Everett’s face falls into a grimace. “Lizzie.”
“Look at me,” I say, grabbing his chin. “You have nothing to worry about.”
“No one says I’ll be okay,” he mutters.
“I said you’ll be okay, and you will be. Do you hear me?”
Everett attempts to stretch, seeming more uncomfortable than usual, so I help him readjust his position, spotting an angry red patch on his back. It’s an ulcer with exposed tissue. I’ve been keeping him clean and moving him as often as possible but all of them go from hot-to-cold overnight. They’re bundled up and then they often break into night sweats.The bedsores are almost unavoidable with some of them.
“I need to get you cleaned up. It looks like you have a bedsore,” I tell Everett.
After compiling the items to disinfect the area, I come to find several more spots on his back. His temperature is higher than normal, and his blood pressure isn’t where I’d like it to be. “I’m going to see about starting you on penicillin when the medic returns.”
“I’m okay,” Everett says through a groan as I clean the infected area with a cloth drenched in alcohol.
“This requires proper treatment. It’s imperative, Everett.” I’m concerned this might be the start of sepsis, and I am aware of the prognosis of a patient with a blood infection even under the best of circumstances which we don’t have here. Just as things begin to improve, something else must go wrong.
“You’re just worried,” he says.
“I’m going to find the medic. I’ll be right back.”
The moment I step out of the tent, I spot Captain Landry approaching with the sun rising behind her. I stop to salute her, waiting to see if she is looking for me or passing by. “At ease.”
“Yes, Ma’am.”
“We are being moved to Belgium along with most of the evacuation hospital. A unit has been over there, setting up our new location. Please help prepare the others to implement standard protocol for transferring patients who we expect to make a full recovery. The others are having arrangements made on their behalf.”
The words, “Yes, Ma’am,” don’t feel as though they are coming out of my mouth. Another wave of shock runs through me like a dry sponge against a brick. Everett was right.
Captain Landry takes a glance around before placing her hand on my back and guiding me several yards away from the tents. “Lizzie, I know how concerned you are for Lieutenant Anderson, but I need you to know my hands are tied this time. He will not be moving to Belgium with us.”
All I can do is offer a nod of my head, feeling the drain of emotions slip through my body. The thought of giving up and succumbing, so the struggle will be over, feels easier than continuing. It’s a horrible thought to consider, but one that has crossed my mind many times.
“I will alert the others,” I say.
“Lizzie, Germany is not a safe place for you. I need you to be aware. We’ve been kept away from the Nazis in this location, but I’m afraid we won’t be facing the same situation once we move.”
As if there was more breath to steal from my lungs, I am sure there is not an ounce of oxygen left in my body now. “I will keep my head down and stay away from any hint of trouble, Ma’am.”
“I want to keep you safe.”
“Thank you, Ma’am.”
Once Captain Landry is out of sight, I return to the tent and race to Everett’s bedside. “I have some bad news,” I tell him, dropping to my knees.
“What is it?” he asks.
“You were correct. I’m not sure where you are being sent, but you aren’t coming with the rest of us to Belgium.”
Everett struggles to lift his hand and touch the side of my face. “I don’t want you to go there.”
“I don’t have a say in the matter.”
He closes his eyes for a moment and opens them, but he locks his stare on the pitch of the tent rather than me. “What if one of us doesn’t make it back home?”
It’s the first time Everett has verbalized this question that’s most likely been ruminating in his brain all this time. With all that we have been through, he has tried to stay positive even when suffering in silence. He did that to keep my spirits up. Even in his battle-scarred state, he’s been trying to take care of me.
“Home,” I state. I close my eyes for a moment too, recalling the conversation I had with the salesman in the furniture story the day I was foolishly planning out my future, looking at fabrics and colors. “Home is wherever we are together; wherever that may be.”
