AN: I should also mention that although I don't kill him, Colin would have had an 80% chance of dying of his injuries in real life. Even if he survived the first few weeks it was almost guaranteed that he would eventually die as a result of his injuries and that he would die young. Given his economic situation he would have had a better chance of survival than most but he still would probably have died within a few years or at most a couple decades of his injury. Nowadays however, approximately 75% of SCIs are survivable and a majority of SCI patients, particularly paraplegics have a normal or near normal life expectancy and are able to be independent or partially independent. Most spinal patients today can have jobs, have a family, and live a mostly normal life if given the right treatment and accommodations. The life of a paraplegic today is hardly even comparable to the life of a spinal cord injury patient of the 1910s.

Chapter 7

Archie had gone again to speak with Dr. Hawthorne when a nurse came up to Colin's bed with warm water and towels. "Miss, you may want to step out for a moment, this part can be a bit grim." Mary stood, her face hardened. "Nurse, if it's all the same to you I would like to stay, I want to learn to care for him. I volunteer with the Red Cross, I know what to expect." This was only half true, Mary had indeed been volunteering at a convalescent hospital a few miles from Thwaite but she hadn't been allowed to do much more than roll bandages and pour tea for the officers. The nurse looked at her skeptically but nodded to her, handing her the bowl of warm water. She brought back the sheet which covered Colin, revealing his heavily bandaged legs. "There's new bandages in the cart. We're going to wash him, check his catheter and try to get him to use a bedpan -I will have to ask you to leave for that- and change his sheets, then clean and re-dress his other wounds. Then we will turn him so he is lying on his other side, this should help prevent bedsores from forming." Mary breathed in, Colin looked so weak lying there, asleep, unable even to go to the bathroom by himself. But he was her own blood, she loved him like a brother, and she would not let him be alone in his hour of need. It was so much worse than when he had been an invalid before the garden. Colin had never been the healthiest boy, even after he was no longer an invalid he had been prone to coughs and colds, but Mary had never seen him this weak and broken. She had seen him ill, and she had seen him so quiet and far away. The nurse was unbuttoning Colin's pajama top and Mary reached over to assist her in removing the top. It was almost like the night so many years ago when she had pronounced his back "lump-less" but now his chest was that of a man, muscular, and dotted with dark curls. She cringed when she saw that his chest now also harbored numerous cuts and bruises. They gently lifted him so as not to cause further damage to his spine. "It's actually rather good you're here Miss, normally two nurses are meant to do this, but we're running rather low on staff just now, it's between shifts at the minute. We need to turn him and it's very important that we don't move him too much, his spine is still very susceptible to further damage, the bones themselves won't be completely healed for another two months or so." Mary had learned to turn a patient but had never done it in such delicate circumstances. Mary held his shoulders as Nurse Anderson cleaned the wounds on his back and removed the sheets. Mary turned away briefly as Nurse Anderson cleaned Colin's lower half and changed his clothes. Then she returned to change the bandages on his legs.

Colin had begun to stir as they tended to him. Mary stroked Colin's forehead comfortingly, his thick dark locks fell messily about his forehead. Colin was muttering something under his breath which Mary couldn't quite understand, something about fire, something about the garden. Suddenly Colin's eyes shot open. His hand found Mary's and he stroked it in disbelief. His eyes were glassy and frantic, his skin was feverish. "The garden! Mary it's burning, it's burning Mary." Mary clutched at Colin's hands, she didn't know how to calm him. She just whispered "it's alright Colin, the garden is safe. You're safe! It's just a dream! I promise." Colin began to calm, his mind leaving his dream. He clutched Mary's hand tightly as the nurse gave him a sleeping pill. Soon he was resting quietly and Mary sat back, visibly shaken. Nurse Anderson poured Mary a glass of water, "they get like that sometimes, the war leaves most of them with nightmares, especially early on. They'll pass in time, it will be much better when his fever's passed." Mary drank the water gratefully. It was so unbelievably hard to see Colin like this, to know she could do nothing. She voiced the thought which had grown in her as she had been tending Colin. "This is what I want to do Nurse, when he gets home I mean. He will need so much care, and like you said, it's too much for one nurse. I want to care for him, to make him well!"

Nurse Anderson studied Mary intently. "Its hard work you know Miss, physically, and emotionally. It takes a good deal of strength, especially to nurse family. And caring for your cousin isn't going to be like nursing someone through an illness. He'll need round the clock care at first, like an infant, he'll have to learn how to do just about everything over again. And even when he's recovered he will probably need some form of nursing for the rest of his life. He may need help getting dressed, getting in and out of bed even. He'll be prone to bed sores and bladder infections. He will have problems with blood circulation and he will probably be incontinent. And then there's the pain, he may struggle with a good deal of pain, possibly for a very long time. And you'll have to be there with him through the hardest transition of his life. He'll be angry at the things he cannot do and he'll likely lash out at whoever cares for him." She pursed her lips sadly.

"Many of the men in his condition feel as though they are a burden, it takes them a very long time to accept injuries like these. You'll have to be strong for him at a time when you're still dealing with his injury yourself. You can't let yourself believe that anything you do will make him walk again because ten to one it won't." Mary hardened herself. She had become an expert at pushing her emotions aside and presenting a strong, hardened exterior, as a child in India. It was a skill she had never lost. She straightened up, standing as tall as she could.

"I know it's going to be hard for him, but I want to do it. He needs me, he won't really trust anyone else. He grew up quite... sheltered, and he hates doctors. If I'm not there for him, I'll regret it forever." Nurse Anderson nodded. "Alright, you can start participating in his care tomorrow. But we need you in top shape so I'd like you to go home for the night. You have to take some time to care for yourself too."

Mary smiled sadly and nodded, and sat back in the chair near Colin's bed, taking up his hand again. "Alright, I'll go as soon as Uncle Archie is finished with the doctor."

The night of June 20, at the London Flat

When Mary reached her room in Archibald's small but comfortable London flat she collapsed on the bed, she hid her face in a pillow and cried like she couldn't ever remember crying before. Her fingers balled the lace throw of the beautifully made bed until her knuckles turned white. She sobbed until her lungs felt like they would burst out of her corset, she couldn't breathe, and she gasped and sobbed until she could not cry anymore. Then she lay there, her body still wracked with heavy silent sobs. Mary's tears had almost subsided when she heard a soft knock on the door. She managed to choke out a soft "come in" and a girl entered her room, she was pretty, and couldn't be any older than Mary herself. She wore the plain dress of a servant and had long dark hair braided into a long plait which hung halfway down her back. She carried a tea tray. She put the tray on a small table and came over to Mary offering a handkerchief. There was something wonderfully comforting about her which made Mary collapse into tears again. The girl sat next to Mary on her bed and took her in her arms. She murmured comfortingly into Mary's hair. "Have your tears, Miss Mary, it will all look better tomorrow." Eventually Mary quieted and the girl offered her a cup of tea. "Try and eat something too, he needs you strong." She looked at a portrait of Archibald, Mary, and Colin which stood on the bedside table and murmured. "They both do." Mary sipped the hot strong tea and looked more closely at this girl. She certainly was different from most servants, well except perhaps Martha. And she spoke with a thick accent which Mary couldn't quite place. Russian perhaps? She was darker too, than most English girls. Her eyes were dark brown and her hair was very curly and almost black. Her skin was not nearly the dark color of the natives in India, but it was certainly a few shades darker than Mary's own alabaster complexion. Her dress was dark, although Mary could not quite tell the color in the darkened room, and she wore a pale apron. She was young enough that her skirt still reached a few inches above her ankles. This meant that she was around Mary's own age. The servant girl had stood, and was retrieving a lace edged nightgown from the wardrobe. Mary's trunk must have been brought up and unpacked while they were with Colin. "Thank you." Mary said softly as she finished her tea and began to pick at the dinner on the tray. "I can wait if you are ready to go to bed if you like, do you need help with buttons or a corset?" Mary wiped her eyes with the back of her hand. "Yes, thank you, the dress buttons up the back." Mary took off her coat and hat and stood in front of the mirror as the girl came up next to her with a night dress and dressing gown. She helped Mary change and then unpinned Mary's hair. She brushed it out, secretly she marveled at the golden locks, so unlike her own wild dark curls. She had never seen such hair, even the girl's in her village back home who had had blonde hair had never had such straight pale golden locks as Mary's. Mary smiled sadly at the girl, she needed a friend just now, even if this girl would probably think it extremely strange for a young lady like Mary to speak to her. "What's your name?" Mary asked politely.

"I'm Rutka, Miss Mary."

"I hope you don't mind my asking, but, where are you from? I've never heard an accent quite like yours." Rutka smiled "I'm from Russia, I've been here about six years." Rutka finished taking Mary's hair down and braid in it loosely to be comfortable as she slept. She patted Mary's shoulder indicating she had finished. "There, I must leave for the evening in a while so I hoped you would be home from the hospital so I could meet you. I don't want to be forward, but I have never been a ladies maid so I hope you do not mind me... my mother says I go on a bit sometimes."

Mary smiled sadly. "No, I love it, honestly I need a little distracting conversation after the day I've had." Rutka laid her brush on the table and faced Mary with a concerned look on her face, "Oh Miss, I'm so sorry," she faltered slightly and looked down unsure whether to go on. "It is your cousin isn't it?" She paused again, and continued much more quietly. "Is he very badly injured. When your uncle asked us to make up his room, he said he might need space for a nurse."

Mary nodded, wiping her eyes free of the tears which had suddenly sprung to them. "His back was broken, some debris hit him when he was in the field and broke his spine. He won't be able to walk anymore. He can't walk, or run, or even just stand in the sunshine ever again!" Her tears began to flow freely again and soon Rutka had gathered her in her arms. "Sha, sha, Miss, it will look better in the morning. Remember, he is home now, he will come home soon. And maybe his life will be different now yes, but he will have a life, he is so lucky to have a life, to have you and his father to love him. That is all he needs."

Once Mary had composed herself she pulled slightly away and took Rutka's hand. "Thank you, I needed that. I think I'm alright now." She sighed. "I just hope he doesn't take it terribly hard, he doesn't deserve this, he's come so far." Rutka squeezed Mary's hand and smiled sadly. "Of course he doesn't deserve this. No one does. It was war, no one deserves the pain they are dealt, not even in war." She sighed and looked into Mary's eyes. "I have a brother, Chaim. He's 16, a little over five years ago, just after we came to this country, he got very sick, the doctor called it infantile paralysis. He was such an active child, always running and jumping. And then suddenly it was all gone, he couldn't run, he couldn't walk without support, he still can't. He probably never will. People like him, and like your cousin, we think they are invisible. People stare, but they try not to see them because it is too painful to see how our bodies can be broken. But they are here, they are everywhere, going to school, trying to work, just living." Mary smiled slightly, she had never heard it put this way but it was true, this was the shame that Colin had felt before he had learned to walk. There was no reason for it, it was simply how people had seen Colin. She hated that there was nothing she could do to make his life easier but she would certainly try. She would fight every minute for Colin to have a normal life.

Mary realized she had been sitting in silence for several minutes when Rutka started and looked out of the window at the sun, which was beginning to set. She stood hastily.

"Oh, Miss! I'm so sorry, Shabbos is starting and I must run! I'll send someone up for your tray! If I'm not home by sundown my parents will not allow me to return to work." Rutka turned and nearly flew down the stairs. Mary was quite confused, having barely understood Rutka's reason for her abrupt departure. She sat silently and picked at her dinner before falling asleep looking at a photograph of Colin and Dickon, their army uniforms crisp, their faces caught in a fit of laughter, and their arms flung around each other in boyish excitement. She slept soundly and dreamlessly, exhausted by the day's emotional upheaval. When she woke the next morning, the photo was streaked with tears.