As he pressed his ear to the hollow instrument, his expression slipped far away, beyond the walls of the room and the glistening icicles dressing the window, beyond the reach of cholera or even the grave. Nora knew that look like she knew her own face in the mirror. He was searching for sound, for movement, for discovery, for life.
“Anything?” Daniel finally whispered.
Horace came back to them, landing his troubled blue eyes on Nora’s. “Not yet. But that doesn’t mean—”
“I know.” She knew precisely everything it meant and didn’t mean. In this strange region of waiting, her child was neither dead nor alive, neither lost nor found. Nothing, until they knew for certain.
“But you survived.” Horace lowered his brow, as if to rebuke her trembling lip.
She nodded bravely, pretending a courage she didn’t feel.
“Did I do the right thing? Using the solution?”
Horace put the stethoscope in his pocket, the wooden instrument projecting absurdly from his coat. “It didn’t kill you. That’s one thing. I’d never have dared pour anything into your veins.”
“But is it viable?” Professional curiosity nudged against the threatening grief.
“Seems to be,” he conceded. “But advisable?” He frowned. “Questionable, I think. Can’t build a protocol from only two patients.” His face softened, his uneven whiskers climbing down his aging jaw. “But it appears to have given you just enough time. The maid was the only one who didn’t get the infusion, and she’s quite dead.”
Nora ignored his insensitive assessment. “And the ether?” she asked. “Would you repeat that?”
Daniel stood and turned away, as if the memories and her eager questions were too much to bear.
“Desperate measures, my dear,” Horace concluded, also observing Daniel’s strained patience. “It’s time for you to eat and sleep a real sleep. Not a drugged one.”
“But, Horace,” she insisted, “our experiments worked.” His with the ether, and hers with the transfusion. “You saved me again.”
He frowned at her the way he used to when she was being precocious as a child. He sighed and rubbed his resigned eyes. “Considering you prescribed the Latta’s, this time, child, you largely saved yourself.” He cleared his throat. “You are no longer in danger, so I’m taking the carriage home to help the midwives overnight. But I’ll be back in the morning.”
The world froze like a painting as Horace paused in the middle of the room, a thoughtful shadow of a smile in his eyes, each line of his face suddenly as familiar as if she were the one who had sketched them into place.
She saw for the first time the shapeless state of his old jacket, hardly more than a dishrag with lapels and pockets. And she saw the man within it—his clenched hands hiding brilliantfingers that knew life and death by mere touch. Grief and gratitude burned through her frozen limbs.
“I love you,” Nora whispered.
Horace’s face quirked, his eyes tightening at the corners before he nodded gently.
A tear dropped like a hot cinder on her cheek as Horace lumbered away quietly.
Daniel wiped her tear away, blinking back his own. “If we have lost our child—”
“We don’t know for certain. So let’s not speak of it yet,” Nora finished. The necessary words and thoughts were too heavy for hefting.
Don’t think of it now.
Daniel put his head down on the thick blanket covering her stomach. This was the closest he’d ever come to their baby. She’d known the child from the inside, but he only from a distance.
“But I didn’t lose you.” He sighed, the words filled with something too much for words, like holding a mountain in his hand. Impossible.
“I thought I’d be immune.” She murmured her awkward apology and touched his uneasy brow. “It was horrible for you, wasn’t it?”
Daniel hated the question. She could tell by his silence. And that was how she knew…
“It was far too close, Nora. Are we fools to do this?” He turned toward her with a plea in his eyes. “Do we carry on? How can I let you go back into such danger?”
Nora pictured Magdalena and knew what her mentor would say. If only she could be as convincing. She dipped intoa deep well at the center of herself, drawing up a bucket of unshakable certainty.
“Whatever comes, we keep our post. We didn’t choose this work because we were curious or restless. We are called to this.” Nora ran her thumb over his warm hand. “We stay.”
