10
Prosperity stumbled into the darkness, turning this way and that until she was utterly lost.
This night shook the foundations of the life she’d managed to build here. Hard work to help the sick and learning about local medicines had given her purpose. But a few minutes with David exposed just how shaky that new life was.
She could not forget him. Her wicked heart still longed for him, even to the point of wishing his wife dead. Cruel emotions! She must not let them master her.
She clung to a fence. The rough slats dug into her palms.
Get. Out.
His wife was right. Prosperity shouldn’t have been there. She should have left the moment she realized who the patient was. A former fiancée should never appear at the birth of the couple’s child.
Their baby.
Not hers. She choked back the pain.
Why hadn’t she asked Dr. Goodenow for the patient’s name? Why, when she realized it was David’s wife, hadn’t she told the doctor that she could not assist? Instead she let him believe she would help. When he needed her, she ran away. He wouldn’t trust her any longer. He shouldn’t. The faint glimmer of a future died.
Hot tears bunched in her eyes.
“Mama,” she whispered. “Papa. Why did you have to leave me?”
They had been her source of counsel over the years. Even while ill, Ma had passed on her wisdom. Tonight, the rustle of palms, sounding so much like rain, was her only answer. That and the huff of a horse and the crunch of carriage wheels. Its lantern drew near, and she pressed into the shadows of this dark night.
Her heart quickened as the carriage slowed and the door swung open. A man stepped to the ground. What could he want but mischief? Fear pulsed life into her limbs. She picked up her skirts and ran.
“Stop, Miss Jones.”
Dr. Goodenow. Why was he here and not at David’s house? Had David’s wife died? Had the desires of her wicked heart come true? She halted, her limbs trembling.
He drew near. “I didn’t mean to frighten you. The commander and I have been looking for you.”
“Why?”
“My dear, you cannot walk alone in the darkness. This is not Nantucket.”
“That is not what I meant. The patient . . . ?”
“She delivered a son.”
Prosperity drew a shuddering breath. “Then she lives.”
“She survived the birth but is not out of danger.”
Oh, how cursed the heart that wishes ill of another. Prosperity squeezed her eyes shut against that hope. “I will pray for her.” Each word hurt.
How to answer? “I saw her once.” She could imagine the doctor’s raised eyebrow and the questions that danced in his mind. The woman had demanded she leave, after all. To all appearances, they were well acquainted.
“We ought to go.” The kindly man did not press for an answer.
She would give it anyway, in the hope that saying it aloud would snap the thread that connected her to David.
“She married my fiancé.” Her throat constricted. “My former fiancé.”
He drew in a long breath, made more poignant by the pause. “I am sorry.”
Nothing more could be said.
“Don’t you want to hold the baby?” the midwife asked.
David stared at her. This wasn’t his baby. This wasn’t his son. The memory of Aileen’s lover raced through his mind. Was that man the father, or were there others? His wife knew no boundaries. Did she demand payment or did she give herself away to any man who showed the slightest interest?
His stomach seized violently, and he had to turn away to compose himself. He could not hold this child. Nor could he climb the stairs and face the woman who had stolen his life.
“Sir? Are you all right?”
He yanked open the door. “I must leave.”
“In the middle of the night?”
“Yes.” How could he explain? He didn’t even understand himself. He only knew he couldn’t stay.
“Where are you goin’? When will you be back?”
“I don’t know.” His tone came out too harsh, but he could find no compassion within. Aileen had cost him the love of his life. Aileen had stolen his future to cover up her indiscretions. This baby spelled out that fact for all to see. No one could mistake what she had done, and he could not hide that he’d been deceived.
“But the baby and your wife. They need care.”
David pulled every dollar from his wallet and thrust them at her. “Care for them. Hire a nurse if necessary.”
The woman’s eyes rounded. “Aye, sir.” She snatched the money from his hand. “I’ll take good care o’ your wife and babe.”
Not his baby. That much was certain. But he could not deny that Aileen was his wife. The marriage certificate proved it.
The midwife would not let it go. “But in the morn—”
“Hire someone.”
He stepped across the threshold and into the breezy night. The door slammed shut, whether from his anger or the wind he did not know or care. He flew down the steps, eager to escape these quarters that had become a prison.
Overhead the stars twinkled. The tiny hint of a crescent moon, newly risen, cast little light. He stumbled across the parade ground, numb to all but the pain. Where would he go? What would he do? By morning everyone would know the truth.
“Where are you going, Lieutenant?” the guard asked.
David jerked out of his thoughts. “Where?” He had no idea.
“If you’re going after the lady, the commander and the doctor said they were going to escort her home.”
The lady. David laughed bitterly. What a contrast between the woman who ought to have been his wife and the woman who was. One brought gentleness and honesty. Every virtue detailed by the apostle Paul. The other? The blackest vices known to man. How grievously he’d wounded Prosperity. She would never forgive him. He wouldn’t in her place. Small wonder she had fled. He was the last person she would want to see tonight.
“No, I’m not looking for the lady. I’m going to town.”
He would let a room. Then he remembered that he’d given all his money to the midwife. The taverns and grogshops might give him credit, but that was where he’d run astray in the first place. That left his office. It would not be comfortable, but it was his last retreat.
“You’ll be back later tonight?” the guard asked.
“No.”
David wasn’t sure he would ever return.
The events of the night shook Prosperity so badly that she could not eat the supper Elizabeth had asked Florie to set aside for her. She excused herself due to a headache and slipped into bed. In the darkness she could hide, but it gave her no comfort. Though she was exhausted, sleep stayed away. Hour after hour she tossed this way and that, battling the echoes of this terrible night.
A couple times her eyelids drifted shut, but even those brief respites were pierced by the shouts of David’s wife.
Get. Out.
The words reverberated until Prosperity pressed the pillow to her ears. Nothing could blot them from her mind. The hatred had spewed at her like a rushing wave, knocking her from solid ground. She flailed and searched for stability, but none could be found.
What had she ever done to this woman? She didn’t even know her name. Prosperity ought to hate her, for this woman had stolen her future. This woman would join David wherever the army sent him. This woman would welcome him home at night. This woman would watch their children play in the yard.
It should have been me.
Over and over. A thousand times the scenes repeated, but no peace would come. Tears dampened her pillow, leaving salt traces on her cheeks. She did not brush them away, too worn to even lift her hand.
She must never see David again.
As the sun sprinkled the trees with the promise of a new day, that resolution gave her strength. She must walk away from her beloved forever. If he sought her, she would turn away. If he spoke, she would ignore him. If he wrote, she would return the letters unopened.
It was the right thing to do. He had a family now. Their lives no longer intertwined.
That resolve gave her the strength to walk unescorted to her job at the hospital. It stiffened her spine when Miss Stern glared at her with lips pressed together. She repeated it with every stroke of the wash paddle in the boiling laundry tub.
“Miss Jones.” At the midday dinner break, Miss Stern approached her. “I wish to speak to you in my office.”
The woman’s grim expression jostled her fragile confidence. Had she done something wrong? Every worker feared a call to the matron’s office. Usually it ended in dismissal, but if that was the case Miss Stern would have asked her there when she’d first arrived. Unless some new accusation had formed during the morning hours.
The walk to the matron’s cramped office was painfully short. After a sleepless night, Prosperity wasn’t sure she could bear up under a verbal thrashing.
Miss Stern did not close the office door behind them, but she did proceed to her small desk surrounded by shelves of supplies and books. Prosperity glanced at the titles. The Nurse’s Guide. The Family Nurse. Perhaps Miss Stern aspired to greater duties than presently possible. Perhaps they shared that small dream.
“Please sit.” Miss Stern motioned to the wooden chair across the desk from her.
Prosperity sat. She carefully arranged her skirts and apron before folding her hands on her lap and straightening her spine so she could look the matron in the eyes.
“Let me get straight to the point,” Miss Stern said. “Dr. MacNees informed me this morning that Dr. Goodenow requested your assistance last night at a birthing.”
Since the woman waited for a response, Prosperity nodded.
“This is not part of your duties. You are a laundress and housekeeper. Understand?”
“Yes, Miss Stern.”
“Women do not assist physicians. Understand?”
“Yes, Miss Stern.” Though Prosperity gave the expected response, her gaze drifted to the books. Dreams could be crushed, but Dr. MacNees had approved of Prosperity joining Dr. Goodenow. Surely he would not disapprove of Miss Stern’s ambitions. “But a woman did assist Dr. Goodenow.”
Miss Stern’s expression tightened.
“The midwife,” Prosperity added. “She was the one who sent for the doctor.”
“That is not the point, Miss Jones.”
Perhaps fatigue had emboldened her, but Prosperity could not let it go. “Women are fully capable of nursing a patient.”
For the briefest of instants, hope flickered in Miss Stern’s eyes, but it soon dimmed. “Our ability is not the issue, Miss Jones. Propriety is. Dr. MacNees assures me that your attendance was at his request and that of Dr. Goodenow. He seems to believe that excuses the breach in propriety. It does not.”
Prosperity could not breathe. Her predecessor had been dismissed for impropriety. She closed her eyes and steeled herself for the words that were certain to come.
“I will not tolerate a repeat of such conduct. Understand?”
Prosperity’s eyes shot open. Miss Stern was not dismissing her? “Then I still have my position?”
“As long as you abide by the rules, but let me warn you that any association with physicians or patients outside the strict guidelines of your position will be grounds for dismissal. Understand?”
“Yes, Miss Stern.” Prosperity must not see Dr. Goodenow anywhere near the hospital. Their walks could not take place within Miss Stern’s sight. Alas, his journal was still in her possession, and he would doubtless arrive this evening to escort her back to the O’Malleys’ house. She must inform him of Miss Stern’s directive and send him away. If anyone saw her hand him his journal, the gossip would send her back to the matron’s office.
“Miss Jones?” The matron scowled at her. “You may leave now.”
“Yes. Of course.” Prosperity hurried away, deep in thought. How could she return the doctor’s journal if they never saw each other again?
An orderly carried a tray with tea service toward the dining room. Tea! Of course. Dr. Goodenow often attended Elizabeth’s teas, which she held every other Tuesday. That gave her three full days to wade through his scribbling and copy the parts that most intrigued her. Elizabeth had grown up on the island. She could point out the plants, and then Prosperity could connect them to the notes in the journal.
She had been hurrying along at such a pace and so deep in thought that the man’s exclamation made her jump. It took no time to spot the source of the comment.
“David.”
He looked dreadful, even worse than last night. Dark circles underlined his eyes. His curls stuck out in every direction. His shirt hung loose, soiled by dust, its collar missing. So too did he lack a coat and hat. Any effort at military correctness was gone. He looked like a man who had spent the night in a tavern.
She instinctively backed up a step. “What do you want?”
His dry lips moved before any sound came forth. “To talk.” His voice rasped like a planer against rough wood. “You are my friend. My only friend.”
Oh, if a man’s words could drive tears to her eyes, David’s could. But she knew the futility of this path. “Your wife.”
He turned away, overcome.
Her heart raced. Had her wicked desire come to pass? “She lives?”
He nodded, and she breathed out a sigh of relief. At least she was not guilty of murder with her thoughts.
“The baby?”
He looked back at her, eyes red and mouth twisted. “A boy.”
A son. Her heart ached. It should have been hers. Theirs.
“Congratulations.” Even to her ears it sounded hollow.
Yet, all was as it ought to be. Then why was he here? To stab her over and over with what she had lost?
She crossed the hall. “I must return to work.” She tried to slip past, but he grabbed her arm.
“Prosperity.”
She froze. His touch still sent shivers through her, but those feelings were wrong, so terribly wrong. “I can’t talk.”
“Tell me you understand. Tell me you forgive me.”
She knew she should. She knew what the Bible taught.
Instead she pulled her arm from his grasp. “I’m not allowed to speak to anyone when on duty.”
He wanted more, needed more. She saw it in his eyes. But she could not give it. Not now. Maybe never.
“Good-bye, David.”
He stared back with pleading eyes, his shoulders slumped.
She ripped her gaze from him and hurried down the hallway. Would he follow? Half of her wanted him to come after her. Half did not. She could not bear to look back, could not bear to know. Instead she kept walking, body steeled as her shoes pounded on the wood floor. At the end of the long hallway, she headed down the steps. On the landing, she paused, heart pounding.
No sound of footsteps.
No pleas.
Nothing.
She crept up the steps and hazarded a peek.
He’d left.