Edge of Time (Langston Brothers Series) Page 7

“The best you can do for anyone is try, and then keep moving forward. Think of all the people you have helped and think of all the people who still need you.”

  For a long time he just sat, not moving, contemplating her words.

  “I’m sorry,” he said quietly, lifting his head at last. “I shouldn’t have burdened you with this. I should have talked to Major Bernstein or James Rowe.”

  With a firm shake of her head Marissa gave him a small smile, “No, you were right to come to me. After all I offered didn’t I?”

  Craig offered a weak smile. “I’ll have you know this is not a side of me that comes forth very often. If I can ever repay the favor I would be more than happy to lend a shoulder.”

  * * *

  Work continued to prove an exhausting diversion from her time travel predicament, especially as Marissa could find no readily available route home. Genie Harris and Carolyn Reed were becoming fast and true friends and Marissa was finding herself powerfully drawn to Craig Langston. It was more than just a physical attraction, the two of them seemed to know and understand each other more than their brief acquaintance could or should account for. Even Brian had not affected her so and she had loved him.

  As she hauled a large bag of laundry through the back door of the hospital she could have kicked herself for getting her thoughts so wrapped up in the man. There were at least one-hundred good reasons not to get involved with Craig, the most important of which that she was not at all over Brian’s betrayal, and she was a woman out of time. But even as she silently drilled herself with logic, her thoughts drifted to the exhilarating feel of Craig’s firm lips on her own. Dumping the laundry into boiling water she beat the linens as though beating thoughts of the intriguing young doctor from her mind.

  Later that afternoon, Marissa finished putting away freshly rolled bandages on the second story and headed for the stairs, nearly done with work for the day.

  “Marissa certainly has whipped this place into shape.” Craig’s remark drifted up the staircase, his rich tenor shooting a warm thrill through her.

  “You doctors and the orderlies listen to her so well I’m beginning to wonder who is in charge here, her or me!”

  Marissa paused on the opposite side of the bannister, suppressing a pleased grin as the men continued singing her praises. She could just see them standing beneath her in the hall.

  With a laugh Craig gestured to one of the orderlies. “I know what you mean. I don’t remember seeing any of them work so hard or be so organized before she got here.”

  As if on cue a young private approached. “Captain Langston, you have a visitor, a Miss Jamison.”

  Marissa Froze.

  “Please ask Miss Jamison to wait in the front room,” Craig ordered politely. “Sir,” his deep voice continued to Major Bernstein, “as far as Corporal Tanner is concerned, we’ll have to see if he makes it through the night. If he does then I’ll take him back to surgery first thing in the morning.”

  Peering covertly around the corner, she watched Craig rinse his hands and face in a basin of water before making his way to the front room. From her vantage point at the top of the stairs it was impossible to see beyond the hallway so Marissa crept down the steps to peek through the gap between the door and the wall. She physically grimaced when the pretty raven-haired woman with perfect dimples came into view. Kirsten—or rather, the Marne of the 19th century. Jealousy surged through Marissa as Kirsten batted impossibly long lashes up at Craig. Given her wont to visit him so frequently at work, Marissa could only surmise the two of them were close.

  “Miss Jamison, how can I help you today?” Craig drawled solicitously, portraying the perfect southern gentleman.

  “My family and I were hoping you would honor us with your presence at dinner tomorrow evening, Dr. Langston,” Kirsten’s voice fairly dripped with honey as she turned clear, unusually hued eyes up to him. “Oh, Captain, you must promise you’ll come.”

  Fists clenched, Marissa walked curtly away from the little interlude. Southern gentleman… Pah! Some gentleman that would kiss her and take her on enticing walks—not to mention cry on her shoulder—only to have another woman waiting in the wings. She really shouldn’t be angry. She had promised not to get involved with anyone until she sorted out her own life. But… just the same… she couldn’t quite quash the remaining twinge of envy.

  “Enough.” She shoved away from the banister, thrusting the handsome Craig Langston from her mind as she did so, and set out to find Genie, anxious to be on her way home.

  Home. The thought of Carolyn’s house as home came to her suddenly. A mixture of panic and yearning threatened to choke her. Finding the emotions more than she had the capacity to deal with at present, she brushed that thought aside as well.

  * * *

  Craig paced the lower level of the hospital, anxious to see Marissa and ask how she liked working at the hospital. It had been a busy week, and he’d seen her only in passing. It didn’t take long to locate Genie Harris gathering up her books, pens, and paper, and he decided to wait for Marissa with her. “Good evening, Mrs. Harris. Have you had a good day?”

  “As well as can be expected, Captain, thank you.”

  Clearing his throat Craig shifted nervously and could have kicked himself for feeling so damnably green. “Would it be all right if I came to call on Marissa sometime?”

  Genie winked. “I do believe you already have, sir.” She smiled broadly. “Don’t get flustered, Captain, I’m only teasing. Feel free to stop in anytime.”

  Craig grinned sheepishly in return, hoping Marissa would be as enthusiastic as her aunt. What had she thought of him and his display of weakness following Billy Cole’s death? He gestured to the newly restored order of the wards. “She’s certainly made a difference around here.”

  “She is very efficient. I don’t think she stops for more than two minutes at a time.” Mrs. Harris raised a hand in friendly greeting as Marissa approached. “Why, here she is now.”

  Craig smiled at the sight of a slightly disheveled Marissa. With her blonde hair spilling haphazardly from her disorderly bun, and a rosy flush in her milky cheeks, she was beautiful. Her dark eyes smoldered and a fire he hadn’t experienced for months lit within his being. “How was your day?”

  “Fine,” she replied, dark eyes glancing dismissively off his face as she turned to Genie. “I’m exhausted, Genie. Are you ready to go home?”

  Frustrated by her coolness he tried once more to catch her gaze. “I could—”

  “Craig!” The trio turned to Dr. Rowe’s urgent call. “There was an explosion at one of the munitions plants. There are a couple of men downstairs who need to be operated on now and a few others that will have to wait.”

  Immediately Craig strode across the room to the other physician.

  “I can patch up the men who aren’t seriously wounded,” Marissa volunteered, close on their heels.

  Craig and James looked at her, but it was Craig who said, “Very well, do what you think you can. We’ll be out to help you as soon as we’re able.”

  * * *

  Marissa spent the next two hour suturing, cleansing, and bandaging wounds. It felt good to do something she knew. For the first time working in this hospital she felt her internal switch flick to ER mode and she settled into a familiar groove.

  Had she really compared the ER to a war zone? Little had she known…

  The injured munitions workers may have been surprised to have a woman tending them, but only one of them gave her trouble. “I ain’t goin’ ta have no woman layin’ a hand on me,” the middle aged dullard of a man sneered at her. “Women should know their place and it sure ain’t doctoring!” The black, beady eyes scorned her and she drew a ragged breath, recognizing the man who’d been following her the other day, but... big and slow, with obvious mental handicap he hardly seemed the type to be dangerous.

  “
Come on, Christenson, she did a good job on us, and none of the other docs look as good as she does,” a younger man with a small second degree burn to his back reasoned, trying to calm the angry man.

  Another patient she’d treated chimed in, “Yeah, Paul, give her a chance. She’s got nice, gentle hands,” but the middle-aged Paul Christenson turned a prejudiced gaze on Marissa. Blood trickled from an ugly flap of torn flesh on his arm and yellow fat protruded from the jagged gash.

  “Sit down,” Marissa commanded, picking up a curved suture needle and thread. She’d dealt with plenty of men like this throughout her nursing career—performing a painful procedure could be a bit satisfying, if the guy insisted on being a jerk.

  Surprised by the commanding, no-nonsense tone of her voice, the dullard complied. “Ouch, woman!” he hollered and began to jerk his arm away as she picked up a cloth to cleanse the wound with alcohol. She ignored him and proceeded to suture the gash. “You’re hurtin’ me!” He tried to pull his arm away again.

  “Hold still or you’re going to have an even worse wound on your arm.” She continued her work without as much as an upward glance. “Not that I care. I’ll stitch you up as you are, and then again after you’ve ripped all the sutures out.” Grumbling, the man complied but remained still for the remainder of her treatment.

  “I’m impressed,” Craig’s voice startled her from her work. “I was just about to step in and rescue you, but obviously you’re not a damsel need of rescuing.” He stepped up behind her and gestured to the eight sutures she’d placed in the man’s forearm. “Nice work.”

  “Thanks.” She flashed a quick smile, ignoring the nerves Craig ignited, before turning back to her patient. “It is very important that you don’t pick at your stitches even if they begin to itch. If your arm gets red, the sutures come out, or if you have any other problems, come back and we’ll take a look at your arm. All right? If you come back in about ten days someone here will take the stitches out.”

  Paul’s expression suggested he was about to make a nasty retort, but Craig’s glare forestalled it. Without a parting word Paul left.

  Marissa glanced up at Craig.

  Rocking back on his heels, he pegged her with a curious look. “You said your father taught you all of that?”

  “I learned to suture on his hunting dog,” she answered, turning to pick up the supplies.

  “I see.” The heat of his gaze burned even though she was not facing him. “You are a puzzle,” he murmured.

  Marissa gulped, flashing him a nervous glance. She hoped he wouldn’t answer too many prying questions she didn’t have a suitable answer for. “Not hardly.”

  “You know, I’m awed by how you handled Paul Christenson. He can really be a bast-uh-um—” He cleared his throat. “He’s not a very nice man.”

  “So I’ve noticed,” Marissa agreed, replacing her supplies in their proper drawers.

  For a long while Craig just stared at her with a questioning gaze, finally he said, “Are you ready to get out of here?”

  “Yes. I feel as though my arms are going to fall off, they’re so sore from all the scrubbing I’ve done this week.” Gesturing to the window she asked, “When did it get dark out? I didn’t even notice.”

  “About forty-five minutes ago,” Craig replied. “Which gives me an idea, my dear, how do you feel about star gazing?”

  My dear?

  How many times had she heard those two little words spoken? She’d never thought of herself as a ‘my dear’ as any man’s dear for that matter, but coming from his lips…

  Without waiting for an answer he grabbed her hand and pulled her through the front door of the hospital. As she stepped into the starry night, the toe of her shoe caught the bottom step and she cried out, twisting precariously off balance. Instantly Craig turned, wrapping strong arms about her waist and half lifted her against him. Marissa swallowed hard as she landed mere inches from his smiling visage. Her arms settled about his neck and the length of her body crushed against his deliciously hardened frame.

  “Well, aren’t you accident prone?” Craig teased, tilting his head slightly.

  “I’ve always been a little clumsy,” she murmured a little too breathlessly.

  “Not that I’m complaining. I’ll take whatever excuse I can get to hold you this way.” He half turned, lifting her off the last step and setting her feet gently to the ground without releasing her.

  Heart thundering in her chest so hard he must feel it resonating through her body and into his, she said, “I wonder how your Miss Jamison would feel about your holding me this way.”

  “Miss Jamison?” Dropping his arms, he gazed down at her in surprise. “Why would I care about Miss Jamison’s feelings?”

  Sliding her arms away from his broad shoulders, she took a small step back, confused. “Aren’t you having dinner with her tomorrow night? I heard her ask you.”

  A lopsided grin traversed his face. “I say, Miss McClafferty, were you spying on me? Or eavesdropping? Or, better yet…” He leaned provocatively forward. “Are you jealous?”

  “None of the above!” she said a bit too forcefully. Her cheeks must be on fire and she felt like an awkward teenager failing miserably at an attempt to flirt with the star quarterback. “However, it was impossible for me not to hear her.”

  “And did you also hear me decline?”

  Marissa stopped short. “Decline? Er… no.”

  Craig just smiled, regarding her with a steady gaze, eyes warm and twinkling. “Come here.” He slipped an arm about her shoulders and led her up a slight rise to a grassy field adjacent the hospital yard. “Isn’t it beautiful?” He stepped forward, allowing his arm to drop from around her and sweeping the other toward the city spread before them. A silvery sheen bathed Charleston, masking all evidence of the inner suffering of her citizens. And standing in the glow of the moonlight Craig looked rather like the gatekeeper, a warrior protecting the city from evil. It was almost surreal. The man looked rugged, athletic, and more like Apollo than any man had a right to. The heavy gray jacket was gone and in its place a white shirt gaped at the neck, revealing just a hint of the expansive muscular chest beneath. Surely he’d been carved from marble to look so perfect.

  A warm blush crept into her cheeks and Marissa was glad for the blanket of night. It wouldn’t do for him to realize the extent of his effect on her. Craig reclined casually in the lush grass, reaching for her hand, pulling her down with him. She positioned herself to angle slightly away from him.

  “What a day.” He released a haggard breath, leaning up on one elbow. “After an emergency like the munitions plant I can never fall asleep right away. I have to let my mind settle for a while no matter how tired I am. Star gazing always seems to help me relax.”

  Marissa shifted, facing him directly. “I know exactly what you mean. My mind whirls after a busy day. I hate feeling helpless to change things.” Remembering their conversation about Billy Cole a few days before, she turned compassionate eyes to him.

  Craig nodded. Their eyes locked and true understanding sparkled in the depths. Marissa’s heart did a little flip. He reached out, grazing a thumb along her cheek. “We are kindred spirits you and I,” he murmured, and Marissa marveled at the realization he was absolutely right. A harmony existed between them. A simple bond that could not be put to words, but existed just the same. They did not need words or explanations. They just knew what the other needed.

  After a long moment Craig turned away from her and pointed upward. “There is the north star.”

  Marissa’s gaze followed his outstretched hand. “Yes, Polaris, the only fixed point in the sky. I find stars immensely comforting as they seem never to change.”

  “Ah,” he grinned at her, “so you know about medicine and astronomy. What next, botany?”

  She laughed. “I wouldn’t say I know Astronomy. I am able to recognize the north s
tar and that is all.”

  “I suspect you know more than that.” He leaned toward her. “Show me your favorite constellation.”

  For Marissa, this was far better than any dinner and a movie date she’d been on. She licked her lips, thinking of how she’d like for the “date” to end. “Orion the Hunter,” she said, and pointed to the grouping of stars. “When I was little I had terrible nightmares and one night my grandfather told me that I didn’t need to be scared because Orion was there to protect us and chase bad dreams away.”

  “A hunter and a protector,” he murmured in a soft voice. “Do you need him still?” Gentle fingers reached out to pull a stray lock of hair from her face. She shivered from the contact of skin on skin. He must have noticed because, still holding the strand of her hair between his fingers, he gazed into her face long and hard. “Marissa, what’s wrong?”

  She shrugged miserably. “Oh, it’s just been a long day I suppose.”

  “That’s not what I mean, and I think you know it. Something else is bothering you. Please tell me. Let me help you the way you helped me.” The hair slipped through his fingers, fluttering on the breeze, ticking her face. “I meant it when I promised to return the favor. I never make a promise I don’t intend to keep.”

  Marissa shuddered again as the gentle warmth of his voice washed over her and seeped into the frayed edges of her soul. He looked so compassionate and sincere in his desire to help. “I just feel so out of place here,” she blurted. “I’ve lost everyone I ever cared for and everything I’ve ever worked for.”

  Craig nodded. “I understand, but don’t forget, you have your aunt Genie.”

  “Uh-huh.” Marissa blinked furiously against the sting of tears. “But I didn’t even know about her until recently. She and my mother were estranged,” she explained, using the same story Genie had given Carolyn. “She’s been nothing but kind and welcoming, but...”

  “You have a home, family with her and Carolyn,” he reminded her.

  “You don’t understand, Craig, I really have lost everything. Everything! And all I want is to go back to what I had.” Despite her best efforts the tears burst forth and fierce sobs racked her body. “The worst part is… I-I don’t even know if I was happy before.”