Shadows of St. Louis (5 page)

The Doctor is in

Henry went through the rest of the day in a daze. He made his deliveries, filled orders, and restocked the businesses on his route as expected, but his mind never focused on any of those activities. He couldn't stop thinking about Emma. The way she screamed in pain when he hugged her and then clutched her side. He had seen that kind of reaction before. He was sure Emma had a fractured rib, maybe two.

Last summer his excellent grades in school had earned him an apprenticeship with Dr. Thompson. He followed him on all of his house calls and assisted with several procedures. Since it wasn't a paid apprenticeship, his father wouldn't allow him to work for Dr. Thompson again this summer. He had to earn money for the family.

At the end of his milk delivery shift, Henry turned in his truck then ran to Dr. Thompson's office.

***

"Well, hello there, Henry," Martha said in her sweet Texas drawl even though everyone knew she was originally from Boston. Martha firmly believed that secretaries with southern accents seemed friendlier and thus was better for business.

Henry barely acknowledged her existence as he looked past her desk toward Dr. Thompson's office.

"Henry?
You all right?"

"Oh, Hello."
Henry reached for his hat and winced as he grabbed a handful of his own hair instead.

"We all miss you around here, Henry. It's too bad you couldn't take the apprenticeship this summer." Martha looked around the waiting room then leaned in toward Henry. "Honestly, we just couldn't afford to pay you like you requested," she said in her normal New England accent. "That's why we didn't offer it to you. Mrs. Thompson has been dipping into the sauce a little too much lately if you know what I mean." She pantomimed drinking from a bottle. "It's been a real drain on his finances. But I think Dr. Thompson has some good news for you, though." Martha leaned back and smiled.

"Is he in?" Henry asked barely registering anything she'd said. He was too concerned about Emma and wanted to get medical attention to her as soon as possible.

"Go right on back, Sugar."

***

Henry paced in front of Goodwin's Confectionary hugging Dr. Thompson's extra medical bag. He hadn't thought this through. How was he supposed to go in to help Emma without attracting suspicion of his true feelings for her? It was nearing six o'clock. Soon the store would be closed. His mother would be expecting him home for dinner. Maybe this wasn't a good idea after all.

"Hello Henry," a voice from behind said. Henry spun around and nearly ran into Charles Goodwin.

"Hello," Henry replied staring down at the ground. He couldn't think of anything else to say; he just rocked back on his heels for a moment.

"Do you still need your hat?" Charles asked finally.

"No ... well ... yes ... but that's not why I'm here."

"Why are you here?" Charles asked the question as if he already knew the answer. It made Henry nervous. Someone already knew his feelings for Emma. Would he be able to admit the truth?

Henry took a deep breath. "I'm here to see Emma." He had meant to shout it with conviction, but in reality the words came out as a whisper.

"Why?" Charles was not going to make this easy for him.

Inside Henry was dying to say the truth. That he loved Emma Lynn. That he wanted to spend the rest of his life with her. And that every second of the day that he didn't see her was a torturous agony. But instead he said, "She has a broken rib." He held up his bag. "I have some medical supplies that will help her."

Charles' eyes expanded. "How do you know it's broken?"

"I worked for a doctor last summer. I know the symptoms."

Charles nodded and looked in the window of the shop. He let out a curse when he noticed his mother working the counter. "There's no way my mother will let you see her," he said. He thought for a moment then added, "Come back right after dark. Come to the alley. Rebecca Jane or I will let you in the cellar."

Henry moved his pacing operation to the alley where he met Emma Lynn every morning. His mind was cluttered. Would he be able to help Emma? Would she need to be taken to a hospital? Who did this to her in the first place? What did it mean for their future?

Why was he even thinking of a future with a Negro? What was wrong with him? He started thinking about what Dr. Thompson had told him earlier. He'd found him a scholarship for college. With Dr. Thompson's recommendation, he'd easily be able to get into medical school as well. Where did Emma Lynn fit into his plans?

Before he could figure out an answer, he heard a whistle come from the window of the cellar. Henry tossed the medical back through the window then crawled in behind it. His pant leg got caught on the ledge. After yanking it free, he tumbled into the cellar.

"Henry? What —" Emma Lynn began as she jerked up from the bed. The sharp movement was too much for her to handle. She clutched her side and lay back down.

Charles rushed to her side and knelt next to her cot. "
It's
okay,
Emmie
," he said smoothing her hair.

Emma Lynn shook her head. "He shouldn't be here. He's going to get in trouble."

"I have medicine," Henry said after finding his footing. He picked up his medical bag off the floor and held it up as if presenting evidence.

"What if Mrs. Goodwin finds him?" Emma said to Charles. "She'll think I asked him to come or that I lured him here."

Henry wondered why Emma spoke only to Charles. Once again he doubted how she felt about him.

"Mother will never know. Rebecca Jane and I have planned well. Don't you
worry.
" Charles pinched her chin then kissed her cheek. Another wave of jealousy swept over Henry. He wanted to be the one to press his lips to her face.

Charles stood up and gestured for Henry to step forward and take his place. Henry knelt beside the bed and spoke softly. "Emma, I'm almost certain you have a broken rib, but I need to be sure. May I examine you?"

Emma Lynn stared up at him with her light brown eyes that made his breath catch. He wished he knew what she was thinking. Was she afraid of him? Did she fear his touch or did she yearn for it as much as he yearned to touch her? He couldn't tell.

Without waiting for a response, Henry unbuttoned her cotton dress around her midsection then slipped his hand underneath the thin fabric. The feel of her warm skin sent shivers through him. He had to force himself to remember his training. This was a medical examination. He needed to treat it as such.

His hand inched up to the skin covering her ribs.
The skin right below her naked bosom.
He pressed in as gently as possible, but Emma Lynn still shrieked in pain.

"I'm so sorry, Emma. I know that hurts. I just had to be sure."

"Sure of what?" Charles asked. "What's wrong?"

"She has two fractured ribs," Henry said not taking his eyes off of Emma Lynn. Tears welled in her eyes and trickled down the sides of her face. Without thinking he brushed the moisture away with the tips of his fingers. "I'm going to give her something for the pain and then wrap her chest to keep her as immobile as possible." He reached into his bag and prepared an injection.

"What is that you're giving her?" Charles asked.

"It will dull the pain and help her sleep." Henry rubbed Emma Lynn's arm for a moment before easing the needle in. She didn't take her eyes off of him the entire time. The world melted away. In his mind, only he and Emma existed.

"I better get upstairs and see what she wants," Charles said suddenly.

"What?" Henry asked still staring into Emma's eyes.

"Rebecca Jane is calling me. I think her diversion is wearing thin. How long can she argue with Mother?"

Still kneeling next to the bed, Henry nodded absentmindedly. He hadn't heard a thing. He couldn't care less about Rebecca Jane and Mrs. Goodwin at this moment. Not when his Emma was in pain.

"If I help you, do you think you can sit up?" he asked Emma once Charles had left the cellar.

She nodded and reached for his hands. After pulling her up to a sitting position, Henry set about wrapping her chest. He did so as gently as he could, but he knew she was still in excruciating pain.

When he finished, Emma Lynn lifted his chin and wiped a tear away from his cheek. He had no idea he'd been crying. He grabbed her hand and kissed the inside of her wrist. "Emma," he whispered.

"Henry," she said before her eyes glazed over and her head drooped to the side. The medication was kicking in.

Henry stood, then sat next to her and rested her head in his lap. She was out cold.

Just one glance as quick as a heartbeat

Is enough to get me through the
day.

He started reciting from memory the poem he had written for her. Knowing that no one would hear him gave him the confidence to say it out loud.

Just the sound of your voice as soft as a single fallen eyelash

Makes me feel as if I could fly

Just the thought of your skin against mine

Ignites a burning that can only be
quelched
by your
reciprocation

The poem sounded desperate and pathetic now that he'd said it out loud. He wondered if she had even read it in the first place and, if so, had she realized it was about her.

Henry looked around the empty cellar again. He finally decided to just say what he felt without his misguided attempts at sounding clever.

"I love you, Emma," he said while stroking her hair. "It hurts how much I love you. It hurts to not see your face every minute of every day. But then it hurts just as much when I'm with you because I know it can't last." He leaned down and brushed his lips against her temple. "I don't know what to do."

True Pain

Charles wondered if Henry had anything in his medical bag that would dull the piercing sting of guilt. He was sure Emma Lynn's ribs were painful, but that would eventually heal. He wasn't so sure about the guilt that festered inside him. That was a true pain that would never go away.

He closed his eyes and shook his head deciding to stick with his usual pain reliever: Bourbon.

Rebecca Jane thrust the door to the living room open with her characteristic flair. "Next time you shall have the pleasure of distracting our mother for an entire hour," she said flopping into the settee. "That woman is infuriating."

Charles polished off his glass of bourbon in one gulp relishing in the familiar burn down his throat. Before the alcohol could even settle in his stomach, he was pouring another.

"I do wish you wouldn't drink, Charles. You're not a very nice person when you drink."

"I'm not a nice person at all," Charles said before taking another gulp.

Rebecca Jane stood and crossed the room to where Charles was leaning over the liquor cabinet. "Don't say that," she said, gently resting her hand on his shoulder.

He shrugged her hand away. "I can't take this anymore, Becky."

She sighed. "Well, can you live with the alternative?"

"It doesn't matter. We have to tell her the truth. She deserves to know."

"What good will that do, Charles? It won't change a single thing. She'll just hate us for lying to her for all these years."

"It's not fair, Becky. It could be either one of us living in that cellar or getting attacked by over-privileged, narrow-minded white men."

"I know." Rebecca Jane hugged herself as if she suddenly got a chill.

Giving up on the polite etiquette of a glass, Charles began taking swigs directly from the bottle. The rush of the alcohol made him momentarily woozy. He clutched the back of a chair and then stumbled around into it.

"The milkman is in love with her," he said once the room stopped spinning.

Rebecca Jane nodded. "I know that, too."

"How long have you
known
?" he asked.

She shrugged and returned to her seat across the room.
"A few weeks now.
They stare into each other's eyes as if there's no one else in the world. They exchange books and poetry and God only knows what else. It's rather sweet actually."

"Sweet?
You think it's sweet?" he yelled loudly.
Too loudly.
He rubbed his head trying to massage away the headache that was growing. "I thought it was cute as well when I thought it was a simple little childhood
crush
. But after seeing the way he looks at her, it is obviously so much more. And it's going to lead to disaster for both of them.
And for us too."

"Perhaps not Charles.
This is not the same situation as you and Charlotte." Rebecca was trying to be reassuring, but she didn't understand. She hadn't had to live through what he did with Charlotte.

Just the mention of Charlotte's name sent another searing pain through his mind and body. He thought he was over her. Not quite. He would need more bourbon. Standing, he retrieved a fresh bottle from the cabinet.

"I'm going to tell her the truth," he said holding the bottle to his cheek.

Rebecca Jane didn't argue or come up with excuses as she had in the past. She’d known this day would come. She knew it was time.
"When?
How?"

Charles stared at his reflection in the mirror above the liquor cabinet.
Blue eyes, curly blond hair.
Would she even believe him? "Saturday night.
On her birthday.
I think it's time she met Jessie."