She nodded, hurrying to the glass-fronted cabinet where Gerald kept his supplies. She extracted a wooden stick from the box and delivered it to Robert. She passed the lamp to her other hand, holding it high.
Robert pulled open Gerald’s jaw and twisted his head a little further toward the light. With a sigh he released his friend and sat back on his heels.
Ruby set the lamp on the desk. She braced herself against the wooden surface, watching as Robert pressed his face into his hands. Her stomach churned. “It’s diphtheria then?”
Without looking up, Robert nodded.
“He said he’d already had it.”
“There are certain instances . . .” Robert broke off, dropping his hands to his knees. “How much antitoxin do we have left?”
A chill swept over Ruby. “Two vials. But they’re intended for children at the camp.”
A shadow passed over her brother’s face. “We’ll give him one tonight. I’ll drive over to the Presidio in the morning and shake down the military doctors until they produce more. I can’t believe they haven’t stockpiled extra.”
Ruby’s shoulders felt tight, like her shirtwaist had shrunk a few inches. “But the illness is less dangerous in adults—right? He could fight it off. The children—”
“Are you the doctor?” Robert pushed to his feet, his dark eyes sparking. “I’m in charge here. Get the dose now.”
Ruby stumbled back, unaccustomed to harsh words from her brother. She turned and raced from the room. Where had Gerald left his bag? Normally he walked it straight into the study and placed it by the ornate cabinet. The front hall remained strangely quiet, the voices from the parlor now hushed.
The black bag sat under the coat tree. Ruby picked up the heavy leather tote. Clutching it under her arm, she glanced into the front room.
Her mother and Abby sat side-by-side on the sofa, their quiet conversation stiff. Otto lay sprawled on the rug at Abby’s feet, his chin on the toe of her shoe. He glanced toward Ruby with large eyes, but didn’t move from his position.
Footfalls on the stair pulled her gaze upward. Elizabeth and Miriam descended, the baby cradled in her cousin’s arm.
She opened her mouth to tell them she’d be late to supper, but as her eyes rested on Miriam, all words rushed from her head. Baby. Her throat squeezed. “Go back upstairs and stay there.”
The women stopped. Elizabeth’s eyes widened. “What’s wrong?”
“I can’t explain just now. I’ll come up in a minute.” Crushing the bag against her ribs, Ruby dashed for the study and slammed the door behind her. “Robert—what will we do? The house is full of people. What of Miriam’s baby son?”
Her brother bent over Gerald, unfastening his shirt. “We’ll isolate Gerald here in the study, but it would be best if they left immediately.” Robert straightened. “They’ve been in his room all this time?”
“I believe so.”
Robert blew out a noisy exhale. “I wish he’d told us he was unwell. I wouldn’t have . . .” His gaze shifted downward.
Ruby shook the senseless words from her ears and imagined pulling on her hospital apron and cap. Calm action saved patients, guilt would only be wasted effort. She pressed the glass vial of antitoxin into Robert’s palm. “Here, you do this. I’ll inform Mae and see what we can do about the family.”
Robert closed his fingers around hers. “Ruby—” His brown eyes filled with emotion that traveled through his touch. “I’m sorry for yelling before.”
She managed a brisk nod. “I understand. He’s your friend.” She retrieved her hand and hurried from the room. And my future.
37
Gerald stirred, the weight of the blanket pressing him into the drowning blackness. He pushed against it, heat burning in his throat and chest. He lifted a hand up to his neck, opening his eyes.
Robert sat beside him on the cushion, a syringe lifted upright as he tapped it with a fingernail.
“Wha—” Gerald’s voice cracked. He coughed twice into his hand. “What is that? The morphine?”
His friend met his gaze. “We’re far past morphine. It’s antitoxin.”
Gerald mustered his energy, thrusting away the smothering exhaustion. He braced his elbows on the divan and pressed up. A tight strap squeezed his bare arm. “No. We’re almost out. The children need it.”
Robert placed a hand on Gerald’s sternum. “You need it more. You’re not going to be able to fight this off without help.”
A tightness settled in Gerald’s chest, and he fell back against the pillow. His tongue grew thick, a bitter taste filling his mouth. “The biopsy?”
His friend lowered the syringe, lines deepening around his eyes. He nodded. “Cancer. No question.”
The darkness beckoned. Gerald eased back against the pillow. A cold touch on his arm, and his lids popped open. The acrid scent of isopropyl alcohol burned his nose.
Robert swiped the swab across Gerald’s arm, light reflecting off the needle. He tightened the strap around Gerald’s bicep. “Hold still. I’m going to do this intravenously.”
“Don’t waste the medicine on me.” Gerald’s voice rattled.
After a quick glare, Robert jabbed the needle into his vein. “Listen to your doctor, will you? We’re fighting this. The diphtheria first, then the cancer.”
“I’m not ignorant like most of—” His throat constricted, choking off his response.
Robert’s attention never wavered from the needle. After the dose emptied, he withdrew the needle and pressed a wad of cotton to the site. “You, better than anyone, know there are many treatments available. I’ll try every single one.”
Gerald pressed his bandaged hand over his arm as Robert removed the strap. “I also know how the story ends.”
“Look, you’re not only my friend, but—against my wishes—my sister’s fallen in love with you. That’s two good reasons for you to fight this.”
A throbbing ache pulled at Gerald’s head and heart. “You—you haven’t told her.”
“No. But I should.”
Gerald squeezed his eyes shut and turned toward the wall, pulling the blanket with him. He pressed the quilt to his chin. “Let me deal with this.”
“I won’t say anything to the family until you’ve recovered from this.” The springs creaked as his friend stood and walked across the floor. “But you can’t keep everyone in the dark.”
The void called to Gerald, pulling at every limb as if it could suck him through the divan and down into the earth. He imagined Ruby’s hand reaching through the blackness. His stomach twisted, coiling like a snake waiting in the gloom. “No. I can’t.”
* * *
Ruby cradled the tiny infant, sighing as the baby crammed a tiny fist into his round mouth. She touched the little bud of a nose with her clean fingertip, warm and pink from the scalding wash.
Elizabeth helped Miriam stack clothes in their trunk. Ruby’s younger sister frowned. “We only just arrived. This is ridiculous. It’s not like we haven’t already had every illness under the sun.”
Ruby turned away, stepping up to the long window and relishing the sunlight dappling on baby Jackson’s rose-petal skin. “Yes, but this sweet treasure hasn’t. We can’t risk his safety.” She pulled the newborn close, rubbing her face against the top of his fuzzy head. “We lost an infant in the camp last week from diphtheria. I’d never forgive myself if something happened to him.”
Miriam swept up a handful of cotton diapers and thrust them toward Elizabeth. “Has he already been exposed? I don’t mean to be heartless, Ruby, but isn’t this the doctor’s room?”
“I think he’ll be fine if we move you now.”
Elizabeth closed the lid with a snap and swept a loose strand of blonde hair from her face. “Where will we go? Mother said there were no hotels.”
“Mrs. Larkspur has found a place for you with one of her friends.” Ruby placed Jackson in his mother’s arms. “I wish it were different. I wish you could stay.”
Miriam to
uched Ruby’s sleeve. “Will we be able to see you? What about the wedding?”
“I don’t know. Let’s see how Gerald responds to the antitoxin.” She pulled her friend close, the touch of her hand crumbling every wall around her heart. “I hope so. We have so much to talk about.”
Miriam lifted Jackson to her shoulder and pulled Ruby close. “We’ll pray for Dr. Larkspur.” A smile curled at the corners of her lips, and she tipped her head close. “Gerald.”
“I’ll pray, too.” Prayer would have been Gerald’s first response. Ruby rested her head against Miriam’s, watching Elizabeth make final preparations. Why had she always felt closer to her cousin than to her baby sister? Elizabeth had always been the rough-and-tumble little girl, so young when their father died. Ruby still remembered the rosy, tear-stained cheeks as Elizabeth cupped an abandoned kitten or an injured bird—as if the child’s heart was too big for her chest.
The young woman straightened, willowy and beautiful. Not a child, anymore. “I think we’re ready. Mama said Abby would be joining us.”
Ruby sighed. “Poor Abby. Meets her future mother-in-law and moves in with her, all in one day.”
Miriam squeezed her hand. “Don’t worry, I’ll look after her. And God will watch over you and Gerald.” She smiled. “Even though I can’t see Jackson with my eyes, I can feel when he relaxes in sleep against me. It’s your turn to rest in God’s arms—trust in His plan.”
Ruby laid a hand on Jackson’s back, as if she could absorb the baby’s peace through the thin blanket. “I’ll try, Miriam. I’ll try.”
* * *
Gerald coughed and gagged, waking himself from a fitful sleep. A dim light filtered through the study windows, casting eerie shadows across the room. He struggled to swallow, his throat swollen and raw. He choked a second time and pushed up on his elbows, gravity assisting functions he’d long taken for granted.
As the blanket fell to the side, a burst of cold swept over his damp skin. Gerald reached for his shirt to fasten the buttons, only to discover it missing. He yanked up the blanket and clutched it to his thin white union suit, shivers coursing through his frame. A fire roared in the small fireplace, but the heat didn’t seem to reach the divan.
A faint murmur drew his attention. Ruby slept in the wingback chair, her legs tucked underneath her, and the dog nestled on her lap. The firelight flickered on her face, accentuating the curve of her cheek. Her hair hung in a loose rope over one shoulder, the curls spiraling into a joyous riot of freedom.
Gerald lowered his head to the pillow, a tender ache wedging itself between his ribs. What had he done to earn the love of such a woman? He would do anything to stay at her side for a lifetime, but it was not to be. God, I thought this was Your plan. He ran his fingers up his arm to where Robert had injected the antitoxin. The serum would battle this infection, but what then? Cancer would eat away at his body until he ended up like one of their patients—wasting away in a hospital bed until the end.
“If we married.” Her words echoed in his mind. He swallowed hard, the pain like a hole in his chest. You’d bury a second husband.
* * *
Ruby stirred, opening her eyes to the early morning light filtering through the window. The fire had burned down to ash, the sooty smell permeating the closed room. She stretched her arms over her head, sending Otto slithering to the floor. He landed on his paws with a whimper.
Gerald’s pillow had escaped off the side of the divan. He lay curled on his stomach, the quilt hanging loose around his chest.
Ruby fell to her knees beside him, checking his temperature with a kiss to the forehead. She still remembered her portly nursing instructor’s dimpled smile and laughing voice. “The lips are more sensitive than the hand, dearie, but save it for children. Male patients might get the wrong idea.” Gerald might not be a child, but Ruby didn’t mind giving him a few ideas or, at least, pleasant dreams.
She pushed fingertips through his damp hair, smoothing the lines on his forehead. Yesterday her heaviest concern had been assuring she didn’t spend time alone with the man. A few hours later, she’d slept in the same room. She tugged the blanket over his shoulder. I’d spend every night by your side, if you’d have me.
Gerald shivered and pulled the covers closer, drawing his knees into a gentle curve.
Ruby stood and hurried to the fire, lifting the poker and stirring the ashes before adding a small pile of kindling. The antitoxin would work soon. It had to. She glanced over her shoulder. Gerald would tell her to pray. How long before prayer became a habit?
The fire crackled, the embers catching the slivers of wood. Ruby blew against the sparks, encouraging them to flicker to life. As this family’s done for me. Ruby closed her eyes, sensing God’s presence only a heartbeat away. Lord, thank You for bringing me here. Miriam said You had a plan greater than what I’d choose for myself. Her spirit jumped and spun like the flames, dancing upward on the wings of her prayer.
Ruby sank back onto her heels, gazing into the twisting orange and gold light. I know Charlie is safe in Your hands. Her heart squeezed at the memory. The words of the verse Mae often quoted floated through Ruby’s mind. For I know the thoughts that I think toward you, saith the Lord, thoughts of peace, and not of evil, to give you an expected end. She glanced back to where Gerald slept. God had thoughts for me. For us both.
She added a small log to the fire before pacing back to her chair. Ruby dropped into the seat and pulled the shawl into her lap as she gazed at the sleeping man. Help him, Lord.
38
Ruby stepped into the hall, leaving the study door open a slight crack. The cooler air swept down the corridor, teasing her cheeks with its refreshing sweetness. Voices in the kitchen drew her forward.
Mae dealt plates out onto the table as Robert leaned against the stove, cradling a mug of coffee. He straightened as Ruby entered. “How’s the patient?”
Ruby pressed fingertips to her lips as a yawn stalled her words. “About the same, I believe.”
Mae hurried to her side, guiding Ruby to a chair. “I peeked in earlier, and you were both sleeping. I feel so much better having you and Robert here.” Lines around the older woman’s mouth spoke to her fears. She turned to Robert. “I’ve always worried for you boys, working around such horrible disease. It’s a wonder you’re not sick more often.”
Casting table manners aside, Ruby propped her elbows on the table as a brace for her chin. “Gerald told me he was never ill.”
Mae placed a cup of coffee in front of Ruby, its pungent fragrance filling the air. “I can hardly remember the last time. But I do remember him having diphtheria as a toddler. My sister Margaret’s girls—Clara and her sister—were living with us at the time, helping with the mercantile. All three of them had it. Thankfully, we didn’t lose any of them, but I was so frightened.”
Ruby took a sip, the bitter brew scalding its way down her throat. “My father said you could only get it once. I don’t understand why Gerald contracted it a second time.”
Robert set his mug in the sink with a clatter. “Now that Gerald’s room is empty, I think we should move him.”
“Do you think it’s wise?” Mae pressed hands to her apron front.
“Trust me, I’ve slept on the divan for months. He’ll be more comfortable in his own bed.”
Ruby reached for a piece of toast. Perhaps she’d feel more alert if she ate something. “Can he make it up the stairs, do you think?”
“I’ll help him.” He swiped a hand over his eyes. “Then I’ll drive over to the Presidio and ask about additional antitoxin.”
Mae’s lips turned downward. “I thought you already gave Gerald a dose.”
Ruby touched Mae’s arm, unaccustomed to seeing the woman so ruffled. “We did. But if he doesn’t improve, he may need another. Plus, the vial we administered was intended for a patient at the camp.”
Her brother stood, his back to her, shoulders hunched as he gazed out the small window. “He tried to refuse it. A doc
tor is no good to his patients if—”
“Is it so serious?” Mae sank into the chair beside Ruby.
Ruby wrapped an arm around Mae’s shoulders. “The antitoxin should help.” She nodded encouragement to the worried mother. “And he has an in-house doctor at his beck and call.”
Robert chuckled. “Not to mention a nurse willing to sit up all night.”
She shot him a warning glance. “As I would with any patient.”
“I’m glad you kept an eye on him. I haven’t had a decent night’s sleep in weeks. Once I return, I’ll take a watch, so you can rest.”
Mae frowned up at him. “I may not be trained, but I am his mother. I’ll sit with him. I won’t have you two taking ill as well.”
Robert straightened his tie. “Gerald’s fortunate to have two devoted ladies at his side. I leave him in good hands.”
Ruby stood, walking to her brother’s side. “What of the hospital?”
“I’ll ask Dr. Lawrence to assist me. If Gerald approves, I might ask him to come on the project full-time. It might take months before Gerald feels up to going back to the hospital.” Robert glanced out the window, his eyebrows drawing together.
Ruby’s throat tightened. There was something her brother wasn’t saying. “Why so long?”
He paused, opening his mouth and closing it again. “It can take longer for adults to recover.”
Mae lifted her head. “What of the wedding?”
Robert lowered his head. “We’ll know more in a few days.”
* * *
Gerald sank onto the bed, sweat beading along his brow. He’d never known a trip up the stairs to require such exertion. Even leaning on Robert’s shoulder and gripping Ruby’s arm did little to stabilize his wobbly legs. His stomach roiled as another set of chills raced across his skin. The pinched expression on Ruby’s face made him curl inward.
Ruby plumped the pillow and eased him back.
Beyond the Ashes Page 27