Free Hope Rising by Stacy Henrie Page A

ground of reality. His only relief lay in seeking the oblivion sleep offered.
    *  *  *
    Wadding up the paper in front of her, Evelyn added it to the growing pile of white beside her bed. She threw the book she’d been using as a desk onto the blanket and leaned her head back against the wall. She was supposed to be sleeping, so she could make it through the night shift without falling asleep on her feet or consuming cup after cup of coffee.
    She brushed a hand over her damp forehead. Even the breeze wafting through the open window of the little room she shared with Alice failed to cool her completely. Would her whole pregnancy be like this? As a nurse, she knew the basics about carrying a child but little of the day-to-day things about being pregnant that a mother typically shared with a daughter. A fierce longing to talk to her grandmother—or her mother, as impossible as that was—knotted her throat with emotion and increased the pinching in her shoulders and neck.
    Why couldn’t she find the right words for her letter home? She wanted to confide in her grandparents, tell them there was a good possibility she’d be returning to the States before her time in France was up. It might ease the shock of finding her on the doorstep with her baby in tow. But every word Evelyn had penned so far seemed to reveal too much or not enough.
    She placed a hand against her stomach. It would still be some weeks before she felt the baby move; she knew that much, at least. Already, though, she felt a connection to this tiny being inside her, even as her energy waned and her daily sickness continued.
    Though she might wish for a different order to things, this baby was still hers and Ralph’s. A living reminder of him.
    “Why did you have to die, Ralph?” Whispering the words didn’t make them hurt with any less intensity. Evelyn pressed a hand to her chest, where the pain had taken up residence since Joel had brought her the news.
    Tears pooled in her eyes, making the dresser across the room look as if it were trembling. She could assess and treat nearly any wound and ailment presented to her, but how did one patch a broken heart? Joel’s assurances about Ralph changing brought her less comfort today. However much she’d helped Ralph, it did her little good now. Their baby would still grow up without a father, and she would be forced to return home without a husband.
    The burden of her secret had increased in size from a large rock to a boulder in the last three days. Would she be crushed beneath its weight, long before her pregnancy was even discovered? Evelyn set her mouth in a thin line of determination. No, she would stick with her plans to work as hard and as well as she possibly could.
    Brushing at her wet eyes, Evelyn bent down and collected the wads of paper. She would try to think of what to write later. Right now she needed to get rid of the half-written pages and their incriminating information.
    She removed a match from the box on top of the dresser and headed down the stairs. Outside the afternoon sun shone warm on her back as she stepped quickly toward the forest. Beneath the trees, she slowed her footsteps and followed the sun-strewn path.
    When she felt certain no one from the hospital could see her, Evelyn stopped. She placed the crinkled paper on the ground and struck the match against a nearby tree trunk. The tiny flame lapped at the pile of letters as she crouched beside them. Once the paper caught fire, Evelyn dropped the match onto the pile and watched with satisfaction as her letters burned. Her secret was safe—for now.
    The snap of a branch ahead of her made her shoot to her feet. Had someone followed her?
    “Who’s there?” she asked in a firm tone that belied her rapidly beating heart.
    “Nurse Gray?” Louis’s pale face and dark curls popped up from the brush.
    Evelyn released her breath. “ Bonjour , Louis.” She stomped the last of the paper ashes into the dirt and approached the boy.