Chapter 6

Chapter

Six

Dr. Sumner Delano

All three nurses have hunkered down in the kitchen of the infirmary. They're drinking coffee. They look frightened, and I feel bad that I went out and left them to endure this first dust storm alone.

"I'm sorry, Rose," I tell her first thing. "I didn't realize the duster was on its way. If I had, I never would have left."

"You weren't to know." She helps me settle Dr. Hamilton in the cot he used overnight. "Beryl got here by the time it hit, anyway. We didn't want to leave until we knew you were all right."

"I don't want to leave now," says Marie. "There's all kinds of dirt blowing around out there. It scrapes your skin so bad it'll give you a rash."

Beryl follows us to the infirmary. "I didn't want to breathe it in."

"Me neither." It's like coal dust. No one should breathe it. Full stop. We brought plenty of masks for the patients. "I'd feel better if you take some of the masks for yourselves and wear them outside, even when it's not blowing."

We leave the still despondent Dr. Hamilton to rest and take a good look around the clinic. It's drafty, so the finer dust is getting inside. As I climb up the stairs to check on my rooms, I wonder if it makes sense to wear a mask inside until the storm is over.

"Damn." I don't realize I've shouted until my nurses react.

"What's happened?" Marie asks.

"There's dust sifting in from the ceiling." Falls of fine particles are drifting straight down in several places.

Quick feet pound up the stairs. Beryl and Marie stand in the doorway, staring at the mess. I put my hand out and let a bit of dirt fall on my palm.

"It's like flour. Or ash," I say, surprised. Unlike the grit outside, this stuff is as fine as a lady's face powder.

Marie starts going through the sheets I brought. "We can cover your bed with an older sheet. Then when the storm stops you can take it off the bed and shake it out in the alley."

"I'll get a broom and dustpan," I say, but it's probably futile. Whole galaxies of tiny particles float in the air around us some cycling on updrafts. Who knows when or where they'll fall.

I go downstairs where Rose is removing Dr, Hamilton's shirt with professional detachment. I tell her to leave him to me.

"Of course, Doctor Delano." She's relieved to let me undress him. I can't tell whether she's concerned about being with a half-naked man or because he's such a handsome devil, albeit a bit worse for the wear, but her face is on fire as she walks away.

"Could you take a broom and a dustpan upstairs for me? Marie will show you where it's needed."

"Of course, Doctor." She leaves the patient to me.

I start where she left off, unbuttoning Hamilton's white shirt, which is now liberally smudged with dirt. "Cat got your tongue, Doctor?"

He lifts his gaze to mine but doesn't speak.

"You've barely said a word since the fairgrounds. I can go to the gas station and call the Sheriff as soon as I'm done here. I think they have a phone. You'll have to tell me your address, your phone number, and the names of any neighbors you may have."

He still says nothing.

"We don't have a working phone here. If you give me the particulars, I'm sure they can get a deputy out to your place to check on your daughter."

At this, Hamilton begins to laugh. It starts as a quiet chuckle or two, but then he loses control.

"Sh. Lucas, don't." I stop undressing him to soothe him.

"Oh, God." He lies limply on the cot. It's as though he's given up resisting, given up trying to get home, given up hope. He flings his arm over his eyes and starts to weep again.

I rest my hand on his shoulder. "As a physician, you must know a head injury will scramble your emotions all to hell."

This makes him cry harder. Instead of dithering about whether it's proper, I follow my instincts and pull him into a hug. He wraps his arms around my shoulders and sobs against my neck.

One of the nurses slips into the room. The footsteps hesitate.

"Should I get you and Dr. Hamilton something to eat?" Marie watches us without expression.

I loosen Dr. Hamilton's hold on me. His tears have subsided a little, and now he rests on my shoulder, his breath hitching every so often.

"Yes, please." Of course he must be hungry. He was so determined to leave he never got his breakfast. "You're a saint, Marie. Neither of us have had bite to eat yet today."

Hamilton pulls away to lie on his side, facing away. He brings his knees up as if he wants to disappear.

"I'll find you both something filling." Marie leaves us.

Hamilton's breath still hitches every so often but he's quiet, too. Maybe he's ashamed of his outburst. Of needing to be held. God damn pride. When a man needs something, he should feel wise asking for it, not weak. I put my hand on his shoulder, and he doesn't pull away. The muscles beneath the fabric of his shirt are warm and firm. Hamilton's no stranger to physical exercise. Hiking, maybe, or swimming.

I decide to remove his shoes. The bottoms of his bare feet poke toward me since his knees are bent. They're as calloused as mine, as if he stands for a lot of his day. His feet are slim with long toes. They're delicate. Vulnerable. They're also dirty. I get a cloth, pour water from the pitcher, and begin cleaning them. He wriggles. Maybe he's ticklish. I find that adorable.

That's when the truth hits me like an electric shock. I would do anything this man needs. Give him anything within my power and that of my extensive, meddling family. I will help him get well. I will see he gets home safely to his daughter. And it will hurt when that time comes because this stranger has awakened something within me I thought I'd buried forever.

I'm not happy about how disloyal that makes me feel. I'm not betraying Philip, but feeling anything more than professional duty for another man seems wrong. I must think carefully about this. I don't like myself much right now.

Marie returns with soup for our patient. "I'll see to Doctor Hamilton. Your plate is on the table. Go eat before the dust covers your food."

"No, thank you, Marie. I'll take care of him."

She narrows her eyes. "It's going to be a long night, Doctor. You need to keep up your strength."

"I'll be fine." I can't make myself relinquish Hamilton's care. My heart feels strange—like a limb making its phantom presence known long after the amputation. I don't want to feel anything for a patient, but my heart is stretching itself, scenting the air, and hoping.…

Hoping, again.

I take the tray from her. "Go on, Marie. I promise we'll be all right."

Her lips tighten. "I'll be upstairs with the others. We'll try to make the apartment presentable for you."

"Thank you." I watch her prim figure as she walks away.

I wish I could send the nurses back to the boarding house.

I've never known a nurse who couldn't spot a man's shameful secrets from a mile away.