Chapter 7

Near Troyon, France

Spring 1916

The thunder of gunfire echoed, startling Susan from a doze. She shuddered and rolled over, reaching out for a familiar shape, but no one was there.

Sitting up, she threw off the blankets and opened the back door of the car. Sickly firelight glowed amid the fog, some way off, and there were more sounds of explosives far away on the hills.

She climbed down and hurried to the barn where the dressing station had entrenched itself.

'I'm back,' she said as she washed her hands. 'Where do you need me?'

Alastair glanced up from the desk where he was leaning over a stack of papers. 'Nurse Leyland is struggling at the far end, go and help her. Dressings need changing, and the young Frenchman who came in before you went to rest needs morphine, if you can find any.'

'I'll see what I can do.'

Nurse Leyland looked as exhausted as Susan felt. Stepping in beside her, Susan handed her a fresh bundle of bandages.

'Doctor Shaw asked me to join you,' she said. 'Who should I go to next?'

Leyland gestured halfheartedly to the boy cringing on the bed beside her. 'His side is...' she began, but her eyes finished the sentence for her. There was a distinct odour that told Susan more than enough. The next ambulance was due soon, but he would likely not be alive to see it.

She washed his brow and methodically began changing his dressings anyway.

'Doctor Shaw...' the nurse said as they worked side by side. 'Have you worked with him for long?'

'Yes, I've been his assistant for some time.'

'He seems so tireless. I don't think he's slept at all since he got here, has he? Janice told me he's been on duty every shift since you arrived.'

'He's an indomitable man,' Susan said calmly.

After a few hours she hurried to the mess tent to get a cup of tea and something to eat. On her way back she paused at the door to the surgery room as a man was carried out on a stretcher, covering her mouth for a moment against the smell. Then she glanced inside.

'Doctor?' she said.

Alastair was drying his hands on a clean cloth. He crossed to where she was standing, brushing his hair back from his brow.

'Are you alright?' he asked quietly.

'Yes, fine. Nurse Leyland said she had noticed you've been on duty for the past five days. One of the others mentioned it to her, I think the duty officer.'

He nodded. 'We've done what we can here. I'll tell the commandant I have to move on this afternoon.'

'Alright. Just tell me when we're leaving. If I have a moment I need to finish my letter to George.'

'Susan... You don't have to come with me, you know,' he said, touching her shoulder gently. 'I know this isn't easy.'

She gave him a flat look. 'Where else would I go, Alastair? Don't be absurd, please.'

He sighed, and they parted without another word.

Three hours later they were back in the car and driving north.

'Where are we going next?' Susan asked as they bumped along the road under the pressing weight of the bruise-black cloud-cover.

'I think we can go back to the Verdun camp, it's been a few weeks. I believe they've had an influx in the past few days, too. Another gas bombardment.'

Susan shuddered. 'God save us. Why must we keep discovering worse ways to die?' she said under her breath.

Even with the rumble of the engine, Alastair seemed to hear her and nodded. 'Human ingenuity knows no bounds, even when creating suffering.'

'Even, or especially?'

He sighed. 'I choose to believe the former. It eases my spirits.'

'Why are you here, Alastair?'

He gave her a puzzled glance, steering around another deep hole in the road. 'I don't follow.'

Searching for the right words, Susan stared out at the passing fields of mud and ash and barbed wire. 'Most of us are numb,' she said at last. 'Or already broken. But you still... have hope. I don't understand it.'

'I've seen these things before,' he said, shrugging. 'It will be over one day, though it seems endless now. All we can do is see to the present moment. It helps to smile, even when there seems nothing left to bring us happiness.'

'I'm glad I'm with you,' Susan said quietly. 'You make it easier for me to do that.'

They shared a brief look that was not quite a smile, but had the same warmth around the eyes.

'You know, some of the girls at the CCS were calling you 'Saint Luke',' she added.

Alastair chuckled wanly. 'A generous title.'

'It did make me think,' Susan said. 'There is something about you. The reason we must always keep moving. Why is it, exactly, that you never need to rest?'

'I take my rest in ways others do not always recognise,' he said, shaking his head. 'I'm not as tireless as they say.'

'But you don't sleep, do you? Even when you stay beside me. You take so little for yourself, and you give so much. Is saint such an overblown idea?'

'I take far more than you know. I am always keeping my needs in check, Susan. Sleeplessness seems like small penance, and at a time like this it is a mercy, at least if I can hide it from others.'

The crash of distant artillery made Susan jump, and they fell silent for a time. Alastair seemed to speed up a little more, the car thudding through potholes and over the pitted ground.

They soon reached Verdun. The facilities at the station there were some of the largest Susan had yet seen, the nearby battalions already months into an ongoing battle that saw no signs of stopping. The smell was like a wall as they got close, stopping Susan's breath, crushing her lungs with the overpowering stench of death.

Nobody seemed to care who they were went they arrived. Everyone here was transitory. None of the nurses or staff she remembered were still present, and Susan didn't pause to consider why. They got to work without hesitation.

Snatching a few minutes of sleep whenever she could was enough to carry her for a few days, she had discovered. Three was about her limit, but it was possible. When she did have to give in and pass out, she no longer had to plead with Alastair to join her; he would come to find her, checking her temperature, looking into her bloodshot eyes, and calmly lead her back to their safe haven in his car. He seemed to know now that she would not rest until he agreed to do so too.

At Verdun she pushed on for four days, brushing off his touch and attention when he checked on her. Hours seemed too vital to waste on sleep. More men were coming in every moment, the urgency demanding constant attention. Still, when he caught her as she swayed, her tea slipping out of her hands, she couldn't argue with him anymore.

'You will do more harm than good this way,' he murmured in her ear. 'Sleep. Please.'

'Come with me. I can't rest without you there,' she begged, feeling the aching shame of selfishness as she did so. He could go on and on without her, and she knew it, but even at the depths of her exhaustion she had found her thoughts would not be silent when he was still out there at work.

He nodded. 'I'll join you in a moment. Go and lie down.'

'Don't lie to me.'

He paused and looked her in the eye. 'I won't. I will be there. I just need to say a few words to the next shift.'

She went back to the car.

Her bag was under the seat. She took the opportunity of privacy to change her clothes, run a comb through her hair once - it was growing out again, ragged and messy from lack of care - and then lay herself in her makeshift bed, using her duffle bag as a pillow.

True to his word, Alastair followed her a little time later. He closed the metal door behind him and lay down carefully beside her, brushing a lock of hair back from her cheek as she turned towards him.

'Thank you,' she murmured, mumbling a little with sleep.

He shook his head a fraction, his eyes searching her face. 'I'm doing this to you, aren't I?' he whispered. 'It isn't safe for you any longer. You're driving yourself too hard.'

'There's nothing else to be done,' she said, struggling to stay awake enough to answer. 'No one is to blame, especially not you.'

'No, I think I am to blame,' he sighed, cradling her hands in his gloved ones. 'You think it is necessary to push yourself like this because you see what I do, but I am not a standard to which you should be held, Susan. I am something other, not just to you but to everyone here. I don't say as much to compliment myself, I only state the facts. What I can do is not natural. For you it would be deadly.'

'Not natural?'

He shrugged. 'In a manner of speaking.'

She twined their fingers together, holding onto him tightly. 'You've never been natural, love. I've known that for years. You look more youthful than I do, now, and you've been so ever since I've known you.'

'Then you should know better than to try to match me in hours,' he admonished tenderly, brushing her knuckles feather-light against his cold lips. 'I am afraid for you, Susan.'

Dreamy and a little dazed, she stared at him with wide eyes in the gloom. He had never kissed her like that before.

'Don't be afraid,' she whispered. 'I'll be alright.'

'You must take better care of yourself,' he pleaded. 'I used to think that selflessness might be my path to atonement, but I have discovered otherwise with time. Giving all of yourself and not holding any back to protect your being is never a safe practise. Don't forget, if you destroy yourself, you can help nobody. If you are to care for others, you must first be well enough to do so.'

Susan ran her fingertips across his pale cheek, wonder or exhaustion making her feel dizzy.

'I know what you are now,' she said, marvelling.

His expression tensed. 'Oh?'

She smiled, warmth flooding her face. 'Yes. You are an angel, darling. I should have realised it years ago.'

The chuckle broke his stillness and he shook his head at her wryly. 'If I am of some biblical design, then I assure you, I am far to the other end of the spectrum,' he said softly. 'But... I am selfishly flattered that you think so well of me.'

'I think everything of you, you know. There's nothing in the world that can make me feel happy here anymore except for you.'

His smile seemed to shake, and he nestled his cheek against her palm softly, his eyes filling with some unfathomable grief.

'Dear heart... I can't begin to say how sorry I am that you are suffering all this.'

'I am certainly not suffering,' she retorted hastily. 'I didn't mean to sound so maudlin. I only...'

'Don't do that. Don't try to tell me everything is alright. I understand how terrible this is for you, I'm not a fool,' he said, his hand stroking her shoulder lightly through the blanket, seeming unaware of the caress. 'I've been in places like this before - maybe never quite as hideous as this, I admit, but as close as may be - but you must see this all anew. You are so young and so kind, and to see such pain, such horror...'

She laughed a little and shook her head at him. 'So young, Alastair? I'm thirty-seven now, you know. I'm not the child I once was. Nobody should be here, darling, not me, not you, and certainly not all those poor boys who are dying as we speak. Let's not talk of my suffering any longer. It makes me feel ungrateful for all the wonderful years I have had, when children half my age are being shot and gassed and drowned all around us.'

He sighed and closed his eyes. 'Yes, you're right. I know I am blinded by you at times. It's hard to keep perspective when I worry every moment over your safety.'

'Don't be so ridiculous. You mustn't worry over me. There are far more important things to think about.'

'Not to me.'

For a moment Susan found that she had no more words in her head. Then she took a breath, shaky and confused.

'How did all this happen to us?' she whispered. 'I never thought for a second that I would fall in love with you, Alastair, but now I can't imagine not loving you like this.'

His eyes flashed open and he gazed at her speechlessly for several seconds.

'No...' he breathed at last. 'No, you mustn't think of that. You mustn't feel that way.'

'Why? I'm a grown woman, don't I have a right to make up my own mind?'

'No, I... I would never... By God's grace, Susan, I can't begin to tell you how much I care for you, I do, but- I am not in a position to love you as you deserve.'

'Oh, don't be so upset,' she sighed. 'Nothing is the way it should be anymore. I don't care what you are, angel or demon or saint or sinner. I've known you for more than twenty years, old friend, and you've only grown more beautiful to me with time. When we go home from this awful place, I think you should marry me and make us both happy.'

He gave a broken kind of laugh and pressed her thumb against his lips, squeezing his eyes shut. 'Oh Lord in heaven... If I could... I would treasure you, Susan. For eternity, if you asked it of me. But I can't do that to you. I could never be your husband, not the kind you deserve. I never stay in one place, I never go back somewhere twice - you would be just as alone as before. It would be too cruel to you.'

'You'd still write to me, wouldn't you?' she said lightly. 'It wouldn't be so bad. I could come to meet you sometimes, perhaps in New York or Dallas or Salt Lake, wherever you might go. I'd like to visit new places with you. I've had a husband in the navy - a husband who is driven to move on by an angel's hands is hardly so different.'

'If anything, I am driven by the hounds of a hell of my own making,' he muttered, resting his brow against hers. 'No, Susan, I couldn't do it. I couldn't cage you that way. You know yourself that I am... not an ordinary man. I would go on and on as I always have, and you would be alone, with nothing but empty promises to keep you company. Please don't ask it of me any longer.'

'Alright,' she whispered, and sighed. 'No wedding, then. I will not be your bride. But you can't stop me from loving you, dear.'

'You shouldn't, you know. I'm not the man you think I am.'

'Whatever you are, you are good.'

'That's precisely what I'm trying to tell you. I am the very opposite.'

'Nonsense,' Susan stated firmly. 'I've been by your side for months now, and I've known you for too many years before that. You can't try to tell me falsehoods forever. Just admit that you are a kind and gentle man, and we can come to an accord.'

He laughed softly and shook his head at her. 'You see only my fight for forgiveness. Your graciousness reflects upon your generous nature, but it says nothing of mine.'

'You won't convince me,' she decided. 'So you needn't keep trying. Let's forget the question of moral goodness, since it's so contentious.'

'As you wish,' he smiled. 'Now, you've let me disturb you for too long. You need to sleep.'

'I shall,' she promised wryly. 'If you will kiss me goodnight.'

For a moment he hesitated, a knot between his brows, and then it released into a soft smile.

'If you would like it.'

She nodded.

With tender eyes, he brushed her hair back from her cheek, rubbed his thumb against her jaw, searched her face for any hint of uncertainty. He found none, only calm affection. Then he kissed her lips, light and easy as the breeze.

'I will love you for as long as I live, sweet heart,' he murmured, soft against her skin.

She closed her eyes and smiled, and for the first time in months her dreams were full of summer.