The Good Left Undone(48)

“I have an idea what he’ll find.” Domenica wrapped the wound in gauze.

“A laceration so deep it requires surgery?”

“No. A difficult patient.”

“Cabrelli. An Italian in Marseille, France. Why? Don’t tell me. It’s a sad story, isn’t it? No family. No friends. No home. The nuns took you in because you had no place to go. They taught you nursing in exchange for free labor, but you knew that the education they provided was worth so much more, so you decided to work off your debt to the good Sisters in this rundown hospital.”

“I’m from a fine family. The nuns didn’t take me in. I earned my nursing credits in Roma before I came here. This hospital isn’t rundown, it’s busy. And nobody pays, so the nuns have no money to fix the place. Keep that in mind when you’re on your way out. Throw something in the poor box in the lobby.”

Domenica excused herself. McVicars lay down on the examining table to wait for the doctor and promptly fell asleep.



* * *





Dr. Chalfant moved through the ward. He was around forty, with a slight build and a shock of red hair. From a distance, wearing his white lab coat, he looked like a lit match. He observed Nurse Cabrelli ease a patient into an ice bath.

“Docteur, I’ll take you to the examination rooms in a moment.”

“Cabrelli, I need to talk to you,” Sister Marie Bernard said.

“I’ve got him,” Josephine said, taking over for Domenica.

Domenica followed the nun outside into the corridor.

“Sister, I ordered the baths because I didn’t know how else to treat the severity of the burns. I knew from my training that an ice bath is the first step in alleviating their pain. Forgive me if I overstepped my—”

“You did an excellent job, Cabrelli. I don’t know how you rallied the nurses, but they took orders from you better than they’ve ever taken them from me.”

Domenica wiped her face on the edge of her apron. She leaned against the wall and closed her eyes.

McVicars spotted Domenica from the end of the corridor. He joined her, leaning against the wall beside her. “I’ve visited most of my men. Well done. You’re a better captain than me.”

“I’m just a nurse.”

“Let’s be friends, Cabrelli. I was teasing you before.”

“Were you? Did your men fill out the forms?”

“Everyone but Donnelly. He can’t read or write.”

“Where did you get that robe?”

“Sister Aloysius or something or the other.” McVicars tied the sash around his waist. “Like it?”

“The doctor is making the rounds to the examination rooms,” Domenica said as she walked down the corridor. “You need to be on your table waiting for him.”

“I’d like to follow you and learn my way around the hospital, if you would oblige me. I will need to check on my men.”

“It’s simple. There are two floors and thirty rooms.” Domenica pointed in the direction of the rooms as she moved down the hallway. “We’re not a fancy hospital, but we’re a good one.” Domenica commandeered an overflowing laundry bin down the corridor. McVicars followed her.

“Any sailors in your family?” McVicars wanted to know.

“Not one. We do love the sea. We live on the water. Does that count?”

“Depends. What sea are we talking about?”

“Il Tirreno Mare.”

“The Tyrrhenian Sea! I know it well. I have also sailed the Ligurian Sea and the Mediterranean. The Gulf of Genoa to the north is as blue as a broken heart. Fond memories of that port.”

“I’m sure. Do you know Viareggio?”

“No, I don’t. We dropped anchor at Gioia Tauro. Do you know it?”

“On the Tyrrhenian coast.” Domenica leaned down to retrieve a bundle of dirty sheets on the floor and threw them into the bin.

“You aren’t just a French girl faking that Italian accent, are you?”

“The English think every accent is fake but their own.”

“I’m not English! I am a Scot. Couldn’t you tell?”

“How do you tell the difference?”

“In every conceivable way! Have you been to Scotland?”

“I have not. I know my village and I know Marseille. I’ve been in exactly two countries in my lifetime. France is the second one.” Domenica pushed the bin into the laundry room. McVicars followed her inside. The room was sweltering hot. The machines made a loud racket. A nun in a kerchief and apron pushed a bedsheet through the wringer washer. Another nun in the same work habit operated the industrial iron that chuffed clouds of steam when she pressed the fabric. They looked up at McVicars, and then at each other.

“He’s a patient,” Domenica explained as she emptied the bin and sorted the hospital pajamas from the towels for the laundress.

McVicars shouted over the din, “Do you like the rain and cold?”

Domenica shook her head no.

“You’ll get past it. There is much to recommend it. The green pastures. The lakes. Me.”

“I just met you, Captain. But I won’t hold that against your people. You’re blunt.”

McVicars laughed. “I am, aren’t I?”