Somehow, the thought of their paths diverging made him unutterably sad, and he had to turn his memories back to the piano before he could fall asleep.
***
Dr. Russell had asked Libby to come down to his study, but she arrived before he did, and so she waited. The morning sunlight streamed through the window, illuminating the dust motes in the air—motes that had no business being in any house Mrs. Everett kept, but as the carriages rumbled past on the street outside, the particles found their way in through the cracks and crevices of the house despite the woman’s best efforts.
Finally, Dr. Russell came in and closed the door behind him. “I’m sorry to keep you waiting,” he said, taking a seat and motioning for her to do the same. “I had to step out for a moment to consult on a patient with appendicitis.”
“That’s all right. I wasn’t here long.”
“Good.” He glanced down at his desk and then back up. “I understand from Miss Cantrell that you’d like your patient, Mr. Franklin, to stay here until his parents arrive.”
“I thought it would be a way to care for him while using fewer hospital resources, sir, but if it’s not a possibility, I understand.” She swallowed, her throat suddenly feeling tight. It had seemed like such a good idea the night before, but now, it sounded inconvenient and even inappropriate.
Dr. Russell nodded. “I have no objection. I mentioned it to Mrs. Everett on my way out, and she didn’t mind the idea either. We can move him in this afternoon. However, Miss Green, I do remind you not to become overly involved with your patients.”
“Yes, sir, and Miss Cantrell spoke of it too. I’ll be careful.”
He nodded again. “All right, I’ll look forward to meeting this young man and hearing him play. I’m sorry I was away last night—I understand the impromptu concert was quite a treat.”
“It was very enjoyable, sir.”
“Excellent. Now, I’m afraid I’ve kept you long enough. Hurry in to breakfast before all the good bits of bacon are taken.”
Libby left the study and entered the dining room, slipping into her chair just as the eggs were being passed around. Millie looked at her curiously, but didn’t say anything. Dr. Russell came in a moment later and took his seat at the head of the table, flipping his napkin in the air before carefully tucking it over his white shirt.
“We’re going to have a houseguest for a few days,” he said casually to the room at large. “Mr. Franklin will be staying with us until his parents arrive.”
“That’s wonderful,” Sophie said. “And will he play for us every night?”
“I imagine he would, if we asked,” Miss Cantrell replied.
“But first I need to ask him if he’d like to come,” Libby hastened to add. “I haven’t brought it up to him at all.”
“You mean he might say no?” Sophie pouted. “And here I was looking forward to it.”
“I’m sure we’ll all survive if he decides to stay at the hospital,” Millie said, her tone reproving.
“Well, of course we’ll survive, but it would be more fun to have him around.” Sophie picked up her fork and began to eat.
“Speaking of fun, I’m sure there are other things we could do to liven up the place a bit,” Laura interjected. “What about a small party? As long as it was over by eight, surely that wouldn’t be against the rules of the training program, would it?”
Dr. Russell and Miss Cantrell exchanged a look. “You may throw a small party here on Saturday night,” Dr. Russell said after a long moment. “I emphasize the word small. And there’s to be no alcohol on the premises.”
“Well, of course not,” Laura replied, looking suitably shocked. “I wouldn’t dream of it.”
“All right, then. I leave it all in your capable hands. Oh, and you’re in charge of the food—I won’t have you taxing Mrs. Everett even more. She works quite hard as it is.”
“I love to cook, and would be more than happy to help,” Tess said.
“Please, young ladies, don’t make me regret giving you this permission.” Dr. Russell stood from the table. “If you’ll excuse me, I’m needed back at the hospital. Have a good day, everyone.”
As soon as he left the room, Laura turned to Libby. “Do you think Mr. Franklin would play for us? Even if he wasn’t staying here?”
“I’ll ask,” Libby promised. She was sure that he’d say yes either way, but her greater hope was that he’d agree to move into the house. She didn’t know why that was so important to her, but for some reason, it was.
Class that morning seemed to drag on and on. Libby was anxious to get to the hospital and make all the arrangements, and her mind simply wasn’t where it needed to be. It took Tess giving her a sharp poke in the ribs before she realized Miss Cantrell had called on her to answer a question.
“I’m sorry, Miss Cantrell. I didn’t hear what you asked.”
Miss Cantrell fixed her with a look. “I asked how often a patient’s bed linens are to be changed.”
“Um, well, I think that would all depend on the patient’s condition. If they’re vomiting or in other ways soiling their sheets, that would necessitate more frequent changing, wouldn’t it?” Libby gave a bright smile.
Miss Cantrell shook her head. “That is, of course, logically correct, but not the answer I was looking for. Miss Green, are you with us at all today?”
Libby looked down at her lap, her face hot. “I don’t believe I am.”
“Why don’t you head over to the hospital, then? You’re not getting any good from this class, and as it is, you’ll already need to repeat a full half-hour’s worth of instruction. No sense in making it worse.”
Libby sprang up from her seat. “I’m sorry, Miss Cantrell, but thank you, Miss Cantrell.” She slipped out of the room as quietly as she could, then raced upstairs to grab her things. She begged a slice of bread and some cold meat and cheese from Mrs. Everett, since she’d be missing lunch at the house, then was on her way to the hospital. She couldn’t figure out what was wrong with her, but the flowers seemed more fragrant, the sun felt warmer, and it just seemed like an unusually beautiful day.
Dr. Wentworth looked up in surprise when she checked in to his office. “I wasn’t expecting you this early,” he said. “Nurses usually show up just in time for their shifts, and not a minute sooner.”
“I confess, I have an ulterior motive,” Libby replied.
“Yes, Dr. Russell sent a note asking my thoughts about Mr. Franklin. I gave him my approval for the change in accommodations.”
“Oh, thank you, Dr. Wentworth. I believe Mr. Franklin will be much happier in a more home-like environment. Specifically, one with a piano.”
Dr. Wentworth looked at her curiously. “I didn’t realize he was unhappy.”
“He’s not unhappy per se, but if you could have seen him sitting at the piano last night—well, he was an entirely different person. It was like . . . light radiated from him or something.”
“And you’re certain you haven’t been nipping from the whiskey bottle a bit lately, Miss Green?”
She laughed. “I know I must sound odd, but it’s true. Haven’t you ever noticed that there’s something special about watching someone use their true talent? It’s as though they’ve been touched by the hand of God in some way and are transformed.”
“I believe I recall feeling that way once at the opera,” he replied. “The soprano seemed almost angelic as she delivered her dying aria. I don’t even remember which opera it was, only that it was, as you say, special.”
“Then you know what I mean. I think Mr. Franklin’s spirits will be lifted and he’ll recover much faster if he has regular access to a piano. Did you mention it to him, by chance?”
“No, I thought you’d like to do that yourself.”
She smiled. “Yes, I would. Very much.”
“Well, be off with you, then. That’s your assignment for today—getting Mr. Franklin settled in at Dr. Russell’s house. Tomorrow, however, you’re to be here with me a
ll afternoon. We’ve had too much distraction around here because of Mr. Franklin. One would think there was something extraordinary about him.”
“Thank you, sir, and I understand.” Libby bobbed a quick curtsy before heading out of the office and up the stairs.
On her way, she checked in on Mrs. Hart and Tommy. They were both asleep, curled up on Tommy’s bed, looking peaceful. The nurse on duty told Libby that there hadn’t been any more seizures, for which Libby was unspeakably grateful. Poor little boy, having to endure something like that.
Once again, when Libby reached the men’s ward, she found Nurse Walters there chatting with Lewis. Gracious, did the woman have no other patients? A glance around the room told Libby that there were certainly enough men to choose from.
“Hello, Nurse Walters,” she said brightly as she approached. “How are you today?”
“Oh, Miss Green! Hello!” She seemed a little taken aback. “I wasn’t expecting you until later.”
“Yes, well, here I am. Early and unexpected.” Libby pasted a smile on her face.
“All right, then. I’ll . . . leave you to it.” Nurse Walters walked away, and Libby turned to Lewis.
“I didn’t mean to interrupt your chat,” she began, but he raised a hand.
“It’s all right. So, what does bring you in so early today? Not that I’m complaining, mind you—I have to admit, you’ve become the sunny spot in my rather gray existence.”
“That’s sweet.” Libby, suddenly shy, rubbed the toe of her shoe on the back of her other leg. Why was she reacting this way? It certainly wasn’t professional, and of course she knew better than to let his compliments fluster her. “I do have a reason for being here. Tell me, how do you like hospital beds?”
“Hospital beds? They’re all right, I suppose.” He looked confused, and she smiled. It would be a better surprise if he didn’t know what was coming next.
“I’m sure you’re tired of yours, though,” she continued.
“It’s true that I’d rather be in my own room at home, but I don’t have any complaints, really.”
“Well, what if I told you that Dr. Russell and Dr. Wentworth have given their permission for you to come stay at Dr. Russell’s house until your parents get here?”
“I . . . beg your pardon?”
She flopped into the chair next to his bed, not caring how it would look to anyone who might be watching. She’d be ladylike later. “I saw how much you enjoyed playing the piano last night and thought you might want to have more opportunities like that. On a regular basis.”
He shook his head. “You arranged all that? I may come and stay at the house and play whenever I like?”
“In a way. We study in the mornings, so those would be off limits, but as soon as we were done, the parlor would be all yours.”
“How . . . how can I ever thank you? Of course I’ll come. I’ll come this minute, if that’s all right.” He swung his legs over the edge of the bed and felt for his shoes.
She laughed. “Yes, that’s exactly why I’m here—to help you get resituated. I’m so glad you’re coming, and so are the other girls. They want to hear you play as often as possible, and Laura is throwing a party on Saturday and wonders if you’ll play for it as well.”
“Absolutely. Libby, thank you.” He reached out, and she took his hand. “I’m almost tempted to bless that fire for bringing me into your path. You are making this whole ordeal bearable.”
“But if it weren’t for the fire, there wouldn’t be an ordeal,” she pointed out.
He paused. “True. But nevertheless, thank you. You are a genuine gift to me.”
Libby opened her mouth to reply, but just then, a man in the next bed called out, “Nurse!”
She glanced his way and saw that he was gasping for air. Almost before she had a chance to think, she was at the medicine cabinet and grabbing the chloroform. She ran to his bedside, but couldn’t find a cloth or any other available fabric, so she yanked off her apron, doused it with the liquid, and held it to his nose and mouth.
“Nurse Walters!” she yelled out. “Nurse Walters!”
Lewis stood from his bed. “Is there anything I can do?”
“Yes, actually. Come over here and help this man hold his arms above his head.”
Lewis did as he was told, feeling his way over to her.
Nurse Walters scurried into the room, carrying a lunch tray, which she set on a table. Then she joined them. “Miss Green! What on earth are you doing with the chloroform?”
“I’m making his bronchial tubes relax so he can breathe.” Gracious—how could Nurse Walters not know that?
“But you’ll put him to sleep unnecessarily!”
“No, I’m holding the fabric loosely so he’s still receiving pure air as well. I’ve seen this done several times, Nurse. It’s an effective remedy for an asthma attack.”
“But how do you know this is asthma?”
Libby took a deep breath. “Nurse Walters, we don’t have time to stand here discussing it. Please go fetch this man’s doctor.”
The woman pressed her lips together, then nodded once and left the room. Libby shook her head. What ignorance—the patient’s immediate wellbeing was the first priority, not having a chat about it.
Lewis still had a grip on the man’s wrists. “His skin feels warm to me,” he said.
Libby placed her free hand on the patient’s forehead to check his temperature. “You’re right. That indicates some kind of internal infection.” She glanced around, trying to find his chart, but didn’t see one. “Do you have any idea what he was being treated for? You’ve been visiting with the other patients, haven’t you?”
“I have, but this fellow came in just a little while ago, and I didn’t have the chance to introduce myself.”
Dr. Saul crossed the floor just then, Nurse Walters right behind, and Dr. Wentworth just a few steps behind her. “Report,” Dr. Saul barked.
“Patient called out and I saw that he was struggling to breathe. I’m administering faint whiffs of chloroform while Mr. Franklin holds his arms to elongate his rib cage. Patient has a fever, my guess is one hundred and two, indicating an internal infection. At first, I thought it was asthma, but because of the fever, I now believe he has bronchitis with complications, perhaps pneumonia.”
“It’s not your place to diagnose the patient, Miss Green. Your place is to report the current status of said patient.” Dr. Saul placed his stethoscope to the man’s chest. “Raspy, stuttering breathing, definitely worse than when he was admitted.” He scowled. “Well, aren’t you going to write that in his chart?”
“I don’t have his chart, Dr. Saul.”
He scowled even more. “You don’t have his chart?”
“It’s here, Dr. Saul.” Nurse Walters handed it to him. “I hadn’t quite finished it when it was time to bring around the lunch trays. It was on the desk in the next room.”
“In the next room? Then how did Miss Green arrive at the conclusion that this patient has pneumonia when I only diagnosed him with it an hour ago? She must have read the chart—there’s no other explanation.” He turned to Lewis. “And you, sir—get back in your bed. Nurse Walters will take over from here.”
Dr. Wentworth cleared his throat. “Do you mean to say, Saul, that you don’t believe Miss Green could have properly diagnosed this patient?”
“Of course not. She’s a nurse, and a student at that. She’s not a doctor.”
Libby ducked her head. All she’d done was react to the moment—she’d never meant to create a scene.
“And do you mean to say that a nurse can’t possibly put two and two together to arrive at the correct answer without reading the patient’s chart? It seems to me that she treated this patient’s ailment in the best possible manner, considering the circumstances.”
The man’s breathing did seem to be easing up, but Libby wasn’t about to point that out.
“I admit, she did well. Dr. Russell’s training may be paying off. However,
she did overstep her boundaries, and that will never do—not in this hospital or anywhere else in the nation.” Dr. Saul gave a sharp nod, as though that was the end of everything.
Dr. Wentworth returned the nod, then addressed Libby. “After you’ve gotten Mr. Franklin settled, please come back and see me.”
She nodded. “Yes, sir.”
Moving quickly, she gathered up all Lewis’s things and shoved them in his bag, then led him from the room. She didn’t want to become embroiled in another discussion with Dr. Saul, so she didn’t speak as she readied everything, but he was now bent over his patient anyway, and was distracted. Neither she nor Lewis spoke until they were outside the hospital, and then she exhaled loudly.
“That . . . was something else,” he said. “I thought you acted brilliantly. Why couldn’t that doctor understand?”
“It’s difficult to explain,” she replied as they started down the sidewalk. “Women aren’t respected in this field. We’re to do as we’re told, and nothing more.”
“But if you had waited for his instructions, what would have happened to that poor fellow?”
“I don’t know. Thankfully, I didn’t wait, and so we don’t need to worry about that.”
“I guess I never thought about it before, but I didn’t realize that nurses struggle so much to be recognized. I thought you went to school and studied and earned the right to hold your heads up wherever you go.”
“In an ideal world, yes, and most of the doctors are fair and reasonable. There are just some, though, who make things difficult. Here we go—duck under this tree branch.”
“I think I’m memorizing this route—that branch is definitely familiar.”
Libby led him the rest of the way to the house, where Mrs. Everett took over and showed him to his room. Libby was glad of that—she wasn’t familiar with that part of the house, and it seemed a little too personal, showing him to private quarters. The hospital was different, with several men sharing one sleeping area, and no chance for Libby and Lewis to be alone together even if that was their intent.
Touch of Tenderness (Nurses of New York Book 3) Page 6
