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La Belle Christiane

Copyrigth 2011 by Lyn Cote

All rights reserved

Chapter Seven Scene 1

Slowly Christiane became aware of herself in the dim light around her. She was warm. At first it was enough just to feel the warmth. Then the fuzziness in her head cleared and she could see that she was lying on a pallet by a fire. She felt the pain then, a burning in her right thigh. She could hear the sound of a knife, chopping on a board. She willed herself to sit up, but she could manage only a slight quiver. She tried to speak, but a dry croaking was all that sounded.

“Emma, see if she’s awake,” a hearty voice commanded.

A large form loomed over Christiane. “She’s awake, Aunt,” an odd, muffled female voice labored to be heard.

Christiane blinked, trying to bring the form into focus.

“Well, get her a dipper of water, Emma. Do I have to tell you everything?”

The form neared and Christiane was able to bring her into focus that it was a very overweight, young woman. She jerked Christiane’s head up and spilled a dipper of water into and around her mouth. Christiane coughed.

“Don’t choke her!” The older woman bustled over, looming suddenly above Christiane. “Go back to your dicing.” Then kneeling, she raised Christiane’s head gently and carefully put the dipper to Christiane’s lips. “I’m Mrs. Hardy. There now. Just sip the water. That’s it. We were wondering when you would come back to us.” The woman was large with a florid face and fly-away gray hair, showing around her white cap.

“What happened?” Christiane managed to whisper.

“What? Don’t you remember?” The loud woman’s voice hurt Christiane’s ears. She closed her eyes and shook her head.

The woman’s words poured forth, “Well, they told us you was wounded by a Hessian deserter. And it wouldn’t be decent to put a woman in hospital with all those men. Not proper at all. The General sent word himself that you wished you to be brought here to Jakob Arnold’s Tavern,  the General’s headquarters in Morristown. And I agreed. I’m the cook here at Arnold’s. Have been for years.”

The voice beat against her, but Christiane clung to consciousness. I must know where I am. Where is Michael? And Tildy? Jakob?

“There was no other room for you in the Tavern, so I said bring her to my kitchen out behind the inn. Mr. Arnold agreed. Better you stay here in my kitchen than in a hospital–or in a tent on the Green. Imagine men and their families living out in tents, barns or just-made cabins in January. I never did think I’d live to see anything like this right here in Morristown.”

Christiane’s head swirled with all the words. Faces flickered in her mind and the memory of bone-deep cold and icy terror that drenched her all over again.

Mrs. Hardy raised her voice, giving more instructions. “Emma, put a piece of bread in a bowl and add some milk and sugar. We better get some food into her while we can.” The woman deftly propped Christiane up with pillows. “Now, Emma, I want you to sit here and spoon this bread down her careful. I don’t want to find half of it on her chin and gown when I get back. The doctor said he wanted to see her as soon as she wakened.”

Christiane evaded the spoon and whispered, “Jakob?”

“Jakob?” Mrs. Hardy stopped and cocked her head. “That the name of the soldier that keeps stopping at the door to ask about her?” she asked Emma. “That your husband?”

Christiane nodded, her panic easing. Jakob wasn’t far then.

“Well, he’ll be back soon I reckon.” Then the woman hurried out the door.

Emma methodically and sullenly shoved the milk toast into Christiane’s mouth, spoonful by spoonful. At this close range Christiane was able to study Emma in spite of the dimness of the light. The most startling thing about the young woman was that the lower half of her face was covered by a thick veil. Christiane wondered why, but could not seem to think. Of course, she remebered now that she’d burned with fever. That probably explained it. Wearily she hoped Jakob would come back soon and explain everything.

Christiane closed her eyes briefly. The spoon stopped and Emma stood up. “More,” Christiane whispered. Emma sat down and once more the spoon scraped the bowl till it was empty. Then she left without a word and soon Christiane heard again the rhythmic meeting of a knife and board.

Several minutes later the energetic Mrs. Hardy swept into the kitchen with an elderly man in her wake. “She’s over here, Dr. Craik. Emma, did she finish the milk toast?”

“Yes, ma’am.” The girl’s words, indistinct and raspy, were muffled by the thick veil.

“Did she want more?” the woman demanded.

“I’m fine, Mrs. Hardy,” Christiane said, though the effort of speaking loud enough to be heard, drained her.

“Ma’am,” the doctor addressed Christiane formally. “I am glad to see that you have finally regained yourself.” He went down on one knee beside her pallet. “For two days you’ve slept.”                Christiane shook her head slightly in denial.

“Yes, two days. But after your surgery–”

“Surgery?” Christiane whispered.

“She don’t remember what happened,” Mrs. Hardy said from her station on the other side of Christiane’s pallet.

“You were bayoneted twice in your right thigh. The bone was only grazed once, not fractured. I merely had to close the wounds and bleed you. Thanks to Mrs. Hardy’s excellent nursing, it seems that your condition is improving.”

Christiane forced herself to speak, make the effort necessary. “I am very grateful–to both of you.” She panted with the effort.

“Mrs. Hardy, if you would help me, I would like to examine the wounds.” The doctor folded back the blankets which covered her.

Christiane was certain that the two were being as careful as they could be, but each touch and movement caused her searing pain. Tears welled in her eyes and she bit her lower lip to keep from crying out.

“So sorry,” the doctor murmured soothingly. Finally the inspection and fresh bandaging were done, but they had left Christiane trembling and slightly nauseated.

“Jakob?” Christiane asked, pleading for him.

“Her husband–she wants to see him,” Mrs Hardy explained.

“Oh, yes, yes,” the doctor said distractedly. He turned away abruptly. “I shall see you on the morrow.” He left, closing the door behind him against the rush of cold air.

“He didn’t even guess, did he, Emma?” Mrs Hardy chuckled. Emma replied with a kind of pleased grunt. “Pay no mind to his soft soap, he thinks it’s all his doctoring that saved you,” the woman confided cheerfully to Christiane. “But Emma and me, we poulticed your leg and got the poison out. Your leg would have gone septic if not for those poultices. My grandma give me the receipt for them herself.” Mrs Hardy chuckled again. “He did the stitchin’, but we did the doctorin’.”

Christiane tried to smile her appreciation, but almost immediately she began to doze as her exhaustion overtook her again.

Finally the long January afternoon was spent and the supper dishes were being washed. Christiane, though still in pain, was fed and warm.

A knock came at the door. Christiane’s heart leapt. Oh, please let it be Jakob. The veiled and ponderous Emma answered the door and then a man was beside her. Even before he reached her in the dimness, she knew it was not Jakob.

“Christiane,” Tom said softly. “I’m so glad to see you awake. We were so worried.”

Christiane voiced the only reason she could think for Jakob’s not coming. “Tom, is Jakob on sentry duty?”

Tom ignored her question. “The Mains left this morning. Tildy was still ailing and the sergeant wanted to get her to better quarters for the winter. They hated to leave you and his enlistment was not really up yet, but they had to get back to Boston.” Tom continued nervously, “And, Christiane, I hope you don’t mind, but I let them take Nancy. Tildy couldn’t walk, you know. And you two being such friends….”

“Jakob?”

A terrible silence met her query.

“Is Jakob hurt?”

A more terrible silence ensued.

“Oh, Christiane,” Tom managed to say and then tears overtook him. He lowered his face to hide them.

And then she knew. She closed her eyes and an icy sensation began to spread through her body. Finally after several minutes, Tom was able to speak again. “Oh, Christiane,” he said wretchedly.

“When?” she whispered.

“He fell at Princeton. The day you went after little Michael.”  Tom wiped his tears on the back of his sleeve.

“How?”

“He didn’t suffer, Christiane.”

“How?”

“A bullet in the head. He never knew any pain. He was gone before I could get to him.”

On the hearth a log broke and shattered in the flames.

“Don’t worry, Christiane. I’ll look after you now. I brought you to the General, so you would get good care.”

To Christiane he sounded like a child comforting his mother. Nothing could ever make everything right again. The icy feeling paralyzed her. She lay still, feigning sleep. At last he bent over her and placed a gentle touch on her forehead.  She wanted to shy away but remained frozen.

“She’s widowed then?” Mrs. Hardy asked softly.

“Yes.” Tom audibly choked back his own grief.

“That’s not good. She’s been asking for him all day.”

Tom nodded. “Thank you, ma’am. Good night.” He let in cold air as he went.

Mrs. Hardy stood over Christiane. Christiane remained silent with her eyes closed till the woman moved away. Then tears slid silently down the sides of her face. I am lost. Jakob, my Jakob.

So Christiane must face another loss. As you can see, this novel follows more the pattern of Gone With the Wind. It follows Christiane through her life until she finds what she has been searching for.  What is her heart’s desire?

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