Title: A Farewell to Arms
Authors: Nicola, Lana & Scifidreamer
RATING: ADULT
SUMMARY: Basically it's the dreamer version of the movie 'love and war' with a few different twists and a different ending. Max is a New Zealand soldier and Liz is an American nurse rah rah rah.
DISCLAIMER: We don't own the characters or the idea.
AUTHORS NOTE: We'll post the parts we wrote ourselves so it's not confusing as to who wrote each part...
......
Northern Italy 1918
Here, during the final year of World War I, Italy was defending itself alone against the Austrian invasion. The United States of America was one of Italy’s allies but the US army was already fully committed to France. So President Wilson sent in teams of Red Cross doctors and nurses to boost Italian morale and help care for the wounded.
The truck rumbled below her feet as it changed gears to turn the corner. She wanted to take off her leather boots and rest her socks against the vibrating ground so she could feel the trembles up her legs but there was not long to go now before they arrived.
Liz Parker patted her hands against her thighs in anticipation and fought silently with herself to calm her hammering heart.
“It’s a handsome city, isn’t it?”
She crooked her head to the side to gaze at the American boy driving the vehicle. He evoked no sentiment inside her but she didn’t want to disappoint him for he was clearly fascinated with her.
“Yes, unquestionably,” she replied. “This countryside is without a doubt charming and if I wasn’t so anxious to get to the sanatorium then I would have taken much pleasure in travelling through it.”
He smiled. “Well, perhaps on some occasion when you are not engaged we will be able to explore it together?”
“Perhaps,” Liz replied having no intention of doing anything with him. “But are we not here to do a job? I think it is rather unorthodox of you to make plans with me on such a premature occasion. Especially, when we have no idea of how much we will be demanded of in the upcoming weeks.”
“Perhaps I am purely securing the future,” he alleged. “Does not a clever man make a point of attaining what he wants, even if it is on the wrong occasion?”
Liz rolled her eyes to herself. “A clever man does, yes. However, you are yet to prove that you have achieved that title to me so I am ignorant of your astuteness.”
“Give me time,” he said. “Give me time dearest and I will.”
Outside crowds had gathered to shout approval and greet the squad of Americans that were arriving.
When they reached the new sickbay Liz could not be more pleased to get out of the unventilated truck. She waved her hand in front of her face as she walked around the side of the vehicle to start unloading supplies.
Her best-friend was there already scratching under her bonnet and bad-tempered because of the high temperature. She was delighted to see Liz.
“I think I may already be regretting volunteering,” she said pessimistically.
Liz smiled. “But I thought I heard you appraise the Italian men and their good looks just a few hours ago? Were you not delighted to find such a well endowed kingdom?”
“Oh I was delighted, right up until I found out they weren’t driving our trucks and these school-boys were,” Maria groaned.
After the trucks were unloaded and were about to depart the male that Liz had driven with came and spoke to her. “Don’t forget our date,” he said.
She forced a smile. “You know where I am.”
Maria hooted with laughter.
“Don’t even think it,” Liz defended herself. She looked around the crowds and bounced up and down to see past the people. “I have to find a toilet, come on.”
The mayor was giving a speech in Italian. He welcomed the nurses to the town and expressed gratitude towards them for their generosity.
“This place looks like a nunnery,” one of the nurses named Tess, pointed out.
Isabel, the head nurse, gathered the group together. “It looks like a nunnery because that’s exactly what it used to be. Now if we can head up the stairs, there is a lot of work to be done.”
Liz and Maria rejoined the group and followed quietly.
“You know what I read once?” Liz said to Maria quietly. “Italian men respect their wives, they spoil their mistresses, but the only women they ever really love are their mothers.”
……………
The trench smelt like wet soil, decaying flesh, cigarette smoke, and rifle powder.
Just for a change, he desired to whiff something saccharine or at least, zesty. He wanted to taste something that he hadn’t already had, just once. He wanted to glimpse at something that wasn’t horrific, just for a break.
Max Evans reached into his rucksack and pulled out a letter from home. Though it was three weeks old it still helped him flee the dreariness of the trench he lived in.
Dearest Max,
We love you and pray for your life everyday.
“What are you going to do when the wars over?” A comrade asked in the milieu.
His best friend, Michael Guerin, answered the question with built up fervour. His words were soaked in the dreams he had every night the reverie he had everyday.
“I’m going to find myself a fine-looking girl and drive down to the seaside to eat scrumptious foods and drink alcohol. We’ll make love on the sand all night and then watch the break of day.”
Johnson, a British combatant, punched Guerin’s arm. “That’s touching man.”
“I didn’t think that the English referred to sex as making love,” an Italian fighter in their platoon said.
Guerin laughed. “Only the respectable men do, I must have picked it up off Max.”
Weir glanced at Max. “Evans, what are you going to do when the wars over?” he asked.
Max glimpsed at Weir over the paper in his unclean hands. “I’m going to start preparing for the next one,” he answered. He had little room left for optimism in his intellect, all his time was devoted to remembering all he had learnt in his prior natural life. In this spiteful, livid place he saw only one way of surviving, that was to not disregard what you left behind and what you had to get back to.
Abruptly a boy jumped into the trench from above and like a reflex, all the men reached for their rifles.
“It’s okay,” the boy said. “I’m just the delivery guy. Do any of you speak English?”
The soldiers laughed and dropped their rifles.
Max put his letter away. “Most of us do,” he answered. As the captain of their platoon he felt a certain liability towards his men. He felt he owed them enough to remain breathing and offer a few words of support. He didn’t consider himself first-class at giving pep-talks but he did his best.
“Oh, that’s grand,” the boy said. He held his hand out to Max and they shook hands to introduce themselves. “The names Kyle Valenti, I’m from America.”
“America,” Max said surprised. “It’s good to meet you Kyle, my names Maxwell Evan’s, I’m from New Zealand.”
“That’s quite a far bit away,” Kyle said. “So, how long have you guys been down here?” he asked while he handed out cigarettes, coffee and candy bars.
“Three months,” Guerin replied.
Weir lit the cigarette in his mouth. “Any news for us from the land of the living?” He asked.
“I’ll tell you, it seems to be more interesting down here then it is up there,” Kyle replied.
“I find that doubtful,” Johnson said.
Max listened to the bangs above and, feeling uneasy, crawled upwards to where they shot their rifles from. He stared out at the battlefield, searching for something to cause alarm but came across nothing. The gold and yellow sparks from the explosion in the air lit the area a great deal so if a planned assault were about to take place he would spot something.
Gradually he moved back to where he sat previously and checked his rifle just in case. He sensed he needed to be ready to stand in.
“What do you think about while you’re down here?” Kyle asked, obviously enthralled to be near the action like a genuine soldier. Max felt a tinge of irritation towards his innocence; did he know how horrifying it was to be down here experiencing fatality everyday?
When the explosions from above became louder and more evident, Max’s heart started thumping with adrenaline. He had a ghastly feeling that something life-changing was about to happen.
Suddenly a shell flung in and hit the side of the bunks before flying straight towards Johnson and hitting him in the back of the head. Flesh and brains exploded everywhere and Johnson’s body fell to the ground still twitching and shaking from the impact.
“No!” Max exclaimed leaping forwards to try and help.
Guerin held him back. “There’s nothing you can do,” he yelled. “There’s nothing you can do, look at him!”
Max shoved him away and landed on his knees next to Johnson’s body. “No, come on, come on…someone get a stretcher down here!” He rolled the body over only to find a mass of mangled flesh where a face was supposed to be.
Kyle, shaking from shock, retched at the sight of the body. Max would have wondered if he still thought the life of a soldier was thrilling if he wasn’t too busy trying to think of something to do with Johnson’s body. Before he could do anything an explosion from above pitched the trench into gloom. Max flew back and hit the wall with the force and was knocked out for a minute.
When he came to, all he could see was smoke, blazing flames and bodies. Some were groaning for help and some weren’t. He got up and discovered he had slashed his forehead and the blood was dripping down his temple but that was a small priority to him. He stumbled across the trench and found Guerin lying on his stomach with a hole in his back. Max pulled on a helmet and heaved his friend up onto his shoulder.
Knowing the only thing he could do was make a run for it, he set off in the direction of safety. Bullets whizzed past him, missing his body by millimetres and cracking the earth beside him. Soil and chunks of muck soared up, clouding his eyes. Up ahead he couldn’t see much but the explosions in the air lit up the ground where he was running.
Michael was a dead weight on his shoulders and he could feel the muscles pulling in his back with every step he took. He didn’t want to injure his friend wound further by his bumping up and down but there was nothing he could do to help right now. Finally, he found a group of stretcher-men heading to the trench to clean up the carnage and scavenge for breathing soldiers. They took Michael from him and told him to go to safety and get his head checked but Max wouldn’t leave his men behind.
He ran back to the trench again to collect who he could find and found Weir and Tyson struggling to get up.
“What’s that white on my leg?” Tyson asked.
Max got covered in Tyson’s blood when he lifted him up over his shoulder. “It’s your bone, you’ve dislocated it. Don’t worry you’ll be fine. Hold on. Weir, can you walk on your own?”
Weir’s face was painted with horror. His left arm was absent and he was screaming ear-piercingly in agony.
“Blimey,” Tyson cried. “Weir, come on! You’ll be okay, you’ll be okay!”
Max rapped one of his arms around Weir’s shoulders and they all ran and limped as far as they could get to the stretchers. The stretcher men came and collected them and again Max tried to go back. He got half way when an agonising feeling spread through his right leg. He collapsed to the ground in anguish and howled in pain.
He passed out again and when he roused from his sleep he was in a little hospital tent on a cot next to other wounded soldiers. He looked around hoping to see a familiar face but he couldn’t find any of his men. His leg was throbbing and he couldn’t move it, all he wanted was to get up and take charge again.
“Please,” he said to a doctor. “Where are my men?”
The man looked at him peculiarly and said something in Italian before walking away. Max closed his eyes and tried to calm his speeding heart. Please, he thought, let them be alive.
When he opened his eyes again he was thinking more coherently and observed that all the men in this tent were either captains or officers. Their high rankings were visibly marked on the shoulder straps of their uniform.
“Gray!” he called when he finally noticed him. He was higher above him but they were good friends.
Officer Gray rolled his head to look in the direction of the voice that had called him. “Evans!” he replied grinning. “Fancy seeing you here you kiwi bastard, what have you done to yourself?”
“I’m not quite sure,” Max said. He felt his head start to go hot and knew a fever was coming on. A drip of sweat dripped down the side of his face and he closed his eyes to try and compose myself.
“Get better,” Gray said. “For Heaven’s sake I expect to see you at the Piave River in June.”
Max felt the darkness crawling over his eyeballs trying to suck him into oblivion and the last thing he saw before he lost perception was his bandaged and bleeding leg.
………………
“What’s going on?” Maria asked running up behind Liz as she tied her apron.
“They’ve just brought in a wagon load of patients,” Tess answered. She put her white hat on her head and tied it behind her hair.
It was late evening and all the nurses knew instantaneously that the rest of their evening would be spent immersed in helping save the soldiers lives. Their objective was to help as many as they could last until morning.
Isabel walked through into the single titanic hospital ward they had. She clapped her hands once and called to her nurses, “Girls, girls. Elizabeth, you will handle this side, section A, Tessa section B, and Maria section C.”
While the three girls hurried out to the lift to help their new patients Isabel continued to assign divisions of the room, two beds each. “Gorgia section D, Harriet section E, Rachael section F…”
The first patient to come up the lift was a blond man with a chest wound, Liz lead the stretcher through to her section and came back to get the next man. He was a striking dark haired man with a bullet in his leg. Liz reluctantly handed him over to Tess who had less experience and would be able to handle looking after him.
By the time all the men were in their beds and truck was empty, only a quarter of the ward was full. Five of the nurses had one patient each and the rest were left to assist them. All and sundry was confident that this would not be the last load.
Liz fussed around her patient deep into the morning, cleaning his wound and re-bandaging his chest. She dabbed his face with wet towels and tried to aid him through his fevers but did not think he would make it. Nevertheless, she did her greatest and sustained even when Harriet offered to take her place so she could go put her feet up.
Liz was very fervent about her work. She put her patients ahead of herself on every occasion. She was very professional and took great superiority in her work, though sometimes when she lost the fight to death she took it too expressively. She was the classic case of getting too involved in her work.
“Liz.” Tess approached her confidant around four in the morning. “I’m going to head to bed; will you keep an eye on my patient? I’ve done all I can for him for now.”
“Of course Tess,” Liz said. She yawned into her hand. “Get some sleep for the both of us.”
Tess patted Liz’s arm. “Get someone to cover for you soon or you won’t be able to keep your eyes open tomorrow.”
Liz rubbed her forehead and smiled at her friend. “I’ll go to bed when I know he’ll be okay,” she replied.
Tess rolled her eyes. “You are compulsive, I think you’ve done just as much as you can for him and he has you to show gratitude for lasting this long.”
Liz continued to sit with her patient wiping his sweat-covered face for another half an hour before going to check on Tess’s patient. While she was un-wrapping his bullet wound she watched his face, he wasn’t completely peaceful but his well-sculptured face was appealing to her. She could appreciate good looks when she saw them, even if quite frequently she didn’t pursue the man who held the charisma to attract her attention.
There were only two other nurses still up and walking around helping the soldiers. One of them, named Monica came and asked if she was okay.
“I’m in good health, I’m better then some of these guys,” Liz replied. “Don’t worry about me.”
“You just looked a little dazed for a second there,” Monica said. “If you’re sure, you’re okay…”
“I am,” Liz said smiling as if to prove it. “Thank you.”
When Monika left, she continued examining his wound and cleaning it. After a few minutes he started to shift and gradually woke up. When his eyes flickered open she looked down at him with a smirk on her face.
“Hey soldier,” she said. Butterflies fluttered, flapped, and waved in her stomach.
He looked up at her with bewilderment. He had the most handsome eyes. “Am I going to die?” He asked.
“Eventually,” she answered, still smiling. “But not in the near future.”
“Are you certain?” He asked.
“I’m positive,” she replied.
He spoke again promptly before falling to sleep once more, “I love you, will you marry me?”
Liz chuckled to herself as he slept. She’d had a lot of patients and they’d said a lot of things to her but that was by far the most unanticipated.
The next time Max woke he felt woozy. His eyes moved from side to side under his eye-lids and his head throbbed inexorably. It was as if a tennis ball was bouncing about in his brain. When coherent thoughts started coming to him he unhurriedly eased his eyes open to find himself in an active, bright, hospital ward.
He batted an eyelid in an attempt to adjust to the light and let out an exhausted mouthful of air. He could see other patients lying in their beds, some were being fed by their nurses, some where sitting-up staring into space. Max knew what they were all thinking.
After all the things he had seen he marvelled at how he was still sane. Nothing in his previous life had prepared him for what had been thrown on him for the duration of this one. That’s how it felt, like this was a different life, a different hell that in no way allied his childhood.
He wondered whether he would ever feel the contentment of being alive again. He had felt the terror that caused his men to shrivel into their shell holes and pull the trigger on their lives. There was nothing human about the hostilities of this conflict; zero of what he had seen resembled anything humane.
His fingers quivered as he replayed the horrors of the preceding two years in his mind. His heart impaired for the men that vanished, their bodies blown to particles so minute not even the birds would find them.
“Good afternoon sleepy-head.”
He was shaken from his daze by a nurse touching his arm. A flash of a brunette splendour flickered in his mind but this woman in front of him was not her. He heaved a sigh dismally when he realized he must have conjured her up on his own.
“Good afternoon,” he replied slowly.
She smiled gaily, her big cherry lips glossy with too much lipstick. “I’m Tess, I’m going to be your nurse while you’re getting better. How do you feel? How’s your leg?”
Her blonde hair was pulled back and confined within her nurses’ cap which allowed her immense, sparkling blue eyes to be viewed candidly. To most she would be a very eye-catching specimen of the perfect woman but, though attractive, ignited no spark within him.
It had been an awfully long time since he had seen a woman, let alone spoke to one. “My head feels sore but otherwise I’m too thankful to be in daylight again to complain,” he said.
“Well that’s good.” She was overly enthusiastic and Max hoped that that would bring him into high spirits rather then irritate him. “I’m just going to check your wound,” she said.
Max stared around the room while he waited. There were about sixty beds in the ward and only a small percentage of them were occupied. On the opposite wall to him there were sets of French doors in a sequence, four beds- a door, four beds-a door. At the head of the room there was a nurses’ station and down the centre of the room wooden tables with trays holding jugs of water and glasses were set out.
The ceiling was high with wooden beams and in-between every two beds a light and cupboard was positioned. From what he had seen before, this was the typical, clean, tidy hospital ward.
He rolled his head to look at the entrance when he heard laughter. Two nurses walked in together talking amongst themselves. It had been an extremely long time since he had heard authentic laughter, it was a beautiful sound. The nurses parted with smiles on their faces and one of them approached the bed next to his.
It was her, the woman that he had seen earlier. She was stunning, far too good-looking to be working as a nurse. She had dark brown hair, soft cheeks and a petite frame. Her lips were thin and rosy, her eyes animated but at the same time serious. They were dark puddles of auburn, the colour of all delectable things—sweet coffee and strawberry chocolate.
She looked up from her patient and caught him watching her. She smiled, showing more perfection—glistening white teeth and then looked away again.
“Oh my,” he heard Tess whisper to herself. “Liz, Liz, would you come here for a moment?”
So that was her name. Liz, he could get used to saying that. Liz.
Liz gracefully floated over to the bed and stood next to Tess. She looked down at the wound and, he could have been wrong, sniffed slightly. She shot Tess a look, which resembled a look of apprehension.
“Is everything okay?” He asked finally.
Liz smiled reassuringly at him. “Everything’s fine, how do you feel?”
“I feel great,” he said a little too forcefully.
“That’s wonderful,” she replied. “You’ll excuse me I must check bed eight.”
She walked away and a few seconds later Tess followed her. “Gangrene?” she asked.
Liz nodded. “When does the doctor arrive?”
“Not until tomorrow,” Tess answered.
“He doesn’t have that long. We are going to have to aerate the wound every hour until then.”
Tess’s eyes widened. “But you can’t do that, it’s not allowed without a doctor’s permission.”
“I don’t care,” Liz whispered. “He’ll loose his leg otherwise; he’s too young to loose his leg.”
Tess shook her head. “That sort of thing could get you shipped back to the states,” she said. “You’re stupid if you do it.”
“If you won’t help me,” Liz said, “I’ll do it by myself.” She walked away leaving Tess and Max watching her, both for different reasons.
Chapter Two
Staring at the ceiling was the only entertainment Max could find oh his dreary first afternoon in the ward. None of the patients could talk to him so he was left alone with his thoughts. However they were haunting and he wished to keep them sealed in his memory away from his conscious.
He pretended he was at home listening to his mother play the piano after dinner. She would chant quietly to herself and he could hear the words even from his bed upstairs. Her voice used to urge him to sleep and it amazed him that it still worked now at his late age.
Her soft finger taps on the keys would make the most beautiful tunes and when she played it was as if nothing could be wrong in the world. She would sometimes play with her eyes closed and her hair back so she could pretend she was somewhere else, in a gorgeous meadow with the wind blowing through her hair.
Diana Evans was a stunning woman and she was appreciated by everyone, but no one adored her as her husband did. He would come home from work and stay with her in the kitchen, talking about his day and then asking about hers. Max was their only child, their pride and joy, their most prized possession.
When the war begun in 1914, when Max was 21, most people assumed it would be a short war. His parents remained cheery, refusing to talk about the matter in front of their son. Only he seemed to notice the rifle posts being positioned on the beaches and the trenches being built in every neighbourhood. New Zealand prepared the only way they knew how but it was all futile because if the enemy were to arrive, there would be doubt as to who would win.
Anything German in the district was considered appalling and was scorched in gigantic bonfires, not to mention what happened to every Hun who was unfortunate enough to live near by. Every single one of them in the city was sent packing. “Go back home!” People would shout as they pitched rubbish at their hunched backs. Diana and Philip Evans stayed uninvolved, refusing to take part, scared to take part. Max knew a German woman down their street who, when he was little would always give him a hard candy when he walked by her house. When he started getting older she would cluck over him and tell him how handsome he was.
Max knew she was sleeping with the man on Kennedy road. He had been walking home one day and caught them kissing behind the tool shed on the corner. He didn’t think anything of it, just kept his mouth shut and minded his own business.
She was sent from the city on August 17th 1914, besides her generous contribution to the country and her sociability. She had never shown anyone anything but love so Max was livid when he found even people who were supposed to be her friends turned on her. He helped her flee before everyone could get to her, her last words to him were, heavily accented but kind, “You’re a good man Max, thank God for you. You’ll see he’ll keep you from harm, he’ll save your soul.”
After a year passed and the war was still in full action men started volunteering their services and were sent overseas to fight for their King. Max’s friends all seemed too eager to go fight in his opinion, they would constantly talk about how girls loved soldiers and they would be bona fide men if they went. Max disagreed with them saying war wasn’t something to get keyed up over. He had no intention of volunteering himself but in 1916, when he was 23, the New Zealand government passed a law which made it compulsory for men between the ages 20 and 46 to go and fight.
Trucks came through the streets picking up men with their suitcases. Sobbing mothers and fathers that were too old to get involved stood outside their front doors waving them goodbye. Max put off getting involved for a long time but could no longer keep from getting drawn in. His mother was beside herself, as if she had had some idea that this would happen but could not deal with it. When it was time to leave Max had kissed her and told her he would be back as soon as the war was over. His father, being just over the enlisting age was able to stay home with her and that helped because Max knew Diana would not have been able to take care of herself if they both left.
He sat on the back of the truck next to one of his only friends that weren’t already out fighting and waved to his parents as cheerfully as possible. He had no idea what was ahead of him but he wasn’t in the least bit animated about it.
All the men were shipped off to military training camps in the country and then placed in groups according to their strength, stability, and knowledge. Max was immediately made a first private but as time went on and he showed continual flawlessness he was convinced to go to officers’ school.
Knowing he had no way out and he may as well do what he could, he went and was made Captain Maxwell Evans in charge of a platoon of twenty-five men.
He wrote to his mother and she informed him that his father had joined the Home Guard, a group of volunteers over fifty who looked after the neighbourhood and practiced military customs. Many found the group of men silly, practicing with wooden guns and fake weaponry but eventually the government gave into their pleas and gave those men truckloads of rifles, grenades and anything else that may help keep the country safe.
Max was sent to Italy and was nervous to find he would not only be the Captain to New Zealand armed forces but Italian and British also. Here he met First Private Michael Guerin a British soldier, and they became comrades quickly. Max tried to become a friend to all his men but Michael seemed to show most interest in being a laudable soldier to his commander and Max took care of him.
He wondered where his friend was now; hoping he was alive and they would cross paths once again.
“How are we feeling now?”
Max was pulled out of his half-conscious daze and arched his head to the side to see a smiling Nurse Parker looking down on him. He smiled back and felt his heart speed up; she certainly was a good reason to be happy about being wounded and in this ward. She would keep him entertained for hours; he would watch her float around the patients.
“I’m feeling fine,” He replied, “How about you?”
She laughed. “I’m not the one with a bullet in my leg, I’m better then fine.”
He watched her unwrap his leg and he spoke, his voice thick with emotion, “You’re much too beautiful to be a nurse.”
She glanced up from his would and caught his eyes. Her cheeks grew red. “Thank you,” she said.
When he was about to open his mouth and say something further Tess approached the bed and said in a teasing voice, “Liz Parker I think you are spending far too much time with my patient.”
Liz smiled. “Tess can you please give him the caster oil to drink?”
Max screwed his face up. “No thank you,” he said.
“You don’t have a choice,” Tess said forcefully. She held the glass to his lips and he swallowed the contents cautiously.
“Am I going to loose my leg?” He asked Liz.
She paused what she was doing and took his hands in hers. “Not if I can help it,” she replied comfortingly.
Tess looked at Liz angrily. “We’re not supposed to discuss that with the patients,” she said.
Max didn’t even notice Tess leave; he couldn’t tear his eyes away from Liz who was quickly capturing his heart with her beauty and compassion. He noticed a strand of hair fall over her forehead and he longed to sit up and brush it away for her. She looked up several times from his leg and smiled reassuringly at him and each time he was smile back, his breath getting caught in his throat. She was perfectly sculptured, divine through and through, with pearly white shaped teeth and glistening brown eyes. He’d never in his whole life come across such a fantastically exquisite woman.
“All done.” She bandaged his leg up again and patted his hand with her own. “Don’t worry,” she whispered leaning into him, “everything will be fine, I promise.”
…………..
“Liz, the doctors waiting for you, Maria did inform you that you’ve been assigned as his surgery assistant, no?”
“Yes Isabel, I’m on my way,” Liz replied. She walked down past the ward while fixing her nurse cap and headed into the surgery room where the Doctor was looking through some papers.
“Good evening Doctor,” she said. “How are you?”
“I’m very good, Miss Parker, thank you. How are you?” He looked up from his work and smiled. His name was Domenico Caracciolo and he was Italian.
“As well as can be expected, thank you,” she replied. “What are we looking at?”
“Maxwell Evans file,” he replied.
“Oh,” Liz said her eyes clouding over. Her stomach fluttered with thoughts of him and it worried her to think she might feel more for him then a nurse should feel for her patient.
“You’ve seen the wound, was there any uniform lodged inside the tissue?” He asked.
Liz blinked. “Yes, there was.” She bit her lip and tapped her fingers against her forearm. “There’s a smell when you first open the bandaging. There could be gangrene…”
Domenico did not hesitate before speaking, “We’ll have to amputate.”
Liz shook. Without thinking she spoke back sternly, “No that can not happen. He is too young to loose his leg.”
He stared at her face for several seconds before asking, “How do suggest we deal with this then?”
“In America they had some success with a treatment in the John Hopkins hospital. I have been aerating the wound every hour and—“
He cut her off, “I’m well aware of the workings at John Hopkins hospital. We’ll operate tomorrow.”
Liz nodded. Before leaving, Domenico touched her arm and asked her if she would join him for a little sigh seeing around the countryside.
Liz swallowed. “I’ll think about it,” she replied, not catching his eyes. She left the room hastily.
The next morning Max was lying in the operating room and Tess was about to put him to sleep when he spoke, “No, not yet. Where’s Liz?”
“That’s Nurse Parker to you,” Tess reminded him.
“I’m right here soldier, what’s wrong?” Liz leaned over him and stared into his eyes.
He swallowed. “I’m a little afraid I’m going to wake up with no leg.”
“You and me both partner,” she replied. She squeezed his hand lovingly. “I’ll see you when you wake up.”
“Doctor,” Max said. “Can you keep the bullet for me?”
The Doctor nodded and Liz smiled at Max before he was put to sleep.
After the bullet was removed the Doctor turned to Liz and said, “I don’t smell the odour you talked about?”
Liz smiled happily. She was so relieved.
“It would still be safest to amputate now.”
“Max doesn't care about being safe he just wants to keep his leg,” she argued.
“Second operations are a great luxury in times of war,” he reminded her. Liz looked at him pleadingly.
After a few minutes he relented, “But what would life be without these little luxuries?”
After Max stitched back up and sent back out to his bed Liz and Maria were cleaning up the operating room.
“He certainly is handsome,” Maria commented.
Liz nodded. He was more then handsome, he was more then beautiful. She sighed longingly. “I know, but it’s not very professional getting involved with patients.”
Maria frowned. “I’m talking about the doctor Liz.”
Liz blushed. “Oh, yeah…right. So was I.” She paused. “He asked me to go out with him.”
Maria seethed with jealousy. With a grunt she pretended to whack Liz over the head with a folded sheet. “I think I hate you,” she said.
BY LANA
Part Three
On the ward, the patients had been fed and bathed, and the beds freshly made as nightfall drew quickly in. Liz Parker was just as crisp and refreshed as the wards looked after spending a little prime time to her self earlier that day, thankfully able to recharge her flagging batteries. She rarely took time out for herself. Liz Parker was unselfish and caring and always ready to give to the point of self-sacrifice. She needed a break even if she refused to see it for herself. Her peers made her go, almost having to push her out of the doors. All the patients were rested and doing as well as could be expected. They’d contact her if they needed her. With much protest she accepted for even she could not deny that her heart was heavy and her bones weary.
She should have slept. She’d walked and wrote in her journal to past the time instead. She couldn’t sleep. She hadn’t found that magical element, that missing piece of the puzzle that would allow her to be claimed fully into peaceful slumber since she’d arrived. She believed that there wasn’t such a thing anymore and after all that she’d seen and her misunderstanding with Maria was taking its toll, there never would be again. She hated ill feeling and what hurt the most was that it was over a man, and a man that Liz had no interest in. A doctor indeed, Liz found it quite humorous until her conversation with Maria. Why was life getting so complicated these days?
As she wandered she wondered why she had never realized before how sunny the world could be when war was tearing it apart and leaving it’s ugly mark upon everything it touched? But for some reason today it glowed. Thankfully it had continued to be a relatively quiet day, the first real day they’d had in weeks which was gratefully received by all. It had been so very difficult to cope these last few weeks with the war raging with no sign of quitting. The heat had also been frightful, particularly today, making it harder to perform ‘miracles’ on the wounded where even the hardest of hearts would have had trouble. Nothing was seemly perfect, able to go to plan anymore. God moved in mysterious ways.
Now standing in front of the mirror, her night duties just about to start, she brushed her hair, tying it up into loose bun as she then tucked it under her nurse’s hat. She applied a little lip-balm and remembered back to when she’d spent hours in front of her dresser at home priming herself. There was no place for that here and little time, besides who would be taking any notice? With a shaky hand she thought of only one thing. Max, would he be looking? And that was her downfall, for Maxwell Evans was now a constant waking thought for her and for the life of her she couldn’t understand why? Was thinking about her too? The thought of him struck Liz with such force and clarity that she stood transfixed in front of the mirror. She couldn’t make him out? Nothing like this had ever happened to her before. What was wrong with her? She’d cared and nursed so many men that this unforgiving war had presented her and not once had she reacted this way, so passionately as she had about saving him and his leg. In fact not once in her whole life had she reacted to a man this way and it was unnerving because that’s all Max Evans was. Just a man, a normal man in need of nursing back to health. Just like any other who had come for her to care for, nothing more nothing less.
She swallowed down deep because in her heart of hearts, in that place she kept secret to all but her journal she knew that Maxwell Evans wasn’t like any other man. She suddenly pictured those soft brown eyes looking at her and it made her feel distinctly uncovered. A shiver spiked and travelled the entire length of her spine. Phwoar was the only word to describe Captain Maxwell Phillip Evans. He was the most gorgeous man she’d ever clapped eyes on. Six feet, plus tall if he was an inch, not that she’d ever seen him standing due to his injury, with a head of thick, jet black hair and eyes to die for. He was the picture of male perfection and against her better judgement little Liz Parker was finding it increasing difficult to concentrate on her work, on her purpose for being there. Breathing out deeply she was glad that the opportunity for her to wear fancy clothes wasn’t there, grateful that her appearance and make up was minimal. She was beginning to be unsure of herself and how she was around him and that just couldn’t happen. She wouldn’t let it be so. As she watched him from afar, amazed at now mild mannered and calm he was after all that was happening to him, her stomach flipped whenever he looked back at her, smiled at her with his perfect white teeth. To her astonishment she suddenly found herself getting the strangest feeling deep inside, like she had to be near him? It was too crazy to even contemplate logically. She was being foolish, possible cabin fever to blame being cooped up amongst such horror.
When she had finished getting herself ready she closed her eyes and offered up a fervent pray. She was just being foolish. She had to stop thinking about him in this way, whatever way that was? Everything finally getting to her after all this time, when she vowed that it never, ever would, her only reason. She couldn’t let it, she mustn’t let it because had a job to do nothing more, nothing less.
“Get a grip Liz,” her voice barely more than a whisper whilst heaving a deep sigh then opened them again, turning round - almost knocking over the girl standing behind her. “Isabel!” she said somewhat startled by her presence.
“You better get a grip because we need you to be on your toes,” Isabel looked sternly at her. Liz nodded. “I need you to be,” she then added, a smile gracing her features.
“I know, everything’s fine.”
“Are you sure?” Isabel could see she was troubled.
“Everything’s peachy, you know me.” And how Liz’s smile was bigger than hers.
“Yes I do.” And Isabel thanked her lucky stars that she did because Liz Parker was a nurse in a million. “I don’t know what I’d do without you Liz?”
"Oh stop it," Liz blanched, her voice becoming higher and louder.
Isabel placed her hands on her own shapely hips. “How was your day?”
“Good thank you.”
“Rested and ready to go?”
“Of course.” Liz didn’t let on that she hadn’t slept. She knew Isabel would be disappointed in her.
“Wait for me?” Isabel asked as she quickly took a timeout to readjust her face also.
Shaking her head in apparent amazement Liz looked on. "What's your secret?" Referring to Isabel’s ability to always look so neat and perfect no matter what without even a hair out of place.
“Whatever do you mean?”
“You always look so perfect.” Liz said openly. She felt more than a little plain standing beside Isabel.
“Don’t be ridiculous Elizabeth but sun, sea, excitement and the love of a good man always helps.” Both women looked at each other and suddenly giggled uncontrollably. Two out for four wasn’t too bad. Where they were it was never lacking in sunshine and the unexpected. The sea and love could wait. Eyeing herself up from several different angles Isabel was ready to go. “Shall we?” And Isabel motioned for Liz to go through the door before her. Liz mirrored her exact movements.
“No please after you. Age before beauty.” And both women chuckled because Isabel was only 28 days older than Liz.
*~*
For what seemed like the hundredth time that night, Max glanced over at Liz to take in her appearance. Her long sleeved, crisp white and grey uniform was nothing short of beautiful. The drape of the dress flattered her petite figure, and it set off her features to perfection.
Throughout the entire evening, day and night too, all the time to be precise he’d be watching her and he'd had trouble keeping his mind on his troubles and not on her. As he looked at her again, he realized how quiet she was tonight, appearing like she was in deep thought about something? Rather than shout out and question her he continued to watch from afar. It wasn’t his place to, not yet any road. He wandered what she was thinking of in that moment? Max inhaled deeply.
Tonight, he was going to talk to her and a very big part of him wished he could just get up and walk with her and take her away from the madness so they could just be together, alone together. However, he knew that wasn't possible, so he kept his mind focused on the here and now, determined to make the most of it.
*~*
“Nurse,” Was the weakened voice from across the ward. Looking up from her desk, leaving the comfort of her dimly lit desk and her half written letter Liz glided quickly and quietly across the floor.
“Yes Marcus, is everything okay?” She was crouching beside his bed in the corner.
Marcus Ferguson was lying flat on his tummy with his palms resting at either side of his head, the only position available and comfortable for him, what with his back so severely burnt in the blaze. Liz could see why the discomfort, her eyes travelled down as his freshly bandaged injuries were already weeping with blood and infection. She gently touched one his hands, one of the few places untouched by the flames. “Okay Marcus, I’ll just go and get some more bandages and medication. I’ll be right back.” Her tones were soothing and instantly calmed his pounding heart. He gently closed his eyes and smiled weakly.
At only twenty Marcus was so afraid and hated being unable to do the simplest of things such as rolling over, sitting up. The back of his arms, legs and buttocks were so very painfully, his back being the worst. Even the thick blonde hair on the back of his head had been scorched away. Yet never once did he whine or complain. It was miracle that he’d made it this far. The doctors didn’t hold out much hope for him surviving through the night, but every morning he would continue to astound them as they found him alive and relatively well.
“O-Okay- then- then would you- read to me a- again?” He was finding it difficult to talk the pain was so great. Liz’s heart was over whelmed at his strength and determination and regretted every single moan and groan she’d ever uttered in her life. She squeezed his hand just a little more, afraid that she might hurt him.
“Of course I will, just you try and stop me,” And she quickly turned to gather up what was needed not noticing that someone was watching and listening the whole time as Max continued to watch Marcus with the angel working at his bedside.
*~*
With no interruptions Liz had tended to Marcus’ wounds with the minimal of fuss. She tried her hardest to work quickly, desperate not to hurt Marcus more than she had to, putting herself into awkward and painful positions in order to complete the task in hand. Marcus was so strong and hardly murmured as she bathed and redressed him.
Reaching for his favourite book she rested her aching bones in the chair beside him and was about to start as promised, but it had all been too much for the young soldier as he gently fell into slumber, the much needed pain relief kicking in. Gently stroking his cheek Liz sat and watched over him until she was sure that he was well and truly at peace then rose to her feet. Her back and knees were aching from her nursing of Marcus and she winced while returning back to her station.
Out the corner for her eye she saw Max moving awkwardly in his bed, like he was in pain. His leg not going him any favours. She hated this pointless war and what price it left upon the wounded. Her heart was heavy, her body weary but she by his bedside in seconds. “Max!” Max was trying to reach for a glass of water on the bedside table, leaning over just a little too far, about to fall. She was there to catch him.
“Easy Max, go steady,” She clasped tightly onto his broad shoulders as he encircled a strong, powerful arm suddenly about her waist and in that moment something strange happened. It was like just by him holding onto her he took all her aches and pains away. How could that be? She instantly shook off that stupid notion and stiffened.
“You're supposed to be resting! What on earth were you thinking of?” she gently scolded. “You know if you need anything then you only have to ask, that’s why I’m here.” And she gently eased him back down onto the bed, his arm still encircling her waist. Max said nothing.
Liz found it difficult to judge his mood held deep within his dark smouldering eyes. She’d been finding it harder and harder of late. A sensuous lock of hair fell across his brow and she almost felt herself yearning to stroke it back into place. What was she thinking? This situation was getting really strange and frightening for her. There was something unnerving in the way that he looked at her.
“I know,” His voice tentative. He was close now, his warm breath against her hair. “But you looked like you needed a break and I didn’t want to disturb you,” he added quietly failing dismally to conceal the pain that was raging through him. She was clearly taken aback by the comment. What did he mean? Had he been watching her? Goosebumps covered and rippled up her spine, seemingly covering her entire body at the mere thought of him watching her. This was getting crazy. She consciously shook the feeling off once more.
“Never mind what you think I need, I know what you need so in future just call me and I’ll do whatever it is you want okay?” Max felt like she was telling him off even when her tone never wavered. The last thing he wanted to do was to add to her worries and be more of a burden to her. Max felt utterly foolish when she was completely right of course. He couldn’t feel any worse. His eyes swept towards hers in obvious relief and she flashed him a smile, causing a surge of happiness to flood through him. Inside he was so very happy to have her close by him again, was that selfish of him when so many needed her tender loving care also? The ward remained quiet and still.
An untimely silence suddenly fell between them as Liz gently let her arms slip away from him in order to past him the glass of water. She almost betrayed herself by wanting to gasp at the loss she felt when his warm arm fell away from her waist. Was it getting hot in there or was that just her? Her lips formed a partial grin as she dangled the glass from her fingers and gently placed in his grasp when he held out his hand for it. "Here," she said smiling.
"Thank you," he was the reply. Max felt the bolt of electricity pass from her into him as their fingertips lightly brushed in the exchange and his eyes flashed up towards her face. Had she felt it too? A painful silence engulfed them.
"You’re welcome," she added quietly. Her face continued to tell him nothing if she was reeling from their contact before. Max was fighting to control his emotions.
She should have gone from his side at that moment, she knew that but she didn’t. She couldn’t, her feet seemly nailed to the floor. His eyes were intoxicating. Max gulped in the liquid so fast Liz thought he’d choke. “Slowly Max,” Her voice laced with concern, almost breathless. She wished she’d found the time to sleep earlier because she was beginning to feel a little giddy. Max finished gulping down the water in silence. He was unable to resist stealing occasional glances at his carer.
After a few minutes, he felt the desire - no - the over whelming need, to have her in his arms. Her body dangerously near his, trying desperately to say with actions what he couldn't say with words as she took the glass back from him. As her fingertips brushed over his again, he felt his heartbeat tumble over itself and he offered her a small smile. He reached for her, stopping mid flow. This wasn’t the time what was he thinking?
“You’re very good with us,” Max said softly, suddenly getting bolder. The pain almost bearable now she was there by his side.
“It’s my job,” There was a sparkle of humour in her eyes. Max’s smile grew at hearing her understatement,
“It’s more than that and I’m eternally grateful to you Elizabeth Parker.”
She smiled an uneasy smile and whispered, "Oh," Max could tell, though, that she was still uncertain of what he was saying was true.
“I really mean it!” Max added confidently. Liz’s smile grew to fill up her face and lit up the darkened room.
“Why thank you Maxwell Evans,” and she playfully curtsed, gently clasping at the skirt of her uniform. Their eyes locked in an eternal moment. Liz hadn’t a clue why she did that or why she was feeling so much at ease all of a sudden? An awkward silence filled the cool, night air, seemingly lasting for a long while until Liz finally broke it.
“Well… if that will be all then I'm going to make certain that you lie back and rest." She mildly threatened. She stepped closer towards the bed and shifted one of the many pillows against his back. Her eyes followed his outline down the bed, stopping at his heavily bandaged leg. Her stomach turned over and the near loss he’d almost encountered. No man should lose a leg if it could be saved. “How’s the leg?” She gently fluffed up the deep piled of pillows that surrounded it.
“Okay, thanks to you,” and he went to sit up.
“Now, lie back and relax,” she encouraged. She didn’t handle praise too well, especially coming from him. Liz bent to place her hands on his shoulders and applied light pressure as she reclined him back down. The look in his eyes was one of exasperation, but it quickly changed as he complied and shifted to find a comfortable position. Liz sighed, her warm breath caressing the skin on Max's neck, sending shivers down his spine as she lent across him. As she adjusted the pillows under Max's head, she was blissfully unaware that Max was finding it hard to function, nothing like this had ever happened to him before. Was there no way to let her know how he felt without spelling it out tom her? How could he, besides what was it he felt? How could they ever be anyway? Now, in the cold light of their newfound closeness and the ward being so quiet it felt like, for the very first time that they were completely alone. All Max knew was that he wanted to talk to her, be with her and he didn't know how to let her know or even if he was ready to do so? Did he have to find and say the words what failed to come? Could he dare tell the truth, a truth that even he was yet to understand properly? He wanted to shout it out but how could he? To Liz he looked like he was going to say something again, but changed his mind, obviously realizing how futile it was to argue with her.
"Yes, ma'am!" was his boyish reply. She smiled when she realized he was learning that it wasn't wise to cross her. His voice showed signs of the strain his recent activity had placed upon his body.
“Rest now,” she said sternly.
"You know, you really would make a very good sergeant." For a moment, Max stared, and Liz saw a flash of mischief enter his eyes. It disappeared as fast as it had appeared, and she figured it was her imagination. She raised her eyebrows in question.
“Oh really?” Max smile grew. Liz had never seen anything as lovely as his smile. She had leave. Now. “So?” Her sugary voice from broke the stillness and quiet of the night and into his pleasant reverie. He looked blankly at her. “Anything more I can do for you Max?” A million wicked lusty thoughts suddenly bombarded Liz’s brains in the next second. Her skin prickled, like fire. Where the hell did they come from? It was getting hotter in there. Instead of telling him what she really wanted to say, she forced herself to put distance between them and tried putting up an emotional barrier.
She had too because was plain to even she, that she was falling in love with Max Evans. Who wouldn’t? How she knew she was going crazy and in desperate need of sleep. Liz felt her knees knock and her teeth chatter in sudden realization. She was just over tired that’s all. Nothing more. Nothing less and she was far from being ‘in anything’ with Maxwell Evans. She offered him a fleeting chance to reply, before turning on her heels to go back to her desk.
"Yes," Max said with a voice as smooth as honey. She came to a halt instantly, afraid of what was coming next?
"Yes what?” She mumbled.
“There is something else you can do for me,” he sat up as she stepped back in closer towards him.
“And what’s that?” She was certain he could hear her heart beat; it was pounding so fast.
“Tell about yourself?" She smiled a confused smile at him.
“What do you want to know?” She answered without the thought of refusing him, quickly coming to her senses. “Look Max you need your rest-,”
“I’m not sleepy. I just wanted to talk, that’s all if that’s okay with you?” It was said slightly forcefully. His leg was uncontrollably throbbing but there wasn’t a herd of wild horses that would make him tell because she’d leave to get someone or be distracted. “Please?”
She nodded. How could she refuse him with a face like that? Silence reined once more and Max was suddenly robbed of speech. “Is, is there anything you want to ask me? That you want to know about me?” He babbled.
“I don’t want to know anything, you’re the one who wanted to talk remember?” her tone was never hostile but Max could sense that she was uncomfortable. He regarded her intently, again unable to say just what was on his mind.
"Well... god, I’m sorry for making you feel uncomfortable Liz I never wanted that to happen." Her face was unreadable as she absorbed his meaning. Finally she nodded slowly, as if not quite sure of how to respond? Instead of continuing the conversation, he nodded as well. Once again there was an uncomfortable, suffocating silence.
"Uh…it doesn’t matter… well… thank you for asking me but I better get back to writing my letter,” she stammered, embarrassed to be reminded of the ridiculous
mess she was making, and she turned to leave. Reluctantly, Max pulled further back from her just enough to ease the increasing ache that had formed deep within his belly since her coming over to him. He was amazed that he'd ever been attracted to anyone like he was to her, Liz's classic beauty made anyone that had ever held his eyes, look like some kind of cheap call girl or something? He felt strangely warm and happy, deeply contented just to breathing in the same air as Liz Parker.
“May I be so bold as to ask who is the letter to?” he returned, eyes twinkling.
“Excuse me?” She was more than taken by his question when nurses and patients interaction should be kept to a minimal. She was completely dumbfounded at what to say and how to handle the pending situation? Max witnessed the change in her.
“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to pry-,” he stumbled. He just didn’t want her to go so soon.
“It’s okay Max, it was just a letter back home. That’s all.” Max couldn’t help but notice the sadness held deep within her eyes.
“You miss it don’t you?”
“Yes, very much. Don’t you miss your family back home in…?”
“New Zealand,” Max helped her out.
“New Zealand it must be so beautiful there?” Liz said wistfully.
“Yes it is… but I’ve seen things far more so,” She slowly lifted up her head to meet his glace. Her heart fluttered as their eyes locked again once more. She missed her home, her family and her friends so very much it made her weak. She’d lay awake some nights just thinking about home and how her life used to be. She wished she could say that she’d give anything for the chance to go back to them, that might have been true before but hand on heart she could not now because the truth be known since Captain Maxwell Phillip Evans had arrived she hadn’t thought about home quite so much. Truth be known she didn’t want to leave, besides her work here was too important and she was needed here in more ways than one. The thought of not wanting to leave because of Max never entered her mind.
“Oh really?”
“Yes,” Again he gave her one-worded answers. Max was a man of very few words. There was that awkward silence again. “Please sit and talk with me Liz?” He held his breath, waiting for her answer. She glanced at her watch and cocked an eyebrow, shrugging elegantly. What harm could it do?
"Sure, if you want to, why not? The evening's still young. And alls well." Oh if only that were true as Liz parker had never felt so utterly out of control in her life. He grinned in relief. For a moment, he'd been afraid she was going to say no.
“Thankfully,” Max was finding it hard to make coherent sentences. He hated everything about this war and he had no idea what to say next as it was up to Liz to say something.
“I miss home so much actually, especially now because it’s at this time that we have the festive of light.” Liz said excitedly.
“What’s that?” He was mesmerized by everything about her and her life. Max remained speechless, unable to speak transfixed by her. Listening only to her, watching only her.
Liz was taken back to another time and place as she remembered how it all went. She relayed to Max how once a year the whole town would get together for a massive party, where everyone would make a contribution and the fields, streets and buildings were littered with lights and candles. There was much eating and drinking to be had and dancing. It was wonderful. Liz’s eyes sparked as she talked of the latter and of Daniel.
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
“Oh how we danced and danced. We had so much fun that night.” She sighed deeply.
Max raised his eyebrows somewhat shocked by the mere name of another man on Liz’s lips.
“Oh that’s sounds really- interesting,” He couldn’t hide his disappointment, taking what she had said literately. Who was this Daniel? A friend? A lover? Max suddenly felt his cheeks heat with concern. Liz could feel a change in Max as she instantly read what he was thinking by the bewildered look on his face and in that moment she had this overwhelming desire to put him straight.
“Actually, we're just…friends. I mean…Daniel Williams and I. We grew up together. We're not, um… I don't hold his attentions." She blushed, gesturing vaguely at Max. She felt stupid at her clumsiness. Why was she explaining herself? She coughed ever so lightly.
Take care all. Bi.