He turned away, laying both hands on the table. “No.” Robert’s tensed shoulders showed through his shirt as he leaned over the X-ray plates. He faced Ruby, eyes dark. “Abby’s sister was our first cancer patient.”
Ruby took a step back, a metallic taste rising on her tongue. “Abby’s sister? When was this?”
His voice remained low. “Months before the quake.”
“Is it how you and Abby met?”
He nodded.
Ruby gazed at the canvas stretcher, a lump rising in her throat. “Dr. Larkspur—did he begin this research for her sake?”
Robert sighed. “Yes.”
She closed her eyes. What a burden these men carried.
“She improved—for a time. But, like all the others . . .” his voice trailed off.
Ruby ran fingers along her sleeve before turning and facing her brother. “So why are you still trying?”
“Pardon?”
“Why are you still conducting X-ray research? You couldn’t save your fiancée’s sister, your mentor’s cousin.” She gestured to the equipment. “Maybe it’s time to let someone else take over the project. Obviously, this is causing your friend pain—not to mention what Abby must be feeling. Have you thought about what this must be doing to her?”
His brows crumpled. “You don’t understand.”
Ruby crossed her arms. “Perhaps not, but I do know you. When you become fixed on a puzzle, you’re like Otto defending a bone.”
“I’m trying to save lives.” He rapped the table with his knuckles. “I couldn’t save Cecelia. I saw what her death did to Abby and to her family.” His eyes narrowed. “If we give up now, her suffering will mean nothing. We must eradicate this disease. Nothing else matters.”
Ruby stepped up to him. “Even if it costs someone you love?”
Robert didn’t flinch. “God has called me to this, Ruby. I have no choice.”
6
Gerald closed the door and leaned against it. The office remained in shambles, cluttered with stacks of files and records salvaged from the ruins of his downtown office, not to mention miscellaneous pieces of medical equipment—mostly outdated castoffs—donated by hospitals around the country.
His throbbing temples accused him with every beat. He’d come down too hard on Robert, and his friend deserved an apology. Gerald flopped onto the creaky wooden chair and propped his elbows on the desk. With a sigh, he let his head fall forward into his hands. Their work had never been about gaining prestige; the goal had always been to help patients. They still hadn’t saved a single one, and the memory of each loss clawed at his soul like skeletal fingers reaching back from the grave. Cecelia. My own cousin.
He pressed cool fingers against his eyes. Sometimes the halls of the hospital seemed to whisper her name. And her parents and siblings living under his roof served as reminders of his failure. After the disaster, he’d considered starting over, leaving this broken city behind. Chicago, Boston, New York . . . But what would it remedy? Could he walk away from his family?
Gerald drew in a deep breath. Grief and the exhaustion drove him today. He mustn’t let emotions overtake common sense. He lowered his hand to the desk and opened the curled fingers. The burn scar mocked him, defeat etched into his skin. A simple case of X-ray dermatitis shouldn’t continue this long, but there were no signs of infection.
Gathering up the stacks of papers strewn across the desk, Gerald slipped them into a valise and headed for the door. The idea of begging the stolid-faced board for funds wrenched his gut. Perhaps it would be better if the board said no. He could return to patching up broken bones and handing out rheumatism powders. Let someone else cure cancer.
He reached for the door and pulled it open, the metal knob icy against his sore palm.
Robert stood in the hall. “We need to talk.”
Gerald tucked the valise under his arm. “I know. I’m sorry for the way I spoke to you. It was out of line.”
Robert darted a glance back to his sister, waiting at the end of the hall. “No, you were right. I’m passionate about this research. But not for fame or recognition—for Leo and his family and all the others like him. I want to get rid of this disease so no other family suffers like yours and Abby’s.”
Gerald wished he could crawl under the floor tiles. Instead, he forced his eyes upward, meeting Robert’s earnest gaze.
His friend lowered his voice. “I understand you’re hurting. We both thought Leo might be the first . . .” Robert ran a hand across his chin, frowning. “Who am I kidding? We’ve thought each of them would be the first to survive. Otherwise, we wouldn’t be in this business. Would we?”
“No.” Gerald sighed. The young man leaning against the doorframe had come so far from the naïve student prodigy Gerald had taken under his wing five years ago. And yet, he hadn’t lost an iota of his zeal. What happened to mine?
Robert cleared his throat. “I’m coming with you.”
Gerald stepped back. “To speak to the board? Why?”
“There’s no need for you to face them alone.”
“You don’t think I can handle them?” Gerald pulled the watch from his vest pocket, checking the time.
“Don’t choose words for me.”
“You think you could do better? Impress them with fancy research papers? Robert, we’ve got nothing. No clear-cut results, no hard data to support our claims. Do you think you’re going to march in there and woo the money from their pockets? This is about medicine, not slick talk.”
Robert’s face darkened. “Which is exactly why I need to go. You’re ready to give up. If you go see the board like this, we’re finished.”
Gerald shouldered his way past, clutching the leather case to his chest. “Don’t forget who’s in charge of this project.”
Ruby Marshall met them halfway, her rose-colored skirt a welcome bit of color in the drab hospital hallway. She held a straw hat in her hands, draped with dried flowers.
In his weary state, Gerald could no longer keep his gaze—or his focus—where it belonged. Her smile fractured his thoughts.
“Did Robert tell you? We’re coming along.”
Gerald’s throat tightened. “Both of you?” He’d liked Robert better as the malleable young student. He’d grown confident over the past year, the quake and its aftermath giving him freedom to practice his skills unsupervised. Now with a sister to impress, he was proving insufferable. Maybe this would be an opportunity to show Robert he still had a few things to learn. Gerald forced a smile as he faced his partner. “You may come.” The inkling of a plan grew in the back of his mind. “But only as observers. You will not speak.”
Robert stopped midstride. “Then what’s the point?”
“Your choice.” Gerald shrugged.
“You’re being unreasonable.”
“That makes two of us.” He turned to Ruby. “Do you see why we make such a good team?”
She placed both hands on her hips, cocking her head to one side as if conducting a careful examination. “Because you’re both stubborn and pigheaded?”
“Precisely.” Gerald gripped his partner’s shoulder. “Curing cancer demands dogged determination, right?”
The look of confusion in Robert’s eyes was worth losing a few more hours of sleep.
* * *
Gerald surveyed the group of bristly old men surrounding the long, glossy mahogany table, the room reeking of cigar smoke and money. Sweat broke out between his shoulder blades and he swallowed, the cool air reminding him of the hospital morgue.
Robert took the seat beside him, a tad green around the gills. Ruby perched on a chair beside the door, hands folded in her lap.
Gerald glanced down at his reflection in the tabletop in lieu of closing his eyes and breathed a desperate prayer for wisdom. He flexed his fingers and released them, willing away the tension that would cause him to fidget while speaking. “Gentlemen, you remember my partner, Dr. King?”
Robert bobbed his head at the stony-looking m
en and wiped a finger along his brow, his color fading until you could barely identify where the celluloid collar ended on his neck.
At least I won’t have to worry about him wanting to speak.
Gerald adjusted his tie. “Distinguished board of directors, you know why we’re here. I’ve been called upon to give an accounting of our research to date.” He cleared his throat and reached for the glass of water. Confidence.
“In front of you, you have the details of our findings thus far.” He paused as the men shuffled the papers. “Dr. King and I wish to express our gratitude to the board for their abundant generosity and confidence in us during the previous year. As you can see from our results, we have seen astounding success with the X-ray treatments in improving our patient’s health and, in the case of two patients, actually sending their cancer into remission.”
Dr. Emil Dawson, seated at the far end of the table, pulled a gold watch from his pocket and flipped it open while clearing his throat. “Temporary remission, wasn’t it, Dr. Larkspur?”
Gerald paused, waiting for the men’s gazes to shift back in his direction. “Yes, Dr. Dawson. You are correct. Temporary remission.”
Emil tapped the watch on the table lightly, drawing his bushy gray eyebrows together. “In other words, you haven’t actually healed anyone, have you?”
Robert shifted in his chair. The grizzled old doctor taught at the medical college, striking terror into students for decades. Undoubtedly, the unpleasant scrutiny brought back disagreeable memories.
Setting his jaw, Gerald folded his hands. Time to show Robert how one dealt with bullies like Dawson. “We have seen remarkable improvement in almost every case.”
Emil sighed. “You said yourself, Dr. Larkspur, this board has been abundantly generous. We have funded your research—your grand X-ray experiment—” he dragged out the words like a hissing cat. “But in reality, you don’t have any clear results to show for it, now, do you?”
Gerald leaned back in his chair, letting the doctor’s words float in the air alongside the cigar smoke. Emil baited him, and Gerald could not afford to take the hook. Instead, he let his attention wander the room, as though the man’s assertions were the least of his worries. He paused when his eyes reached Ruby Marshall, leaning forward in her chair.
She met his gaze with bright eyes and a curt nod.
The tension dissolved from Gerald’s shoulders as if her faith had crossed the space between them. He took a deep breath, directing his focus back to the men. “Our results are clearly stated in the report.”
“And how much money has the board committed to your little sideshow?” Dr. Dawson continued his tirade. “We’ve all heard the stories—X-rays will cure psoriasis, pneumonia, depression, hysteria . . .” He tapped the watchcase against the table a second time. “I ask you, Dr. Larkspur—where is the proof? It’s just more poppycock. Treat cancer by beaming harmless little rays of light at a patient’s body? It’s ludicrous.” Emil’s face and scalp flushed, white whiskers standing brilliant against his red face. “Before the earthquake, Lane Hospital was one of the finest in the country. Now look at it. Every department is in shambles!”
The man raised a meaty finger and pointed it at the other board members. “If you vote to support the shenanigans these shysters are passing off as research, we will become the laughingstock of the nation.”
Muttering broke out around the table as Emil sat back, mopping his brow with a silk handkerchief.
Gerald clamped a hand on Robert’s arm before the younger man could spring from his chair. Gerald leaned close, allowing the hum of conversation to hide his words. “Keep silent. Don’t play his game.”
Robert’s brow furrowed. “How can you just sit there?”
Gerald waited for the room to quiet. As the murmuring subsided, he lifted his chin. “Are you finished, Dr. Dawson?”
A half-smile crossed his accuser’s face. “I believe you are, Dr. Larkspur.”
A low chuckle spread through the assembly.
Gerald gathered the papers, lifting them on edge to straighten the stack against the dark tabletop. Pushing his chair back, he stood.
Robert’s jaw dropped. “Gerald, where are—”
Gerald lifted a hand to stop his friend’s words. “Yes, Dr. Dawson. I am finished.” He slipped the papers into the valise. The silence expanded until it seemed to press against the wine-colored wallpaper.
Robert leaned forward. “What Dr. Larkspur means—”
“No, Dr. King. Our distinguished colleague is correct.” Gerald snapped the valise shut and set it on the table. He gestured to the men sitting in the high-backed chairs. “This board has been generous. In the past. But since the earthquake, the organization has been in disarray. Obviously, the board needs to reconsider whether or not Lane Hospital can maintain its revered status as a premier research facility, prepared to compete in the national theater of medicine.” He gazed around the room. He raised his voice. “If you have chosen to take a step back, return to the safety of the 1800s—” he shrugged his shoulders, letting his hand fall back upon the leather bag, “—then my partner and I will assume our services are no longer needed. In fact, we were just discussing the X-ray research programs being developed in Chicago, weren’t we, Dr. King?”
Robert’s Adam’s apple dipped. He gave a sharp nod. “Um, yes. Chicago—and Boston, too.”
Gerald looked back at the circle of dark suits. “Several cities offer significantly better funded programs and superior facilities. Our research would progress toward a viable treatment rapidly in an environment more conducive to the appropriate levels of financial support.”
He glanced across the room at Ruby. A smile teased at the corners of her lips.
“I find it a shame, though.” Gerald lifted the bag from the tabletop. “After all, you gentlemen worked so hard to make this facility successful and to see our hospital become a leader in medicine and research, only to have it decimated by the earthquake. And now, with the entire nation’s newspapers focused on our city—we have an opportunity to show the world San Francisco remains strong.”
Gerald folded his coat over his arm and slipped on his derby before strolling toward the doorway. “It’s such a pity for you to be left behind. But I’m sure Dr. King and I will be well received in Chicago. Have any of you heard what they are paying doctors in the East?” He lifted an eyebrow and touched the brim of his hat in farewell.
Uproar broke out in the room. The loud voices echoed down the hall as Gerald stepped out, Robert and Ruby on his heels.
A young clerk sitting behind a large oak desk glanced up in concern. “What’s going on?” He scurried over to the doorway.
Robert turned on Gerald, eyes blazing. “This is a dangerous game you’re playing. And it’s my future you’re betting with.”
“Your future couldn’t be brighter if it were lit with electric lights.” Gerald straightened his tie.
Ruby beamed, clutching her hat between her fingers. “I think Dr. Larkspur is correct, Robert. Did you see their faces?”
Robert swayed, eyes as round as an intern at his first surgery. “What do we do now? Go back to the hospital and start packing our office while the board decides our fate?”
Gerald pulled the watch from his pocket and leaned against the corner of the clerk’s desk. “No, this should only take a few minutes.”
Robert stared at Gerald as if he had lost all grip on his senses, but the longer the confusion in the room lasted, the more Gerald felt like celebrating. He crossed his arms and waited.
Dr. Hiram Lawrence, the youngest member of the board, slipped from the room with a grin. He grabbed Gerald’s hand and pumped it. “Well played, Dr. Larkspur. The board’s with you.” He shook Robert’s hand and glanced back over his shoulder at the doorway. “But stay on your toes. Emil Dawson will see you both in tar and feathers if he has his way.”
“Let him try.” Gerald chuckled and turned to Robert. “I think we’ve assured ourselves of some long ho
urs in the months ahead. I hope you’re prepared.”
A grin spread across Robert’s face. “Always.”
Gerald clapped a hand on his partner’s shoulder and guided him toward the exit. There goes my dream of bidding farewell to research. “I think a celebration is in order.”
7
A smile crept across Gerald’s face as he walked to the car. Nothing made a man feel alive like a battle well planned and fought. He’d bested his competition, put an upstart partner in his place, and impressed an interesting young woman, all in the course of one morning. Gerald lifted his chin to the sunshine and pulled in a deep breath of the fresh air. Now, that’s how one turns around a day.
Robert trailed behind, Ruby by his side. “How did you accomplish it?” His voice rose two notches above normal timbre. “This morning we stood on the verge of economic ruin, and you marched in and beguiled the board into doubling our funding!”
Gerald reached the automobile and held out an arm to assist Ruby to her seat. “Robert, how can you have so little faith in me? Have I taught you nothing?”
The woman paused, eyeing the vehicle for a long moment before taking Gerald’s offered hand and stepping up into the vehicle.
Gerald released her fingers as she settled onto the cushion. Ruby performed an admirable feat, considering her fear of machines.
Robert blocked Gerald from circling around to the driver’s seat. “You were prepared to wash your hands of this entire project. I thought you were sending our research to the chopping block.” He leaned against the car, brow furrowed. “Were you playing me for a fool?”
Gerald crossed both arms over his chest. “I did it for Leo. And Cecelia. And all the others.”
“Gerald, you’re swinging like a pendulum. One moment you support the research and the next, you’re ready to push me in front of the streetcar. Now, you’re on board again? What am I supposed to believe?”
Acid burned in Gerald’s throat. He glanced over at Ruby, her face a fairer mirror to her brother’s. Gerald laced fingers under his lapels and snapped the jacket smooth before turning to his partner. “I am not a researcher, nor will I ever be. I can play the game with the board, but I’ll only go so far. You’re the young genius bound to find the answers. Consequently, you’d better get busy.” He glanced away, avoiding his friend’s eyes. “We may be running out of time.”
Beyond the Ashes Page 5
