{Chapter One}
Lena Hart stepped into the hallway of the makeshift hospital in London. A new shipment of wounded soldiers had come in during the night and they were all finally settled into beds and accounted for. She closed her eyes tight and pinched the bridge of her nose trying to clear her mind of the blood and carnage she had expertly maneuvered through all night. She inhaled deeply, focusing on her breathing, trying to compose herself for a moment before reentering the infirmary.
As she breathed, her mind wondered to thoughts of her older brother Frank. He had fought in the war against the Germans, and had died defending his country and countrymen only eight months ago. The telegram her family received said that he died in action and his body could not be recovered. Blasted apart by bombs dropped by enemy planes…
Lena shook her head trying to dispel the image from her mind. Her brother had gone so quickly, with so much to live for. That is why she had volunteered with the Red Cross. She felt she needed to do something, help in some way. For Frank, and for all of the soldiers who fought so valiantly.
Her eyes snapped open as her thoughts were interrupted by a young man in uniform who had apparently been trying to get her attention for some time now. He was tall, with dark hair and brilliant blue eyes, and a smile that cocked to one side making him seem boyish. He smiled and looked at her quizzically, as if awaiting an answer to a question she had not heard.
"I'm sorry, I beg your pardon?" Lena said, as she straightened her rumpled nurse uniform.
"I was asking if you knew the names of the soldiers on this floor, I'm looking for a friend of mine." He smiled warmly.
She stared at him, fixated on his friendly smile. Then, realizing she was staring for far too long apologized, "Yes of course, forgive me, I had very little sleep last night. My mind is all jumbled." She walked over to the desk outside the infirmary. "What was the name you were looking for?"
"Jackson O'Riley." He offered, still smiling his crooked smile.
"O'Riley, O'Riley…" She scanned the names on her list, running her finger down the page. She could feel him staring at her. I must look awful, and he finds it amusing, she thought. "Here it is, Jackson O'Riley admitted yesterday evening. Broken leg and multiple cuts and bruising, I'm afraid. I'll take you to see him."
"Thank you, ma'am."
She led him through the doors into the infirmary. Soldiers were tucked into evenly spaced, sterile, white beds which lined the walls. She led him past a line of soldiers to the back corner of the infirmary, to a bed near a window.
"Here he is. He is sleeping now, but when he wakes, I'm sure a familiar face will lift his spirits."
"Thank you, I really appreciate your help." The man said as she gave a slight smile, nodded, and turned to leave.
She wished she would have learned his name. She assumed he would be there when she did her rounds tomorrow, or that she would see him regularly visiting his friend. She thought she would have another opportunity to see him smile and that he would ask her her name and they would be introduced. She thought all of these things and fell into her bed thinking about his crooked smile. But fate had different plans. When she returned to the infirmary the following morning, she was told that she was being reassigned to the front lines. They were in desperate need of nurses, and she had been one of the nurses chosen to go. Later that day she was loaded onto an army supply truck with six other nurses and she watched the make-shift hospital disappear from view. The hope of seeing his smile again disappearing with it.
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