“Please, allow me to walk with you,” Alistair pressed. “A young woman as pretty as you are should not be out walking by herself.”
Ruth sighed inwardly and conceded, as she did not want to encourage Alistair’s trivial banter.
“As you wish, Alistair,” Ruth agreed, “but I’m not up to conversation just now.”
“That is quite understandable,” Alistair held out his arm and Ruth took it, allowing him to lead her down 17th Street. She did not pay much attention as he rambled on about belonging to the Cheyenne Club and how desirable that was for a gentleman like himself, and how he would never be seen at a saloon or common downtown establishment.
“I can prescribe medication for your melancholy,” Alistair offered with a side glance in her direction.
“Thank you, Alistair. I appreciate your kind offer, but I do not need medication.” Ruth said, keeping her gaze straight ahead. All she wanted was to be left to her thoughts without having to listen to Alistair.
“If only Daniel had not been so reckless, I am sure Richard would still be alive.” Alistair’s voice hardened and his mood seemed suddenly argumentative.
Ruth looked at him and fisted her hand in an attempt to resist the urge to slap him.
“Daniel did what he knew to be right,” she said firmly but politely, noticing that he began to exude irritation.
“I have many years of experience,” he said with an edge of superiority. “It is unnecessary action that often causes the most harm.”
“Richard was choking!” Ruth pulled her hand from his arm. “He would have died otherwise,” she declared.
“And now?” Alistair persisted. “Is he not dead? If I may be so bold, I daresay that all Daniel’s efforts were for nothing. Richard was in poor health and Daniel dragged you into a matter that he should have known better than to do.”
Ruth was stunned. “You even said yourself that intubation was the right course of action.”
“I did, yes. However,” Alistair sniffed, “I reminded Daniel of the risk and unfortunately the intervention did not work, which is often the regrettable result.”
“How can you say such a thing?” Ruth glared at him, wishing she could say what she really thought.
“It is not my intention to upset you, Ruth,” Alistair said patronizingly. “I understand your fondness for Daniel and his motherless child, but you should not entertain those matters at the clinic. You should settle down with an honorable man and take your rightful place in society.”
“Whatever are you talking about?” Ruth wondered if it were possible for this man to be more appalling than what he had already shown himself to be.
“Why do you bother with this kind of life?” Alistair said dismissively. “There is no reason for you to stay here and work as a nurseoras Matthew’s nursemaid.”
“I do not expect you to understand, Alistair,” Ruth lifted her head and looked at him in defiance, “I enjoy what I do, and I would not have it any other way.” Ruth thought Alistair’s pride had no end.
Alistair exhaled, “It has not escaped my attention that you are fond of Daniel, as well, I might add, not just his son.” He peered at her with a brow lifted as if he had revealed a great secret. “If I were you, I would not bother, because he will not have a long life. Just as his father perished before his time due to his condition. You are an intelligent woman, and I am sure you are aware of this, so you must know it is genetic,” he said without apparent concern.
Ruth closed her eyes and gave a silent prayer. She thought hard and desperately wanted to put him in his place, but she also realized this may be her only opportunity for answers. She felt a tug at her heart and knew that something was not right and prayed inwardly.
Dear Lord, I pray for your wisdom to keep courage to speak the right words. Help and guide me to know what I need to know about Alistair.
“You may be right, Alistair; it is something to think about.” Ruth tilted her head and looked at him intently.
Alistair chuckled. “I knew you would understand.” He seemed pleased with himself.
“Tell me about Alexander Grant’s condition,” she asked, feigning interest. “As you are highly skilled and experienced, you would know everything about leukemia and how to treat it?”
“Of course, my dear,” Alistair’s inflated sense of self-importance was on full display.
“What were Alexander Grant’s symptoms?” Ruth felt her pulse begin to race and hoped he would not realize that she was simply appealing to his sense of superiority.
“I would have assumed you already knew, but I suppose since you are not a doctor, you couldn’t possibly know,” his laugh was like a man comfortable after a glass of fine brandy. “He became weak and developed large lumps in his neck and under his arms, a common symptom of infection. There was bruising and frequent bleeding; he became feverish and lost a significant amount of weight.”
“It sounds awful, such terrible suffering,” Ruth murmured while analyzing Alistair’s smug expression. “Did he experience anxiety, memory loss, or gum disease?”
“What?” Alistair laughed loudly and disrespectfully. “What a thought! Where did you get that idea? I am not a dentist so I could not say if he had gum disease. He did experience some memory loss and anxiety, of course.”
