Talk of the Town

by Anne Marie Rodgers

  “Maybe you should take it easy for a day or two,” Alice suggested. “Rest a bit more.”

  “I didn’t make you any tea this morning,” Jane said. “With all the excitement over Wendell, I completely forgot.”

  “It’s all right.” He coughed again and held up a hand to indicate that they should wait until he could speak again. “I’ve taken cold medicine.”

  “For all the good that seems to be doing,” muttered Jane. “Well, the tea is a homeopathic remedy and has nothing in it that could react with cold medicine. Come with me to the kitchen and let me make you some more.”

  He hesitated.

  Alice said, “That tea really does seem to help when I have a cold.”

  “All right. Thank you.” And he meekly followed Jane down the hallway.

  In the kitchen, she quickly mixed up the tea and heated a mug in which she set the little linen packet to steep.

  “Jane?”

  Maxwell really didn’t look well, she thought. His eyes had dark circles beneath them, and his skin was as colorless as could be. “Yes?”

  “Did you ever do something you were ashamed of, and then you didn’t know how to make it right? Or even to admit it?”

  Jane smiled. “Of course. We all make mistakes, Maxwell.”

  “But can you think of anything specific?”

  Jane thought for a moment. “When I was eight, I broke a vase playing tag in the house with the neighbor’s kids. The vase had belonged to my mother, who passed away when I was born. I was sure Father was going to be angry because he had a rule about not running in the house, so I hid the pieces. Then, scheming little creature that I was, I went to the attic, which was filled with all sorts of old family trash and treasures—still is, come to think of it—and found another vase. It wasn’t special or an heirloom, but I hoped he wouldn’t notice.”

  “And did he?”

  Jane was silent for a moment before she continued. “I hardly slept all night, worrying about how dishonest I had been. The next morning at breakfast, Father very casually mentioned that he was going to bring home some flowers that day for the vase in the hall that Mother had loved, and asked me to bring it to the kitchen so he could wash it. Well, of course he knew it wasn’t there. So I, dragging my feet the whole way, brought back the substitute vase. But I couldn’t stand myself anymore and I burst into tears and told Father what I had done. And guess what?”

  “What?” Maxwell appeared to be hanging on her words.

  “He wasn’t angry. But he was disappointed and that was even worse—” Her attention was diverted as Wendell walked slowly into the room. “Hello, my buddy. How are you feeling? I bet you haven’t slept so well in days.”

  Wendell meowed plaintively and rubbed himself against her legs.

  Jane laughed. “All right. I’m sure you are hungry. But you can’t tell Alice or Louise.” She went to the pantry and opened the door. Wendell moved with her. Then, as Maxwell watched, Wendell rose on his hind legs and nipped a small package off the lowest shelf.

  “His treats,” Jane explained. “I usually give him one midmorning, but I think for a few days I’m going to give him one in the afternoon too. At least until he fattens up a bit.” She bent and stroked the cat, then rose and went to the sink to wash her hands. “Now, what were we talking about?”

  “Nothing important.” Maxwell rose from the chair he’d taken and picked up his mug of tea. “Thank you for the tea.”

  The next day was Wednesday. Louise awoke with the funniest feeling of happiness and contentment, and then remembered that Wendell had come home. No wonder she felt good. Today would have been two weeks since his disappearance.

  She showered and dressed, layering a toast-colored cardigan over her beige blouse.The weather had been unusually warm for the beginning of April, but first thing in the morning it could be quite nippy.

  Leaving her room, she headed for the stairs. One flight down, she paused on the second floor landing. Someone was coughing and coughing.

  She walked down the hall and knocked on Maxwell’s door. “Maxwell?”

  “Louise? I’m all right. Don’t worry about me. I’m just going to rest all day as Alice suggested.”

  Louise hesitated. He sounded quite breathless. But he had said he was going to rest, and she supposed he’d phone the doctor himself if he began to feel really ill. “All right,” she finally called. “Let us know if you need us.”

  “I will. Could you please tell Jane that I won’t be having breakfast?”

  Louise hesitated. Weren’t you supposed to feed a cold and starve a fever? She wasn’t sure not eating was what Maxwell really needed. Finally, she said, “Yes, certainly. I’ll tell her.”

  “Thank you.” He sounded as if he already was drifting back into slumber.

  But as she continued down the steps to the first floor, she still could hear the harsh sound of coughing following her.

  In the kitchen, Jane was fussing over a delicious-looking fruit plate. She looked up as Louise entered. “Good morning, Louie.”

  “Good morning, Janie.” She smiled when her sister’s head came up with a jerk.

  Jane eyed her for a moment. “Does this mean we have to start calling Alice ‘Ali’?”

  Louise shuddered. “Heavens, I hope not.” Then she remembered her errand. “Oh, Maxwell asked me to tell you he isn’t coming down to breakfast. Jane, he still has that horrid cough.”

  Jane sighed. “I know. I heard him when I came down earlier. What do you think we should do?”

  “I’m not sure there’s anything we can do unless he asks for help. He’s of age. We can’t call his parents.”

  “Just watch me,” warned Jane. “If he gets much sicker, he may not get a choice.”

  “If he gets much sicker, he’s going to be beyond caring whom we call,” Louise predicted. “The mother in me cringes to think of my child’s being ill and alone among strangers.”

  “But he hasn’t got a mother,” Jane pointed out, “and he doesn’t seem to think his father is too interested in where he is or what he’s doing, as long as he doesn’t cause any trouble.”

  “Well, he has us,” Louise said. “Let’s ask Alice to check on him later. We’ll just have to keep a close eye on him until he shakes whatever bug he’s got.”

  Clothilda was scheduled to return from her bus tour Wednesday evening. Alice had to work an evening shift and would not be home until nearly eleven and Jane was baking something for the next day’s breakfast, so Louise volunteered to pick up their guest in Potterston.

  As she drove to the shopping center where the bus would arrive, Louise sighed happily. Wendell was home, safe and sound. She was a few minutes early, so she drove around the neighborhood where she and her sisters had spent so many hours calling the cat. She stopped at every place she knew they had put up a poster and took it down.

  Then she drove to the shopping center. The bus had not arrived yet, so she hurried into the grocery store. As she’d looked at Wendell this morning, she thought he seemed so terribly thin. Who was to know if she bought a little box of cat treats and hid them in her room? If she fed him, say, two a day, that might help to fatten him up again faster.

  Feeling sneaky, she purchased the treats and squirreled them away in her handbag once she was back in the car.

  In a few minutes, the bus pulled in. Stopping near the back of the lot in a wide-open area, the driver opened the doors and passengers began to exit. While the passengers searched for familiar faces or dug for car keys, the driver and the tour guide unloaded suitcases and lined them up in a neat row along the sidewalk.

  “Louise. Hello.” Clothilda waved at Louise with her customary zeal, dragging her red leather wheeled suitcase along behind her.

  “Hello,” Louise responded. “The car is right over here.”

  With Clothilda and her luggage safely stowed in the car, Louise began the short trip back to Acorn Hill.

  “Ah,” sighed Clothilda. “I am good to be back.”

&
nbsp; Louise suppressed a smile. Clothilda’s interesting use of the English language never failed to amuse her. “It is good to have you back, as well.” Her voice rose. “We had a surprise while you were away.”

  “What was it? I cannot guess.”

  “Our cat Wendell came home.”

  Clothilda looked delighted. “How wonderful! You must be so happy.”

  “We are.” Louise went on to relate the story of Wendell’s return.

  “How wonderful this is.” Clothilda beamed. “Jane and Alice must be very happy also.”

  “Oh, they are. Jane is eager for you to get home. I believe she has been enjoying your jaunts around the area.”

  “Jaunts? What are these jaunts?”

  “Ah, travels. Short trips. Short fun trips.”

  Clothilda chuckled. “This is right. We have fun when we are on these jaunts.”

  “What will you do in your search for your ancestors this week?”

  “We will go back to everywhere we have been and look for Mullers with a u. And we will begin asking everyone we meet if they know anyone by this name.”

  “I’m sure you’ll find one sooner or later.”

  “Sooner is better,” Clothilda told her, her sunny smile fading. “Later is bad. I must return to home in one more week. I must find Mullers before then.”

  She sounded oddly insistent. Louise wondered what could be so important about finding distant relatives but felt it would be impolite to ask.

  When Maxwell did not come down for breakfast again on Thursday morning, Alice said, “Do you think we should check on him? I barely heard a peep out of him yesterday.”

  “He’s still coughing a lot,” Louise added. “You probably were the last one to see him, Alice. How did he seem to you?”

  “Sick,” said Alice frankly. “I looked in on him right after lunch, and again before I went to bed. I suggested that he see a doctor for the cough, but he said he might do it in a day or two if he doesn’t soon feel better.” She spread her hands helplessly. “I can’t force him to take action.”

  Jane set down her spoon. “That coughing sounds so terrible,” she agreed. “If he isn’t down by the time we’re done eating, I definitely think we should check on him again.”

  “You know,” said Alice thoughtfully, “Now that I think about it, I didn’t see him leave the inn at all yesterday.”

  Jane was beginning to look very worried. “I took him some soup at lunch time, but I’m ashamed to say I didn’t keep track of him after that. I didn’t see him go out to dinner, either. Did you, Louise?”

  Louise shook her head. “No. After my morning visit, I did not speak to him or see him again.” She picked up her napkin and delicately patted her mouth. “I’m not going to be able to eat another bite until we check on him.”

  “Good.” Alice leaped to her feet. “I feel the same way.”

  All three sisters set their plates aside, even though none of them was finished completely. Alice led the way up the stairs.

  They paused in the hallway outside the young man’s door. Alice raised her fist and knocked gently on the door. “Maxwell?”

  There was no answer.

  She knocked again, quite a bit more firmly. Across the hall, Clothilda opened her door, wearing a blue robe. “Was ist es?”

  “Sorry to have awakened you. We are afraid Maxwell may be ill,” Jane told her.

  Clothilda nodded. “Good to check. I hear him, ah, husten… cough?”

  “Coughing.” Jane nodded.

  “I hear him coughing all the night. It does not sound good.”

  Really alarmed now, Alice stared at her sisters. “What shall we do?”

  Louise reached out and turned the knob. The door opened.

  The four women looked at each other.

  “Maxwell?” Alice called in a loud, firm voice. “Maxwell, can you hear me? It’s Alice. I am going to enter your room.”

  She waited a moment, hoping against hope that he would respond. But when she heard nothing, she hesitantly pushed the door ajar. “Oh no,” she said as she caught a glimpse of the supine figure lying in the pale cream antiqued bedstead.

  Alice rushed into the room, the other three women crowding in behind her. “Maxwell. Maxwell, wake up. It’s Alice.”

  The young man moved lethargically and turned his head toward her. “Alice?” His voice was a mere croak and his face was flushed a dark, unhealthy color that intensified when his chest heaved in another deep, wracking cough. When the coughing spell ended, he was breathing in shallow gasps. “My back hurts,” he said through chattering teeth. “My chest hurts. Everything hurts.”

  “I imagine it does.” With gentle fingers, Alice tested his forehead and then lifted his wrist and began taking his pulse, holding her wrist up with its watch with the large face and easy-to-read second hand. “He’s feverish, confused, shaking with chills, and I’m concerned about his breathing,” she said to the others, who had followed her in and were anxiously gathered around. “And I suspect he’s very dehydrated.”

  “Shall I call 911?” asked Jane.

  Alice nodded. “I think you’d better. I doubt he can walk steadily, and none of us is going to be able to carry him if he goes down.”

  Jane vanished immediately.

  “What shall I do?” asked Louise.

  “Make sure the front door is unlocked for the paramedics. Get me a glass of water. Find his robe and some slippers or socks and shoes, and maybe a change of clothes or pajamas. See if he has a toothbrush and a razor we could bring along. And look for his wallet and check for his insurance card and complete identification.”

  Clothilda headed for the bathroom. “I get these things, then look for socks.”

  “All right. I’ll get the water, unlock the door and find a bag to put his things in,” Louise said.

  In a few minutes, the women had a small bag with Maxwell’s personal effects stored inside. Alice sat on the edge of the bed and propped up Maxwell to give him a drink, which he swallowed weakly but eagerly.

  “Ah,” he whispered. “Feels good.”

  “We’re taking you to the hospital,” Alice told him.

  His eyes widened. “No, I—”

  “Have no choice,” she finished. “If you have pneumonia, you may need antibiotics. You definitely need fluids. I can’t do those things here.”

  Jane called up the stairs. “The ambulance is here. Is he ready?”

  “Bring them up,” Louise called down to her.

  Chapter Fifteen

  In a matter of minutes, men and women in jackets emblazoned with the rescue squad’s logo arrived. They efficiently assessed the young man’s condition, covered him with a blanket, moved him onto a stretcher and maneuvered him down the stairs and out to the waiting vehicle.

  Alice stood by the stretcher as they got ready to load Maxwell. He looked terribly young and defenseless lying there, and she felt a surge of maternal concern. “I’ll be right behind you in my car.” She reached for his hand and squeezed it.

  “Thank you,” he whispered.

  The last things she heard were the slamming shut of the heavy doors and the sound of Maxwell coughing.

  “Alice!”

  Alice turned to see Louise pulling out in her Cadillac from the driveway.

  “Come on.” Louise waved something at her. “I have your jacket and purse. Jane’s going to stay here and get Clothilda some breakfast, and then she’ll join us.”

  Alice ran to the vehicle.

  “I can’t believe we didn’t realize how sick Maxwell was getting,” Louise said grimly.

  “He hid it well,” Alice said wearily. “I didn’t like the sound of that cough, but he was adamant that I not call anyone for him.”

  “He has pneumonia, doesn’t he?”

  Alice, ever the responsible nurse, said, “I can’t diagnose, of course, but I’m afraid he might.”

  Several hours later, Maxwell was installed in a private room at the Potterston hospital. As Alice had suspec
ted, he was diagnosed with bacterial pneumonia after a chest X-ray. Laboratory tests had determined exactly which bacteria were responsible and the appropriate antibiotics to combat them were added to the intravenous fluids he was receiving. He was given acetaminophen to bring down his fever and extra oxygen through tubes in his nose.

  The doctor did not want to suppress his coughing because he felt it would help to clear out the infection from his lungs, so Alice sat at his side, rubbing his back each time he suffered through a painful coughing spell.

  Louise dealt with the insurance paperwork in short order, and she insisted on checking to see if a private room was covered. “Everyone knows people often get sicker in hospitals,” she declared. “The fewer germs he is exposed to, the better. No offense,” she said hastily to Alice.

  “None taken.” Alice smiled wanly. Maxwell’s decline had scared her more than she wanted to admit. She was quite relieved to have him in competent medical hands. Additionally, she was feeling guilty for letting him get so sick in the first place.

  Louise had called Jane after the initial diagnosis to let her know that he would be admitted. Now she said to Alice, “Would you like some coffee—no, wait, you drink tea.”

  The small slip told Alice that Louise also was shaken. “I would love some tea,” Alice replied.

  “All right. I’ll be back shortly with your drink.” She checked her watch. “Then I’m going to slip down to the cafeteria for a bite to eat. When I return, perhaps you can go down for a few minutes.”

  “Perhaps.” Alice wanted to see Maxwell get a little more comfortable before she left him.

  Louise brought Alice her tea and then left again. Maxwell seemed to be resting a little better at last. She had just finished the tea when a person filled the doorway of his hospital room.

  “Kenneth!” Alice was delighted to see Rev. Kenneth Thompson. “Hello. How did you know we were here?”

  He smiled as he advanced into the room. “Actually, I didn’t know you were here. I saw Maxwell’s name on the roster when I came to do my parishioner visits, and I thought I’d stop in and see what was up.”