I squeezed the handkerchief in my clammy hands.
“You’ll see to Jackson, Mrs. Claxton?”
“I’ll get word to him when it’s safe, and to Honey also,” she added. “Give her your arm.”
“Mrs. Claxton, you would also be in danger if they find out.”
The librarian shook her head. “We went over all that.”
“But you could lose everything, and—”
“It’s my decision to make,” Mrs. Claxton said firmly.
The room quieted, lifting the loud ticks of the clock. My heart pounded, roared in my ears, almost deafening me to any other sounds.
“The doctor will be in soon,” Susan urged, darting her eyes up to the clock. “We must not tarry a second longer.”
The idea that my life could be wrapped up in a clock’s tick stole the breath from me.
I held out an unsteady arm. Mrs. Claxton helped hold it still while Susan injected me with the methylene blue.
“I’ve been careful with the dose,” Susan said, applying a tinybandage over the injection. “Just enough to hopefully keep you safe. But I can’t tell you for how long.”
Instantly, my skin turned a soft robin’s-egg blue, then white, leaving the two women gasping in disbelief.
“How do you feel?” Susan peered at me.
I’d parted my lips to utter a reply when, suddenly, a pain seized my scalp.
Susan grabbed her stethoscope and checked my heart.
“It’s exactly like I remember when Doc gave it to me long ago. Though my belly had rebelled,” I said, shaky. But just as quick, the ache went away. “It’s easing some now. I expect the pain is left over from the accident but more from my lit nerves.”
She held the glass thermometer up to my lips, then adjusted her stethoscope and listened to my heart again. Minutes later, she raised the thermometer to the dim bulb. “All good. Let me finish my notes, and then I’ll go telephone the prison and give them the official news.” Satisfied, she hovered over her paperwork.
Her hand shook a little and she grimaced and pressed down harder on the pen. “Stay in touch, Cussy, and write when you can.”
Finished, Susan hugged me, and tears streamed down my cheek as I closed my eyes and whispered, “Thank you. Thank you. Thank you…”
“Godspeed. Go give your baby its rightful place in the world.” She released her hold.
“I need to make my phone calls.” Mrs. Claxton gripped my hand. She scrutinized me once more, and a small smile latched on to her lips. “It’s working good. Real good, chile. Go have a look in the mirror.”
Grabbing my pocketbook, I crossed to the tiny washroom, anxious to glimpse the color for myself.
The man walked in, nearly bumping into me, the breeze from his white flapping coat cutting the stagnant hospital air.
Puzzled, his eyes held mine for a brief second, searching,before he pushed up the bridge of his glasses and looked back to his notes.
I spun to Mrs. Claxton to see her alarm mirroring mine.
“Okay, let’s see how you’re doing this morning, Mrs. Lovett.” He scanned the room. “Where’s our patient?” he asked, turning to the light switch.
I sucked in a small breath, know’d if the man could see in the faintly lit lamplight, he would’ve recognized the eyes he’d peered into earlier.
Would’ve found me in there.
Forty-Four
