The Grave Robber's Secret (5 page)

“And she shall have one.” His mother took one more look over the table. “Tell them I am ready,” she said.

Martha had joined her father in the parlor. “Ma's ready for us to eat now,” Robby said, and he held the door for father and daughter to go through to the kitchen.

“My, what delicious smells,” said William Burke. He took his place at the end of the table beside Martha, who sat on the bench. “I am most fortunate indeed to have found a house where the lady is a master chef and where there is a fine young son to keep my daughter company.” He smiled broadly at Ma and then at Robby.

“Thank you, sir,” said Ma, and Robby wondered if his mother still felt uncomfortable with having William Burke in the house. As to his own feelings, he had no doubt. William Burke might hand out compliments and charming smiles until Christmas without changing Robby's mind. He had seen the darkness in Burke's eyes when he apologized for tripping him yesterday. The man had taken pleasure in the small act of evil, as if it gave him power. Robby had to hold hard to the table's edge to resist the shudder that threatened to pass through him. Once during the meal, he felt Mr. Burke looking at him. He raised his gaze to meet Burke's eyes. They were the blackest, coldest eyes Robby had ever seen.

Swallowing back his fear, he said, “What's the weather like in North Carolina now, Mr. Burke?”

“North Carolina?” Burke frowned. “I am sure I wouldn't know, having never been in the state. Why would you suppose I know anything of North Carolina?”

Robby shot a quick glance at Martha, whose face had grown pale. He shrugged. “Oh, I guess I was wrong. I thought Da said you came from North Carolina.”

“Yes, you are wrong,” he said. “Don't trouble yourself about where we are from. You would be certain to find the story rather dull.” He stood.

“Oh,” said Ma quickly, “we've a nice apple pie. You must have a slice before you go.”

William Burke pursed his lips and looked at the pie with lowered eyelids. “I never touch sweets,” he said, “but the meal was delicious.” He turned to Martha. “I must go back to business now, my dear. You will be in good hands here with Robby and his mother, will you not?”

Martha nodded. Her father kissed the top of her head and left the table. Ma handed the child a saucer with a piece of apple pie. “Here, dearie,” she said. “This will put some color in your cheeks.”

Robby wanted to talk to Martha alone, but she begged to be allowed to help with the dishes, and Ma agreed. Robby could see that having the girl help made his mother uneasy. Doubtless she was imagining how William Burke might react to his daughter becoming a kitchen worker, but when the table was cleared Martha made an announcement. “I should tell you that I won't mention to Papa how I helped. Sometimes I don't tell him things because he has such a lot on his mind. No need to trouble him more.”

Ma gave the girl a quick hug. Robby knew that his mother enjoyed being with Martha, and his mind went to his little sister. He hoped no one had opened Lolly's grave to steal her away.

After the kitchen was clean, Robby and Martha took a slice of pie up to Miss Stone. “Robby,” she said when they were on the stairs, “I'm sorry I lied to you about North Carolina. I'm so glad you didn't tell Papa what I said. He would have been most unpleasant about it.”

“Well, where did you come from?”

They had reached the top of the steps, and Martha, ignoring the question, moved quickly to knock on the door. There was no response. “She might be …” Martha broke off her sentence and bit at her lip.

“She must be sleeping soundly,” Robby said quickly, and he pushed the door open, setting the pie on a table near the door. Miss Stone lay in her bed just as he had left her. They moved closer and Robby made a gasping sound. “I can't see her breathing!” He threw back the cover and put his hand on Miss Stone's chest. The movement he felt was slight.

Martha went to the washbasin. “I'll get a wet cloth,” she said. “Cool cloths are nice when a person is sick.” She came back to the bedside and spread the damp rag on Miss Stone's forehead. “Oh, look,” Martha cried. “She's opening her eyes.”

It was true. The eyelids fluttered, and the tired old eyes opened. Then the lips moved, but the children couldn't hear what she said. Robby dropped to his knees and leaned close. “Robby, my books, I want you to have them,” she whispered.

“No! You aren't dying. I brought you apple pie! Let me get it. I'll feed you bites.”

“Maybe later,” she said, and she closed her eyes again.

Martha was crying softly, and Robby could feel his own tears about to burst out. “I've got to get a doctor,” he said.

“Does your mother have money for a doctor?” Martha looked about the room. “Or maybe there is a purse with money in it here somewhere.”

Robby shook his head. “No, there's no money here. She has a tiny income each month, but the rent takes it all.” He began to pace the floor. “We've got to think of something. My da keeps the household money, and he would never pay for a doctor.”

“Neither would my papa,” said Martha.

“Will you stay with her? I'll tell Ma to check in on you. I've got an idea where I might find a doctor to come for free. At least he seemed kind when I met him.”

Martha pulled the rocking chair to the bedside. She sat in it and took the hand that lay limply on the bed. “I'll stay,” she said. “Hurry.”

Robby ran down the stairs, calling, “Ma, I've got to go. Got to get a doctor for Miss Stone.”

His mother came from the kitchen, her arms dripping from the laundry she had been doing in the big tin tub. “Wait, son, your da would never pay for a doctor for her. You know he won't.”

“I have an idea,” he said, but he did not wait for her to answer. He was out the front door, running.

CHAPTER FIVE

T
he hospital seemed much farther away than it had during the trips with his father. Robby had to stop to catch his breath three times, but finally the big stone building was in sight. When he reached the door, he paused. Should he knock? Maybe the door was not locked during the daytime. He tried the knob, and it moved in his hand. He pushed through the door, yelling, “Dr. Bell, Dr. Bell, I need you!”

Two men came from one of the rooms. Both of them wore white coats. “See here,” said one. “What are you up to? You aren't supposed to be in this building.”

“The door wasn't locked.” Robby moved to go around the men, but one of them grabbed his arm. Robby tried to pull his arm back, but the man held on. “I need to see Dr. Bell, please,” he said, and then he yelled, “Dr. Bell, I need you!”

Down the hall a bit, another door opened, and out stepped the man Robby was looking for. “It's all right,” he said to the men. “I know this young fellow.”

“Very well,” said one. “Perhaps you can explain to him that it is not polite to come shouting about without being properly invited.” They did not wait for an answer, just turned and went back into the room from which they had come.

“Please come with me, Dr. Bell,” Robby said. “My friend is dying.”

Dr. Bell put his hand on Robby's shoulder. “What friend?”

“Her name is Miss Stone. She's a boarder at our house, and she is old and has no money.” His voice shook. “My father won't pay, but I will work. I will work hard for you, doing anything.”

“All right, Robby,” said the doctor, and Robby felt honored that Dr. Bell had remembered his name. “You wait here while I get some things.” When he came back, he carried a black bag. “Where do you live?” he asked.

Robby gave him the address. “It's a good distance from here,” he said.

“We'll take a carriage. There's always one ready in the back.” Robby followed the doctor down the long hall. Several doors were open, and Robby thought that at another time it would be interesting to see what the rooms contained, but he didn't even glance at them now.

Outside, a sturdy brown horse stood harnessed to a little black carriage. “Climb up,” said the doctor. He opened a small door and settled on the seat, the reins in his hands. Robby did not take the time to open the door, just climbed over the low side.

When the horse began to clop down the street, Robby let himself lean against the back of the seat. He knew the ride would be quicker than his run had been, but he wished the doctor would urge the horse to run. Finally, they rounded the corner of his street. “There,” said Robby, “the fourth house.” He was climbing out even before the doctor pulled the horse to a stop.

While the doctor tied his horse at the hitching pole, Robby ran to open the front door. “She's upstairs.”

His mother sat in the rocking chair. Martha had settled herself on the foot of the bed. Both of them stood when Robby came in, followed by the doctor. “This is Dr. Bell,” he said. “He's come to help us.”

Dr. Bell took out an instrument, put tubes connected to it in his ears, and held the other piece to Miss Stone's chest. “Her heartbeat is not strong,” he said when he had removed the tubes. He shook his head. “I'm not sure there is anything I can do.” He took a bottle from his bag. “Get me a spoon, please,” he said, and Robby ran for one from the kitchen.

When he returned, Miss Stone lay with eyes closed on pillows Robby's mother had put under her shoulders and head to prop her up. Dr. Bell poured a spoonful of the dark liquid from the bottle. “This elixir might give you strength,” he said to her, and he touched her lips with the spoon. “Open up now,” he said, “and swallow this.”

She did, and to everyone's surprise she said loudly, “That's terrible stuff. Are you trying to kill me?”

The doctor leaned close to Miss Stone. “Quite the contrary, madam. You take this medicine,” he said, “and I'll come back to see you if you need me.”

Her hand lifted from the bed to grasp his arm. “I've no money for you, doctor,” she whispered.

“Don't fret about that. Robby has found a way to pay me.” He turned to the boy. “Walk out with me, and I'll tell you what I have in mind.”

Robby followed Dr. Bell down the narrow stairs and out the front door. The doctor unhitched the horse from the hitching post. “There's little I can do for her. Give her the elixir every four hours or so. She might show some improvement.” He touched Robby's shoulder. “I'm afraid her death will come soon.” Robby dropped his head and tears seeped from his eyes. The doctor went on. “See if you can get at least a little food and drink down her.” He shrugged his shoulders. “Who knows, she might recover. I've seen it happen. I'll not charge for the visit, but I would like you to work for me anyway. There are lots of jobs around the medical school that you could take care of now and then, and, of course, I'll pay you.”

A thrill went through Robby, but then he thought of his father. “Would you object if I didn't tell my da?” He bit at his lips. “I'd sooner not tell him about the pay. Do you think that's wrong?”

“No, Robby. It is not wrong. You come by the hospital whenever you get a chance.” He climbed up into his carriage then. Robby did not stay to see him go.

Going back into the dark house from the sunshine made it hard for him to see. For a moment, he stood at the foot of the stairs in thought. It hurt to think of losing Miss Stone, and now he knew that the loss would likely come soon. He wiped at his eyes and took a deep breath. His job was to try to take the best care he could of her and to make sure she did not die alone. He began to climb the long dark stairs.

Robby and Martha stayed with Miss Stone. Once Robby thought of questioning Martha about the North Carolina lie, but the time did not seem right. When they heard Burke come in the front door, Martha jumped up. “I'd best run down to Papa,” she said. “It wouldn't do to have him know I'm in here with a sick woman. I'll come back when I can.”

Robby passed the time reading. When there was not enough light through the window, his mother lit the oil lamp. She also brought his supper and a cup of broth for Miss Stone. Sometimes, when he spooned it slowly into her mouth, she would open her eyes. Most of the time, she said nothing, but she did give him weak little smiles.

He heard Martha and her father come upstairs after the evening meal to go to their rooms. Later he heard heavy steps on the stairs. He sucked in his breath. Da was coming. He put his book down and hurried to the closed door. Was there a lock? No, there was a small latch, but Robby knew his father would need only to lean against the door to force the latch to fail.

In the hallway, his father paused, and Robby prayed he would turn back. He didn't. The heavy steps continued, and then the door was open. Da stepped into the room. “Your ma says the old lady be real bad.” He walked to her bedside and stood looking down at her.

“Da,” said Robby, who still stood by the door, “I've got to stay with her.”

Roger Hare turned and looked at his son. “Of course you do, boy. I ain't here to tell you no different.”

Robby stared at his father. Was he drunk? He had not detected the smell of strong drink as Da walked by him. “Thank you,” he said.

Roger Hare moved toward the door. When he was near Robby, he stopped and touched the boy's cheek, drawing his hand away quickly. “You're a good boy, you are, and I be knowing it. There's a deal more of your mother in you than there is of me.” Then he was gone.

Robby went to the door, but his father was going down the stairs. He was surprised when Miss Stone spoke. “Glory be! There is a bit of decency in him after all,” she said, and her voice sounded much stronger than before. For a long time Robby stayed by the open door, staring out into the dark hall. Then, encouraged by the strength of her speech, he uncovered the piece of apple pie he had left on the table and was pleased to get several bites down her before Miss Stone went back to sleep.

Before she went to bed, Ma brought Robby's pallet, pillow, and cover to him. Robby opened his mouth to tell her about his father's kindness, but something rose up in his throat. He found he could not speak of it.

He was about to lie down on his pallet when the door opened and Martha crept in. She whispered, “How is she?”

He told her about the broth and the apple pie. “She spoke earlier, and her voice sounded stronger,” he added.

“I'll sit with you a while …” She paused. “I mean, if you want me to stay.”

“Oh, I do,” he said. “You take the rocking chair. I'll get one of the chairs from the table. Does your father know you are in here?”

“Heavens, no. He's fast asleep. I stood outside his door and heard him snoring away.” She was quiet for a minute, then she spoke again. “My father is not a cruel man, not really. He does try too hard to protect me sometimes, but he really isn't cruel even though he's done things …” Her words trailed away.

Robby moved one of the two straight wooden chairs from the table to be close to the bed. “What things?”

In the lamplight he saw her shudder. “Things I can't speak of.”

“What business does he go to each day?”

“I don't know, Robby, and that's the truth.” She sighed deeply. “I'm sorry I lied to you about North Carolina.” She paused for a moment. “We lived in Boston, but you must not tell anyone.”

“What did he work at in Boston?”

Martha looked over her shoulder at the door. “He worked with my uncle. They had a shipping business. We lived in a big splendid house with a lady to do the cooking.” She shook her head. “We had to leave there after my uncle died. Mama and I were so sick, but Papa said we had to go. He loaded us up in a carriage with blankets wrapped around us. Mama died in New York. Papa stopped just long enough to have her buried. Then we drove off and left her. Papa sold the horse and carriage, and we came here on a train.”

Robby thought there must be more to the story. Why would Mr. Burke travel with a sick wife and daughter? He really wanted to hear it all. He could see, though, that Martha had no intention of giving other details. He would not make her uncomfortable by pressing her to tell. Maybe someday she would want to talk about it.

They were quiet for a while, then Robby said, “I had a little sister, and her name was Lolly.”

“What happened to her?”

“She died two years ago. In the winter, she got a fever and a cough. Da got her a doctor, but it didn't do any good.” He stopped and looked at Martha. “She had hair like yours, yellow as sunshine. She was just six when she died. We buried her with her doll.”

“Was your father mean to Lolly?” Martha asked.

Robby shook his head. “He never was, but he wasn't really hard on me when I was younger.” He shrugged. “Maybe he would have started hitting her too if she had lived longer. Maybe it is better that she died because I am afraid I might have done something awful to him if ever I saw him lay a hand on Lolly. Losing Lolly made Ma and me awful sad, but Pa just got meaner.”

They did not talk more. Martha dozed some in the rocker, but Robby was afraid to nap. Every so often, he spooned some elixir or water into Miss Stone's mouth, and he was able to convince the patient to take a few more small bites of the apple pie. When light began to show through the window, Robby shook Martha's shoulder. “You best go back to your room now,” he said. “It's almost day.”

Before long, Robby heard the front door open and close. Mr. Burke was gone. He went downstairs, where Martha sat eating porridge. Robby got himself a bowl, ate, and was thinking of getting another when a knock sounded on the back door.

Ma went to open it. “Jane,” she said, “you've come at a good time. We've porridge to share.”

“Is he here, the one that yells?” Jane leaned into the kitchen and looked all about.

“No, just Robby and me, and our new friend Martha,” Ma said. “You can come right in and sit at the table.” She was a sad sight, matted hair that had once been red and was now faded and dirty to the point that Robby couldn't say what color it would be called. There were big dark smudges of what looked like soot on her face, and she wore a brown dress that was torn and filthy.

“I'm terrible hungry,” she said.

Robby had seen Daft Jane from time to time for as long as he could remember. He had heard it said that she was once normal, but that she lost her wits when her daughter died, and she did often mutter about a lost child. Others said she was born that way and that the baby she rambled about had never existed. They said she only took to the streets after her parents passed away. She mostly hung around in the business section of town, and could often be seen in the alleys, eating scraps that had been thrown away by taverns. She also begged for food and came to the Hares' door fairly often. “We're poor,” Robby remembered his mother saying more than once, “but we aren't poor enough to ignore starvation in another human being.”