Place of Peace

by Debra Diaz

  “Thank you, Ethan,” her father was saying. “I shall call on Dr. Lenoir at once.”

  “I think he’ll be able to help,” Ethan replied. “He’s treated a number of such cases with remarkable success. You won’t even have to convince her to go to him, for he will come to her.”

  “That’s wonderful. That’s a great load off my mind.”

  They must be talking about her mother, Genny decided. For a moment, she had wondered if Ethan were planning to divorce her. But surely even he could not be so ill bred! They rode in the family carriage back to the train station, where their bags already waited. Genny noticed an expression in Ethan’s eyes as he looked at her that she could not interpret, but he looked almost as though…he’d come to an understanding about something.

  * * * *

  Valerie Ward sat at the piano in her new house, her fingers moving pensively over the keys in a slow and haunting rendition of Beautiful Dreamer. She had an odd feeling that this moment couldn’t be real, that she’d somehow become detached from reality. It wasn’t an unfamiliar sensation, for her.

  She had just consented to marry Mr. Theodore Bradley, forty years old, a widower, the father of one of her pupils. He had three other children. She was fond of Mr. Bradley; he was gruff but kind, he was fond of her, he needed a wife for himself and a mother for his children. She had thought over his proposal for nearly a month, and decided it was the most feasible thing for her to do.

  After all, she was eighteen years old. She was tired of wondering if there would ever be anyone else who could take Ethan Carey’s place in her heart. Of course, there would not. She’d loved him since she was twelve.

  That year her new kitten had somehow contrived to get out of the house and find his way into the street, where he had the misfortune of attempting to cross just as a fast-moving vehicle of some kind careened around the corner. Ethan had witnessed the incident, had found and buried the kitten before she could see it.

  She could still remember the look on his face when he told her about it. He had been direct, as it was his nature to be, but so kind, so full of compassion. He had held her when she cried, and she had loved him…first with a girlish devotion, then with the deep romantic love of a woman. And had known from the beginning that it was no use at all.

  It wasn’t in her nature to be forward; she had contempt for feminine wiles and scorned the idea of trying to force him to notice that she was a woman, and that she didn’t wish to be viewed as his little sister. She refused to resort to coquetry. It would only embarrass him and make her appear foolish. She knew him well enough to know that.

  She knew and understood him far better than Genny could ever hope to.

  Besides, she thought, her father ought to be looking for another wife, and he certainly didn’t need a spinster daughter on his hands. Perhaps, with her gone, he would see the need for an intimate, lasting relationship with some nice widow. Sometimes she felt that he was a very lonely man.

  What was that verse in the Bible, about setting one’s hand to the plow and not looking back? That was where she’d made her mistake, always looking back, living over moments that had really meant nothing, dreaming of what might have been. Now was the time for resolution, now was the time to set her sights on something real and solid, and never, never look back.

  CHAPTER NINETEEN

  Genny knew she’d made a spectacle of herself. Her cheeks burned when she considered what everyone at the hotel must be thinking of her, especially since Ethan had appeared and taken her home as if she were a naughty child.

  She resolved it would never happen again. She had learned her lesson. She adopted a demeanor of great dignity, moving and speaking with the care and caution of a matron of fifty. There were no idle words. She never spoke except to answer a question or to make some casual remark.

  Her brick wall was almost complete. Her eyes became tired and sad, so that she hardly looked like the same person. I’ve become my mother, she thought one day, staring into the mirror at her dull and dreary eyes. Bereft of joy, of hope, of peace. Her mother had turned to alcohol, which only made matters worse. Genny had too much pride for that. She would suffer in silence, she would harden her heart, and in so doing she would make him suffer, too.

  She tried to pray about her problem … for comfort, for solace, but she had a nagging feeling that there was something she was supposed to do, maybe even to forgive Ethan. But how could she, when he hadn’t asked for it and didn’t even know she knew about his affair? Maybe she should tell him she knew. But then suppose he refused to give up that woman when she asked him to? Should she divorce him? Somehow that prospect was even worse than her current misery.

  The summer passed in a kind of haze.

  Ethan’s practice kept growing. He worked almost constantly and couldn’t seem to find the right time to deal with Genny, though no matter where he was or what he was doing, his thoughts turned inexorably to her. She was suffering some sort of emotional crisis, he knew, but what had triggered it remained a mystery. Perhaps the abuse she’d suffered at the hands of that idiot, Malone, had something to do with it. It had to have been a terrifying experience. No doubt she would feel more secure once he was imprisoned, or hung. The man was still awaiting trial; he had a long record of offenses against women.

  Or, perhaps her family was at fault. He had seen, from the moment he met them, that her home hadn’t been a happy one; he had witnessed the lack of unity and affection that had characterized his own family. How much influence did such factors play in a person’s emotional development? He wished he’d focused more on psychological disorders in his studies.

  He realized he’d thought of all this before, countless times. Sometimes he felt like banging his head against the wall, and thought with bitter irony that he, who had been called brilliant by many of his peers, was completely baffled by his own wife. Certainly he’d never been brilliant in his relationships with women.

  The idea that Caroline Adams might have something to do with Genny’s changed attitude never entered his mind. He was unaware that Genny even knew of his former fiancée’s existence, and it didn’t occur to him that she might have witnessed the scene with Caroline. He thought nothing of their conversation, or how it might sound to Genny if she happened to overhear it. He’d been a doctor talking to a patient.

  He decided she simply feared commitment, due perhaps to her troubled childhood. Perhaps she really had felt forced into marriage. For that he could only blame himself. And yet, he knew, he knew she’d been happy the first night and day of their marriage. He could only conclude that she was one of those people who shied away from feelings of joy and contentment, out of the fear of being disappointed or hurt.

  His attempt to force a confrontation at the hotel had failed utterly, and she had grown more aloof than ever. But sooner or later, he thought, she would have to make a choice, for he would not be content with a sham of a marriage.

  He was diverted by another troublesome matter…the appearance of yellow fever in Memphis. After years of respite, he feared that the city was in for a bad time. It had started near the Mississippi River, in a slum area known incongruously as “Happy Hollow. There, people lived in total disregard for the niceties of sanitation and shared their unwholesome habitat not only with their goats and chickens but with rodents of incredible proportions.

  Boxcars packed with carbolic acid and lime were shipped to the train stations, and these were distributed throughout the filthy streets by the few remaining policemen and firemen. The gas streetlights were turned on without being lit in an effort to “purify” the air with their fumes, a precaution scorned by several physicians, who maintained that the air had nothing to do with the progression of yellow fever.

  By mid-August panic had struck the city. Businesses shut down, entire families disappeared, taking with them nothing that couldn’t be stuffed into their carpetbags. They left their heirlooms, their possessions of any value; some of them left dinner sitting on the table. Chivalry died alt
ogether as men forced themselves onto the packed trains at the expense of women and children. It was a wild, unplanned exodus. Even the narrow, dirt roads became jammed with people on foot as well as the desperate drivers of any contraption with wheels. They fled to Louisville, Atlanta, New York; refugees poured into Nashville and neighboring towns, bringing with them horrifying tales of the death carts, the stench, the gangs that roamed the streets, the pillaging of empty homes.

  Finally, only one bank and a few businesses were left open. No church services were held, for the congregations had left, and in many cases, so had the pastors. As for the city officials…most of them had taken flight when the first few cases appeared. An acute shortage of doctors and nurses for the hundreds left sick and dying complicated an already intolerable situation.

  Ethan said nothing of this to Genny. She learned of it from her friends and from the newspapers. Her husband was silent these days, with a grim silence she’d never seen in him before. Several cases of the fever erupted in Nashville. She lived in a state of dread lest he contract the disease, or cause her to catch it, although he said these people were already sick when they got here and the disease was not going around the city. She dragged out one of his heavy medical volumes and read over the list of symptoms: severe headache, high fever, dry tongue, vomiting…and after these initial signs there were two or three days of remission, followed by the violent vomiting of blood, and jaundice. Death usually came in a week or so. However, if the patient recovered, he was immune to the disease for the rest of his life. Although, she had heard Ethan remark that he had known a few people to have it twice, if the first case was a light one.

  The news grew worse every day. Relief supplies flooded in from other cities, but Memphis cried out for more doctors, more nurses.

  “I hope you’re not thinking of going,” Genny said, watching Ethan as he read the papers one evening after supper.

  “Going where?”

  “To Memphis, of course. It would be like committing suicide.”

  “Would you care?” he asked.

  She looked down at her sewing. “Yes, I would care. I don’t see why I should be required to sacrifice my own husband for people who should have known better than to let this thing get started in the first place.”

  He didn’t reply, and when she looked up he was watching her with a direct, musing gaze that shamed her somehow, and made her wish she hadn’t spoken.

  * * * *

  Southern twilights, whether humid and hot, whether clear and cool or cloud-laden and cold, were unfailingly filled with an inexpressible peace. Genny thought there must be no quiet like the comforting quiet of dusk, when families retired to their porches or parlors, small children were put to bed, and everything became so still that the sounds of crickets and cicadas seemed to fill the whole world.

  She sat on the wide veranda and rocked in her rocking chair, letting the stillness fill her mind and body, as if the beauty of the setting sun and the gold-streaked sky could fill up the emptiness inside her. To some extent, it did, for as always there was something innately satisfying about the beauty of nature, and yet…something within her was not satisfied, some emotion cried out for release, and found none.

  She caught a glimpse of two figures walking together down the tree-lined street and felt a sharp twinge of irritation. It was Geoff and Valerie, walking from their own house a few blocks away. Anyone else she would have welcomed, but these two knew about Ethan’s mistress, she was certain, and in their presence she felt like a fool.

  “Evening, Genny,” Geoff said, taking off his hat with a flourish as he and Valerie mounted the steps. “Is Ethan not here? This won’t do at all. Valerie has an announcement to make.”

  “He said he was going riding, and I believe he planned to stop at the hospital on the way back. He shouldn’t be much longer, if there were no emergencies.” She added curiously, “Do tell me your news, Valerie.”

  Geoff hobbled across the porch and sat down on the swing beside his daughter. Valerie replied, in an even tone, “I’m going to be married, Genny. Next month. To Mr. Theodore Bradley.”

  “Oh,” Genny said blankly. To Mr. Bradley! That old man with jowls and chin whiskers and four bratty children! Valerie must have lost her mind.

  “Well,” she said at last, “I wish you every happiness, of course, but isn’t this awfully sudden?”

  “We’ve been engaged for a while. I just haven’t told anyone. It will be a small wedding, but I hope you and Ethan will come.”

  “Of course,” she said automatically.

  Valerie’s expression became fixed and unreadable. Genny followed her gaze, at the same time hearing the sound of a horse’s hooves on the street. Geoff cast a quick look at Valerie, who remained motionless, until Ethan waved at them before disappearing around the corner of the house. Valerie lifted her hand in an awkward gesture and lowered it again, all without a flicker of expression.

  Genny was still too stunned to make polite conversation, so the three of them were silent except for the creak of the swing and the somewhat agitated rustle of Genny’s fan. Ethan appeared around the corner and climbed the steps, clad in tan riding breeches, a wide-sleeved white shirt and black boots. He still carried his crop.

  “Hello Valerie, Geoff — it’s good to see you.” But he didn’t look particularly happy to see them, and Genny knew something must have happened at the hospital. She was beginning to be able to read the signs.

  “Is anything wrong?” Valerie asked quickly.

  Ethan sat down on the porch railing next to one of the big pillars and leaned against it. “Agatha Reid just died,” he answered. “Remember her, Geoff? Our old schoolteacher.”

  “Yes. That’s too bad, Ethan.”

  “Is she the one you’ve been waiting for?” Valerie asked.

  Ethan nodded. “I promised her a long time ago I’d be with her when the end came, if I possibly could. It was just luck, though, that I happened to be there. And you’ll be interested to know, Valerie, that — Mrs. Hudson — had her baby last night. A girl. Both are doing well.”

  “Oh, I’m so glad. Is she going to keep her?”

  “No. A couple has already taken her.”

  Genny didn’t understand this conversation and felt left out. She said, “Ethan, Valerie has brought us some news.”

  “What is it, Valerie?”

  There was the barest hesitation. “I’m marrying Theodore Bradley next month.”

  Ethan’s eyes met Valerie’s in a quick moment of communication that was not lost on Genny, though she didn’t understand it and again felt excluded. But before he could move or speak, the front door opened and Myrtle Mae waddled out onto the porch. It was so rare for the woman to leave the kitchen or the room beyond it where she lived that everyone merely stared at her in astonishment.

  “Oh, Doctor, thank the Lord you’ve come. Matthew done come in and tole me somethin’ I think you oughta know right off.”

  “What is it, Myrtle Mae?”

  “Well, it’s that man that jumped on Miz Carey back in the spring — he done escaped out of jail this mornin’.”

  “Escaped?” Genny gasped, her hand flying to her throat.

  “But that ain’t all. He done been tellin’ some other man in the jail how he gonna kill you, Dr. Carey. Matthew say the police aimin’ to come and warn you. He say — ” Her voice rose in a shriek as something caught her eye, and automatically they all followed her gaze.

  A figure stepped around the corner of the house facing the woods, and then Slade Malone, as if conjured out of thin air by Myrtle Mae’s words, stood before them. He held a gun pointed directly at Ethan.

  “How nice to be announced in so timely a fashion,” Malone said, in a voice thick with sarcasm. “Providential, isn’t it? Actually, I’ve been waiting for you for some time. Don’t move, Carey. Or any of you.”

  But Ethan had already moved, almost imperceptibly, so that he was now standing beside the railing rather than sitting on it. Genny sat in shoc
k; she’d been so sure that the nightmare of Slade Malone was over. Geoff and Valerie likewise sat frozen on the swing, and Myrtle Mae, after one deep moan, put her hand over her mouth and stared.

  Ethan said, in a smooth, quiet voice that sent a chill down Genny’s spine, “I believe we do have some unfinished business, Mr. Malone.”

  Malone’s filthy clothes hung limply around him, a long tear showed on his shirt, as if he’d caught it on a bush, his hair was streaked with grime. He bore little resemblance to the immaculately-dressed man in Lloyd Grayson’s house a century ago.

  He climbed up the porch steps, the gun still trained on Ethan. He smiled unpleasantly. “And all because of a woman. Is she worth it, Doctor Carey? Oh, I can answer that. I watched her while I was waiting for you. I’ll never forget those moments in the carriage with you, Mrs. Carey. I almost came out to take you into the woods and — ”

  “This is between you and me,” Ethan interrupted. “Why not send the others into the house?”

  Malone laughed. “And have them run screaming out the back door for the police? You must think me a fool, Doctor. No. I am going to kill you, and it really doesn’t matter if there are witnesses or not, because they intend to hang me anyway. I’ve killed before, or did you not know that? You should never have crossed me. I think I will have to kill your wife, too, because she was so rude to me.”

  Genny found her voice. “They’ll lynch you before nightfall!”

  “Genny,” Ethan said, standing perfectly still, never taking his eyes off the other man, “be quiet.”

  Malone laughed. “That’s it — put her in her place. She certainly needs to be, the little — ”

  Myrtle Mae chose that moment to faint, falling so ponderously that she shook the floorboards of the porch. Geoff moved to assist her. Malone’s attention swung toward them momentarily, and the instant it did so Ethan whipped out with his riding crop. Malone yelped with pain and dropped the gun, but not before he squeezed the trigger, causing it to explode with a terrifying noise. Genny screamed and covered her ears.