Unfortunately, Cordie must be worried that I have contractedsome soporific disease for she keeps trying to roust me when I do not wish tobe rousted—putting her hand on my forehead and testing for fever, calling my nameagain and again.
“You really must wake up, Miss Hester. It’s near one o’ clock.You’re to meet Dr. Kelly for tea in a couple of hours. Wouldn’t you like to usethe water closet at least?”
Well, now that it’s been mentioned…
Sitting up slowly, I stretch, then climb out of bed, use theWC, and take a rather chilly bath. Copper is not my friend when combined withcold water.
“It’s your own fault,” Cordie says. “The hot pails were broughtin same as usual, steam floating all over the place, but Sleepyhead couldn’t bebothered to bathe then.”
Cordelia can be such a kind person. And then she has herMarquis de Sade moments. She’s in a huff for some reason, and refuses to get meanything more substantial than a dry piece of toast.
“Breakfast was at nine. As always.” My companion hustles about,getting my tea ensemble in order. “And you don’t want to spoil your appetite.”
Her quips continue as I get ready for my appointment, and forreasons unknown to me, I accept this reversal of power. Maybe it is penance formy assignations with Tom.
“Your escort has arrived, Miss Hester. Promptly, I might add.He knows how to follow a schedule.”
And none too soon. Cordelia has almost reduced me toself-flagellation and haircloth. Dr. Kelly’s voice at our front door signals aliberation devoutly to be wished. Cordie hands me my cane, makes one more swipeat the back of my velvet cloak, and follows me downstairs.
Mama has decided to overlook the awkward dinner with Kelly,letting bygones be bygones. He is unattached, has an education, and performs avaluable service within the community. Therefore, allowances for his behaviorare being made. She now attributes his blunt speech not to rudeness but to aNew England sensibility. Mama even visited Kelly’s office and asked him to beher personal physician, given that her previous doctor retired and moved toArizona.
She is feeling weary today, and Cordelia is remaining at homewith her instead of chaperoning me at tea. My companion pulls the cloak’s hoodinto place over my hair just before the doctor and I step outside.
Kelly takes my hand and slips it into the crook of his arm.“You look like a Dresden figurine that I saw in a shop window once—a skaternamed Snowflake. Everything she wore from her hat to her shoes was white. Butyou’re all in blue, Hester. Perhaps I’ll call you Violet.”
I smile at this, and Kelly helps me up into his buggy, thenclaims the driver’s seat. He throws a blanket over my legs and snaps the reins.The horse walks forward and breaks into a light trot.
“Borrowed this rig from a colleague,” he says. “Speaking ofwhich, I need to drop by the hospital on the way to tea. You don’t mind waitingwhile I sign a few documents, do you?”
I nod in agreement. Kelly is paying for my meal later on, afterall.
“So cooperative.” He gently bumps my shoulder with his. “Youare Hester Grayson from Stonehenge, Colorado. Not her doppelganger or long-losttwin?”
He banters this way, teasing me frequently, until we reach themews near the hospital. We leave the buggy with a stable boy, walk a couple ofblocks, and enter the building through the back. The physician’s portal, Kellysays. He leads me down a long hallway and sees that I am comfortably seated ona chair.
“My office is just a few doors away. Thank you for being such agood sport about this, Hester. I’ll buy you an extra scone.”
I hold up two fingers.
“All right, make that two extra scones.”
Kelly gives a good-humored snort and leaves.
Shrugging off my cloak, I hide my drawstring reticule in thegarment’s inner pocket. Kelly is inside his office, talking to another doctorabout a recently discovered body. Female. Believed to be a suicide.
His voice isn’t the only one I hear. The hospital is a loudplace, conversations booming everywhere, but I tune them out. One person, however,cannot be ignored. The words are muffled, like they’re traveling through deepwater to get to me—nearly unintelligible, but so persistent. I stand and swingmy cane out ahead of my feet, moving toward the sound. I detect a strongspoiled-joint-of-beef odor.
Turning right, I run my hand along the wall and find a wide,wooden door. I twist the knob and push the door inward with my knee. The spoiledmeat smell is far more potent in this room than it was in the hallway. Thewhispering is still muted but more emphatic than before.
Why can’t I understand the words when I’m this close?
It’s all right, I say with telepathy. I’m here.You’re not alone anymore.
As I follow the voice, I bump into an obstruction. My kidgloves are lined with fur and are a barrier to skin on skin contact. I lean mycane against the wall, remove the gloves and stuff them into my coat pocket. Nervesmake my mouth dry. I lick my lips, but they feel sticky afterwards. Go on, Hester.A ghost can’t hurt you.
I reach forward and touch the obstruction. Spacious, flatsurface. Cool metal. An exam table? It’s covered with a cloth. I pull the clothaway and hear it fall to the floor with a swish. The body on the table nolonger whispers but chants inside my head. Other cadavers may presently bestored in this room, but this is the only one calling to me. I concentrate onthe words and realize the ghost is a female.
Afraid-lost-help-me-help-me-forgive-please-forgive-help-me-lost-lost-lost…
She’s wrapped in toweling. I walk along side the body, fingers searchingfor a gap in the fabric, until I come upon a human thumb sticking out fromunder it. I push the toweling away and grasp the entire hand. It almost flopsout of my grip, long past rigor mortis. My skull tightens and my bodytrembles. Eyes hot and wet, I cannot ignore
