The Forgotten Room(53)
He recovered quickly and called me back again. I paused, looking past the banister at him, and hoped he knew I could see his bald spot from my elevated position on the stairwell. “We’re short staffed tonight. Another nurse has defected to the WAVES. I’m afraid I’m going to need you to empty all the bedpans in the main ward.”
I knew that to argue, to remind him that I was a medical doctor, same as he was, would do no good and would only set me up for even more “selective” duties. I took a slow step down.
“And when Caroline Middleton arrives in the morning, I want you to make yourself available to her. She has all sorts of questions about New York—where to shop and where to eat; women things—and I told her you’d be happy to answer any of her questions.”
I smiled, even though I had the flashing visual of him tumbling over the banister. “Yes, Doctor.” I flipped on lights as I made my way to the main ward. Nurse Hathaway was still there, holding the hand of a patient and humming softly. I nodded in her direction, then began checking bedpans.
“We already took care of it, Dr. Schuyler.” The orderly I’d seen with Nurse Hathaway was at the far wall turning on the overhead lights. As if noticing them for the first time, I saw how ugly the fixtures were, how out of place against the rich wood paneling and elaborately molded ceilings. They were an abomination, I thought, glad the architect of this masterpiece wasn’t around to see the desecration.
“Thank you,” I said, nodding to him and then the nurse. I looked down at my watch, pinned to the front of my lab coat, and realized that it was almost six o’clock. Since I was due for rounds at seven, it made no sense to toss and turn for such a short time before reporting back to work. At least I had time to wash and change clothes.
After hesitating only a moment, I ran up the servants’ stairs to the top floor, pausing only briefly to make sure there was no sound or movement before entering the attic room. It was pitch-black inside, with only the slow, steady sound of Captain Ravenel’s breathing to let me know I was in the right place. I aimed my flashlight at the floor and quietly crept to the corner of the room. I’d found an old, empty trunk and was using it as a place to store my clothes as well as a dressing table. I’d managed to find a cracked gilt-framed mirror and hung it on the wall behind the trunk, which made me feel a lot more elegant than circumstances allowed. It must have once hung in the main house, and whenever I peered at my reflection, I couldn’t stop myself from wondering who else had sought to see themselves reflected in the old glass.
I fiddled one-handed with the trunk’s latches and popped them open, then shone the flashlight inside to pull out clean clothing. I had just grabbed my last clean slip when I heard the switch of a lamp and found myself and the room clearly illuminated in pale yellow light.
“Glad to see you’re not a German.” Captain Ravenel was sitting up in bed, grinning as if he were privy to a very funny joke.
“Sorry. It’s only me. And that was just an air-raid drill. I hope you didn’t really think the Germans were coming.”
“Would you protect me from the Germans if they came?”
“Yes,” I said without thinking. “I mean, it’s my job. To protect my patients.”
As if it were even possible, his grin widened. “I’m flattered, I’m sure.”
I rolled my slip inside the dress I’d pulled from the trunk, then placed the bundle on top of a tall casement clock with no face before approaching the bed. “How are you feeling this morning?”
“Now that you’re here, like I could run a mile. If you’d smile at me, then I could probably run three.”
“Captain, please. You shouldn’t say things like that.”
His grin faded, and I found myself missing it, found myself wishing I’d said nothing so that I could continue my fantasy. That was impossible, of course. His fiancée had come to him. Had come to take him home.
“No,” he said. “I shouldn’t.” His eyes searched mine, as if he’d heard my thoughts.
Since I was already there, I decided to help out Nurse Hathaway and take the patient’s vitals. I avoided looking at him but felt his eyes on me like I imagined a flower felt the sun. “I’ll need to examine your wound. I know you must be eager to return home, but I’m afraid I can’t discharge you until there is no sign of infection.” I raised my eyes to meet his, to let him know how serious I was. “If we do not kill all of the bacteria, the infection will return. And there will be nothing left to do except amputate.”
“Yes, Doctor,” he said slowly, and there was no sign of sarcasm.
I pulled back the covers just enough so I could examine the leg, then carefully removed the bandages, doing my best to concentrate on the wound and not the beautifully muscled leg. Focusing on my work, I cleaned the wound as I examined it, pleased with his progress.
As I washed my hands in the bedside basin, I said, “It’s looking very good. I’m thinking you should be able to leave in about a week—two weeks, tops.” I smiled, wondering why the good news didn’t make me feel as happy as it should. Turning away from him, I wrote my short report on his chart, my handwriting shakier than usual. Lack of sleep.
I replaced the chart on the bedside table, feeling the weight of the ruby necklace under my dress, the stone burning my skin. Until I could return it to Margie, I wore it to keep it safe, having convinced myself that I didn’t need to show it to Cooper. It’s just a necklace. There must be dozens, hundreds, just like it. Stop thinking of reasons to tie him to you.