Sons of an Ancient Glory (49 page)

As Lewis listened to Evan's account of his concern for a little boy in his singing group—Billy Hogan—he was struck, not for the first time, by the man's obvious commitment to his work with the underprivileged children of Five Points.

Evan took an interest in every member of his singing group, and it was no secret around the Five Points that “the Britisher,” as many referred to him, had done some fine things with the boys, in addition to teaching them to sing. Half a dozen or more—including the little Hogan boy—had learned to read because of Evan's willingness to spend hours teaching them. The boys had developed an evident dedication to their group and to their director as well. Their eagerness, combined with Evan's tireless efforts and striving for excellence, had eventually molded them into a performance choir of real skill and accomplishment.

Evan had turned out to be an extraordinary musician, Lewis mused, and not only in his capacity as director. The man spent hours each week arranging music for the boys, even writing some original works of his own. His latest venture was the formation of a band for some of the older boys who resisted singing, now that their voices were undergoing change. With the help of Alice Walsh—a bit of a surprise, Mrs. Walsh, considering her snake of a husband—Evan was in the process of putting together a sizable new group that resembled some of the military bands.

The man's talents were considerable, Lewis thought, but his character was nothing less than noble. Evan was a gentleman, a devout Christian, a devoted husband and father, and a most efficient assistant. But he was beginning to see signs of overwork and fatigue in him. There simply didn't seem to be enough hours in the day for the man to accomplish what he felt called to do.

Lately, Lewis had begun to despair of keeping Evan in his employ much longer. For some time now, Lewis had sensed God working in new ways in the young Englishman's life, grooming him, preparing him for…something, although he hadn't a clue as to what that
something
might turn out to be. In fact, he wasn't at all sure that Evan himself recognized as yet the moving of the Divine Hand on his life. But that he would respond when the time came, Lewis had no doubt. None at all.

In light of this, he was already attempting to resign himself to the fact that one day, perhaps soon, he would lose Evan from the business. He also predicted that when the time came,
he
would have to be the one to cut the ties, for Evan was loyal to a fault. No doubt the man would go on as long as humanly possible, and exhausting himself in the process.

Determined to avoid that very situation, Lewis had already asked the Lord to make him sensitive to the time…and unselfish enough to make the first move in Evan's behalf.

That afternoon, when Evan entered Dr. Grafton's office in Manhattan, he found the waiting room crowded with patients. There wasn't even a vacant chair.

It was nearly four before the doctor spied him and called him in.

“I apologize for the wait, Evan,” Nicholas Grafton said, ushering him into his office. “And for missing you yesterday.”

Evan hesitated only a moment before taking the doctor's outstretched hand. The American custom of handshaking still caught him unawares now and then, but he no longer found the convention quite as uncivilized as he once had.

As he sat across the desk from Nicholas Grafton, his apprehension grew. He had been decidedly anxious about this meeting ever since the doctor had sent word requesting it. His worry about what he might hear—combined with his concern for little Billy Hogan—had given him another sleepless night. The effects of going without rest and being unable to consume more than a few bites of his breakfast had left him feeling drained and slightly faint.

Dr. Grafton got right to the point. “I expect you know I want to talk with you about Nora,” he said, leaning forward in his chair and folding his hands on top of the desk. “You've been concerned about her for some time now—and so have I.”

Drawing in a deep, steadying breath, Evan nodded.

“Yes, well, I've found some things during my last two examinations that I wanted to discuss with you.”

The physician's obvious reluctance to continue set off a painful hammering of Evan's heart. He clenched his hand, and, finding it clammy, wiped it on his trouser leg.

Nicholas Grafton regarded him with a studying look, his expression grave. “I'm afraid Nora is very ill, Evan. There seems to be a problem with her heart.”

Panic rushed up inside Evan, taking his breath. He felt suddenly lightheaded. “Wh-what sort of a…a problem?”

Dr. Grafton didn't answer right away, but sat looking at his hands. Finally he expelled a long breath. “When someone has been through as much as Nora has,” he began, “it's not surprising that there would be certain…consequences.” He glanced up. “She survived a famine, after all—and an ocean crossing that seems to be taking countless lives every month. And if that weren't enough, there's the scarlet fever and a difficult pregnancy—that's a great deal for any human being to go through…and survive.”

Their eyes met. Evan's throat tightened at the kindness and compassion in Nicholas Grafton's gaze.

“What I'm trying to tell you, Evan, is that Nora's heart has taken a great deal of punishment and has apparently been damaged in the process.”

Stricken, Evan tried to ask his questions, but found himself unable to speak as the import of the doctor's words washed over him.

He had known…at least he had feared…that there was something seriously wrong. He had suspected it for some time now, but managed not to face it, at least most of the time.

“Evan?”

Evan looked at the doctor.
Don't tell me anything more…I don't want to know the rest…I don't want to know…

“Evan, listen to me. I'll not minimize the seriousness of Nora's condition—”

Evan held his breath, staring out the window directly behind Nicholas Grafton. The late afternoon light was weak and fading quickly, as if the sun could not wait to go down. The room had gone cold, and Evan shivered.

“—but I don't want to paint an excessively dark picture for you. Nora is ill, but not without hope.”

Evan's eyes shot back to the doctor, who nodded reassuringly and went on. “There's a specialist right here in the city I want Nora to see: Dr. Mandel. Abraham Mandel. He's quite a fine physician and specializes in diseases of the heart. He'll see Nora as soon as next week if you want.”

Struggling to control his fear, Evan gripped the arm of the chair. “Does…does N-Nora know about this?”

Dr. Grafton shook his head. “I haven't talked with her about it yet, no. But I think she knows she's ill. My guess is that she's trying to keep it from you.” He looked at Evan and smiled faintly. “I'm sure it's no secret to you that Nora doesn't like to worry anyone, especially you.”

Evan nodded. “She's awfully g-good at keeping her troubles to herself,” he said. His eyes stung as he looked away.
Oh, Nora…Nora…my dearest heart, you must be frightened…
so
very frightened…yet you haven't said a word.…

“My thought was to talk with you first,” the doctor explained. “Perhaps, if you like, I'll come by on Monday evening and we'll tell her together.”

Again Evan nodded, turning his gaze back to the doctor. “You said she's very ill.
How
ill? Please—tell m-me the truth.”

“My feeling is that with proper care and whatever treatment Dr. Mandel might recommend, we can keep this from getting worse,” Dr. Grafton told him. “What I suspect is that Nora's heart muscle has been weakened from all the strain that's been put on it. I also think there might be a problem with at least one of the heart valves. That's why I want Abraham Mandel to examine her—he'll be able to isolate the problem more accurately than I can.”

Finally, Evan was beginning to draw some deep breaths. “You m-mentioned proper care?”

Dr. Grafton nodded. “She's going to require absolute rest. Bed rest for a while, then a full-time regime of proper nutrition, no exertion, and extended rest. Now, I know how difficult that can be for a young mother with children and a house to take care of—and an infant to look after.” He looked directly at Evan. “If you can manage it, get her some full-time help right away. The sooner the better. Someone to take care of the house and help with the baby. I can't emphasize that enough.”

He paused, then added, “It just might save her life.”

Standing in front of Nicholas Grafton's office, a solemn, unpretentious stonefront building just off Broadway, Evan looked out on the Astor House Hotel. Guests hurried in and out of the opulent building, some looking eager to get out of the gray November chill, others laughing and expectant as they climbed into hackney cabs.

He was badly shaken, his entire body in a tremble. He found it almost impossible to think what to do. His inclination was to forget everything and get home to Nora as swiftly as possible. He wanted to hold her, to hold her close and never let her go.

A wave of overwhelming anguish swept through him as his mind relentlessly continued to repeat his conversation with Nicholas Grafton. He felt as if at any moment fear and despair would overwhelm him, even paralyze him. Yet he knew he dared not give in to the fear, could not afford to dwell on what
might
happen, but must somehow force himself to consider what could be done…now, right now…to make a difference.

Evan had not known such oppression, such stark terror, since the night of Teddy's birth, and, before then, the time Nora had lain in the hospital, stricken with scarlet fever. On both occasions, he had feared he would lose her, and the possibility had very nearly destroyed him.

But he
hadn't
lost her, he reminded himself. She had survived. God be thanked, Nora had survived not only serious illness, but a number of other horrors that could have just as easily claimed her health, her sanity, or even her life.

Somehow he had to do everything possible
—everything
—to make sure she survived this latest peril as well. Nora must have whatever it would take to make her strong and whole again, and he would see to it…with the Lord's help…that she did.

But how? Specialists…medicines…household help—it would all take money, money they didn't have. How would they manage?

Again he swallowed down the panic clamoring to paralyze him. He couldn't worry about the money, not now. Nothing else mattered but Nora. He couldn't lose her…he simply could not lose her…he would think about nothing but Nora. Nothing.

He realized he was wheezing and tried to ignore it. His always weak lungs never failed to react at the first sign of a crisis. Struggling to breathe deeply, he willed his pulse to stop its thunderous race. It wouldn't do to have to go back inside and let the doctor treat
him.

One thing at a time
, he told himself firmly, ignoring his labored breathing and struggling to find a measure of calm. Next week Nora would see the specialist—Dr. Mandel. Before then, he would speak with Mr. Farmington—and Sara, too—to ask their help in locating a girl for service as soon as possible. He was sure Aunt Winnie, bless the woman, would help until he could find someone else.

Staring across the street, he was aware of the scene at the Astor House only in the vaguest way: the scramble of carriages, the elegantly attired men and women, laughing as they hurried on along. They appeared so light-hearted, so utterly carefree. For a moment, Evan couldn't help wondering what that sort of life might be like—a life spent in coming and going from one festivity to the other, a life without worries or fears or burdens.