The Cure for Dreaming(72)

Some of the men and boys actually laughed at that statement—they laughed!

Claps of thunder erupted from the stage behind me. I gave a start and peered over my shoulder to discover the silenced mothers and daughters hurling themselves down the staircases at the sides of the stage in their long, shimmering gowns. They barreled toward us and shoved me away from Henry. Sadie and her mother lifted him by his shoulders. Mrs. Underhill and Eugenia grabbed his legs. Lizzie and her mother hoisted him up beneath his back. In less than two seconds, those women had his limp body up in the air and were rushing him across the room.

I jumped to my feet and chased after them through the palm-lined lobby and out to the cold night air. With Henry bouncing in their arms, the ladies reached an enclosed black carriage parked near Sixth.

I lunged to help them open the door and told them, “Be careful,” as they maneuvered Henry’s head inside and spread him across a padded seat.

Sadie waved her arms at the driver and mouthed the word hospital.

The driver shrugged his broad shoulders. “Speak up. I don’t know what you’re saying.”

“You need to drive this carriage to the hospital,” I said for her. “Quickly!”

Sadie dove inside the vehicle with her mother and Henry, and the other ladies ran to the carriage behind them. I tried to follow Sadie into her carriage, but the door slammed shut in my face, and the horses trotted away.

“Olivia!” Father stormed toward me with my coat hanging off his arm. “We’re going home. That was a shocking thing you two did in there. I’m appalled beyond words.”

“What are you talking about?”

He gripped my arm with a squeeze that made me gasp.

“I’m not stupid, Olivia. You’re able to speak when the rest of those women were silenced.”

“I just—”

“You conspired with that hypnotist behind my back again and put those ladies in peril. What else have you been doing with him in secret, you lying little hussy?”

“I . . . what does any of that matter right now? Something’s terribly wrong with Henry. His sister’s waiting for him in the hotel. She’s supposed to have surgery in San Francisco this Friday.”

“That’s Reverie’s problem, not mine.”

“We only conspired against you because he thought what you were doing to me was horrible. Don’t punish his sister for our actions.”

Father hardened his jaw but eased his grip.

“Please,” I said, “she’s done nothing wrong, and she’s waiting for her brother. Go with me to fetch her so we can tell her about Henry and take her to him.”

He puffed a loud sigh.

“Father?”

“All right, I’ll give that poor girl a ride, but I’m not paying her brother one cent of my money. Come along.” He wrapped my coat around my shoulders. “Let’s go find our driver and be quick about this.”


GENEVIEVE’S DOOR ALREADY SAT AJAR.

“Oh, no! What’s happened here?” I hurried down the hall and pushed my way inside, expecting kidnappers and murderers and chaos.

Instead, I encountered the strange scene of Genevieve, Frannie, Kate, and Agnes sipping mugs of steaming tea on the Rhodeses’ hotel sofa. Genevieve—solid and sturdy— wiped away tears with a handkerchief and smiled.

I blinked to ensure they wouldn’t all disappear. “What’s happening?”

Father strode into view behind me, and all four pairs of eyes seemed to ask the same question of me.

Frannie stood up from the right-hand arm of the sofa. “We raised money for Genevieve, just in case . . .” She looked between Father and me. “In case there was no other money to be had.”

Father and I eyed each other.

“Between school, the bookstore, and this evening,” said Kate, nestled beside Genevieve on one of the sofa cushions, “Frannie was able to collect close to seventy-five dollars.”

“Seventy-five?” I stumbled toward them.

“Isn’t it wonderful?” Genevieve rose with her mug. “I don’t even know what to say. I never dreamed of such kindness.” She stood on tiptoe and peeked over my shoulder. “Where’s Henry?”

“He’s . . .” I swallowed and clamped my hands into fists.

Genevieve’s tea sloshed over the rim. “What’s wrong?”

“Your brother,” said Father, “collapsed after he and Olivia played a dirty hypnotist trick upon a group of women. He’s on his way to the hospital.”

Genevieve flickered out.

“I don’t know what’s wrong with him,” I said, rubbing my temples to bring her back into view, “but he’s there, and we’ll take you to him.”

“Is he all right?” she asked, now a weak sputter of light. “Was he able to speak?”

I shook my head. “You had better come.”

The mugs were set aside, the door locked, and our six pairs of feet thundered down the hotel staircase.

Out by the carriage, Frannie folded me up in a hug. “You’re still leaving after all of this, aren’t you?”

“As I told you,” I said into her ear, “train rides are faster and easier these days. Thank you for helping Genevieve.”

“You’re welcome. Please be extremely careful, Responsible Woman.” She gave my lips a quick peck and sent me into the hired carriage with Father and Henry’s wavering ghost of a sister.