Phoebe stood behind the curtained partition in her little corner of the hospital ward and looked down at the new chemise and underdrawers she had just put on. Unlike the muslin hand-me-downs from Widow Garlock, these were made of fine white cotton and trimmed with eyelet and tiny rows of tucks. “You didn’t need to go and make these underthings so frilly,” she told Julia. “Ain’t nobody gonna see them but me.”
“But it’s nice to wear pretty things, isn’t it?” Julia asked. “I know it always makes me feel good.”
Phoebe sat down on the bed and pulled on a pair of new woolen stockings. They felt soft and smooth and had a fancy design knitted into them. She looked up at Julia. “I don’t know how I’ll ever pay you back for all of these things.”
“I told you, I don’t want you to pay me,” Julia said a little crossly. “They’re gifts, Phoebe. It makes me happy to buy them for you. We need to celebrate the fact that you’re finally well enough to leave the hospital and go home. For a while there, we didn’t know if you were going to live or not.”
“But they must’ve cost a lot of money—”
“Not really. Besides, I have a lot of money. Now stand up so I can lace your corset.”
“Do I have to wear that thing? The last time I tried on a corset it felt like I’d fallen out of a tree and had the wind knocked out of me.”
Julia smiled. “I won’t need to pull it very tight. You’ve gotten so thin since you’ve been ill. You have a nice slender figure now. A lot of women will envy you.”
Phoebe let her lace it up. Then Julia slipped a new corded petticoat over her head. She had to stand on tiptoe to do it, since Phoebe was so tall.
“Folks in Bone Hollow will say I’m putting on airs when I show up in such fancy clothes. They’ll say, ‘You can’t make a silk purse out of a sow’s ear.”’ She wished Julia had bought her a plain old shirt and a pair of overalls instead.
“If they say that it’s because they’re jealous,” Julia said, lifting the skirt over Phoebe’s head. “I hope I measured you right for this skirt and bodice. If not, the seamstress said you could come back anytime and she would make alterations.”
“I’m sure they’ll be fine.” Phoebe had picked a plain dark blue calico print for the skirt and matching long-sleeved top. It had plain cuffs and a simple row of buttons down the front, but Julia had made the sleeves fashionably full and added three rows of fancy tucks around the hem of the skirt.
“I have one more surprise,” Julia said, unwrapping a tissue-paper package. “I bought you a white lace collar and a brooch to wear at the neck when you want to dress up a little. See?”
“But …I can’t thank you enough.” Phoebe bit her lip, determined not to cry. Julia pulled her into her arms and hugged her. Julia felt small and fragile to Phoebe as she hugged her back.
“Please don’t try to,” Julia said. “It doesn’t count as a good deed in heaven if I get something in return—and I need all the good credit I can get.” Julia’s voice suddenly sounded very sad, but before Phoebe could ask her what she meant, Julia said, “Now sit down on the bed and let me fix your hair.”
Phoebe’s hair had grown nearly two inches since she’d been wounded in September. It didn’t quite touch her shoulders yet, but Julia insisted that it was long enough for her to pin back and cover with a ribbon. She handed Phoebe a mirror so she could watch, but she was almost afraid to look.
“I wish we had a full-length mirror so you could see how lovely you look in your new dress,” Julia said as she brushed her hair.
Phoebe didn’t feel lovely, even with pretty clothes on and her hair fixed up. She looked at her reflection in the mirror and knew that Ted Wilson would still never want to steal a kiss from her or carry her picture in his pocket. Julia was the kind of girl that all the men wanted for their sweetheart.
“Can I ask you a question?” Julia said when she finished with Phoebe’s hair. “I’ve been curious for a long time. … Why did you do it? Why did you pretend that you were a man?”
Phoebe looked down at her lap. “Because I was no good at being a woman. No one’s ever going to marry me. I’m too big and tall and ugly.” She realized that it was still true. When she arrived home in a few days, her only choice would be to work for Mrs. Haggerty again, or someone just like her. “I figured since I looked like a man and could shoot a gun like a man, I may as well pretend I was one.”
“Phoebe, look in the mirror,” Julia said gently. “You’re tall, but you’re not built like a man. You’ve got a very nice figure.” She pointed to the shoulder line of her own dress. “Women have dropped shoulders like these sewn on their dresses on purpose so their shoulders will look as nice and wide as yours.”
“This ain’t a pretty face.”
Julia shook her head. “I know you’ll never believe me, but you have a very nice face. And there are other things for a woman to do besides get married. You can lead a full life without a husband. Take Dorothea Dix, for example—”
“Oh, sure,” Phoebe said angrily. “You can say that because you’re pretty and you’re married. You probably had lots of men lining up to ask you, right?”
Julia didn’t reply. She couldn’t seem to meet Phoebe’s gaze.
“You ain’t answering because I’m right, ain’t I? You never had to worry about finding a husband.”
“Phoebe, I came here to be a nurse because I wanted to do more with my life than just find a husband and get married. I wanted to be more than a pretty face. This is just the outside,” she said, touching her own cheek. “I wanted to be beautiful on the inside. That’s what really counts.”
“But you already are a good person on the inside.”
“No,” Julia said, shaking her head. “I’m not. You don’t know me.” She sat down on the bed beside Phoebe, toying with the hairbrush. “I once overheard a man say that it didn’t matter to him that I was pretty. He had looked at my heart and what he saw was ugly.
He was right—I saw it, too. And even though I’ve tried very hard to change, I’ve seen even uglier things in my heart since then.” She drew a deep breath and exhaled before continuing. “There was another man who was attracted to me because I was pretty, but he didn’t want me to be a nurse. He wanted me all to himself, to show me off so everyone would say what a pretty wife he had. But that was all that he loved about me. He didn’t know me or care about what I was like on the inside.”
Phoebe remembered how the soldiers used to show off their sweethearts’ pictures, bragging about how pretty they were. “Which of those two men is your husband?” she asked Julia.
“Neither. I’m going to tell you a secret, Phoebe. I think you’ll understand since you had a secret yourself for so long.” Julia hesitated, then drew another deep breath. “I’m not married. I lied. I said that I was because no one would let me be a nurse if I was single.”
Phoebe stared. “But …you told us all about your husband. You said he was in a Rebel prison.”
“There is a real Robert Hoffman, and he is in Libby Prison. But he’s my cousin, not my husband.”
Phoebe couldn’t reply. She thought she understood a little of Ted’s shock and surprise when he had learned her own secret. It was no fun discovering that someone you admired had lied to you. And Phoebe’s lie had been even worse than Julia’s.
“I feel so bad about lying,” Julia said. “I know it was wrong, and I pray that God will forgive me for it—and for all of my other sins. You’re my friend, Phoebe, and I …I wanted you to know the truth.”
“Do you think you’ll ever get married, though?” Phoebe finally asked.
“I hope to marry someday. But I want to find a man who loves the real me. Isn’t that what you want, too? Wouldn’t that be much better than marrying a man who only wants you because you’re pretty?”
“I been in love,” Phoebe said quietly. “And if I looked like you do, he would have loved me back. And you know what? Even if he only loved me on the outside, that would be a whole heap better than him not loving me at all.”
Julia stared down at her hands, looking sadder than Phoebe had ever seen her look. “I’m going to miss you, Phoebe Bigelow.”
“Yeah …me too,” she said hoarsely. She stood, suddenly wanting to get all the good-byes over with and leave before she started to cry. “I hope you find somebody, Julia. You deserve a good life in return for all you done for me. And don’t worry—I ain’t gonna try and thank you again. I want you to get your reward.” She was glad when Julia smiled faintly. “Listen, I’m gonna go say good-bye to the other nurses now and let them see how you tried to fix me up.”
“They’ll tell you the same thing I did—that you look lovely.”
Phoebe nodded. “Since I don’t like saying good-bye and all that, I’m going to leave and go on ahead of you to your boardinghouse, okay? We can say good-bye tomorrow morning when you take me to the train station.”
“All right. I’ll see you later, Phoebe.”
The matrons and nurses had been kind to Phoebe, but she hurried through all the farewells, embarrassed by the attention. When she finally managed to tear herself away and get to the front door, she spotted Dr. McGrath working in his office. Phoebe hesitated, aware that he always held himself aloof from everybody—and even more so since he’d returned to the hospital a month ago after his leave of absence. But he had saved her life, and she needed to thank him.
“Dr. McGrath, I guess you know I’m going home today,” she said shyly. “I just thought I’d say good-bye. And I wanted to thank you for helping me get better.”
He leaned back in his chair and smiled at her. “You look very nice as a woman, Miss Bigelow.”
“Oh. Thanks.” She felt herself blushing. “I have Julia to thank for this dress and all.”
He nodded absently, his smile gone. “I …uh …I trust you won’t be enlisting again any time soon?”
“No, sir. I reckon I’ll just go on home.”
“Listen, I’ll be glad to write up some discharge papers for you under your other name. You fought in some major battles. You deserve to have an honorable discharge listed on the records.”
“No thanks. I told a lie, and there ain’t nothing honorable about lying.”
“Well, you know where to find me if you change your mind.”
“Thanks for everything, Dr. McGrath. Good-bye.”
“Good-bye, Miss Bigelow. And good luck to you.”
As she walked out of Fairfield Hospital that beautiful spring morning, Phoebe wondered what she would do with “good luck.” As far as she was concerned, it was bad luck that she was back to being a woman, worse luck that she was going home to Bone Hollow, and the worst luck of all that there wasn’t a soul in the world who cared if she lived or died. If God loved her as much as Julia claimed, it seemed to Phoebe that now would be a good time to give her a sign.
James McGrath watched Phoebe leave Fairfield Hospital and wondered what would become of her. She looked so uncomfortable in her new dress that it wouldn’t surprise him in the least if she was back in trousers by nightfall. He sighed. Phoebe had thanked him for saving her life, but the truth was that she owed a bigger debt to Julia than to him. She was the one who had spotted the piece of shrapnel, who had cared for Phoebe day after day, who had convinced Phoebe to live when she was ready to give up and die.
He sighed again and rubbed his
eyes, wishing he could rub Julia from his mind. He returned to his
mail. His weekly letter had arrived that morning from New Haven,
and he carefully slit the envelope open with a knife. James felt
his chest tighten as he unfolded a childish drawing of water and
boats, the tall masts pointing to a bright orange sun. His daughter
had scrawled a note to him across the top.
Dear Daddy,
We saw some ships today. I drew a picture of them for you.
Love,
Kate
James left the two-page letter, written on cream vellum stationery, inside the envelope, unread. Lost in his thoughts, he was only vaguely aware of the front door groaning open, then banging closed again. A moment later he heard a man’s voice speaking from his office doorway. “Excuse me, Doctor…”
James looked up to see a tall, dark-haired man in an officer’s uniform watching him. The soldier was very thin, as if he might be recovering from an illness or an injury. Yet there was an intensity in his gaze, a predator’s alertness in his posture that James found unsettling. He quickly folded his daughter’s drawing and stuffed it back inside the envelope as if he were ashamed of it, though he couldn’t have said why.
“I’m sorry to disturb you,” the stranger said. “I’m Lieutenant Robert Hoffman. I’m looking for my—”
“Julia.”
James said the name aloud, finishing the lieutenant’s sentence. He heard the longing in his own voice and hoped her husband hadn’t.
“Yes, Julia Hoffman. I was told I might find her here.” The lieutenant stood rigidly at attention, as if awaiting military inspection. James rose and extended his hand.
“James McGrath. Julia told us you’ve been held prisoner in …Richmond, wasn’t it?”
“Yes.”
“Then I assume there must have been a prisoner exchange. How fortunate for you.”
“There wasn’t an exchange,” he said without emotion. “I escaped.”
“Ah. And Julia doesn’t know. She …well, I expect she’ll be overjoyed to see you.” James looked down at the top of his desk, pushing papers around, unable to face the man. He felt absurdly pleased that Robert Hoffman wasn’t handsome and was stunned to realize that he was jealous of this man—Julia’s husband. James wondered how Lieutenant Hoffman would react if he knew that James had kissed his wife. And that she had kissed him back.
“Is she here?” Hoffman asked. “I’ve come to take her home to Philadelphia with me.”
There was an aloofness in his manner that James found disturbing. Hoffman’s gaze was austere, unsmiling. A man who was about to hold his beautiful wife for the first time in a year and a half shouldn’t seem this cold and indifferent. James knew how prison could profoundly alter a man, and he felt a ripple of fear for Julia.
“She’s upstairs,” James said. “If you’d like to wait here, I’ll go fetch her.”
“Yes. Thank you.”
It required a great effort for James to move his feet, as if someone had nailed them to the floor. The stairs seemed steeper than he remembered, and he had to grip the banister as he climbed them. When he got to the wardroom door he stood for a long moment, watching Julia. She sat in a chair beside a patient’s bed, writing a letter he was dictating to his family. The soldier saw James first and stopped midsentence.
“What’s wrong, Doc?”
James wondered if the terrible pain he felt was visible on his face. Julia looked up, too, then quickly stood.
“What happened?” she asked.
James forced himself to smile as he walked toward her. “Nothing …that is …I have wonderful news, Mrs. Hoffman. Your husband is here.”
“What…?”
Julia swayed, and the paper and pen slid from her hands to the floor. The color leeched from her face as if she’d severed an artery. James gripped her arms to steady her.
“Hang on. I’ve got you.” He cleared the knot from his throat. “It’s true …your husband is waiting downstairs. And he’s fine—all in one piece, I’m happy to say.”
“Robert is …here?”
“Yes. He has come to take you home.” James could feel her body trembling beneath his hands, and he was afraid to let her go for fear she would topple over. “Do you think you can walk, or would you like me to help you?”
“You can let go of me,” she said. “I can walk.” Her face was very pale.
James released her, then watched as Julia slowly crossed the room like a woman in a dream. He felt relieved that he didn’t have to help her. He didn’t want to watch as she ran into her husband’s waiting arms.
When she reached the door, James suddenly realized that Julia was about to walk out of his life forever. He would never see her again. “Good-bye, Mrs. Hoffman,” he called after her. “I …I think I speak for everyone when I say …it has been a pleasure working with you.”
She paused, nodding slightly, then continued her dreamlike walk without answering. His words had sounded cold. They were not at all what he’d wanted to say, what he wished he could say. He heard the stairs creak one by one as she descended them. He realized he was holding his breath. He quickly crossed the room to shut the door behind her, hoping to muffle the sound of their joyous reunion. When he turned around again, he saw all of the soldiers watching him.
“Guess that’s a happy ending, right, Doc?” one of them asked quietly.
“Yes. Yes, it is. Mrs. Hoffman’s husband has been locked in a Rebel prison. … He just told me that he escaped. … Remarkable, really …escaping.” James bent to pick up the pen and paper that Julia had dropped and saw that his hands were trembling. He needed a drink.
“You don’t look so good, Doc,” the man in the bed beside him said.
James lowered himself onto the chair where Julia had been sitting. The seat still held her warmth. “Just thinking about my own wife,” he murmured.
“Yeah,” the soldier said. “I know what you mean. It’s been a long time since I held my wife in my arms.”
James waited until he was sure the Hoffmans were gone before returning to his office downstairs. He rummaged noisily though his desk, opening and slamming drawers and cupboards, desperate for a shot of whiskey. Then he remembered the medicinal brandy he carried in his bag.
The first swig burned all the way to his stomach. He couldn’t imagine that he’d ever enjoyed this taste. He sank down in his chair, grimacing as he swallowed a second shot and a third. He remembered quite clearly the last time he’d drunk this much, but he didn’t care.
His wife, Ellen, stared at him from across his desk. He picked up the photograph and studied her face. Then his eyes moved to little Kate’s face, beside her. Guilt struck him like a blow to the stomach. It was wrong for him to feel what he felt for Julia Hoffman, wrong to remember the power of her kiss that night in Fredericksburg when he couldn’t remember what Ellen’s kisses were like. He laid the photograph facedown on his desk.
“Thou shalt not covet thy neighbor’s wife.” Well, here was one more reason for God to condemn him—as if there weren’t enough reasons to send him to hell already.
Lieutenant Hoffman had returned to claim his wife. She would go home to Philadelphia with him. James wouldn’t need to see her every day and think about her every night or remember how glorious her hair had felt beneath his hands.
He took another drink and set the bottle on his desk. He began twisting his wedding ring, gently at first, but gradually tugging it harder and harder until he managed to yank it all the way off. His hand felt naked without it. But why wear a symbol that no longer had meaning—unending love …until death parted us?
Now that the ring was off, James didn’t know what to do with it. He finally dropped it into the envelope with the unread letter and his daughter’s drawing, then stuffed the envelope into the drawer with all the others and closed it. He was staring blankly at the brandy bottle when two of the ward matrons came to his office door.
“Is it true what some of the soldiers are saying?” Mrs. Fowle asked. “Has Mrs. Hoffman’s husband really come for her?”
“It’s true.”
Mrs. Fowle clapped her hands. “Oh, that’s wonderful!”
“I wonder why she didn’t introduce him to us?” Mrs. Nichols said.
“The man hasn’t slept with her in more than a year,” James said gruffly. “I’m sure he had plans for the evening that didn’t include introductions.”
The two women stared at him in shock. Mrs. Fowle’s cheeks turned bright pink. “I see that you’ve been drinking,” she said coldly. “Even so, your vulgarity in the presence of women is inexcusable.”
“Then go away and let me get drunk in peace.”
‘“As a dog returneth to his vomit,”’ Mrs. Nichols quoted, ‘“so a fool returneth to his folly.”’
When they were gone, James took a long drink of brandy, then wiped his mouth. He leaned his head back, staring up at the cracked ceiling, waiting for the once-familiar numbness to flow through his body, waiting for it to dull his thoughts and erase his pain.
Julia’s elegant traveling suit felt fussy and uncomfortable to her after wearing plain clothes for so long. She looked at her reflection in the boardinghouse mirror as Phoebe fastened the long row of buttons down the back. It hardly seemed possible that she’d helped Phoebe get dressed only this morning. Julia had thought she would be seeing Phoebe off for home; now the tables had turned—and so quickly that Julia was still reeling. With few belongings in the sparsely furnished room, it hadn’t taken her long to pack.
“Seems funny, us both going home, don’t it?” Phoebe asked.
“I’m as surprised as you are, believe me. But Robert is very eager to leave, and our family doesn’t want us to waste another moment.”
Phoebe finished closing the last button and sat down on the sagging bed. Julia went to the mirror to tidy her hair. “I’ll bet you’re excited,” Phoebe said.
“Yes …and no.” Julia’s reflection looked wavy and unfocused. She couldn’t tell if it was from the mirror or the tears in her eyes. Her feelings were all jumbled together, the happy ones and the sad ones, as if two orchestras were playing conflicting tunes. Her cousin Robert was alive and safe, and she was overjoyed to see him. But a chapter in her life was ending forever and she felt a terrible loss.
“I didn’t even have a chance to say good-bye to everyone at the hospital,” Julia said. “I had to leave right away so they wouldn’t find out …you know…”
“That he’s your cousin and not your husband.”
“Yes. And so Robert wouldn’t find out how I’ve been using his name all this time. I feel terrible for lying. Please, don’t tell anyone.”
“Don’t worry. I don’t reckon I’ll ever see any of them again. Besides, I know how it feels to have your lies found out. Folks look at you differently, and they feel like fools for believing you.”
“At least my lies didn’t hurt anyone, as far as I know. And at least I got to be a nurse for a while.” She brushed away the tears that rolled down her cheeks.
“What will you do once you’re back home?”
“I don’t know.” And that was the worst part, Julia realized. The future was like a huge empty room with nothing to fill it. After working so hard for so long, she didn’t know how she would suddenly face that void. The only glimmer of hope she saw was in her relationship with Nathaniel Greene.
Julia put her hairbrush in the steamer trunk and closed the lid. She had tossed most of her clothing in without folding it properly, and now she had trouble fastening the latches.
“Want me to help you sit on that?” Phoebe asked.
“Yes, I think you’d better.” When they finally got it closed and locked, Julia said, “I’m sorry I won’t be able to take you to the train station tomorrow.”
“That’s okay. You know, I been thinking …maybe I’ll stay an extra day or two and look around Washington City if that’s okay. I didn’t get to see much of it when I was in the army.”
“I’m sure that would be all right. I’ve paid the rent here for the entire month of April. I just thought …aren’t you in a hurry to get home?”
“Ain’t nobody waiting there for me like they’re waiting for you.”
“How long has it been since you were home, Phoebe?”
“More than a year and a half. How ’bout you?”
“Just over a year.”
“It’s funny, ain’t it?” Phoebe asked. “After all we’ve been through, we’re both right back where we started. Nothing’s changed. Even the war still goes on.”
Julia had left Fairfield Hospital just as she’d found it a year ago, with Mrs. Fowle and the other matrons at war with Dr. McGrath— and with James sitting alone in his office, barely speaking a civil word to the nurses. The matrons still believed that he was an alcoholic. Julia had been afraid to tell them the truth, afraid they’d ask too many questions about how she had gotten close enough to him to discover his secret. Her face would surely betray her if she talked about James. The women would surely see her feelings for him— and her guilt. Those feelings were still very strong, too. They’d rekindled all over again when James had held her today in the wardroom. And though she knew it was wrong, she was filled with grief because she would never see him again.
“I’m going to go now, Phoebe,” she said quietly.
“You need help with this trunk?”
“Robert and the carriage driver will be up in a moment to fetch it.” Her eyes filled with tears as she pulled Phoebe into her arms for one last hug. “Good-bye, then.”
“Good-bye.”
Julia tried to turn her thoughts toward home and her family as she hurried from the room. But a terrible sense of loss followed her down the stairs like a shadow and settled in the carriage seat beside her.