Henry and I ate dinner with Ruth that night and she was full of questions about Life magazine’s visit to the hospital, which had taken place that day. It was one of the more animated meals the three of us had had together. I might have enjoyed it if not for the fact that I was so filled with longing for Vincent I could barely eat.
The reporter and the photographers from Life had been low-key and respectful, although it seemed as though every time I turned around, one of them was standing behind me. They took pictures in the wards and on the grounds, the reporter marveling over what had been accomplished in such a short time. After the first couple of hours of having them around, the staff began to relax and we barely noticed the click of the camera and the pop of the flashbulbs. I knew I was in a few pictures, although whether any of them would be used in the article was anyone’s guess. I did wonder about the photographs taken in the admissions tent in the afternoon, when Vincent and I had been working together. I wore my surgical cap, mask, and gown, and even though my eyes were the only part of me that was visible, did they give me away? Was it obvious how in love I was with the doctor by my side?
After dinner, I wasn’t surprised when Henry said he was going back to the factory. “I’ve spent too much time at the hospital,” he said. “Everything at the factory is going to seed. The phone’s still not working properly. The boiler’s giving Zeke fits and he ordered a new igniter for it. We’re so short staffed, we’re way behind on our orders.”
I went to bed around nine, which was early for me. I wanted time alone to remember how it felt to work with Vincent in the admissions tent. When I was near him, his presence felt like something tangible, something I could put in a little box and carry around with me. A few times during the day, I caught him looking at me and each time our eyes met, he would smile. A couple of times, he touched my arm. My shoulder. This was all I could ever have of him, these stolen touches. Was he thinking about me right now? Was he too aching with the knowledge that we could never be together?
* * *
I’d drifted off to sleep when I was awakened by the ringing of the telephone. I got out of bed, pulled on my robe, and headed downstairs, wondering who would be calling us this late. The hallway was dark as I walked toward the kitchen, and I heard no sound from Ruth’s room as I passed her door.
In the kitchen, I picked up the receiver. “Hello?”
“Tess? This is Susannah Bowman.”
“Hello, Susannah,” I said, perplexed by the hour of the call. Susannah was the nighttime nursing supervisor at the hospital.
“We’re in a bind,” she said. “Three night nurses are out sick, and five new patients are checking in. I know you worked a full day today, but is there a chance you could come back for a few hours?”
“Of course,” I said, without hesitating. I was worried about those sick nurses though. I hoped none of them had polio symptoms. “I’ll get there as soon as I can,” I told her.
“Hurry, honey,” Susannah said. “We’re desperate.”
I got off the phone with Susannah, then dialed the number for the factory to see if Henry could give me a ride to the hospital, but there was no ringing on the other end of the line. Just dead air. I remembered: the phone at the factory still wasn’t working. I’d call a taxi to take me to the hospital. I could ask the driver to stop for a moment at the factory so I could let Henry know where I was going.
Upstairs, I quickly pulled on my uniform and stockings, taking only a few seconds to run a comb through my wild hair and pin it up in a bun. The taxi honked its horn out front as I made my way downstairs, and by the time I settled myself into the backseat I was winded.
“I need to go out to the polio hospital,” I said, “but first we have to stop at the Kraft Furniture factory.”
“The factory at this hour?” The driver looked at me in his rearview mirror. I couldn’t make out his face well in the darkness, but the tone of his voice told me he thought I was a bit crazy.
“Yes,” I said. “My husband is working there late tonight.”
Neither of us spoke on the drive to the factory and I used the time to catch my breath after racing around to get ready.
“Don’t look like nobody’s home, ma’am,” the driver said as we pulled up in front of the factory.
He was right. From where I sat, the enormous factory looked completely dark, but the small parking lot was illuminated by a street lamp, and I could see Henry’s car parked next to Zeke’s truck.
“He’s here,” I said, reaching for the door handle. “I’ll just be a few minutes.”
The front door was unlocked, as I expected it to be, and I walked into the foyer. The darkness felt overwhelming to me and I had to feel my way to the door that led to the stairwell. At the top of the stairs, I walked into the hall. There was no light coming through the crack at the bottom of Henry’s office door, and I guessed he was somewhere else in the factory. How would I find him? Zeke’s room was on my right, and a faint light came from beneath his door. He would probably know where Henry was.
I knocked on Zeke’s door. At first there was no response and I worried I was waking him up. I knocked a bit more assertively.
“Yes?” It was Henry’s voice, and I imagined Zeke was letting him nap on his sofa.
“It’s me, Henry,” I said, pushing open the door. The light from a lamp on the dresser illuminated the room with a soft glow and it took my eyes half a second to understand what I was seeing. They were covered only by a sheet in Zeke’s bed, white and brown skin, arms wrapped around each other. Henry and Honor.