Test of Time (Nurses of New York Book 5)

by Amelia C. Adams

  “I’m sorry. I don’t hear anything,” Jeanette replied.

  Tabitha unlatched the window and threw it open. It was bitter cold outside, but Jeanette didn’t say anything—it could do no harm now. “Do you hear that, Mother?” Tabitha said, motioning toward the window. “It’s Grandmother’s song.”

  With that, Mrs. Brimley exhaled, long and slow, and stopped breathing altogether.

  It was as though all time stopped. Tabitha didn’t move, but stared at the bed, her eyes wide. Then at last they closed, and she nodded. “It was time,” she whispered. “It was time for her to go.”

  Jeanette stepped outside and asked a passing neighbor to fetch the doctor, then returned to the bedroom. Tabitha had arranged her mother’s arms neatly across her chest and tucked a small dried flower between her fingers, a gesture that Jeanette found touching.

  One final bit of care from the daughter who had done very little but care for her mother her entire life.

  Chapter Four

  Jeanette dragged herself up the stairs around dawn and flopped onto her bed, not even taking off her coat. Dr. Swenson had arrived quickly, officially pronounced the time of death, and made the other arrangements that were his to make. Jeanette had found a neighbor to come in and sit with Tabitha, grateful there was someone willing to lend a hand, and then gladly accepted Dr. Swenson’s offer of a ride home.

  “You’re not going to get mud on the duvet, are you?” Sophie asked, plopping down on the other side of the bed.

  “Of course not. My feet are nowhere near the duvet.”

  “But what if you fell asleep and forgot and rolled over and bent your legs? I think that would be bad. Don’t you think that would be bad?”

  Jeanette groaned and sat up. “Fine, I’ll change my clothes like a regular person.”

  “Excellent.” Sophie beamed as Jeanette pulled herself upright and began taking off her outerwear. “Now, are you going to ask me how my day went yesterday?”

  “How did your day go yesterday?” Jeanette asked dutifully, struggling with the buttons on her shoes. She was too tired for her fingers to work properly.

  “I’m so glad you asked! I was sent over to work with Dr. Westerly, and he happens to be a baby doctor. I don’t mean that he delivers them, but that he treats them after they’re born, so we spent the whole day with little babies. Well, some of them were older, like two, but most of them were little, and I was in heaven.”

  Jeanette smiled at her friend. “Just how many children are you and Dr. Gregory planning to have?”

  “Well, I wasn’t sure at first. I mean, motherhood … that’s so overwhelming to think about. But after everything that happened yesterday, I plan to have six, but I haven’t asked him what he thinks yet. I should probably do that fairly soon, shouldn’t I?”

  Jeanette laughed. “I think that’s a very good idea, especially since your wedding is coming up even sooner than Laura’s.”

  Sophie looked thoughtful. “What if he doesn’t want six? What if he only wants four? Do you think we could compromise at five?”

  “I have no clue. Again, you’ll need to discuss it with him.” Jeanette pulled off her damp stockings and put on dry ones. If she never saw another slushy road in her life . . . she couldn’t wait for winter to be over.

  “You’re right. Well, now that I’m no longer worried about the safety of the bedclothes, I’ll let you rest.” Sophie left the room, and Jeanette shook her head. She supposed it was a good thing Sophie hadn’t let her fall asleep all wrapped up in her coat and wet shoes—that wasn’t healthy—but she certainly would have enjoyed that nap however long it lasted. As it was, she was expected at Dr. Swenson’s at two thirty that afternoon, and she was grateful it wasn’t any sooner.

  ***

  Mrs. Everett knocked on Jeanette’s door and startled her out of a deep sleep. She’d been caught up somewhere in a white, misty place with music and flashes of golden light. It was haunting and yet beautiful at the same time, and being pulled from it so suddenly was a sharp disappointment. She wished she could stay.

  “I’m sorry to wake you, but you do need to get ready for your assignments today,” the housekeeper said, bustling over to the window and throwing the curtains wide. “You’ll be glad to see that we’ve got some sunshine, the real stuff, not that gray murky business we’ve been dealing with all week.”

  “That’s good.” Jeanette rolled onto her back and pressed her hand to her head. “What time is it?”

  “Just after one o’clock. I have lunch waiting for you, and also a hot bath.”

  “You’re too good to us.” A hot bath was just the incentive Jeanette needed to sit up and put her feet on the floor. She wasn’t sure anything else could have done it.

  “You girls work hard, and the doctor, too. I can’t save lives, but if I can help you in any way, I’m glad to do it.” Mrs. Everett paused as she looked down at Jeanette’s shoes. “You have an extra pair, I trust?”

  “I do.”

  “Well, let me put these on the fire grate downstairs. They’ll never dry any other way.” She gathered up the wet mess and left the room.

  Jeanette pulled a clean dress and apron from her wardrobe, and after soaking in the warm water for a little while, she felt ready to face the remainder of the day. Watching Mrs. Brimley pass had done something to her, something she couldn’t deny. She had been brought in touch with the divine in some way that was indescribable. It reminded her of a similar experience she’d had back in Topeka. What was it about the threshold between life and death that touched her in this way?

  After fixing her hair, she rummaged through her bag to make sure she had everything she needed, and she found the letter she’d started to Phillip the night before. She was now a bit rushed for time, as she’d let herself soak longer than usual, and she still needed to eat, but she wanted to finish the letter and get it sent off to him. She sat down and picked up her pen.

  My patient did pass in the night and was carried off on a moonbeam to the tune of a song only her daughter could hear. I was a bit jealous, actually, wishing I could hear it too, but I don’t suppose it would have meant as much to me because I wasn’t familiar with the music. I felt as though I was witnessing a secret moment, maybe even an unwanted spectator. All I know is that the passage of a soul is sacred, and that I was even allowed to stand at the doorway was an honor.

  I need to go, but I’ll write again soon.

  Jeanette

  Chapter Five

  When Jeanette arrived at Dr. Swenson’s that afternoon, he informed her that they were taking a little jaunt out of the city. An old friend of his had asked for his advice, and he was taking the time to give it.

  The first part of the carriage ride was pleasant, the part that took them along paved streets to the edge of town. The farther away they got from the city, though, the rougher the roads became, and the jouncing set Jeanette’s teeth on edge.

  “So, Nurse Anderson, I took your advice,” Dr. Swenson said as they turned onto a tree-lined lane.

  “You did? Which advice was that?” she asked, not able to remember giving any.

  “I sent a note around to Carmela Fitzpatrick this morning.”

  Ah, now she remembered. “I see.” Best not to sound too eager—he might decide not to share after all.

  “I asked if she’d enjoy a game of chess.”

  Jeanette pressed her lips together to hide a smile. “I didn’t mean for you to suggest that game exactly—just that she might like to do something together.”

  “Well, as it turns out, she happens to enjoy chess, and she sent a note back immediately saying that she’d have a board set up tomorrow evening at seven. She also said something about little ham sandwiches and cake.”

  There was no hiding Jeanette’s smile that time. “It sounds like you’ll have a nice time.”

  “If I don’t, I’m putting the blame entirely on your shoulders, Nurse Anderson.”

  Jeanette held up both hands. “Oh, no. I only helped yo
u create the opportunity. Now it’s up to you what you do with it.”

  He shook his head. “I don’t even know why I listened to you. I can’t imagine what good can come of this.”

  “A friend,” she replied. “And there’s no substitute on earth for a good friend.”

  The home they approached was as close to a Southern plantation as Jeanette would imagine they’d find this far north. Vast lawns stretched out on either side of them and she visualized what it must be like in the spring, when the grass was fresh and green. Now it was acres of snow, untouched but for windblown branches and the footprints of animals and birds.

  “My friend’s name is William Hartley,” Dr. Swenson said as they neared the house. “We’ve known each other since we were boys. He went into the law for roughly the same reasons I chose medicine, but he was much more successful than I. He retired last year and has been here on the family estate ever since, living the life of a country gentleman.”

  “And what are we discussing with him today?” Jeanette asked.

  “It seems his life of luxury has caught up with him. His doctor believes he’s suffering from a disease of the liver caused by fatty foods and alcohol, and he’s eager to prove that doctor wrong.”

  “Have you seen your friend recently?”

  Dr. Swenson brought the carriage to a halt near the front doors. “No, I haven’t. But given what I know of his love for rich foods, I’m inclined to side with his doctor before I’ve even examined him. It’s never a good idea to go into a case with a preconceived notion about what you’ll find lest it skew your perceptions, but at the same time, you need to know the patient’s history to arrive at the correct conclusion. It’s a bit of a balancing act.”

  A groom stepped forward and took charge of the horses, and Dr. Swenson and Jeanette alighted and walked up the front steps. The arrangement was similar to Mrs. Fitzpatrick’s home—the door was answered by a servant and they were welcomed into an elegant foyer. This time, though, they didn’t have to climb a staircase, but were shown into a study off to the left after they surrendered their coats.

  “Percy.” The older gentleman seated by the fire came to his feet and held out both hands. The two men greeted each other, then Dr. Swenson introduced Jeanette.

  “Nurse Anderson, it’s a pleasure,” Mr. Hartley said, giving her a slight bow. “I trust Percy is teaching you everything he knows.”

  “He’s been very helpful,” Jeanette replied.

  “We’ve only visited three patients together so far, and you’re the third,” Dr. Swenson replied. “I imagine that by the end of this term, I’ll have been able to teach her at least something. Now, tell me more about your condition and the recommendations of this doctor of yours.”

  Mr. Hartley bade them all to sit. Dr. Swenson took the other wing-backed chair in front of the fireplace, and Jeanette sat on the edge of a small couch nearby. She disliked couches as a general rule—she always wanted to flump down on them, and she couldn’t look professional and flump at the same time. Sitting on the edge would have to do.

  “His name is Dr. Moyers, and he’s a good fellow. He took care of both my parents until they passed, and he’s never given me any reason to disbelieve him. But Percy, he’s given me six months to live, and I can’t accept that.”

  “I can certainly understand why not.” Dr. Swenson looked around the study. “Why do you have it so dark in here?”

  Mr. Hartley lifted a shoulder. “I can’t say why, exactly—we just typically use this room in the evenings and don’t worry about things like curtains and so forth.”

  Dr. Swenson rose and crossed the room, then threw the curtains wide. As the light from outside illuminated the study, Jeanette looked at their patient. He had a definite yellow cast to his skin, most noticeable in the whites of his eyes. Dr. Swenson returned to his seat.

  “What sort of examination did he perform?” he asked.

  “He pushed various parts of my abdomen, looked in my eyes, rattled some bones—gracious, Percy, I don’t remember all he did.” Mr. Hartley paused and took a sip from a glass at his elbow. “Oh, I’m sorry. I haven’t offered you anything. Marvin!” he bellowed.

  A tall young man in a black suit immediately appeared in the doorway. “Yes, sir?”

  “Have Cook prepare a tea tray for my guests. Unless you’d care for something stronger?” Mr. Hartley turned and addressed Dr. Swenson, who shook his head.

  “Very good, sir.” Marvin disappeared as quickly as he’d come.

  “Anyway, Dr. Moyers said he consulted with some colleagues, which seems like poppycock because how can they present an opinion without seeing me themselves, and it’s been decided that I’m to die.” He uncrossed his legs and crossed them again the other way. “As if life and death can be determined so easily.”

  The tea tray must have been in progress already because Marvin returned just then. He set the tray in the center of the seating area. “Shall I pour?” he asked.

  “I’d be glad to,” Jeanette interjected. She wasn’t sure of her purpose here, and it would be nice to have something to do.

  “Very good, miss.” Marvin stepped back and all but faded into the wall.

  Jeanette poured the tea for each, then sipped at hers while the men continued speaking. The little cakes were very good, and the candied fruit. If nothing else came of this visit, at least she’d gotten a nice snack out of it.

  “Well, Nurse Anderson, shall we proceed?” Dr. Swenson said, bringing her attention back into focus.

  “Yes, certainly.” She placed her cup and saucer on the tray and stood, following the two men up the stairs. She sighed inwardly. She’d been so glad to avoid the long climb.

  “These are my quarters,” Mr. Hartley said, pausing outside two double doors. “Allow me to check for my wife. She sometimes naps during this time of day.”

  “Of course,” Dr. Swenson said. He and Jeanette waited in the hall until they were invited in.

  “Now, William,” Dr. Swenson said as he placed his bag on a chair, “I’ll ask you to disrobe to your undergarments or a nightshirt, whichever you prefer. Nurse Anderson has worked with patients both male and female and has no qualms.” He glanced at her as though to verify, and she gave him a slight nod.

  “I’ll be back in a moment,” Mr. Hartley said, vanishing behind a dressing screen.

  Jeanette glanced around while they waited. There was something about this room that reminded her of Phillip. She didn’t know what it was—the browns that resembled his eyes, maybe, or a hint of soap that might be something like what he used. Or perhaps he was just lingering in the back of her mind and anything would remind her of him when she wasn’t busy with her tasks. She hoped Mrs. Everett had been able to send her letter off to be posted like she’d asked just before she left.

  When Mr. Hartley returned, he wore a crisp white nightgown, and he lay down on the bed as Dr. Swenson instructed.

  “Nurse Anderson, please tell us what you’ve observed of our patient so far,” Dr. Swenson said, motioning to her with his head.

  That was unexpected. Jeanette swallowed. “He appears to have jaundice, sir, which is yellowing of the skin and also of the whites of his eyes. He sipped a tumbler of some alcoholic beverage or another as we visited—I wasn’t able to determine what sort. I don’t know enough about him to determine his personality, and I certainly don’t blame him for being concerned about his situation, but he does seem a bit irate.” She didn’t glance at Mr. Hartley as she said this—it was rather presumptuous. “And again, while I don’t know his appearance generally, I’d say that his abdomen seems to be somewhat distended, but his arms and legs seem thin.”

  “That’s a fair assessment,” Dr. Swenson said, giving her a nod. “And what conclusions do you draw from this?”

  “I can only guess until the examination, sir, but I would guess that his liver is enlarged, causing the distension of his abdomen, but he’s losing weight in his extremities because of the diseased liver.”

  �
��You’re letting your nurse diagnose me, are you?” Mr. Hartley grumbled. “If I wanted that sort of opinion, I’d call my housekeeper in here and tell her to insult me.”

  “I agree with Nurse Anderson on every point,” Dr. Swenson said. “And now I’ll perform an abdominal examination.”

  He placed his hands on Mr. Hartley’s stomach and pressed here and there, a look of concentration on his face. From time to time, Mr. Hartley winced or sucked air in through his teeth, and at last, Dr. Swenson nodded and took a step back.

  “Your liver is in terrible condition, my friend,” he said. “I wish I could tell you any differently, but I have to say, I believe Dr. Moyers is correct.”

  Mr. Hartley sat up and swung his legs over the edge of the bed. “And there’s nothing I can do about it?”

  Dr. Swenson looked at him thoughtfully. “If you were to give up all alcohol and fatty foods, perhaps get yourself out into the air from time to time and increase your exercise, you might be able to turn the tide, or at least delay the inevitable. But I can’t promise that because I can’t look inside you and determine the extent of the damage. Exploratory surgery would be a foolish thing to do, so we must deal with the facts as they stand before us.”

  “So a dramatic change of diet and lifestyle, but with no guarantee of success,” Mr. Hartley replied. “I could give up all my little luxuries and still die in six months, and what good would that do me?”

  “Or you could give up your little luxuries and prolong your life,” Dr. Swenson replied. “Come now, William. Does your drink really add so much to your enjoyment that you can’t give it up for the sake of your health?”

  “Curse it all, Percy, it’s more than just that.” The man scowled. “How many times have you met up with friends and been offered a drink? It’s a social thing, a join-the-club thing. The men retire after dinner to have a brandy and a cigar. And on cold days like this, nothing warms you up inside quite like it.”

  “I don’t disagree with you,” Dr. Swenson said. “But you need to decide how much social standing a man can have when he’s dead from liver disease.”