“What?” he asks. “I could get fired for helping you do that.”
I erase the words and write a quickly formulated excuse. MUSTPAY HOMAGE TO HER. RELIGIOUS CUSTOM AMONG FEMALES.
“Never guessed you for a churchgoer.”
Davis mutters for a while before telling me what I wish toknow. “She’s laid out in an examination room nearby. They’re taking her to thefuneral home tomorrow.”
He is obviously giving me the once-over, so I try my hardest tolook pious, like an Ironwood Joan of Arc. Perhaps he has noticed his womenfolkvisiting dead acquaintances in the past, and this small coincidence givesenough validity to my request for him to consider granting it. Regardless ofhis reasoning, Davis finally relents.
“They’ll hold a trial in a month or so, but it’s always a sham.Poor Lazarus is as good as hanged.” Davis pauses briefly, and I hold my breath,hoping he hasn’t changed his mind. “I’ll come to the Unresponsive Ward atmidnight to get you, but your religious thing for Miss Hotchkiss better bequick.”
He walks up the stairs, empty dinner pail rattling. “This goesto prove that you’re trouble in any ward you’re transferred to, catatonicneighbors or not.”
I rather enjoy this quip—Davis delivers it with such wrywarmth.
Thank you, I sign. Thank you. Thank you.
“Right,” he replies. “That’s what you always say.”
Davis closes the lid quickly, once I indicate that I must usethe chamber bucket. I accomplish the repugnant task, slip my writing tools intomy boot, and remove Mama’s jewelry from the hiding place in the table, stowingit again in the secret pocket of my drawers.
My friend then opens the lid again and escorts me to thelaundry room where Anna is slaving away. I go to work beside her, but thereisn’t an opportunity to learn more about Margaret Hotchkiss until we stop atnoon to eat. We sit at our table in the corner of the dining hall, and I takethe envelope and pencil from my boot and write.
A NURSE WAS KILLED?
Anna reads my message, erases it. I cringe when the preciouspaper tears. “I liked her,” she says. “Margaret was a nice girl.”
She scoots a bit closer. “Lazarus was found dragging the bodydown the hall. Her limbs had locked up.”
Rigor mortis? She’d been dead for a while then.
The old woman seems puzzled by the crime. “I could imagineLazarus killing somebody. Just not Margaret.”
WHY? I write.
“Because he was sweet on her. She had him wrapped around herfinger without even trying. Must have been one of them crimes of passion.”
Regardless of what others think, I know he didn’t do it. I mustwork fast though and gather what information I can to pardon him. If not, then Davisis correct. Gabriel is good as hanged.
Isabelle has hauled wood for hours by the time Anna and Ijoin her. The mother-to-be drops the kindling once we arrive and reveals thatshe’s in labor. “Can’t have him now,” Isabelle moans. “Too early.”
Anna laughs at this. “Early or not, the baby thinks he’s righton time. Take that other arm, Hester, and we’ll get her to the doctor.”
Isabelle pulls away. “Won’t you do it, Anna?”
“Be sensible, child. I’ve delivered calves, foals, and a womanor two, but I’m no midwife.”
“I don’t care. I want you. The nurses will just take the babyfrom me.”
“Not for a few weeks, Izzie. You’ll have him until he goes tothe orphanage. You’ve seen it happen a dozen times.”
“It’s different when the child’s yours.”
The old woman grinds her teeth. “Even if you keep him, youcan’t leave until Faust is repaid—for your room and board over the last fewmonths. And with you earning pennies a day, it’ll take years to work off thatsum. Add a baby and interest to your balance—it’s doubled again.”
We begin walking toward the asylum, and Isabelle starts toweep.
“Do you really want him raised here?” Anna asks. “An orphanageis the lesser of two evils.”
The entire situation sickens me. I cannot allow this to happento Isabelle and her baby. And what good is having a diamond ring in yourdrawers if you don’t use it? I pull out the pencil and paper and scribble aquestion.
HOW MUCH?
“To pay Isabelle’s rent?” Anna asks. “They charged the lastgirl thirty dollars. Took four years ’til she was free of Faust. I’d count onthirty at least.”
I write as quickly as I can, and Anna reads my message aloud.“Will sell the diamonds. More than enough.”
The laboring mother bursts into tears again. “Oh, Hester…”
“It just might work,” Anna says. “My people in Denver couldsponsor Isabelle so Faust can’t keep her here on the grounds of futurevagrancy. You could stay with them, child, until you get back on your feet.”She steps lively after this, and Isabelle and I make an effort to keep up.“Come on. We’ll go in the west entrance. There’s a room there, behind thelaundry. It’s small, but I reckon we’ll have enough hot water for washing and cleanlinen.”
Davis opens the asylum door. He must have guessed ourpredicament in a glance because he obeys Anna’s orders withoutquestion—checking the hallway is clear, raiding the drying racks for a fewclean quilts, and keeping watch outside the improvised birthing chamber.
Isabelle stretches out on the bed we throw together, and Ikneel nearby, holding her sweaty hand in mine. Blood-scented air flows over usas Anna checks her progress and gasps.
“Don’t know why I’m even here, Izzie. You’ve done most of thework already. This baby’s ready to come out.”
As a new life is pushed into the world, I have a vision of adark-haired baby perched on my lap. We sit on a rocker in the garden of a brickrow house. “I love you, Ollie,” I whisper, smiling at the little one.
“It’s a girl!” Anna exclaims, tearing my attention away fromthe vision and grounding me to earth.
Anna wraps the baby up and hands her to Isabelle. Soft infantbreathing and a tiny hiccup. Isabelle counts ten fingers and ten toes. Wipingmy wet eyes, I feel almost new again. To think mere diamonds are valued abovethis.
“What’ll you call her, sweetheart?” Anna asks.
Isabelle sniffles a bit. “My mother’s name is—”
Olive.
Our euphoria over Ollie’s birth is nearly ruined by HershelWatts.
