The Endless Forest
Page 181
“What—”
Ben pinned her by the wrist held over her head, and he kissed her. He was good at it too, and always had been. Even when she was disinclined or distracted, Ben could bring her back into the here and now like this. He kissed her so expertly that she felt the tug of it in her womb.
When he pulled away she said, “How good to see you too,” and he laughed and kissed her once more, this time running his hand up her leg to cradle her buttock.
“Ben!”
“Hmmm?”
“Anybody could come around that corner.”
“I don’t mind an audience.”
She put her free palm on his chin and made him look her in the eye.
“You wouldn’t mind Baldy O’Brien grading your performance?”
He went very still, and then he pulled away. “There’s the school-house,” he said, wiggling one eyebrow.
Hannah closed her eyes briefly. “I know I’ve been neglecting you—”
“Hush. I’m as much at fault as you are.”
It was true that they went to bed exhausted and fell asleep before they could even think about the things they were missing, but that was the price of bringing children into the world. The irony was, the thing they both wanted to do here, in broad daylight, would give them release, but the possible result nine months down the road would only compound the problem.
Hannah counted the days in her head as Ben did his best to win her over to his way of seeing things, and when she had calculated as best she could, she pulled away again.
“Here’s what we can do,” she said. “Tomorrow morning we can leave the house at first light. I’ll make noises about going to see the patient upstairs—” She gestured with her chin to the upper floor of the Red Dog. “And we’ll meet at the pond.”
Oh, when he smiled like that. She’d be thinking about it all day.
Alice said, “That was more than ten minutes.”
“Was it?” Hannah would not let Alice get the best of her, and so she only smiled. “If you’ll take me to the patient—”
Huffing like a newborn with colic, Alice led Hannah through the empty public room and up the stairs. In Paradise folks took the Fourth of July seriously and nobody wanted to miss any part of it, not even the men who spent every free hour cradling a tankard of Becca’s ale. And still Hannah had the strong sense that something was not as it seemed.
She touched the sheath that held her knife, and the gesture both calmed her and made her laugh at herself. Alice LeBlanc might be mean-spirited, but she wasn’t homicidal; and more than that, Hannah would only have to shout out the window to get someone’s attention.
In the hall Alice opened the door and stood aside for Hannah to enter, a simple act that stopped her cold. The Alice LeBlanc she knew would never let Hannah precede her through a door; she had too high an opinion of her own worth.
Alice frowned at her. “What?”
“If you do not tell me exactly who is in that room, I will turn around and leave,” Hannah said.
“It’s all right,” a voice called. “Alice, it’s all right. Hannah, come in, and shut the door behind yourself.”
Jemima.
Alice was smiling now, a superior and self-satisfied smile that said she was enjoying having got the best of Hannah Savard. Hannah waited until Alice had taken her smirk down the stairs, and then she went in and closed the door.
A sickroom has a smell all its own, and Hannah had entered enough of them to get a sense of what was waiting for her on that basis alone. Here there was bile and vomit and strongest of all, the oily stench of unhealthy stool. There was something wrong here, something far worse than indigestion.
Jemima was sitting in a large upholstered chair by the window. The curtains were drawn and the air in the room was close and hot and heavy. Hannah went to the windows and pushed back the curtains to let in light. Then she opened both sashes as far as they would go.
“I don’t like the breeze,” Jemima said.
“And yet you need fresh air.” She drew in a deep breath and turned to face Jemima. “When did you get here?”
There were new lines in Jemima’s face, brackets around her mouth that spoke of pain, along with streaks of iron gray in her hair. And there was a struggle going on too; Hannah could see it happening in her eyes. Jemima didn’t like this situation, but she was forcing herself forward.
“Last night just before dark.”
“Alone?”
“Alone,” Jemima said.
“You came masked, in a costume?”
Jemima’s mouth jerked at the corner. “I was wearing a veiled hat, if you must know the details.”
“I find it hard to believe you traveled, as sick as you are, and by yourself.”
“It wasn’t so bad yesterday,” Jemima said. “Came on a little after I got here.”
“Your husband—”
“My husband is none of your concern. I have money, and I can pay you for your services. What I need, first of all, is laudanum. And then a diagnosis.”
The anger that Hannah had been holding at bay kicked up, but she pushed it back down. “I am not interested in your money and I think you’d be better served by another doctor.”
Jemima said, “I’ve seen eight doctors in the last six weeks, and none of them would or could tell me what’s wrong with me.”
That made Hannah laugh aloud. “And so you came to me? To me? You never had any opinion of me or my skills as a doctor. You accused me of killing children out of incompetence.”
Ben pinned her by the wrist held over her head, and he kissed her. He was good at it too, and always had been. Even when she was disinclined or distracted, Ben could bring her back into the here and now like this. He kissed her so expertly that she felt the tug of it in her womb.
When he pulled away she said, “How good to see you too,” and he laughed and kissed her once more, this time running his hand up her leg to cradle her buttock.
“Ben!”
“Hmmm?”
“Anybody could come around that corner.”
“I don’t mind an audience.”
She put her free palm on his chin and made him look her in the eye.
“You wouldn’t mind Baldy O’Brien grading your performance?”
He went very still, and then he pulled away. “There’s the school-house,” he said, wiggling one eyebrow.
Hannah closed her eyes briefly. “I know I’ve been neglecting you—”
“Hush. I’m as much at fault as you are.”
It was true that they went to bed exhausted and fell asleep before they could even think about the things they were missing, but that was the price of bringing children into the world. The irony was, the thing they both wanted to do here, in broad daylight, would give them release, but the possible result nine months down the road would only compound the problem.
Hannah counted the days in her head as Ben did his best to win her over to his way of seeing things, and when she had calculated as best she could, she pulled away again.
“Here’s what we can do,” she said. “Tomorrow morning we can leave the house at first light. I’ll make noises about going to see the patient upstairs—” She gestured with her chin to the upper floor of the Red Dog. “And we’ll meet at the pond.”
Oh, when he smiled like that. She’d be thinking about it all day.
Alice said, “That was more than ten minutes.”
“Was it?” Hannah would not let Alice get the best of her, and so she only smiled. “If you’ll take me to the patient—”
Huffing like a newborn with colic, Alice led Hannah through the empty public room and up the stairs. In Paradise folks took the Fourth of July seriously and nobody wanted to miss any part of it, not even the men who spent every free hour cradling a tankard of Becca’s ale. And still Hannah had the strong sense that something was not as it seemed.
She touched the sheath that held her knife, and the gesture both calmed her and made her laugh at herself. Alice LeBlanc might be mean-spirited, but she wasn’t homicidal; and more than that, Hannah would only have to shout out the window to get someone’s attention.
In the hall Alice opened the door and stood aside for Hannah to enter, a simple act that stopped her cold. The Alice LeBlanc she knew would never let Hannah precede her through a door; she had too high an opinion of her own worth.
Alice frowned at her. “What?”
“If you do not tell me exactly who is in that room, I will turn around and leave,” Hannah said.
“It’s all right,” a voice called. “Alice, it’s all right. Hannah, come in, and shut the door behind yourself.”
Jemima.
Alice was smiling now, a superior and self-satisfied smile that said she was enjoying having got the best of Hannah Savard. Hannah waited until Alice had taken her smirk down the stairs, and then she went in and closed the door.
A sickroom has a smell all its own, and Hannah had entered enough of them to get a sense of what was waiting for her on that basis alone. Here there was bile and vomit and strongest of all, the oily stench of unhealthy stool. There was something wrong here, something far worse than indigestion.
Jemima was sitting in a large upholstered chair by the window. The curtains were drawn and the air in the room was close and hot and heavy. Hannah went to the windows and pushed back the curtains to let in light. Then she opened both sashes as far as they would go.
“I don’t like the breeze,” Jemima said.
“And yet you need fresh air.” She drew in a deep breath and turned to face Jemima. “When did you get here?”
There were new lines in Jemima’s face, brackets around her mouth that spoke of pain, along with streaks of iron gray in her hair. And there was a struggle going on too; Hannah could see it happening in her eyes. Jemima didn’t like this situation, but she was forcing herself forward.
“Last night just before dark.”
“Alone?”
“Alone,” Jemima said.
“You came masked, in a costume?”
Jemima’s mouth jerked at the corner. “I was wearing a veiled hat, if you must know the details.”
“I find it hard to believe you traveled, as sick as you are, and by yourself.”
“It wasn’t so bad yesterday,” Jemima said. “Came on a little after I got here.”
“Your husband—”
“My husband is none of your concern. I have money, and I can pay you for your services. What I need, first of all, is laudanum. And then a diagnosis.”
The anger that Hannah had been holding at bay kicked up, but she pushed it back down. “I am not interested in your money and I think you’d be better served by another doctor.”
Jemima said, “I’ve seen eight doctors in the last six weeks, and none of them would or could tell me what’s wrong with me.”
That made Hannah laugh aloud. “And so you came to me? To me? You never had any opinion of me or my skills as a doctor. You accused me of killing children out of incompetence.”
