Seven

Sam and Grace made their way down the stairs when Grace decided she must cause some distraction to allow time for Claude to return Rebecca to her room. Maybe he was being helpful, checking her vital signs or whatnot; or perhaps he wasn’t. But whatever was happening, the look on his face told her he didn’t want Sam Hazzard to know of it. “Oh, could you show me one of the cottages? I might like to stay there when I come here full time. They’re just so cute, like a dollhouse almost.”

“They are more expensive, of course. For the privacy.”

“Oh, that won’t be a problem. I just have to get those account numbers, you know.” She giggled, then eased her way out the door at the back of the building.

Sam followed and used a key to open a cottage deep into the cedars and firs.

“There isn’t much light in here,” Grace said. “Even in the day like this. It might be quite dreary with the rainy season . . . why, I’d just waste away.”

“Ah, but sleep comes easily during the day when the sky is shrouded with treetops, and as the treatment continues there are many days when one simply wishes to sleep. Try the bed if you like.”

The last thing she needed was a panting Sam Hazzard hovering over her asking about the quality of the mattress. “Oh, that won’t be necessary. I might like the hospital better after all. This seems so . . . sparse . . . for the additional expense.”

“There is the single nurse, of course. You would have twenty-four-hour care.”

“I see.” A sick patient could be kept here as in a cell with no way to make her way to the mainland, no way to ever reach help if it was needed. She’d have to be certain she did not get relegated to the cottages. “So Rebecca isn’t in one of these?”

“Not at all, though she has the resources. She’s been so grateful to Doctor—” Sam stopped himself. “She prefers the hospital as well. Closer to the call of Dr. Hazzard who brings such comfort to so many.”

They crossed back to the main sanatorium and Grace noted two patients she hadn’t seen before were out taking the sunshine, with a keeper by their sides. A man and what looked like his son sat on a bench, and Grace could hear the man’s sharp retort as they walked by. “I’m fine. They’re doing me good. Now stop worrying. Never felt better in all my days. Tell your mother not to worry over me. I’m good here. Be home by June.”

“You see how happy our patients are,” Sam soothed into her ear.

“What? Oh, yes. I also see that each has someone to assist them. Might I be an assistant to a patient or two, while I’m doing so well and healing?”

“You would volunteer?”

“I would. Of course as I weaken in the transition before I become healthier and the parasite is destroyed for good, well, then I would need an assistant myself, wouldn’t I? But until then, I could just help out while I was here.”

“I’ll speak to my wife,” Sam said. “Here we are. A room with corner windows. Isn’t that lovely?”

“And room enough for another bed. Why, I could move right in with Rebecca and be her assistant.”

“As I said, I will speak to Dr. Hazzard. But here now is your friend.” He pushed back the curtain around the bed. Rebecca lay quiet as snow and just as white. “I’ll wait outside while you acquaint yourselves. Five minutes should do it, yes? And then we have papers for her to sign.”

“How are you, Rebecca?” Grace whispered as she leaned over her friend.

Rebecca’s eyes fluttered open though they looked right through her.

“Rebecca? Do you know who I am?”

“Grace?”

“Yes. It’s me. I’ve come to take you home.”

“But I’m not well yet. I . . . I have a parasite. And I’m still so fat! Oh Grace, Bertrand would be so upset with me for being so fat.”

“Bertrand would love you if you were as big as Mount Hood. He wouldn’t want you to be wasting away like this. He loved you and didn’t want to leave, but that’s what happens in life. It does, and, oh, dear, dear Rebecca—” Grace’s words caught in her throat, the pain of seeing her friend like this. “There’s no parasite, Rebecca. I’m sure of it. I have no symptoms and—”

“Time enough, ladies.” Sam leaned into the door frame, then propelled himself toward the bed, papers in hand. “Now then, Rebecca. You wanted a codicil to your will, is that right? We’ve had it drawn up and the $5000 annually for the sanatorium is your bequest, is it not? And of course that’s after you’ve paid for your care here.”

“Five thousand dollars! That’s ridiculous. She has a child to care for.”

“There’s enough, Grace.” Rebecca gripped Grace’s hand. “I’ve left some for you as well.”

“But you’re not dying, Rebecca. You aren’t. You’re going to get better. Tell her, Mr. Hazzard. Your treatments are meant to bring health, not death.”

“Sometimes we are not as skilled as we would like. And it will comfort Mrs. Holmes to know all has been settled in her will.”

“Don’t sign it, please. Let me take it home and read it first, to be sure—”

Rebecca sighed. “I would like that. Yes.” She sank back into her bed and dozed.

“See? She needs rest. I’ll just take the papers home and read them tonight and then I can assist her in the morning.”

Sam’s eyes narrowed. “This is highly irregular.”

“But she said she asked for it to be drawn up and now she just seeks another pair of eyes to review it. That’s what friends are for, to be eyes for another. Sometimes a voice for another.”

“Very well. Bring it back first thing in the morning and be prepared to help your friend see what it is she saw just a few days ago in wanting this codicil drawn up. It’ll be a huge waste of money and a nuisance if she changes her mind.”

“Oh I understand, I truly do. I’ll bring it back when I bring the money for my own account. The one hundred and fifty dollars.”

“See that you do.” He turned on his heel and she could hear his boots clopping down the hall toward Dr. Hazzard’s office.

“Rebecca,” Grace whispered. Nothing. She began to sing then, “Softly and tenderly Jesus is calling, calling for you and for me . . . Rebecca. I’m leaving now, but you’re not alone. Remember that. I’ll be back tomorrow. Hang on, dear friend. Please hang on.”

Grace breathed a sigh of relief when she saw Claude carrying her carpetbag toward the dock. William could be seen in the distance rowing his way.

“Thank you,” she said. “Thanks so much for bringing this.”

“I fetched it from Sam as soon as he returned. I take it you saw your friend.”

“As did you. I wanted to ask what she was doing in your lab. I can only hope you were doing her no harm.”

His shoulders dropped in relief. “I’m grateful you concluded that. But it’s best if I don’t tell you what I was doing exactly; just trust that I would never bring pain or suffering to any patient.”

“I should hope not.” She opened her carpetbag then and pushed around inside until she found the letter from Dora, Claire’s sister. “Oh thank goodness.” She clutched the letter to her breast. “Earlier today, when I was alone outside, a woman approached me. She was nearly a skeleton and she fell toward me, crushing this letter into my hands, mumbling things about her sister dying and her nanny needing to come. I must have not looked like staff nor a patient, but a visitor, so she sought me out.”

“Which is what you are, a visitor.”

Grace stepped over his comment. “She was so desperate, Claude. I ached for her and I’ve seen her sister. She is dying,” Grace whispered. “And I fear Rebecca is too.”

Claude pulled her into his arms then, a gesture as welcome as it was unanticipated. “Not if I can help it. Not if we can help it.”

She was safe in his embrace, encouraged, his hands rubbing her back in comfort, his chin resting on her straw hat. His touch was so unlike Sam Hazzard’s press against her waist with his sweaty palms earlier in the day.

“I’ve got to go to Seattle tomorrow,” Grace said, pulling away from his safety and warmth, yet letting his arms linger on hers. What did she really know about this man and what he might be doing here?

“Seattle, why?”

“I want to read old newspapers. Sam said they came from Minneapolis. I want to see if there’s anything about their diet treatment back there. I must mail Dora’s letter so it will arrive in Australia where their nanny is visiting as soon as possible.”

William arrived and they entered the boat, speaking not at all on the crossing. They docked near the hotel and heard the steam whistle of the ferry arriving from Seattle.

“Oh,” Grace said, “I should go now!”

“Can you take a letter to the mailbag so it will go back with the Seattle ferry?” Claude asked William.

“Yes, Doctor. There’s still time. I’ll take it there myself.”

“You won’t delay?” Grace said. William nodded. “But I still won’t get the other information I need—”

“Join me for dinner, Grace. I’ll tell you all you’ll want to know about the Hazzards’ past.”

Grace couldn’t decide what to wear. Her heart beat faster than normal. From the potion given to her by Dr. Hazzard earlier in the day? Or maybe lack of healthy food. Or perhaps it was anticipating dinner with Claude. Except that she wouldn’t have dinner. Why did I agree to join him? She called the desk clerk and asked if he’d send someone to deliver a note to Dr. Millikan, then she hastily wrote suggesting another change in dinner plans, pleading a headache. She did have a headache, but she also had to read the codicil. And she needed to know what Claude knew about the Hazzards. That knowledge would have to wait until morning. She folded the note to Claude as the bellman knocked at her door.

“Here—Oh.” She gasped.

“Yes. I do hope I’m not disturbing you.” Sam Hazzard dragged the words out. “I thought if I could assist you in reading the codicil, things would go more smoothly. I heard the bellman call and told the clerk I’d be happy to pick up the note for you. May I come inside?”