As Bright as Heaven(92)

“Where do you need to go, if I may ask?”

“I must consult with another patient’s family. In Camden.”

He took his eyes off the road to glance at me. “New Jersey? In this weather? It will take you forty minutes to get there.”

I shrugged. “I have to go.”

“I’ll take you across. It’s only eight miles or so. Let me take you.”

“Mr. Reese! I couldn’t possibly have you do that.”

“I insist. This is no kind of weather in which to be out.”

“But I don’t know how long I will be.”

He turned east in the direction of the Delaware River and the newly constructed bridge to New Jersey. “All the more reason for you not to be out in all this.”

I could see that he would not be persuaded, and in truth, I didn’t want to spend the next few hours dashing through driving rain onto train platforms. “This is so very kind of you.”

He shook his head. “It’s nothing.”

But it wasn’t nothing. Not to me.

On the way, he told me about the book printing business he owns with his mother, and that he is the oldest of five children but the only son. Three of his four sisters are married, two with small children. The last at home is sixteen. He and Sybil had been married five years, but I already knew this. I knew she had started to drift just a few weeks after their wedding. All this was in Sybil’s file. I told him the names and ages of my sisters and our ward, Alex; about losing my mother and great-uncle to the flu; and my lifelong desire to be a doctor. He shared that he, too, had lost a parent to the flu. His father.

Conrad was easy to talk to, and it seemed in no time we were pulling up in front of the Franklin Hotel, a four-story building, white brick with green trim, that had seen better days. The striped awning out front sagged with the weight of water and too many years.

“Shall I just wait right here for you?” Conrad asked.

I looked up at the tired-looking structure from a rain-streaked window. “I actually may be back out rather quickly.”

“Oh?”

I turned to him, feeling a little guilty for not telling him up front that the Dabneys might not give me even five minutes of their time. “I’m not sure how much help this family is going to want to be.”

He frowned. “Want me to come in with you?”

“No. It’s not that. They just . . . They don’t want to get too involved. I don’t think I’ll be long. But if you need to get back . . .”

“I’ll wait,” he said.

I got out of the car and ran through the rain to the front door. The foyer inside was carpeted in a floral print that had mellowed to a subtle brown. Two green leather chairs were situated around a table and a coal fire. A woman of ample size with streaks of faint silver in her hair sat behind a desk. Behind her, room keys dangled on a felt-covered peg-board lined with hooks.

“May I help you?” she said.

“Mrs. Dabney?”

“Yes.”

I took a breath. “My name is Evelyn Bright. I am a medical student and one of the care providers for Ursula at the Fairview Hospital. I’d appreciate it very much if I could ask you a few questions about what happened to her and her baby brother.”

Rita Dabney’s eyes widened a bit. “I told that other lady that we don’t have the money to pay for a mental hospital. I made that very clear!”

“I’m not here for money, and no one is going to ask you to pay for anything. I just have some questions.”

“She’s not really our problem, you know. I feel sorry for her. I always have, but she’s not really ours. If you ask me, we’ve been more than kind to her. Especially after what she did. She killed our first grandchild, you know.”

My hackles rose at the callousness of this woman’s words, but I reined in my indignation and continued with my calm questioning. “Yes, so I’ve heard,” I said. “I just want to know what happened that day her brother died. And then what happened after it.”

“Well, none of us were there. We were here, and Ines and the children were over the river in Philadelphia.”

“Ines?”

“Ursula and Leo’s mother. Cal’s first wife. She and he had that little apartment off South Street in as derelict an area as I’ve ever seen. I told Cal when he was about to be shipped off to the war that Ines and the children should come here to live with us, but Cal and his father weren’t on speaking terms then and he didn’t want any part of that. Maury and I weren’t even invited to the wedding. Cal married this Croatian widow with a five-year-old daughter and we weren’t even consulted or invited.”

The woman stopped and grimaced angrily, like the offense still stung.

“And then Ines and Cal had a child?” I asked so that Rita Dabney would go on, even if it was to continue talking about herself when it was Ursula I was asking about. I was beginning to see more and more the dark depths of Ursula’s world.

“Cal didn’t even tell us she was pregnant until the baby was born, and even then I had to beg to see him. Ines convinced Cal I should at least be able to see the baby. But then he was shipped off to France two weeks after Leo was born. Next thing I know there’s a killing flu all over the face of the earth. I didn’t know Ines had it. And I didn’t know she had given it to Ursula. If I had known I would have come for them no matter what Cal had told her before he left. I didn’t know!”