When the doctor brushed past me, he had mumbled an apology before reaching to flick on the overhead light.
I had raised the handkerchief up to my face.
At once, Susan grabbed the stack of paperwork from the stand next to the bed. Mrs. Claxton snatched my arm and hooked it into hers.
“Where’s our mother-to-be, Nurse?” the doctor inquired again, perplexed by the empty bed. He signaled with a questioning brow toward the washroom door.
“No, Doctor, I’m sorry to say, the patient was found deceased at 3:11. There is no next of kin, and I’ve informed the proper authorities. The body’s been transported to the Eastern Cemetery’s crematory. You’ll remember this is Mrs. Claxton, who’s been here throughout the night, and another friend, Mrs. Moffit, we had down for a contact. I was just giving them directions to the crematory.”
“Is there no Mr. Lovett?” he asked.
“Unwed,” she said, barely above a whisper.
“I see.” He wrinkled his nose in disapproval.
I squeezed the handkerchief, choking back the panic.
“Here are my nurse’s notes, sir.” Susan took the clipboard from the puzzled doctor and handed him a new one with papers. The doctor studied the chart, a grimace lengthening his face.
Susan turned and gave a curt nod, and I tucked my chin down lower. “I’ve bagged her clothing, ladies. It’s there in the chair. Again, I’m so very sorry. I’ll telephone the newspaper so they will properly record it.” She touched Mrs. Claxton’s arm in sympathy. “I know how difficult this news is. I hope you’ll find comfort in the chapel at the crematory.” To the doctor she said, “Sir, we have two patients who were just admitted an hour ago and are waiting. One appears to have a fractured tibia, and the other is complaining of stomach pains and nausea.”
Silence.
I plucked at the dampening fabric of my blouse, the perspiration sticky on my chest. Terrified the blue would start oozing out, I folded my hands under my armpits.
“Dr. Samuels?” Susan’s words rose, strained.
The doctor scratched his head and peered at the chart again. “Could be, given her genetic disorder, her brain was robbed of oxygen after the head trauma.”
Susan pressed the stack of papers to her chest, brushed past us to the man’s side.
Startled by her sudden moves, I squeezed my eyes shut.Would my color burst through and betray me?
Mrs. Claxton placed a steady hand on my shoulder, then pulled me into a hug, shielding my face from his view.
Had the color returned?
“Sir, if you’ll step out to the nurses’ station with me, I’ve got your morning paperwork ready for signature, including Mrs. Lovett’s death certificate and the crematory papers. There’s the other delicate matter. Mrs. Hancock in 209 has asked if you could take special care of her baby’s birth certificate…”
She dropped the last words and left me straining to hear as I pressed my face into Mrs. Claxton’s shoulder and then dared to peek out.
“Doctor, I know you’ve got a busy schedule ahead, but it shouldn’t take more than a minute, and then I can get your paperwork filed.”
He sighed as he read his clipboard. “Okay. My sincere condolences, ladies.” He barely glanced at us but turned back, drawn to my one hand poking out from Mrs. Claxton’s embrace.
My legs wobbled. Mrs. Claxton fumbled and clutched me tighter, squeezed once, twice, and then again, a warning to still.
But I couldn’t calm the thoughts churning inside. The fear pummeled me, and I fought against the blackness that would surely swallow me any second.
I was certain the color would climb out screaming, denouncing my fakery and lies. Squeezing my eyes shut, I prayed for Pa to watch over me—begged for the strength needed to save the babe’s life.
Susan said, “Ladies, we’ll just give you a moment of privacy. Again, you have the hospital’s sincere sympathies.”
She moved closer to the doctor, gesturing to the door. “We released Mrs. Allen in 324. Mr. Faber in room 226 needs an X-ray, and Johnson in 221 is waiting for release,” Susan chatted feverously, inching him toward the hall, the terror mounting with each shallow breath.
Then he cast his eyes to the nurse and tsked through clenched teeth. “I don’t know what I’d do without you, Nurse Landers. You must be beat after working another twelve-hour shift.” He adjusted the glasses on his nose, grunted, and followed her out to the nurses’ station.
For a minute, we stood paralyzed on the threshold with our knees locked, watching while the doctor bent his head to Susan’s paperwork and scribbled a signature, breezing through papers.
