The Past

"When we are tired, we are attacked by ideas we conquered long ago."
― Friedrich Nietzsche

Exhaustion….

Pure and complete exhaustion….

Isobel Crawley sank on to her bed, feeling each of her sixty some years as she bent over to pull off her shoes. Not bothering to change, she pulled her legs on to the bed and curled up under a large quilt.

Blissful peace and quiet…it had evaded her for a week…a full week since her only son had been killed. Had it been that long already? She couldn't be sure…time held no meaning any longer. How she longed for a night free from memories, free from worry and free from fear.

But such relief for Isobel Crawley would not come...not tonight nor any night soon.

December, 1900

"Matthew…Matthew , where are you?"

Isobel was bustling about in the entryway, gathering her gloves and bag for another long day at the hospital. She wished she did not have to leave her son, seeing as though his break over the holiday was only a few weeks long. But, he did enjoy being alone to read or work on a project for school while she was away.

"Coming, Mother!"

The fifteen year old young man quickly hurried down the stairs, running up to kiss his mother on the cheek.

"Are you going to the hospital?"

"Yes, dear. Make sure to bundle up if you go out today…they say it may storm. And do heed what Mrs. Bingham says, all right?"

"Yes, Mother. Will I see you tonight?"

Isobel smiled sadly and kissed her son's cheek. "I will do my best to make it home in time to say good night."

Matthew understood how hard his mother had to work to accommodate for those nurses who were caring for their injured husbands or had left the hospital after the loss of someone in the war. He hated how she was gone so often…but he knew she was doing it for the greater good which he admired her for immensely.

"Have a good day…and don't forget to tell Dr. Carrington about Father!"

Isobel chuckled as the boy hurried off to the library, all but likely to find another novel to immerse himself in. She called goodbye to both he and Mrs. Bingham before closing the door behind her for a short journey to the hospital. She walked quickly, hoping to make it there before the winds chilled her through. The atmosphere around Manchester was gloomy enough without adding a snow storm to the mix.

"Nurse Crawley, might I see you a moment?"

"Of course. I'll be right back," Isobel said with a smile to the young man lying beside her. The soldier nodded, thanking Mrs. Crawley for her help in writing a letter to his mother. She patted his shoulder before following the elderly Dr. Carrington to his office.

"Please have a seat, Nurse…Isobel," he corrected, smiling and motioning for her to take a seat. The Carrington's and Crawley's were old family friends. Dr. Carrington had trained Isobel's husband, Dr. Reginald Crawley, after he had graduated medical school. It pleased him to know he could keep an eye on Isobel while Reginald was off fighting in the Boer Conflict.

"How do you feel the other nurses are doing, Isobel? Are they overwhelmed?" Dr. Carrington asked, taking a seat and folding his hands on the desk.

"Oh, I wouldn't say so. I find we are running very well. The field hospitals have helped decrease the number of wounded we receive every day."

"Good. Very good. I value your opinion," he said with a smile. Her cheeks tinged a bit pink at the recognition, and she looked down at her hands. "Have you heard from Reginald?"

Her head popped up revealing a large smile. "Yes…we just had a letter yesterday. Matthew reminded me to tell you this morning but I hadn't thought of it before now."

"Good news, I presume?"

"Very. They have received his credentials and have asked that he be transferred to a field hospital commission," she said, her voice quivering with relief.

Dr. Carrington stood, coming around to take both of her hands in his. "What wonderful news! Molly will be so pleased….she worried so when she heard he was put on the front line."

Isobel nodded, knowing words would only bring tears if she dare speak just now. Dr. Carrington squeezed her hands once more before stepping back.

"Do send him our best wishes when you write next."

Isobel stood and thanked him. "I will be sure Matthew puts in a note. He insists on writing for both of us now that he is home from school."

"He is becoming quite the man of the house with Reginald away," Dr. Carrington replied, leading her to the door.

"Yes…it's hard to believe he is already fifteen."

"Unfortunately for parents, all children must grow up," he said, opening the door and ushering her back in to the hall.

"Quite true. Was there anything else, Doctor?"

"Yes….since the nursing staff seems to have things under control, why don't you head off a bit early?"

"Oh but…"

Dr. Carrington held up a hand. "Now, now…it is not often I can allow it, but seeing as though Matthew is only home for another week, I think it would be the perfect opportunity, don't you?"

Isobel looked down once more, a smile gracing her lips. "Thank you, Doctor. But you're sure?"

"Of course I'm sure! And besides, it is Christmas Eve."

Her smile quickly dropped. "My goodness, I hadn't even remembered…"

The doctor chuckled. "I daresay the days do tend to run together. Now, go home, Nurse Crawley. I don't expect to see you back here for another two days. That son of yours will surely want your attention."

"Yes…thank you ever so much, Dr. Carrington," Isobel replied, a glimmer of tears in her eyes. He waved as she gathered her coat, hat and bag from the nearest peg and left the hospital. There was a new joy in her step, one that Dr. Carrington surmised would only continue once she made it home…

…For she was not the only one who had received a recent letter from Dr. Reginald Crawley.