Idanha Hotel

by Smith, Dean Wesley

  “Your heart is giving out,” Carol said. “We want to try to let you rest, keep you on drugs, and get you to the point where we can fix it.”

  Megan nodded. She could tell that Carol was about to cry and was just trying to be strong because that was what she did.

  Megan needed to do something to help Carol. Death didn’t scare Megan. She had known it was coming her entire life. But making Carol suffer again scared her more than she wanted to think about.

  She indicated that Carol should come down close.

  “Will my special heart in the future keep growing even if I die?”

  Carol nodded. “But don’t think that way. We’ll get you through the next five weeks.”

  Megan said simply. “Just remember that part of me is there.”

  Carol smiled. “I could never forget. Just rest. Please?”

  With that, Megan let the blackness take her.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE

  April 17th, 2019

  Boise, Idaho

  CAROL LISTENED TO Megan’s struggling heart for a moment and then made sure Megan was resting comfortably before leaving to find Dr. James. There was nothing good about this situation.

  Nothing at all.

  Dr. James was waiting for her in his office and indicated she close the door. He was one of the best, if not the best heart surgeon in the western part of the United States. And he was a very nice person as well, unlike many surgeons.

  The office was fairly large, with a massive oak desk with three stacks of files on it. There was a couch, what looked like a small wet-bar, and a closet off of one side next to a bathroom. The entire place was decorated in brown tones and it felt comfortable.

  “You know she’s not going to make it,” he said simply as Carol closed the door and sat down across from him.

  “I know,” Carol said, nodding. “I am just hoping to give her a few more weeks, maybe a month.”

  “Not going to happen,” Dr. James said, shaking his head sadly. “Her heart is so damaged I am amazed she has lived this long. That should have been fixed when she was a teenager.”

  Considering that Megan grew up in a small cabin outside a small Montana town in the 1880s, that really wouldn’t have been possible.

  Carol knew the answer to her next question, but had to ask it just to be sure, to make sure she had missed nothing.

  “A full bypass wouldn’t help her, I assume?” Carol asked. “I’m grasping at straws here.”

  Dr. James shook his head. “It’s the main body of her heart that is the most damaged, more than likely at birth. And everything around her heart has been damaged as well. She would never survive a bypass and it likely wouldn’t work even if she did.”

  Carol nodded. “I knew that. I studied the images of her heart as well. Just hoping against hope there was something I had missed.”

  “Sorry I couldn’t toss you a straw on that one, Doctor. I doubt your friend will make it through the night no matter what any of us do.”

  “My diagnosis as well,” Carol said, standing. “And as Megan said, thank you for helping her.”

  “Don’t forget to take care of yourself through this as well, Doctor.”

  He stood as she stood and shook her hand across the desk.

  “I will,” Carol said.

  She didn’t know how, but she knew she would.

  There was nothing more Dr. James could say as she left and headed back to the woman she loved.

  The woman who she now had to watch die for the third time.

  CHAPTER THIRTY

  April 17th, 2019

  Boise, Idaho

  MEGAN AWOKE SLOWLY.

  The pain in her chest still felt like something huge had kicked her. And the beeping kept going on and on and on.

  She blinked her eyes a few times until she could focus.

  The white ceiling with the holes was still above her and whatever was sticking out of her nose felt like a ham bone it was so large.

  “That sound is very annoying,” Megan said, her voice raspy.

  Carol appeared above her, smiling. “Not to me, my love. That is the sound of your heart.”

  “I hope my new one won’t be so annoying,” Megan said.

  With that, Carol actually smiled, which was wonderful to see.

  Megan loved that smile, loved that woman looking down on her more than she could ever imagine loving anyone. At least if she was to die, she had had the chance to actually feel love.

  Carol squeezed Megan’s hand slightly and Megan squeezed back.

  “What time is it?” Megan asked.

  “Just before midnight,” Carol said.

  “I would be about to put my pies for the night into the oven. Then for the next hour I would stoke the oven just right and check the pies every five minutes.”

  Megan smiled at that memory, at how much she loved to bake.

  Above her, Carol smiled as well. “Always great pies.”

  “You know I could bake us a wedding cake as well. Not back then, but in this time.”

  Megan imagined how wonderful that would be.

  “Five layers. Very tall. White cake, fine decorations on it. I would promise it would be delicious. I can almost taste it right now.”

  Carol coughed and nodded, tears in her eyes. “You will bake that cake, my love. And it will be wonderful.”

  “Not this me,” Megan said, “but another me will get that wonderful task.”

  “Don’t say that,” Carol said.

  Megan looked up into the tear-filled eyes of the woman she loved more than anything. “Do me a favor?”

  “Anything,” Carol said.

  “Don’t give up on me. Give my new heart to the next me.”

  “I will never give up on you,” Carol said.

  “Good,” Megan said, nodding and closing her eyes. “I really want to bake that wedding cake for us.”

  The annoying beeping changed.

  And at that moment the pain in her chest felt like she had been stabbed.

  Then blackness took her.

  PART FOUR

  A Fourth Chance

  CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE

  Four months earlier…

  June 3rd, 1901

  Boise, Idaho

  MEGAN TOOK OFF her long blue apron after a long night’s shift. She had just checked to make sure all her rolls were being stored correctly for the morning breakfast rush, and her pies and cakes were stored on racks cooling.

  Around her the large kitchen of the Idanha Hotel was coming alive with breakfast orders and preparation for the day. The smells of sizzling ham and frying eggs were mixing with the sweetness of her pies and cakes.

  At night she often had the kitchen all to herself. She liked it that way, but she never minded when the breakfast cooks arrived and the wait staff began to prepare the dining room.

  She followed the same routine every morning before leaving for a breath of fresh air and then a bath and long sleep. Taking off her apron was the last detail in that routine.

  The hotel had only been open for a short five months, and yet in just five months, Megan couldn’t imagine being anywhere else. If she had her wish, she would just keep baking and die here.

  She knew that outside the early summer air would be brisk, but not too cool. She loved that about Boise summers, how the evenings cooled off even though the days were hot. So even if she only stepped outside for a few seconds, the morning air helped her.

  “Mrs. Taber,” Chef Pickner said from behind her. “There are three early diners who would like a moment of your time.”

  She turned and looked into the smiling face of the man who had hired her. He was shorter than her by a good five inches and very round, seeming to play into the look that most thought chefs should be. His hair was balding and his eyebrows as bushy as she had ever seen. They often caught flour or bits of food in them and one of the other chefs was always giving him the sign to clean off his face.

  She was about to object when he handed her a wicker baske
t full of her freshly-made bread covered in a white towel to keep them warm.

  “Smothered in butter as you instruct,” the chef said, smiling. “Just deliver these to the table near the fireplace. Two men and a woman.”

  She nodded and smoothed down her dress. “Am I presentable?”

  The chef nodded. “As always.”

  He then turned away with a smile, leaving her standing there with the basket of breads in her hand.

  She had no idea what this was about, but it seemed she had no choice.

  The morning summer light through the big windows seemed almost orange in color, promising a beautiful sunrise over the mountains. The large stone fireplace sat dark and empty, a reminder of the colder winter days. The high-ceilinged room felt cooler than the kitchen had felt, but still comfortable. And the ceiling fans were not yet turned on, so the room felt quiet.

  Later in the day she knew the windows on both sides would be opened allowing a light cross-breeze to keep the air as cool as possible and moving.

  All the dining tables were made of polished oak and covered in fine tan tablecloths. Cloth napkins were folded perfectly at every place and the silverware gleamed in the morning light.

  Only four tables of diners this early in the morning occupied the large room. In short order there would be many more. Summer breakfast was the restaurant’s best time.

  The three early diners she had been instructed to go talk to were sitting near the window facing Main Street. They all seemed to be in a good mood as they were laughing at something one of them must have said.

  Dr. Stevens was one of the diners and she smiled at that. He had tried to save her husband all those years ago after her husband fell and hit his head. Then Dr. Stevens had helped her get a job in a kitchen, which had started her baking life.

  She owed Dr. Stevens and loved talking with him when she could. Thankfully, in the six years since her husband had died, she hadn’t needed to go see Dr. Stevens for any medical problems other than the lightheadedness. He had said simply and bluntly that she had a bad heart and there was nothing that could be done. She had been told the same thing when she was younger and she just accepted it.

  Except for being lightheaded at times, she felt wonderfully healthy, something she was grateful for every day.

  The other two at the table she felt she knew from around town, but didn’t know them by name.

  As she approached, both men stood.

  Dr. Stevens stuck out his hand and with a smile said, “Megan, you are looking wonderful as always.”

  “Thank you, Doctor,” she said smiling back.

  “This is Bonnie and Duster Kendal,” Dr. Stevens said, introducing her. “This is Mrs. Megan Taber.”

  Duster Kendal bowed slightly and Bonnie said, “Wonderful meeting you.”

  “Can you join us for a few moments?” Duster asked, moving to hold a chair for her.

  “Oh, I’m such a fright,” Megan said. “I’ve been baking all night.”

  “Just for a moment,” Bonnie said. “You look wonderful.”

  Megan smiled and sat down, enjoying the compliment from such an attractive woman.

  Megan felt honored to be with Dr. Stevens and she knew of Bonnie and Duster by reputation around town as well.

  “First off,” Dr. Stevens said, opening the cloth covering the bread basket she had brought and pulling out a piece of warm bread glistening with melted butter. “I want to once again compliment you on this bread. I have no idea how you do it.”

  “It is wonderful,” Bonnie said, smiling at Megan.

  “Of that I can’t argue in the slightest,” Duster said and took the basket, helping himself to a piece as well.

  “Thank you,” Megan said, blushing. “Just having you all enjoy the bread makes my day.”

  “We enjoy it everyday,” Dr. Stevens said, laughing.

  Megan could feel herself blushing even more. Then for the next few minutes they talked about the weather and how warm the summer was promising to be and how they were all looking forward to the warmth after the cold weather.

  And as the conversation went on, Duster and Bonnie finally got to the point of asking to see her. They wanted her to meet a woman writer interviewing strong women around the west.

  Megan had no idea why the writer had picked her, but with a little push from Dr. Stevens, she agreed.

  “Thank you,” Bonnie said, smiling. “I think you will really like Carol.”

  “I’m sure I will,” Megan said, worried that it might take too much time away from her new job. “I’m sure I will.”

  CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO

  June 5th, 1901

  Boise, Idaho

  CAROL STOOD OUTSIDE the Institute, her horse saddled and ready to ride into town to meet Megan for dinner.

  A new Megan.

  But the same Megan.

  A Megan who didn’t know Carol and who hadn’t fallen in love with Carol.

  But this was basically the same Megan, just four months earlier in time.

  Carol stood there, holding the reins of her horse, letting the warm evening breeze off the river blow around her, not yet willing to ride into town.

  Carol wasn’t certain she could go through with this again. Watching Megan die for the third time had just about torn her apart.

  She had spent an entire month in her condo, doing nothing but reading and feeling sorry for herself and missing Megan.

  And Carol figured she had a right to do just that. And she was thankful that no one tried to talk her out of it. They had just let her alone, as she had asked.

  It wasn’t until four weeks after Megan died for the third time that Director Parks called her.

  “Megan’s new heart will be ready in one week,” he said simply.

  She thanked the director and hung up.

  Carol stood there by her fridge in her kitchen and remembered her last promise to Megan, to not give up on her. But over the last month Carol had given up on herself.

  And that wasn’t like her.

  And Megan would be angry at her for doing that.

  She needed to stand up and make a new plan. At least this time Megan had a new heart waiting.

  She looked at the large trees around her, all showing the fresh green growth of a new start, a new season.

  Carol nodded to herself. Then to the trees she said, “I’m not giving up on you, my love.”

  She climbed into the saddle and thirty minutes later she was sitting in the Idanha Hotel dining room, once again waiting for Megan, the love of Carol’s life.

  And a Megan that Carol had not yet met.

  CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE

  June 5th, 1901

  Boise, Idaho

  MEGAN FELT NERVOUS. She had on one of her best skirts and blouses, an outfit she saved for special occasions such as a staff party. The skirt was a pleated blue and the blouse a loose white with silk on the neck and sleeves. She wore a light matching blue jacket over her blouse and a small string of pearls from her mother.

  Even though it was a warm evening outside, she felt she needed the jacket to look presentable.

  She wasn’t sure why she was nervous. This Carol Kogan sounded nice and impressive and wanted to just talk. Megan figured that was what was making her nervous, that someone actually valued beyond what they ate at their table what she did every night.

  She brushed down her skirt one more time, then checked to make sure her hair was in place, even though as short as it was, there wasn’t much she could do with it.

  She nodded to the desk clerk as she moved across the stone-floors of the foyer and into the open restaurant doors beyond.

  Stan, the evening host, greeted her with a smile. “You look wonderful this evening, Mrs. Taber.”

  “Thank you, Stan,” she said, bowing slightly.

  “Your guest is waiting at the table near the front window,” Stan said, indicating that she should follow him.

  The blinds on the west side of the room had been drawn to block out the direct ev
ening sun and Megan was happy to see that the woman was sitting in a shaded area near an open window. The noise and smells from the streets might intrude at times, but even a slight breeze would be better than being stuffy.

  As Megan approached, the woman she was meeting glanced around and seemed shocked.

  Actually, it was Megan who felt shocked. The woman was stunningly beautiful and dressed in a similar style as Megan was.

  The woman stood and extended her hand after a moment. “Mrs. Taber, I am Carol Kogan. The honor is all mine to meet you.”

  Megan took Miss Kogan’s hand and was stunned at how soft and wonderful it felt. She didn’t want to let it go.

  And she didn’t want to stop staring in Miss Kogan’s eyes either. They were the most beautiful green Megan had ever seen.

  And clearly Miss Kogan didn’t want to break the grip either. Her face looked flushed and there was a slight look of panic in her eyes.

  Stan moved around Megan and pulled out her chair, so Megan released Miss Kogan’s hand and sat, allowing Miss Kogan to sit again as well.

  “Would you enjoy a beverage to start?” Stan asked.

  “Water would be wonderful,” Megan said.

  Stan nodded and turned away.

  Megan looked at Carol, who was staring at her as well.

  “Call me Megan,” she said, deciding to break the ice a little, even though ice was a great distance away from this warm summer evening.

  “I’m Carol. And I apologize for staring. I feel so like I know you and you are a very beautiful woman.”

  Megan could feel herself blush a little along her neck. She laughed. “No need to apologize at all, because I was thinking the same of you.”

  Now Carol blushed slightly and laughed what was clearly a relieved laugh.

  From there over the evening they managed to talk about their pasts, about how Megan’s husband had died, and then finally her baking.