“Not here,” he said. “There. A call just came in. Windy as all heck. Last plane in had a hard time landing.”
“But what about the men?”
He shrugged. “They’ll keep them as comfortable as they can until we can get to them.”
“I don’t like that.”
“No one likes it, Kate,” he said, his voice soft, and then closed the door gently as he left.
With a sigh, I noted the number of bandages I’d just counted on the supply list I’d been going through, hung the clipboard back on the wall where I’d found it, picked up my bag and slung it over my shoulder. I couldn’t go back to the mansion in case the weather changed again and we were called to leave immediately. And I’d already eaten, so going to the mess hall was a waste of time.
I opened the door and stared at the hospital only a dozen or so feet away.
“Dammit,” I whispered, and started walking.
It was busy, nurses and doctors rushing about, soldiers awake and in pain, calling out for help. The clatter of trays rolling across the floor, instruments hopping on top, the smell of rubbing alcohol, and hush of voices trying to calm those in distress, and in the middle of it was William, watching me from the moment I stepped inside.
“You didn’t come yesterday,” he said, watching me carefully as I approached his bed.
I glanced at the men on cots on either side of him. One was asleep, one leg and arm each in traction, the other bleary-eyed and staring at the rafters above.
I grabbed a nearby chair and sat, setting my bag in my lap and fidgeting with the shoulder strap as I met his blue gaze.
“It was a busy day,” I said.
He nodded, still watching me, taking in my restless fingers.
“Are you okay?” he asked and then looked around the room as best he could, taking in the men around him. “I imagine your job can get a bit rough.”
“Not as rough as yours.”
“Neither is ideal,” he said, meeting my eyes once more, a small smile on his face. “You didn’t answer my question though.”
“I’m okay,” I said.
“You don’t seem to get your feathers ruffled much by all this.” He waved a hand at the room. “But something has you bothered.”
“What do you mean?”
He pointed at my fidgeting fingers and I stopped playing with the strap, slid the bag to the floor, and folded my hands in my lap.
“My flight got delayed for weather,” I said. “I hate the thought of the wounded having to wait.”
He stared at me quietly for a moment and then nodded.
“How did yesterday go?” he asked and I shrugged.
“Fine.”
“There’s that word again.”
“Sorry. I just don’t usually talk about my day. It’s...” My eyes clouded as images crowded my mind. “It’s hard to talk about. I prefer to leave it in the air.”
“I get that. Must be tough though. Do you at least talk about it with your comrades?”
I shook my head.
“One of the many unspoken rules of war, right?” he said.
