David nodded as he withdrew the microscope from its case. “I want to be a surgeon, not a physician. Physicians only advise people. Surgeonsfixthem.”
If Joseph’s father was insulted, he did not defend himself. He only asked Joseph to anchor one end of the folding screen so he could pull it open.
David muttered: “They won’t let me watch.”
“Three men staring at my daughter’s breast are quite enough,” Joseph’s father reasoned with his usual misplaced levity.
“But I don’t care that it’s her breast!” the boy persisted. “After Dr. Mortimer removes it,thenmay I?—”
“David.” His grandfather’s face was grave now. “Try and see this from your aunt’s perspective.”
Chastened, if still disappointed, the boy dropped his gaze. “Yes, sir.”
“Whether you become a physician or a surgeon, you must think of your patient, not only her disease.”
Father Baker called Joseph into Hélène’s bedchamber to assist with Viaticum and Extreme Unction. Liam, Tessa, and Joseph’s mother joined them for the prayers, with Clare offering her own cooing accompaniment. Following the last “Amen,” Father Baker gave Joseph leave to remain with his family as long as they needed him, then departed.
Hannah appeared from somewhere to ask: “Should I take Clare now, Miss Tessa?” Joseph supposed the surgeons did not want any sudden noises startling them while they had knives in their hands.
“Let me kiss her first, for luck.” Hélène leaned over her goddaughter’s bassinet and smiled. “After all, little one, you are a living miracle. An answered prayer. The seventh child of a seventh child.”
Clare sucked her thumb with great importance.
Joseph crossed back out to the piazza to bless the operating theatre. A sheet was draped over the easy chair now, and two smaller chairs were set beside it. He knew Liam and Tessa would brave the bloody business. Someone must restrain Hélène’s arms.
Dr. Mortimer was concealing the last of his blades by laying a towel over them—to hide them from his patient, Joseph imagined. The surgeon hesitated. “Should I have left the instruments uncovered for you?”
Joseph tried to smile. “Thank you, but no. God can see them, even if I can’t.” He motioned toward the easy chair. “Why seated and not reclining?”
“Supine patients are less likely to faint,” Dr. Mortimer explained, “and that is the best bulwark we have against pain.”
“Surely you will give her laudanum?”
“Opiates are beneficial only in small doses. In large ones, they induce severe vomiting. A small dose is useless against this kind of pain. But too deep or too protracted a syncope is also dangerous. If your sister does faint, your father will be monitoring her pulse very carefully. We may be forced to revive her before we can continue.”
“So your choices…”
“Are between the Devil and the deep sea. I believe that’s why we needyou.” Dr. Mortimer left Joseph to the blessing.
At last Liam led Hélène onto the piazza. She was trembling. She wore pink slippers and a white wrapper. She embraced her husband, her friend, and her father in turn, as if drawing strength from each of them. Her mother too, though she offered only a stiff pat on her daughter’s back. When Hélène embraced May, both women had tears in their eyes.
Dr. Michaels leaned over the edge of the piazza. “We’re ready for the hot water!” he called.
Finally, Hélène slid her arms around Joseph. He pulled her close, as if he could press his chrism into her. He blessed her one final time, then kissed her forehead for good measure.
Hélène sank into the chair. Their father knelt before her as if she were an enthroned queen, only to bind her ankles to the chair legs. She squeezed her eyes shut.
Joseph could not help but recall the last time he’d seen his father restrain an innocent woman. He’d been standing on this very piazza, that terrible night he’d glimpsed his father raping his mother.
Dr. Mortimer pulled protectors over his shirtsleeves. “Remember, Mrs. Conley: we wound but to heal.”
Hélène nodded. Liam and Tessa settled uneasily on either side of her. Behind them, the cheery, fragrant blossoms of the yellow jessamine twining up the piazza columns seemed a frame for a romantic interlude, not a surgery.
Henry brought the hot water. Joseph, his mother, his nephew, and May crossed around the Chinese screen to the other end of the piazza. David took up the book he’d left on a chair, while Joseph and his mother knelt on prie-Dieus, May close beside them.
As he prayed, Joseph’s ears strained for every sound on the other side of the screen. Liam and Tessa murmured encouragement while the doctors murmured to each other.
“We’ll need samples ofbothtumors,” Dr. Mortimer said clearly.
