“Sometimes that’s just how new friendships are,” Elizabeth replied, but she had a faint smile dancing on her lips. She was obviously thinking more than she was saying.
“And what do you mean by that?” Harriet demanded, accidently slopping water out of the tub as she threw in another apron.
“I mean that anytime you’re getting to know someone, it can be confusing.” Elizabeth looked entirely too innocent. Or sly. Harriet considered her for a moment. She’d wager on sly.
“Elizabeth Whatever-your-maiden-name-was Caldwell Brody, if you’re trying to hint that there’s anything going on between me and Tom White, I’ll turn you upside down in this washtub this minute.” Harriet scrubbed even more furiously. “I can’t even say that we’re just friends because I’m not sure we’re that. Romance is so far from the truth, you can’t even get there on the train.”
“All right, all right,” Elizabeth said. “I won’t talk about it anymore, and maybe you could show that apron some mercy before you’ve scrubbed holes right through it.”
Harriet looked down at the fabric in her hands. “Sorry,” she said, handing it over to Abigail, who had come to collect more wet things to go on the clothesline. “I suppose I was letting my emotions get the better of me.”
“Understandable. And it’s Early.”
Harriet scowled. “What?”
“My maiden name. I was Elizabeth Early.”
“Well, I don’t know how I can be expected to remember that. You’ve had so many names since I met you.”
Just then, Tom walked by, balancing several long boards on his shoulder. “Ladies,” he said with a nod, throwing a grin at Harriet. As soon as he was around the corner of the building, Jeanette and Abigail began to giggle.
“What?” Harriet demanded. “So he grinned at me. Tom is a grinner. Haven’t you ever noticed? He doesn’t just smile—he grins. It’s a natural characteristic.”
“I think that was a special grin,” Elizabeth said, ducking as this time, Harriet splashed water on purpose.
“All right, now it’s my turn to ask some questions,” Harriet said after tucking a lock of hair back into her bun. “How are you enjoying being married?”
“It’s wonderful,” Elizabeth said. “It’s only been a few days, but I’ve already experienced more joy than I’ve had my entire life up to now. And Adam is so sweet with Rose.”
“I noticed that before I left,” Harriet said. “She’s a very lucky little girl.”
“I agree. We are both so very lucky.” Elizabeth smiled, looking a little dreamy, and Harriet flicked her with water again. Someone had best keep her rooted in the here and now or they would never get the laundry done.
After all the laundry was on the line, Harriet went upstairs and pulled a small bundle of letters from beneath her pillow. These were the love notes Sam had written to her over the course of the very short three days they’d had together between their engagement and his death. He’d sent them by way of a little neighbor boy who was more than delighted with the task—he’d get a penny from Sam for taking the letter, and a penny from Harriet for delivering it.
She untied the ribbon holding the notes together and read them one after the other, smiling and tearing up alternately. Her heart soared and broke, beat faster and slowed down. When she came to the end of the last letter, she closed her eyes and held the paper to her chest. “Good-bye, Sam,” she whispered. “I’ll always love you, but at last, it’s time to say good-bye.”
When she heard the train whistle, she blinked several times, the room coming back into focus. She tied the letters up again, but instead of putting them under her pillow, this time, she put them in her carpet bag and slid it under her bed. She would keep them forever as a reminder of the beautiful thing she’d had. Then she smoothed down her dark dress and checked her hair before running downstairs to grab a clean apron. It was time to see how her latest attempt at bread would go over with the hungry public.
Chapter Eleven
The meal had been cleaned up for over an hour, and Harriet noticed that Tom hadn’t come in for a plate. She knew he was working hard on finishing the roof so he could begin constructing the new family suite and had probably forgotten to take a break—he did that often. After she finished drying the last plate—and rewashing a few that Olivia had done poorly—she went outside and walked around the building to stand at the bottom of Tom’s ladder.
“Hello up there,” she called out. “Aren’t you hungry?”
Tom’s head peeked over the edge. “I am. I told myself I’d come in after I finished this one spot, but I must have lost track of time. I’ve found a lot of dry rot up here, and it’s sure been a bigger project than I expected.”
“Well, why don’t you come down and eat now? There’s a big bowl of stew left, and I actually made the bread. I don’t know if that makes the offer more frightening or appealing, but you can’t go all day without eating.”
Tom grinned. “I’ll be down in a minute.”
“I’ll hold you to that.”
Harriet turned and started walking back the way she’d come. She’d only taken two dozen or so steps when she heard a cracking noise and a shout. She whirled around to see Tom windmilling his arms on top of the roof, and then he came crashing down to the ground.
“Tom!” Harriet picked up her skirts and ran to where he lay. He was gasping, and no surprise—he’d landed in such a way that she was sure he’d had the breath knocked out of him. Then she looked down at his leg. His pants were torn, and a piece of shinbone stuck out through the fabric. Her chest constricted. No. No. This couldn’t be happening.
“Oh, Tom. You’ve got a nasty break,” she said, tears welling up in her eyes. She blinked rapidly. If he saw her upset, he might start to panic, and that wouldn’t be good. “You try not to move around, and I’ll be back in a minute. I need to fetch help.”
He reached out and caught her hand. His skin was already clammy to the touch—he must have been suffering badly. “There’s . . . there’s just one thing I need to know,” he said.
“What is it?” she asked, hoping it was something she could answer.
“How . . . how ridiculous did I look just now?”
She blinked. “Ridiculous? What do you mean?”
“When I fell. I’m sure it was funny.”
She brushed the hair back from his forehead. “I wasn’t even thinking about that. Now lie still and let me go get some help.”
Flinging open the door of the hotel, she called out, “Mr. Brody? Mr. Brody!” But he wasn’t in his office, like he usually was after a meal service. Instead, he was in the dining room, inspecting a piece of tile that had come off the fireplace. “Mr. Brody,” Harriet gasped when she finally found him. “Tom fell off the roof, and he’s badly hurt.”
Mr. Brody didn’t waste any time following her outside. “Well, Tom,” he said after gently inspecting the break, “you don’t do anything halfway, do you?”
“No, sir,” Tom said. His forehead was covered in a sheen of sweat—Harriet was sure it was from the pain. “If I’m going to do a job, I’ll make sure it’s done.”
“Well, you’ve certainly done a good job with this break.” Mr. Brody turned and looked at everyone who had come out of the hotel and gathered around. “Aunt Caroline, is the first room at the top of the stairs free?”
“Yes, it is,” she replied, her face grim. “I’ll go set it up with towels and hot water. Abigail, will you come help me, please?” The two women left silently except for the rustling of their skirts.
Mr. Brody pointed to a man at the back of the small group. “Sir, are you a guest at the hotel?”
“I am,” the man replied.
“I’ll give you a night’s stay free if you’ll help me carry him to a bed.”
“I’m more than happy to help, sir.” The man stepped forward, and together, they lifted Tom off the ground. Tom let out a cry, and Harriet pressed her hands to her mouth. He must be in agony.
“Who can rid
e for the doctor?” Mr. Brody called out as he and the other man carried Tom across the grass.
“I’ll go.”
Harriet turned at the unexpected voice. Was that Jeanette who had spoken up? Shy, quiet Jeanette? Harriet thought she must be mistaken, but no—the girl was already running across the yard to the stables.
It had taken less than a minute for everyone to get organized and decide on their tasks, but to Harriet, it seemed to be forever. Elizabeth tucked her arm through Harriet’s and led her inside. “You’re completely pale,” she said, nudging Harriet toward a kitchen chair. “That must have been an awful thing to witness.”
Harriet pressed a hand to her eyes. It was true—it had been horrendous, and she kept seeing it over and over again in her mind. She’d never been so scared or felt so helpless.
“I made some tea a few minutes ago,” Olivia said hesitantly, sliding a mug into Harriet’s other hand. “It’s probably dreadful, but it’s warm.”
Harriet took a sip. “You’re right. It is warm.”
The three girls laughed until Harriet’s voice hitched in a sob. “The bone . . . it’s sticking out of his leg and through his pants . . .”
“That’s called a compound fracture,” Olivia said. “My father’s a doctor, and he talks about his cases all the time.”
“That sounds serious,” Harriet said. “Is it bad?”
Olivia leaned up against the counter. “Well, let’s put it this way. If Tom were a horse, they’d be shooting him right now.”
“Olivia!” Elizabeth chided. “What a thing to say!”
“Well, it’s true.” Olivia shrugged. “But they don’t do that to people, obviously.”
“What do they do?” Harriet asked.
“Usually they amputate.” Olivia shrugged again. “But Tom’s healthy, so he should recover pretty well, and he can learn to get along with a cane or a crutch. I’ve seen it happen over and over again.”
Elizabeth whirled around. “Olivia Markham, you hold your tongue this instant. Not another word, do you hear?”
“I just thought Harriet would like to know,” Olivia said, holding up her hands in defense. “I certainly didn’t mean any harm by it.”
“Well, from the tone of your voice, I never would have arrived at that conclusion.” Elizabeth crossed her arms.
Harriet didn’t stay to hear the rest of their altercation. The panic built in her chest until she burst out of her chair and ran up the stairs. She came to a dead halt just outside Tom’s door and then crept forward, wondering what she would see if she looked inside.
The door was slightly ajar. If something was going on inside that required privacy, they would have closed it, wouldn’t they? She took this as an invitation, and reached out to nudge the door open a bit farther. Tom lay on the bed, Miss Hampton standing next to him, Mr. Brody cutting the fabric away from the break with a pair of scissors. Harriet didn’t think she’d made any sound, but Tom’s head came up, and he looked her way.
“Hey,” he said, reaching out for her, and she crossed the room in just a few steps.
“Hey yourself,” she replied, taking the hand he offered. His flesh was cold, but his face looked flushed and hot. She checked his forehead and glanced at Miss Hampton.
“He’s in a great deal of distress,” Miss Hampton murmured.
Harriet turned when she heard footsteps on the stairs. A man in a dark suit came through the door, a small black valise in his hand.
“I’m Dr. Wayment,” he announced. “Let me see the patient, please.”
Mr. Brody, Miss Hampton, and Harriet all stepped back and allowed the doctor to stand by the bed. He started shaking his head almost as soon as he looked at Tom. “This is a bad break,” he said. “Tell me about your pain.”
“It . . . it hurts a lot,” Tom said, speaking through a gasp.
“I shouldn’t wonder about that.” Dr. Wayment nodded. “Let me give you a bit of something to help.” He opened his bag and dribbled some liquid into a spoon, then helped Tom raise his head enough to swallow it.
Harriet glanced over at the door and noticed that Jeanette had slipped into the room. She moved over to join her friend and they stood there, arms linked, watching the examination.
“The best thing I can do at this point is suggest amputation,” Dr. Wayment said at last. “This break is so severe, I’d be hard pressed to correct it safely, and the risk of infection is too great.”
Even though Olivia had offered this as a possibility, Harriet was stunned. “No!” she cried out, darting across the room and grabbing the doctor by the sleeve. “You can’t! You just can’t!”
When the doctor turned to her, Harriet was surprised at how young he actually was. His green eyes looked at her with compassion. “Young lady, this procedure might save his life. You do understand that, don’t you?”
“But it’s too much! He’s active and healthy . . . and he rides horses . . . and he has so much left to do in this world,” Harriet stammered, not really sure what she was trying to say, but knowing that she had to do something, anything to keep this doctor from making Tom a cripple. He couldn’t be crippled. He was too alive. He’d be miserable if he had to spend the rest of his life on a crutch. “Isn’t there something else you can do? Anything?”He studied her face. “There is one thing, but it’s very risky, and it’s experimental. The main issue we face is gangrene in the open wound where the bone is protruding. I’ve heard tell of a Scottish doctor named Lister who has been doing experimentation with carbolic acid to kill the gangrene. I’ve personally never tried this procedure, and I can’t promise you anything.”
Tom spoke from where he lay. “What would you have to do?”Dr. Wayment turned and addressed his patient. “We would bathe the area with carbolic acid, and then we would do our best to set the bone. We’d keep the area soaked with this acid for a number of days until your leg began to heal. There is one difficulty in all this—the carbolic acid burns, and the whole process is very painful. Again, I can’t promise you a successful outcome. If it doesn’t work, I might have to amputate anyway. It’s up to you, Tom. What do you want to do?”
Tom’s gaze flicked around the room, beseeching each person there to tell him what choice he should make. Harriet didn’t know what he should do. The treatment sounded agonizing, but so was amputation. It seemed so unfair—one false step on a rotten roof, and Tom’s entire life was going to be changed because of it.
“Adam?” Tom asked. “What would you do?”
Mr. Brody looked utterly conflicted. “I wish I had an easy answer, Tom. I guess we have to weigh the pluses and minuses. If you go ahead with this new procedure, it might save your leg, but there’s still a chance you’ll lose it. If you have it amputated, you know the leg is lost—there’s no question about that. Your choice is between an outcome you know and an outcome you don’t know. Is the chance of saving your leg worth it? Could you be happy using a crutch for the rest of your life?”
“I don’t think that’s a fair question to ask,” Miss Hampton said. “If he says no, he wouldn’t be happy, there isn’t an instant choice to be made that will give him that result. But asking him if the chance of saving his leg is worth it—that’s a better question. That’s one he can answer.”
Mr. Brody turned back to Tom. “What do you think, Tom? This decision is yours entirely.”
Tom’s gaze flicked around again until his eyes landed on Harriet. “I think I’d like to try to save my leg,” he said at last. “If it doesn’t work, we’ll know we gave it everything we had.”
Harriet pressed her hand to her mouth again. This was the choice she hoped he’d make, although she hadn’t known it for sure until he said it. A chance, any chance, was better than no chance at all.
“All right, let’s give this a try.” Dr. Wayment took off his coat and draped it over a chair in the corner of the room. Then he noticed Jeanette standing nearby. “Ah, there you are. I wondered where you had gone. Would you be willing to assist me?”
Her
eyes wide, Jeanette nodded.
“Very good. Mr. Brody, how many guests are in the hotel tonight?”Mr. Brody looked at Miss Hampton. “Just one,” she replied. “He’s a kind gentleman who helped Adam carry Tom in here.”
Dr. Wayment nodded. “I suggest you speak to this man and let him know what’s going on in here. He might hear some strange sounds, and we wouldn’t want him to become alarmed.”
“I’ll speak to him now,” Mr. Brody said, then stepped out of the room.
“Keep the hot water and towels coming, and we’ll need plenty of clean linen,” Dr. Wayment said to Miss Hampton. He turned to Harriet. “And you may be the most important person in this room.”
Harriet took a step back. “What? Me? What do you mean?”
“You will sit beside Tom and comfort him. I’ve often found that wives are better than any other anesthesia or calming medicine I can administer.”
Sure that her cheeks were aflame, Harriet protested, “I’m not his wife. I’m just his friend.”
“Oh?” Dr. Wayment raised an eyebrow. “From the way you fought to save his leg, I just assumed . . . well, I suppose time will tell.” He opened his bag and began pulling out his supplies, lining them up on the edge of the bed.
“Time will tell what, Doctor?” she asked, but he didn’t answer. He merely kept unpacking his equipment.
Mr. Brody stepped back into the room. “Our guest understands, and has offered to help in any way he can.”
“Good, good. Now, I’ll need more carbolic acid from my office. Mr. Brody, if I give you a key, can I send you on that errand?”
“Of course.”
The key changed hands, and Dr. Wayment told Mr. Brody where to find what he needed. Then the doctor turned back to Tom. “We can get started with the carbolic acid I have on hand. Are you ready, or do you need a little time?”Tom licked his lips. “I don’t think extra time will make this any less painful, so let’s just get it done.”
Dr. Wayment showed Harriet where to sit on the bed so she could hold Tom’s hand and yet still be out of the way. She didn’t hesitate at all or feel embarrassed—she grabbed his hand and held on for all she was worth. He squeezed back, and they exchanged a look. Nothing mattered—not their disagreements, not their flat-out arguments. Everything else faded in comparison to this moment.
A Free Heart Page 8