When the Clouds Roll By Read Online Free

the corpsman offered. “Save your ‘I told you so.’ You made your point.”
    “Sir, I just meant to—”
    “Go pester someone else, will you?” Gilbert tried to wheel the chair into the narrow aisle, but with his left arm still in a sling, the best he could do was turn in a drunken arc.
    The corpsman took a step forward but froze in his tracks when Gilbert snarled a curse.
    “Perhaps I can be of help?”
    Gilbert swung his head around. A tall, sandy-haired man in a chaplain’s uniform stood at the foot of the bed. At the sight of the tiny gold cross pinned to the chaplain’s collar, something cracked inside Gilbert’s heart. He sucked in a quavering breath. “Sorry, Padre, didn’t see you standing there.”
    The chaplain nodded to the corpsman, who squeezed past the wheelchair and hurried on to assist another patient. “Lieutenant Ballard, right?”
    Gilbert shrugged. “Says so on my chart. Some days I’m not so sure anymore.”
    The chaplain glanced away for a moment. “That’s okay. There are days I’d just as soon forget who I am too.”
    “Is that allowed?” Gilbert lifted an eyebrow. “You being a man of the cloth and all.”
    A dark look clouded the chaplain’s gray eyes, but he covered it with a lazy smile. “I’m Army Chaplain Samuel Vickary. I’ve stopped by before, but . . .”
    A pang of remorse tightened Gilbert’s throat. He gritted his teeth against the constant thrumming between his temples. “Sorry if I gave you the brush-off. This headache makes me half-crazy most of the time.”
    “Understandable.” The chaplain nodded toward the wheelchair. “Looks like you were headed out for some air. Feel like some company?”
    “Sure, why not?” Gilbert gave his useless left arm a disgusted shake. “Apparently I’m not getting anywhere under my own power.”
    He allowed the chaplain to wheel him onto the starboard deck and tried to ignore the stares of the men they passed along the way. Or maybe they weren’t staring at him but into their own tortured souls.
    The chaplain parked Gilbert next to the rail and pulled a deck chair alongside him. The ocean air tasted of brine, and the sunshine on his face felt good. He closed his eyes and drew a hand through his wind-tousled hair.
    “I understand you’re from Arkansas,” the chaplain said.
    “Hot Springs.” It would only be polite to ask where the chaplain hailed from, but Gilbert let the impulse pass. Politeness didn’t come easy these days.
    “Bet your family can’t wait to see you again.”
    “My mother will fuss over me. My brother will brag about me to all his friends.” Gilbert snorted an ugly laugh. “The conquering hero home at last.”
    “It’s no small thing, serving your country as you did. I’m sure they’re proud. I’m sure your father would be proud, too.”
    Gilbert slanted the padre an accusing glare. “You’ve been talking to the doc.”
    Chaplain Vickary tilted his head and smiled. “It’s true. Dr. Russ did ask me to visit with you. He mentioned your father also served in the army and lost his life in the Spanish-American War.”
    Gilbert glanced away. “At least he died a hero, not a cripple.”
    “Sometimes it takes more courage to go on living.” The chaplain fell into silence for several long moments, his thumbs scraping the binding of his Bible so hard Gilbert wondered how he kept from wearing a hole straight through to the flimsy pages.
    Finally the chaplain spoke again, his voice muted. “And do you have a wife or a sweetheart waiting for you back home?”
    Gilbert’s gut twisted as Annemarie’s face danced across his mind’s eye—raven curls that resisted every effort to restrain them, eyes as big and brown and luminous as a fawn’s, lips so pink and ripe that he could taste their sweetness even in his dreams.
    “Yes,” he said on a pained breath. “I have a sweetheart. We’re—we were planning to marry as soon as the war ended.”
    “That’s terrific.” The padre cleared his