Chapter 10 #2
“My grandmother was very fond of white picket. She said it reminded her of the place she grew up in Missouri. Do you remember the time we came here to learn how to crochet doilies?”
Carrie vaguely remembered the small white house and the challenge of crocheting. “I remember your grandmother loved lemon verbena. The house always smelled of it.” Glancing up and down the street, Carrie felt certain it would be an easily accessible address for her patients to find.
“She loved that scent as well as lilies of the valley. Oh, I’m going to miss her so much.” Katie motioned Carrie to follow. “Let me show you the place.”
Once inside the house, Carrie was even more convinced that the house would work well for them.
The music room would be perfect to set up an examination table and laboratory.
Since she planned for them to have separate bedrooms, she was particularly interested in what that arrangement might look like.
When Katie showed her the first bedroom, Carrie immediately thought it would be perfect for Spencer.
It wasn’t all that large, but it would suit him.
There was a large chest of drawers and a bedding box at the foot of the double bed.
The single window was not only shaded but had heavy blue curtains as well.
The next bedroom was much brighter. It had been papered in a rose-print pattern. There was a smaller bed here, as well as a writing desk and bookshelf. On the far side of the room was a small closet, a rarity to be sure.
Carrie was already thinking about the future and how the little house would suit her quite well as a practicing doctor living on her own. If the rent was right, then she could imagine herself living here quite comfortably. As long as she could get patients.
“I think this room would make a pretty nursery, don’t you?” Katie moved to the double window and pushed back the rose-colored curtains. “There is a lot of light to be let in since the room is on the south side.”
“I see that.” Carrie hoped the conversation wouldn’t linger on children. She didn’t want to have to answer questions about whether she and Spencer planned to have offspring right away.
“Did you know that Charlotte Aldrich—well, she’s a Hamilton now. She married Micah Hamilton. Anyway, they’re expecting a baby almost any day now. Their first.”
“I’m sure they’re very happy about that.” Carrie moved toward the door. “Can we see the kitchen now?”
Katie closed the curtains and joined Carrie in the hall. “I used to bake cookies with Grandmother in this kitchen. We spruced it up a bit when Mama arranged for her to have electricity and a telephone, but it still brings happy memories.”
Carrie was glad to hear that the place had a telephone. She would have arranged for one even if it hadn’t, but to have it already in place was a nice benefit that she hadn’t counted on.
She looked the kitchen over and nodded. “It would work very well for us. I think we’ll take it.”
Katie looked delighted and then sobered. “What about your husband? Shouldn’t you discuss it with him first?”
“We have already talked about it. He told me if I found something today to go ahead and agree to the rental.” Carrie smiled. “Let’s go speak to your mother.”
Eugene Astor was none too happy to hear what the doctor had to say.
As he left the hospital in Kansas City, he barely found the strength to keep walking.
He was exhausted from the examinations, explanations, and lack of solutions.
All he wanted now was to return to his hotel and seek comfort in a bottle of whiskey and a warm bed.
There was no hope. No help for him, and perhaps that’s what he deserved.
He had lived a selfish life. He had never concerned himself with helping to better the lives of others, with exception to his mother.
Never sought to have a religious experience that might propel him into thoughts of eternity in the presence of God.
Surely murderers weren’t allowed in heaven, even if sins could be forgiven.
He hailed a cab and gave the driver the address of his hotel before settling back against the cold leather.
It was snowing again, and noting the color of the skies, Eugene was convinced a heavier storm was moving in.
Perhaps it was just as well. He would need several days to restore his energy before moving on to Chicago, where he was supposed to see a specialty clinic. One that focused solely on the brain.
“But why bother with Chicago?” he murmured aloud. “The doctors have made it clear there is no help to be had.”
He tried not to become maudlin about his condition.
He was, after all, an old man who had lived a good life.
It hadn’t been ideal by any means, and he still regretted the fact that he’d never allowed for a woman to mean more to him than a passing fancy.
What a difference it might have made had he known the right partner with whom to face life’s woes.
He shook his head at this thought. No, if he’d married and had children, then they, too, would be facing his demise.
There would be all sorts of sentimentality.
Bad and good. It was better to face this alone.
There was no one he needed to comfort or convince that he was doing well enough . . . that he wasn’t in any pain.
But he was in pain. A great deal of pain. It wasn’t constant, for which he was quite grateful. However, it was often enough and bad enough that he had no desire to share that part of his life with anyone.
The cab halted in front of the multistory brick building, and a hotel doorman helped Eugene down from the carriage. He handed the man money to pay the driver and headed toward the door of the hotel. The doorman quickly caught up and reached out to hand Eugene the change.
“Keep it. You’ve more than earned it.”
“Thank you, sir.”
The man opened the hotel door and ushered Eugene inside just as the wind began to pick up. “Welcome back, Mr. Knowles. Would you care to have dinner brought up?” the front desk clerk asked.
Eugene nodded. He wasn’t really hungry, but it seemed the right thing to do. “Yes, send me the same thing I had last night.”
The man nodded. “The evening papers have been delivered to your room, along with the whiskey you ordered.”
“Thank you.” Eugene handed the man his gratuity and headed for the elevator. His body was breaking down with each step. He needed very much to be in his room . . . alone.
It seemed to take forever, but Eugene finally closed his door and shut out the rest of the world.
He made his way to an overstuffed chair and sank down.
Closing his eyes, he mourned the news he’d received.
The same hopeless news he’d been told before.
There was no doubt a tumor pressing against several important nerves and parts of his brain.
The tumor was inoperable and growing. His time was limited.
Weeks, possibly months, but definitely not any real length of time or quality of life.
He would most likely go blind, given the way his vision was already blurring.
The dizziness would increase, as would the pain, and leave him unable to rise from his bed.
Eventually he would fail to awaken, and from this state of coma, he would pass from the earth to whatever existence awaited him.
Facing the truth was hard. Ignoring it, however, was impossible.
Eugene reached over for the awaiting bottle of whiskey. It was a fine brand and age. He’d spent extra money to purchase it and have it delivered to the hotel. What was the sense of having money if he couldn’t enjoy some of it himself?
He opened the bottle and poured a bit into a glass that the hotel staff had thoughtfully left. The aroma brought back memories of happier times. Times he spent in his brothers’ company before the war. They had been young and carefree. The world awaited them, and their dreams were limitless.
Eugene gazed across the room, imagining Calvin and Amos joining him there. He lifted the glass in salute.
“I shall see you both soon.”