“I have. It’s characterized by strong adhesions between the viscera of the peritoneal cavity, if I remember correctly.”
“Exactly right. And if you look here, he has a tumor in the right iliac fossa. It’s a good thing we decided to operate when we did.”
“And so what will you do?”
“I must remove as much infected tissue as I possibly can, and see about separating the adhesions.” Edward glanced at Sophie. “There are smells associated with gangrene, I warn you.”
“If smells bothered me, I wouldn’t be a nurse,” she returned with a smile. “It’s the visual appearance of things that sometimes makes me ill.”
Edward got to work removing the appendix and the associated infected tissue. The adhesions were trickier. Perforations weren’t uncommon in a surgery like this, and at several key points, he held his breath. He didn’t realize he was sweating until Sophie wiped his forehead with a clean towel.
“I believe that’s all we can do,” he said after quite a long stretch of time had gone by. “All the infected tissue has been removed, but I had to leave that one adhesion for fear of perforation. It might cause him some trouble in the future, but we have no way of knowing that for certain. It could be that he’ll heal up quite well and never have another issue again.”
“And how’s your headache?” Sophie asked him.
“Very slight, actually. I’ll be able to keep functioning.”
“I’m so glad.” She looked at him, her eyes shining with something that looked like pride, and he found his heart warming a bit.
Chapter Twelve
Edward paced back and forth in his office. Sophie watched him, bemused.
“If our goal is to reduce your stress, I’m not sure pacing back and forth like a rabid lion is the best course of treatment,” she said.
“I know. I just wish he’d arrive so we could get this over with.” Edward pressed a hand to his temple. “And find out if Dr. Russell is right.”
Sophie had watched with concern as the headaches increased as the date of the visit drew closer. In her mind, everything was solved—as long as Edward got plenty of fresh air, exercise, and didn’t think about his father, he did well. She had noticed that he tended to become fatigued at the end of a long shift, which was entirely natural, and passed along that information to Dr. Russell. The recommendation was made that Edward work shorter shifts—again, a rather simple solution.
Sophie believed Edward was hoping for yet another cause so he couldn’t put the blame on his relationship with his father. It wasn’t masculine to let one’s father have so much control over one’s emotions. But the mind and the body worked together in a curious way, and Sophie wasn’t sure if there was a way to break that connection so the body could remain healthy regardless of the emotional status of the mind.
“I shouldn’t tell you this, but I’m going to,” she said, leaning forward and lowering her voice to a conspiratorial whisper. “Mrs. Everett is making tarts at this very moment. In three different flavors.”
“I’ve finally won her over, have I?” Edward stopped his pacing long enough to give a smirk.
“No, she’s still highly suspicious of you. She’s doing it because I asked her.” Sophie leaned back in her chair. “I do believe she knows you’ll be the one eating them.”
“I don’t think tarts can solve this problem.” Edward finally sat down. It was a good thing, too—Sophie was getting dizzy watching him.
“The tarts aren’t intended to solve the problem,” Sophie told him. “They’re to celebrate after you solve the problem.”
“I see.” Edward tugged on his necktie, then checked his pocket watch. “He said he expected to arrive by eleven. It’s eleven thirty.”
“You know how trains are. Any delay can cause the whole line to run late.” Sophie looked at him and smiled. “It’s going to be all right. You’ll do this very well.”
“I wish there was some way to avoid doing it at all, but it can’t be helped. It’s not just the headaches—it’s the whole status of our relationship. If I never have this conversation, things between us will never change.”
Just then, Sophie heard Nurse Foster’s voice out in the hall. “If you’ll step this way, Mr. Gregory, Dr. Gregory’s office is right here.”
Sophie sprang to her feet and smoothed down the front of her apron. Edward came to his feet as well just as a knock sounded at the door.
“Should I open it?” Sophie whispered.
“Come in,” Edward called aloud, and Nurse Foster stuck her head inside.
“Mr. Gregory to see you, Doctor.”
“Good, good. Show him in, please.”
Sophie detected a bit of an edge to Edward’s voice and peered at him carefully. He was showing some of his telltale headache symptoms already—blinking at the light, becoming terse. She pressed her lips together, willing him to be able to push through the pain.
An older gentleman who looked quite a bit like Edward stepped into the room. He carried a cane with a most impressive golden knob on top, and he looked around the room with a critical eye. She bobbed a quick curtsy as his gaze fell on her, but his inspection of her didn’t last long.
“Hello, Father,” Edward said, coming forward to shake the man’s hand. “How was your journey?”
“Pleasant enough, I suppose.” Mr. Gregory took the chair in front of the desk, and Edward sat behind it. Sophie remained standing near the door, quiet, trying to be unobtrusive, but bursting with curiosity.
“I was very glad to get your letter,” Edward continued. “I believe it’s been two years since you’ve been able to come for a visit.”
“The same two years have passed for us as well, and yet, we haven’t seen you come home at all,” his father rejoined. “It’s just as easy for you to get away from work as it is for me, you know. Your mother fears you never will come home, that the city has addled your head in some way.”
Sophie bit back a chuckle. Edward’s head certainly had been affected, but not in the way his mother thought. The coincidental choice of words, however, was humorous.
“I’ve been very busy with my practice, but you’re right, Father. I should come home for a visit. Thanksgiving might be a good time—we seem to have quite a number of emergencies over Christmas.”
Sophie was impressed. She and Edward had discussed how he’d begin this conversation, and that was by creating a good feeling between himself and his father. He was off to an excellent start.
Mr. Gregory cleared his throat. “That would be nice, son. However, I’ve come here to talk with you about a more . . . permanent arrangement.”
Edward pulled in a breath. Sophie might not have noticed his reaction, it was so slight, except for the fact that she was watching him so closely.
“What sort of arrangement, Father?”
Mr. Gregory uncrossed his legs and then crossed them again the other way. “It’s no secret that I’m getting on in years. It’s also no secret that I hoped you’d go into business with me. I’d like to retire and hand my position over to you, Edward. It’s an excellent living, the people in town already know and trust you, and there’s no one else I’d rather ask. You’ve certainly worked hard here, and I appreciate that, but everything is so uncertain, so experimental. Why don’t you come home and take over for me, doing something with less . . . potential career risk? It would delight your mother no end.”
Edward paused before replying. “Thank you for your belief in me, Father. I know you wouldn’t make this offer lightly. However, I’ve found my calling here, in medicine, and I don’t feel I could ever be happy if I left it.”
“You enjoy cutting into people?” Mr. Gregory sounded incredulous.
“I don’t enjoy that aspect in particular, but I enjoy finding and eradicating the cause of their illness. It’s my way of forwarding science, of giving a hand toward progress.”
“But banking is a solid, stable profession. No one has ever walked into the bank and died on a table while I was helping them.” Mr. Gr
egory laughed at his own joke. “And think what it would mean to your mother.”
Edward pulled in another deep breath. “I don’t wish to hurt Mother in any way, and you may take her my promise that I’ll come home for Thanksgiving or at some point near it. But I will never be a banker, Father. I am a doctor. It’s what I was born to do. Every day, I learn something new and I help someone else and I discover what it means to be a healer. I’m not perfect at it, but I have the chance to learn from the very best. I know you don’t understand, but I do ask that you try to accept my choice.”
“It’s very difficult to accept your choice when my friends refer to you as ‘that people butcher.’ How can I hold my head up in society when that’s how they see you?”
Sophie blinked. Gracious—she hadn’t expected that at all.
Apparently, it wasn’t the first time Edward had heard it. “Surgery has been a part of human healthcare almost from the beginning of time,” he said, as though he’d explained it already dozens of times. Perhaps he had. “Yes, much of it is experimental, but there are countless procedures being performed that are now routine. Today, people are surviving ailments that would have killed them ten years ago, or five years ago, or even last year. Medicine changes daily, and it’s an exciting time to be involved. I’m sorry that your friends don’t understand, but they’ve never cared much for me anyway.”
“That’s not true,” Mr. Gregory protested. “They’ve always thought you were a fine boy. They just believe that you’ve taken a wrong turn and want to see you get back on the right path.”
“I am on the right path, and I’m afraid that nothing can be done to change my mind.” Edward stood up and buttoned his suit coat. “I’ll tell you one thing, though—I’m famished, and I’d like to treat you to lunch. What do you say, Father? I know a place where we can get a nice roast beef.”
Mr. Gregory slowly came to his feet. “There’s nothing at all I can do to persuade you?”
“Nothing. I don’t mean to disappoint, but it’s time we understood each other. Now, how about lunch?”
Mr. Gregory shook his head. “I’ve lost my appetite. I believe I’ll go back to my hotel. My return train leaves at eight in the morning tomorrow. If you can see your way clear to joining me after all, I’ll meet you at the platform.”
Edward lifted one shoulder almost imperceptibly. Sophie could see why he felt so ignored—his father really wasn’t understanding him. “I’ll wish you a good journey, then. Tell Mother about my visit, would you?”
Mr. Gregory nodded once, then left the room without another glance at Sophie. She supposed that was one nice thing about being in uniform—it did make her all but invisible, and allowed her to eavesdrop more easily.
Edward watched his father go, not moving, only blinking a few times to prove that he hadn’t been turned to stone. Then he sank back into his chair.
“I don’t know if he heard me that time either,” he muttered, pressing his face into his hands.
“But you said it. You said it clearly and with dignity, but also with respect for your father and his position.” Sophie took the recently vacated chair. “I couldn’t be more proud. And if he never understands, well, at least you said the words. On some level, he’ll have to know how you feel, and the responsibility is on him now. You can shift that burden.”
“And let him have the headaches?” Edward said wryly.
“Why not? I’d say it’s about his turn.” Sophie grinned, but then grew serious. “There is one remaining problem, however.”
“Oh? What’s that?”
“Ever since you said the words ‘roast beef,’ I can’t think about anything else. And since you were planning to take your father to lunch and he said no, that leaves you entirely without a companion.”
“Sophie, are you angling for a lunch invitation?”
“Who, me?” She feigned innocence. “I would never do such an unladylike thing. However, since you all but suggested it yourself just now, yes, I would love to come to lunch with you, Doctor.”
He chuckled as he stood and motioned toward the door. “Then by all means, let’s go.” How had he ever managed on his own before he met her? She made everything so much better.
***
The lunch was every bit as nice as Edward had promised, but Sophie wouldn’t let him order dessert, reminding him that she had a treat for him back at the house. They walked slowly, enjoying the sunshine, and on impulse, she reached out and tucked her arm through his. She didn’t know what made her do it, but it seemed right, and he certainly didn’t show any signs of objecting.
When they reached the house, Mrs. Everett stood in the hallway, waiting. “I don’t know how long you think I can keep a pot of tea hot, young lady.”
“Well, I didn’t know how long Dr. Gregory would be tied up with his guest,” Sophie explained. “For all I knew, they could have gone off sightseeing together and then I’d be forced to eat all the tarts myself. That would have been such a tragedy.”
“Yes, I’m sure it would have been. Well, they’re ready, and if the tea tastes warmed over a dozen times, that’s because it was.”
Sophie led Edward into the kitchen, as Mrs. Everett was setting up the table for dinner, and she poured him a cup of tea. “Two sugars and a little cream?” she asked.
“Exactly. And you’re sugar with lemon.”
“That’s right, but I’m doing my own pouring, thank you.” She set the two cups in their rightful places, then fetched the plate of tarts from the sideboard. “And you get first pick.”
Edward picked up a cherry tart, and Sophie chose a peach.
“Now, tell me,” she said after they’d both taken a few bites. “How does your head feel now?”
He paused and seemed to be thinking about it.
“It’s gone,” he said after a moment. “It’s completely gone.”
“Are you sure? You aren’t saying that just because you think it’s what I want to hear?”
“It’s really gone. I swear it.”
She grinned, happiness spreading all through her. “This is fantastic. Absolutely fantastic!”
“It really is.” He reached out and took her hand, a thoughtful look on his face. “I can’t thank you enough.”
“Oh, come now. What did I do? This was all Dr. Russell and Miss Cantrell’s idea.”
“It may have been their idea, but you’re the one who brought it about. Thank you, Sophie. I truly believe you’ve changed my entire life. And while tarts are an excellent way to celebrate, we must do something more. I’d like to take you to the theater tonight.”
“The theater?” Sophie couldn’t help it—she bounced up and down in her chair just a little. “Oh, I would love to go.”
“It just so happens that I have two tickets in a grateful patient’s box anytime I want them.”
She tilted her head to the side. “Any time? Without advance notice?”
He chuckled. “The grateful patient owns the theater.”
“Well then, by all means. Yes, please. Take me to the theater.” She bounced again, too happy to say anything else.
Chapter Thirteen
“When I said yes, I didn’t realize that meant I’d need a dress,” Sophie lamented, standing in front of the wardrobe and feeling utterly lost. “I wasn’t thinking about my clothing at all.”
“I wish I had something to lend you,” Jeanette replied. “All my dresses are more suited to making beds and serving pie.”
“It’s all right. I’m sure I’ll make something work. You’d think that with all these dresses, there would be something suitable, but when I packed, I was thinking about summer picnics, not the theater.”
“I’m sure we can come up with something.” Jeanette got a wicked grin on her face. “Oh, Meg . . .”
Meg came into the room. “Yes? What is it?”
“Sophie is being taken to the theater tonight and needs a gown to wear. Could you possibly lend her something?”
Meg let out a long sigh. “
Why would I do that? If someone doesn’t have the sense to come prepared, am I expected to solve all their problems for them?”
Jeanette pursed her lips. “Well, it just seems to me that racking up favors could be a very good idea. After all, we’re going to be living together for another four months or so, and I’d certainly want as many allies as possible.”
Meg seemed to consider this. “Fine. But if you spill anything or step in anything or drag the hem on anything, I’ll . . . I’ll put you in for vomit duty for the rest of your life!”
Sophie laughed. “I can accept those terms.”
Meg disappeared and came back a moment later with a lovely gown that appeared to be made from clouds. “This is the one I can most bear to part with. Here are matching gloves and a fan. I repeat my caution—not one speck of a spill.”
“Not even a speck,” Sophie promised.
She all but held her breath as she stepped into the dress and slipped her arms into the sleeves. She had never seen anything so lovely, let alone worn it. Jeanette’s eyes were shining as she helped fluff out the skirts. “Oh, Sophie. You’re beautiful.”
Sophie turned toward the mirror and blinked several times. “I . . . am beautiful, aren’t I?”
They both laughed, and then Jeanette fastened the back of the dress and helped with her hair. By the time they were done, Sophie looked and felt like a princess in every way. All the other girls came in to admire her, and even Meg admitted that she turned out rather nice.
A moment later, when Sophie descended the stairs, Edward, who was waiting at the bottom, seemed to be speechless. He held out his arm and escorted her to the carriage waiting outside after making sure Mrs. Everett knew what time they’d be returning.
Every second of the play was enchanting. Sophie had never sat in a box before, and she almost didn’t know what to do with herself. Edward introduced her to a few of his friends and colleagues during intermission and fetched her an iced lemonade. At the end of the play, she was reluctant to go home and resume normal life—especially when normal life consisted of scrubbing bedsheets and disinfecting surgical instruments.
Cause of Conflict (Nurses of New York Book 2) Page 8
