Chapter 23
April, 1873Thomas
One more month, and he’d graduate.
If he survived that long.
The weight of exhaustion had become Thomas’s constant companion, pressing down on him relentlessly. Yet, amidst the fatigue, the demand for swift, precise decision-making never relented. There were expectations, and he could not be found wanting.
It was bad enough a cleaner had discovered him squatting in the hospital attic. It had necessitated adjustments, and he’d found solace in returning to his room at the boarding house. The gift of lobbying for his fellow students and being granted a single day of respite each week for the remainder of the term made all the restless nights worth it.
The rain drummed against his window, a dreary accompaniment to his thoughts. Thomas had no desire to emerge from the warmth of his bed. Though fewer lecture classes alleviated some strain, the burden of responsibility remained unabated.
While a student of his caliber could easily forgo attending classes altogether, his role as ambassador obligated him to assist those persevering through the board’s rigorous expectations to attain their degrees.
Knock, knock.
Thomas swung his feet to the floor. “Coming.”
“It’s David,” the boy whispered into the wood.
Thomas opened the door to two brown paper-wrapped packages.
“Laundry’s in this one. The lady said your clothes are dirtier than a miner’s. At least, I think that’s what she said. She’s kinda hard to understand.”
“Thank you, David. And the other?”
“Cook saved the innards from the chickens for your friends. Says liver, heart, and gizzards will get them feeling better soon. You want some breakfast? There’s eggs, bacon, and bread left.”
The clock struck eight. He’d lain around longer than usual. “I’ll dress and be right down.” He’d need to hurry if he planned to spend time with Douglass and Harriet and still make it in time for dinner at the Whitakers’. This time, he wouldn’t be late.
Thomas washed, dressed, and grabbed his satchel on his way to the kitchen. The room was quiet as he swallowed rather than fully chewed his food. Over the past years, too many missed meals had taught him this skill. Eating food for the sake of sustenance was now ingrained. His mother would have a fit when he got home.
The house was quiet as he reached for his Mackintosh on the coat tree. The rain jacket would be cumbersome and stuffy in this unusually warm spring weather. He opted for the umbrella tucked underneath but could not locate it. He bent farther under the hanging garments.
The front door swung open, colliding with his hip, and a coat covered his head as he stood up.
“Oh! I’m so . . .” The female on the other side burst into tears.
He hadn’t meant to scare her and pulled the jacket away from his face. “Teddy?” He instinctively reached for her, but she recoiled.
“Don’t. Don’t.” The frantic words rushed from her lips even as the umbrella went up, creating a barrier.
He hadn’t frightened her; someone else had. The taste of metal filled his mouth even as the coolness of steel wrapped around his heart. “What happened?”
“N-n-nothing,” she stuttered. “You frightened me; that’s all. Too many ghost stories as a child.” She swiped at her face. “I’ve made a mess. I need to clean this up.” Her still-open umbrella dripped on her muddy shoes.
Trembling hands could be the result of the stress of being frightened, but the slight sheen of sweat on her brow didn’t likely come from fast walking. Teddy stepped back, and Thomas watched her pupils dilate even more. Her sympathetic nervous system was in overdrive, and Thomas wasn’t sure which response, fight or flight, was next. He stepped back, putting the coat tree between them, hung the jacket, then picked up the satchel he’d dropped.
Teddy didn’t move. Like a statue in a storm, her taut muscles still gripped the umbrella handle. Water continued to puddle at her feet. “Teddy, I’m going into the kitchen to get a towel.” He backed away rather than turning until he reached the dining area, where he laid his satchel. “I’ll be right back.”
Teddy’s gaze darted wildly around the room.
He spoke quietly. “You’re safe.” The words released something in her, and her body began to shake. This was going to require more than a towel to clean up.
Thomas strode to Cook’s door and banged on it. “Cook?”
The woman’s eyes went wide when she opened the door. “What is it? Is David hurt?”
“No, ma’am. I’m in need of towels, and—” Thomas rubbed his neck. “Teddy needs a woman’s touch.”
“Say no more.” Cook grabbed a stack of clean towels and took deliberate steps. Thomas sank against the counter and listened to Cook’s soothing words in the other room.
“Don’t you be worrying none about the floor, child. May I take the umbrella for you?”
Thomas marveled at the woman’s tone, the same one he’d used hundreds of times on a frightened animal that could be dangerous if not handled carefully. He rubbed his temples and remained in the kitchen until he heard the women heading up the stairs, Cook’s soft words encouraging Teddy with each step.
What could have possibly happened to upset her so? Teddy had served as a war nurse. Perhaps some type of memory had surfaced. Only, she seemed to have an aversion to him, not Cook.
Him, a male.
Her, a female.
He felt the veins pop out in his neck. If someone has been improper with her— Thomas couldn’t finish his statement.
The clock struck eight thirty. There was nothing more he could do here now, but he’d get to the bottom of this.
If she’d let him.
Harriet opened the door. Her hollow cheeks matched the slimness of her waist. The apron strings wrapped around and tied in the front in an uneven bow.
“Thomas. It’s good to see you. Douglass isn’t up quite yet, but the coffee’s on.”
He closed the door behind him, allowing fresh air to fill the stale room for a moment. “Is he feeling better?”
“Some. Every day is a new day. He’s aged ten years in the past nine months.”
Nine months. Had he really only visited a handful of times in that period? “I brought you something. Actually, Cook sent it.” He handed her the waxed paper-wrapped package. “She’s convinced chicken innards cure anything.”
“She’d be just about right. I’ll chop it up real fine and make giblet gravy. Douglass will like that over rice.”
Gray hair and an unshaven face peered around the bedroom doorframe. “Did I hear my name?”
Thomas moved to where Douglass held the doorframe and offered his arm. Douglass’s stooped form leaned on Thomas as he struggled to maintain balance. Every step was labored, and his legs wobbled as he turned to sit.
“Whew. These old bones ain’t what they used to be.” Douglass’s veined hand shook as he wiped at his dry lips. Every motion was slow and looked painful.
“Are your joints bothering you with this rain?” Thomas slid the coffee Harriet placed before him to Douglass.
“Part of aging, son.” He took a sip, the liquid spilling on the table when he replaced the heavy ceramic mug. “Tell me about you. You done with your schooling yet?”
“Classwork, yes, sir. But I have a few more hoops to jump through. Nothing is guaranteed until I hold that signed diploma in my hand.”
“Fine. Fine.” Douglass laid his hand flat on the table. His yellowed nails, which were full of ridges and cracks, looked odd next to the chalky brown skin. Thomas wanted to reach over and cover the hand to still the tremble.
Harriet joined them, setting two more cups on the table. The familiar spark of love passed between his two friends. Thomas had expected to feel something like that with Emmaline by this point, but all he saw in her eyes was disappointment and frustration.
“How’s your girl?” Douglass asked.
“Emmaline? She’s fine. I’m headed to the Whitakers’ this evening for dinner.”
“Well, we won’t keep you.”
Thomas finished his coffee. “Oh, no. I’d planned to spend the morning here. I noticed you have a dead tree limb near the house. I thought I might take that down for you today.”
The two exchanged glances, and Thomas quieted.
Harriet worried her napkin. “We were hoping you’d do something a little different today if you have the time.” She looked at her husband.
“Anything.”
Harriet laughed. “Don’t be agreeing until you hear what Douglass is asking.”
Thomas waited for Douglass to put his coffee mug down, but the man only stared at the liquid.
Harriet finally spoke. “If you won’t ask, I will. I don’t have the strength to get Douglass in and out of the tub, and he’s sorely in need of a good soak in hot water.”
Thomas was not prepared for that but didn’t flinch. “Douglass, I’d be happy to assist you. No, don’t go taking back the request. You shake that head all you want. I’ve already agreed. See, I’m already rolling up my sleeves.” He stood. “I’ll head to the shed and get the tub. Harriet, you may as well boil enough water for two.” Her eyes went wide, and Thomas laughed. “You can get your own bath, but I’ll change out the water for you.”
“Well, isn’t that just the most thoughtful thing? Did you hear that, Douglass?”
“I may be getting old, but I’ve still got my hearing.” He winked at his wife.
Thomas sank into the boarding house tub and let out a sigh. It had been a good but draining day. The tree had proved hard work, but seeing Douglass’s emaciated frame had been harder. Douglass wasn’t long for this world. Thomas was all too aware of the final stages of life.
He’d tucked the man in bed, promising to be back the following week on his day off, but had said goodbye knowing it may be the final time. Harriet’s side work seemed to be keeping food on the table, not that they were eating much, and he was thankful the woman had a source of income. But Thomas would pull from his savings if needed to ensure the comfort of his friends.
He dreaded the day Douglass would depart from this world, his heart heavy with the impending loss, almost as much as the thought of arriving late to the dinner party looming ahead if he didn’t hasten his steps. He dunked under the water and rinsed the soap from his hair.
Back in his room, Thomas stared at his reflection. He almost didn’t recognize himself. “What’s the plan, Thomas?” The figure in the mirror didn’t seem to have an answer either. He straightened his tie and opened the door. Whispered voices came from behind the door with the wreath. It had spring flowers in it now and was the only brightness at this moment.
Teddy didn’t want his help. He couldn’t fix everyone’s problems, especially if they didn’t ask. Giving Douglass a bath hadn’t been his idea of an enjoyable afternoon, but he would never say no to a friend’s request. If Teddy wasn’t willing to ask for assistance, there wasn’t anything he could do.
Anger turned to resignation as Thomas accepted Teddy’s reluctance to accept help. He couldn’t force assistance onto someone unwilling to seek it themselves. While he might lack the energy to delve into the root of Teddy’s struggles, he could still offer prayers for guidance and comfort.
He shut his door more forcefully than necessary and locked it. At the bottom of the stairs, he glanced into the parlor to find Reggie and Merriweather playing dominoes, unaware anyone was watching. They shared the same look he often saw pass between Harriet and Douglass. He heard a coach approach and stepped out into the damp Philadelphia evening, its moisture settling like a cloak around his mood.
Thomas opened his eyes and wiped at his mouth. He must have dozed. He ran his tongue over his teeth and took in a fortifying breath before descending the single step from the carriage. The toy soldier, forever at his post, did not speak but pointed to the library. Thomas was familiar with the sequence of events: drink, discussion, dinner, doldrums, and possibly dancing if Dr. Whitaker did not over-imbibe.
“Thomas, my boy. The women are running behind, giving us a chance to talk. Please join me.” Dr. Whitaker’s words slurred as he lifted his glass of amber liquid from where he sat in a leather chair.
At least there would be no dancing this evening. The man’s leg, which was crossed over the other, bounced. Thomas was hypersensitive, and the motion scraped at his raw nerves. Maybe the evening would go better if he were hypnotized. He stared at the up-and-down motion of the black leather. Although the man’s shoes were buffed to a high shine, the sole was worn, showing the interior layers of leather.
He heard nothing the man droned on about and took in the curtains, faded by the sun. The vase of flowers was dried rather than fresh, a few of the stalks broken and silk flowers missing.
Had the house always been in this state of disrepair? Why hadn’t he noticed the worn rug under his feet and cracked leather under his hand before? He watched Dr. Whitaker’s animated hand motions as his lips moved, but Thomas heard nothing.
“Snap out of it, boy.”
A shoe connected with Thomas’s foot.
“Have you fallen asleep with your eyes open? So, what are your thoughts?”
Thomas had no idea what the man was talking about. From the recesses of his mind, he pulled a phrase he’d heard Jimmy use. “That is really something.” He shook his head as if still processing the information.
“Exactly what I thought. I knew you’d think so as well. Fascinating, really. The marvels of medicine continue to amaze me. The future of medicine looks bright. Which brings me to the next subject—your future.”
Thomas found it easy to focus now. “Sir?” he inquired.
“What are your thoughts on becoming the next general surgeon on staff? Upon graduation, naturally.”
“Of course,” Thomas replied, feeling his heart quicken.
“With a position like this, alongside Emmaline, you’ll ascend rapidly in society’s ranks. You’ve already established quite a remarkable reputation. We’d even consider you for an associate role on the new committee to the board. We’ll soon discuss our fine hospital being the first teaching hospital in the East. You’d be at the forefront of a new era. Why, Emmaline, despite her youth, would assume the role of matriarch among incoming students.”
Thomas let the man continue, the alcohol seemingly fueling the rambling discourse on the implications of having a son-in-law of high status.
Had this been the man’s intention all along? To elevate his daughter, given his lack of sons? Or was it to bolster his own name and standing in Philadelphia society?
“Ah, there are my lovely wife and daughter.”
The man stood and wobbled. Thomas reached out to catch the man, but Dr. Whitaker handed him the empty glass.
“That’s a good boy. Already caring for your old man.”
He’d cared for an old man today, but it wasn’t this one.
“Dinner is served, darling.” Mrs. Whitaker took her husband’s offered hand.
Thomas followed the Whitakers into the dining room, his mind still reeling from Dr. Whitaker’s proposal. He took his seat, trying to shake off the fog that enveloped him. The table was set with elaborate silverware and crystal glasses, but the air was heavy with tension.
Between courses, Mrs. Whitaker made small talk, but Thomas couldn’t focus on the conversation. His thoughts kept drifting back to the offer Dr. Whitaker had hinted at. The position at the hospital was a prestigious opportunity, one that could significantly advance his career. And the offer of Dr. Whitaker’s daughter’s hand in marriage added another layer of complexity to the situation.
Thomas couldn’t ignore the nagging feeling that something wasn’t right. Why had Dr. Whitaker chosen this moment to make such a proposal? And why did it feel like there was more to the offer than met the eye?
The meal sat like a stone in his stomach. He needed to talk to Dr. Whitaker—but not with Emmaline in the room.
Emmaline’s glass tipped. “Oh, how clumsy of me. And on my new dress.” She locked eyes with Thomas.
Could Emmaline read his thoughts? Was she giving him the opportunity he desired?
Mrs. Whitaker stood. “Come, dear, let’s get you changed. Gentlemen, we shall meet you in the music room momentarily.”
This was his chance. “Dr. Whitaker, may I speak with you in private for a moment?” Thomas asked, trying to keep his tone casual despite the urgency he felt.
Dr. Whitaker looked pleased, as if he knew the outcome of this discussion. Rising from his seat, he motioned to the door. “Of course, Thomas. Shall we adjourn to the music room as instructed?”
They made their way down the hall. Dr. Whitaker turned to the servant. “Close the door, would you, Otis?”
Thomas wasted no time getting to the point. “Dr. Whitaker, I appreciate the offer you mentioned earlier, but I need to understand the full extent of what you’re proposing.” His voice was steady and firm, unlike his nerves.
Dr. Whitaker’s expression turned sober, and he motioned for Thomas to take a seat. “What I’m offering you is a chance to excel in your career, to make a name for yourself in the medical community.”
Thomas nodded, but his mind was racing. There was more to this offer than just professional advancement. Did the man expect him to marry his daughter and remain in Philadelphia forever?
Dr. Whitaker’s foot bounced over his knee, showing his impatience.
“Sir, with all due respect, I was clear from the beginning that I would be returning to Shumard Oak Bend upon graduation.”
“Ah, but all that has changed now. You have my daughter to consider. Your plans are no longer solely yours to decide. Your life has become intertwined with hers, and your future hinges on the decisions you make.”
A subtle threat lingered beneath the man’s words, a silent warning that hinted at consequences if Thomas didn’t comply with his wishes.
Thomas’s gaze hardened. He did not appreciate being bullied. “Indeed, sir. And I assure you, I will consider all aspects of your offer carefully. In due time.”
“Don’t wait too long, Mr. Shankel. Graduation is upon us, and every decision you make seals your fate.”
It was a good thing Thomas didn’t believe in fate.