“Iwasher favorite. You didn’t see her yesterday. I chose you over her, and she felt it keenly.” He’d told her about his father and aunt making their terrible appearance at the hospital, but she hadn’t realized how deeply it affected him until his dark eyes dropped from hers.
“I’ll go apologize.” Nora squared her shoulders, pretending a courage she didn’t possess. “I’ll find a way to win her over.”
Daniel raked a hand through his carefully combed hair. “Nora, she’s firmly on the other side. Adams is her friend and personal physician. We’ve lost this one.”
Nora studied the two feet of emptiness between them. She’d already sacrificed too much to this argument. Courage might fail her, but stubbornness never did. “I’ll find a way.”
***
Nora shortened her steps so she wouldn’t miss the rare dapples of sunlight playing through the last bright leaves of the year. She hadn’t walked a park on Sunday in too many weeks to count, but her steps fell quietly on the lawn of Green Park as Daniel stepped beside her, his sleeve brushing hers.
“One boy in a family of nine shows no symptoms. Why?” Daniel hid frustration well, but Nora heard it under his controlled words. He’d spent all morning in Lambeth, trying to pry a large family from cholera’s ruthless claws.
“Perhaps he’s like me and had it before?”
“One of the daughters looks like a miniature version of Julia. I can’t stand the thought.”
At the mention of Julia, Nora turned away. She’d performed the promised examination Friday. She tried to quell the memory of Julia waking, confused and groggy, demanding answers before she fully knew where she was. Nora had stalled, telling her they’d discuss it when Julia could sit up and gather her thoughts, but she had clutched Nora’s sleeve, refusing to wait.
“What did you find?” she’d demanded. “Can I have children?” Her eyes had managed to bore into Nora’s soul for a moment before they rolled back from the effects of the ether.
Nora blinked, returning to the dry leaves littering the park lawn. She couldn’t relive the crushing despair on Julia’s face when she’d told her.
“I hope your patient pulls through,” she told Daniel, silently wishing the same for Julia. Her loss and her oppressed mood were as worrisome to Nora as any named disease. And Juliahadn’t wanted Nora to confide in any of the men, so for now, the two of them bore the heavy secret alone.
“How do you feel?” he asked softly, without any jagged edges of criticism. His eyes dropped to her abdomen.
She drew in a breath of relief. “Nothing as bad as cases I’ve treated.”
Daniel grinned at the good news. “And you’ve treated so many. I’ve almost adjusted to your flock of midwives following you like the students follow Horace.”
“The students follow you now, too,” Nora corrected.
He nodded modestly and moved on, never one to linger on praise. “I’ve been trying to share the news from Bart’s with you since yesterday, but I haven’t had the chance until now. Last night we were occupied discussing the midwives and a lecture—”
“News?” Her arms stiffened as she braced herself.
“Adams made a fool of himself yesterday when one of his students inverted a uterus and nearly killed a woman. Right there in Bart’s.”
“The entire uterus?” She’d seen small prolapses, but never that. “Did you have to remove it?”
Daniel recounted the incident with the vivid detail she loved, stopping frequently as she posed questions or rattled off exclamations of disbelief in Italian. When he finished, she’d forgotten the stinging chill of the autumn air and their recent arguments.
“Ruth would never have made such a mistake!” Nora declared, pleased by the agreement in Daniel’s face.
“The papers are going to sensationalize the murder trial of that fraudulent midwife, but at least now we have an accountof a medical student making a dangerous error,” he said. “That should give you a bit of ammunition, should they fire shots at your midwives.”
Nora couldn’t remember the last time relief flooded her. The warmth expanded her lungs, as if she hadn’t truly breathed in weeks. “Does this mean you agree with me on the petition?” she asked cautiously.
Daniel laced his fingers together. “We need standards. And we need teachers like you.” His voice dropped and his small smile fell away. “The myriad of things that can go wrong…”
Most days, they could walk through the tragedies with a grim and factual acceptance, but on this cold October Sunday, reality fell as lifeless and smothering as the leaves around them.
“What if you get sick and I can’t save you?” Daniel asked quietly.
A stiff wind pushed between them, fluttering her lace collar. “I wonder the same about you,” Nora admitted.
Sunlight speckled his face as relentless thoughts marched over his forehead. He cleared his throat, fighting visibly for whatever he meant to say.
