half an hour without finding Patrick. As she came back to Patrick’s ward to see if he’d returned, she noticed the meadow and decided to check there as a last resort. Following a well-worn path, she paused to listen and search for any clue of him. She saw an opening ahead that clearly led to the river.
Perhaps he’s sitting on the bank of the river dreaming of home.
As she drew near to the water she saw a small grove of trees with a blanket spread on the ground. She heard two voices laughing and she walked warily toward them, not wanting to intrude.