by Sara Donati
I wonder if maybe he is mad at me for letting him get lost but the truth is, he couldn’t be madder at me than I am at myself. Nonna says this is not a good way to think about all that happened, but it feels real to me. Sometimes I dream of the terrible priest who has been the cause of so much trouble, and in my dream I chase him around and around with a forcone—
Anna stopped and waited for the translation.
“What would you guess?”
“Given her feelings about the lawsuit and the root of the word, I would guess she’s chasing him with a fork.”
He nodded. “A pitchfork. You know, I can imagine her actually using it on him.”
Anna cleared her throat and went on.
But I never catch him. Auntie Carmela says, just as well, because sticking a priest won’t do anybody any good. I think Auntie Carmela has to say this because she goes to church. Otherwise she would have to confess that she told me it would be fine to stick the bad priest, and who knows what punishment they would give her. I wonder if they could take her children away if they think she is not being a good Catholic.
The truth is, I know it would make me feel better to stick the bad priest. So today I wrote him another letter. This is what I said: To the Cruel Priest, I will never again be a Catholic and it’s all your fault because you are unkind and full of pride, like a little boy who breaks toys he cannot keep for himself.
Auntie Carmela says I may not send this very honest letter, but Nonno winked at me when she said that, so maybe he will give me an envelope and a stamp as I have used up my supplies for this month. Which is why I’m writing so small on this, my last sheet of letter paper. Or maybe you will give me these things when we come to visit you and see Sophie? I fear it is being pushy to ask this, but I would rather try than not try.
I forgot to tell you Lia’s other news: she has a new tooth and the one next to it is coming too. I think these are the wrong tooths in her head somehow, they are too big. But Nonna says her head will grow to fit the tooths. This is something Aunt Anna will have to explain to me, because it makes no sense.
We send you all our love, me and Lia and Tonino, too, if he could only understand everything that you have done for us. What everyone here has done for us, as if we were of the same blood.
Rosa
Jack watched Anna struggle with her anger and sorrow, as she did every time a letter came from Greenwood. When the children left Waverly Place he had worried that she would grow bitter, but he had underestimated her. Anna would not let the Church do her or the children any more harm.
Now he said, “She’s not the only one who dreams of chasing McKinnawae around with a pitchfork, but I would catch him. And I meant to say that I talked to Aunt Philomena today. She thinks we can put together this trip to Greenwood in a couple weeks, and you know how it is, once she decides something.”
Anna had been staring up at the ceiling, but now she catapulted herself out of bed. Jack thought of suggesting that writing back to Rosa could wait until the next day, but it was an argument he never would win. He fell back against his pillow as she turned up the gaslight and reached for paper and pen. If he were to ask, she would say she just needed five minutes to write a short note, and she would mean that. At least until she remembered all the things she wanted Rosa to know and all the questions she needed to ask.
In an hour’s time she would crawl into bed beside him and then she would be able to sleep. And because she could sleep, he would, too.
15
LATE ON MONDAY afternoon Laura Lee came to find Sophie where she was sitting on the terrace.
“Those Belgians are as bothersome as Mr. Belmont said they would be.”
Sophie felt her smile faltering, because she understood before Laura Lee spoke that Nicholas Lambert had come again.
“Do I have this right, Mrs. Griffin is Dr. Lambert’s great-aunt? One way or the other he says he would like to talk to you if you’re available.” She huffed the last word.
“It’s probably a medical matter,” Sophie said. “I consulted on a post-mortem.”
It was Laura Lee’s turn to look surprised. “Are you going back to practice medicine so quick?”
“No, no,” Sophie said, mostly trying to convince herself. “Just a consultation. Please ask him to wait in the parlor.”
* * *
• • •
REALLY, SHE TOLD herself, there was no reason to be agitated. Nicholas Lambert was a colleague and a neighbor and welcome to call. Anna hinting that there was some other motive could be credited to the fact that she was recently married. Sophie had noticed before that those who were new to matrimony imagined everyone must be looking for a similar connection.
This comforting thought allowed her to smile as she walked into the parlor.
Her visitor put aside the magazine he had been reading and stood.
“Dr. Savard.” His smile was measured, just friendly enough. “I’m sorry to disturb you.”
“That’s quite all right,” Sophie said. “May I offer you coffee or tea?”
He raised a hand, palm out. “Oh, no. Thank you, no. I promise not to take too much of your time.”
But it seemed to Sophie that he was not in a hurry to raise the subject that had brought him to her door. He talked about the weather and the new laboratory being built at Bellevue, and at some length about a lecture he had attended earlier in the day on the clinical identification of the subspecies of Corynebacterium diphtheria.
In the midst of details on the morphology of the Benfonti subspecies, he broke off and smiled, shaking his head.
“I’m as nervous as a cat,” he said. “And for no good reason. I am here about a consultation. Over breakfast this morning I talked to my great-aunt about the possibility that you might consent to examine her. Her physician died two years ago and she hasn’t seen anyone since.”
Taken aback, Sophie said, “Mrs. Griffin? You want me to examine Mrs. Griffin?”
“Yes. She’s my only living relative. You may not realize this, but she respects and admires you, and if she’s going to let anyone look after her, it will be a woman.”
Sophie tried to keep her doubt out of her voice. “Really.”
One corner of his mouth curved up. “Yes, really. This morning she talked at great length about her visit with you.”
“But she has been very clear that she didn’t approve of my marriage,” Sophie began slowly. “Why would she allow someone of my—background to examine her?”
“I don’t think the two things are related, in her mind.”
Sophie tried to collect her thoughts, and resorted to the tried-and-true. “What are her main complaints?”
He shrugged, as if in apology. “If I ask about her health she calls me a ‘rude boy’ and tells me to mind my own business. But she is in pain at night, of that I’m sure.”
“As are most people of her age.”
He nodded. “You prefer not to take on the case?”
Sophie sat back. “I didn’t say that. I think at this point I could take this subject up with her directly. As I could have done when she called.”
“If she weren’t so stubborn,” he suggested.
“You are putting words in my mouth,” Sophie said. “But they are accurate words. I’ll write to you about what happens next, if that would be sufficient.”
“More than.” He stood and bowed from the waist. “Thank you for your time, Dr. Savard. May I ask, do you think you might be willing to call me by my first name?”
The suggestion startled her. “You want me to call you Nicholas?”
“I would like it if you did. I am on a first-name basis with your cousin and her husband, after all.”
“Yes, I noticed. All right, as we are neighbors now as well as colleagues.”
“You are very kind,” he said. “And I can’t tell you how much
I appreciate your willingness to take on a difficult patient.”
For a reason she couldn’t quite name, his very formal wording had begun to irritate her and so Sophie said what came to mind. “By which you mean to say, I’ve saved you further trouble.”
“How well you read me,” he said. “I think you must be watching me as much as I watch you.”
It was the smile that went along with that last comment that stayed with Sophie for far longer than it should have, because she wasn’t sure she had understood—or wanted to understand—exactly what he meant. It wasn’t until the mail came with a letter from Rosa that she could put Nicholas Lambert aside.
10th day of April in the year 1884
Dear Aunt Sophie,
Today you have been home for four days. I hope it is not too soon to write to you. I know you are very sad about Uncle Cap. We are so very sad too. Sometimes when people are sad they want to be left alone, I know this because I feel that way too, and then I find work to do that will take all my concentration.
Uncle Cap wrote to me in January after we came here to Greenwood to live. I read his letter every day at least once, and I know it almost by heart. He wrote this to me, words that I will never forget: You do not have to be strong all the time. It’s important to know that there are people who love you who are willing and even eager to be strong for you.
I am just a young girl, but I can be strong for you. I would like to be able to do that for you. Lia would mostly like to climb into your lap and hug you, because that is the way she knows how to help. With me you can be sad and angry, you can cry and yell if you need to. I will listen. I understand about being left behind.
Aunt Quinlan wrote to say that you had a difficult journey home and that you need some time to rest, but as soon as you say, we would like to see you.
We have been here in Greenwood for about three months now. I can say to you that we are so well taken care of, that everyone is good to us and never makes us feel like orphans, but I do miss Weeds and Roses and Aunt Quinlan and Mr. and Mrs. Lee and everyone there. I miss them so much that sometimes I can’t talk. I don’t want to feel this way, but I would rather be there than here. I would never say this to Uncle Leo or Auntie Carmela or to anyone, because it would be wrong to hurt their feelings.
This is a wonderful place. It is full of interesting things to do and friends and games, and maybe in time it will feel like home to me. I hope so.
When you are able, please write and tell us when we can see you. We love you very much and miss you every day.
Yours very truly,
Rosa
* * *
• • •
S. E. SAVARD VERHOEVEN
243 SEVENTEENTH STREET
NEW YORK, NEW YORK
April 12, 1884
Dear Rosa,
Your letter dated April 10 came this morning. I have read it three times and will read it three times more before bed, I am sure. How can I say this so you will understand?
I am so fortunate to have you as a niece and a friend. You are very young in years, but you have such a kind and generous heart and your instincts are so well honed, you seem much older. It makes me proud of you and sad for you at the same time.
Rosa, please don’t forget that your childhood is a precious time. As difficult as it has been, as many tragedies as you have survived, you can now be a girl. You can play games and run through the fields and make up adventures. You should be doing those things, Rosa. As much as I love every word you wrote to me, and as much as I appreciate and value your help, you must first remember to be a little girl and to take advantage of these days of wonder.
Finally I want you to know that your uncle Cap thought about you with great affection and often spoke of you and Lia in the days before he died. He was sorry not to have the chance to see you grow up into strong, happy people, and I am very sorry about that too. But I promised him that we would remember him by telling stories and laughing together, and I vow to do that, as soon as we see each other.
With all my love and devotion,
Your Aunt Sophie
Post Script: You know I am living now on Stuyvesant Square in a house Uncle Cap’s father built even before Cap was born. In fact there are two houses, twins, you might say, and imagine, neither of the houses have names. When you come to visit you will have to correct that oversight.
16
ON WEDNESDAY AFTERNOON Anna stopped by Stuyvesant Square and found Sophie bent over a piece of paper, her pen in an iron-fisted grip.
“You remind me of the day we took the final exam in Dr. Putnam’s therapeutics class,” Anna said. “What has you so wound up?”
“I examined Mrs. Griffin today. Dr. Lambert asked me to, and I agreed. Against my better judgment.”
Anna perched on a chair. “Not an easy patient?”
Sophie let out a soft snort. “You can’t have a conversation with her unless you listen to her daily report on what the neighbors did or are going to do, and why it’s a bad idea.”
“Gossip is probably the only entertainment in her life.”
“But not in mine,” Sophie said. “Then it got worse.”
Anna waved a hand. “Go on. I’m betting this will be funny.”
“If you can call an old woman who exists entirely on sugar funny. She reeled off everything she’s had to eat in the last week, no hesitation or remorse or embarrassment. It was like walking through a candy store. She’s fond of jellies and licorice whips and chocolate in all its forms, peppermints and caramels and horehound drops and candied nuts and pralines. She has bread pudding for her breakfast, and cake or pie for lunch. And ice cream, every day. At least once.”
She pushed out a sigh. “Of course she has indigestion. But she doesn’t want to hear it. She looked like an infant ready to throw a tantrum when I suggested she try a light dinner of broiled fish and salad to see if her heartburn didn’t improve. And when I said she’d have to give up tobacco—” Sophie shook her head.
“Did she have the butler throw you out?”
“Unfortunately, no. We debated nutrition until she sent for tea. Then she made me try scones with cream and fresh butter she has brought in from Long Island, and wild strawberry preserves her cook makes from a family recipe.”
“And?”
Sophie’s face fell. “Anna, I have never tasted anything so delicious in my entire life.”
* * *
• • •
S. E. SAVARD, M.D.
243 SEVENTEENTH STREET
NEW YORK, NEW YORK
April 16, 1884
PERSONAL AND CONFIDENTIAL
Nicholas Lambert, M.D.
Head, Forensic Science
Bellevue Hospital
New York, N.Y.
Dear Dr. Lambert,
As I have the idea that Mrs. Griffin will be very curious about this letter, I am addressing it to you at Bellevue so that you may have time to consider before sharing it with her.
This afternoon I visited with your great-aunt to conduct an examination, as you asked of me. From your description I had the strong impression that she had agreed to this exam, but either you were mistaken or she had changed her mind. In the end she did let me listen to her heart and lungs, palpate her abdomen, and check her eyes, ears, throat, joints, and reflexes, though she was not happy with any of it.
Mrs. Griffin is a 90-year-old woman in excellent health for her age; I detected no obvious signs of cardiac, liver, or kidney failure, no arrhythmia or heart murmurs, and her lungs were clear.
Kyphosis of the spine following from osteoporosis is self-evident. She admits that she has lost two or three inches in height since her youth. She denies significant back pain but admits to pain in her knees and the joints of her wrists, hands, and fingers. She is already doing everything sensible to help hers
elf without any instruction from a physician.
She does suffer significant gastroesophageal reflux pain, due, in my opinion, to poor diet and her habit of smoking a pipe in the evenings, especially given her preference for Brazilian Mapacho tobacco. She did not like my suggestion that her heartburn might disappear entirely were she to stop smoking and start eating more sensibly.
She asked for a prescription. After some thought I have written one, which you will find enclosed. I leave to you the decision on whether to dispense, based on your own observations of her discomfort. Certainly care should be taken that she adheres to the dosage as written.
Her eyesight is at something less than seventy-five percent due to cataracts, but her hearing is very good. Her mind is sharp, and her tongue sharper still.
In conclusion, she may still have many years before her, with moderate discomfort common to anyone her age. Improved diet and giving up tobacco are to be encouraged to that end.
A bill for services rendered will be sent to this address as soon as I have arranged an accounting system. With many thanks for your confidence in referring your great-aunt to me, I remain sincerely yours,
S. E. Savard, M.D.
17
THE NEXT MONDAY Jack came down for breakfast and found Oscar at the table. It was nothing unusual for his partner to invite himself to share in Mrs. Cabot’s cooking, but when he showed up at breakfast he almost always had news to share about a case.
This time it was a new case, the kind that would keep them running in circles for far too long and was unlikely to take a happy end. The missing woman was someone with both social standing and fortune, which doubled the impact and trebled the complexity.
“Why us?” Jack asked.
“We’re up,” Oscar said. “Walcott and Meyer are busy with that string of break-ins, and Hanks sprained an ankle and is no good to anybody. Everybody else is assigned. Or ran in the other direction.”