Mr. Cooper met me near the door and said, “You look lovely this evening, Miss Wakefield. Well worth the wait.” He halted, and I followed suit as he tilted his head and looked closely at my neck.
I froze, surprised at his scrutiny.
“I apologize,” he said, “but I believe you have ... mud behind your ear.”
My hand went to my neck, and I felt a clump of dried mud. Heat rose from my chest up my throat as I pulled it away.
“Do you enjoy rolling in the mud, Miss Wakefield?” he asked with a twinkle in his eye.
“It is my favorite pastime,” I said with a smile.
“One wonders what kept you so long on such a dreary night as this.” He tilted an eyebrow. “That involves mud. Perhaps it’s one of your many secrets?”
Papa and Mr. Cameron had entered the dining room andwere now out of sight. I was certain Papa would not want me discussing what had kept me, but I couldn’t explain the mud in any other way without raising more questions.
“It’s not a secret. I met the train of soldiers who came in from Baltimore and brought them food and medical supplies.” I wouldn’t tell him I had provided medical assistance—thatwould need to remain a secret. Or that I had brought two of them home with me.
The teasing gleam disappeared from his gaze, replaced with a combination of surprise and admiration. “Truly?”
For some reason, this new look warmed me far more than his teasing one. “We will all be called to sacrifice in the weeks and months ahead. I am simply doing what I can.”
“An admirable attitude, Miss Wakefield.” He glanced toward the dining room and then back at me, lowering his voice. “Perhaps if we all focused on what was best for this country and not on our own careers or reputations, we’d be a lot more prepared for the battle ahead.”
Whatdidhe think was best for the country? Was he in favor of the Union or the Confederacy?
“Margaret?” Papa appeared at the door, a question in his voice.
“Coming,” I said to him as Mr. Cooper offered his arm to escort me.
“Your actions tonight speak volumes about your character,” Mr. Cooper said with a smile. “You’re not afraid to flout convention or put your reputation in danger for a cause you are passionate about.”
I dipped my head, acknowledging his assessment.
“Which suggests,” he said, leaning a little closer to me as we entered the dining room, making my pulse pick up speed, “that perhaps you’re hiding more secrets than I first suspected.”
It had been a long day, and my inhibitions had been set aside, so I gave him an answer I might one day regret.
“Perhaps I am.” I decided not to leave it there. “But your suggestion begs a few questions of my own. What brings a man from Great Britain all the way across the sea to work in the White House? And how does he achieve such a lofty position in such a short amount of time? Perhaps you’re hiding more secrets thanIfirst suspected.”
It was hard to read his expression as he dipped his head and said, “Perhaps I am.”
5
APRIL 19, 1941
BETHESDA, MARYLAND
“You’ll be working in surgery today with Dr. Philips,” Nurse Daly told me as I reported for duty on my first full day at the naval hospital.
“Dr. Zechariah Philips?”
“Yes. He’ll be using operating room three. Your first surgery is scheduled in thirty minutes, so you’ll need to hurry.”
I had already left Anna, who was working in the pediatric ward. She seemed a little happier that morning, knowing she would be treating children. I had been eager to get started as well—until I learned who I would work with that day.
It didn’t take long to find the right operating room. There were two other nurses already on duty, preparing the room for surgery. After scrubbing my hands and arms, I joined them. Thankfully, sanitary practices in the operating room had become widely accepted by 1941, though they were not up to 2001 standards. The nurses were allowed to wear their uniforms in and out of the operating room and were only instructed to change if they were visibly soiled.
“We have an appendectomy today,” the first nurse said to me. “Have you assisted with appendectomies in the past?”
