Chapter 10

ten

“ A h, there you are, Dr. Hart.”

Trudy looked up from her copy of the Journal of the American Medical Association which she—at Aunt Breezy’s insistence—had started hiding inside the latest edition of Harper’s Bazaar Magazine. Standing beside her chair was one of the Mr. Bostwicks, but judging from his greeting, she knew it must be Chase.

It was early Sunday morning, and Trudy was enjoying the peace and tranquility of the front porch while most of the other guests were either sleeping off last night’s festivities or attending church services in town. Her sisters were among the former while Asher and Poppy were, reluctantly, with the latter.

“Why don’t the older girls have to go to church with us?” Asher had grumbled to Aunt Breezy an hour prior as Trudy listened through the bedroom door. “It’s not fair. Maybe Poppy and I wanted to sleep all day like them.”

“Because, young man,” Trudy heard Breezy respond. “It’s my Christian duty to take you to church. You want to get into heaven, don’t you?”

“Sure, but do you really think my going to church will be enough?”

“For you? Probably not, but my taking you might at least help me get in.”

Trudy heard Asher chuckle good naturedly as he said, “If that’s the case, getting my sisters to go would earn you some real points with the Almighty.”

Breezy scoffed. “Even God doesn’t expect miracles, boy.”

Trudy had stifled a giggle and jumped back into bed lest her aunt realize she was awake. It wasn’t that she minded going to church. In fact, she rather liked parts of it, but sitting on the porch of the Imperial Hotel, watching the sun dry dew drops off the morning grass was every bit as spiritual as a sermon, as far as Trudy was concerned. And having some uninterrupted time to read? Now that was a miracle.

But it seemed she was to be interrupted.

“Good morning, Mr. Bostwick,” she answered, raising her hand to shield her eyes from the sun. “I was hoping to see your wife at the dance last night. Did I miss you in the crush?”

He shook his head and sat down in the chair next to her.

“No, we weren’t able to make it. Jo wasn’t feeling well.”

“She wasn’t? Oh, I’m sorry to hear that. Is she better this morning.”

His nod was half-hearted. “She says she is, but I’m not convinced. Truthfully, that’s why I came to find you. I do hate to impose, but I was wondering if you might stop by and see her today.”

“Of course, I’d be happy to. What seems to be the problem?”

His relief at her response was clouded by his concern.

“I’m not sure,” he answered. “As you can imagine, I’m quite out to sea in this matter. She keeps insisting she’s fine, but I sense she’s more uncomfortable than she’s willing to admit. She was too fatigued to attend last’s night’s ball, and this morning she’s complaining of a headache.”

“I see. In that case, I can go see her now, if that’s convenient.”

His expression brightened. “Most convenient. Thank you! Only…”

“Only?”

“She doesn’t know I’ve come to find you.”

Trudy crooked an eyebrow, and he smiled sheepishly. “She told me not to bother you, and I told her I wouldn’t, but she knew I would. She doesn’t want to take advantage of your generosity, especially since we’ve already imposed upon you to treat Alex’s finger.”

“Don’t be silly. It’s no imposition at all. In fact, I’m sorry she’s not feeling well but I miss seeing patients. I feel rather rudderless without something purposeful to do.”

“If you’re sure it isn’t too much trouble,” he said.

She closed her periodical and rose from the chair. “No trouble at all. Lead the way, Mr. Bostwick.”

Some fifteen minutes later they were standing outside a second-floor suite.

“Just go ahead and knock,” Mr. Bostwick said. “And if she asks, you never saw me.”

Trudy looked at him askance. “And am I supposed to fabricate a reason for my visit then?” she asked dryly. “Good morning, Mrs. Bostwick. I just happened to be wandering around on this floor and wondered if you’d like some unsolicited medical care?”

He chuckled at her humor. “Yes. Perfect. Say exactly that.”

“I will not say that. Come inside with me and confess your intervention or I’ll be on my way.”

He hesitated for only a moment then with a subtle shake of his head, he turned the crystal knob and slowly opened the door. “You drive a hard bargain, Dr. Hart,” he said quietly before calling out, “Darling? I’ve brought you some company.”

They stepped into the room and Trudy saw Jo leaning back in an upholstered chair with a cloth pressed against her forehead.

“Oh, you silly man,” Jo muttered, setting the cloth on a side table and straightening in the chair as if to rise.

“Please don’t get up. It’s not necessary,” Trudy said quickly, walking closer.

“Good, then I won’t. You may blame my poor manners on this impertinent baby,” she answered with a wan chuckle. “And please pardon the mess. We’ve forbidden the maid to tidy in this room since she cannot tell our trash from our treasures.”

The room was a standard hotel design, but with the bed removed to make space for a large walnut desk currently littered with official looking documents. Surrounding that was a collection of easels, and more painting supplies than Trudy had ever seen in one place. She marveled at the array of tubes and pots and brushes, as well as the numerous canvases, some blank, and some in various stages of creation.

“My wife is finishing some commissioned pieces for the hotel,” Chase explained. “So, Hugo was kind enough to provide us with an extra room where we might work together.”

“It’s not exactly Paris,” Jo said. “But at least it doesn’t require an ocean voyage to get to.”

Chase crossed the room to her side. “Darling, can I get you anything? Some tea, perhaps, for you and Dr. Hart?”

“Yes, some tea, please. And if you truly love me, you might see if Mrs. Culpepper has any cucumber sandwiches.”

“I do, and I will.”

“Thank you.”

“Can I get anything for you, Dr. Hart? Besides the tea?” he asked as he turned.

“No, I’m fine, but thank you.”

“Of course.”

He crossed back to the door, and as it shut behind him Jo gazed over at Trudy, an expression of mild exasperation on her face.

“I don’t really want cucumber sandwiches,” she said, “but he needs to be doing something, and his hovering is driving me mad. I’m sorry he bothered you.”

Trudy chuckled. “It’s truly no bother. I was reading on the porch and have very few plans for the day. I’m sorry you’re not feeling well.” She took a seat in another upholstered chair not far from Jo’s and gazed around the room.

“It rather looks like a herd of cattle stampeded through here, doesn’t it?” Jo said. “I’m usually quite tidy but it doesn’t take much for this small space to look cluttered.”

“I rather like it in here,” Trudy responded. “The mess feels more at home to me than all the opulent décor. And your paintings are marvelous.”

“Well, hopefully they will be when I’m finished. Do you paint?” Jo asked.

“No. I draw a bit but mostly things of a clinical nature. Injuries, curious anatomical anomalies, ideas I have for new medical equipment. Things like that.”

“That’s rather fascinating. I’d love to see your work,” Jo replied politely causing Trudy to chuckle.

“No, I don’t believe you would, but I appreciate you saying so.”

Jo’s smile appeared sincere, although Trudy could see lines of fatigue around her eyes.

“Perhaps one day you might take one of my painting classes and try your hand at something more lighthearted. A bowl of fruit perhaps? Or a bouquet of flowers?”

“My sisters are far more artistic than I, but I’m willing to make an attempt, as long as you won’t think less of me for my inability to properly render a daffodil.”

“I assure you, I would not. And may I add, I am entirely daunted by your other skills. Your deft handling of that incident with Alex was inspiring.”

Trudy laughed again. “It isn’t much to set a broken finger.”

“But it wasn’t just that. You kept everyone calm. Well, everyone except for me when I lambasted the boys for their foolishness while we were in Hugo’s office, but even then, you had the good sense to send me from the room.”

“My apologies for that.”

“Don’t apologize. It was the correct decision. You knew just what to say, even to Alex and that’s no small thing.”

Trudy warmed at the compliment. “Thank you. I appreciate your kind words, but let’s talk about what’s troubling you. If you’d like to, that is. I realize I am here at your husband’s request, not yours.”

“I will happily accept any medical advice you offer. We are over the moon with joy about this baby, but I admit I did not expect pregnancy to be such an ordeal.”

“You did mention at dinner that first evening you’d suffered from some dyspepsia. Is that still the case?”

“No, that’s abated for the most part, thank goodness, although it does come back occasionally.”

“Then may I inquire what unpleasantness has you worried?”

“I suspect my husband is more worried than I am, but occasionally I get light-headed or dizzy, my back aches, my legs sometimes cramp, I can’t sleep so I’m tired all the time, and as you’ve already witnessed, I burp indiscriminately. Perhaps these issues are commonplace, but my mother passed away when I was young, and I had a rather unconventional upbringing. I wasn’t around women who were expecting so this is all very new for me. And of course, every time I ask Dr. Prescott about any of it, he just pats my hand and tells me I’m being hysterical.” Her eyes widened as if a thought was just now occurring to her. She gazed over at Trudy and said, “Oh, my goodness. Am I being hysterical?”

“Of course not,” Trudy assured her. “Please don’t ever let the dismissive nature of my male colleagues make you question your own judgment. Especially one such as Dr. Prescott.” She could not disguise the disdain in her voice. She didn’t even attempt to.

“He’s horrible,” Jo said in agreement. “Which you probably discerned from your encounter with him after the bicycle race.”

“He was certainly patronizing, and I can only imagine how much worse he is regarding matters of the female condition.”

“Horrible,” Jo said again. “Most of the female employees of the hotel refuse to see him. They try to see Dr. Hargrove instead but he’s in town and always busy, so they’re often left to their own devices. Chef Culpepper is adept at sewing stitches. He says it’s from trussing up turkeys for roasting, but for other medical matters, the women tend to rely on one another.”

“That’s not ideal. Has anyone mentioned their dislike of Dr. Prescott to Mr. Plank?”

“I don’t think so. No one wants to be seen as a rabble rouser, but that’s a good suggestion. Hugo can’t fix the problem if he doesn’t know it exists. It’s less of an issue in the winter, of course, because there are fewer of us here, but even then, the general opinion is that being treated by Dr. Prescott is oftentimes worse than having no physician at all.”

Trudy felt her ire rise. In this day and age, there was simply no excuse for shoddy medical care.

“That’s infuriating,” she said. “And all too common, I’m afraid. I’ve encountered innumerable physicians who let their egos cloud their judgment, and many who dismiss a woman’s concerns simply because the medical community insists on keeping the mechanics of our female bodies a mystery. Society does everything it can to keep us weak and mild, yet when women are faced with something as complicated and difficult as bringing new life into the world, we’re accused of being hysterical. It’s maddening!”

“Here! Here!” Jo replied enthusiastically, making Trudy blush.

“My apologies. I’m rather passionate about broadening the scope of knowledge regarding what women need from their physicians.”

“And how fortunate we are that you do,” Jo responded. “Powerful voices are necessary to bring about meaningful change in any area. As an artist, I’ve witnessed what obstacles society puts in my path as I strive to be acknowledged, but I can only imagine how much more difficult it is in the field of medicine.”

“It hasn’t been easy,” Trudy admitted. “Progress and acceptance swing like a pendulum. A new sensibility moves things forward but oftentimes those in charge send us backward because they can’t adapt. I realize a female physician is a novelty to many, but I do hope to change that perception.”

“I believe you will.”

“Let’s hope, but perhaps I should begin by helping you. I do have a number of suggestions to ease your discomfort, but I must ask, have you consulted with a midwife?”

Jo’s cheeks flushed. “I had one who I liked very much but my mother-in-law made her cry, and she hasn’t returned.”

“How did she make her cry?” The question was not medically relevant, but Trudy was curious.

“I believe she called the woman slovenly and ignorant. Or perhaps it was… slatternly and incompetent? She definitely called her unkempt and bedraggled, not seeming to realize the poor woman had been up all night attending to a very difficult birth.”

Having met the other Mrs. Bostwick, Trudy wasn’t surprised. Those seemed like the kind of words Constance might use. Hopefully she’d never use them on Trudy.

“Your mother-in-law seems to be a woman of strong opinions,” Trudy replied.

“You have no idea. When Chase and I first married, I was certain I could bring her around to liking me but so far I’ve not had much luck. I’m hoping maybe a grandchild will soften her.”

“Babies do have a way of melting hearts.”

Trudy’s heartstrings tugged at her own words—an inexplicable reaction given her decision to remain childless. It was a choice she’d made pragmatically and rationally, and not one that often triggered doubt. Yet suddenly, the idea of holding a baby in her arms sounded very appealing. She must be feeling sentimental since Jo was so near her time.

“When do you expect the arrival?” she asked.

Jo’s smile was hesitant. “Well, based on when we got married, Dr. Prescott has said to expect the child in August but…” Her voice dropped off and Trudy nodded with comprehension.

“Ah, I see. You suspect you may be further along than that?”

“I’m certain of it. In fact, I think that may be what the midwife said that caused my mother-in-law to shred her to pieces. That’s the reason I haven’t reached out to her. I’m too embarrassed.”

“Being surrounded by people you trust when your time comes is the most important thing,” Trudy said. “If you’d like me to contact this midwife on your behalf, I’ll happily do so.”

“Would you? Oh, but that’s silly. I should write to her myself. I owe her an apology, at the very least.”

“It sounds more as if it’s your mother-in-law owes her an apology.”

“That will happen when pigs fly,” Jo responded.

“What will happen when pigs fly?” Chase asked, coming in through the doorway with a heavily laden tea tray.

“Um…” Jo replied. “Hugo Plank passing up an opportunity to promote the hotel.”

Trudy turned her face to hide her smile. Some little white lies were in everyone’s best interest.

“Ah,” he said, setting down the tray on the table near his wife. “Mrs. Culpepper made these sandwiches just for you. Harlan has apparently been fiddling with things in the greenhouse and she said these cucumbers are something special. Although if you ask me, the only way to make a cucumber interesting is to turn it into a pickle.” He smiled, reminding Trudy just how much he looked like his brother. She found that fascinating from a biological standpoint—and rather distracting from a personal standpoint.

“Thank you, darling,” Jo said. “Now why don’t you run along and meet Alex like you’d planned. I have Trudy to keep me company and once we’re finished chatting, I intend to spend my afternoon in the rigorous pursuit of reading and napping.”

He glanced at his wife, and Trudy sensed his hesitation.

“I have no plans today,” she said. “I can stay as long as Mrs. Bostwick would like me too.”

“Oh, good heavens. You must call me Jo, and although I’ll certainly enjoy your company, please don’t think I need a nurse, or in this case, a doctor, to watch over me. It’s a headache and it’s nearly dissipated.” She turned to Chase, adding, “I love you, but you have to stop fussing. Go bother your brother. He’s the one with the broken finger.”

Trudy and Chase exchanged smiles, and he set down the teapot.

“Very well,” he said. “As my services are not currently required, I shall vacate the premises.” He leaned over, kissed Jo’s cheek, picked up a hat sitting on his desk, and departed.

“Has your headache truly dissipated our were you just trying to be rid of him?” Trudy asked as the door shut behind him.

“No, it’s nearly gone,” Jo assured her as she poured them tea from a Lenox pot.

As they sipped from the elegant cups and ate tiny, delicious sandwiches, they discussed Jo’s symptoms and Trudy’s suggested treatments. They spoke of chamomile, ginger, and peppermint, along with stinging nettle, raspberry leaf, and Partridge berry, and all the while Trudy felt a kinship growing between them. She liked Jo Bostwick. With her, Trudy felt she could be entirely herself, and that was a blessing.

“When you get closer to your confinement, you may try some blue cohosh tea to ease your back pain but be aware it can bring on early labor. That’s something to ask the midwife about.”

Jo stirred her tea, looking thoughtful for a moment.

“I will write a note to the midwife, and I’d like her with me when it’s time, but…” She looked up at Trudy. “Do you think you could be there, too? In fact, would you consider being my physician until after the baby is born?”

Trudy felt her eyes get misty with emotion—which was utter silliness. It made sense Jo would want a doctor she could be honest with and who could answer her questions—and one who wasn’t Dr. Prescott.

Still, it meant something that Jo trusted her.

“Of course, I will. I’d be honored.”