The Christmas Eve Letter: A Time Travel Novel (16 page)

“I am glad to hear it!  Very glad to hear it.  Please excuse the late hour and my dress.  I just came from the theatre.”

He unbuttoned his coat.  Across his vest hung a heavy gold chain with a watch on the end tucked into his vest pocket.  He clicked the watch open and checked the time.

“It is even later than I thought.  Nonetheless, if you would permit it, I would like to examine you.” 

Eve sat up and braced her back against two pillows.  Dr. Eckland found an upholstered chair and drew it up next to her.  After he took her wrist to check her pulse, she casually asked her first question.

“Are you married, Dr. Eckland?”

“I was.  My wife is deceased.  Five years now.”

“I am sorry to hear it,” Eve said.  “Do you have any children?”

“I have a daughter and a son.  My daughter is about your age.  She is married, living in Chicago.  My son is an adventurer, I guess you might say.  He moved to San Francisco two years ago.  I have not seen him since, although he does write now and then.”

“What type of work does he do?”

“He builds marbleized mantels and sells stoves and ranges.  He says business is booming out there.  I guess he’s amassing a small fortune.  He says San Francisco will be larger than New York someday.”

Dr. Eckland released her wrist.  “Your pulse is strong and normal, Miss Kennedy.  How is your diet?  Have you been eating?”

“Yes, although I am not so fond of mutton.”

“Mutton is good for you.  Eat it.  It will give you strength.”

Eve tried to think of a smooth transition into the next subject.  “Dr. Eckland, in my travels today, I heard someone speak about tuberculosis.  The woman said her sister had it.”

His voice deepened.  “Tuberculosis?  Well, of course I have seen my share of it as a doctor, as well as scarlet fever and smallpox.”

“Where would a woman in New York go for treatment, if she had tuberculosis?”

Dr. Eckland took this in, with a little nod.  “If the woman is from a good family, they would see to her care, of course.  Perhaps they would employ a private nurse or she would be sent to Davos, Switzerland or Saranac Lake, New York.  Rest in the open air is of paramount importance.  There are special houses and cabins built to allow easy access to the outdoors.  Of course going away causes a long separation from home and family so it can be a hardship.  And the financial cost is a consideration.”

“What if the woman doesn’t have much money?” Eve asked.  “What if she cannot afford to go away?”

“Well then, that is a different matter.  She might be admitted to the Knickerbocker Hospital here in Manhattan.  It is a fully equipped hospital.”

“Where is that?”

“It is located on Convent Avenue and 131st Street in Harlem.  It serves primarily poor and immigrant patients and it is the only general hospital north of Ninety-Ninth Street.  During the war, it served as a temporary Civil War tent facility for returning Union Army invalids.  I offered my services to some of those poor fellows in those dreadful days.”

Dr. Eckland took a handkerchief from his rear pocket and dabbed at his forehead.  “Those are not good memories for me, Miss Kennedy.  I saw many a brave man die there.  Many a good and brave man.”

“I am sure they benefited from your skill and kindness, Dr. Eckland.”

He replaced the handkerchief, shaking his head.  “My skills were often not good enough, I am afraid, but I did my best.  I rest at night confident that I did my best.”

Eve saw him grow sullen as he reflected.

“Dr. Eckland, are there any hospitals close by that treat patients with tuberculosis?”

“Let me think.  There is Gouverneur Hospital in the Financial District.  It serves the European immigrants on the Lower East Side.  It opened just this year.  Its original purpose was to treat accident cases; however, I learned recently that it is the first public hospital in the country to create a tuberculosis clinic.”

He pulled out his stethoscope.  “It also has a female ambulance surgeon in its employ, something I find personally questionable, but I suppose that is the way of the world these days.  But as I said, I have heard from colleagues that there are a number of female tuberculosis patients at the clinic.”

Eve let that settle for a moment, while Dr. Eckland checked her heart and lungs. 

“Dr. Eckland, how do you treat a patient with tuberculosis?”

He cleared his throat.  “Why this sudden interest in tuberculosis, Miss Kennedy?  Surely you do not think you are suffering from that dreaded disease?”

“No.  No.  Just curiosity, I guess.”

“Well, this certainly is not the usual topic of conversation for most young women.” 

He examined her throat, ears and eyes, and then his eyes quizzed her face.  “Of course, Miss Kennedy, I realize you are not like most young women I have met.”

Eve shifted nervously under his gaze.  “No?  Surely I am not so different,” she said, with a forced smile. 

Dr. Eckland breathed in.  “There is something, how do I say, uncommon about you, Miss Kennedy.  I am a lover of the theatre, and I sometimes have the keen impression that you are playing a part, and that the authentic you lies somewhere hidden behind a veil or a mask.”

Eve struggled for calm.  Was it that obvious?  Was he on to her?  “Well, I do have a curious nature, Dr. Eckland.  I admit that.  Perhaps that is what you are detecting.”

And then, before Dr. Eckland could answer, she asked again.  “So, how do
you treat tuberculosis?”

Dr. Eckland sat up a little taller, inflated by his knowledge and his desire to expound upon it. 

He lowered his voice.  “It is a terrible disease.  Highly contagious.  Transmission occurs when the patient exhales, coughs, or sneezes.  Preventing its spread has become one of the most pressing problems we face, and the primary motivation for most public health campaigns these days.  Of course we are more modern now than in the past, and we have learned many things not previously known.  For example, we now require all treating nurses and doctors to wear masks, as must all friends and relatives who come to visit.  Sanitary conditions are of vital importance.”

“Have you found any effective medications for it?”

“Medications?” Dr. Eckland repeated.  He shrugged.  “Isolation, good clean air and prevention are what is called for, Miss Kennedy.”

Eve’s head tipped to one side as she thought.  “I suppose it is always fatal?”

Dr. Eckland stared into the fire, soberly.  “Are you familiar with the writer George Sand, whose given name was Amantine-Lucile-Aurore Dupin?” the doctor asked, speaking the French name perfectly.

“No, I’m afraid not.”

“But you are familiar with Frédéric Chopin, the great composer, are you not?  Surely you have heard his
Nocturnes
?”

Eve had heard of them, maybe in her high school music appreciation class.  “Yes… I know of him.”

“Chopin died of tuberculosis in 1849.  Mademoiselle Dauroe Dupin, his, shall we say, mistress, wrote to a friend that ‘Chopin coughs with infinite grace.’  It was a sad end to a great and young composer, and it has been a sad and tragic end to many persons, Miss Kennedy, including a nephew of mine.  He died tragically from the disease at 12 years old.  It was a ghastly end, poor boy.”

“When was that?” Eve asked gently.

“In 1883.  I remember it well because the very next week I had to attend the Harringshaw costume ball.  I did not wish to, of course, but, well, the Harringshaws have been good patients of mine.  I felt it was my duty.”

Dr. Eckland shifted his eyes back to Eve.  They were sad, and Eve was touched by this.  She could see that Dr. Eckland was a sensitive man and probably as good a doctor as he could be.  This emboldened her to trust him, at least a little.

He tapped his knee, suddenly remembering something.  “Oh my, the Harringshaws are having another one of those balls on December 4
^th
.  I suppose I will have to go.  Well, yes, of course I must go.  Unfortunately, my daughter will not be in town to accompany me.  I shall have to find someone else.  Well, no matter.  Anyway, Miss Kennedy, tuberculosis is almost always a fatal disease.”

Eve lowered her eyes.  “I am sorry to hear that.”

After a brief silence, Eve turned to the doctor.  Dr. Eckland sat back, and in the gaslight, his bushy muttonchops and earnest expression gave him a professorial countenance. 

He folded his hands, his expression earnest.  “Now, how is your memory, Miss Kennedy?  Do you have any recollection as to who you are and where you came from?”

Eve smiled, nodding her head, ready with the answer.  “As a matter of fact, Dr. Eckland, I do recall something of my past.”

He leaned forward, twisting his hands, his interest sharpening.  “Please tell me, Miss Kennedy.”

“I am a nurse, Dr. Eckland.  Today, I remembered that I am a nurse.”

His voice was hesitant, low, his expression doubtful.  “A nurse?  Are you quite sure?”

“Yes, Dr. Eckland.”

“So that explains your interest in tuberculosis.  What else?  What else do you recall?”

“I am from Ohio.”

“Where in Ohio?”

“I am not exactly sure, but I know it’s Ohio.”

“Do you recall family and friends?  Perhaps you have a husband?  Surely a young woman as attractive as you, if you will permit me to say so, is married.”

Eve hesitated for a moment.  “Since I am not wearing a ring, I am sure I do not have a husband.  I feel positive about that.  As to my family, well, I can see faces, but I am not sure if they’re
my
family.  It’s still a little blurry.”

Dr. Eckland sighed.  “Miss Kennedy, this is promising.  Yes, this is very promising indeed.”

Her voice took on urgency.  “Dr. Eckland, can you help me get employment as a nurse?”

The question seemed to startle him.  “Employment?”  He glanced about the room, as if seeking the answer.  “Well, I don’t know.”

Eve inclined forward.  “I know I’m a good nurse, Dr. Eckland.  I am a very good nurse.  I know that for sure.”

“That all may be well and good, young woman, but do you have a diploma from a reputable nursing school, such as Broad Street Hospital, where I see patients?”

Eve was ready for this.  “Obviously, I don’t remember where I received my training, Dr. Eckland, but I would be happy to work for low wages until I could prove myself.”

“That is quite impossible, Miss Kennedy.”  He shook his head.  “And even if I could arrange it, how could we trust that your memory for nursing practices is intact?”

She leveled her determined eyes on him.  “Dr. Eckland, can I work with you until I prove myself?  You can watch me, study me.  You will see I am a good nurse.  I must work to earn money.  I do not want to be a burden on Miss Price or take advantage of Mr. Harringshaw’s generosity.”

“My dear Miss Kennedy, whether you are a good nurse or not is beside the point.  You need a diploma.  Surely, you must know that.  These are modern times.  We simply cannot let you practice the profession of nursing based on your word, with no credentials from a reputable institution.  I am sorry, but it is quite impossible.”

He softened his tone, offering her a reassuring smile.  “Miss Kennedy, do not worry about being a burden to Mr. Harringshaw.  He is a kind and generous man who is only too happy to support you in your time of need.”

Eve knew that was coming and she was ready for him.  She folded her arms, turning deadly serious. 

“Dr. Eckland, would you want your own daughter to accept Mr. Harringshaw’s many overtures and generosities?”

Dr. Eckland stood, abruptly, stammering to get a word out.  “Miss Kennedy, that is not seemly.  It is not a fair or an appropriate question.  It just isn’t seemly.”

“It may not be seemly, Dr. Eckland, but you know what I mean.  I want to work and find my own place.  Isn’t that what you would want for your daughter, if she were in my place?”

His mouth twitched and he blinked rapidly as he struggled for words.  “Miss Kennedy, I am heartened that you are feeling better.  Yes, very pleased and heartened.”

He turned for his medical bag and started for the door.  He reached for the doorknob, but Eve’s voice stopped him from opening it.

“Won’t you please help me, Dr. Eckland?”

He paused, only for a few moments, keeping his back to her.

“Miss Kennedy, I cannot say I am not… impressed by you.”

He turned to look at her.  “You have a good mind and a worthy ambition, for a woman, and I sense that you are in need of help.  Yes, I see all this.”

He stood there in the soft aura of firelight, avoiding her eyes.  “I will see what I can do for you, Miss Kennedy.  I cannot promise anything, but I will see what I can do.  Good evening.”

He turned and left the room.

Eve’s shoulders slumped.  What did ‘I will see what I can do’ mean?  Dr. Eckland was a kind man, she could see that, but could she wait for his help or should she seek help elsewhere? 

 “Just keep pushing,” her father used to say, “And the door will eventually open.  It never fails.”

Eve slept surprisingly well that night.  She arose early and was dressed by the time Millie knocked and entered, carrying Eve’s breakfast.  Millie looked downcast, avoiding Eve’s eyes as she set the tray down on the nearby side table, bobbed and turned to leave.

“Millie?  What’s wrong?  Are you mad at me for something?”

Millie waited obediently by the door. 

“No, Miss Kennedy.  I have a lot of work to do is all.”

“Millie, did Miss Price say something to you about me?”

“I have to go, Miss Kennedy.”

“She did, didn’t she?  How did she know we were out together?  You left the carriage a good two blocks away from the house.”

“Please, Miss Kennedy.  I don’t want to lose my job.”

“All right, Millie.  Can you do me a favor?  Can you bring me the morning paper, please?”

Millie bowed.  “Yes, Miss.”  She bowed and left.

While Eve chewed the fresh bread—which tasted better than any she’d ever eaten in the 21st century—she figured out how Helen knew she and Millie had been together the day before.  It was the shadow.  The jerk who had been following them.