“Filming went great today, Gracie,” he said, looking down at her.
She grinned. He smiled in return and lifted her high into the air.
“Great I say. This movie is going to change everything. Everything.”
She let out a tiny giggle and he laughed aloud at her expression. Her eyes opened wider as he spun about again and her little legs kicked at the gown covering them.
“You like that, don’t you?” he asked.
Taking her giggles as an answer, he jiggled her about while walking through the living room and into the kitchen.
“Look who is awake,” he said, gently grasping Grace’s hand and making it wave at Helen.
“I heard the two of you laughing,” Helen said, wiping her hands on a towel as she stepped closer.
Grace was cute when she smiled, with her chubby cheeks and twinkling eyes, but Helen—she was beyond cute. She was beautiful. When she smiled, her face lit up. Those magnificent eyes shone like nothing he’d ever seen. She was like nothing he’d ever seen.
She touched the tip of Grace’s nose. “Laughing up a storm, that’s what you were doing. Laughing up a storm.” Looking at him, she asked, “Do you want me to take her?”
“No.” He gestured toward the sink behind her. “I’d rather hold her than do dishes any day. But we’ll stay in here and keep you company.”
Her cheeks turned pink. “I wasn’t expecting you to do the dishes.”
He could stand here looking at her all night and never stop enjoying it. That wasn’t like him. There had been a woman or two who had turned his head, but never held his attention like she did. “Then tell me, how would you do dishes while taking care of her?”
Her smile was laced with slyness as she turned and walked back to the sink. “I have my ways.”
He sat down in a chair and propped Grace on his thigh. “You do, do you?”
She laughed. “Yes, I do.”
The sound of her laughter was as entertaining as Grace’s. Like music. He huffed out his own laugh as he watched her return to the task. “Doing the dishes was always my job.”
“While you were traveling with your family?” She washed at a speed he’d never seen before, placing each item on a towel covering the counter.
“Yes. There were never as many as you have there. We only had the one frying pan and a few plates and bowls.”
Using a second towel, she started drying the dishes and putting them in the cupboard, again with speed and preciseness. “If your mother didn’t cook, who did?”
“Me.” He hadn’t thought of the meals they’d eaten along the road in years. Mainly because he hadn’t wanted to. The past was in the past. “There wasn’t all that much cooking to it. It usually was either eggs or potatoes.”
The way she looked at him out of the top of her eyes reminded him of the glasses on his desk. The ones he’d known she hadn’t needed even before accidently stepping on them.
“Why potatoes and eggs?” she asked.
“Because they are easy to steal in the middle of the night, and easy to carry while running when someone woke up and took chase.” He hadn’t thought about that in years. Him and Joe racing out of gardens and chicken coops. He laughed. “Plenty of eggs got broken in those escapes.”
She was shaking her head, but smiling.
He shrugged. “It’s the truth.”
Laughing again, she said, “I don’t doubt it is.”
He did his best to look shocked. “It’s that easy for you to believe I was a thief?”
Her eyes narrowed thoughtfully for a moment before she snapped the towel, folded it neatly and draped it over the edge of the sink. “You really aren’t a very good actor, are you?”
Laughing along with her was as natural as walking. In fact, he hadn’t felt this relaxed, this normal, for a long time. “No, I’m not.”
She held out her arms to Grace who had become strangely fussy and rosy cheeked. “Here, I’ll go change her.”
Jack handed over Grace. “Another job I’ll gladly let you handle.”
He stayed in the kitchen while she carried Grace into the other room, glancing around. Everything was put neatly away. Actually, everything was sparkling clean.
She must have been cleaning all day. He’d been thinking about her all day, wondering what she was doing, if she was scared, still worried about the police. She’d been scared this morning. Truly frightened stiff.
“Jack! Jack!”
A shiver rippled his spine at the urgency in her voice.
Chapter Eight
Helen’s heart was pounding so hard it hurt to breathe. “Feel her forehead. She’s running a temperature.”
Jack reached into the drawer and touched Grace’s forehead. “She doesn’t feel that warm.”
“Yes, she does,” Helen insisted, fearing the absolute worst. “It’s tuberculosis. I know it is.” She grabbed Jack’s arm. “I know it is. The doctor said it could happen.”
“What could happen?”
“Tuberculosis!” Her eyes stung as tears fell and she couldn’t catch her breath. This couldn’t be happening. She’d been so careful. So cautious. “No. No.” Air was catching in her lungs.
“Hey.” Jack took ahold of her upper arms. “Breathe,” he said close to her face. “Catch your breath.”
Helen tried to suck in air and push it out, but it hurt. Everything hurt. “She could die!”
“She’s not going to die.” His hold on her arms tightened. “She’s fine. She’s not even crying.”
“She’s running a temperature!” All the things she’d witnessed with Vera flew through Helen’s mind. “She can’t go to a sanitarium. Can’t.”
“She’s not going to a sanitarium.”
“That’s what they wanted to do to Vera. Why she had to stay hidden.”
“Vera?” He shot a glance over his shoulder at Grace. “That’s what her mother died from? Tuberculosis?”
She saw the concern in Jack’s eyes. Everyone knew how widespread tuberculosis had become. It was an epidemic. And awful. The amount of suffering that she’d witnessed Vera enduring flashed in her mind. A baby couldn’t survive that. “Yes. They wanted to put her in a sanitarium. She was afraid of what would happen to Grace.”
He pulled her forward and his tight hold lessened some of the hysteria that had been consuming her.
Laying her head against his chest, she absorbed some of his strength. His calmness. “She was afraid they wouldn’t let Joe take Grace if that happened. That Grace would be confined to one her entire life. It’s in her letters to him.”
He grasped her shoulders and stepped back enough to look down at her.
There was concern in his face, and understanding. Everyone knew that when a child entered a sanitarium, they rarely left.
“Let’s not jump to conclusions,” he said. “I know a doctor. I’ll go call him. Have him come look at Grace.”
The doctor is who wanted to put Vera in the sanitarium. Would have insisted if she’d had the money that required. “But what if—”
Jack shook his head. “We aren’t jumping to conclusions. Dr. Baine is an excellent physician. I’ll be right back.”
It wasn’t until she heard the door close that Helen realized Jack had softly kissed her forehead before he’d let her go and left. She touched the spot then, flustered at focusing on such a small thing, dropped her hand. She couldn’t think about things like that, about herself, not with Grace sick.
Lying in the drawer, looking around, Grace certainly didn’t appear ill, yet, as Helen laid her hand on the baby’s forehead, her suspicions were once again confirmed. Grace was warmer than usual. She hadn’t been earlier. Could the signs of TB show up that quickly?
She had read all the pamphlets the doctor in Chicago had given her, but her mind was muddled now. TB had been declared a national
epidemic, with sanitariums the only hope for those infected. Vera had read the pamphlets too, and from the moment Grace had been born, she insisted the baby be kept away from her in order for Grace not to contract the disease.
Helen lifted Grace out of the drawer and held her close. Pressing her lips to the baby’s forehead, she could feel the heat even more intensely. Her fears reignited and she started walking, pacing the floor and praying.
It felt like hours before Jack returned.
Helen hurried to the bedroom doorway.
“The doctor is on his way. How is she? Getting worse?” he asked.
A sob stuck in her throat as she said, “No worse, but no better. She’s still warm.”
He put an arm around her and steered her toward the sofa. “Let’s go sit down while we wait for him. How long was Vera ill?”
“I don’t know. She was very ill when I met her. It was the end of February and very cold. I thought that was why she was ill at first.”
They sat on the couch. He kept his arm around her and felt Grace’s forehead with his other hand. “When was Grace born? What date?”
“March eighteenth. She’ll be four months on the eighteenth of this month.”
“You’re sure Vera had tuberculosis?”
“Yes, the doctor who delivered Grace confirmed it. He insisted Vera and Grace go to a sanitarium, until he learned that she didn’t have any money.” She glanced up at him. “They require enough money for a burial before they’ll admit anyone.”
He nodded. “I know.”
Helen drew in a deep breath. Vera had been adamant about not calling in a doctor because another one had already suggested she go to a sanitarium. But Mrs. Amery had called one in, declaring Vera was too weak to deliver Grace without assistance. “After he’d learned she didn’t have any money, he told me to get some bleaching powder to wash the handkerchiefs Vera used for her cough and to not let Grace near her.” Helen ran a knuckle under Grace’s chin. “I did that. Relentlessly.”
“I’m sure you did.”
Helen closed her eyes as regret filled her. Why did it appear that everything she did was wrong? Right down to this, taking care of Grace.
By the time the doctor arrived, Helen was not only convinced Grace had tuberculosis, she was convinced the doctor would verify she was the worst person to be in charge of the baby. He’d be right too, in more ways than one.
Fighting back tears, she handed Grace over to the gray-haired man who carried her into the bedroom and closed the door.
“She’ll be fine,” Jack said, once again laying an arm around her shoulders. “He’s good and thorough.”
Whatever resolve she might have left dissolved. She would have fallen if Jack hadn’t put his other arm around her and held her tight.
“You’re worrying too much,” he said, resting his chin on the top of her head.
Helen wrapped her arms around his waist and held on to him with all her might. She’d been on her own for so long, and even while knowing her burdens couldn’t ever be shared, she was so thankful to not be alone right now.
He was still holding her when the doctor opened the bedroom door.
Her legs grew weaker and her stomach clenched. There were no telltale signs on the doctor’s face. He wasn’t smiling or frowning, merely standing in the open door, looking at them.
“You two can come in now,” he said.
Jack guided her forward into the bedroom. Gracie was on the bed, looking around as if everything in the world was normal and right.
Helen sat on the edge of the bed and pressed a hand to Grace’s forehead. It was still warm. She glanced up at Jack, letting him know her findings.
He laid a hand on her shoulder while asking the doctor, “Is it tuberculosis?”
“No.” The doctor smiled brightly. “All in all, you have a very healthy little girl. I can tell she’s had excellent care.”
Helen’s relief was tenfold of any she’d ever known. For a moment. Glancing up at Jack first, then the doctor, she asked, “Then why is she running a temperature?”
“I’d estimate she’s about four months old, isn’t she?” Dr. Baine asked.
“Yes, almost,” Helen answered.
“Let me show you.” The doctor leaned over and gently pulled Grace’s bottom lip down. “See this, how her gum is red and slightly swollen?”
“Yes,” Helen replied wondering what could have caused that.
“She’s getting her first tooth,” Dr. Baine said.
Helen looked closer into Gracie’s mouth. “She is?” She’d read about that in the book, but it hadn’t said anything about that making Grace ill.
“That will make her run a temperature?” Jack asked.
Helen glanced up at him, wondering if he’d read her mind as she lifted Grace off the bed.
“Yes, a low one. Nothing to be concerned about.” The doctor clasped his bag shut. “Some babies run temperatures, some don’t. There is no real rhyme or reason to it. She might be fussy for a few days, until the tooth comes through, or you may just suddenly notice it. Same with all her other teeth. Keep a spoon in the refrigerator and let her chew on that. It’ll help.”
“I will,” Helen answered, thankful for the suggestion.
“You’re sure about the tuberculosis?” Jack asked.
“As sure as I can be without further tests.” Dr. Baine’s expression grew serious. “You know for sure she was exposed?”
“Yes,” Jack answered. “In Chicago. Her mother died from it shortly after giving birth to her.”
A full frown pulled the doctor’s brows down as he looked at her. “You aren’t her mother?”
A different sort of fear rippled Helen’s spine.
“No, she’s not,” Jack said. “I mentioned on the phone that Grace is Joe’s daughter. Helen brought her out here to me after Grace’s mother died.”
“Where is Joe? I’ve wondered what happened to him,” the doctor asked.
“Florida, I think.” Jack laid a hand on Grace’s back. “What further tests?”
The doctor’s expression said he understood as clearly as Helen did that Jack hadn’t called him here to talk about Joe.
“As you know, Jack, Los Angeles has one of the most prestigious sanitariums in the nation. The best treatment people can receive. They’ve also made progress in the diagnosis of TB, as well as prevention. There’s a test I could give Grace. It’s noninvasive, little more than a skin prick, and will let us know if she has contracted the disease for sure.”
“Then give it to her,” Jack said.
“I can’t here,” Dr. Baine said. “You’ll have to bring her to the hospital and then back again two days later so we can read the results. It’s fairly new, but the results have been excellent. Very accurate. It’s also on the expensive side.”
Helen bit her lip, but Jack didn’t blink an eye.
“When should we bring her in?” he asked.
“Tomorrow morning, say nine o’clock?”
“We’ll be there.” Jack held out his hand. “Thanks for coming over so quickly.”
Dr. Baine shook Jack’s hand. “My pleasure.” He nodded toward her. “Nice meeting you, miss, and Grace.”
Helen had no idea how to express her sincere gratitude. “Thank you.” She snuggled Gracie closer to her chest. “Thank you so very much.”
The doctor patted Gracie’s back. “You’re very welcome. I’ll see you in the morning.”
Helen nodded. She’d go anywhere, do anything for Grace.
“I’ll walk you out,” Jack said.
The doctor picked up his bag. “Good, you can tell me about your next picture show. I’ve heard rumors it’s going to be shown in that new theater being built downtown and I’m already looking forward to seeing it.”
“It’s not a rumor.” Jack slapped the doctor on th
e shoulder. “You’ll be invited to the premiere.”
As the men left the bedroom, Helen pressed her lips to the top of Grace’s head and let the relief completely wash over her. She’d been frightened before, scared, but never like this.
The full implications of all that had happened slowly seeped in. By the time Jack appeared in the doorway, her nerves were back to jittering beneath her skin.
* * *
Jack stopped in the doorway to the bedroom, simply looking at Helen and Grace. Concern for others came naturally to him, but it had been ages since he’d been this alarmed. He’d been as worried about Helen as he’d been about Gracie. Cared as much about her as he did his niece. How that had happened in such a short period of time was unimaginable. He could understand it with Gracie, she was Joe’s daughter. Family. Of course he’d care about her, and tuberculosis was no baloney. It had killed more people than World War I. And still was.
“I’m so sorry,” Helen said.
He leaned a hand against the doorframe. Right now, it would be safer for him to keep his distance. Those eyes of hers did things to him. He could read them like a script, and feel her emotions deep inside. Not reacting was impossible. Which is what he’d done earlier. Hugged her. Held her. He couldn’t do that again. There was too much at stake. Not just to his reputation, which is what he’d explained to the doctor while asking him to keep Grace’s identity under wraps. But to him. He wasn’t just responsible for Joe’s messes now. He was responsible for them. To them, Grace and Helen.
“So sorry.”
“For what?” he asked, pressing his hand harder against the doorframe.
“Everything.” She looked down at Grace. “Overreacting. I didn’t know teething—”
“I didn’t, either, but now we do.” She looked so sad. So forlorn. Not hugging her, not trying to offer something to make her feel better would soon be impossible. “And after the tests, we’ll know even more. I’ll go put a spoon in the refrigerator like Dr. Baine said.”
He drew a couple stabilizing breaths on his way to the kitchen, but if they helped, the relief had disappeared when he shut the refrigerator door. Helen was standing there. Holding Grace and looking like she needed more than a hug.
Baby On His Hollywood Doorstep (Brides 0f The Roaring Twenties Book 1) Page 9
