3
Distillery Hospital, 23 February 1871
After Claire left, Chad sat at the desk and put his head in his hands. He pressed the heels of his palms to his eyes until he saw stars, but they didn’t erase the pained look on Claire’s face when the headache struck her. As much as it hurt to have her near, he enjoyed her quick mind and humor. She’d preserved those, at least, even if she’d lost so much else. Including her memories of him.
It just didn’t make any kind of logical sense. But then, very little since the start of this War Between the States, as it was called in the newspapers, did. The seven months he and Patrick had spent in Europe and then the five weeks in the Ottoman Empire seemed like dreams at this point. Or maybe that time was real, and this was the nightmare.
A knock on the d
