Chapter 17

Chapter

Seventeen

Dr. Sumner Delano

Watching Lucas leave in the ambulance with Mr. Hobbs resurrects awful memories. Like many, my war years were both the best and worst of my life. They were certainly formative. I learned about myself, about mankind, about love and loss, and the shocking emotional void that comes with civilian life afterwards.

I couldn't call my life empty. I have family, friends, and a calling. I rarely feel lonely, because I'm rarely alone. As I watch the trail of dust rise in the ambulance's wake, the loss I feel is both physical and crushing.

It takes me a minute to realize Rose has been speaking to me.

"Right?" she asks.

"I beg your pardon, I wasn't listening. What did you say?"

"I asked if Dr. Hamilton said he'll come back for Alice's funeral. He will, won't he?"

"I believe so." I don't know what he plans, but I know what she wants to hear.

That morning, we're surprised by a patient whose complaint has nothing to do with his lungs. A ten-year-old boy who'd been helping his father repair roof shingles had fallen and fractured his arm. We set the bone, immobilized it, and sent him home with a list of instructions for how to take care of the cast. I hope that was the last of his rooftop jobs for a while.

Others come in frustrated by long term coughs.

We're still giving out masks and asking people to wear them.

Rose and I have little to do after lunchtime. I go to my room with the excuse of writing letters. I do need to write a report on our first week for Eleanor. She expects the same detailed reports that I sent from the coal fields.

I take off my jacket and loosen my tie before I see the envelope peeking out from under the blotter. Sumner is printed in Luke's precise style. He doesn't use cursive. His handwriting looks a bit like the writing on an architectural blueprint. Neat. Impersonal. Uniform. I remarked on it once. He describes his cursive handwriting as illegible. "Typical doctor's script," he called it, but he shut his mouth after seeing my Palmer Script signature. Good penmanship is required by my mother. Neither my older siblings nor I wanted to know what would happen if we didn't comply. Luke hasn't stopped teasing me about it.

Dear Sumner,

I should say Dearest Sumner, but whenever I close my eyes, I hear you whisper that word to me. I want to be your "dearest." You need an endearment of your own. There are a thousand ways to address a sweetheart where I come from: sweetie, babe, baby, darling, bae, boo, cher ami, shorty (for ladies), honey, hon… It's an endless list. I haven't found the perfect word that means "Sumner" to me yet, but I will, never fear.

This is a new adventure. I backpacked through Europe the summer before college. I thought it would make me clever and resilient and capable, but now I don't know. Here I don't know how to drive a car, or find a job, or even wash my clothes. You can't imagine how demoralizing it is. If not for you, I would have ended up in an asylum for the criminally insane.

Thank you for believing me. There aren't a lot of people who would have listened. In your shoes, I fear I would have done differently. I hope you know everything I'm not putting into words.

Until we meet again,

Luke

I read the letter again, and a third time. I'm sure I'll eventually commit it to memory. The criminally insane . They could put me there too. Luke changed everything I know about how the world works. If I vouched for him, would anyone believe me? Nope. They might as well give us adjoining rooms.

I'm delighted with my letter, even though we both said no goodbyes .

"Dr. Delano?"

I wipe my eyes before turning to Rose, who stands in the doorway, tension knotting the hands she's folded at her waist.

"Beryl is here. There's something she—we—need to talk about."

My heart sinks. "Of course. I'll come right down."

"Take your time." She smiles nervously and leaves. Her light footsteps hasten down the stairs.

This is probably what you feared, Luke. The inquisition.

I make myself presentable and go to the kitchen. Fortunately, there's no one in the infirmary to eavesdrop. Beryl is pouring coffee into three mugs. Rose has retrieved canned milk and sugar from the cupboard.

"How can I help?" I ask.

They both startle before turning to me.

"Something has come up that I don't know how to discuss." Beryl doesn't meet my gaze.

Rose directs a frown her way. "Or if it needs to be discussed at all."

Beryl's face colors, but she insists, "Oh, it does, Rose. Surely you can see that."

"But I don't." Rose's color is high as well. They're both clearly distraught. Oh no. "I can't see why it matters."

"It matters because it's going to ruin two good men." Beryl clenches her fists on the counter.

"Dare I ask what you're talking about?" I pick up my coffee and take it to the table. I'm not going to make this easy. I'm not going to allow Marie's behavior to ruin the rapport I have with my staff. Unless they feel the same way. God. Is that it?

Rose turns to me. Her expression is both guilty and frightened. "There has been an accusation."

"What kind of accusation?" I'm glad I'm seated. I'm not certain my legs will continue to hold me. I feel like a character in a play, so I cross my legs insouciantly to project that I haven't a care in the world. Not one.

"It's Marie, Doctor Delano. She's made certain claims which, if shared with the wrong people, could cause great harm to—" Beryl looks to Rose with helpless discomfort as they gather chairs and sit opposite me. "—someone we care about."

"Are these claims distressing?" I ask carefully.

"They would be if someone blabbed about them."

"To your knowledge, are these claims true?"

What do these two know? Have they seen the looks, the touches, the tender moments when Luke and I have believed ourselves alone or forgotten that we're not?

"We don't know if they're true." Beryl shakes her head. "That's not the point. If Marie starts telling tales, it won't matter if they're true. You know what people will say: there's no smoke without fire."

"Anyway, it doesn't matter if they're true," Rose insists. "It's no business of Marie's."

Beryl picks up her mug. "Except she's made it our business by insisting that someone must do something about it for the good of the children ."

Rose huffs. "Oh, isn't that always the way with horrid gossips."

"It will be easier if you tell me what this is about?" I must make them say it. Otherwise, it will be a grain of sand in our work oyster, irritating us forever. No pearls. Just irritation.

Beryl raises her hands. "I for one, would rather die than repeat it."

Rose glares at her. "Marie claims that Dr. Hamilton has designs on your person for carnal purposes. She claims he's insinuated himself into our lives to destroy your principles and violate your moral…rectitude. As it were."

"Ye gods, you should have heard her." Beryl rubs her temples. "I've seen rabid dogs who spew fewer flecks of foam when they bark."

"I'm speechless." I don't know whether to laugh or cry. I can't tell if Beryl and Rose are angry because they believe Marie can't be right or because she's gossiping about me, and that's an important distinction.

"It's jealousy on her part." Rose lifts her mug and blows on it. "She isn't teacher's pet, so she wants to harm the person who is."

"Are you saying Luke is teacher's pet?" I ask.

"Of course he is. There. I've said it." Rose seems satisfied with herself. "What's wrong with that, I ask you?"

"Nothing." Beryl says forthrightly. "Unless she's been dreaming all along of becoming Mrs. Sumner Delano. If she's in love?—"

"That's not love," Rose argues. "Trying to destroy someone just because he doesn't love you back? Not love . You think you know someone."

"Exactly. I am shocked to my very bones." Beryl agrees.

"Let me see? if I have this right." Unease no longer chills my blood. "Marie is saying Dr. Hamilton and I are…canoodling?"

"Believe me, you're as pure as fresh snow. Marie's in a lather about Luke." Beryl leans toward me. "She considers you above that sort of thing. Vulnerable man of your age, she kept saying, like you're some kind of saint."

Does that make this worse? I think it very much does.

"I don't understand her," says Beryl. "Doesn't she want the clinic to succeed?"

"What exactly did she say?" I ask. "Don't try to spare my feelings. It's probably nothing I haven't heard before."

They exchange a look, and then Rose says, "I wasn't there."

Beryl covers her face with her hands. "She said a man like Dr. Hamilton made her brother…you know…commit acts of an indecent nature before they were able to get him married off."

"The thing is." Rose focuses on her short, buffed nails. "I'm of the mind that what people do in private is none of my business."

Again, Rose and Beryl exchange knowing looks.

"Oh, absolutely." Beryl sounds like an actress in a melodrama. "I wouldn't dream of telling someone what they should do in private or how they should think about private things."

"Or who they should love." Rose nods theatrically and I realize they're sending a not-so-subtle message. Beryl hasn't taken her eyes off her hands, but it feels as if she's drilling her gaze into mine and shouting the words. I am so relieved, tears spring to my eyes and my nose starts to run. I find my handkerchief and turn away for a moment.

"What do you suggest we do?" I ask.

I'm right to trust these two women with my life. I'm sad and sickened that I can no longer feel the same way about Marie, but I can't. It won't be the same when I see her again even if she does nothing. Even if she apologizes and promises to treat Luke with respect in the future, it won't be the same.

"I'll talk to Marie." Rose rises regally from the table. She rinses her coffee mug in the sink and puts it in the rack to dry.

"I'll go with you." Beryl stands up as well. "Dr. Delano, you'll be all right here on your own, won't you?"

"I'll be fine." I hide a chuckle. "You don't think I should come with you?"

"No, Doctor Delano." Rose dries her hands on a towel. For a brief second, she's got the aspect of a Spartan princess. Clytemnestra, maybe, after getting an eyeful of Cassandra. By which I mean murderous. I hope that's not the case. I would very much like any rumors to be squashed, but I believe—as I told Luke—I can weather a storm of disapproval if need be.

Luke left to protect me from a scandal, but I don't want that. I never wanted that. I would rather live in an isolated cabin in the wilderness than give up the chance to be with him.

"I don't want to lose him." I'm not sure I've said the words out loud until the sudden quiet.

Beryl and Rose look at me the way a mother looks at a toddler whose ice cream has fallen of his cone—with wry humor, tenderness, and appreciable love.

Beryl's brow furrows. "Is that why Luke left?"

"Did Marie say something to him last night?" Rose demands. "Is that why she left here early?"

I hesitate, but that seems to be enough of an answer for them.

"Come, Beryl." Rose smiles and holds her arm out like a suitor.

"Happy to." Beryl takes hold of Rose's elbow.

I am left with half a cup of coffee and a lot of questions.

I don't want answers. I want Luke back.