The enticing warmth of her skin overwhelmed his senses. He rifled through his memory for a benign image, settling on a diagram of the hand from his medical text. Scaphoid, lunate, triquetrum, pisiform, trapezium. He laid her hand flat against the box. Trapezoid, capitate, hamate . . . Perspiration glazed his palms. “We’ll get a better image if you spread your fingers a little.” He pulled away. “Try to hold as still as you can.”
She gazed at him, brows lifted and lips parted.
Stepping backward, Robert collided with a rolling metal cart loaded with equipment, sending a cascade of loose items clattering to the tile floor. “Who left this sitting here?” He heaped the objects onto the cart and thrust it into the corner, the action steadying his nerves.
Why had he brought her here? When had he become such a grandstander? He shouldn’t be using the equipment for mere entertainment.
Robert reached for the controls, glancing over his shoulder to where Miss Fischer stood facing him, arm in position, her smile practically glowing in its intensity.
“Hold your breath.”
She blew out a puff of air with a laugh. “What do you think I’ve been doing all this time?”
The tension in Robert’s chest eased as a chuckle escaped his lips. “Let me know when you’re ready.”
She glanced down at the table and back to the equipment hovering above. “You’re sure this doesn’t hurt?”
“Does it hurt to get your picture taken?”
“Depends on the photographer, I suppose.” She took a few deep breaths. “All right. I’m ready.”
“Don’t move until I tell you.” He reached for the switch. “Here goes.”
The hum of the machinery never failed to make Robert’s heart race, but this time it stole the very air from his lungs. Miss Fischer’s skin gleamed under the cerulean glow radiating from the Crookes tube. She was simply the most beautiful woman he’d ever seen—in any light.
Robert leaned against the counter. If only it were a real camera, he’d keep the portrait close. With regret, he cut the power to the X-ray machine. “All done.”
Miss Fischer pulled her hand from the table and wiggled her fingers. “I didn’t feel a thing. When will I see the results?”
Robert reset the machine for the next procedure. “I’ll make a print to show you tomorrow, but I can’t let you keep it. Hospital property and all.” He smiled. Plus, I have no intention of parting with it.
September 18, 1905
Abby shifted in the hard hospital chair, gazing at Cecelia as she slept. Two patients chatted in the neighboring beds, the scent of breakfast—oatmeal, toast, and coffee—lingering in the air. The morning sun shining from the far window emphasized Cecelia’s new rosy complexion.
The rapid pace of her recovery had taken everyone by surprise. Almost every physician in the hospital had stopped by in recent days to witness the dramatic changes. Abby and her parents alternated being at Cecelia’s side for as many hours as visiting rules allowed. Abby vied for the morning shift, to help Cecelia before and after the treatments and to be nearby when the doctors made their rounds.
Gerald frowned as he sauntered into the room, his gaze scanning a handful of papers.
Abby’s throat squeezed at her cousin’s expression. “What’s the matter?”
He glanced up, eyes glazed as if not seeing her. A moment passed before he shook his head. “Nothing. Nothing at all. All good news, in fact.” His brows pulled together, a tiny crease forming between them. Gerald glanced back at the papers.
Abby stepped forward and touched her cousin’s elbow. “Then why the troubled face?”
His demeanor softened. “I’m having trouble accepting these numbers. Such a radical improvement in a few short weeks. It’s a great deal to take in.”
She swiped at his arm with her palm. “Don’t scare me so.”
The seed of joy planted in her chest three weeks ago was rapidly maturing and sprouting fruit. “I prayed for a miracle. And it’s what we’ve received.”
He nodded. “I believe in miracles. I suppose I shouldn’t be surprised to witness one.”
“What miracle?” Cecelia’s voice croaked from the bed.
Abby hurried to her side. “I’m sorry. We didn’t mean to wake you.”
Cecelia cleared her throat. “How can I sleep when you two keep fussing?” She reached for the water glass resting on the tray near the bed. “Where’s Robert?”
Gerald’s brows lifted. He shook his head. “Robert, eh? I need to keep an eye on my young friend. He’s apparently charmed the entire family.”
“He is definitely charming.” Cecelia took a sip of water and shot a pointed glance at her sister.
Abby gripped the bed railing. “It’s his intelligence saving you, not his charm. He’s passionate about the science of modern medicine.” A flush crept up her neck.
Cecelia returned the glass to the table and relaxed back against the pillows. “I thought you said it was God’s miracle.”
“Right.” Abby bit her lip. “God’s doing this. I believe it.”
“Do you?” Cecelia’s eyes glinted.
Gerald folded the papers and slid them into a coat pocket. “I’ll leave you ladies to debate divinity versus science. Dr. King will be here soon to take you down for the next treatment, Cecelia. We’ve decided to double your radiation again. You’ll be spending even more time in the lab, I’m afraid.”
Her brow furrowed. “Double it? Why? You increased it last week.”
Abby lifted her hands to her chest. “I thought you said the therapy was working?”
“It is. But now the cancer is retreating, we want to make sure it doesn’t try to come back.” He leaned over the bed and touched Cecelia’s chin. “We may actually be able to give you a full life.”
Abby couldn’t fight the smile spreading across her face. She grasped Gerald’s arm. “You’re a miracle worker. You and Dr. King.”
Cecelia pursed her lips. “Only God makes miracles, Abby.”
“But He’s using them to do it.”
“What are we doing?” Dr. King pushed a wheelchair into the room.
Abby breathed a sigh of relief that the conversation had turned away from the young doctor’s charms.
Gerald put an arm around Dr. King’s shoulder. “You’re working miracles, Robert, and taking Cecelia in for an extra serving of X-ray fun.”
Chuckling, Dr. King held his hands in front of him. “Let me warm up my fingers. They need to be ready to hit the button and release the magic.”
Abby brightened. “Can I come? I enjoyed seeing the lab last time. I’d love to watch one of Cecelia’s treatments. Maybe I can help.” She gripped the bedpost to steady herself. The words had sprung from her lips before she’d stopped to consider them. I need to stop following him like a stray dog.
Gerald frowned at his assistant. “You took Abby to the lab?”
The younger man’s face reddened. “Only a quick tour.”
Abby stared at her feet, rather than risk Cecelia’s inquisitive glance. No doubt, she’d be interrogated later.
Gerald’s brows lifted, his gaze darting between the two ladies. “I see. No wonder my cousins are enjoying your attention so much.” He turned toward Abby, face somber. “I suppose there’s no harm. Just stay out of the way.”
“Of course.”
Gerald focused on his assistant, eyes hooded. “Come by the office when you are finished. We need to talk.”
Robert helped Cecelia onto the table, adjusting the white sheet—blinding under the glare of the electric lights—around the young woman’s emaciated frame. He struggled to concentrate on the patient, rather than the lovely creature hovering at his elbow. The chilled basement air, like a crypt, did little to stem the fine sheen of sweat dampening the back of his shirt.
“What can I do?” Abby’s breath tickled his neck.
He set his jaw, sucking in air through gritted teeth. “You can stand back.” How would he concentrate with her here?
&n
bsp; She jerked away. “I’m sorry.”
Cecelia smiled. “Robert’s done this a hundred times. He knows what he’s doing.”
Robert’s resolve melted at the sight of Abby’s red-tipped ears, her arms wrapped around her slim waist. “Come with me.” He motioned her over to the controls.
She followed, lagging behind several steps.
Robert pulled out the stool from the control panel. “Please, sit.” He took Abby’s elbow, guiding her to the high seat. He pointed at the dials and switches. “Would you like to know how these work?”
Her eyes widened as she tucked the brown skirt under her legs. “Yes, please.”
He gestured to the dials on the left. “These control the radiation settings. When we’re taking an X-ray image, we keep the levels at a minimum—say a one or two, depending on what part of the body we’re examining. We’ve been elevating your sister’s levels progressively and keeping records of her reactions. She’s up to an eight-point-five today.”
Abby’s lips thinned. “Is that safe? Can they go too high?”
He straightened to full height. “It’s perfectly safe—as long as we keep an eye on the numbers and don’t leave her under the lights too long. I’ve rigged a timer.” He pointed to another dial. “It will shut the machine down if you go beyond the safe limits.”
He fiddled with a few of the knobs. He’d adjusted them before bringing the women into the lab, but it never hurt to look efficient. “You have to be careful to keep the coils the right distance from the body or you can end up causing deep tissue burns. Gerald and I test them daily.”
“How do you test them?”
He pressed his hands into his pockets. “On ourselves. If we weren’t one hundred percent sure of the safety of the equipment, we wouldn’t trust it with our patients.”
“Very admirable.”
“Shall we double-check the settings? I’ll read the numbers, you check the dials.” He pointed at the row of knobs. “From left to right.” He pulled open the notebook and flipped through the pages. “One-point-six, two, eight-point-five, eight-point-six . . .” He rattled off the series of numbers, glancing over Abby’s head as she touched each knob with a smooth-tipped fingernail.
A yawn from the direction of the table encouraged him to pick up the pace. Completing the checklists, he took the controls and finished the treatment while Abby observed.
Returning to the cancer wing, Robert stood back as Abby settled her sister back into the hospital bed. She nestled a plump pillow behind Cecelia’s shoulders and tucked in the edges of the sheet, like a mother would for a child.
What a wonderful nurse she would make. Such a tender touch. Hairs lifted on Robert’s arms. He pulled his gaze back to the medical charts, marking the treatment details in Cecelia’s records.
Abby straightened, a line pinching between her brows. “Is she supposed to be this pink?”
Robert stepped to the bedside, a knot forming in his stomach.
Cecelia shifted on the pillows, pressing a hand against her flaming cheek. “Why is it so warm in here?”
Robert grasped her wrist, sliding back the long sleeve of her dressing gown. The tender skin of her inner arm blazed crimson, warm against his fingers. Replacing the sleeve, he lowered her arm against the mattress while his thoughts raced. “Looks like a slight burn. I’ll have a nurse come in and give you a cool bath.”
Plastering a reassuring smile on his face, Robert excused himself and hurried out to the nurse’s station. After giving careful instructions to the duty nurse, he checked his pocket watch and strode toward Gerald’s office.
Abby’s voice caught his attention. “Dr. King?”
The young woman clutched a novel to her chest as she hastened to catch up. “Will Cecelia be all right? Did I do something wrong with the dials in the laboratory?”
The concern in Abby’s eyes tugged at his heart. “No—I mean, yes, she’ll be fine, and no, you didn’t do anything wrong. I checked the levels myself, twice. It’s only a slight erythema.” He paused, searching for a better explanation. “The redness is like a mild sunburn. It’s nothing to worry about.” Besides, Gerald will worry enough for all of us.
Abby sighed, the air rushing from between pink lips as she pressed a gloved hand against her heart. “I thought maybe I was to blame. Trouble seems to shadow my footsteps.”
“The coil might have malfunctioned. I’ll replace it tonight.”
The lines smoothed from her face. “Thank you for letting me sit in on the treatment. I am grateful for everything you have done for my sister.”
Warmth radiated through him. “Not at all, Miss Fischer. You were an excellent assistant. In fact, I was thinking what a wonderful nurse you would be.”
She lowered her eyes, running fingers along the spine of the book. “I’m much better with plants. I can graft a fruit tree and prune branches, but I could never do this sort of work.”
“It’s not so different, if you think about it. If you’d like, you can help me again tomorrow.”
She lifted her chin, eyes shining. “Really? I’d love to.”
A rush of electricity raced through his limbs, her smile intoxicating. He glanced back to Cecelia’s room. “Are you staying?”
She shook her head. “No, Mama is with her now. Cecelia seems particularly tired after today’s treatment. I thought I’d take the cable car home.”
Robert glanced to the window—sunshine poured through the glass, the temperature in the hall rising with each passing minute. He could do with some fresh air. And a few more smiles.
“May I see you home? Gerald left his automobile here. I could drive you.”
Abby’s lips parted, eyes growing large. “Well, I don’t—”
“I know—let me take you to lunch. There’s a man with a lunch cart at Golden Gate Park who makes the best steak sandwiches.” His pulse quickened. A sunny sky, a lovely companion.
Her face paled, dark eyelashes standing out against her light skin. “I’m not sure.”
He stepped closer. “It’s the least I can do after your help this morning.”
She blinked, glancing down at her feet. “I suppose it would be all right.”
A smile spread across his face, the wearying day forgotten. He thrust out his arm, swallowing the moment of elation before he got carried away. “Shall we?”
Abby hesitated a moment before weaving a hand through the crook of his elbow, a tentative smile stealing the tautness from her face.
They were boarding the cable car before Robert remembered Gerald’s request. He owed his friend—his boss—an apology. Robert glanced down at Abby’s fingers resting on his arm, his chest swelling in response. The apology can wait.
9
Abby lowered herself to the ground, resting her back against the tree trunk and tipping her head until she could stare up into its leafy heights. The soft breeze lifted the wisps of hair escaping from her bun and sent them fluttering into her face. Brushing them from her eyes, she pulled in a deep breath, the scent of the bay tickling her nose. How long had it been since she’d breathed easily?
Abby pulled off her gloves and ran her hands across the soft grass stems as if she could pull their life into her tired body.
“I’ve never seen you look more content.” Dr. King strode across the open expanse balancing two paper-wrapped bundles an arm’s length from his suit jacket. He plopped down next to her. “I wasn’t sure what you wanted, so you’ll have to trust my judgment.”
She smiled. Hadn’t she been doing so since the moment they met? Abby unwrapped the sandwich and used a cautious finger to lift the bun. “What is this?”
“Steak with horseradish, pickles, onions, and mustard.”
She pressed a hand against her mouth. “You’re jesting.”
He cocked one brow. “Frank makes the best horseradish, pickle, onion, and mustard steak sandwiches in town.”
She lifted the sandwich, wrinkling her nose at the pungent odor. “Let me guess, he makes the only horser
adish, pickle—”
“Don’t make fun until you’ve tried it. Have I led you astray before?” He grinned.
She met his eyes. “No. Never.”
“Of course, you haven’t known me very long.”
“Long enough.” She drew the sandwich to her lips, took a small bite and chewed carefully, the flavors exploding across her tongue. “I remember Papa saying he loved horseradish, but since Mama couldn’t stand the smell, he gave it up when he was courting her.”
“The sacrifices we make for love.” The doctor smiled. “You have sauce on your chin.”
Abby retrieved a handkerchief from her pocket and mopped her face. “It’s sort of hard to avoid, Dr. King.” She tucked the brown paper wrapper under the sandwich. If she added some condiment stains to her favorite brown skirt, she might be mistaken for a steak sandwich herself.
His forehead wrinkled, brows drawing together. “Abby, I’m not your doctor. Call me Robert—please?”
A gust of wind set the grass blades aquiver. She swallowed, the sauce blazing its way down her throat and tingling through her sinuses.
He removed his derby and clutched it against his chest. “Your cousin Gerald is my best friend. I’d like for us to be friends as well.”
Abby glanced down. A ladybug crawled to the top of a tender green stem beside her. “Certainly, if it’s what you prefer,” she dabbed the handkerchief to her lips, “Robert.” Cecelia had been calling him by his first name for weeks already.
The huge smile spreading across his face sent her heart fluttering, like the ladybug as it lifted from the grass stem and winged its way over her head.
“Wonderful.” He held up the remains of his sandwich. “What do you think?” A spot of mustard clung to the corner of his mouth.
Abby’s lips twitched as she fought a smile. If only she knew him well enough to reach over and remove the stain, but the notion gave her gooseflesh. “Delicious. I must confess, I’m surprised.”
Out of the Ruins Page 7
