فصل 71

florian

I knew it. The nurse would want to see my ear. I watched her make her way through the aisle, looking for the stairway. Would she find it? I sat down and began cleaning my nails with the knife.

She opened the door. “I’m surprised it’s unlocked.”

“I knew you would come up.”

“How did you know?” she asked.

I shrugged. “You’re exceedingly responsible. You have this terrible need to heal people.” I looked up from my jackknife. “Why is that?”

“You’re one to ask questions. You barely speak. I’ve asked your name several times and you won’t reply. Do you know what I call you?” she asked. “The German.”

“I’m Prussian.” I looked down at my knife. Should I have told her that?

“Okay, so now you’re the Prussian.” She knelt in close. “Let me look at your ear.” She reached into her bag, pulled out a small light, and peered into my ear.

I could feel the warmth of her face near mine. An amber pendant rested in the hollow of her throat. “Nice necklace. Do you like amber?” I asked, thinking of the priceless swan.

“I’m Lithuanian. Of course I like amber. Your eardrum has ruptured. This is recent. How did it happen?” she asked.

“The explosion. Same time as the shrapnel,” I told her.

She pressed around my ear. Her fingertips brushed against my earlobe. I twitched.

“Does that hurt?” she asked.

I shook my head. No, it didn’t hurt. I was half-deaf but I wasn’t numb. The nurse’s face was inches from mine. Her mouth was close and her breath was in my ear. I closed my eyes, fighting like hell to hold off the shiver. She was testing me.

She leaned back on her heels, grinning.

“Are you satisfied?” I asked her.

“Oh, yes.” She smiled. “You must be deaf in that ear.”

“I know you said something. I could feel it. I just couldn’t hear it.”

“Well, I’d like you to hear this. I’m Joana. You should call me by my name. Not nurse, not girl. Joana.”

“That might be impolite,” I told her. “You’re older than me. I should probably call you ma’am, or maybe madame?”

She rolled her eyes. “Lie down. I want to check the dressing on your wound.”

I lay back and folded my arms behind my head. I had to ask.

“Or maybe you’re a Mrs.?” I said.

“No, I’m not a Mrs.,” she said, inspecting my wound. “Do you have a Mrs.?”

I flinched. “That area you’re touching now. It still hurts,” I said.

“That’s normal. If it were infected, you’d have a fever and discoloration.” She had no problem returning to medical chat. She softly swept back my overgrown hair and laid her palm against my forehead. Her hand was warm. “You don’t have a fever.” She paused and cleared her throat. “So I’ve been thinking about what you said. We could all be split up tomorrow. I need to stay with Emilia.”

“You need to?”

She peeled my soiled bandage back farther. “Yes. Her time is near and despite the brave face she’s putting on, she’s probably quite frightened.”

Are you frightened? I wanted to ask. Was a soldier waiting somewhere for her? I thought of the song “Lili Marleen” that she had mentioned. Maybe a guy was waiting under a lamppost back in Lithuania.

“So you want to help the Polish girl. Are you like that English nurse, the one who carried her lamp through the dark to save all of those sick people?”

“No,” she said flatly. “I’m no Florence Nightingale. It’s just—Emilia reminds me of someone.”