Page 41 of The Secrets We Left Behind
“It’s not nothing,” Elise interrupted. “I dug out a bullet from his shoulder, and I know I got all of it, but—”
“She’s not a nurse,” Adelaide said, softly. “And we both think that you must be a pretty good one.”
Cate forgot all about her exhausted limbs and fatigue, only interested in helping Harry now.
“You can look at me later,” he muttered. “Just eat your food and rest awhile. I don’t want anyone to make a fuss.”
“This is what I’m trained for, to look after soldiers and tend to their wounds,” Cate assured him, standing before him now, arms folded across her chest, her strength coming back to her. “Please, let me look.” Cate would have happily carried on sipping her drink, and her eyelids were so heavy they were ready to fall shut of their own accord, but she would never turn her back on her duty.
Harry eventually sighed and set his coffee down, and she didn’t miss the small scowl as he raised his arm. He unbuttoned his shirt and dropped one shoulder out, and she took in the bulky bandaging, realizing why Elise had been so keen for her to help him. It was up to Cate now to make sure this man had a fighting chance, too.
“How badly does it hurt?” Cate asked.
“Bad enough that I couldn’t hold a rifle steady,” he said.
Cate gently unfixed then unwound the bandage, careful as she examined the wound. It needed stitches, that much was clear, but if Elise had been the one to clean it, she’d done a great job.
“Well, it’s not red, which is to be expected at this early stage if it’s only just happened, but I’ll need to stitch it properly and then we’ll make a sling after bandaging it. It’ll help it to heal if we keep it still.”
Harry hadn’t said anything, and she studied his face, not sure if she’d done or said something wrong for his expression to change so deeply.
“Harry? Is that all right with you?” she asked.
When he didn’t answer, she glanced up and caught Elise’s eye. She supposed they didn’t know him well enough to know what was going on in his head, but something about what she’d said had affected him.
“Harry?” she asked, searching his eyes. “I know you’ve been through a lot, honestly I know more than most how a man feels and acts when he’s been injured in the field. I’ve been tending soldiers for months now, and every single one struggles at some point. Plenty of men have been where you are.”
“I should have died out there with all the others,” he suddenly ground out. “It’s not fair that I’m here and they’re not, that I was the one to survive. I don’t deserve any medical attention.”
She was grateful when Elise came over and sat beside him, quietly taking his other hand and holding it as Cate continued to inspect his wound. She didn’t know what he was talking about, but in a way she didn’t need to; many of the men she’d treated since being in France suffered from a kind of survivor’s guilt. “They would have wanted you to survive, trust me,” she said. “No soldier wishes any of his own dead, and that means that you need to stay alive for them, to fight for them. Don’t let their loss of life be for nothing, Harry. What’s it all been for if you let that happen?”
Harry finally looked up at her then, and she saw that somehow she’d managed to get through to him, even if there was still a wariness to his gaze. But he was listening to her, and that was what mattered.
“There’s something that feels shameful about living when others don’t, once the reality of surviving sets in,” he said, his voice so low she had to listen carefully to catch each word, not sure whether he was talking to her, Elise, or both of them. “It starts with a desperate need to survive, I suppose it’s human nature to fight to live, but no one tells you what it feels like afterwards.”
She breathed deep, his words resonating with her, washing over her as if she’d thought them herself. Hadn’t she done the exact same thing? She’d fled with barely a second thought to save her own life, leaving the others behind in a split-second decision.
“I know,” she whispered as tears filled her eyes. “Trust me, I saw everyone else from my hospital taken, so I know how that feels, to be the only one.”
She nodded and quickly wiped away her tears, snuffling them back as she fought against the first big wave of emotion she’d felt since leaving. She’d felt scared and worried and outright terrified, but until now, she’d kept the deep, choking emotion inside her at bay.
“Patch me up then,” Harry said, clearing his throat, “but drink your coffee first. You need it.”
Cate smiled at him, relieved to hear him accepting her help. She was starting to realize that she was much better when she had busy hands and no time to wallow in what was already done. “Deal. And while I patch you up, we can talk about how unlikely it is that we both sought refuge in the same house.”
Elise looked relieved when she glanced at her, and Cate checked Jack before going back to her coffee and finishing her bread, licking the last of the sticky jam from her fingers. And it was then, like a ton of bricks hitting her, she realized what a useful commodity she was.
Her fate wasn’t sealed; wherever she ended up, whether it was inside a friendly home like this or in the belly of a German prisoner camp, she was useful. She could stitch men up and tend to wounds; she could help anyone with an injury or medical need. She didn’t want to think beyond the warm house she was already stationed in, but for the first time since she’d fled the hospital, she felt oddly calm.
So long as nurses were needed, she could stay alive. Maybe she’d be stuck in France for months, maybe years, but if she kept tending to the sick and injured, she could stay alive long enough to go home one day. Or at least that was what she was going to keep telling herself. But it did help with the tremble of fear she’d been feeling at being discovered.
“Do you really need to stitch it?” Harry asked after she’d washed her hands in the kitchen and boiled up more thread along with the needle. “Can’t it just heal on its own?”
“I really do need to stitch it,” she replied. “The last thing I want is to see an infection there in a week’s time because I was lazy and left it open.”
“Anything I can do?” Adelaide asked.
“Bring a stick or something else hard for him to bite down on,” Cate said, whispering “Sorry” to Harry as his eyes widened in alarm. She patted his good shoulder as she peered at the open wound winking back at her. “Unfortunately, this is going to hurt.”
