The Vacant Chair (5 page)

Disturbed by her reaction, Brianna sternly reminded herself she had a job to do. He was a patient, and she was his nurse. Nothing more. And he no doubt already had a wife or a flock of worried women waiting for him back in Michigan.

****

 When Brianna—he didn’t want to think of her as Mrs. Taylor—returned that evening, Justin felt well enough to give her a wan smile of greeting. A spark of hope burned in his chest. Had she heard anything about Mitch?  She set a palm to his forehead and he had to withhold a sigh at the blessed coolness of her skin against his.

He waited until she turned from the bed before speaking, careful to take shallow breaths to spare the wound in his side. “Did you find out anything about my brother?”

“Not yet, but I’ll keep checking.” She bent to pick up a washbasin and stopped dead, her gaze fixed on his bandages. “Captain, have you any idea when your wound began bleeding again?” 

“No. Is it?” Shifting gingerly, he tried to look down at the bandages, but the movement made him break into a cold sweat.

He lay still while she pulled the blankets down to his hips and removed the stained bandages from his side. Her brow knitted in concentration, the sweep of her dark lashes casting shadows on her ivory skin. She lifted her eyes to his, presumably watching for signs of pain as she tested the wound with a fingertip. Despite his resolve not to flinch, he tensed and bit back a wince.

She frowned. “It looks fine, but I’m going to put some carbolic acid on it to keep it from festering. I’ll clean your head wound too.” With a cloth dipped in some liquid from a bottle in her basket of supplies, her hand folded around his. It seemed so delicate in his grasp. “Hold on and breathe out slowly.” When he did, she dabbed it onto the raw flesh. The hot burst of pain sucked the remaining breath out of his lungs. He clenched his jaw, tightening his grip on her hand. She spoke to him in soothing tones until she had thoroughly cleansed both wounds and sprinkled a few grains of what he sincerely hoped was morphine into them.

Fighting for breath though the effort hurt his ribs, he pried open his blurry eyes, skin slick with sweat.

“All finished, Captain.”

He expelled a long sigh and met her gaze, relaxing without removing his hand from hers. He liked her touch too much to let go.

Her expression turned serious. She didn’t pull from his grasp and he was glad. “I didn’t find anyone who’d seen your brother yet, but that doesn’t mean something’s happened to him.” She kept her voice low so as not to awaken the other patients. “There are so many wounded coming in… I’ll keep looking. Someone will know something about him.” 

“Thank you,” he murmured, concentrating on the way her thumb caressed his hand, offering sympathy and hope at the same time. It was impossible to believe that his devil-may-care brother might be dead. The shock of it numbed him. He was too exhausted to even contemplate the full implication of it. 

When a doctor came by a moment later, Brianna pulled her hand away and cleared her throat. “I’m leaving for the night and won’t be back until morning. Other staff members will help you if you need anything. Please rest as much as you can, and I’ll come check on you as soon as I’m able.” She rose. “Perhaps then I can help you write a few letters for back home. In the meantime I’ll keep trying to find your brother.” 

“Thank you.” He hated to see her go.

Her smile was gentle, a little sad. “Try not to worry about him too much. He hasn’t been brought here, so that’s a good sign.”

Or it meant he’d been killed, and they’d buried him somewhere close to the battlefield he’d fallen on.

Fighting back the dread in his gut, Justin forced a nod.

Rather than leave, Brianna studied him for a moment then gave a little shake of her head. “You’re very lucky, you know. Men die here every day from wounds much less serious than yours, so there must be a reason why the bullet and the fever didn’t kill you. Try to remember that.” Her gaze mirrored his sorrow, as though she too understood the guilt he felt for surviving.

The war must have done that to her. She hid the hurt well beneath her composed exterior, but he could see it now in the depths of her eyes. Lying motionless, he savored the brush of her fingers over his forehead as she smoothed his hair back. Even though he’d noticed she did it to all her patients, Justin wasn’t immune to the warmth her touch left in its wake. 

“Good night, Captain.”

Trying to hide his disappointment when she withdrew her hand and walked away, he followed her with his gaze. When he closed his eyes, Justin called her face to memory to blot out the possibility that Mitch might be dead. With each of her retreating footsteps, he felt increasingly hollow inside.

Chapter Five

In the middle of writing a soldier’s letter the next afternoon, Brianna glanced up and noticed a man with his arm in a sling standing inside the open tent flap. She excused herself from her patient’s bedside and strode toward the newcomer, and her breath caught when she got a good look at his profile.

Before he even turned his head toward her, she knew exactly what shade of blue his eyes would be. When he noticed her, he removed his hat with a polite smile. Deep shadows lay beneath his eyes and lines of strain bracketed his mouth. He inclined his head. “Ma’am.”

She couldn’t help but smile. “Are you by chance looking for your brother?”

Those familiar indigo eyes widened in surprise. “Yes, ma’am. He’s Captain—”

“Captain Justin Thompson, Fifth Michigan Cavalry,” she finished for him. “I know. There’s a strong family resemblance.”

He stiffened. “Is he here? He’s alive?”

“Yes, and recovering well so far.”

The brother—Mitchell, she remembered—gave her a brilliant smile and let out a short laugh. His free hand came up over his heart and he sagged a bit. “I thought he’d died. I came to find out where he’d been buried. You don’t know how happy you’ve made me.”

Her heart raced with excitement. “Believe me, I’m glad I could help. He’ll be thrilled to see you, since he thought
you
were the one dead and buried.” They were both lucky to have survived the carnage at Cold Harbor. The casualty numbers had been horrific. “Come with me.”

Barely able to contain herself, she asked Justin’s brother to wait outside the tent then went to the captain’s bedside and laid a hand on his shoulder to wake him. Sleepy blue eyes focused on her and a slow smile of recognition touched his lips. Her heart tripped at the sight of it.

“Don’t tell me you’ve come to clean my wound again,” he said in a groggy voice.

She laughed and wrapped her arms about her waist. “No. I have a surprise for you instead.”

His gaze sharpened. “Surprise?”

“Yes, a wonderful one.” Brianna tightened her arms around herself to keep from bursting. “You have a visitor.”

Brianna’s eager smile made his heart thud as he gingerly eased up into a sitting position, moving inch by painful inch with her help. “Who is it?” he croaked, hardly daring to hope.

In answer, she glanced over her shoulder and motioned for the visitor to enter. When Mitch appeared in the open flap wearing a sling, Justin sagged against the pillows, eyes squeezing shut in relief, and when he opened them they stung with unshed tears.

Laughing, Mitch came over and bent to embrace him around the shoulders with his good arm, tousling Justin’s hair. “You look like hell,” he announced.

Justin grinned up at him. “You don’t look so good either.” His chest felt like it was going to split wide open from a mixture of pain and relief. “I didn’t know what happened to you. The last I saw of you was sailing off your horse and hitting the ground. I thought you were dead.”

Mitch snorted. “You don’t give me much credit, do you? It takes more than a busted collarbone to do me in.”

He fought back the lump in his throat so the little bastard wouldn’t know how emotional he was. His voice was rough. “It’s damned good to see you.”

Brianna snuck out of the tent before he could ask her to stay.

Mitch slid into a chair beside the bed, propped his bound arm on his stomach, and shook his head. “You have to be the luckiest son-of-a-bitch I know. Not only did you avoid the pearly gates, but here you are, doted on by the most beautiful nurse in Virginia, a born-and-bred southerner who just happens to have a soft spot for Yankees.”

“I know.”

Mitch’s eyes twinkled. “Is she spoken for?”

"Don’t even finish that thought,” he warned.

“Like her all that much, do you.” Mitch’s expression filled with mock horror. “What will Laurel say?”

The remark made Justin realize just how much he had missed the bastard. His glare brought a hearty gust of laughter from Mitch and a teasing poke in the chest. Justin growled in agony and when he was able to get his breath back, refocused on his brother with a glower. 

Mitch’s devilish grin evaporated. “Sorry.” He leaned over to peer more intently at Justin’s side. “Is it bad?”

“Bad enough.” He lifted the covers and revealed the bandages on his side. His brother made a face, paling as he saw how easily the bullet could have pierced Justin’s heart or lung.

Mitch gave a low whistle. “You were damned lucky.”

“I know it. I have Mrs. Taylor to thank. One of the doctors told me everyone else had written me off, but she had me personally moved into her ward, wouldn’t give up on me. If it weren’t for her, I would have died a few days ago.”

Besides being kind and gentle, she was skilled at her work. She did everything in a competent, self-assured manner, examining her patients as thoroughly as the doctors did. She rarely had to call on them for help, and when she did, it seemed to be the same surgeon, a younger man with a neatly trimmed, coppery beard. He always listened to her, appeared to treat her more like a colleague than a subordinate. From what Justin could tell, none of the other nurses received that kind of respect from the surgeons.

When the young doctor had come in earlier to check another patient’s progress with her, Justin had overheard them discussing complex medical terms that made him remember the texts she’d carried at White House Landing. She must have studied them from cover to cover to attain so much knowledge. Not only a skilled nurse, then, but a rare and highly educated one as well. Intelligence was one of the things he found most attractive in a woman. Combined with the attraction between them, it was no wonder his pulse quickened whenever she came near.

And that wasn’t all that quickened. He must already be on the mend, because his body reacted the instant she touched him. Twice now he’d had to bend a knee to tent the sheet over a pounding erection because of her hands on his bare skin. Hers and hers alone. Lucky for him she either hadn’t noticed or pretended not to, and a dose of carbolic acid in his wounds made short work of his aching arousal.

Justin couldn’t explain it, but in the short time he’d been here he’d already developed a strong attachment to her, and the attraction wasn’t merely physical. He sensed she was interested in him as well, though she remained completely professional in her dealings with him. He wasn’t sure how he knew. Something in her eyes perhaps, or in her touch.

Or maybe it’s wishful thinking.

As if hearing his thoughts, her voice rang out from the tent entrance. “Excuse me, gentlemen. I hope I’m not interrupting the happy reunion.” Her gaze fell on Mitch, who cocked his head and ran an appreciative eye over her. “I’d like to change your brother’s bandages so he can be more comfortable while he rests.” She handed Mitch her supplies, leaving him to juggle them awkwardly with his one good arm.

Bringing his knee up to hide his body’s inevitable reaction to her, Justin spared a glance at his brother. “I have the cleanest wound in the entire Eastern theatre.”

Brianna smiled in reply and set her dressing kit on the edge of the bed. He watched her face as she cut away the bandage and peeled it back without tearing the sutures. They were dark against his red, swollen skin. “I kept the stitches as close together as I could, but you’re still going to have quite a scar.”

His brows rose. “You stitched me up?” It was damn hard to ignore the trails of heat licking over his skin wherever she touched him.

“I did.” She reached for the bottle of carbolic acid and arched a sardonic brow. “Afraid you’ll burst open?”

“No, not at all.”

The hint of a dimple appeared in her right cheek as she turned her attention back to his wound. “I’m sorry I have to do this again.”

Well, at least his erection would go away now. Justin withheld a sigh and clenched his jaw, vowing to take the pain stoically in front of his brother. He didn’t make a sound when the now-familiar burn tore through the wound, but he was sweating and breathing fast as she finished, his side on fire. He lowered his knee, any threat of an erection long dead. Damn, he hated that stuff.

With efficient hands, Brianna re-covered the wound with moist lint, bound it tight and collected her supplies from Mitch, whose face was blanched of color. “Are you all right?” she asked him, a teasing note in her voice. “Is your arm bothering you? Perhaps I should have a surgeon look at it.”

“No,” Mitch blurted, unconsciously shifting to hold it away from her. “No, thank you, I’m fine. Tired is all.”

“Ah. Perhaps I’ll go find you something to eat, then.” She spared Justin a wink before leaving.

Justin let out a slow sigh when she disappeared through the flap, though it pulled at his stitches. “She’s something, isn’t she?” He hadn’t realized she’d sewn him together with her own hands. He’d bet most nurses weren’t granted that kind of latitude from the doctors.

Regaining some color, Mitch nodded. “Yeah. Something.”

Soon Brianna returned with bowls of beef stew and cornmeal cakes. Justin’s mouth watered at the scent. “Is your stomach up to trying something a little more hearty than broth?” she asked him.

“It’s willing to try.”

Mitch stood and offered her his chair. “Will you join us, ma’am?” 

She seemed startled by the invitation and glanced between them. “Oh. Well yes, I will join you for a moment. Thank you.” She passed them their meals and took her seat, folding her hands demurely in her lap. “Eat up before it gets cold.”

His empty stomach growling, Justin took a small spoonful and swallowed, relieved when it stayed down. He took another, keeping an eye on his nurse. There were so many things he wanted to know about her. As usual, his nosy brother wasn’t shy about asking questions.  

“So, Mrs. Taylor, where are you from?” Mitch asked her, balancing the bowl on one knee while he ate.

“Lexington, Kentucky.”

Prime horse farm country. Of course. Her knowledge about horses made perfect sense now.

Mitch’s brows went up. “You’re a long way from home.”

“I am, yes.”

“And—pardon my curiosity, but how is it that you are a Union sympathizer, ma’am?”

Justin fought back a groan at his brother’s bluntness.

She shifted in her chair, for the first time looking the slightest bit uncomfortable. Justin would have told Mitch to mind his own business, but he was curious about her too and stayed silent while she answered. “Kentucky is a border state, so there are plenty of Unionists. I’m proud to say my brother, Morgan, is a Union cavalryman too.” 

Mitch didn’t know when to leave well enough alone. “So then you have family fighting for the South as well?”

The barest tension pinched her expression. “Yes. My father.”

It wasn’t an uncommon story, yet Justin couldn’t imagine what it would be like to have his family divided by the war. From her closed expression and body language, he sensed she was uneasy with the turn in conversation. He aimed a warning glare at Mitch, who didn’t seem to notice her distress.

“And your husband?” he pressed, apparently having noticed her wedding ring. “Did he enlist as well?”

Brianna’s expression froze, something like grief flashing in her eyes.

“Mitch,” Justin warned, longing to smack him.

“No, it’s all right,” she answered. She lowered her eyes, paying a lot of attention to a pleat in her skirt. “I’m a widow. Three years this summer. But yes, he served in the army. The Union army,” she clarified.

Justin’s gaze automatically went to the gold band on her finger. The significance wasn’t lost on him. She might have lost her husband at the start of the war, but she hadn’t let him go yet. The realization was damned discouraging.

“Oh, sorry,” Mitch mumbled then cleared his throat. “Any other family?”

She shook her head, this time with a delicate blush staining her cheeks. Mitch frowned and exchanged a puzzled glance with him. 

Still fussing with her skirt, Brianna responded. “My mother died before the start of the war and I haven’t seen my father since it started, so other than my brother, I don’t really have any family left.”

The flash of sadness on her face made Justin long to stuff his brother’s booted foot into his flapping mouth. He aimed a withering glare at him instead, silently commanding him to stop talking.

“I’m sorry,” Mitch said, rubbing a hand over the back of his neck. “I wouldn’t have asked you had I known—”

She waved his concern away, the sadness evaporating into a calm, almost remote expression. “That’s all right. It’s all in the past now. What about you two? Do you have any family?”

“Our mother lives at home in Detroit,” Mitch answered.

She looked at Justin. “And your father?”

“Was killed in the Mexican War,” he said.

There it was again, that spark of understanding in her eyes. “Oh, I’m sorry.”

He shrugged, but before he could say anything else, Mitch broke in.

“That’s partly why we didn’t enlist right away when the war broke out. After what happened to him, our mother was beside herself at the idea of us going to the front.”