Wedded to War by Jocelyn Green Page B

been without the leadership of a father for quite some time, and you’ve never been subject to a husband. I understand how this is new to you. But if you want to be accepted as a nurse, you will do as the doctor says and not ask questions. Asking questions implies that you do not trust the doctor’s decisions, his diagnosis, or his treatment. It implies that you could do it better. That he is incompetent. That’s grounds for dismissal.”
    “But how can they do that if I’m given an assignment through Miss Dix?”
    “Dorothea Dix is not taken seriously by most men in the army. She has power only to recommend, not to enforce. In other words, she might send you to a hospital for placement, but if the surgeon finds a reason to fire you—or fabricates one—out you’ll go. He’s still in charge.”
    Charlotte felt her anger beginning to boil to the surface and fought to retain control of her voice. “What, then, Dr. Markoe, do you suggest Ido?”
    His mouth tipped up in a smile that didn’t quite reach his eyes. “No need to be upset with me, Miss Waverly. I’m just giving you a bit of free advice. You seem to believe that being in this program means you’re ready to take charge and do things better. If you don’t drop that strong-minded, woman-of-reform attitude, no doctor, and I mean
not one
, will want to work with you. You haven’t proven anything yet, and what’s more, every step of the way you’ll be on the edge of losing what you’vegained. If you don’t like the sound of that, you might as well go home now.”
    She remembered the words Caleb spoke to her at the dance.
What if your stepping out of formation was actually a step in the right direction?
    Even if Caleb had been right, she suspected there was truth to what Dr. Markoe said, as well. All nursing candidates had, indeed, stepped out of formation the moment they had applied for the training. But if they were to get much further in this male domain, they would have to tread lightly and watch their step.
    And Charlotte would have to watch her tongue.

Sunday, June 2, 1861
     
    P hineas Hastings couldn’t help humming to himself as his carriage rumbled along Fifth Avenue toward the Waverlys’ four-story brownstone on Sixteenth Street. A dozen crimson roses lay on the red leather bench next to him, releasing their sweet fragrance with every jolt and bump over the cobblestones. He had had his doubts about courting Charlotte before, but today his mind was made up. She was beautiful, refined, wealthy, real “upper crust.” She was everything he needed.
    Phineas pulled his gold watch from his vest pocket and checked the time. Three forty-five. Perfect. Just enough time to pick up Charlotte and get to Central Park for the most popular carriage-riding hour.
    He rubbed his thumb over the inscription on the watch’s back.
P.J.H.
His father’s initials, as well as his own. It was his only link to his father since he’d gone to California during the gold rush of 1849. It was supposed to be pawned if Phineas and his mother ever needed moneywhile his father was gone, but neither Phineas nor his mother could part with it, even when they were getting by on flour and water. Even though his father had never come back, they survived without him. Phineas went from boy to man overnight when he realized it was up to him to take care of himself and his mother. He had done it, too.
    His mother had been ready to move into the poorhouse, but Phineas had refused.
    “I can take care you,” he’d told her.
    And she laughed. “Go on, now! You’re just a boy, you couldn’t possibly!”
    But he had. Though it meant working, selling, borrowing, and begging, he had proven her wrong. They had survived, and now they thrived. Thank God that old life was behind them.
    Phineas slipped the watch back into his pocket and patted it. His own mother may not have believed in him, but Charlotte did, and that was all that mattered now. A wife on his arm was the only hole he had to