Was he crazy for enjoying carrying Olivia to the doctor or aiding Jessalyn with her firewood? Probably. But now Jessalyn and Thomas needed to get back together, which meant Isaac should stay as far away from them as possible.
Especially with his habit of failing people when they needed him most.
Chapter Seven
Jessalyn bent her head over her sewing, ignoring the delighted squeals coming from behind the building—or at least trying to. This was the second day in a row Thomas had walked the girls home from school, and the third day in a row he’d played with them in the yard before sending them inside. Yesterday, they’d built a snowwoman to go with the giant snowman they’d made after the storm, but today they were having a snowball fight, one Thomas seemed determined to lose.
She sighed, leaving the emerald fabric on the machine and resting her head in her hands. If he was so interested in getting to know them, then why hadn’t he asked her to go to the bakery again? She still wasn’t sure she’d say yes, but if talking was so all-fired important to him, the man could ask her more than once.
Unless he was trying to make her stew over it.
She scrubbed a hand over her face. None of this should be happening. He was supposed to change his mind about waiting and leave. Any day now. He might have promised he wasn’t leaving again, but he’d promised to cherish her on their wedding day too. It wasn’t as though she could believe him straight off.
Except he hadn’t left yet, and he was spending time with the girls. He’d written her letters and sent money the entire time he was gone, and he’d even apologized for not leaving Deadwood sooner to come get them in person.
She propped her elbows on the sewing machine and leaned her forehead against her hands. What was she going to do if he kept wedging himself into their family instead of deciding to leave?
The door to her shop opened, and the little bell above the door jingled wildly.
“Good afternoon.” She stood and stepped out from behind the sewing machine, catching the expensive fabric before it slipped to the floor.
“Good afternoon.” At the sound of the lazy Southern drawl, she looked up to find Dr. Harrington closing the door and hanging his coat on the peg beside it.
“Doctor.” She stepped over a basket of leather thongs and around a heap of dark-colored coats that needed to be washed before they were mended. “Did Lindy send you for more work? I have plenty. Let’s see. Where did I put the?—”
“Not work, Jessalyn, at least not for Lindy.” The somber tone in the doctor’s voice caused her to still, though he weaved his way toward her through the piles of clothes and numerous tables scattered throughout her shop. “I need to talk to you about Olivia’s ear. Is there someplace private we can go?”
She glanced out the windows facing North Street and the bar across the road. No one appeared to be paying her shop much attention, though several men loitered about The Rusty Wagon’s porch. “Here’s fine. The girls are outside playing, and I don’t want to go too far in case they need something.”
“How is Olivia’s earache?”
“The same as usual. The pain is the worst of it. She cried herself to sleep last night, even after I gave her extra willow barktea. But her fever wasn’t bad this morning, and she said she wanted to go to school, so I let her. You said she can’t get other children sick, right?”
“Right.” But his voice held a somber note. “It might be best if you sit, Jessalyn.”
Sit. Of course. She spun around, looking for a chair or two that wasn’t piled with clothing. Unfortunately all she had was the stool by her sewing machine. She moved a heap of children’s clothing off one of her other chairs before offering it to the doctor. “Sorry about the mess. I keep telling myself I’ll get this place cleaned up, but the second I get a table cleared, more mending comes in.”
“It’s quite all right.” The doctor sat, then simply looked at her, his green eyes weighted with sadness.
Her heartbeat quickened as she slid onto her stool. “There’s not something wrong with Olivia, is there? I mean, I know she gets earaches, but lots of children get earaches. They’ll go away eventually, won’t they? And Olivia will get back to normal?”
“Usually yes, but Olivia is a special case.” The doctor blew out a breath, his eyes meeting hers directly. “She needs surgery, Jessalyn.”
Surgery. The word rattled around inside her head, not staying quite still enough for her to latch on to it. “Like the surgery you did on Tressa to save her and the baby?”
A little over a month ago, Dr. Harrington had done a fancy surgery to cut Sarah out of Tressa’s stomach when the baby had gotten stuck during labor. Though the doctor claimed the surgery was dangerous, a person couldn’t tell it from looking at Tressa now. She’d been about town after only a few weeks of recovering.
Maybe surgery for Olivia wouldn’t be so bad, especially not if it took care of her ear infections once and for all.
“No.” Dr. Harrington leaned forward and rested his arms on his legs. “I’m afraid the only similarities between Tressa’s surgery and the one Olivia needs are that they both require scalpels and chloroform. Everything else will be different, including the doctor who does Olivia’s and the place where it’s performed.”
“The doctor? The place?” Her voice squeaked, and her hands dampened with sweat. “What are you saying?”
“Please understand I’m not an otologist. Nevertheless, I’m concerned Olivia’s ear infection has spread to the bone behind her ear, which is why it keeps coming back. I can treat the infection in her ear by poking her eardrum and draining the fluid, then keeping the area clean. But I can’t treat the one in her mastoid bone. Her ear keeps getting repeated infections because the bacteria from her bone leeches into her ear.
“The surgery is called a mastoidectomy.” He shifted, causing his chair to creak in the otherwise silent shop. “And it’s not something I can perform. I’ve sent out several letters regarding Olivia’s case, and it turns out one of my colleagues from medical school is now an otologist practicing in Chicago. I wrote to him about Olivia’s situation, and he thinks she likely needs a mastoidectomy, though he can’t make a decision without examining her himself.”
Ear surgery. In Chicago. She bit the inside of her cheek and drew in a long breath through her nose.Think.She needed a moment to think everything through. She should be able to manage the surgery for her daughter, especially since they were moving to Chicago. “What does this surgery entail?”
