Authors: Gilbert Morris
“I guess you’re right,” he said, although he didn’t sound very convinced.
Hilda came into the room, and soon the two started
working their way through the wards together, checking wounds and watching for signs of complications such as infection, which if not caught immediately could take a soldier’s life quickly. Gabby noticed that Hilda was even more quiet than usual. She commented on her friend’s mood when they finally took a break for tea.
“I must tell you something about your friend Betje,” Hilda told her.
“Betje! What is it, Hilda?”
“She’s hiding a young couple in her apartment. They’re Jews.” Hilda’s eyes glinted, and her lips drew tight with fear. “If the Germans find them there, Betje will be sent to a concentration camp or even shot.”
Gabby’s thoughts were a whirlwind at the news. “I’ll go see her as soon as I get off work.”
“She must be more careful,” Hilda said. “These Nazis are beasts. They would kill her like a fly!”
****
As soon as she entered the apartment, Gabby knew that Hilda had told her the truth. A young couple was standing in the middle of the room, their faces tense, watching her anxiously.
“This is Abraham Stein and his wife, Sarah,” Betje said, “and this is my good friend Dr. Gabrielle Winslow.”
“I’m glad to know you,” Gabby said. She made herself smile, for she didn’t want to make the couple any more nervous than they already were. “Don’t worry,” she said, “I’m safe enough.” She saw relief wash over the face of the woman, who was no more than twenty-five.
“We’re a little bit cautious here, Doctor,” Abraham said.
“That’s good.” She turned to Betje. “You don’t need me to tell you to be careful. You know what would happen if you were found out.”
Betje’s brother had been killed in the German invasion. A hard bitterness reflected in her eyes, and she was far more
sober than her usual smiling self. “I’ve read the notices. Anyone concealing Jews will be shot. The swine!”
“Do you have any plans for getting them out of Holland?”
“Yes. They’ll be leaving tonight well after dark. I have a friend with a boat who will be taking them out.”
Gabby resisted the impulse to tell her again to use caution. “Is there anything I can do?”
“You’d better stay out of this, Gabby,” Betje said. “It’s too dangerous. If they think you’re involved, you could lose—”
Gabby cut her off. “It’s as dangerous for you as it is for me.”
Betje simply shook her head, and after bidding the three good-bye, Gabby left the small apartment. She got into her car and drove to her great-aunt’s house.
Matilda greeted her, then said, “Dorcas has had a bad day. Maybe there’s something in your black bag that can help her.”
“I’ll see what I can do,” Gabby said, but she knew there was no medicine for the ailment her great-aunt had. She was simply getting old. Still, there might be something she could do to help her feel more comfortable. Entering Dorcas’s bedroom, she found the old woman sitting in a rocker reading her Bible.
Dorcas looked up. “So you remembered your grandmother.”
“I’m sorry I didn’t get by yesterday. I worked until very late.” She leaned over to kiss her cheek and then sat in the other chair. She told her about some of her patients at the hospital, for Dorcas found it interesting, as well as an inspiration, to pray for those who were suffering worse than she was.
Gabby told her about Hans Dent and how the man was afraid his fiancée wouldn’t want to marry him now that he had lost a leg.
“If the woman loves him, one leg more or less won’t make any difference.”
Gabby laughed and leaned forward, patting Dorcas on the knee. “That’s what I love about you, Grandmother. Everything’s either black or white. No gray areas.”
“There are too many gray areas, if you ask me. Now, tell me about that young man with a shoulder injury you mentioned the other day. How is he doing?”
Gabby stayed until Dorcas started looking weary and then said, “No argument, now. I’m going to get you ready for bed, and I’ve got some tonic I want you to take. It will help you feel better.”
“I don’t need a tonic.”
“You mind the doctor.”
As soon as she had her great-aunt safely tucked in bed, she asked, “Have you heard from Dalton and Liza?”
“No, I think the Germans are holding up all the mail. They were always so regular in writing.”
Privately Gabby agreed, but she said only, “Have you thought about what we talked about the day before yesterday?”
“I’m not coming to live in your house.” Dorcas looked up at Gabby defiantly. “I will die in this house, as is proper.”
“You’re a long way from that.” She leaned over and kissed the withered cheek. “I’ll be by to see you tomorrow. I’ll bring you something good to eat.”
“Good night, love,” Dorcas said. She closed her eyes, and her breathing quickly grew deep and slow.
Gabby left the room and stopped in the kitchen to speak to the housekeeper. “She’s asleep, Matilda. I’ll stop by tomorrow, but meanwhile”—she rummaged in her bag and pulled out a bottle—“put a teaspoon of this in a glass of water and have her drink it in the morning and then do it again in the afternoon.”
“Yes, that I will do.”
As she left her great-aunt’s house, a weight seemed to fall on Gabby’s shoulders. She drove home in the darkness, praying that God would give Dorcas many more years of life, but in all truth, she was worried about the old woman.
****
Time passed quickly for Gabby. Besides working hard at the hospital and making her daily visits with Dorcas, she also provided medical care for the children at the orphanage twice a week. Sometimes she grew so tired she could hardly stay awake. The casualties of war had been heavy, and the hospital was filled with wounded men in addition to the usual load of patients.
When she arrived at the orphanage on Monday, Gabby stopped by Deman van der Klei’s office to greet him before going to the infirmary. The director of the orphanage was on his phone, clearly unhappy over something. When he hung up, he ran his hands through his thick blond hair and shook his head. “I don’t know where all this is heading, Dr. Winslow.” The Germans had cut back on the supplies necessary to keep the orphanage running.
“God will prevail. Don’t worry.”
She sat down for a few minutes and let him blow off some steam before seeing to her duties.
At three o’clock that same afternoon, Gabby was sitting in her small office at the hospital. It was hot, and she was soaked with perspiration and longed for a long hot bath. She responded to a knock on the door and smiled as her pastor entered. “Good afternoon, Karel,” she said and then motioned him to sit down. He drew a chair up close to her desk, and she asked, “Would you have some tea? Coffee, perhaps?”
“Nothing for me, thank you. How are you? You look tired.”
“So do you. Everybody looks tired these days.”
The two sat there talking for a time. Karel Citroen came to the hospital almost every day to visit the wounded. The church had grown under his leadership, and there were a great many older people he visited faithfully as well. Gabrielle had come to admire this man a great deal. He was, in her judgment, one of the finest ministers she had ever known. He was a scholarly man, yet his sermons were not dull. He had a sparkling wit that kept his congregation alert, and
besides this, he was a fine musician, playing both piano and violin expertly.
Gabby had taken part in a number of church activities, and the two had worked long hours on various projects, often late at night. She had wondered why he had never married, for she knew that many of the women in the village had their eye on him.
During a lull in the conversation, Gabby noted that Karel seemed a little on edge. “Is anything wrong, Karel?”
“I’m not sure.”
“That’s odd. Are you sick? Something troubling you physically?”
“No, it’s a matter of the heart.”
Gabby blinked with surprise. “Of the heart? What do you mean?”
He faced her squarely and took a deep breath. Then he said calmly, “You must have noticed that I’ve come to care for you, Gabrielle.” He always called her Gabrielle, disliking the shortened form of her name.
He had spoken in such an ordinary tone that Gabby thought she might have misunderstood him. “Care for me?” she echoed. “What do you mean?”
“What does a man mean when he says he cares for a woman? I love you. I’m not romantic, but I guess I don’t need to tell you that.”
She could not restrain a smile. “Well, you certainly aren’t romantic. Haven’t you ever seen a movie? You’re supposed to do more than simply barge in and say you care for me.”
Karel smiled. “You’d see through me in a moment if I tried singing love songs and writing poetry. I admire and respect you more than any woman I’ve ever known.” He reached over the desk and took her hand and kissed it, something he had never done before. “No, I’m not romantic, but if you could come to care for me, and we could be married, I think you might teach me a little more.”
“But I don’t love you, Karel.”
His eyes sparkled. “You’ll love me after we’ve been married awhile. I’m very lovable.”
Despite his light manner and his unorthodox approach, she knew Karel was very serious. He often acted lighthearted to help people get through difficult situations. It was as if he were afraid to let himself go emotionally. She desperately wanted to find some way to respond in a way that would not hurt him. She was trying to form an answer when suddenly the door flew open and Hilda burst in. “Doctor! You must come quickly!”
Jumping to her feet, Gabby asked, “What is it, Hilda?”
The nurse started to speak, but suddenly a large figure filled the doorway. A stern-faced man in a German staff officer’s uniform stepped inside, brushing Hilda roughly to the side. “I am Oberleutnant Mueller. Our commandant has been shot. You must come at once.”
“Of course.”
Gabby followed the burly officer down the hall with Hilda at her side filling in details. “He’s already in the operating room ready for you.”
“You must save him. You understand, Doctor?”
“I will do the best I can for your commandant, exactly as I would do for any other patient.”
Mueller turned and glared at her, anger flaring in his eyes. But when he saw that she was calm and returning his look with determination, he nodded. “Do the best you can, Doctor. You must save him.”
Gabby directed the German to the waiting room, and she and Hilda scrubbed up. Hilda was an excellent operating nurse, and Gabby was glad she was on duty. The two pushed through the doors into the operating room and greeted the anesthesiologist.
“He’s ready, Dr. Winslow,” the man said. The patient was lying facedown on the operating table, sheets draped over all of his body except his shoulder.
“Thank you, Gregor.”
Gabby listened to Hilda rattle off the patient’s vital signs as she studied the entry point of the bullet. It had taken him high on his back on the left, and she knew there was some danger that it had punctured a lung. Quickly, she went to work probing for the bullet and soon said, “It looks good. It missed the lung.”
Removing the bullet proved to be relatively simple, and she dropped it into a pan and started to close the wound. “You can bandage the wound now, Hilda. I’ll speak to Lieutenant Mueller.”
She left the operating room and found Mueller waiting nervously, his face tense. Pulling the mask from her face, Gabby said, “He’s going to be all right. The bullet missed the lung.” She watched as relief washed across his stern face. “He will need to stay here for a couple days.”
“Certainly. I will assign guards to watch over his room.”
“As you wish. How did this happen?”
“A civilian appeared out of nowhere and shot before we could stop him.”
“And the civilian? Where is he?”
Mueller’s face hardened, and his eyelids pulled down over his eyes slowly, giving him a cruel visage. “He is dead, of course! He’s fortunate. I would have hanged him!”
****
Gabby was getting ready to leave when Hilda came into her office and said, “The German officer, he is awake. Do you wish to see him?”
“Yes. Is he doing well?”
“Perfectly well. He’s very strong.” Hilda shook her head. “It’s a shame the assailant missed the heart.”
“Come, Hilda, we mustn’t speak like that.”
Gabby went down the hall and past the two German guards stationed outside the private room that had been assigned to the commandant. They watched her as she went into the room but didn’t stop her, as she had already been introduced
by Oberleutnant Mueller. She started to greet the man, but a shock ran over her when she realized she was looking down at Erik Raeder!
She had thought of this man so often, but now as she stood speechless staring down at him, she saw recognition come into his eyes, and he smiled.
“Hello, Gabby,” he whispered.
“Erik! I didn’t know—” She could not finish, for her ability to think failed her at the shock of seeing him. She could not believe that this man whom she had loved—or thought she had loved—was lying in the bed.
“You’re surprised to see me,” he said. “But I knew you were here. That’s why I had them bring me here—I knew I’d be in good hands.” He reached for her hand. He squeezed it, but then his eyes began to close as the medication took over. “I always knew,” he whispered faintly, “that you would do me good, Gabby. Thank you for saving my life.”
She was so stunned it was difficult for her to answer. “You must sleep,” she said, not wanting to speak further.
He struggled to open his eyes and squeezed her hand again. “You are more beautiful than ever. I never forgot you,” he said before his eyes closed and his grip relaxed.
Gabrielle laid his hand on his chest and then found that her legs and knees were weak and that she was breathing rapidly, almost hyperventilating. She quickly walked from the room, and the thoughts that ran through her mind were as wild as any she had ever had.
****
For two days Gabby walked about almost in a state of shock. She stayed busy enough with her work and her visits with her great-aunt, but beneath these activities her mind went back to the room where Commandant Erik Raeder lay. She tried to act professional each time she stopped in to check on his progress, but she couldn’t help but think back on their time together in Germany.