When You Dream

When You Dream



    There is no lonelier feeling than that of being a stranger in a place where everyone knows everybody else. I realized that as I walked home after my first day of work in this small Virginia town. I was behaving as I had on the streets of Chicago - not making eye contact with the people I passed, keeping a hand clamped on the shoulder strap of my purse, walking faster than anyone else I saw.  I knew I looked as foreign as I felt.

    Slow down, Ruth. That's what you came here for. By the time that thought occurred to me, I'd reached the shabby-genteel Victorian home where I was boarding. As I climbed the front steps I pushed away the thought of the still-packed boxes in my room. I'd just finished my first shift at the local hospital, it was a warm June day and I needed a shower and food first of all.

    Mrs. Draper, my landlady, sat in state on the porch. A widow in her eighties with insulin-dependent diabetes, she'd let me have the room for a ridiculously low price. "I'll be happy to have a nurse living upstairs. To tell you the truth, my memory's not what it was, and I'm afraid one of these days I'll forget an injection." The place was ideal while I figured out whether or not this move was going to be permanent.

    "Evening, Miss Bascomb, how did the first day go?" She had a real Southern lady's voice, and I was sure that smile had broken more than one heart in her youth.

    "Ruth, remember? I survived. It was quiet compared to what I'm used to."

    She reached for her cane and stood up, all five feet of her. "I suppose it was. Well, it's time to think about supper. Do you like three-bean salad?"

    "I do. I'll make some sandwiches to go with it, just give me time to wash up."

      After supper out on the porch, smiling and waving to passing neighbors I had yet to meet, I decided to tackle my room. I worked until past dark putting my things away, then took stock of what I'd done. The room, with its slanted ceilings and smell of old paint, still felt unfamiliar. When I went to bed the heat kept me awake for a while, but I finally fell into a restless sleep.

    I found myself in hell, with sights and sounds to match. I stood in a ward lined with narrow beds on either side, with harsh sunlight pouring in the windows. The smell of the place made me gag. As for the patients, I'd seen as bad before, trauma cases from accidents, shootings and stabbings, but never so many. I stood frozen, my stomach churning as I took it all in. Where on earth...

    There were two other nurses, dressed in long skirts and voluminous aprons. Looking down, I saw that I was dressed the same way. Neither of the other women seemed to notice my presence as they went about their work. One of them was changing the bandage on the stump of what had been an arm. The man was unconscious, but she looked very new to the job. When she finished, she grabbed a towel and ran into a closet at the other end of the room. I didn't blame her.

    After several minutes of paralysis my training began to click in. I caught my breath and turned to the man in the bed next to where I stood. He looked to be in his late twenties, older than many of the others. Dark red hair, wet with sweat, framed his strong-boned face. I'd have called him interesting rather than handsome. His eyes were closed, with thick lashes the same color as his hair brushing his cheeks. I noticed a small round birthmark low on the left side of his neck. He was tall and fairly big-boned, but desperately thin. Through the sheet I could see that his left leg was heavily bandaged above the knee.

    I pulled up a nearby stool and sat next to his bed. When I touched his hand, dark gray eyes opened and looked into mine. I gave him a moment to focus on me before I spoke.

    "What's your name?"

    "Ethan."

    "Ethan what?"

    "Ethan Rainford. What's yours?" He didn't speak much above a whisper, but his voice made me think of warm, rainy summer nights and smooth whiskey.

    "Ruth Bascomb." I took his hand in mine and brushed his rust- colored hair back from his face. He was burning up.

    "Ethan, I'll be right back." I got up to look for water, hopefully some ice as well, then I woke, sticky with the heat, my stomach doing flips. Car lights were shining into my room, the pattern moving across the wall.

    What the hell was that? The man had needed a massive dose of broad-spectrum antibiotics stat, and I'd gone looking for ice. The place had looked like a military hospital of some kind...a hospital from another time.

    A Civil War hospital? When I'd arrived in town three days ago, I'd killed an hour in the local museum. I'd always had an interest in history. There had been fighting very near here during the Civil War. Maybe that hour in the museum accounted for the unpleasant, painfully vivid dream. Shivering, I rolled over and willed myself to go back to sleep and forget that man's face.

    I didn't wake again until my alarm rang. Groggy, I leaned out my open window for a breath of cool air. It was just dawn, and the sky in the west was the same color as Ethan's eyes. I shook off the thought and went down to fix breakfast.

    Mrs. Draper was already at the table, sipping tea. She had insisted when I moved in that I use her first name too.

    "Good morning, Charlene."

    "Morning, Ruth." She gave me a sharp look. Whatever she said about her memory, I wouldn't have liked to try to fool her. "You look as if you had a poor night. Is something the matter with your room?"

    "Strange bed, that's all." I forced a smile, poured myself some tea and put some bread in the toaster. I couldn't remember ever having a dream that stayed with me like this. "I'll get used to it."

    The kitchen looked original to the house, with a large sideboard instead of a counter and a thick butcher's block beside the sink. I looked over my shoulder at Charlene while I waited for the toaster. 

    "How long have you lived here, Charlene?"

    She smiled with obvious pride. "Oh, the house has been in the family forever. It was built by my great-grandparents, before the War Between the States. Do you like old houses?"

    Why was I not surprised? "Yes, I do. They feel lived in." I buttered toast for both of us, then ate quickly and gulped my tea. I hadn't left myself a lot of time. "See you this afternoon."

    My second day of work wasn't much different than the first. That was one of the reasons I'd come here - to avoid the stress burnout I'd felt coming on. The other had been to escape a bad relationship, something that had happened to me more than once. I'd found the want ad in the nursing journal the day after Dean and I split up, and it had seemed like a sign. I needed a change in more ways than one.

    That evening I had supper with Charlene, then buried myself in a novel until bedtime, hoping for a more settled night. It wasn't to be. I found myself beside Ethan's bed again.

    As they had before, the other nurses in the ward ignored me; no one told me I had other patients to attend to. This time I changed his dressing, and I very nearly reacted as that other poor girl had. Some form of weaponry had blown a hole in his lower thigh. I had to wonder why they hadn't amputated his leg right away.

    "Doctor thought it had a chance," he said, as if he'd read my mind. Irresponsible? I had no way of knowing. I had no idea how long ago that had been, but the chance was past now, for the leg and almost certainly for him under these conditions, though his fever seemed a little lower today. After I found some cold water and sponged him down, I sat beside him again.

    "Where are you from, Ethan?"

    "North Carolina. Our place is right on the Roanoke River. When I get out of here, one leg or two, I'm going to find Will - my brother - and go home. The war is over, all but the shouting."

    Faced with this kind of situation I should have been doing a thousand things, but I felt no compulsion to move with Ethan watching me. I listened while he told me about his family, two brothers - one killed early in the war - and two young sisters at home. "They probably won't know me. They were eight and ten when I left. Do you have brothers and sisters?"

    "Two sisters, both married with children. I'm the aunt in the family." I wondered who else was waiting for him. There had to be someone. It was so easy to picture him healthy and whole, the two of us getting acquainted like any other two people, like any other couple.

    He gave me a slow smile. "The men must be blind."

    I think it was his voice that held me more than anything else, but it was failing him. I gave him the look I saved for male patients who talked that way.

    "You're tired. Get some rest."

    An unrepentant gleam lit his eyes for a moment, then he closed them with a sigh. "Don't go yet, Ruth."

    "I won't." I couldn't bear the thought of leaving him like that, but as soon as he drifted off I woke in my room again. I curled my arms around my legs and laid my head on my knees to stop myself from shaking.

    I have to help him. That must be why this is happening. The problem was, the Ruth who observed it all couldn't give her modern knowledge to the Ruth who sat with him. There was nothing I could do.

    Fifteen minutes went by before I could force myself out of bed. Charlene took me to task as soon as I went downstairs.

    "Ruth, we haven't known each other long, but it's obvious something's bothering you. Do you need to talk?" When I hesitated, she added "I may not look it now, but I've had man trouble in my time, if that's the problem."

    I straightened up in my chair. "No, I left man trouble behind me. Never mind, Charlene, I'll be all right."

    Those wise old eyes bored straight into me. "I wondered about that, you coming here like you did. Well, there aren't many worth spoiling your eyes for."

    I laughed gallantly. "You're right about that."

    "Then don't forget it. I forgot to tell you last night that my son is picking me up this afternoon. I'm going to his place for a week. I won't be here when you get home. Take care of yourself."

    I came home from work that evening dreading being in the house alone, but I slept undisturbed that night and the next. I started to hope I'd seen the last of Ethan and the nightmare that surrounded him, but on the third night I went to him almost as soon as I closed my eyes.

    This time one of the other nurses spoke to me, nodding towards Ethan's bed. "He's been asking for you. He needs you now."

    When I got close to the bed, I stopped as if I'd hit a wall. They had finally taken his leg, too late. Now he was almost past needing anyone. One glance told me his poisoned body was shutting down. I'd seen that yellow tinge on skin before, and it always meant the same thing.

    I'd sat by the deathbeds of elderly street people, teenaged gang members, innocent victims of crime, but I didn't think I could stay by this one. I wanted to run from the room, but some inexorable force kept me there. I sat down and picked up his hand. His skin felt like paper.

  This is how you have to help him.

    "Ethan, can you hear me?"

    He opened his eyes for a moment, and I saw recognition there. I didn't suppose he had the strength to speak, but after a few minutes he did.

    "I'm scared, Ruth. I've - I've killed. More than once. What if..."

    The fingers of my other hand slid into his hair. Why the hell am I here? Isn't this a chaplain's job? But he asked for me. I don't know where the words came from, but they came.

    "It's all understood. It has to be. I don't really know what I believe, but I believe that. There's nothing to be afraid of. Your brother's waiting for you. Just let go."

    Those eyes looked into mine one more time. "Stay with me."

    "I won't leave you, Ethan."

    His hand tightened on mine, then a few minutes later it relaxed. I watched the lines of pain ease from his face. It was over.

    I woke sobbing, curled in a tight ball on the bed, in the grip of a kind of grief I'd never experienced, often as I'd seen it in others. Ruth, this makes no sense. Get a grip. Finally I forced myself to sit up.

    This had to be some kind of reaction to the stress I'd been under. The last year hadn't been an easy one. Nothing else could account for this bone-deep sense of loss over someone I'd never had time to get to know.

    He isn't even real. You didn't get out of Chicago a moment too soon.

    I thanked God that I had the next three days off, and so wouldn't have to call in sick. It was noon before I managed to dress and go downstairs for something to eat. That afternoon, desperate to reconnect with the present, I called a couple of old friends for long chats. Though I couldn't tell them what had happened, it helped.

    At suppertime I decided I should get out of the house. I showered, put on my favorite summer dress and walked downtown. Most of the town seemed to be outdoors, enjoying the fine evening. There was a crowd at a Little League game in the ball park, and the outdoor swimming pool was busy. I wasn't surprised when the diner I stepped into turned out to be empty.

    I ordered a chickenburger and fries and took a table by the window. I'd been gazing idly out at the street for a few minutes when another customer came in. I stared at his back in shock.

    He ordered - I was too dazed to hear what - then turned around. Dark gray eyes looked into mine.

    "Hello. Looks like you've got the best table in the house."

    That voice. It went with the eyes and the mahogany hair. This was what he was supposed to look like. Nice shoulders and arms in a black t-shirt, long legs in trim-fitting faded jeans. The same face, filled out and freckled slightly by the sun. I think I managed to sound reasonably sane.

    "You're welcome to share it if you like."

    "I like." He sat down and gave me that slow smile. I smiled back.

    "What's your name?"

    "Ethan."

    "Ethan what?"

    "Ethan Rainford. What's yours?"

    This isn't happening. I must be dreaming again. "Ruth Bascomb. I'm new in town, just started working at the hospital this week."

    His hand moved a bit closer to mine on the table. "I haven't been here long myself. I moved here from North Carolina last month.  I was working for a finance company in Raleigh, but I decided I needed a change."

    Over our meal he told me about the bookstore he was about to open here, and about his family - a younger brother and an older sister. I told him about mine.

    "I'm the aunt in the family."

    He shook his head. "The men must be blind. Look, there's a place down the street that makes homemade ice cream. My treat. What do you say?"

    Homemade ice cream had never sounded so good. Nor had the company. If this was a dream, I didn't want it to end anytime soon. "Lead the way."

    We spent the evening together, walking around town, talking like people do when they connect at first glance. Ethan left me at my door with a promise to meet for coffee in the morning.

    "Ruth, this might sound like a line, but nothing like this has ever happened to me before. I don't want to pass it up."

    Neither did I. We ended up spending the whole day together. And when it ended, I went back to Ethan's apartment with him. Neither of us asked questions. It just felt right.

    It wasn't until I woke up in Ethan's arms the next day that I thought to look for the birthmark on his neck. Of course it was there. I propped myself on an elbow and touched the dime-sized red spot with my lips. He opened his eyes, gave me a sultry grin and pulled me close again.

    "You aren't working today, are you?"

    "No." I don't think it would have made a difference if I had been. Time seemed to have lost its meaning.

    "Stay with me."

    I snuggled back against him and closed my eyes. "I won't leave you, Ethan." Then, or ever. I couldn't explain what had happened or how, but I wasn't letting him go. Once was enough for that.

    His voice still reminded me of rainy nights and sipping whiskey as he whispered in my ear.

    "Now I like the sound of that."