Meet Me in the Gray

One

One

Union Army Hospital, Tennessee

July 18, 1864

Sweat beaded at Grace Sinclair's temple and trickled inelegantly along the side of her face. Elegance... Pah! The stifling August heat, and the overwhelming stench of the makeshift hospital had long since eclipsed any semblance, or even memory, of elegance. It seemed an eternity, another lifetime, since she'd donned fine silks and—

The door leading to the upstairs operating theater flew open, crashing against the wall with such force Grace jumped and dropped the woven basket filled with linen.

"I can't do it anymore!" Sarah Walters huffed into the hall in a flurry of dark skirts. Blood smeared her white apron. "I will not assist Dr. Connor's again. The man is insufferable."

"Nurse Walters!" Dr. Connors bellowed from within the operating theater. "Where the hell do you think you're going?"

"Away from you, and your godforsaken Irish temper," Sarah spat. She turned to Grace. "I'm sorry, Nurse Sinclair, but I am through with that man. I will resign my position before I go back into that room."

Grace licked her lips and glanced nervously toward the door. "That won't be necessary, Sarah." Grace gave the other woman's arm a quick squeeze. "Take these linens to stock the wards. I'll assist Dr. Connors."

Sarah scoffed. "Good luck."

"Nurse Walters!" Connors barked. "Do you wish for the patient to bleed to death in your absence?"

"That's unlikely," Sarah hollered back. "He has a tourniquet on his thigh."

"Enough, Sarah," Grace ordered with calm, quiet authority. "Go."

Cheeks blazing with rage, Sarah glared at the door. Finally, she harrumphed and hefted the linen basket into her arms. "Good luck," she muttered, and stomped down the hall.

A pit settled in Grace's stomach, but there was nothing for it, she'd have to take over for the other nurse. Steeling her resolve, she squared her shoulders, and marched into the room. "How may I be of assistance, Doctor?"

Connors briefly glanced up from the mangled limb he was amputating. "Get a towel, lass. I can't bloody see with all this sweat in my eyes."

Grace nodded and strode efficiently across the room. She quickly located a clean, dry towel and mopped his brow with the folded edge. She glanced at the pile of discarded rags on the floor beside them. No doubt Sarah had been responsible for wiping his brow as well.

"The light!" Dr. Connors snapped. "How am I supposed to operate without sufficient light?"