Down in the Valley

by Jane Shoup

  “James Werthing, but call me Jack. And this is my sister, Charity.”

  “Hello,” she said, offering a slender hand.

  He shook it. For a moment he was stymied by her presence. She looked at him very directly, as if drinking in every nuance of his person. “I’m so glad you’ve come,” Emmett said, finding his voice. “Let me take you on out to the farm so you can see Tommy.”

  “The trunk,” Charity said to her brother.

  “I’ll see to it,” Jack said. “Won’t be a minute,” he said to Emmett, and he hurried back toward the train.

  “I’ve never met a woman doctor before,” Emmett commented as he put his hat back on his head. “Is it a common thing in the East?”

  “I don’t think it’s common anywhere yet,” she replied pleasantly. “But give us time.”

  “Well, the world’s changing every day,” he returned.

  “The man who was shot. Is he family?”

  “In a way, he is,” Emmett replied. “It’s an interesting story.” Already Jack Werthing was coming back, leading a young man who carried a trunk. “I’ll tell you and your brother about it on the way.”

  Em finished what she could of her dinner, then rose and picked up her plate.

  “Leave it,” Doll said.

  “Thank you.” Em started back to Tommy’s room, but Doll caught hold of her arm, stopping her.

  “Nuh-uh-uh,” the older woman chastised, shaking her head. “No, ma’am. You haven’t left that room for ten minutes straight. Go take a walk.”

  Em opened her mouth to object, but Doll practically shoved her out the door. “Go!”

  “Doll, I don’t wa—”

  “And don’t you come back before you’ve had a decent walk,” Doll interrupted. “Or, so help me, I’ll send you right back out again.”

  Em gave in with a frown and a sigh. She walked outside and rolled her shoulders, wondering what luck Howerton and his men were having finding Blue. She wanted to know what Mitch’s friend had been doing on their land. She needed to understand.

  She walked until she reached the road. Staring at their sign, she recalled the moment Tommy had first laid eyes on it. And when he saw the sweater she’d knitted for him. When he flung the scarf around his neck. When he put the pearl necklace on her and then laid his hands on her shoulders. She became so immersed in the memory that she didn’t realize someone had come up behind her until she felt a presence there. She turned to see who it was—only no one was in the road. A tremor of shock passed through her and goose bumps broke out all over her body. “Ben?” she whispered, suddenly certain it had been he she’d felt.

  Tommy looked at Ben. “Why doesn’t she see me?”

  “She doesn’t see me, either,” Ben explained. “She just felt me for a moment.”

  “But why doesn’t she feel me?” Maybe it was stupid, but he felt hurt. No one loved her more than he. Why didn’t she know he was there?

  “I have more practice,” Ben replied teasingly with a wink.

  Tommy shook his head, aggravated. “It’s not funny.”

  “You’re jealous of a damn ghost, son. It is kind of funny.”

  Tommy drew breath, but didn’t know what to say to that. Nor did it matter since Ben had started back to the house.

  “Besides,” Ben called over his shoulder. “You and I aren’t in the same place at all. I told you that. I’m just visiting for a spell.”

  The man made no sense, but it didn’t matter. Em started back to the house, as well, and she looked so tired. More than tired, she looked completely drained. It made him sad. In fact, he could feel her fatigue.

  “Tommy!” Ben called sharply as he whirled back around to face him. “You can’t do that!” He started back toward Tommy, but Tommy felt as if he was being drawn backward at the same rate of speed. Ben stretched out an arm toward him. “Keep fighting!”

  Tommy knew something was happening. He felt weaker than he ever had before in his entire life. It was as though he was fading, disappearing.

  “Tommy!”

  Em heard Jeffrey’s call of distress the second she opened the back door. Her heart gave a painful jolt and she ran full out.

  “Oh, no, no,” Jeffrey cried. “Damn it! Help, y’all! I think he’s—”

  “Tommy!” Doll yelled.

  Em saw Wood and Hawk rushing toward Tommy’s room from the opposite direction, looking as panicked as she felt. She was going so fast, she nearly careened into the doorjamb. Tommy was too white and too still.

  “Oh, Jesus,” Jeffrey wailed. “He . . . he—”

  “No,” Em breathed. She bolted forward, and the others moved out of her way. She sat on the bed and gathered Tommy up in her arms. “Tommy!”

  “Jesus himself must just have heard you, son,” Wood exclaimed breathlessly, yanking back the curtain. “I see ’em coming! Hawk, run and get them!”

  “The doctors?”

  “Yes, the doctors! Go!”

  “Stay with me,” Em begged, her lips moving against Tommy’s ear. “Please, please, please stay with me.” She was only vaguely aware of Hawk yelling. Of Doll’s hand on her back. Of the palpable fear in the room. I love you. She had to put her full heart, her entire being, into willing Tommy to live. Love was supposed to be the most powerful force on earth, even more powerful than death. I love you. I love you. I love you.

  “I see them, Emmy,” Wood reported. “They’re coming. Running like it was their own kin!”

  “Don’t leave me,” Em whispered, blocking everything else out. She rocked slightly and he moved with her. He didn’t feel dead because he wasn’t dead. He wasn’t dead and he wasn’t going to die. She loved him too much and he loved her. Love is the most powerful force in the universe. More powerful even than death. She could will him back from this. He had saved her. He had made her life worth living. And she would save him. Her love, their love, would save him. “Love is the most powerful force in the universe, more powerful even than death,” she whispered in his ear. “Believe it. Believe it!”

  “Emmy, honey,” Doll said. “Move back.”

  Em’s grip tightened. She heard footsteps and she knew she had to let go, but she couldn’t do it. She had to keep holding on. She had to keep him alive. “I won’t let you go,” she whispered. “I won’t.”

  “Em, let the doctor in,” Wood insisted, pulling at her.

  The words penetrated. Trembling, nauseous with fear, Em released her hold, and two people, a man and a woman, pressed in, the man on her side of the bed, the woman on the far side. Em rose and stepped back.

  “He just went,” Jeffrey blurted. “One second he was breathing and the next—”

  The man reached inside a black leather bag and pulled out a stethoscope. The woman felt the side of Tommy’s neck and shook her head slightly. Em crossed her arms in front of herself. She didn’t want to faint, but she was dangerously light-headed. She felt Doll brace her. “You stay strong, now,” Doll said in her ear.

  The man put the instrument on Tommy’s chest. “There’s a beat,” he said after listening for a moment.

  They were the three best words Em had ever heard and she nearly collapsed with relief.

  “Stay strong,” Doll urged, giving her a hard squeeze.

  The man withdrew and the woman began rubbing Tommy’s chest aggressively. Back and forth, rocking his prone body. “Em—” the woman said. “Come talk to him.”

  Em felt jerky and strange as she went back to Tommy’s side, perching on the edge of the bed to stay clear of the doctors’ efforts. “I’m here,” she said, taking hold of his hand and pressing it to her heart. “Keep fighting.”

  “Has he revived at all?” the woman doctor asked.

  “No,” Doll said, “but once we heard him say Em’s name.”

  “I’m Charity Werthing,” the woman said as she continued to rub Tommy’s chest. “And this is my brother, Jack.”

  “Physicians from Philadelphia,” Emmett reminded them from the door.

  Em
closed her eyes and tried to find Tommy’s mind to connect to. These people have come to help. Hang on. Please hang on. She was aware of the conversation going on. Doll was saying, “We’re grateful you’ve come. This man means everything to us.”

  “Have you gotten him to take any liquid?” Jack asked.

  “Not much,” Wood replied. “We tried.”

  “We can help with that,” Jack said.

  Em looked over as he withdrew a coil of flexible tubing from his bag.

  “How?” Doll asked.

  “Intravenously,” he replied.

  “It means entering by way of a vein,” Charity explained as she sat on the bed and positioned Tommy’s arm on her leg.

  “Is that something new?” Wood asked nervously.

  “No,” she replied quickly. “Although there have been improvements of late. It’s perfectly safe,” she added reassuringly.

  “Actually, it was fifty years ago or so that the concept was conceived,” Jack said conversationally as he walked around to the other side of the bed. “A doctor by the name of O’Shaughnessy made a breakthrough in the midst of a cholera epidemic after analyzing blood samples of victims and discovering that dehydration was primarily to blame for the majority of deaths.” Jack pulled a bottle of clear liquid from his bag, shook and then studied it.

  Charity doused a cloth in alcohol and used it to clean the skin of Tommy’s inner arm. “Intravenous replacement of the deficient salt and water saved thousands of lives, and that’s what we’re going to do for Tommy.”

  The smell of the alcohol assailed Em’s senses and she watched Charity’s nimble hands with dread fascination.

  “So,” Wood said, “that’ll keep him from wasting away until he wakes. Is that right?”

  “That’s exactly what we hope to accomplish,” Jack replied as he handed his sister tubing with a sharp, needlelike end on it.

  “So that’s just water?” Jeffery asked. “You’re gonna put water right into his vein? That don’t hardly seem right. I thought it was only blood runs in veins.”

  “But blood is made up of certain components, including water and salt,” Jack replied.

  Charity seemed to ignore all the talk as she lightly slapped the inside of Tommy’s arm repeatedly. “I’ve got a good vein,” she said under her breath. A second later, she stuck the needle end of the tubing into Tommy’s arm. “Trocar’s in.”

  Jack attached the tubing to the bottle and the liquid snaked through it to Tommy’s arm. “Will you hold this, please?” he asked Wood.

  Wood quickly stepped up and took the bottle and Jack began setting up a stand. He took the bottle back from Wood and attached it to the stand, and every eye was riveted.

  “You have any thoughts on how we can revive him?” Wood asked.

  Jack took a breath before replying. “To be perfectly honest, in large part, the brain is a mystery to us. Tommy could wake up in an hour or tomorrow or next week.”

  Or never. No one said it, but the word hung in the air.

  “He’s got the best heart,” Wood said, “and a wife he loves like you can’t even believe, and he’s going to be a father. He’s so looking forward to that.”

  Charity wrapped a bandage around Tommy’s arm to keep the tubing in place. “A man’s will to live counts for a lot.”

  Jack cleared his throat quietly. “The fact of the matter is, our father suffered a similar injury.”

  Shock reverberated around the room. “He was shot in the head?” Doll burst out.

  Em looked at Charity, her mouth agape.

  “Yes,” Charity replied evenly, compassion evident in her blue-gray eyes. “In almost the exact same location as Tommy.”

  Em’s throat felt painfully tight, but she had to know. “Did he live?”

  Charity hesitated. “I’m sorry to say he didn’t.”

  Em didn’t feel as if she were crying, and yet cold tears trickled down her face.

  “But he was thirty years older than Tommy,” Charity added, reaching across to lay a hand on Em’s arm.

  “He was also wounded in the shoulder, which worsened the situation,” Jack said. “There was too much blood loss.”

  “Jack and I learned a great deal caring for him,” Charity added.

  Em nodded stiffly and wiped her face.

  “It’s why we knew we had to come when we read Mr. Rice’s telegram,” he added.

  The room was uncomfortably silent for a moment.

  “Perhaps,” Jack said, breaking the silence, “if we could examine Tommy in private. We’ll catheterize him, and—”

  “They’ll what?” Jeffrey muttered.

  He’d only been heard because the room had gone so quiet. “I think I know,” Hawk said quickly. “Let’s go.” Jeffrey quickly followed him from the room.

  Emmett cleared his throat. “You got coffee on, Doll?”

  “Don’t I always?” she asked testily as she walked out.

  Wood seemed reluctant to go. “That’s to, uh—”

  “The catheter drains his urine,” Jack replied. “Someone must have spent quite a bit of effort keeping him clean.”

  “We didn’t mind,” Wood replied quickly. “We didn’t mind at all. When Doll said he’s important to us, that was an understatement.”

  “This will make things easier,” Charity spoke up. “It’s also better for him.”

  “I see,” Wood replied. “Well, then.” He cleared his throat and then left.

  “You can stay, of course,” Charity said to Em. “We routinely ask others to leave to preserve the patient’s dignity.”

  Em nodded. Both doctors were on the right side of the bed, so she remained on the left as Jack Werthing inserted a tube into Tommy’s penis. She looked away, clutching his hand tightly. She loathed having his privacy and dignity invaded. He didn’t deserve it. He didn’t deserve any of this. Was it her? Her and her curse? Had she done this to him?

  Next, they examined the head wound.

  “It’s clean,” Charity said.

  “The bullet is still inside,” Jack noted.

  “Will you try to get it?” Em asked, her stomach tight with dread.

  “No,” Jack replied without hesitation. “Not at this time, anyway. Brain surgery usually does more harm than good. We’ll see if he comes back around in the next day or so and then assess what the effects of the bullet are.”

  There was a light rap at the door.

  “Yes?” Charity called.

  Doll opened the door. “I have food ready and your rooms and all. Whenever you’d like. No hurry, but whenever you’re ready. And if there is anything you need, anything at all, you just pick up that bell on the table and ring it.”

  “Thank you,” Jack said. “We’re finished here, for now, so we’ll be right there.”

  Doll looked at Em worriedly, and then shut the door again.

  Jack inspected the tubes once more and then looked at the clear bottle of liquid. “He’s taking it,” he said with satisfaction.

  Charity leaned over to look at something at her feet. “The catheter is working, too,” she reported.

  “Do you have any questions, Mrs. Medlin?” Jack asked.

  Em shook her head numbly.

  “We’ll do all we can for him,” he said. “We can see how important he is to all of you. In fact, I’ve rarely seen a comatose patient so immaculately—”

  Charity shot him a look. “Yes, he’s so smoothly shaved and clean,” she said.

  Em nodded shakily. “We didn’t want him to wake to . . . to h-hair on his face. He always shaves.”

  Charity nodded and smiled.

  “Hawk does it. Every morning. He hasn’t cut Tommy once.”

  “Well,” Jack said. “I suppose we’ll have something to eat and settle in. Charity?”

  “I’ll be there in a minute,” she replied. He nodded and left the room before she spoke again. “How’s the nausea?”

  “I’ve never had so much,” she admitted. The doctors didn’t need to waste time and
concern on her, but she could tell Charity wasn’t one to give up. In different circumstances, they might have become close friends.

  “That’s perfectly normal. May I examine you in the next day or so?”

  “Honestly, I’m fine.”

  “I’m sure you are, but I am here. We’ll do everything we can think of for Tommy, but it won’t take our every minute. Are you eating enough?”

  Em shrugged a shoulder. “I’m not hungry, but everyone’s watching. What I eat, when I eat,” she added drolly.

  Charity grinned. “Annoying, is it?”

  Em blushed. “I shouldn’t say that.”

  “I understand. You have quite a family.”

  Em nodded. “Yes, we do. It’s because of him,” she said as she lovingly stroked his arm. “Everything is because of him.”

  “Emmett shared some of Tommy’s story with us,” Charity confided. “He sounds like an extraordinary man. And strong.” She paused. “Strong enough to survive this. It is possible.”

  Em pressed her lips together and fought tears.

  “The sleep he’s in, the coma, it’s a mysterious thing. As mysterious to us as the brain or even the soul. We don’t yet understand it, not as physicians. But as a woman—”

  Em looked at Charity.

  “—I believe that this state Tommy’s in, this coma, is nature’s way of protecting him. He may appear to sleep, but his body is trying to heal.”

  Em’s eyes filled and spilled over. “Thank you,” she whispered.

  Charity nodded. “So, I’ll examine you tomorrow. Make sure everything is fine?”

  “I’d appreciate that.”

  Charity looked at Tommy again and then rose and left.

  In the silence that followed, Em lifted Tommy’s hand to her lips and kissed it. “You’d like them,” she said softly. A shiver came over her because of her blunder of tense. “You will like them,” she corrected herself. “You will, I mean.” She kissed his hand again. “You will.”