“So sorry to keep you waiting,” said a young man in a black waistcoat, appearing before them. “If you’d follow me, Mr. Willoughby, sir?”
As they were led to a small table in the corner, Adele took in the white-panelled walls cut in half by dark wainscotting, the muted lamps over every table, offering both repose and privacy, then the mirrored bar,lined by dozens of colourful liquor bottles. The tavern was fairly crowded already with the supper crowd, and she saw most had a glass of something in their hands. The sight gave her a lift of anticipation: this was a side of Prohibition she hadn’t considered.
A waiter appeared with menus and remained beside the table. “Good evening, Mr. Willoughby. As always, it’s a pleasure to see you.”
Ernie gave him a noncommittal nod then looked to Adele. “What would you like to drink?”
“A cup of tea, I believe,” she said, suddenly shy.
He cocked an eyebrow. “Whisky. My regular,” he told the waiter. “And I’ll have the boiled lamb. Miss Savard?”
She quickly scanned the menu. “The chicken fricassee looks delicious.”
“Excellent choice.”
The drinks came quickly, and Ernie—he insisted she call him by his first name—held up his glass.
“A toast to you, Miss Savard, and to your nursing skills, used so courageously in the most perilous of places. It’s a rare woman who has that much pluck.”
Adele blushed, blowing over her steaming cup of tea. “You’re very kind. Please call me Adele.”
“Adele,” he repeated. “Such a lovely name.” He reclined in his chair, but his eyes never left hers. “Tell me. Why did a pretty girl from Petite Côte choose to become a nurse when she could have stayed home like many others?”
“I suppose I got restless. If you asked my mother, she would say I was always meant to be a nurse. My dolls were usually wrapped in some sort of bandages, and I was always bringing home injured birds, though I’ll admit I don’t remember if they left my care flying or not. She encouraged me to go to nursing school in Toronto, and I was eager to see more of the world, so I hopped on the train.”
“Then onto the ship bound for Europe.”
“My mother was less enthusiastic about that, but it seemed the right thing to do,” she replied. “I wanted to be of use, and I was trained for exactly what they required. I was glad to go.”
“I admire that. A woman who seizes an opportunity without fear.”
“Oh, I can’t say there wasn’t any fear,” she replied wryly. “We shipped out fairly early in the war, so we didn’t really know what would be expected of us until we were in the thick of it. I probably should have been far more afraid than I was.”
His brow creased. “I cannot imagine what you went through.”
She thought it a strange comment since he’d seen conflict as well. Then again, everyone had their own experience. What mattered was that they’d survived.
She took a sip of her tea, feeling herself open up a little. “It’s difficult to describe, isn’t it? The war itself was so vast, so we’d all have come away from it with different memories and thoughts. I’m glad I went. I took strength and pride from helping those poor men. We saved a lot of lives. And I made a lot of friends while I was there.”
“Where were you stationed?”
“I worked in a clearing station, so we moved a couple of times. We started in France, but most of the time I was in Belgium. We were close to the Front, but not actuallyinit. The men came to us straight from the battles, though.”
“You must have seen some terrible things.”
Her mind returned to the chaos of the hospital, the commanding shouts of doctors and the cries of suffering men. The quiet sobs that leaked into rare moments of silence when men and nurses broke. When she let herself remember, she could see butchered wounds pulsing blood from weakened hearts as clearly as if she was still there. She could see again the exposed bones; the streaming, blinded eyes; the severed, abandoned limbs set to the side of the operating table while she and the doctor focused on sewing what was left of a man back together.
Yes, she’d seen a lot of things.
“I did,” she said, drawing a ragged breath.
Concern shone in his brown eyes. “I’m sorry if I’ve upset you.”
She pushed the memories back and squeezed out a smile. “Oh no, you haven’t at all. This happens sometimes, often when I least expect it. It’s like I get flashes of things that happened over there. Memories I’d rather forget.” She took another breath, grounding herself once again. “Perhaps I will have that glass of whisky after all.”
“Certainly.” Ernie signalled to the waiter and pointed at his drink. A glass of amber liquid appeared almost instantly in front of Adele.
“Thank you,” she said, enjoying the warmth of the first sip. “Enough about me, though. I imagine you would have seen things, too.”
