He seemed to Alice to be quite invested in helping her to understand the steps involved in his diagnostic process. Perhaps, she thought, having her as an audience was helping him to clarify things to himself. She felt the baby kick and shifted her weight.
“It seems,” Birdsong continued, “that since the city improved the water and sewage systems, culverted and paved over some of those open drains through the streets, thanks, by the way, to female property owners having the inordinate means to vote on that . . . Did you know that, Alice? The women voted! Yes, it happened! Isn’t that extraordinary! The more I think about the prospect of female suffrage, the more committed I become to the cause. Well, I digress. At any rate, thanks to the vote of the women, we have a much cleaner city and far, far fewer instances of typhoid fever. I sound as if I’m giving you a lesson in medicine, Alice.”
Alice nodded, fascinated at this man, who spoke to her as an equal. Howard had never deigned to speak to her in such a way. In fact, he had not spoken much to her at all, and his silence had sometimes been stifling.
“Or history. Or the social sciences. Well, enough now.”
But he did not stop. Alice tried to take in both the critical information he was conveying with regard to Constance’s condition and the fact that this man was treating her as an intelligent equal. The baby was quite active now, and Alice massaged her upper abdomen.
“That’s why you were asking about the water. And washing the food.”
“Yes. And isolating you and the children from Constance. Even Analee from you three, since she will remain exposed while taking care of Constance. You are expecting, and the girls are so young. We can’t have any of you ill, if we can avoid it.”
Alice followed him as he stepped to the stairway. Neither she nor the children could risk being endangered with exposure, yet she was loath to think of Analee coping alone at such a critical time. And deeply indebted to Constance after all she had done for her.
“Has she been able to take the salicylic acid?”
“I believe so. But you must ask Analee to be sure.”
“And tolerating it?”
“Again, Doctor, I believe so. But only Analee has been with her. She and I speak to one another from opposite ends of the hallway, but it is not always the most efficient means of exchanging information.”
“Yes, of course. Has she developed a rash?”
“I’m sorry, Doctor, I—”
“No, Alice.” He scratched at the part in his hair and ran his fingers back through it. “It is I who am sorry. I’ve been unduly anxious, as you can imagine. Constance is one of the dearest friends I have. We go back to our early childhood, you know? I remember the first time we met. We were playing with a group of children in the park. A game of tag. I tagged her, and she turned and tagged me right back before I could get away. She was fast, that girl.”
“Yes, I know about your lifelong friendship. Of course, you are preoccupied with her recovery, Doctor. I understand.” She thought how brief her own time with Constance had been in comparison to his. A lifelong friendship. The very thought was foreign to her.
He stood with his foot on the first step, holding the rail with one hand, his bag in the other. “Forgive me, Alice. I should be asking after you. Are you well?”
“Quite well.”
“The girls?”
“Indeed. We have set up an efficient little hospital for the dolls. Their nursing staff is superior. You would be quite impressed.”
Birdsong chuckled. “Perhaps I’ll step in to inspect the facilities before I leave. Thank you for understanding my preoccupation. I will make every attempt to be more aware of your own situation, Alice.”
Alice watched him mount the steps and turn the corner at the landing. His footsteps echoed in the stairwell.
*
The typhus lasted another ten days. No one else in the house became ill, but Martin Birdsong insisted on maintaining the semi-isolation of his patient and Analee. Slowly, Constance regained her strength, sitting up, taking a few steps, then a few more, until finally she was able to walk down the hallway and, with the doctor’s permission, greet her girls.
Delia and Maggie were constantly anxious to see their mother. Though Alice kept them thoroughly entertained—playing dolls, taking walks, teaching them rudimentary embroidery stitches, and reading bedtime and naptime stories—they missed their mother sorely. When Alice had told them to be ready for a surprise that afternoon, the girls had jumped up and down and guessed everything from cookies to paper dolls to a new puppy. Their excitement was palpable when Alice announced it was time for them to face the window and close their eyes. They expected that on the count of three, they would open their eyes to some wonderful new thing below them in the yard, like that new puppy they had set their hearts on. Instead, they heard their mother’s voice at the door behind them, where Analee supported her. When she called their names, they turned in wild joy, dashed to her, grabbed her around the legs in exuberant hugs. It was all Constance could do to stay on her feet: she clutched the doorjamb for balance while Analee supported her from behind. Alice ran over to warn the children to be careful with Mama.
“You well now, Mama?”
“You tired, Mama. You been working so hard to get well.”
“Maybe you need to come play.”
“Can we have a picnic now, Mama?”
With warnings from Alice and Analee, the girls began to calm themselves. Constance held on to Analee’s arm for support while entering the playroom and for stabilization while sitting in the low rose rocker. The girls busied themselves for a good quarter hour regaling her with enthusiastic stories of their adventures since she had disappeared into the sickroom. They rattled out their sentences in tandem, interrupting one another, finishing each other’s thoughts, their heads bobbing back and forth for verification and agreement. Constance’s strength began to flag, and the girls vacillated between concern that their mama was too tired, playing nurse to her the way they had to their dolls, and disappointment that she needed to leave again so soon, but they were comforted by the promise that they would get to see her every day now.
As the days passed and the buds of spring burst into full bloom, so, too, did Constance seem to flourish. Her cheeks regained their normal blush. Her steps grew steadier and more assured. She ventured down the stairs and ultimately out of doors, to sit in a wrought-iron lawn chair and watch the girls at play. Martin Birdsong still came daily, often late in the day now. Late enough to stay for supper when invited, which was often. With his presence, the little group of women and the two girls began to settle in with one another, almost as a sort of family, comfortable and secure with one another.
CHAPTER 46
Late on a Monday afternoon, Officer Pulgrum knocked at the door. Analee answered and showed him into the backyard, where the adults were watching the girls at play.
At the sight of him, Constance felt light in her head. Her pulse raced, and her breath seemed to break in her chest. One hand clutched the hand Analee extended to her; the other clasped the collar of her shirtwaist.
He has come for me at last. Constance perceived, but only barely, the firm grip of Analee’s hand on hers. She attempted to rise but found her legs too weak beneath her. She felt Alice’s hand on her shoulder, pressing her gently down. She collapsed back into the chair, unable to speak. But her breath had returned of its own accord.
“Afternoon, Pulgrum. Beautiful day.” Martin Birdsong was taking control of the situation for her. “Mrs. Halstead is just recovering from a serious bout with typhus. Still doesn’t have much strength, I’m afraid. Can we be of assistance here?”
“Afternoon, Doctor. Typhus? Haven’t heard much about such of late. Have I missed news of an outbreak somehow?” Pulgrum doffed his cap and scratched his lank brown hair.