A Free Heart (12 page)

Harriet nodded. “Anything else I should know?”

“Mr. Brody will be in regularly to help with Tom’s personal needs. Beyond that, just be here.” Miss Hampton stood and rested her hand on Harriet’s shoulder. “Don’t overtax yourself. I know you care about Tom, but you can help him best by making sure you’re strong and healthy.”

“I’ll try.”

As Miss Hampton left the room, Harriet moved over to the window and opened it a crack, then took up her post in the chair beside the bed. Tom didn’t look quite so gray, but he was far from himself.

At first, Harriet didn’t say anything, but as the night wore on, she found that she had several things on her chest, and to sit there, so close to Tom but unable to converse with him, was driving her mad. Finally, she decided she needed to speak.

“Tom, I was wrong,” she said, reaching out and taking his hand. “I’ve been thinking about everything you said on the train about social class and what it really means to be free, to live your life without caring about what others think of you . . . and I’m sorry. I’ve said that to you several times already, but I need to say it again, more sincerely this time. I don’t know what comes over me, but I do act superior when someone annoys me, and I promise I’ll try to overcome that fault. I think I learned it from my mother. Not that it excuses my behavior, because it doesn’t.” She chuckled without mirth.

“I suppose I grew up believing I was better than others, and I never questioned it. Thank you for making me questioning it. Thank you for opening my eyes. A person’s worth has nothing to do with their social status or their education or what they do for work. Gracious, I’m a cook and a maid and a waitress—my mother would have some sort of fit if she saw me right now. And you—you’re worth more than I ever imagined, and you’re certainly a much better person than I am. So I hope you can forgive me, and I hope you know that I’m going to try my best to remember what you’ve taught me.”

He hadn’t moved at all. His eyelids hadn’t even twitched. She sighed and leaned back in her chair. “Rest well, and perhaps when you wake up, I’ll find the courage to say all that again.”

* * *

Pain. Waves and waves of pain. Shooting up his leg into his hip. Down into his toes. Searing him like boiling water. Tom moved his head from side to side, then tried to sit up to get away from whatever was burning him. He felt a soft hand on his forehead.

“Shh. It’s all right, but you need to lie still.”

He knew that voice, but he couldn’t put a name to it. “Why? Why can’t I move?” he mumbled.

“You have a broken leg. You can’t jostle it.”

He licked his lips. “So thirsty.”

He heard water being poured into a glass, and then felt a hand slide under his neck. “Here. Drink this.” The rim of the cup was pressed to his lips, and he drank several swallows. Then the cup was taken away, and the hand was removed. He missed it.

“Harriet?” he said after a long moment. Why wouldn’t his eyes open? The lids felt as heavy as horseshoes. “Is that you?”

“You guessed right,” she said, sounding amused. “For a minute, I wondered if you were going to call me Beulah May.”

“Oh, come on,” he said, trying again to open his eyes. “I only did that once.”

“Good. You remember. The doctor said you might be disoriented when you woke up.”

This time, his eyes opened, and he looked around. He was in one of the hotel’s rooms, and Harriet sat on a chair next to the bed. A glance down told him that his leg had been badly injured, but how . . . The pain was too much. He couldn’t think. “I think I am disoriented,” he said. “I don’t remember what happened.”

“You were working on the last bit of roof, and I came out to call you for dinner,” Harriet said.

“I think I remember that part.” Tom passed a hand over his eyes, which still felt like sand. “Then what?”“As near as we can tell, you stepped on a particularly rotten spot, lost your balance, and fell. You landed on your leg, and the bone shattered. The doctor was going to amputate, but he’s trying a different procedure first to see if the leg can be saved.”

“I remember talking about that now. Something to do with acid. Is that why my leg feels like it’s on fire?”

“Yes, and I’m sorry. I had no idea this was going to be so painful. It will help keep gangrene from developing, though. Do you remember the doctor explaining that to you?”

Tom nodded. “I guess there’s nothing left to do but wait it out. If it doesn’t get worse than this, I’ll be all right.”

“The doctor did leave some laudanum, if you need it,” Harriet said, motioning toward the table.

Tom shook his head without even needing to think it over. “Not unless it gets a lot worse. I knew a man who’d developed a craving for the stuff. That’s not how I want to live my life.”

“Well, let me know if you change your mind.”

Tom rolled his head on the pillow and looked at Harriet more closely. “You’re tired. What time is it?”

“Oh, I imagine it’s around four.”

“In the morning? Why aren’t you asleep?”She smiled. “Someone has to keep you from getting up to go finish that roof. Admit it—you hate holding still.”

“I hate it worse than almost anything. Did the doctor say how long I’d have to stay put?”

“Until that bone is completely healed.”

Tom groaned and passed his hand over his face again. “That addition to the hotel will never get built. I was going to have everything done by month’s end, and now . . .”

“And now you’re not to worry about it,” Adam said from the doorway. “It’s good to see you awake, Tom. How’s the pain?”

“I’m trying not to think about it, sir. I’d rather talk about the addition, if you don’t mind.”

Adam nodded as he stepped into the room. “I’m going to hire the work out, along with any other repairs that need to be done. I noticed that you drew some sketches of your plans, and I’ll make sure they’re followed.”

“Thank you. I’m sorry I can’t do it myself.”

“Well, I’m sorry you got hurt. You have no idea. But we’ll make it as right as we can.” Adam nodded to Harriet. “Miss Martin, it’s time for your break. Go get some rest, and I’ll sit with Tom the rest of the night.”

Harriet looked uncertain. “Are you sure? I can stay—”

Adam chuckled. “You’re barely keeping your eyes open. Go to bed, Miss Martin. And the other girls have said they’ll take care of the first train tomorrow—sleep as long as you can.”

“All right. Good night, Mr. Brody. Good night, Tom.”

Harriet slipped out of the room and closed the door behind her. Tom gave a low whistle. “She’s something else, isn’t she?”

“She is indeed. And do you realize she’s the reason you still have a leg right now?”

Tom tried to remember. “What happened?”

“She intervened on your behalf when the doctor said he’d have to amputate.”

“Whoa. Maybe I’ll have to kiss her again just to show my thanks.” Tom chuckled, but a spasm of pain shot through his body, so strong he thought he might vomit. Adam placed his hand on Tom’s shoulder until the pain had passed.

“You’re going to be all right, Tom,” Adam promised. “You’re going to be all right.”

Chapter Thirteen

Harriet stumbled to the ladies’ dormitory upstairs and fell onto her bed, not even bothering to undress. At some point, she felt her shoes being pulled off her feet and a blanket being thrown over her, but she couldn’t rouse herself enough to say thank you or even open her eyes to see who it was. The train whistle barely invaded her dreams, and the sun was midway across her window when she finally sat up, startled, wondering what time it was and how long she’d been asleep.

Footsteps sounded behind her, and she turned to see Jeanette coming up the stairs. “What time is it?” Harriet asked. “Why didn’t anyone wake me?”

“When Dr. Wayment came this morning, he said to make sure you slept as long as you could,” Jeanette explained. “You had a big shock—you saw Tom fall. He said you needed time to recover from that.”

Harriet nodded. “I believe he’s right. I must have relived it nearly fifty times by now. But you didn’t answer my question. What time is it?”

“It’s two in the afternoon. There’s some lunch waiting for you, when you’re ready.”

“Two?” Harriet was already scrambling for her shoes. She couldn’t believe she’d slept so long—she had responsibilities. “And what did Dr. Wayment say? How’s Tom?”

“He said Tom’s leg is doing well, and he’s very happy with how the bone is realigned. As long as Tom stays still, we should have a good outcome. Of course, we won’t really know for a while longer—the tissues need to knit, and we’ll be watching for gangrene.”

“You sound like a nurse,” Harriet teased her.

Jeanette’s cheeks turned pink. “I admit, I have been thinking about it ever since last night. The whole process was fascinating, and I want to know more about the body and how it works. Do you think I could be a nurse? Do I have the capacity?”

“I think you’d be a wonderful nurse. You’re caring and compassionate, and you’re certainly a hard worker. Why don’t you ask Dr. Wayment what he thinks? I’m sure he could tell you about training and all sorts of things.”

Jeanette seemed to consider it. “Thank you. I think I’ll do that.”

Harriet finished fastening her shoes and then shook her skirts back down. “Do I look at least somewhat presentable?”

“You’re presentable enough to go check on Tom, if that’s what you’re asking,” Jeanette said. “But I wouldn’t try to serve in the dining room that way—your dress is all wrinkled.”

“I’ll change before the next meal.” Harriet moved to walk past Jeanette, but then stopped and gave her a spontaneous hug. “Thank you for everything you’ve done for Tom,” she said.

“I thought you didn’t like Tom,” Jeanette needled her.

“I don’t. But thank you for helping him anyway.” Harriet spun on her heel and raced down the stairs to go check on the man she definitely did not like.

* * *

Tom was slightly propped up on a pillow when Harriet entered the room. Olivia sat next to him, reading a book, and she put it down with a look of relief on her face when she saw Harriet.

“He wants me to act out the characters’ voices,” she said. “The doctor gave him just a little bit of laudanum this morning, and he’s still acting like a drunkard.”

“He said he wouldn’t take it unless the pain was much worse,” Harriet said, concern rising in her chest. “Was it bad, then?”“I wasn’t in here at the time, so I don’t know, but I did hear that the doctor had to change out the gauze, and the acid is burning Tom’s skin.” Olivia shook her head. “I’ve never heard my father talk about anything like this. I’d say this is a very strong man.”

“I agree,” Harriet said, looking down at Tom. He grinned at her, lolling his head from side to side.

“Hey there, Harriet,” he said. “Miss Markham won’t do the voices.”

“She won’t? Why not?”

“Because she’s no fun. She’s no fun at all.” Tom flapped a hand in Olivia’s direction. “What fun is a book without the voices?”

Olivia thrust the book at Harriet. “Here. He’s all yours. Abigail says she’ll take over after dinner, and you’re not to worry about the next train.”

“Thank you,” Harriet said. “I really appreciate the way all of you have been filling in for me.”

“I’ll do whatever it takes to keep from having to read to him again,” Olivia said with a shudder. “I might even sign up for extra laundry.”

Harriet took the chair Olivia had just vacated. “How are you feeling, Tom?”

“I feel terrible. Just terrible.” He sounded cheerful about it, though, so Harriet was unsure whether to believe his words or his attitude. “And you look lovely today.”

She blinked. “I do?”

“Yes, you do. You should always wear your hair like that, with little wisps around your face.”

She reached up and felt her hair. “Oh, I’m a mess! This isn’t lovely, Tom—this is a disaster!”

“It’s a lovely disaster.” He grinned again.

She exhaled with impatience. “Are you sure the doctor only gave you a little bit of laudanum and you didn’t drink the whole thing?”

“He was very careful,” Tom replied, dragging out his R’s. “I told him. I said, ‘Doctor, my father was a drunk, and I don’t wanna be a drunk.’ So he gave me just a few little drops. And I’m in pain and I’d like to shoot my leg off, but somehow, I don’t care. Isn’t that the strangest thing you’ve ever heard?”

“That is strange.” Harriet would certainly hate to see Tom out-and-out drunk. Just this much was far too ridiculous. “Have you had anything to eat?”

“Olivia brought me up some broth, and Dr. Wayment said I could have some real food tomorrow if things look good.
You
look good, Harriet. You look real good.” He waggled his eyebrows at her.

“Tom! You’re starting to embarrass me.” Harriet didn’t know whether to be shocked or flattered. She definitely felt a lot of both.

“It’s all right. Don’t worry about it.” He flapped a hand at her. “And by the way, yes, I forgive you.”

She froze. “What?”

“You asked me to forgive you. And you said you wouldn’t be sup. . . superior anymore. Or something like that.” He closed his eyes and nodded. “I like that. I forgive you.”

Oh, no. Oh, no. He’d heard her. She thought he’d been asleep. But then, didn’t she want him to hear? Wasn’t she planning to tell him as soon as he woke up? He wanted to talk about it now, while he was as good as drunk. That was hardly a way for an apology to be delivered and received. Well, there was nothing she could do about it. “Thank you, Tom,” she said after a long delay. “I appreciate that a lot.”

“That’s good.” He went silent, and soon his chest began to rise and fall in rhythm. Rest was the best thing for him right now—Harriet was glad he’d be able to get some.

A moment later, he stirred. “I love you, Harriet,” he sighed, then went back to sleep.

Harriet stared at him, her eyes so wide, she could feel them straining.
What
had he said?

Elizabeth came into the room a moment later, carrying a plate. “Jeanette said you just woke up. I thought you might want something to eat. What’s the matter? You look upset.”