TheBook was damning for Ironwood as well as Faust. There’s talk of closing it downand relocating the inmates to other hospitals. Once the doctor’s trial is overand the sentencing done, of course. A month after his own commitment, Faust isstripped of his medical license and living in the same conditions that hispatients endured. The spirits of his victims have found peace at last.
Bully for them, though I can’t say the same.
Davis is buried in a little cemetery near his family’s farm. Itplagues my thoughts, imagining the grief his loved ones must feel and knowing I’mthe cause. Now two men have died on my account—one temporarily, the other alltoo permanent.
Lying on my stomach, on a hospital bed, I swim through another waveof pain. My back is completely bare down to the top of my hips, and Kelly iscleaning the lacerations again. It is a painstaking process that we’ve repeatedmany times due to infection from the traces of cloth and other foreign matterwithin the wounds. Damn, he hit an especially raw spot there. Stings like the blazes.Although I’m given plenty of drugs in this place, enough to keep my dependencya secret, it doesn’t eliminate the pain of this procedure.
My head is turned to the side, resting on a pillow. “Allright?” Kelly asks.
I pay no attention to his question. Instead, I grit my teethand focus on something else, like spelling the name Jupiter. J-U-P-I-T-E-R.Jupiter. Next it’s Pluto. P-L-U—
“You know how to sign, Hester. Do it. I want to know whatyou’re feeling.”
But I don’t, even when he scrapes another sore place.
“Once your injuries heal a bit, we’ll think about returning toStonehenge, but I don’t want to risk it until then.”
I’ve asked Kelly to go home so many times. His daughter Aliceis in Stonehenge now. She’s been at a boarding school in Boston since lastfall. At only eight, the child must be missing her father. But Kelly won’tleave me, no matter what I tell him. He rebuts my arguments with “I have itunder control, Hester.” Or “Alice is in good hands. Don’t worry.”
His stubbornness drives me to distraction. He’s worse than Iam.
Kelly pours on the antiseptics, packs the gashes withpoultices, and lathers me with salve. After all that, I am shaking like a willowin a high wind. He sits down, takes my hand, and squeezes it. No visions at histouch. No visions at all for weeks. My soul seems to be empty but for theself-loathing and depression.
The doctor remains there until I fall asleep. I do not know ifhe goes somewhere else while I am under, but his hand still holds mine when Iawake.
After two months in hospital, we are scheduled to leave onthe train today. Kelly has bought a dress for me, which he describes as indigo.Made with yards of soft wool, it fits better than the bespoke gowns my motheronce ordered. Then there are the under things, not a single garment missing,and the comfortable boots and gloves, the long, fitted traveling coat andreticule. Our Kelly has a very good eye for the shape of a woman’s figure.
And I have a new pair of spectacles. Black lenses again.
We are due at the station in minutes, and my husband isin a great hurry. I hope he doesn’t notice the slight clicking sound in mycase. I just helped myself to a pharmaceutical cabinet, taking as manycontainers of escape-in-a-bottle as would fit in the little valise. I found theright shelf, the correct medicine. An errant nurse took the same stuff outbefore leaving the little door open to crooks like me. Eight was the limit,plus a few needles.
Really, Hester, couldn’t you have managed nine? It’s unlikely you’llhave this opportunity again.
Kelly takes my arm, and we leave the hospital, making a cleanget-away without the doctor even knowing we’re on the lam. The train chugs outof the station a few minutes after we take our seats. He’s given me the one by thewindow although the view is lost on my eyes. A gentleman out of habit.
“How’s your back, Hester? Would you like to rest? Use myshoulder as a pillow, if you do.”
It hurts when I move, or breathe, or remain stationary, or tryto sleep. I do not mention this to Kelly. Instead, I turn toward the glasspane, realizing that this action is a great conversation-ender. One can face awindow resolutely and conclude all communication with a traveling companion.Dulling my ears to sound, I lose myself in the gentle motion of the locomotiveand awaken sometime later, plastered against Kelly. How mortifying. I hope Ididn’t salivate or snore.
“Feel better?” he asks. “We’ll arrive in Stonehenge by teatime.”
Nodding, I again pivot toward the window. This time the doctordoes not take the hint. “A shrug and a nod both in one day. I am a luckyfellow. Why don’t you sign instead, Mrs. Kelly?”
My fingers fly into action before I can stop them. Not yourreal wife.
The doctor laughs. “Legally, you are. The annulment hasn’thappened yet.”
Our awkward marital state is amusing to Kelly but not to me.Tuning him out, I listen to the train sounds again until we reach Stonehenge.I’m not really upset with the doctor. He has become my closest friend, and I amgrateful for all he’s done for me. But it is hard to be pleasant when I feel sowretched, when life seems like such a burden. Every bit of food, everykindness, every pleasant word is a condemnation. Surviving one’s survival canbe difficult.
Once we arrive in Stonehenge, Kelly leads me to the railroadplatform. Exiting the station, we take High Street and turn west. The day issunny and fairly warm, smelling of damp sidewalks, horses, and manure. As if oncue, I recognize the tread of the person walking toward us. Heart, mind, andsoul cease to work properly. My first love is using the same sidewalk as Kellyand me.
And Tom’s been drinking—a great deal too, by the smell of him.“Look here,” he says, slurring his words. “The girl of my dreams, the one whoruined me for all others.” He moves closer, blocking my way. “Didn’t take youlong to
