A Nurse for Daniel Read online

  A Nurse for Daniel

  Nursing the Heart Romance

  Book 7

  MARLENE BIERWORTH

  Copyright © 2020 Marlene Bierworth

  All rights reserved.

  No part of this book may be reproduced by any means, graphic, electronic, or mechanical including photocopying, recording, taping or by any information storage retrieval system without written permission of the author, Marlene Bierworth, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles and reviews.

  Disclaimer

  This book is a work of fiction. Names, places, character and events are the product of the author’s imagination. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events or locals is purely coincidental.

  About the Book

  Gwen has graduated The Harrow School of Nursing and is sent to assist a recovering patient at the McAlister Plantation in Kentucky. Besides a bum-leg, a close-range blast during a Civil War battle has stolen all of Daniel’s childhood memories, and he now struggles with fitting into his old life, or finding motivation to begin anew. He underestimates the determination of the nurse his father hires, and is ill-prepared for the fight to win back his body, soul, and mind.

  When the unexpected baby is delivered to the McAlister doorstep, it changes everything for the couple who are just beginning to see beyond Daniel’s healing and into a possible future together. Can love survive misplaced duty and provide freedom for romance in the aftermath of a past that threatens it all?

  Join Daniel and Gwen in this heartwarming story of new beginnings.

  Table of Contents

  Cover

  Copyright

  About the Book

  Table of Contents

  Chapters 1 through 14

  Epilogue

  About the Series

  Author’s Bio & Contact Information

  Chapter 1

  May of 1868

  Gwendolyn received the notice to report to the headmaster’s office the next day, promptly at one o’clock. Any fatigue she’d felt prior to the note fell by the wayside. She’d tossed all night long, anticipating her assignment, and at the first light of day, began a tedious toilet routine to ensure her appearance was worthy of the high-calling of her new status. Cleanliness was next to godliness, or so her teachers had instructed in a no-nonsense manner. Gwendolyn had taken it to heart and displayed an immaculate stature at all times, which put her in good stead with the director of nurses.

  Five days ago, she’d completed the necessary schooling at the Harrow School of Nursing in Maryland and received her hard-earned diploma. She was not at the top in her class—which continued to irritate her—but her final mark landed somewhere in the respectable middle of graduates and she’d just have to live with it.

  Success obtaining perfection in home management had come easy, but there was so much more to consider when it came to caring for the sick and working in the growing world of medicine. Gwendolyn’s competitive nature had occasionally irritated her fellow band of dedicated women but it never alienated them. She had grown close to many of her classmates over the three-month program, and her heart cried a little more each time one headed off, eager to begin their new posting, while she remained waiting for Constance Harrow’s summons.

  When it finally came, the directive did not bring the relief for which she’d hoped, but terror. What if the woman put her in some remote town of hillbilly heathens? She chided herself that she should be grateful for the opportunity, not only to nurse within the community but to reach them for Christ.

  Waiting brought out the worst of Gwendolyn’s character, but it would soon be over.

  She strolled through the reception area where the ceremony had taken place, feeling small beneath the high, U-shaped ceilings and carved, wooden beams. No one from her family had attended the spring graduation service to cheer her on to her new vocation. She hadn’t expected her father to make the trip from nearby Baltimore: For no one quite measured up to his strict standards, and leaving his successful tailor’s business in the city, just to see his grown daughter receive a degree in nursing, would not have entered his mind. It was his firm belief she should be home, entertaining suitors. Gwendolyn had held onto the hope that Mother would have made an effort, but it appeared she’d used the event to remind the disillusioned woman-child of her anger at her ridiculous desire for independence: She was of the opinion that women belonged at home, supervising her husband’s household, not traipsing the countryside.

  She sighed—their attitudes were old battles that she was not willing to fight anymore.

  The morning dragged on, but it was better waiting there than at home, where hostility hung in the air like a thick curtain announcing the end of the production that was her childhood. Gwendolyn checked the hands on the grandfather clock in the downstairs lobby every ten minutes. She stood diligently by when the long hand crept toward the twelve, and the shorter one pointed to the number one. Gwendolyn ran her palms nervously down the folds of her dress and pushed a rebellious strand of flaxen hair behind her ear.

  At the door to the office, Gwendolyn cast her eyes heavenward, placing her future in His capable hands.

  A curt voice answered her knock and Gwendolyn turned the knob and walked in. “Good afternoon, Ms. Harrow.”

  “And to you, my dear. Sit down. I have good news.”

  Gwendolyn sat on the edge of a cushioned chair, straight across from the woman who would start her on the next adventure in life.

  “Thank you for your patience in the selection process. I attempt to place each nurse in an environment that I think best fits her temperament.”

  Gwendolyn nodded politely but hid any sign of a smile. The administrator considered this final stage serious business and would take it as a personal insult if a graduate should make light of her in-depth search for suitable work.

  “I’ve noticed that you work better with patients on a one-to-one basis, while not under the watchful eye of a supervisor. You have a relentless spirit that is lathered in compassion, as well as a good intuition for reaching the souls of those in your care while tending to their physical needs. That is why I chose not to place you in a hospital setting.”

  Gwendolyn’s face revealed her surprise, for many of her peers had already left for institutions across America, and she figured she’d follow suit.

  “You are surprised?” Constance said. “One cannot throw all nurses into the same pot. Skills and personality play a big part in my decision.”

  Gwendolyn wished she’d stop beating around the bush. If not a state hospital, then where would she go after spending three intense months of serious study. She bit her lip. As much as she’d like to claim victory by displaying the fruits of the spirit, her lack of patience often raised its ugly head to destroy her witness.

  “There is a family in Kentucky who have suffered great loss during the Civil War. Their one and only son lost his memory in combat, somehow escaped the camp hospital, and then wandered off to a town nearby, where he lived the life of a beggar. A woman apparently watched out for him, to make sure he didn’t starve.”

  “That was kind of her,” Gwendolyn said.

  “Many principles and boundaries have been tested this past decade,” Constance said. “The patient’s father, Thomas McAlister, discovered his whereabouts quite by accident while on a business trip. The lad was brought home, but the family is at a loss as to how to restore him back to his former self.”

  “We both know that may never happen. The workings of the mind are unpredictable at the best of times,” Gwendolyn said.

  Constance Harrow closed the file and sighed. “Yes, well, the affluent among us tend to believe money can perform miracles. It’s your job to do the bes
t you can, and perhaps seize an opportunity to point them to the Lord who specializes in total healing.”

  Gwendolyn let out a long breath. “I am God’s servant and will try my best.” She wanted to scream—what a waste of her newly-developed nursing skills.

  “Since his return to the McAlister plantation, Daniel shows little interest in taking his rightful place as the future heir to their huge operation, and the family would like the aid of a nurse.”

  “But he has no injuries—what will I do?”

  “He did have serious injuries to his left side, which continues to hinder him from walking with a proper nobleman’s gait; his father’s words, not mine.” She chuckled slightly, and continued. “He will need exercise, but you should target his inner-man, Nurse Gwendolyn. Daniel McAlister is an emotional victim of combat, unable to or uninterested in adapting to life after the war.”

  Gwendolyn’s brow lifted, and the woman attempted to appease her. “We did cover studies in the science of psychology. Perhaps this duty will more satisfy your definition of a nurse.”

  “Yes, we did, Miss Harrow.” Gwendolyn sighed, realizing that the woman was probably right in giving her an emotionally ill patient. Aiding doctors in bloody operations in tents lined with dying men during the war had left her feeling nauseated. She’d never succumbed to fainting but had hoped to overcome the weakness in her new job posting. She supposed she could easily put that skill development off for a while.

  “My dear, I’m afraid I am sending you into the young McAlister’s lion’s den. Surgeons in Kentucky have done all they can to heal his wounded leg, so physically, he is coping, but there are complications. Thomas McAlister is reluctant to share to what, exactly, those complications are. His family cannot cope, and they are in need of the help of a nurse with a strong backbone who will not buckle under the lad’s demanding ways. Depression does strange things to one’s mind, especially our war heroes, and I’ve watched you do miracles with such patients.”

  Constance inhaled while studying Gwendolyn. “What do you think, Miss Peters? Are you up for the challenge?”

  Gwendolyn swallowed the lump forming in her throat. To serve in a home with such sadness… She’d witnessed soldiers who had crawled inside themselves and refused to let anyone past their defences. She was barely one week out of school and the ripe old age of nineteen, far too young, in her estimation, to face such mysteries of the inner-man.

  “I do have three younger brothers who have tried to bully me for years. I suppose the training I received there will help in this situation.”

  Constance Harrow pushed back her chair and stood. “Exactly. I have every confidence in you. The family is hoping for a full recovery, and you’re the best to prepare them for the worst-case scenario, should the Good Lord continue to withhold the lad’s memories. Good luck, Nurse Gwendolyn.”

  She reached her hand out, and the young woman gripped it with fresh strength. She was a graduate of the notorious Harrow School of Nursing.

  “I won’t fail the Academy’s reputation, Ms. Harrow,” Gwendolyn said.

  “I’m sure you won’t.” She offered one of those rare smiles and continued. “Be sure to use that firm handshake when you greet Thomas McAlister, the father who will pay your wages. You will gain his confidence immediately.”

  “When do I leave?”

  The woman passed Gwendolyn an envelope. “The train to Kentucky pulls out tomorrow afternoon. I trust that is ample time for you to pack?”

  “Yes, of course. I’ll be on the train,” Gwendolyn said. “Any last nuggets of advice?”

  “Just be yourself and tend to the man’s physical, emotional, and spiritual needs, if allowed the privilege. I will send the McAlisters a wire, informing them of your time of arrival. Good-bye. I shall miss you, child.”

  And just like that, Gwendolyn’s future was sealed. When the door closed behind her, she leaned against it and exhaled loudly. The assignment was not at all what she’d expected, and she suddenly felt insecure. For the first time, she questioned her choice of vocation.

  Chapter 2

  “You expect me to go and pick up your latest hire?” Daniel yelled from across the table. “No way! You want her here—you go get her.”

  “Son, you are acting like a spoiled child. The nurse knows all the latest medical advances in patient recovery. You should be grateful that we can afford such luxuries,” his mother said.

  “You both expect the impossible. I understand you want your son back, but the fair-haired boy who left Kentucky to fight for the cause is long gone. If I don’t remember you by now, Mother, I never will.”

  He called her Mother because it lit up her face, and he tired of seeing it drag the floor with pity since his arrival home. Home—it seemed such a distant stretch of his imagination. She’d hugged him fiercely upon his return, while his arms had lain limp at his sides. Thomas McAlister had proudly shaken his son’s hand and thanked Daniel for his service to the country. The Christian name, Daniel, was foreign even to his own lips, and he rarely responded to the first call for his attention.

  The good Samaritan in that small town of refuge had nicknamed him Daniel-boy, and the casualness of the way it rippled from her lips, gave him a sense of liberty—an existence without responsibility. But that façade had been snatched from him when his father showed up for a chance meeting with Richmond’s mayor. Upon discovery, Daniel had been dragged from his isolation and welcomed back into his childhood home, but the move from familiar to unfamiliar, had only intensified the raging within his soul.

  Daniel’s homecoming was a disappointment to his parents from day one, and it fatigued him to watch them walk on eggshells every time he entered the main house. Most days, he hid out in the Chalet, which he’d claimed as his new private quarters. He’d opt to run again, but where would he go? There was certainly no benefit in abandoning the roof over your head and food on your table.

  His mind re-enacted the horrors of battle during the night terrors, which drenched him in sweat. Upon awakening, agonizing fear always gripped him like a strongman. But miraculously, the light of day blocked even those memories. He lived as a newborn babe, without identity but still able to function using the skills and knowledge he’d learned as a youngster. Only the people he’d known had been cut from his life, as if they lived in a separate part of his brain—one which he could not unlock.

  The doctor had informed him that the mind was complex, and no one really understood how it functioned. Then, he apprised Daniel of his new reality—no one could predict when or if his memory would ever return. It was a wonder he hadn’t been killed by the cannon blast and the angle of his head when he’d hit the stone. Daniel simply awakened one day in the army hospital, his body shattered and torn, his fragmented mind wiped completely clean like a new slate. He’d escaped when he was well enough, and no one had come looking for him.

  “You have that faraway look in your eyes,” Thomas said. “Are you recalling something?”

  Daniel sighed. It was the question of the day, repeated many times over, every day, which irritated him beyond endurance, and he felt the anger within him rising to the surface. Maybe getting off the property would be a good thing.

  He stood and placed his napkin on the half-empty lunch plate. “Would you have Arthur bring the carriage around to my quarters? I’ve changed my mind. I will pick up your nurse, but don’t expect me to like it, or her, for that matter.” When he reached the door, he turned around to address the gaping onlookers. “Pray tell, where is this angel of mercy going to sleep?”

  “She will live in the cottage adjoining your chalet. If you will not sleep under our roof surely your caregiver shall not either. Peggy cleaned it yesterday and laid fresh flowers on her table to welcome her to the McAlister Plantation.”

  “Perfect. Now I won’t have to extend a false greeting. She needs to know straight off that I will not tolerate her interfering with my daily routine.”

  “Which is?” Thomas asked.

  T
he young man ignored his father’s sarcasm and headed for the front door. What little peace he found in his isolated cottage, far from the probing eyes of his do-gooder family, was about to be invaded, and it appeared he had no say in the matter.

  At the station, Daniel remained in the carriage and sent the hired man, Arthur, to wait on the platform. Crowds did not appeal to him, and he refused to give the nurse the false hope that he was thrilled at the prospect of her arrival. Puffs of grey smoke exploded into the air about the same time the shrill whistle of the locomotive sounded. Within minutes, the black beast rounded the corner.

  Curiosity got the better of him as he watched the people disembark. Families ran to greet one another with open arms and excitement. Businessmen wore frock coats and narrow-brimmed silk hats with a tall, flat-top while carrying leather bags, holding their so-called important papers. Ladies of the night were easy to spot, their come-on eyes inviting every male within view to take a free peek. The saloons were full of this type, and Daniel steered clear of the sin-infested house of ill-repute. Funny how he hadn’t forgotten God. In fact, his faith had grown from mere acknowledgement to something deeper. He wasn’t always certain he appreciated the new relationship, but most times he tolerated it, for the lack of better company. Daniel didn’t have to put on airs with the Almighty. God knew him inside and out, and that, in itself, proved comforting on some level.

  He focused on the conductor as he helped the damsels from the train as a perfect gentleman should. The next one to disembark was on the younger side, clean-cut, and well-dressed, definitely not the hussy-type. Sky-blue eyes lit up brighter than the noonday sun as she scanned the platform. Perhaps she was one of those mail order brides in search of a rich husband. She’d find plenty in Kentucky. Hopefully, hers would appreciate the sturdy countenance and not press her delicacies into oblivion under his stern rule—as his mother had. An older woman followed close behind the girl, and the conductor soon left his post to hurry inside the depot.