Page 52 of The Moonlight Healers

She let her hand trail over the wooden pew, barely hearing as the priest gave the blessing. All she could think of was Thomas, of the gentleness of his eyes, the firm, certain way he held her hand. It wasn’t until the other congregants rose to their feet with a flurry of movement that Helene even realized the mass was over.

She genuflected next to the pew, because she knew the sisters would be watching, and then hurried down the center aisle. The space above her was so cavernous it almost felt like being outside, with wide stone arches and massive columns that stretched seemingly infinitely toward the sky. She passed the wall of flickering candles and exited through the gargantuan wooden door that led out onto the courtyard.

Before her eyes could adjust to the sharp afternoon sun, Elisabeth appeared on the steps in front of her, her face anxious.

Helene stopped abruptly. Elisabeth had no reason to be there. She had attended mass the previous day and was not one to ever voluntarily step foot in the church on her own. “What’s wrong?”

Elisabeth climbed the rest of the steps to Helene. “I was trying to sleep, but some of the girls who worked this morning came into the dormitory.” She went silent as several civilians filed past them out of the church. She waited until they were gone before she continued. “It’s Thomas, Helene.”

Helene’s stomach jolted. She had seen Thomas just that morning, and he had been in good spirits.

“He came down with a fever,” Elisabeth said, her voice low as more people exited. “Right after shift change. The wound was infected. Dr. Weber took him to the operating theater, to clean it out.” Elisabeth hesitated. “I thought you should know. I know you’ve been spending some time with him. I saw you talking the last two nights.”

Helene gripped Elisabeth’s wrist. “Elisabeth, tell me what happened.”

“They were saying he must have already been septic. And…and he started clotting. He threw a clot in his lungs. There was nothing anyone could do.”

Helene’s body went cold, despite the hot sun.

“His heart stopped, Helene. He didn’t make it.”

The green grass of the courtyard and blue sky suddenly felt all wrong, nightmarish. The light around her seemed to change, draining all of the color from the day. “Where is he?” she asked calmly.

“Where—”

“Where is he?” Helene repeated, her voice so loud Elisabeth flinched. “Is he still warm?”

“I think you’re in shock.”

Helene stumbled down one step. “Is he still in the operating theater?”

“I’m not sure. I don’t… I don’t know.”

Helene’s legs were leaden, but she pushed herself forward.

“Where are you going?” Elisabeth asked carefully.

Helene ignored her and shuffled down the stairs to the courtyard. She heard Elisabeth’s footsteps hurrying to keep up with her on the gravel pathway.

“I’m so sorry, Helene. Please, why don’t we go somewhere quiet, somewhere we can talk.”

“Don’t follow me,” Helene snapped. She knew she was being unkind, but she also couldn’t have Elisabeth interfere. She ignored everyone and everything in her path as she walked quickly across the courtyard, back past the guard she had seen on her way to church, and into the hospital wing. She concentrated only on the sound of her breathing, on the thud of her heartbeat in her ears as she strode down the first-floor hallway to the operating wing.

The hallway outside the operating theater was empty. It was past the scheduled cases of the day, and no one was inside except for a lone French custodian mopping at the other end. He looked up as Helene entered. He had white hair and a stooped back, likely drawn out of retirement when all the younger men went off to war. He nodded at Helene, then went back to his work.

She opened each door along the hallway, but one after another was vacant. Finally, she reached the last operating theater. Thomas had to be in here.

The walls were covered in square tiles, and there were no windows, only massive circular lights that hung from the ceiling. There was a large sink near the door, and a huge glass-front supply cabinet on the opposite wall.

And in the center of it all, a long table, the form of a body draped beneath a thin white sheet.

Helene felt panic rip through her body. Heat shot down her arms as she pulled the sheet back.

He appeared almost the same as he had earlier that morning in the ward, as though he were only sleeping. His eyes were closed, his lips slightly parted. His skin was pale, but not yet bloodless.

As she reached toward his chest, she could almost sense the last, lingering reverberations of life in his heart.

“You’re still there,” Helene whispered.

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