Apparently, your nausea has improved, the doctor observed.
She gave a quick nod. I’m not seeing as many of the strange things anymore.
The spider is finally gone? Alastair asked. .
No, but he’s the size of a mouse now. At least the world’s the right color for a change.
I don’t understand, he said, face drifting into a frown.
Cynda gave a quick look around; their fellow patrons seemed to be involved in their meals or dinner companions. She leaned across the table, lowering her voice.
When you travel as much as I do, you see all sorts of odd things. Eventually, the hallucinations don’t go away.
Then what will you do? he asked, leaning toward her, a spoonful of soup forgotten in his hand.
I have to quit. When sleep doesn’t clear the weird things, it’s time to find another job. Just what might that be…
The nausea is part of this travel-related illness?
Oh, definitely, along with the need for chocolate and… She paused and then added, and other things.
His eyebrow rose while the spoon continued its belated journey to his mouth. After delivering its contents, he set it down.
Then I owe you an apology, of sorts.
For what?
I had thought you were…enceinte.
Cynda frowned. The word sounded familiar. Meaning? she said.
He cleared his throat, dabbed at his mouth and whispered, With child.
Oh. She burst into a grin. No way. Not an option with my job. Traveling does nasty things to little growing people.
I see.
The solar bulb went on. You thought Chris was the father, didn’t you?
A stern nod. I was intending to speak to him about his…duty to you.
That’s sweet, she said. And so old-fashioned. Fortunately, we’ve dealt with that sort of thing. We have babies only when we want to.
Pity we don’t have that ability, though I suspect the government would never allow it. They don’t seem to understand that most of the poverty in the East End could be averted by reducing the birth rate.
You’re quite enlightened for your time, she said.
A stern look. I trust you’re not patronizing me.
No, just stating a fact.
The plate of roast beef arrived. As she cut a sizeable hunk and put it on her plate, along with the roasted potatoes and a warm slice of bread, the doctor watched her every move.
Why are you staring? she asked.
I was just wondering what you will do when you can no longer travel.
She sighed. That’s the problem. I don’t know anything else.
Is it possible you might become stranded during one of your…sojourns? he asked.
God, I hope not, she said, wondering where that question had come from.
You once said you’d never found a place that felt like home.
She resumed eating. The conversation was getting too close for comfort. Maybe he’d let it drop.
Jacynda? he asked, his voice polite, but insistent.
No, I’ve never felt at home. That’s why I travel. The closest I’ve come was Pompeii.
A slow nod, as if he were thinking something through.
Perhaps you will change your mind, he said.
Miracles do happen. Why is he so curious?
The one glass of wine made Jacynda giddier than Alastair would have preferred. As they walked toward the boarding house arm-in-arm, he found she possessed a rich singing voice, though he couldn’t quite understand the song’s lyrics—something to do with tulips and the act of tiptoeing through them. When he complimented her on it, she gave a slight bow and nearly toppled over. He tucked his arm around her waist.
You don’t drink often, do you?
No, hardly at all. Traveling intensifies the alcohol’s effect. One glass equals… She waved a hand to indicate infinity, narrowly missing a lamppost.
Then why did you—
Had to honor Chris, she said resolutely. He would have done the same for me.
Eventually, she fell silent, an unnerving change from her earlier frivolity. He’d tried to engage her in conversation, but to no avail. By the time they reached her room and she fumbled to unlock the door, his concern had grown.
Jacynda?
She turned toward him, her bottom lip quivering. He could see the glint of tears in the dim light.
Alastair took both her hands and gave them a light squeeze.
He’s in God’s hands now.
She blinked rapidly to try to forestall the tears. I realized that I’ll never know if we had a future together. Then she was gone, the door closing behind her. He heard the squeak of the bedsprings, and then quiet sobs.
Alastair retraced his steps to the street. He had no words of comfort, no healing balm he could apply to Jacynda’s heart. If there were a remedy, he would have readily offered it.
And prescribe a liberal dose for myself.