Jo reached the bed first, and when she did, her heart broke. Mrs. Anderson was still alive, but her breathing was jumbled and choked, and her skin had faded from a lovely peach to a putrid blue, especially on her lips and the tips of her fingers. She was lying in a pool of her own waste and vomit, and her beautiful red hair was limp and sticking together from where it had gotten stuck in her sickness. There were dark-blue bags under her eyes, and her eyelashes were crusted with yellow-green goop.
Jo held back a whimper and ran forward, dropping to her knees next to Mrs. Anderson’s bed and reaching a hand out to stroke the hair that was plastered to her forehead. She was shocked at the amount of heat radiating from the woman’s flesh, especially with how pale she was. She heard Susanna let out a gasp from behind her and Will say that he was going to get Doctor Lenaldi, but she didn’t answer. She leaned down and pressed her forehead against Mrs. Anderson’s, the tears beginning to fall as she felt how truly strained the woman’s breathing had become. Every inhalation was accompanied by a wheezing sound, and each exhalation sounded like grinding gears.
“Oh, how could I have let it get to this?” Jo asked aloud, her stomach churning as the nauseating smells radiating from the bed swirled into her nostrils. Tears leaked out from between her lashes and landed on Mrs. Anderson’s cheeks, where the skin was so feverish that the salted liquid evaporated right off. “I’m so sorry, my love. I’m so sorry.”
She moved her hands so that they were cupping the woman’s jaw, rotating her head so that she was looking up at the ceiling rather than in the direction of the door. She pulled herself up onto the bed, climbing over her. She pressed her back against the wall and wrapped her arms around Mrs. Anderson’s prone figure, dropping kisses all along her cheekbones, temple, and neck before dropping all the way down next to her, putting her hand on Mrs. Anderson’s stomach and holding her close. She kissed her again and grabbed the blanket from the foot of the bed, pulling it up until it covered their legs. Jo wasn’t sure how long it would be before Doctor Lenaldi reached the house, but she was more than content to wait with the love of her life in her arms.
18
The next morning, Jo made breakfast for herself and the girls while Doctor Lenaldi continued to check over Mrs. Anderson. In his initial exam earlier that morning (Will had finally shown up with him as the sun started to rise into the sky) he noticed that Mrs. Anderson had not, in fact, eaten any of the food that Jo had left outside her door, and was severely dehydrated. He pinched her skin, leaving red marks and half-moons as he checked the levels of fat in her system, and he held a lit candle on the outside of her wrist to see if she had any response to pain. He pried open her eyes and examined the whites, using a magnifying glass to look closer at her veins.
In short, the full-body exam led to more questions than it did answers.
Jo had tried to stay in the room for the second half of the examination (finding the cause of Mrs. Anderson’s still-rising temperature), but Doctor Lenaldi said that the anxiety Jo was exuding was doing more harm than good, so she retreated down to the kitchen. Dessie and Susanna had offered to help her cook, but Jo had told them that they needed to spend some time together to figure everything out. Besides, she needed to be alone right now.
Jo finished throwing all the leftover vegetables and eggs that Susanna had purchased the day before into a pot, putting it over the fire in the fireplace. She wasn’t entirely sure what she was making, but her mind was too broken for her to focus on making anything adequate.
Once the pot was hanging correctly, Jo went back over to her workstation and began to knead the bread dough she had prepared a few days earlier. She had made a large batch of dough earlier in the week, and somehow managed to save enough to cook in an emergency (she decided this counted). She made sure that the dough was soft and airy before spreading it into a loaf pan and lightly dusting it with flour.
Before Jo could put the dough in the oven, however, the bell at the front door rang. She put the loaf pan aside and grabbed a rag, getting the powder and dough residue off from between her fingers and under her nails before dropping the cloth into the sink. She made quick work of untying her apron and putting it on the counter before making her way to the door.
Surprisingly, it was Theresa who was standing on the other side of the threshold. She had a shawl going over her shoulders, swollen breasts, and thick abdomen to hide her condition, but it was obvious to Jo’s knowing eyes that Theresa’s abdomen was far too large for her to be decent outside of the confines of her home. Jo eyed her warily and held out a hand to help her inside. “Will left over an hour ago, but if he has yet to return home I can see if Doctor Lenaldi knows where he might be—”
“That will not be necessary,” Theresa interrupted, holding up a hand to silence her. “Will made it home, right as rain. I wish to speak with you, however, if you have a moment to spare.”
Jo thought about Doctor Lenaldi and his procedure. Until he was finished, there wasn’t much that Jo could do besides idly wait. “That will be fine.”
“Lovely. Will you show me to the parlour?”
“Right this way.” Jo held out her arm in offering, waiting patiently for Theresa to lift her protruding abdomen over the small step that led into the house. She gratefully took Jo’s arm, all but collapsing into her as they walked together to the parlour.
Once Theresa was situated on the sofa, Jo stood back up, moving her hands behind her back and wringing her fingers nervously. “Can I get you something to drink, Theresa?” she asked, doing her best to be a good hostess.
Theresa shook her head. “Thank you, child, but I am fine without.” She held her hand out in the direction of the head of the sofa. “Now, please, sit with me. We have much to discuss.”
Jo did as she was asked. Theresa gave her an encouraging smile before saying, “Jo, I do not know if you know this, but Hattie is my niece.” She gave Jo a knowing look. “She keeps no secrets from me, including news about her . . . interests.”
Jo’s cheeks burned hot with shame. That meant that she knew about their kiss, and about her feelings for Mrs. Anderson. She swallowed past the dryness in her throat and looked down at the ground. “I see.”
Theresa let out a breath as she adjusted her position on the couch, moving so that she was closer to Jo. “Sweetheart, you are not in trouble. I had a feeling Hattie had forged an interest in you that first day that you met; she spent much of that evening with me gushing about ‘Mrs. Anderson’s pretty new nurse’. It surprised me that you shared her interest, yes, but when she told me what she sensed between you and Cordelia? Ah, that did not surprise me in the least.”
There was something about the tone of Theresa’s voice that made Jo’s eyes shoot up to see the wistful expression on her face. “You . . . ?” she asked, awestruck by the way Theresa had begun to twist a strand of hair around her finger, looking completely at ease at the topic on hand.
Theresa nodded and smiled softly. “That’s why I wanted to come and speak with you today, Joanna. If my memory is correct, Cordelia has a hard time acknowledging or admitting to her emotions, does she not?”
Jo thought back to the soft touches, loving glances, and awful words that had transpired between them over the last several months. If that wasn’t Mrs. Anderson struggling with falling in love, she didn’t know what was. “You are correct.”
Theresa’s smile grew. “Jo, I want to tell you a story from when we were girls. Do you remember what I said about her relationship with her father?”
Jo thought back to that first conversation. “Didn’t you tell me that they stopped speaking to one another on Mrs. Anderson’s wedding day?”
Theresa nodded. “Then you also must remember that I said our marriages were arranged. Well, hers more than mine.” She patted the couch cushion softly. “Mine was negotiated after Will had begun to court me. Cordelia’s . . . hers was a punishment.”
“What do you mean?”
Theresa held up her hand. “Patience. I am leading
up to that. Like I said, this took place when we were girls, I’d say around sixteen or seventeen years of age, a few weeks after her mother had passed. Her father had hired a pretty young maiden from France to help keep the house in order named Evie. Cordelia was attracted to her right from the very start, and they managed to become friends when Mr. Matthews was not watching. Evie and Cordelia started to spend a lot of time together, accompanying one another to town and staying up late into the night when Mr. Matthews was away on business trips. Over time, they managed to fall in love.
“When Cordelia first told me about the relationship Evie and she had formed, I am ashamed to say that I was rather appalled by it. Cordelia and I had held an interest in one another in the past, but for her to actively pursue a life with this woman? I reacted badly and pushed her away, further into Evie’s arms.
“We made up after only a few days, but those few days were enough to seal the deal between Evie and Cordelia. They began to sneak around, finding ways to be together even when Cordelia’s father was around.”
The smile dropped from Theresa’s face, and she looked down at the ground. “One night, Mr. Matthews came back early from an evening at the saloon, and happened to walk in on them sharing a bed, in the biblical sense.”
Jo gasped, her hand flying up to cover her mouth. “Oh, no.”
Theresa nodded. “The very next day, Evie was on a ship back to Paris and Cordelia was betrothed to Jacob. I know Jacob truly loved her, but after Evie, Cordelia wanted nothing to do with her emotions, at least until Casey and Molly were born. Becoming a mother turned Cordelia back into the woman I was so fond of.” Theresa reached across the sofa and took Jo’s hand in hers, threading their fingers together. “Jo, I promise you Cordelia was not always as sharp and cutting as she is now. She was kind, and gentle, and beautiful.”
“When did she change, then? Was it after Jacob and the kids passed away?” She thought back to one of the first things Susanna and Dessie had taught her about Mrs. Anderson, about how she had locked herself away from the world. Theresa’s story seemed to be going in the same direction.
Theresa began to shake her head, but stopped mid-shake. She shrugged. “We had already stopped speaking when Jacob and Casey passed. When Molly passed, that’s when everything changed. Cordelia had tolerated being in a marriage that she did not want, but losing her child was just too much. She wrote Jacob a letter saying that she was leaving and that she could not hold herself back from her happiness any longer.”
Jo’s eyes widened when she realized that she knew exactly what letter Theresa was talking about. Everything with Dessie now made sense. Susanna must have read Mrs. Anderson’s letter to Jacob by mistake. “Did she ever give the letter to him?”
“I haven’t the foggiest. We ceased communication before—”
“I am sorry to interrupt, ladies, but Ms. Hart, I need to speak to you about dear Mrs. Anderson’s condition.”
“Of course, doctor.” Jo gave the stout, pig-like man a tight smile before looking at Theresa. “Thank you for coming by. Your insight was incredibly helpful. We will finish our discussion later?” She squeezed Theresa’s hand.
“Of course,” Theresa squeezed Jo’s hand back before leaning in and kissing her on the cheek. “Good luck, sweetheart. Give Cordelia my love.”
“I will.”
Jo stood and helped Theresa get up from the sofa. She led her in the direction of the front door before turning back to Doctor Lenaldi. “I am afraid breakfast is still simmering over the fire, but can I offer you something to drink?”
Doctor Lenaldi shook his head and held up his hands. “That is very kind of you, Ms. Hart, but it is not necessary. I just have to show you how to administer Mrs. Anderson’s medication and then I will be on my way.”
“Is she going to be all right?”
“She is going to be fine, child. I gave her some root tea to break her fever, and a light sedative to keep her from causing too much of a disturbance while her body is recovering. I do believe it is just the change in the weather that has caused such an unfortunate physiological response.”
Jo nodded as though she was following along, but everything Doctor Lenaldi said after “she will be fine” was a blur in her mind. It didn’t matter what Mrs. Anderson’s illness was as long as she was going to be all right in the long run.
Doctor Lenaldi seemed to pick up on this, and held out his arm for Jo to take as he led her back up to Mrs. Anderson’s room. He started to talk again about whatever medication it was he was administering, but Jo quickly grew too nervous to listen. What if she gave it to her wrong and made things worse for Mrs. Anderson? She didn’t know how she would live with herself if she was the reason for Mrs. Anderson’s passing, especially now that she had learned so much about her from Theresa.
As soon as the duo reached Mrs. Anderson’s bedchamber, all of Jo’s nerves seemed to magnetize and stick together, forming a heavy ball in the pit of her stomach and making her feel as though she was going to be sick. Dessie and Susanna had changed Mrs. Anderson’s clothes and linens shortly before Doctor Lenaldi had gotten to the house, but it seemed that Mrs. Anderson’s body had rebelled against her once again in her sleep,. There was a line of dark-orange vomit trailing from the side of her mouth to the bed, as well as a crimson stain from where her monthly troubles had begun. Doctor Lenaldi had stripped her of everything except for her chemise and pantalets, and she was lying on her back with her legs spread open in an indiscreet manor, the slit in her pantalets wide enough to let a few dark curls slip through.
Jo’s cheeks burned as she moved to grab a quilt, apologizing to Doctor Lenaldi as she restated Mrs. Anderson’s modesty. Doctor Lenaldi chuckled. “Ms. Hart, I was the one who delivered the both of Mrs. Anderson’s babes. I daresay this nothing I have not seen before.” Regardless, he grabbed the other side of the quilt and helped make sure she was properly covered.
Once the quilt was in place, Doctor Lenaldi reached into his pocket and pulled out a tiny glass bottle, much like the last medication that Jo had had to administer. He held the bottle up in front of his face and flicked it lightly, letting out a satisfied sniff when an air bubble burst though the tiny hole in the lid. He reached into his other pocket and pulled out a tiny syringe, which he forced into the hole. He filled it up halfway before flicking it like he had the bottle.
“You do not want there to be any air bubbles trapped inside,” he instructed Jo, moving the needle to Mrs. Anderson’s left arm and pricking the meat of her bicep. “Make sure to give this to her twice a day for two weeks, then once a day for a month after that.”
“And this is for what?”
“It will keep her level, in case she starts to slip into a depression again. It will also keep her focused and her body from feeling heavy.” He gave Jo a smile and reached across the bed to shake her hand. “It was a pleasure to meet you, Ms. Hart. We were very fortunate that we did not cross paths at a more serious time.” He ducked his head and pressed a quick kiss to her knuckles before releasing her hand. He set the syringe and the glass bottle down onto the table next to Mrs. Anderson’s bed and walked out of the room, leaving the door open behind him.
Once Jo was sure that Doctor Lenaldi had retreated down to the lower levels, she let out the breath she had been holding and sat down on the edge of the bed next to Mrs. Anderson’s waist, suddenly feeling completely exhausted. She hadn’t gone back to sleep after she came back to the house, but now, with the news that Mrs. Anderson was all right, she could barely keep her eyes open.
Jo debated with herself for a moment before pushing the quilt back and lying down beside Mrs. Anderson. She tried to keep a respectable distance at first, in case Mrs. Anderson woke up, but after only a few minutes she moved forward and wrapped the woman in her arms. She felt slightly overdressed, especially since she was in her full daily attire while Mrs. Anderson was only in her stays. When Mrs. Anderson let out a soft sigh and moved back against Jo’s chest, however, she decided that it didn’t matte
r.
Jo was asleep within minutes.
19
When Jo woke up, she was soaking wet. At first, she was unable to figure out why, but a quick touch to Mrs. Anderson’s sweat-soaked hair was more than enough evidence that the older woman’s fever had broken. Jo had known that whatever it was that Doctor Lenaldi had given Mrs. Anderson would lower her temperature, but she never expected it to work so quickly.
She sat up slowly, blinking groggily as she tried to figure out how late into the day it had gotten. She was sure that Dessie and Susanna had picked up her slack with breakfast; Dessie always had a nose for overcooked food in the house. Regardless, it would be best for her to get back down to the kitchen and resume her duties.
Jo leaned over and gave Mrs. Anderson a quick kiss on the forehead, marveling at the cool feeling of her skin against her lips. She made sure Mrs. Anderson was properly covered up before leaving the room, shutting the door softly behind her. She lifted her skirts and padded down the hall, staying quiet until she had reached the first level.
She expected to hear Dessie and Susanna working in the kitchen, but as she approached the open oak door, all she heard was silence. She furrowed her brow and poked her head in through the doorway, trying to gauge if perhaps they were simply waiting on something on the stove or above the fire, but the flames were empty, and there was a fresh loaf of bread on the counter.
Jo straightened back up and glanced around in confusion. She hadn’t heard either girl when she had passed their room, and their door had been open so she knew that they weren’t napping. She didn’t see them in the library, and she didn’t see them working in the parlour or the dining room. Where could they be?
She thought for a moment before going down the hall to the coat closet. She personally thought that the daytime weather was nice enough for her to venture outside without so much as a shawl, but she knew it was still too cold for Susanna, who was constantly freezing from the first sign of fall until midway through the summer. She pulled back the door and peered inside. Sure enough, Susanna’s shawl was missing, although Dessie’s and Jo’s hung in their rightful places.
For Whom the Roses Grow Page 15