by The Lady
“The patient should never be allowed to exert himself in the least, for anything that will give the heart extra work is to be avoided.”
Ella would take care to keep Holland as comfortable as possible. She’d also look closely for a developing rash.
Settling lower, she took one last sip of tea. Her gaze flashed over the rim of the cup and she remembered the dark look Dr. Penske had given Holland’s father. The way he’d avoided him.
“I don’t know, why? Is he gonna think I’m a criminal?” Charlie had asked.
She thought back to earlier in the winter when a sailor had come in, an imprint of an anchor on his shoulder. The doctor had treated the man poorly indeed. Told the staff of a study he’d read declaring that such markings were an easy way to identify felons since they were most often obtained in jail. He’d cautioned the nurses to take care with such unsavory characters.
Ella thought back to Charlie and the black script that went from his wrist to the base of his sturdy thumb. She thought on the gentle protectiveness he had for his little girl and tried to make sense of it all. Then she glanced at the clock, and seeing she was but a quick sleep away from the start of her next shift, she rose, crammed the curtains closed against the light, and slipped back into bed.
C H A P T E R 3
__________
The five blocks from Ella’s apartment to Dr. Penske’s hospital felt long indeed on this cold afternoon as she walked toward the converted townhome with its white sash windows and wrought iron flower boxes. While only a few flakes of snow fell today, heavy fog made it hard to see up the road. The scent of soot hung in the air as a distant train whistle blew, and on the nearest corner, a man with a political badge pinned to his coat was rallying a crowd. Ella ducked her head and hurried across the street.
In hand she carried her wooden box of herbs and medicines, and if Dr. Penske granted permission, several to use for Holland. Though the hospital surely stocked everything she had in her small latched case, Ella hoped the offering might ease some of the fees between Charlie and the doctor.
She spotted Clara standing on the top step of the sprawling porch, adjusting her little white nursing cap. “Everything all right?” Ella asked as she stepped onto the sidewalk.
“I’m watching for the ambulance. I thought I heard it coming.”
Ella listened for the wagon but only heard a ruckus from somewhere upstairs. “What’s going on?”
Voices rose one over the other from the third floor windows.
Clara threw her a glare. “I’m sorry that his little girl has a cold. But it doesn’t mean he has to shout.”
“Who?”
“That man!”
“Which man? What’s happened?” Ella moved to the bottom step, already afraid of the answer.
“The one with the baby. He’s up there terrorizing the place because they’re sending her home.”
“Home?”
“Her temperature went down.”
“It’s meant to fluctuate.” Ella hurried up the front stairs.
“She’s fine,” Clara called after her.
Ella ran into the foyer, then started on the carpeted flights that led to the top floor. Her pulse raced in her ears as she rounded the corner of the children’s ward only to see the room in a tizzy. From the far corner, she could hear Charlie shouting. And Holland wailing. A sound so choked, so terrified, that Ella could scarcely breathe.
“It goes down sometimes and then it comes right back up!” Charlie said. “Her fever did it the day before. And the day before that. Which is why I brought her here.”
“What’s going on?” Ella asked a nurse who hefted a spindled chair down the aisle way.
“Some rough men came in early this morning, got treated for blistered hands, then split before they could be billed. Took whiskey from one of the cabinets. Doctor’s furious. Is certain they were with the circus, so he asked the man with the baby to pay up front and he can’t.”
Mouth gaping, Ella picked her way to where Dr. Penske stood toe to toe with Charlie. Holland was pressed to Charlie’s chest, her wails scratchy, his dark trench brushing his boots.
“I didn’t even know those men! If you just give me a few minutes, I can get money wired through the bank. I have an account in New York and one in New Orleans.”
“Oh, I’m sure you do.” A lock of Dr. Penske’s hair fell limp across his brow. “Get out of my hospital.”
“You can’t do this!” Charlie shouted.
“Oh, yes, I can!” the doctor yelled back.
With a growl, Charlie stomped to the bed, grabbed Holland’s things from the bedside table, then barreled down the aisle. He seemed to notice Ella for the first time, and in passing, the rage in his eyes shifted to brokenness. Holland, curled up against his chest, tugged at her ear as if it hurt, her cries all that lingered as he disappeared around the bend.
Ella rushed up to Dr. Penske. “Has her fever broken?”
He pulled off his spectacles and used the edge of his coat to wipe the eyepieces. “She’ll be just fine. I gave her father instructions—no different than what’s been done for the girl here. There’s little to do for a simple fever. A bit of time and comfort is all that she needs. Trust me.” The side of his mouth quirked up. “We’re doing him a favor by sending them on home.”
“But she may have Rheumatic fever!”
“Are you a physician now?”
“She had the makings of it last night. Aches. And her throat. All the signs—”
“Did you read about that in one of your books?” he snapped.
“Did you check her this afternoon?”
“She’s fine. We need these beds for patients who have dire injuries and can actually pay for their care.” His glare followed Charlie’s path, voice low. “The last thing we need here is some gutter-rat illness. The pair of them can go back to whatever hole they crawled out of.”
Jaw open, Ella backed away. Heart pounding. His gaze flicked to the box she held then back up. Dr. Penske eyed her sharply and she took another step and then another.
“What are you doing?” he asked.
Truly, she didn’t know.
“Walk out that door, young lady, and you will no longer have a position here.”
Her chest heaved as she stared at the man. She’d worked hard for this position. A job many wanted, and she’d managed to get on staff.
But all she could think of were Holland’s cries. The possibility of Rheumatic fever and the damage it would do to her heart if left untreated. Ella took another step back.
“I mean it, Miss Beckley.”
She nodded slowly. Glanced around the ward at the small faces—thinking of one. No…two.
Holland. And the tiny boy she hadn’t had the power to save. But this time…
The decision snapped into place and Ella hurried out, fearing Holland was long gone.
Down the stairs and into the fog, she glanced up the street, having no idea where the two had headed. She closed her eyes, trying to recall what the poster had said of the circus’ location. Just past Campbell. Three blocks from her apartment. She dashed down the street, scurrying around a coal and coke wagon, then over a puddle and up on the other sidewalk. Holding her skirts, she rushed over the slushy walks. Brick buildings loomed all around, and even among the chilly shadows, her skin warmed from running.
She turned the corner and hurried across a quiet, snow-dusted road, then spotted a man in the distance. As tall and wide of shoulder as she remembered Charlie. Ella called his name.
He glanced back without slowing—flashing the profile she now knew.
Reaching him, Ella was breathless as she peered up into grief-stricken eyes. He held his coat tight around the shivering baby. Ella hadn’t realized they’d stopped in front of one of the grocers until a woman bustled out and nearly dropped her bundles. It was the same blushing fumble that had plagued several of Dr. Penske’s nurses the last two days. But Charlie didn’t seem to notice the woman’s awed stare as he
peered down at Ella.
“What are you doing here?” His brow knotted.
“I want to help you.”
His forehead pinched tighter.
She looked at the seven-month-old whose tiny face peeked out from the folds of his collar, eyes closed—asleep. Tears had dried to her cheeks.
“I think I know what might help her.” Ella motioned for him to walk on.
He did, peering sideways at her. “You want to help her?” His gaze fell to the box of medicines she held.
“I’ll need to come with you.”
“Now?” he said it with uncertainty. As though she didn’t mean it.
She hesitated. “I have some time today.”
Swallowing, he looked the way they had come, then where he was headed. As if she’d just asked him to break the law, he gripped the back of his neck. Squeezed his eyes closed. Indecision hung heavy until he peered down at her again. “Okay.” Such a simple word and then he quickened his pace, glancing back just briefly.
The fog rolled cold over her as they hurried along. The blocks passed in a blur. Oft-walked streets now obscuring in mind. All she could see was the determined shape of Charlie’s shoulders as he towered ahead, dark coat nearly dusting the street beside his thunderous boots. He spoke to no one and no one spoke to him.
A chill settled around her, and then Ella spotted a trio of massive flags whipping in the wind. Blurred by the thick fog, more like ghosts of flags. Charlie walked toward them and Ella almost tripped over her feet at the sudden burst of a voice.
“Ey! Charlie, love. Where’ve you been all my life?”
Ella’s head shot up. Charlie passed through what had to be the circus entrance as it was flanked by two booths, one inhabited by that strange female voice.
“Practicing my card game,” Charlie said distractedly as he opened a low gate.
“Aw, you still sore about that?”
It was then that Ella spotted a large woman who nearly filled the entire booth. She had a cigarette held by her ear, hair pulled back in a wild bun. Fiery rouge on her cheeks. Above loomed a banner that read Graven Brothers Circus.
“Not so fast, missy. Who do you think you is?” The woman held a wooden baton out and Ella slammed to a halt, staring at a forearm as pale and thick as a mound of dough.
Charlie halted. “She’s with me, Lorelai.”
“None of that nonsense, now. I’ll have no strange women about. Not on me grounds.”
“Lorelai, she’s a nurse. She’s come for Holland.”
“She bett’a be.” The woman’s face softened when it shifted to Charlie. Her baton lowered. “Aw, but me Charlie-boy’s a good lad. Give us a kiss, love, and I didn’t see nothin’.”
Charlie kissed a painted cheek in passing. “You’re too good to me.” He held the gate open for Ella who swallowed the pulsing that had shot into her throat.
“Give ’olland me love,” the woman said. Then she eyed Ella sharply.
Charlie walked backwards and the woman blew a kiss toward the baby who had stirred awake. He spun back down the path, his pace resuming its force. Ella skittered over the thin traces of muddy snow to catch up just as a pair of men hanging a sign threw a wave to him. Her town—her world—but a memory now.
“Are we opening tomorrow?” Charlie called.
“Yep!” one of the men bellowed before glancing toward the giant, striped tent in the distance. “Not likely for a blowdown now!”
Charlie nodded at that even as he steered around a painted cart. A bit too quick and Ella nearly crashed into it, her nose inches from a peeling painting of two frowning clowns. She bit back a yelp and hurried to keep up.
Strange voices greeted Charlie all around. One man hollered out a “G’day, Preach!” while a gentleman pushing a wheelbarrow full of straw asked after “wee Holland.”
A few moments later, Charlie stopped in front of a Gypsy wagon with a green, rounded top. A woman was there—light brown skin stunningly beautiful, long black hair draped with a colorful silk scarf. Ella stayed clear of the sign advertising palm readings for five cents while he swapped a coin in exchange for a jar of milk. The woman pocketed his money with a wink, said something in a language Ella didn’t understand, then strode up the steps of her wagon and disappeared behind a beaded curtain.
A goat bleated a farewell as Charlie continued on.
“You know a lot of people here,” Ella said, hoping it might calm her nerves and just to make sure he knew she was still following him. Or maybe he’d forgotten.
He spoke without slowing. “Is there a reason I shouldn’t?”
A hunched man with a monkey on his shoulder crossed in front of their path. Charlie slowed, but suddenly focused on a nearby worker leading a brown bear on a leash. Ella didn’t notice Charlie had halted until she’d crashed into him. He looked back, expression unreadable.
“Um…sorry.” Ella swallowed hard and fought the urge to rub her nose.
Charlie went to take a step then lifted his arm and looked at his sleeve. Ella realized she was clutching onto it for dear life.
She quickly let go.
“Are you all right?”
“Oh, yes,” she squeaked eying the beast of a bear. This was perfectly normal. Just your everyday kind of outing.
He rolled his eyes and started on faster than the beating of Ella’s heart as she rushed to keep up, cold to the bone and utterly alone except for this man who she didn’t know. The wisdom of this choice was starting to feel very thin.
“Mr. Lionheart…Charlie…I…”
He cast a look over his shoulder as they crossed over a small decorative bridge. Her face must have been flooded with angst because he stopped.
“Is something wrong?” he asked, glancing around. Spotting a crowd of laborers, he turned his back to them, ducking his face closer to Ella as if to keep their presence here as subtle as possible.
“I just…where are we going?”
“Home—to lay Holland down. Which is this way. I need to get her inside.” His nerves were showing. “And quite frankly, you as well.”
“Me?” Did he sense that she wanted to turn around and flee? Go home and shake the mud of this place off her shoes? A part of her did. But then she glimpsed the tiny face peeking out of Charlie’s coat. His arms wrapping the tiny form as best he could. Ella looked into little blue eyes brimming with tears.
Tipped her chin up. “Never mind.”
“Home’s just over there.” He pointed to one of the plain, canvas tents in the foggy distance.
“That’s where you live?” she breathed, not meaning to say that aloud.
He spared a curious glance. They walked on a few paces, her heading into a tent with a man whose conduct she didn’t know. What if it were just the two of them in there?
“You don’t live…alone…do you?” Her voice was high.
He didn’t seem to hear her as he halted in front of a wagon that held wedges of wood. Charlie bartered with the wagon owner for a few pieces, promising to return within the hour to fetch them. Then he motioned for Ella to walk on.
Her question still unanswered, Ella tried a different approach, desperate for some kind of insight into his character. “Where do you leave Holland? When you’re working.”
“Do you think I leave her alone?”
“Of—of course not.”
Charlie glanced back at the wood, then to Ella. “She stays with a woman who lives with me. Her name is Regina.”
Nearly tripping, Ella envisioned the Gypsy lass who had this man. But before another moment passed, she was hit by the shock of what he had just alluded to.
Her gaze flew to him as he wove around the nearest tent. How much was different for this bohemian people and their moral compass? When she didn’t respond, his green eyes flashed back to her. Lingering.
“Regina,” he said, clearly seeing that he was going to have to elaborate. “She’s a costume mistress. I share my tent with her, my wagon. I take care of her. And in exchange, she tends to H
olland as though she were her own.”
“Are you saying that this woman living with you is not even the child’s mother?”
The side of his mouth lifted. “No.” He looked amused. “She’s not the child’s mother.”
Ella wet her lips. He hesitated a moment as if trying to read her expression. His own was horridly unguilty.
He pulled a hand forward through his cropped tangle of hair. “Does this bother you?”
“I…” She gulped, unwilling to acknowledge what it did to her. The cold wash of memories that spread within as she stood before a man who clearly had no regard for women. So stiff, lifeless words slipped out instead. “It’s certainly frowned upon.”
He stopped in front of a tent. The opening was tied closed and he worked on the first loop. “You don’t say?” He loosened another.
She ignored his sarcasm.
“People can frown all they want then.” His voice fell to a whisper as he freed the third. “It’s not their life. Besides, Regina…she means a lot to us. To me.”
“All right.”
“I need her.” He straightened. “And Holland adores her. They’re good together. Do people care about that?”
“I…don’t…know.”
“Then don’t bring them into it.” He yanked back the flap and motioned Ella in.
“After you.” Her sharp tone matched his.
He slammed his eyes closed a moment. “Look. I’m sorry to be so short, but I could get in trouble for this. Do you understand?”
“Because of me?”
He nodded, and by the look he flashed, it was more than a little trouble. “It’s against the rules.”
“You have rules?”
“Every time I say something you ask me another question.” He quickly glanced around. “Can we just get inside? Please. I’ll tell you whatever you want, inside.”
His gaze raked her and she wondered how she—five foot five in a gray nurse’s dress with puffy sleeves and sweating palms—could possibly hold a threat to him.
Ella clutched her box close and followed him in.
Surrounded by nothing but white canvas, dim light seeped through, making the makeshift room bright.
