A Death-Struck Year (12 page)

Not wanting to disturb Edmund’s concentration, but too anxious to stay silent any longer, I asked, “What happened?”

Edmund set the spoon in the bowl with a small clatter. “He woke up earlier complaining of an earache. It’s common enough with flu, but with Spanish flu it’s worse. He has otitis media.”

I frowned. “Is that Latin?”

Edmund kept his gaze fixed on the child’s ear. “Hmm? Sorry, yes. He has a bulging eardrum,” he clarified. “His drum membrane is about to rupture.” He selected a needle from the tray.

Uneasy, I looked from the needle to William’s vulnerable, exposed ear, guessing Edmund’s intent but unwilling to believe it. My voice was faint. “What are you going to do?”

“I need to remove the extra fluid. It’ll relieve some of the pressure. Hold him still, Cleo.” And then in a move that nearly stopped my heart, he inserted the needle, thin and wicked-looking, directly into William’s ear canal.

There were several ways to control one’s urge to vomit. In just the last day, I had learned this. Breathing through your mouth was one. The other was to concentrate on a single thing with all your might. To focus so entirely that everything else receded into the background. For this gruesome occasion, I chose William’s mother.

Someone had washed her hair. It lay pleated in two braids over her shoulders, ending around her elbows. She lay on her back. With a start, I realized she was awake. We were in the center of the room, and the chandelier hung directly above us. Tess Cooke stared at the crystals glinting in the light, blinking in wonder, like an infant in a cradle.

She must have felt my stare, because she turned her head with such painful slowness that my head throbbed in sympathy. Her eyes were light blue, shot through with tiny red veins. She might have been pretty once. It was impossible to tell.

Where was Mr. Cooke? All we knew was that the railroad company he worked for had been notified. That didn’t tell us anything. It could be days, weeks even, before he was tracked down by telephone. I hoped he’d return soon. His wife didn’t look well at all. I was glad that she couldn’t see past Edmund to her son, who lay unmoving with a needle in his ear. I smiled at her, the only comfort I could offer, and watched her eyes close.

Edmund continued to work away. Curious despite myself, I glanced down. He’d replaced the needle with a small suction instrument, which was just now removing a thick, reddish-yellow substance. My stomach rolled, though this time I was unable to look away. It was both fascinating and revolting to watch. William whimpered.

“Nearly done, William,” I whispered. “What a brave boy you are. We’re nearly done.”

Mrs. Clement approached with Abigail. She stopped when she saw what Edmund was up to, turned on her heel, and marched off in the opposite direction, a protective hand cupping Abby’s head.

My curiosity shifted from bulging eardrums to Edmund Parrish. He looked perfectly calm and capable. But I knew he couldn’t have had very much medical school training. Not with being shipped off to war. Or recovering from his injuries.

“How many of these have you done?” I asked.

Still working away at William’s ear, Edmund asked, “Ever?”

“Yes.”

“This is my second.”

“What?” My hold on William tightened.

“Dr. McAbee showed me how to do the first one,” he said, and I could tell he was fighting a smile. “You just prick and scoop. Don’t worry. I won’t let anything happen to your buddy here.” He glanced over in Mrs. Jones’s direction. “Busy morning?”

And I remembered, suddenly, why I’d sought him out. “Yes.” I added, “I took Kate with me. Just like you wanted.”

He paused, the suction instrument hovering over William’s ear. “You don’t sound happy about it. What’s wrong with Kate?”

“There’s nothing wrong with her,” I said, exasperated. “And you know it. Hannah couldn’t spare her. You shouldn’t have said anything.”

He didn’t bother to deny it. “Hannah’s responsible for everyone under her care,” he said evenly. “That includes you.”

“I could have gone on my own. I’m not a simpleton, Edmund.”

His green eyes narrowed. “No. But you’re a pretty girl, knocking on doors, in all kinds of neighborhoods. All alone. What happens if you knock on the wrong one?”

I opened my mouth, closed it. Grisly scenarios danced around in my imagination. “That’s hardly cheery,” I finally said.

He shrugged. “It wasn’t meant to be. And you can go ahead and be mad. I’d do it again.”

Edmund went back to work, looking stubborn and unrepentant. I scowled at the top of his head. But as I saw firsthand how gentle he was with William, my annoyance began to fade. After several minutes, I couldn’t take his silence any longer.

“I’m not mad,” I said grudgingly.

“Good.” He dropped the instrument into the bowl. Taping a thick bandage over the boy’s ear, he said, “Let’s turn him over. It’ll drain anything I’ve missed, and I can have a look at his other ear.”

We shifted William. I held him still while Edmund began the process all over again.

“Have you always wanted to be a doctor?” I asked, watching him remove the needle from William’s ear.

“Since I was ten.”

There was the oddest inflection to his voice. I heard it, and I told myself that I should practice what I preach and stick to my own business.

“Why?” I asked.

Edmund exchanged the needle for the suction instrument. “My mother died of tuberculosis when I was ten.” His gaze flicked to mine, then dropped. “I want to know why.”

The words
I’m sorry
lingered on the tip of my tongue. But I knew what it was to be young and to lose your mother. And I couldn’t remember the number of times I’d been told
I’m sorry.
Or told my loss was part of
God’s will
or
God’s plan.
Well-intentioned words, every one of them. But they’d never made me feel better. Not one single bit.

“What did you want to be before you were ten?” I asked.

Edmund looked surprised. His eyes crinkled at the corners. “A judge, I guess. Like my father. And a cowboy. I’d forgotten.” He cleaned off the instrument with a fresh square of gauze, then asked, “What about you?”

I had not meant to say it, but it came out anyway. “I haven’t the slightest idea.”

He looked amused. “I wouldn’t worry about it. You’re only eighteen . . . nearly. Sometimes you need to go out in the world and live a little first.”

I stared at him, hearing the echo of my brother’s voice.

Edmund attached a bandage to William’s other ear before glancing up. “What is it?”

I was saved from answering by William, who woke and started to cry. His wails frightened a nearby baby, who began howling. The wailing set off a vicious cycle; before long, the room had erupted in an earsplitting cacophony of weeping children. Edmund and I exchanged a panicked glance. He fussed over William while I hurried across the way toward another toddler. Mrs. Howard exclaimed,
“Lord, what now!”
I scooped up a little girl. And after that, there wasn’t any time left over to think.

Monday, October 14, 1918

“I’m sorry, Lucy.”

“We do not set these rules in place to torture you, darling.” My sister-in-law’s voice was faint and tinny-sounding over the telephone line. “They are for your own good. When I give you specific instructions, I do not expect to be ignored. Is that clear?”

“Yes, ma’am,” I said, subdued. Pushing the tangled mess of hair from my face, I looked around the upstairs hall. A tiny yellow bird emerged from the wall clock and sung a gentle morning cuckoo. I counted six chirps and stifled a groan. Six o’clock in the morning. Lucy had always been an early riser.

Lucy continued. “Well, what’s done is done. Jackson says you have provisions, and I’m sure Mrs. Foster will order more when she returns. But other than deliveries, not a soul enters that house. Is that understood?”

“Yes.” I paused. “Are you well? The baby . . . ?”

Lucy’s voice softened. “You sound like your brother. This feels different, Cleo, and—”

The telephone operator interrupted. “At this time, we are permitting emergency calls only.” Her tone was firm. “It has been determined that this conversation does not meet our emergency standards.”

“I beg your pardon?” Lucy said.

At the same time, I said, “Wait!”

The operator ended the call. I tried to reconnect, but the line remained silent. I looked at the telephone, wide awake now and infuriated. I did not have the chance to tell Lucy how happy I was about the baby. I did not even have time to say goodbye.

I was in the ticket lobby, waiting for Kate, when I felt it: a faint rumbling beneath my feet, growing stronger and stronger with each passing second. Others in the room felt it too. It was eight in the morning. A handful of people were already gathered in the waiting area, hoping to learn how well, or how badly, their loved ones had fared overnight.

Hannah was conversing quietly with an older couple who looked as though they hadn’t slept in a week. She stopped and glanced over at me. “What on earth is that?” she asked.

I lifted both hands, just as lost. Hannah said something to the couple, before heading for the outer doors with me close on her heels. Standing at the top of the steps, we peered down Third Street.

At first we saw nothing but a wet sidewalk and an overcast sky. Then a large truck appeared around the corner, followed by a second one, and a third, fourth, and fifth. Five trucks in all pulled to a stop, taking up the entire length of the Auditorium. Painted along the sides in bold black letters were the words
U.S. ARMY
.

Soldiers spilled out of the trucks like worker ants, unloading crates and disassembled cots onto the sidewalk. Hannah looked astonished. They had clearly not been expected.

A familiar figure jumped from the back of the first truck. “Hannah, look,” I said.

Hannah followed my line of sight. A rueful smile appeared. “I might have known,” she said, as Edmund strode toward us, along with another soldier.

It gave me a jolt to see him dressed as he was, in olive drabs, with a smart cap and brown boots that laced clear up to his knees. What was it about a military uniform, I wondered, that had girls making cow eyes even at the homely boys and turned someone who already looked like Edmund into . . . I fumbled for my mask before realizing I’d left it in the car. I could have used a mask right now. I was sure everything I thought and felt was written plain on my face.

We met them halfway down the staircase. At the last moment, my boot came down on a slick step. Edmund’s hand shot out. He grabbed my elbow, steadying me. Without acknowledging my clumsiness or even saying hello, he pulled me close enough so that our arms touched before dropping his hand. He looked unruffled, as though being pressed against his side was the most natural place for me to be.

Hannah’s eyebrows arched upward. I stared straight ahead, painfully self-conscious, but she let the moment pass without comment. “All this,” she said to Edmund, “because old ladies like you?”

Edmund grinned, turning toward the soldier who’d accompanied him. I eyed the blond stranger, wary. Edmund was tall. This man was taller. And fearsome-looking, with wide, powerful shoulders, a hawk nose, and stern features. He looked like he could take on the entire German army on his own.

“Hannah, this is Sergeant Simon LaBouef with the Army Spruce Division,” Edmund said. “Sergeant, this is Mrs. Hannah Flynn. She’s in charge of all Red Cross operations here at the Auditorium. And Miss Cleo Berry, also with the Red Cross.”

Sergeant LaBouef stepped forward. After a brief nod to me, he said, “Mrs. Flynn, General Disque wishes to convey his deep regret that he was unable to meet with you in person.” He gestured toward the trucks. “Everything you requested is here. Beds, as well as bandages, masks, pneumonia jackets, codeine—”

“Morphine?” Hannah asked.

“Yes, ma’am. Lieutenant Parrish says you’re short on staff?”

“Very.”

The sergeant glanced behind him. “Twenty men will stay, myself included. With your permission, we’ll set up barracks here for as long as necessary. You can put us to work as you see fit.”

Hannah pressed a hand to her cheek, looking slightly overwhelmed. “Thank you, Sergeant. I assure you I will. This is very unexpected.”

“The general was unaware of your identity when you telephoned, ma’am,” he said. “Lieutenant Parrish was kind enough to clear up the confusion.” Sergeant LaBouef clasped both hands behind his back, his demeanor growing even more formal. “I had the honor of knowing Captain Flynn personally. Your husband was a brave man and an excellent soldier. You have my assurance that any request you have will be addressed immediately. The United States Army is deeply sorry for your loss.”

I watched Hannah as the sergeant spoke. And saw, then, the grief that flashed across her face before vanishing.

“Thank you, Sergeant. Edmund,” Hannah said. She drew herself up. “Now, where should we put your men? I think the stage would be best. It’s not ideal, but it’s where we have room. You’ll have some privacy, at least, with the curtains drawn. And we can move some of these cots to the second floor.”

Hannah and the sergeant wandered off discussing logistics, while soldiers hustled up the steps carrying crates and beds. People poured out of the Auditorium to see what the fuss was about. Kate spotted me and headed my way. She stopped when she saw Edmund, smiled, and walked in the opposite direction. I stepped away hastily so that a decent amount of space lay between us.

“When did he die?” I asked, watching Hannah inspect one of the crates.

“Captain Flynn? In the spring,” Edmund answered. “He came down with influenza in France. It turned into pneumonia.”

Captain Flynn had died of influenza. And now Hannah was working herself into exhaustion, trying to save every flu patient in her care. It made a terrible, wretched sort of sense.

“Do they have children?” I asked.

He nodded. “A boy. Matthew is seven. I think he’s staying with his grandmother until this is all over.” He tipped his head toward the last truck, which the soldiers had not yet unloaded. “Give me a hand?” he asked.