by Amanda Cabot
Elizabeth reached for a clean sheet of paper and began to take notes. “Did you have trouble conceiving Louis?”
“Not at all. It happened the first month we were married.”
Then it seemed logical that she would have had a second child or even more by now. “Was there anything unusual about your delivery?”
Laura inclined her head. “The midwife thought it was going too slowly, so she gave me something to strengthen the contractions. I can’t remember what she called it.”
“Ergot?” Even as she pronounced the word, Elizabeth hoped she was mistaken.
“That’s it.”
Laura’s smile told Elizabeth she had no idea how dangerous the medication was. “Do you recall how much the midwife gave you?”
“A lot. She said it would help the baby come more quickly, so she gave it to me a few times then, and after he was born, she gave me more.”
Trying to keep her expression impassive to avoid worrying her patient, Elizabeth said, “Some people believe it’s helpful in delivering the afterbirth.”
She must not have succeeded, for Laura raised an eyebrow. “But you don’t?”
Elizabeth’s chair creaked as she leaned forward. “It’s a very powerful medicine. I prefer to use other methods.” Ones that might not have such serious aftereffects. “Would you mind sitting on the table and removing your shoes and stockings? I’d like to examine your feet.”
“All right,” Laura said, her reluctance obvious, “but . . .”
Two minutes later, Elizabeth expelled a sigh of relief. “Everything’s fine,” she said, smiling when Laura giggled as she touched the inside of her arch. The fact that her feet were ticklish confirmed Elizabeth’s opinion.
“What did you expect?”
There was no reason to dissemble. “I was concerned about how much ergot you were given. It can cause permanent damage to the extremeties. When I was studying to be a doctor, I had to amputate a woman’s foot because she’d taken too much ergot.”
Laura shuddered. “Do you think the ergot is the reason I haven’t had another child?” she asked when Elizabeth completed her examination.
“I don’t know. It would be unusual, but I can’t rule it out. Everything else seems normal.”
Squeezing her eyes closed to keep the tears from falling, Laura shook her head. “Oh, Doctor, Lloyd and I want another baby so badly.”
“Have you considered adoption?” Just last Sunday the minister had announced that two little boys had been orphaned and had asked the congregation to pray for them.
Laura shook her head. “Lloyd won’t agree. He says that if God wants us to have a baby, he’ll give it to us.” She blinked back tears. “There’s got to be something we can do.”
Elizabeth wished she could offer encouragement. Unfortunately, she could not. “I’ll do what I can to help you, but I have to be honest. It may take a miracle.”
Elizabeth was still thinking about Laura Seaman and wishing she had had better news for her when she heard the door open again. The softer footsteps told her her visitor was not Jason, and though she would have enjoyed seeing him, Elizabeth’s spirits rose at the prospect of two patients in one morning. The rent for this office was far from exorbitant, almost covered by what Phoebe paid her, but an additional patient or two would make a difference.
A welcoming smile on her face, Elizabeth entered the waiting room, then felt her heart plummet when she recognized the woman who stood by the doorway. Delia. Elizabeth hadn’t seen her since the day she had been practically evicted from Maple Terrace. By now Miriam’s crisis should have passed. There should be no need for a doctor unless . . . Elizabeth didn’t want to complete the sentence.
“Miss Miriam wants you to come.” Delia’s shy smile told Elizabeth her mistress was in no danger of dying. Whatever the reason for the summons, it was not for a final farewell.
“Does Richard know that you’re here?” He’d been adamant that Elizabeth not return while Miriam was under Dr. Worland’s care.
The young maid shook her head. “No, ma’am. He’s gone right now.”
Elizabeth felt the tension that had gripped her begin to subside. Richard’s absence was another sign that Miriam must be on the mend. Elizabeth was certain he would not leave his wife if she were in danger.
“Miss Miriam said it was important,” Delia continued. “She asked you to bring your bag with the listening thing.”
“My stethoscope.”
“That’s it. Will you come?”
“Of course.” Even if it meant defying Richard, Elizabeth would not ignore a patient’s request. And, regardless of what he had said, Miriam was her patient.
It took only a few minutes to cover the distance between Elizabeth’s office and Maple Terrace. Though Elizabeth plied Delia with questions about her mistress’s condition, the young woman would only say that Miriam wanted to see her.
When they arrived, Delia left Elizabeth at the foot of the stairway, then descended to her own quarters in the basement. Though Elizabeth was tempted to take the stairs two at a time, she mounted them decorously, knocking before she opened the door to Miriam’s room. To her relief, normal color had returned to Miriam’s face, and while she appeared thinner than a week ago, she was smiling. There was no doubt that she had survived her bout of diphtheria.
“I’m glad you came.” Miriam’s voice was hoarse, undoubtedly the residual effect of the infection, but it was strong enough to dismiss Elizabeth’s last concerns.
“You look much better,” Elizabeth said after she’d offered a silent prayer of thanksgiving.
“That’s thanks to you. Delia did everything you told her.” Miriam’s hand flew to her throat, and she sent Elizabeth a crooked smile. “It was no fun having her poking around inside my throat, but I’m convinced that’s the reason I’m still alive.” Her smile faded. “Doc Worland wasn’t happy when I refused to let him bleed me. He told Richard it was your fault. I’m afraid you’ve made an enemy, and it’s all my fault.”
“Nonsense. Dr. Worland and I have had differences of opinion from the first time we met, but Cheyenne’s big enough for both of us.” Or so Elizabeth hoped. “What’s important is that you’re feeling better. May I look at your throat?”
“Of course.” Miriam opened her mouth.
Elizabeth depressed Miriam’s tongue and examined her throat. When she was finished, she smiled. “Perfect. The diphtheric membrane is normal.” Laying a hand on Miriam’s forehead, Elizabeth smiled again. “Your fever is gone too. Now all that remains is to regain your strength.”
Miriam nodded. “I wanted to come to your office, but my legs won’t cooperate. They’re still awfully weak.”
“That’s normal. Diphtheria is a serious disease, and it takes several weeks to recuperate. Your baby should be all right too.”
A smile wreathed Miriam’s face. “That’s why I asked you to come today. The most wonderful thing happened. I felt the baby move!”
The young mother-to-be’s enthusiasm was infectious, and Elizabeth’s lips curved upward. “That is definitely wonderful.”
“I want you to listen.” Miriam pointed to Elizabeth’s medical bag. “I want to be sure the baby’s fine.”
When Elizabeth completed her examination, she smiled at Miriam. “As far as I can tell, your baby is perfectly healthy. I’ll come back in a week, just to be sure. After that, you should be able to come to my office.”
Laying a protective hand on her stomach, Miriam looked up at Elizabeth, her eyes glistening with unshed tears. “Thank you, Doctor. For everything.”
Elizabeth was grinning as she descended the stairs. Miriam had survived. Her baby was well. This was why Elizabeth had become a doctor.
“I don’t know how you get any work done here.” Nelson shifted his chair so that he could glance out the window without twisting his neck. He’d already told Jason that Oscar had been placated by the prospect of receiving a quarter of the company shares in the event of Nelson’s death and tha
t Jason should proceed with the incorporation papers, but he showed no sign of wanting to leave.
“What do you mean?” Judging by the amount of time his client spent looking outside, Jason assumed the answer was there.
“If I had a beautiful woman next door, I’d be spending my time with her, not sitting here with old men and dusty law books.”
“Ah, but those men and what’s in the books pay for my food and lodging. No matter how beautiful she is, Elizabeth doesn’t do that.”
Nelson swiveled around and gave him an approving glance. “So it’s Elizabeth, is it? Good for you. I’m glad to see you’re getting acquainted.”
“I’m just being neighborly.” That was not completely true. While Jason believed in being friendly with his neighbors, he had not spent much time with the previous tenant. The grizzled man who’d run the barbershop hadn’t welcomed visits unless they involved a transfer of money. There was no need to tell Nelson that, just as there was no need to tell him that Jason could not forget how good it had felt to hold Elizabeth in his arms. It shouldn’t have mattered so much—after all, he had only wanted to comfort her—but his mind kept replaying the way she had looked at him, as if he were the hero of one of those storybooks the girls at school used to read. Her eyes had been red-rimmed with tears, but they’d sparkled by the time he left. If he closed his eyes, Jason could smell the faint scent of lavender that clung to her and feel the warmth of her arms as they’d circled his back. He could . . .
“Neighborly.” Nelson’s voice snapped Jason back to the present. “I see.” The way his client waggled his eyebrows told Jason he didn’t believe him. “It’s a pity I’m in good health. I wouldn’t mind spending some time with the pretty doctor.” Nelson looked at his feet. His gaze moved to his arm. At last he touched his throat. “That’s it. I’ll pretend to have a sore throat. It’ll give me an excuse to visit your neighbor.” Nelson emphasized the last word. “I wouldn’t mind having that pretty face close to mine.”
Though he suspected that Nelson was teasing him, that he’d somehow realized Jason’s thoughts of Elizabeth were more than neighborly, Jason wasn’t certain. What he was certain was that he didn’t like the idea of Nelson entertaining such thoughts of Elizabeth. “I doubt your wife would approve,” he said as mildly as he could.
Nelson turned abruptly and looked Jason in the eye. “That’s where you’re wrong. Tabitha wouldn’t care.”
12
He had never felt so awful. Jason struggled to open his eyes, instantly regretting the action. Sunlight was flooding the room, its brightness making him wince with pain. But that was nothing compared to his throat. It ached. He closed his eyes and winced again, reflecting that whatever was wrong with his throat was also affecting his brain.
Jason made his living with words. Precise words. But this morning he could find none. Ache was far too mild for what he felt. His throat hurt so much that he could hardly swallow. Though he’d never done it, he suspected this was what it would feel like if he’d attempted to eat a flame. The constant burning sensation was bad enough, but when he tried to swallow, he felt as if there were a huge obstacle lodged at the back of his throat.
And then there was his head. Jason didn’t need one of Elizabeth’s fancy thermometers to tell him it was too hot. Worst of all were his legs. When he’d stumbled into bed last night, they’d felt as weak as overcooked noodles, and they’d only grown worse. Just the thought of trying to descend the stairs made him cringe, but there was no choice. Whatever was wrong was serious, and it wasn’t going away. He needed help.
Forcing himself into a sitting position, Jason glanced around the room. He’d been too weak to remove his trousers before sleeping. At the time, he’d been annoyed. Now he was grateful, for it was one less hurdle to overcome. He was halfway decent. Still, he ought to put on a shirt. He stumbled the few feet to the chair where he’d dropped the shirt, sinking onto it as he grabbed the garment and attempted to dress himself. One sleeve. Good. The second. Excellent. When his fingers fumbled with the buttons, Jason gave up. At least he was covered. All but his feet. The effort of bending over to tug on boots was more than he wanted to attempt.
Slowly, painfully, he made his way to the door, pausing every few feet to catch his breath. When he closed the door behind him and regarded the exterior stairway, his heart sank. The seventeen steps had never been a challenge. Indeed, he’d often climbed them two at a time. Now just the thought of having to descend made him wonder if it might not be better to simply stay here.
No. He couldn’t do that. He placed his right foot on the first step, then dragged the left next to it. Gripping the railing like the lifeline it was, he took another step. He was walking like a child, needing to have both feet flat on one step before he attempted the next.
One more. He could do that. Now the next. When he reached the street, Jason staggered to the front of the building, clutching the bricks for support as he made his way past the entrance to his own office. It’s only a few yards, he told himself as he gripped the windowsill. You can do it. He paused, trying to catch his breath while he grabbed the doorknob. Please, let it be unlocked. It was. A second later, he was inside.
“Elizabeth, help me!”
She was there almost before he finished his cry. “What’s wrong?” The scent of lavender was stronger than normal, perhaps because it was early morning and she had just applied it. Jason inhaled deeply, regretting the action as his throat tightened.
“What’s wrong?” she repeated. Her gaze moved swiftly from his unshaven face and half-buttoned shirt to his bare feet. Though she said nothing, Jason saw Elizabeth’s lips tighten.
He kept his back against the wall, his last reserve of energy almost depleted, but something—perhaps foolish pride—made him grin at the woman he hoped could end the horrible burning in his throat and restore his legs to normalcy. “You’re the doctor,” Jason said with what he hoped looked like a smile. “You tell me.”
He must look even worse than he felt, for Elizabeth did not smile. Instead, her eyes were somber as she said, “I’m glad to see you haven’t lost your sense of humor. Can you make it into my office?”
Jason tried. He really did, but all he managed to do was stumble.
Swiftly, Elizabeth put her arm around his waist. “This is no time for pride,” she announced in a tone that brooked no opposition. Not that Jason had any intention of objecting. “Lean on me.”
Together, they shuffled into her office and somehow managed to hoist him onto the long table that formed the room’s centerpiece. Gripping the table edge in an attempt to remain upright, Jason looked at her.
“Can you tell me what hurts?”
“Everything. My head, my throat, my legs.”
If he hadn’t hurt so much, Jason might have been amused by the change in her demeanor. Always in the past, when he’d seen Elizabeth, she’d been a woman who made little attempt to hide her emotions. But now, perhaps because he was seeing her as a doctor for the first time, her expression was inscrutable. Other than that momentary tightening of her lips when they’d stood in the hallway, she gave no sign of her feelings.
She laid a cool hand on his forehead, nodding as she said, “You have a fever. Let’s learn why.” Opening one of the drawers in the nearest tall cabinet, she pulled out a flat piece of wood. “I need you to open your mouth.” When Jason did, she placed the wood on his tongue, depressing it. As the memory of his conversation with Nelson flitted through his mind, Jason wanted to tell his client he was wrong. It wasn’t romantic at all, having Elizabeth examine his throat. It was uncomfortable. Downright uncomfortable. Of course, if his throat didn’t hurt so much, he might feel differently.
“It’s not good, is it?” he said when she’d completed her examination.
“No, it isn’t.” For the first time, Elizabeth’s mask slipped a bit, and he saw worry reflected in her eyes. “You have diphtheria. Do you want me to get Dr. Worland for you?”
Jason looked into her eyes. “Wh
y would I do that? You’re a doctor.”
Half an hour later, having assured herself that Jason was resting as comfortably as possible under the circumstances, Elizabeth locked the front door to her office and hurried home. Gwen needed to know what had happened and what the next week or so would be like, while Elizabeth needed to make preparations for an extended stay in her office. Her infirmary had its first patient, and she was determined that he would have the best care available in Cheyenne. Though her spirits were buoyed by Jason’s faith in her, Elizabeth could not dismiss her worries about his condition. There was no doubt that he had diphtheria and little doubt that his case was more severe than Miriam’s had been.
“What are you doing here now?” Gwen asked when Elizabeth opened the door to the apartment. Surely it was only Elizabeth’s imagination that the words were uncharacteristically brusque and that Gwen did not want her to see the glass in her hand.
Dismissing her concerns, Elizabeth said, “I wanted to tell you that I won’t be back for a few days, maybe a week or more. I have a patient in the infirmary.” When she had designed the office, Elizabeth hadn’t thought it would be occupied so soon, but Jason could not care for himself.
Gwen nodded as she carefully placed her half-filled glass in the dry sink. “I can bring you meals and something for the patient if you tell me what you need.”
It had been Elizabeth’s imagination that something was amiss, for this was the Gwen she knew, always thinking of ways to make life easier for others. “I hate to ask you to go to so much trouble, but it would help.” Elizabeth headed toward her bedroom, planning to pack a change of clothing. “I’m worried about my patient. He has diphtheria.”
“He?” Elizabeth turned as Gwen’s voice rose an octave, a clear indication that she was more than startled. She appeared horrified.
