“Oh, no.” Anna put a hand over her mouth to smother a laugh.
“It’s your fault,” Jack said. “Baldy wasn’t a good enough name, so you saddled him with another one. The results are already out of your control. So I was saying, they’re afraid that Bambina scared Baldy-Ned away, and they like him.”
“He’s very personable with the girls.”
“He’s personable with girls of all ages.”
That made her pause. “Bambina never met him before today.”
“That doesn’t seem to matter. He’s got a way of looking at young women that turns their heads. In Bambina’s case that means she’s going to go on the attack.”
“Something has to be done.”
He turned toward her. “You’re afraid that if he’s around more she’ll do what, exactly?”
Anna frowned.
“You don’t need to worry about him. He’s had a lifetime of standing up to far worse than Bambina.”
“That’s just it,” Anna said. “She’s too fragile for the kinds of games he plays.”
“Bambina. Fragile?”
She shook her head. “Never mind. I see that the male mind is not nimble enough to deal with this situation.”
“But yours is?”
“Of course. Wait,” she said, as he reached for her.
“I completely forgot to say that there was a letter from Sophie and Cap yesterday. There were separate letters for everybody, and this one for you and me. I waited to read it with you.” She leaned back to take an envelope from her bedside table. “Do you want to hear it?”
She was already opening the envelope.
Dear Anna and Jack,
We are arrived here in reasonable good health and are, I think, settled. Or as settled as we can be. I know Anna will want all the details about the clinic and treatment plan, but for the moment I will just say that I am very satisfied that Dr. Z?ngerle knows what he’s doing and has some promising ideas.
The journey was almost more than Cap could bear, and for the first two days I feared the trip was a mistake that would take a quick and unhappy end. Then on the third day he rallied, as he has done so often in the past. Now he is distinctly cranky, and what a fine thing it is to have to listen to complaints about the rug on his lap and the sound of cowbells coming from higher pastures in the night. I said I found the cowbells oddly comforting, an alpine counterpoint to the screech of the omnibuses he slept through so easily at home. That made him smile. No one here is put off by his mood, and thus he has already given up on it.
This morning we sat on a wide balcony overlooking the mountains and valley below, the air cool and refreshing and the sun mild enough to be pleasant. I was reading aloud from a newspaper, when I realized that he had fallen asleep. He looked no older than seventeen, one arm thrown up over his head and his face turned away from me.
For one moment I thought he had gone. That he had slipped away without a word of farewell, and I sat struck dumb. I remember thinking I shouldn’t begrudge him a peaceful end to such a terrible and drawn-out illness, but in my heart I was so angry at him for going without me. Then he stirred, and my heart began to beat again.
Now, many hours later, I realize that this trip is as much for me as it is for him. I am learning what it will be like, and when it does happen, I think I will be able to bear it.
This letter was meant to offer you the kind of comfort I took from the day’s events. I hope I have succeeded.
Tomorrow or the next day I will write with more details. In the meantime ask the girls about their letter. They have a story about a cow in the garden and the very, very ugly dog who sits next to Cap at every opportunity, tail thumping hopefully for the tidbits Cap gives him.
We are together, and content to make the most of the time left to us in this beautiful place.
With great affection and love from both of us.
Your Sophie and Cap
Postscript. Cap instructs me to say that he wants news of the Campbell situation, gossip from Waverly Place, and a report on how you find marriage. I just want to know that you are happy.
36
ON FRIDAY MORNING Jack asked Anna over breakfast if there was a difficult case that was robbing her of sleep. It was true that she was sleeping badly, but she had made every effort to keep her restlessness to herself.
“Nothing so worthy,” she told him. She thought for a moment and chose her words carefully. “Life is so full, it feels like a waste of time to be sleeping.”
“What we need is a rainy Saturday,” he said. “With no chance of being called out on an emergency. You might remember then how nice it can be to spend time in bed. I could remind you.” He waggled both brows at her.
She made a face at him. “You’re not talking about sleeping.”
“I am. Maybe not exclusively, but sleeping—” He stopped and smiled widely. “In between.”