CHAPTER 1

November 1918 - Blackpool, England

"Elena," Doctor Lyle Macallister whispered tenderly as he touched her shoulder to awaken her. Gazing at her, he felt his heart contract with emotion. She was so peaceful in sleep, so perfect-an angel amid the chaos and ugliness of the war. He knew he was falling hopelessly in love, but he could do nothing to prevent it.

Ward 8C in the Victoria Hospital in Blackpool was quiet, apart from an occasional muffled groan coming from one of the beds at the far end, near the blacked-out windows. A solitary lamp burned in another corner, giving off just enough light for the nurses to check on patients.

Lyle glanced at his watch. It was after midnight. He'd been on his feet for fourteen hours, most of that time in the operating theatre. No wonder he felt weary. Somewhere in the distance he could hear sirens screaming. It had taken weeks, but the sound was no longer as terrifying as it used to be, sad proof that over time you could get used to anything. He didn't even smell the acute odour of infection or Lysol disinfectant any more, or the stench of so much death.

Nurse Elena Fabrizia was sleeping in a wicker chair beside one of her patients. Private Norman Mason of the Ninth Battalion, North and Lancaster Regiment, had been badly wounded on a battlefield in Passchendaele, France. He'd told Elena that he was from Derbyshire and was married with seven-year-old twin daughters whom he hadn't seen since the summer of 1914, when they were only three.

Elena stirred and then winced at a twinge of pain from her stiff neck.

"Have you been here since the end of your shift?" Lyle whispered. He'd made it his business to know that her shift had finished at seven o'clock. He thought she'd gone home to her parents' house on Warbreck Road, but he was only mildly surprised to find her asleep beside Norman Mason. Her dedication was just one of the many things he'd come to love and admire about her.

"What time is it?" Elena asked sleepily as she adjusted her white mop cap over her loosely tied-back long, dark hair. Her white apron, adorned with a red cross on the bib to signify that she was a nurse, bore evidence of some of the unpleasant tasks she'd done that day.

"Quarter past twelve," Lyle said softly.

"Oh, my goodness. Mama and Papa will be worried." Elena straightened up and glanced at the man in the bed beside her. "Norman's leg wound doesn't look so good." Her voice trembled as she thought about the possible ramifications of his injury. She'd done her training in a small hospital that didn't accept wounded soldiers. She had transferred to the Victoria Hospital a few months ago because they'd been desperately short-staffed. Elena had never seen such shocking injuries, but at twenty-two years of age she felt that she should have the maturity to be professionally detached from all she witnessed. The fact that she was affected so deeply had her questioning her vocation. But she was needed. She couldn't walk away.

Norman's right calf muscle had been pierced straight through, the muscle ripped from the shin bone between his knee and ankle. The bone in his left leg had been shattered beyond repair. That leg had been amputated above the knee three days earlier.

"His fever is high, so I'm afraid his leg is becoming gangrenous," Elena added. Despite how cold it was outside, Norman's brow was wet with perspiration. She leaned over him and gently dabbed his forehead with a cloth.

At the end of her twelve-hour shift, Elena had gone to Norman's bedside to check on him one last time. The ether was having little effect on his pain, and he'd wanted to talk about his wife and children. She'd been exhausted, but she couldn't deny him company, not when it distracted him from his suffering. Initially, Norman had displayed a lot of anger and self-pity about the leg he'd lost, but tonight was different. Reality had set in, and he was terrified that he might not live to see his girls grow up.

Lyle drew Elena away from Norman. Even though it was clear that the young soldier was enjoying a few minutes of merciful sleep, he didn't want there to be any chance that his next words might be overheard.

"You know he may lose that leg, too, Elena," Lyle whispered. "That decision will be made tomorrow. If it has to come off to save his life, then we'll have no choice."

Elena's weariness made her unable to control her emotions, and her dark brown eyes filled with tears. "I know. I just wish it could be saved. He's already lost so much."

"I'm sure his wife would prefer a husband with no legs to no husband at all, Elena. You must see it that way."

Elena's head dropped. "You're right," she whispered. "You're so strong and wise, Lyle. I wish I was more like you."

Lyle winced at the remark. "I'm far from perfect, Elena. I'm just a man trying to do the best I can. I don't always get it right."

"You've saved so many lives. I don't know where this hospital would be without you, Lyle, or how I'd get through each day."

"You're stronger than you think, Elena, and you've brought so much comfort to men like Norman. Never underestimate how special you are."

Lyle took her hand and led her farther away from Norman's bed. They stood facing each other in a dim corner of the ward. Lyle looked into Elena's eyes. He'd been fighting his feelings for her, but he was finding it harder and harder to ignore the pull on his heart. He'd already kissed her several times, and he wanted to do it again, over and over.

Elena's dark eyes were shining with emotion. Lyle was the most handsome man she'd ever seen. Every nurse in the Victoria Hospital, regardless of age, literally swooned when he glanced in their direction, and yet he seemed completely oblivious. Elena wasn't immune to his looks, but she truly believed she was the only nurse who understood that there was far more to Doctor Lyle Macallister than his dashing good looks. He was sensitive and flirtatious in an amusing way. Even amid the horror they faced, he could make her smile with his wonderful sense of humour. She understood why the warmth of his voice and his deep Scottish brogue were such a comfort to patients. She felt the true extent of his compassion and dedication to medicine. He was an exceptional man, and she'd fallen deeply in love with him.

Lyle had completed his training in a hospital in Edinburgh before the war broke out. He'd worked at the Crichton Royal Hospital in Dumfries, Scotland, for four years before being recruited to Blackpool, along with several of his colleagues. He was disappointed that in six weeks he hadn't been able to make more of an impact in the overcrowded conditions, but medical supplies had been short. To add to the frustration of the wounded soldiers coming in faster than they could be treated, a Spanish flu epidemic was killing thousands in Europe.

From the moment Lyle had first laid eyes on Elena Fabrizia, his world had turned upside down. Before he started his job at the Victoria Hospital, he'd been accepting and compliant in the life mapped out for him by those around him. Then he met Elena. Now his future felt like a deck of cards that had been thrown into the air on a windy day.

"You should be wearing your germ mask, Elena. The influenza has claimed twenty lives in this hospital in the past four days," Lyle said, concern lining his face. Now that he'd found her, he couldn't bear the thought of losing her.

Elena nodded. She was too weary to think. Lyle drew her into his arms and their lips met. At first the kiss was tender, but then Lyle's arms tightened around her small frame, and he kissed her hungrily. They could hear the night nurses doing their rounds in the next ward, so they knew that they had a few precious moments of privacy. Secrets weren't easy to keep in busy hospital environments, and both of them had their reasons for not wanting it known that they were falling in love.

"I must go home," Elena said, thinking of the trouble she would be in if her family found out she was kissing one of the doctors. She reluctantly stepped out of his embrace. "My father might come looking for me." Luigi Fabrizia was very strict. He didn't allow Elena to date. Even though his wife, Louisa, had had an English mother, it was no secret in their family that her father wanted her to marry an Italian man, a Catholic. If he knew she'd fallen in love with a Scottish Protestant, he'd ship her back to family in Italy. For this reason, Lyle and Elena were only able to steal brief moments together.

"I have something to tell you before you go, Elena," Lyle said. He drew her out of the ward to the privacy of a small lounge for visitors that contained a few wooden chairs. The lounge made Lyle think of the many times he'd given the worst possible news to the families of his patients, but he needed to talk to her about something other than patients, illness, and death.

"I've just been given a four-day break starting tomorrow morning," he said earnestly. "That's enough time to get home to Dumfries and be back at work on Wednesday." He watched her reaction and could see that she was disappointed they wouldn't be...