Aether Spirit by Cecilia Dominic Read Free Book Online

Radcliffe. “And the old general’s ghost.”
    * * * * *
    Once they descended the quartermaster’s cottage steps, Perkins turned to Chad.
    “Well, you’ve won. Are you happy?”
    Chad backed away from the other doctor’s angry glare. Shame sprouted in his chest now that he pondered his behavior, but he’d do it again to defend Claire— Doctor McPhee, he reminded himself. He could have figured out a better way to handle Perkins’s characteristic misogyny, though, than violence. It only showed Chad how her being there frayed his own nerves.
    “Not really,” Chad said. “We have a consumptive on the ward. I only hope that I’m able to have him moved soon enough. Nanette should have told me about his cough the moment he came in.”
    “Well, she’s been…busy.” Perkins grinned. “Don’t worry about your precious little neuroticist. I prefer brunettes. Staying on the general’s good side was my ticket out of here, but if you’ve screwed it up, I’m happy to remain and be a thorn in your side for a very very long time.”
    It wasn’t Chad’s fault he was a better doctor and administrator than Perkins. He wondered yet again if he would have gotten the other man’s respect had he not been half Negro.
    Perkins turned off toward the tailor’s hut, and Chad headed back toward the hospital and his patients. How had Nanette, whom he’d always found to be a capable nurse, missed Private Smith’s characteristic consumptive cough? Perhaps he’d been unconscious when she first saw him? Or maybe the long period of inactivity at the front—aside from the previous medical chief’s murder—had made them all complacent.
    Once at the hospital, it didn’t take long for one of the general’s nephews to be ousted from a private room so Private Smith could be isolated, at least as much as they were able. It wasn’t Doctor McPhee’s area, but he suspected she would be abreast of what they did in Europe to prevent consumption from spreading. While war sometimes bred invention, having the country split in two and focused on survival definitely slowed medical innovation.
    He sent one of the young nurses to the mess hall to grab him a bite to eat—he told himself it was because he was busy, not because he wanted to avoid the gauntlet that any public gathering place on the base would have become after he’d shoved Perkins. In spite of being from the supposedly more enlightened Union, some of the soldiers would take it upon themselves to avenge Perkins with chairs shoved out at inopportune times or boots stuck out from under tables—accidentally, of course. He went into his office to tackle the mound of charts. He’d just settled into his chair when a knock startled him.
    “Doctor Radcliffe?”
    He turned to see a young soldier whose arm was in a sling. His unruly blond curls hadn’t seen a comb in several days and made a halo around his head.
    “Yes, Sergeant?”
    “My arm was doing better yesterday, but now I can’t move my fingers.” Indeed his hand was so swollen his fingers looked like sausages.
    “Doctor Perkins will be in clinic this afternoon.”
    “Sorry to bother you, but I’d rather you look at it. Sir.” He swallowed, and his face blanched. He could barely get the words out, “He’s quick to amputate. At least that’s what the other boys say.”
    “Let me grab your chart so I can see his notes. What is your name?”
    “McPhee, sir. Sergeant Bryce McPhee. I think we’ve met.”
    Chad turned from the chart shelves and dropped a shaking hand to his side. He remembered a boy with curly blond hair being teased at the party just before the tragedy that had taken Claire from him. “From Boston? And your last name isn’t McPhee. It’s Adams.”
    “Yes, sir. I needed to change it to get away from my mother. I think you were courting my cousin Claire. I’ve heard she’s here? It will be good to see a friendly face after so long.”
    Chad put his head in his hands. “I’ll look at your arm, but