Maggie laid her cloth aside and sat still for a moment. When she turned, she stared at Eve carefully. “You are quite serious, aren’t you? Or are you perhaps a little bit balmy?”
“I am not,” Eve said.
“Are you an actress?”
“No… I’m a nurse.”
Maggie’s eyes shifted. Her expression changed from doubt to suspicion. “How do you know my father? And who is your husband, and where is your husband?”
“I’ll tell you everything you want to know, but not here and not now. As you said, your gentleman friend will be here at any moment. I don’t think he’ll want me here. Can we meet somewhere in private, and soon? Possibly in the next day or so?”
Maggie kept her wary eyes on Eve. “I do not know, Mrs. Gantly. I simply do not know. There is something about you that disturbs me…yes, and that troubles me. I don’t like trouble, at least not that kind of trouble. A nurse you said? You’re a nurse?”
“Yes…”
“Where?”
“I am not currently employed.”
“Where are you from?”
“Originally, Ohio. I live here now. In New York.”
“Where?”
“I have just arrived. I’m living with friends temporarily.”
“What friends?”
Eve hesitated. She was about to speak when the large shadow of a man appeared in the doorway, blocking the outside light. The room turned suddenly cold.
Maggie sat back, unperturbed, looking at Big Jim through the mirror.
“Hello, Big Jimmy. How are the tables tonight?”
His quick, suspicious, green eyes glanced about. They settled on Eve. Eve swallowed as she slowly lifted her timid eyes on him. He was a big man, clearly as tall as Patrick, with a barrel chest, a paunchy belligerent stomach and menacing, challenging eyes that seemed to take in everything. His tweed suit was too tight for him and his bowler cap was pulled tightly over his head.
He glared at Maggie. “Who is this woman?”
“A new friend. An admirer.”
“I said nobody comes back to see you tonight,” he said in a slight Irish accent. “I told you, and I told everybody to tell you that.”
“She was very kind and complimentary. I can always use new friends, Big Jimmy.”
Big Jim lowered his half-hooded eyes on Eve. “Go now. Leave the glass and go.”
“Don’t be rude, Big Jimmy.”
“You shut up!” he barked. To Eve, he jerked his thumb toward the door. “You, go. Get out!”
Eve arose with as much calm dignity as she could muster. She held Maggie’s eyes.
“It was a real pleasure to meet you and to see you perform, Miss Gantly. I hope to see you again.”
“Perhaps we can meet for tea some afternoon,” Maggie said. “The St. Regis has a lovely tea.”
“I hope we can,” Eve said.
Big Jim stepped out of the doorway to let Eve pass, staring at her with stormy eyes.
“What is your name?” Big Jim asked as she passed him and moved out into the hallway.
“Eve Sharland.”
He grunted something insulting under his breath.
Outside the theatre, Eve searched the street and saw William, the chauffeur, wave at her. She slipped on her coat against the quick, chilly wind and started for the car. He held the door for her and she slipped inside.
When the door closed, Eve saw Duncan’s head resting on Irene’s shoulder.
“Is he all right, Irene?”
Irene’s face was pinched in concern. “No, Eve. I am very worried. I want him to go see a doctor, but he refuses. What should I do?”
“No doctor,” Duncan said, in a low, muffled voice. “No doctors.”
Eve struggled to shake her encounter with Maggie and the toxic energy of Big Jim. “Can you take him to your home?” Eve asked.
When Eve saw the terror in Irene’s face, she knew the answer. “All right, let’s go to his place.”
Irene’s mind seemed to lock up. “Why, Eve?”
“I’ll examine him.”
“What? You will do what?”
“I am a nurse, Irene.”
Irene couldn’t find any words.
Eve leaned forward. “William, please take us to Greenwich Village.”
She turned to Duncan. “Duncan, where do you live?”
CHAPTER 16
Duncan’s railroad style apartment was just off Christopher Street. William helped Duncan up the four flights of stairs to the two narrow rooms and eased him down on the rumpled single bed.
Irene turned a stern eye on William. “You cannot mention this to Mummy or to Addison, William. This entire night must remain the deepest secret. Do I have your word?”
William’s eyes shifted, his nose seemed more pointed. He snapped his hands behind his back and stood at attention. “Yes, Miss Casterbury. You have my word. Shall I wait for you downstairs?”
Irene was tentative. “No… Well, Yes…”
Irene looked to Eve for help.
“Yes, William. Please wait for us in the car. We won’t be long.”
“Very good, Miss Casterbury.”
And then he slipped silently away, like a shadow, leaving Duncan on the bed in a fetal position, Irene anxious and scared, and Eve shedding her coat, glancing about the apartment for clues as to medicine, bottles or pills. She wasn’t sure what she was looking for.
She saw a painting easel and canvasses propped carelessly against the base of the walls, showing various abstract paintings, one looking much like a stormy sea or the inside of a hurricane. Another painting was of steel gray streets and distorted faces that were vague, lonely and peering out of a yellow, smoky fog.
On a rickety-looking kitchen table was a dirty plate and a glass half-filled with some brown liquid. Whiskey? Next to that was a wooden painter’s palette, with six round wells, four rectangular wells, and one thumb hole.
“What should we do, Eve?” Irene said, her lashes batting with wide-eyed innocence and vulnerability.
Eve spotted a squat clear bottle with a silver label lying on Duncan’s bedside table. She went to it and scooped it up. It was empty. She read the printed label:
BAYER PHARMACEUTICAL PRODUCTS
ELBERFELD HEROIN
Eve’s eyes enlarged on the label. “What? Heroin?” She looked at Duncan, whose eyes were still tightly closed.
She held up the bottle. “Duncan, have you been taking this? Duncan. Wake up!”
His eyes fluttered open. “What?”
Eve held the bottle up. “Have you been taking this?”
He squinted at the bottle. “Yes…” he said, weakly. “A doctor down the street prescribed it. He said it would help my cough.”
Eve thought of the opioid crisis in 2018. And then she thought of the famous quote The more things change, the more they stay the same.
Irene saw the alarm on Eve’s face.
“Eve, what is it?”
Eve ignored her. “What kind of cough? How long have you been sick, Duncan?”
“I don’t know.”
“He’s been coughing for a while,” Irene said. “I sent him to a doctor.”
Eve sat down on the edge of the bed and placed a hand on Duncan’s forehead. He was burning up and shivering.
“Eve! That is unseemly,” Irene said, as she clapped a hand over her mouth. “We should not even be in Duncan’s room. Please stand up and away from Duncan’s bed.”
Eve shot her a look. “Duncan is very sick. We must get him to a hospital. Where is the nearest hospital around here?”
Irene stammered. “I don’t know… I have no idea.”
“Gouverneur Hospital on Water Street,” Duncan said, weakly.
Eve shot to her feet. She knew about Gouverneur Hospital. She’d worked there as a nurse when she had time traveled to 1885. Was it still there, twenty-eight years later? Eve recalled the neighborhood. Not the best. The riverfront neighborhood of Water Street and Gouveneur’s Slip was among t
he seediest in New York City in the 1880s, with nearby brothels, saloons and gambling dens. Stabbings, shootings, and beatings were common, and she’d seen it all working there as a nurse. It was the same hospital she’d taken Patrick to after he’d been shot at the Harringshaw ball.
“Are you sure it’s on Water Street, Duncan?” Eve asked.
In a coughing, raspy voice he said, “Yes… I’ve been there.”
Eve turned to a still-startled Irene. “Help me get him up and out of here, Irene.”
Irene turned to the door. “I should call William.”
“We can do it. Come on, help me. I’m betting Duncan has pneumonia.”
Irene gasped.
“Now, Irene. Help me.”
As the car approached the hospital, Eve saw that it was not the same hospital it had been 1885. It was newer and larger, four-stories now, built of red brick and trimmed in terra cotta. There were rounded balconies on each floor to provide privacy and protection from the direct midday heat. What a change for the better, Eve thought.
William helped lift Duncan from the car, wrapping an arm around Duncan’s shoulder and walking him into the hospital. As they entered the narrow reception area, Eve and Irene drew attention. Many downcast eyes lifted in sudden surprise and fastened on to them. A white-haired man sitting in a wheelchair, with two trousered stumps for legs, stared up with misty drugged eyes.
Dressed richly as they were, and being assisted by a smartly dressed chauffeur, Eve and company looked very out of place in this hospital for the poor, like a royal family entering a neighborhood bar.
It was Eve who took charge and spoke to the helpful nurse at reception. Irene stepped over to assure payment for any services performed.
Within minutes, a male orderly appeared with a wheelchair and William lowered Duncan into it. Irene continued filling out the paperwork, as Eve followed the wheelchair down a long, gray-tiled hallway, past the Charity Department, continuing through two swinging doors, parted by a waiting nurse. Duncan’s head had fallen to his chest, and Eve was worried. As they passed the Children’s Ward, a sign on the door read QUARANTINED.
“Why are they quarantined?” Eve asked the young, athletic orderly, whose eyes were fixed ahead.
“Measles, whooping-cough and pneumonia. Infectious diseases spread quickly in the hospital.”
He glanced at her, and Eve felt the young man’s judgment of her: her clothes, the stylish hat and coat. He believed her to be part of the fortunate upper-class, of course.
“Maybe you don’t know, Miss, but the Lower East Side is filled with tenements crammed with poor immigrant families.”
Eve ignored his judgmental gaze as they pressed on.
Eve waited outside in the hallway while Duncan was wheeled inside a room. She was told that he would be undressed, placed in a cotton hospital gown and put to bed.
It wasn’t long before a short, serious, middle-aged male doctor and a weary-looking nurse appeared. Eve was sure that the doctor’s swift appearance had much to do with Irene, her class and her money.
When Eve explained Duncan’s symptoms and the medication he was taking, the doctor averted his uninterested eyes, and the nurse simply turned away and went inside. Moments later, the doctor muttered a thank you, turned and left Eve alone in the hallway.
Eve returned to reception to find Irene pacing, worried and anxious. Six poor souls, waiting to be admitted, were staring at Irene, some with dry, weary interest, others with curiosity and awe. They were dressed shabbily, clothes soiled, shoulders hunched, tired faces fearful. Eve had forgotten about the variety of foul odors of this time. Clothes were not washed frequently, and bathing was not as common as it was in the 21st century. She wanted to step outside for a gasp of fresh air and, at the same time, she wished she had something to offer them besides a kind look: money, or medication from her time.
Irene rushed to Eve as she approached. “How is poor Duncan?”
“I don’t know. The doctor is with him.”
“Oh my, I cannot stay here, but I am so worried about Duncan. What am I to do?”
This once strong and forceful Irene was now a near basket case. It was obvious that she was head-over-heels in love with Duncan.
Irene lowered her voice, glancing about dismally. “Look at this place, Eve. The neighborhood is frightening, and this hospital is so, well, near the river. I wish I could have Dr. Winslow, our family physician, treat Duncan, but I dare not. Mummy will find out about Duncan and she will faint dead away, and make such a scene, demanding that I never see Duncan again. She will stop the flow of my funds. I must get home right away, or Mummy will be all frantic nerves. She may even call the detectives. It’s getting so late.”
“Okay, why don’t you let William take you home.”
“But what will you do?”
“I’ll stay with Duncan until I learn something. Can you send William back to pick me up in a couple of hours?”
“Well, yes, of course, but what will I tell Mummy?”
“You can make something up. You’re good at that.”
Irene gazed sorrowfully down the long, dimly-lit corridor where Duncan had gone. “I am so very worried about Duncan, Eve. You are such a dear to stay here with him, in case he needs someone. I knew you would be a true and trusted friend the moment I first saw you, looking so forlorn sitting on that Central Park bench.”
“Go now, Irene. I’ll drop by your room tonight when I return.”
Irene lowered her head in defeat. “I am such a foolish girl to fall for such a lost soul. But what can I do? Dear Duncan has touched my heart like no other man has, or indeed ever could.”
Irene kissed Eve on either cheek, and then she swept out of the hospital as if borne on a fortunate current of wind.
CHAPTER 17
Eve stood in the quiet reception room because all the chairs were occupied. One old wrinkled and stooped man pushed up with effort and graciously indicated toward his chair, but Eve shook her head, “No, but you are a true gentleman. Thank you, sir. Please sit down.”
She wandered to the glass entrance doors and stood watching needle-fine rain wash the world, feeling as though she was in a border city, hovering between two countries, trapped, lost and utterly alone.
Two hours later, a new night duty nurse replaced the old. Eve approached the starched-faced woman with crooked teeth and flat gray eyes. Eve knew this type: she was just waiting to be offended. Undaunted, Eve stepped toward her and politely asked about Duncan. She was curtly told that she would be updated when the doctor saw fit to update her, and not before. The nurse finished her declaration with the jerk of a nod, as if to say, “Take that.”
Not to be rebuffed, Eve asked another question. “Does Dr. Ann Long still work here?” Dr. Long was the head of the hospital when Eve worked as a nurse at the old hospital in 1885.
The nurse didn’t look up from the newspaper she was reading. “No,” she replied, flatly.
Eve pressed on, taking a long shot. She wanted to know if the two men who had helped steal Patrick’s wounded body from the hospital back in 1885 were still employed. They would have witnessed her and Patrick lighting the lantern, disappearing and returning to 2017. If she could find those men, perhaps one would know where the lantern was.
“Then perhaps you know of two gentlemen who used to work here: Daniel Fallow and Jacob Jackson.”
The nurse lifted her cold eyes, clearly annoyed. “I have never heard of them. Now, do you have any further questions, or can I return to my work?”
Eve flashed her a broad, media smile. “No, thank you, nurse. You have been so pleasant and helpful. I’m sure your patients love you, as I can see that you are truly a blessing to your profession.”
With that, Eve reversed and walked away, leaving the nurse to fume and mumble curses under her foul breath.
Minutes later, when the front door opened, and Addison stepped in, Eve froze, eyes going wide with disbelief. A breath caught in her throat. She steadied herself with effort and
stepped back. Addison approached, removing his hat. Little beads of rain clung to the shoulders of his black cashmere overcoat and hat.
He pushed a hand through his wavy hair and gave Eve a little bow. Again, all eyes swung to this wealthy out-of-place gentleman. The little group picked up the scent of a possible scandal that they would surely be able to follow in one of the eleven Manhattan and Brooklyn daily papers. Even the starched-faced nurse lifted her head in sudden interest, her hard expression softening as she took in the young handsome gentleman.
“My dear Mrs. Gantly,” Addison said. “I must apologize for the ghastly way you have been treated. I am simply livid at my sister for leaving you in this…” he glanced about with a shake of his disapproving head. “… in this disreputable part of town.”
Eve opened her mouth to speak, but Addison continued on. “I am here to personally escort you home and out of this stain of a place. I would have come sooner, but it took me an inordinate amount of time to pry the truth from Irene. She is a silly goose, I’m afraid, who is always entangling herself in situations from which I must rescue her. I told her that there will come a day when I will refuse to rescue her. I told her sternly that she will be quite on her own.”
He offered his arm and Eve looked at it. She then turned back toward the nurse, who stared back, eyes watchful, jaw set.
Eve raised her eyes to Addison. “Mr. Casterbury, I’m sure Irene told you why I remained here.”
“Yes, of course, and I can assure you, Mrs. Gantly, that it is not of the least consequence.”
“I beg your pardon?” Eve said.
“Whoever that young man is has nothing to do with you or the Casterbury family, and I would not want the Casterbury name to appear in any of the morning papers. Irene has a talent for regularly doing the most scandalous things, and I must step in and stop it. Irene told me that she has already paid funds to help the man, and I think we can leave it at that. The doctors will no doubt restore him to health.”
Eve kept her voice low but firm. “Mr. Casterbury, Mr. Beaumont is quite ill. I would like to wait to talk to the doctor before I leave.”
The Christmas Eve Daughter - A Time Travel Novel: The Sequel to The Christmas Eve Letter Page 12
