Read Online A Fall of Marigolds by Susan Meissner - Free Book Online
Authors: Susan Meissner
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brother gets the pattern book. Keep it safe for me until he comes to get . . . comes for me?”
It didn’t seem too hard a task, though Mrs. Crowley would think it most improper for a nurse to safeguard a patient’s belongings in her dormitory room. But I was already doing that. And had been for the better part of an hour.
“Shall I just keep it tucked away in my room until we see what the future holds?” I asked. “If you escape the fever, you will be able to leave in a few days. I can bring it to you then.”
He nodded, relief evident in his careworn face. “And if I should get the fever, and if . . . if it kills me—”
“You will have much better care here than your . . . than anyone had on the ship, Mr. Gwynn. Many people who contract the fever survive if they receive proper medical treatment.”
I clamped my mouth shut. There was no solace in pointing out the obvious: His wife had died because she had been on a ship in the middle of the ocean. If she had been here on Ellis when she became ill, she would have perhaps survived.
“But if I do not survive,” Andrew went on, as if I had not interrupted him, “you will see that my brother gets the book?”
In the same moment that he asked me this I realized I had a stretch of space for deciding what to do with Lily’s letter. If Andrew Gwynn succumbed to the fever just as his wife had, I wouldn’t have to do anything. He could die in peace thinking his lovely new wife loved him. He would surely go looking for her in paradise and perhaps learn the truth at last in heaven. But heaven seems a place where truth cannot hurt. Here, the truth can be devastating.
If he fell ill and survived I had many days to decide.
If he wasn’t to become ill at all, I had less than a week.
I had time.
He still waited for my answer.
I didn’t want to tell Andrew that I’d make sure his brother got the book provided he came to the island to get it himself. That would have taken too much explaining.
“Of course,” I said. “I am due to rotate into the isolation wards on Monday. We can see how you’re doing then.”
He bowed slightly. “Thank you. I am in your debt.”
“Not at all,” I said quickly, shaking off those last five words.
He sat down on his bed slowly, as though contemplating what might be in store for him had exhausted him.
“I’ll leave you to settle in, then,” I said.
“Thank you.” He held out his hand, palm up, toward me. It was the strangest gesture. Like a poor man asking for alms. I just stared, unsure what he expected me to do.
“My luggage keys?” he said.
“Oh! Of course!” I reached into my pocket, my hand firmly palming the book of poetry and my fingers grazing Lily’s confession. I grasped for the shoelace and claim tickets and quickly drew them out. I placed them in his hands. “I am afraid they’ve sent your wife’s . . . the other trunk to the incinerator. It’s not in the baggage room anymore.”
But this news did not surprise him.
“I was told that would likely happen. They told me they planned to destroy any of the belongings of those who had died. To be sure. It was a very bad case.”
He closed his hand around the ticket and keys.
I started to walk away.
“You’ve a kind heart, Miss Wood.”
I turned to look at Andrew but he was looking out the window again.
Kindness is always motivated by something nobler than just a desire to be kind.
I had a wounded heart. Like his. That is what I had.
Seven
THE afternoon passed quickly as more arrivals flowed into Ellis, typical for a Friday. Dolly and I and the other nurses in the reception area had little time for small talk as we escorted immigrants to the rooms that would be their holding place for at least the weekend. I could see that Dolly was anxious for the day to fully be at its close so that she could find out what I had discovered about Lily Gwynn. Late in the afternoon a large contingent of the suspected ill crowded into our lobby and I
It didn’t seem too hard a task, though Mrs. Crowley would think it most improper for a nurse to safeguard a patient’s belongings in her dormitory room. But I was already doing that. And had been for the better part of an hour.
“Shall I just keep it tucked away in my room until we see what the future holds?” I asked. “If you escape the fever, you will be able to leave in a few days. I can bring it to you then.”
He nodded, relief evident in his careworn face. “And if I should get the fever, and if . . . if it kills me—”
“You will have much better care here than your . . . than anyone had on the ship, Mr. Gwynn. Many people who contract the fever survive if they receive proper medical treatment.”
I clamped my mouth shut. There was no solace in pointing out the obvious: His wife had died because she had been on a ship in the middle of the ocean. If she had been here on Ellis when she became ill, she would have perhaps survived.
“But if I do not survive,” Andrew went on, as if I had not interrupted him, “you will see that my brother gets the book?”
In the same moment that he asked me this I realized I had a stretch of space for deciding what to do with Lily’s letter. If Andrew Gwynn succumbed to the fever just as his wife had, I wouldn’t have to do anything. He could die in peace thinking his lovely new wife loved him. He would surely go looking for her in paradise and perhaps learn the truth at last in heaven. But heaven seems a place where truth cannot hurt. Here, the truth can be devastating.
If he fell ill and survived I had many days to decide.
If he wasn’t to become ill at all, I had less than a week.
I had time.
He still waited for my answer.
I didn’t want to tell Andrew that I’d make sure his brother got the book provided he came to the island to get it himself. That would have taken too much explaining.
“Of course,” I said. “I am due to rotate into the isolation wards on Monday. We can see how you’re doing then.”
He bowed slightly. “Thank you. I am in your debt.”
“Not at all,” I said quickly, shaking off those last five words.
He sat down on his bed slowly, as though contemplating what might be in store for him had exhausted him.
“I’ll leave you to settle in, then,” I said.
“Thank you.” He held out his hand, palm up, toward me. It was the strangest gesture. Like a poor man asking for alms. I just stared, unsure what he expected me to do.
“My luggage keys?” he said.
“Oh! Of course!” I reached into my pocket, my hand firmly palming the book of poetry and my fingers grazing Lily’s confession. I grasped for the shoelace and claim tickets and quickly drew them out. I placed them in his hands. “I am afraid they’ve sent your wife’s . . . the other trunk to the incinerator. It’s not in the baggage room anymore.”
But this news did not surprise him.
“I was told that would likely happen. They told me they planned to destroy any of the belongings of those who had died. To be sure. It was a very bad case.”
He closed his hand around the ticket and keys.
I started to walk away.
“You’ve a kind heart, Miss Wood.”
I turned to look at Andrew but he was looking out the window again.
Kindness is always motivated by something nobler than just a desire to be kind.
I had a wounded heart. Like his. That is what I had.
Seven
THE afternoon passed quickly as more arrivals flowed into Ellis, typical for a Friday. Dolly and I and the other nurses in the reception area had little time for small talk as we escorted immigrants to the rooms that would be their holding place for at least the weekend. I could see that Dolly was anxious for the day to fully be at its close so that she could find out what I had discovered about Lily Gwynn. Late in the afternoon a large contingent of the suspected ill crowded into our lobby and I
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