The Christmas Eve Letter: A Time Travel Novel (23 page)

Instantaneous Cure

Price 15 Cents

Nellie Tanner entered the dining room, a nervous diminutive woman who could have been cast as an elementary school teacher in any Hollywood movie.  And, in fact, Nellie taught at an all-girls school near Madison Square, specializing in preparing her students for Vassar.  She wore a black dress with a high neck and tight sleeves that covered her arms with little white ruffles at the wrists.  Her mostly gray hair was pulled back into a tight bun.

She sat and acknowledged everyone, her back ruler-straight, her thin lips tightly compressed.

The last boarder to arrive for dinner was Thomas Finch, a clerk at the courthouse.  He was short and broad, perhaps 35, with reddish blond hair, chipped green eyes and a large mustache growing from both the upper lip and cheeks.  The whiskers from the cheeks were styled pointing upward.  Although he was not unattractive, he exposed crooked teeth when he smiled, so between the teeth and the odd mustache, he looked a little sinister.  His eyes shined noticeably brighter whenever they took in Marie, as they did now while she was systematically carving the turkey and presenting each boarder with a plateful of food. 

The conversation centered around the weather, which was cold for November; President Grover Cleveland’s rejection of several veterans’ pension bills because he believed them fraudulent; and the President’s support of the gold standard. 

Eve was impressed with her fellow boarders’ knowledge of current events, noting that they all read more than one newspaper per day.

Nellie turned to Eve.  “How do you like your new job, Miss Kennedy?  You have not spoken much about it.”

Eve didn’t know where to begin.  Although the hospital was clean and sanitary, the level of medical knowledge and procedures seemed shockingly primitive.  And while Dr. Long was a gifted doctor and surgeon, she struggled against a male-dominated profession that considered her a second-class doctor, barely worth acknowledging.

“What kinds of patients have you been seeing?” Mr. Putney asked, delicately chewing a piece of turkey. 

The boarders all lifted their eyes to Eve, waiting.

“Yesterday I saw a man who had been kicked in the head by a horse.  He survived but has lost much of his memory and some of his speech.”

“Isn’t that too bad,” Nellie Tanner said, her face set in concern.

“Just this week, Dr. Long and I have treated patients with overdoses of morphine, cirrhosis of the liver and gunshot wounds.”

“Oh my,” Marie said.  “Those poor souls.”

All eyes had widened on Eve.  They stared with keen interest, and she wondered if she was a kind of TV reality show for them.  She continued.  “Young mothers have brought their children in with scarlet fever, measles and smallpox.  Most of the children who come to us are under-fed.  They have deep coughs, ear aches, belly aches, head lice and rashes.  Two women have died in childbirth.”

“It’s a sad business,” Mr. Putney said, shaking his head.  “A very sad business indeed.  We must remember all of them in our prayers, Marie.  Yes, we must.”

Marie spoke up.  “Yes, grandfather, we shall remember them.  What about the tuberculosis patients you spoke about last week, Miss Kennedy?  Are they improving?”

Cornelius Adams’ voice was sharp.  “More importantly, are you staying clear of them?  They are highly contagious, you know.  We certainly don’t need to be worrying about that awful disease entering this house.”

Eve looked at him pointedly.  “Dr. Long has not allowed me to see them, for that very reason.  Everyone wears a mask when they enter their room, but so far there are only two nurses caring for the five patients.  I have not seen any of them.”

“Well, I am glad to hear it,” Mr. Adams said, heaving out a sigh.  “I am very glad to hear it.”

Just then the doorbell rang.  Marie pushed back her chair and left the dining room to answer it.  Minutes later, she entered the dining room, carrying an envelope.  She handed it to Eve.

“A messenger boy delivered it.  He’s waiting for your reply.  He’s so dirty.  I’m going to give him a turkey sandwich.”

Eve thanked Marie and opened it.  Meanwhile, Marie placed some turkey on some white bread and packed the sandwich down.

Eve read the message.

Miss Kennedy:  I have located Miss Evelyn Sharland.  Please keep information to yourself.  Meet me tomorrow evening at 7pm at Dorlan’s, an oyster restaurant in Fulton Market.

If you can’t meet, let the messenger know.  If you can, simply destroy this communication.

Sincerely,

Detective Sergeant Gantly

Eve stared at the message, utterly transfixed.  Marie waited for Eve to answer, but Eve didn’t stir.

“Is everything all right, Miss Kennedy?” Marie asked.

Eve was caught between excitement and dread.  Everyone at the table had stopped eating, watchful and curious, waiting for her reply.  Eve felt the heavy weight of the moment.  A hundred thoughts and emotions leapt up, nearly engulfing her.  To finally meet Evelyn was so fantastic that Eve couldn’t quite take it in.  Why hadn’t Detective Gantly told her how she was?  Was she dying?  Was she okay?

And then there was the possibility of seeing Detective Gantly again.  In the last two weeks, she’d mostly managed to push him out of her mind, knowing that her attraction to him was an unwanted complication and she shouldn’t indulge in it.  And yet, her subconscious mind wasn’t buying it.  She’d had two more dreams about him and, in the quiet moments after waking, she’d fantasized about kissing him and feeling his hands on her body. 

“Miss Kennedy,” Marie said, waiting.  “Will there be a reply?”

Eve shook awake.  She folded the message and returned it to the envelope.  She cleared her throat. 

“No, Miss Putney, there will be no reply.  Thank you.”

The dining room was quiet.  Eve could feel everyone’s eyes on her.  She must have looked strange, and she felt strange.  After all these weeks, she still did not feel a part of this time nor did she feel sure about what she would do once she met Evelyn Sharland. 

“You’re sure that everything is quite all right, Miss Kennedy?” Mr. Putney asked.

Eve forced a smile.  “Yes, Mr. Putney.”

“I hope it wasn’t bad news,” Nellie Tanner said, obviously wanting to know what was in the message.  “I so dislike bad news.  It’s so hostile to the blood and digestion.”

“No, it’s not bad exactly.  Just … a work thing.  No worries.”

“A work thing?  No worries?” Mr. Adams said.  “You have the most interesting way of expressing yourself, Miss Kennedy.  Quite entertaining.”

“Where did you say you were from?” Thomas Finch asked.

“Ohio.”

“What city?”

“You’ve probably never heard of it,” Eve said, preoccupied with thoughts of Evelyn Sharland and Detective Gantly.

“
I’m
from Ohio,” Mr. Finch said.  “A town just north of Cincinnati.  I’m sure I’ll have heard of it.”

Eve barely heard him.  “Really?  How nice,” she answered as she prepared to leave the room. 

“Please excuse me,” she said in a louder voice.  “It’s been a long day and I have a long day tomorrow.  Good night.”

Their eyes held questions, and when they went back to eating, each seemed lost in his or her own thoughts.

CHAPTER 20

Eve rushed by the coffee shops and oyster saloons of Fulton’s Market, an area crowded with well-dressed men and ladies.  She found Dorlan’s in the heart of the city’s thriving publishing industry.  It was the haunt of cub reporters, newsboys, press tycoons and famous writers.  Everyone went to Dorlan’s.

Detective Sergeant Gantly was standing by the entrance, dressed as always in his black great coat and bowler hat.  When he saw her, he put his hand to his hat in acknowledgement. 

The gas lamps threw a cone of light on the walkways, and it made the night seem a bit eerie and out of focus.  She strolled up to Detective Gantly and smiled at him, trying to suppress a blush from a mounting sexual attraction. 

“Hello, Mr. Detective,” she said, playfully.

He lifted an eyebrow.  “Mr. Detective?”

She shrugged.  “Why not?  It takes a lot of energy to call you Detective Sergeant Patrick Gantly,” she said, batting her eyelids ever so slightly. 

He watched her for a moment, showing no expression.  Then he grinned. “Shall we go inside?”

Dorlan’s was loud and crowded and swirling with cigar smoke, but Patrick Gantly led the way, pressing through the mass until he found an empty two-top wooden table in the back corner of the room.  He held a chair for Eve and she slid onto it, removing her gloves and hat.  He sat opposite, removing his hat.  He folded his hands on the table top, noticing that her blonde hair seemed to give off light and her eyes sparkled in the lamplight.

“I guess we’re eating oysters?” Eve asked.

“You can also get a slice of beef or ham and a side order of beans.  That’s what most people order.” 

Eve looked about at the yellow gaslights, and then out the windows as shadows of people moved across them.

Not being used to smoke—especially cigar smoke—Eve coughed.  “I’ll have whatever you’re going to have,” she said.

When the fat, heavy-mustached waiter came over, his white apron spotted with grease, Patrick ordered beef, ham, two side orders of beans, 12 oysters, pickles, raw onion and olives.  He ordered a beer for himself.

“I would love a beer as well,” Eve said softly.  “Possible?” 

The waiter looked at Gantly with a raised, bushy, black eyebrow.  Patrick nodded.  “Why shouldn’t you, Miss Kennedy?  In this den, no one will even notice.”

The waiter shrugged a right shoulder and retreated into the boisterous crowd.

“You have a strange appetite,” Eve said, with a hint of a grin.

He stared at her.  “How is the new job?” he finally asked.

She held his eyes.  “Thank you for that.  You ran off before I could tell you how grateful I was.  How did you manage to get the diploma?”

“Some people owed me a favor.  I collected.  That’s the way the city works, Miss Kennedy.” 

Eve propped her head up with the palm of her hand, looking at Patrick boldly.  He didn’t disengage from her stare and so they sat there, gazing into each other’s eyes.  Eve felt a strange magic envelope her, felt herself opening, as if a door had swung open and she was hovering somewhere between reality and fantasy.  Here she was in this strange world with a man that disturbed and thrilled her like no other man ever had, in any time or place.  She felt giddy and a little drunk on this guy, whose piercing eyes seemed to see into the veiled secrets of her heart.  Could he see what she was feeling?  Did he feel it? 

Eve felt a surge of intrepid feelings.  She wanted to be next to him, feel the heat of him, the man of him.  It was as if she was losing a part of her mind—the mind she had always known and had been comfortable with. 

“Why are you staring at me, Miss Kennedy?”

“I could ask you the same thing.”

“I stare because I can’t make you out.  You’re a puzzle and I can’t find all the pieces.”

“Am I a woman of mystery then, Mr. Detective?” she said, playfully.

“You are that.  But I will find you out, Miss Kennedy.  Given a little more time.”

“Where is Evelyn Sharland?” Eve asked, directly.

Detective Gantly sat back in his chair, folding his arms across his chest.  “She was living in Hoboken, New Jersey with her brother, but is now in the temporary care of a physician.”

Her eyes slid away from his steady gaze.  His words hung in the smoky air, even as she tried to take them in.  Finding Evelyn was a game changer.  It presented Eve with a new set of problems and possibilities. 

Eve raised her eyes.  “The last time we met you said you’d done all you could for me.  Thank you for this.”

“I found her because Albert Harringshaw requested it.”

Eve shot him a look of surprise and disappointment.  “I see.  So that’s the way it is.”

“No, Miss Kennedy, you don’t see and that is not the way it is.  The Harringshaw brothers are not getting along, and I am finding myself caught in the middle of something I’d rather not be a part of.  If John Allister finds out I am, for all practical purposes, working for his brother… well, let me put it this way, he has connections too.  I could easily take the fall when things get particularly dirty.  And they will get dirty, Miss Kennedy.  They always get dirty, because money is constantly changing hands in this city.  I have seen this happen to others within the department.  One detective who got tangled up with the Astors over a certain daughter he had nothing to do with, shot himself in the mouth.  I hope I’m not being too grossly inappropriate, Miss Kennedy.”

He waited for her to respond.  She didn’t.  She was still, listening intently.

“Miss Kennedy, the rich don’t give a damn one way or the other about the people who work for them.  We’re just convenient pawns to be pushed and shoved about on their broad and opulent chess board.”

Eve nibbled on her lower lip, taking it all in.  “Detective Sergeant Gantly, you do not seem like the kind of man anyone could push or shove around.”

Their mugs of beer arrived, cold with foamy heads.  He sipped his.

“I would fight, of course, but I would be defeated.”

“Why are you telling me this?” Eve asked.

He leaned forward, sliding his mug of beer aside and glaring at her.  “Because I want to know how you, certainly not a woman of his class, arranged to meet Albert Harringshaw, one of the richest and most powerful men in the country.  Why are you looking for Evelyn Sharland and what is it that you want?  I don’t believe in coincidence, Miss Kennedy.  You are plotting something and I do not want to be caught in either your trap or the Harringshaw trap.  I have repeatedly requested to be relieved of this assignment, but all my requests have been emphatically denied.  I am assuming you and Albert Harringshaw are plotting something, or maybe you’re plotting something with someone else, although I have not been able to find out who that someone else is.  Perhaps Mr. Albert Harringshaw wants to get rid of me because he does not want to owe me for his life.  I do not know the reason yet, but I warn you, if the day comes when I am disgraced and fired from my position, I will have my revenge.”