John Ravenel had the grace to look abashed. “I’d thought Schuyler might have given it to you—that they’d found the necklace when they found the paintings.”
“You mean that you thought I—that you thought he—” She could feel the sweat prickling beneath her arms, spots dancing in front of her eyes. She forced herself to say the words. “You thought I was his mistress.”
Their Saturday. Their beautiful Saturday in the sunshine. The carousel. The ice cream. All of those questions about her work, her life. She’d thought it was because he was genuinely interested.
“Well, no,” John said, and Lucy could tell that he was lying. “Not his mistress, not exactly. But as his secretary . . .”
A sick feeling threatened to overwhelm her. Lucy felt as she had as a child when she’d broken into the bakery at night and gorged on the candied cherries. She’d had the same feeling then, the wild energy, followed by that horrible plunge into sickness. Except then it had been a sickness of the stomach, not the soul.
This was worse. Infinitely worse.
“That’s why.” Lucy stared up at John Ravenel, feeling as though she’d never seen him before. “That’s why you were wasting your time with me. You wanted to see what I knew. You were using me.”
Twenty-two
AUGUST 1944
Kate
I ducked into the elevator just as Dr. Greeley’s office door opened. We’d had another disastrous dinner date the previous evening where he’d spent much of the time talking about what a great catch he was while I’d been busy pushing his hand off my knee and keeping my face out of reach of his roving kisses. He’d totally missed my point, as he’d conceded that he respected me for my reticence. Apparently, he believed this was caused by a good upbringing instead of any repulsion or complete disinterest on my part.
The elevator chugged its laborious way down to the first floor, opening just in time for me to see Captain Ravenel and his fiancée walk in from the street. I hadn’t seen him alone since the night a week ago when I’d promised that I’d allow him to finish his sketch of me. It wasn’t that I was planning on reneging on my promise; it was just that every time I thought about him going back to Charleston my lungs seemed to collapse and I found myself gasping for air. I knew that was the reason I couldn’t sign his release papers, knowing there was unfinished business between us.
But if I saw him while other people were in the room, I could almost pretend that he was just another patient, just another soldier wounded in the war whom I had helped piece back together. Almost.
Happily, the new patients hadn’t yet materialized so I hadn’t had any reason to go up to the attic room. I’d prescribed exercise for Captain Ravenel to restore his strength, and Nurse Hathaway brought his chart to me so I could follow his progress. Except for a daily visit with the other doctors on our morning rounds, I hadn’t seen or spoken to him. But that didn’t mean I didn’t miss him like the winter earth missed the sun.
“Captain Ravenel. Miss Middleton,” I said formally, as if we were only passing acquaintances. I tried not to notice how handsome he looked in his olive drab Army dress uniform, his silver captain’s bars on his shoulders, his dark brown hair nearly hidden by his cap. Ribbons decorated the left breast of his jacket; a Bronze Star, a Silver Star, a European Theater ribbon. Caroline looked like an unnecessary and utterly frivolous decoration in a pale pink suit and matching hat. He gripped a cane in his right hand.
After tucking his cane under his arm, Cooper took off his hat. “Dr. Schuyler.” His eyes probed mine in open question and I looked away.
“We made it all the way to the park and back,” Caroline said, unable to hide the triumph in her voice. “He still needs the cane but Dr. Greeley said that’s normal and that in a couple of months with regular exercise, he won’t need it at all.” She squeezed Cooper’s arm, her face like a child’s on Christmas morning. “I think he’s ready to go home now.”
My chest hurt, the way it did whenever I felt like crying. I took a deep breath. “That’s very good news. I’ll consult with Dr. Greeley and determine how much longer. It will be soon, I’m sure, and his physical strength is a good sign. But the wound has to have healed completely.”
Caroline’s lips compressed, but I imagined I saw relief flit across Cooper’s face. She was about to say something when the front door flew open and Margie barged into the foyer, her face red and glowing with perspiration as if she’d run all the way from the library.
“Margie? What are you doing here? I thought we were meeting tomorrow for lunch.”
She put her hand over her heart, trying to catch her breath, and I noticed she carried a leather-bound journal.