A White Room (27 page)

“Emeline?”

“What?” I snipped.

“Do you have a lot planned for the day?”

I sighed, put my pencil down, and lifted my gaze. “A bit.”

“Ah.”

I picked the pencil back up.

“Do you expect to be busy all day?”

I spoke through my teeth. “Quite likely.”

“Oh.” He pushed a piece of flapjack around in syrup with his fork.

I returned to my task. I couldn’t recall the title, but it had a blue spine and—

“I was hoping we could take a walk…”

Blue and—

“For your health.”

My head shot up.

John still pushed his food around.

“Thank you, but as I said earlier, I’m fine.”

He glanced up quickly and then back down. “No—I know. Of course.” He stabbed the little bit of flapjack and popped it into his mouth.

I returned to my thought. Blue and—

“Tomorrow?”

“John, I am fine.”

“No—I…”

“No?” I shook my head.

“No—I mean—that’s not what I meant.”

What was he doing? Trying to make conversation? Suggesting an outing? Since when did he want to do anything with me?

He sipped his coffee and shook his head. “Another day.”

I lowered my head, keeping my eyes on him in case he decided to suddenly burst out again. He didn’t.

It was too hot for the house to bother me much on Tuesday. Everything swelled and groaned in the wet heat. The air in the basement was thick and damp but still relatively cool, so I actually lingered over putting away dishes. Lottie had gone home to feed her baby, so I was surprised to hear her pounding down the steps, back so soon.

She rushed down, panting in a panic.

“What is it?”

She bent over, put her hands on her knees and huffed and puffed.

“Are you all right?”

She took a breath. “We got a problem.”

“What is it?”

“A woman,” she panted, “at my house—frantic—her husband has some horrible sickness.”

“What?”

She huffed again.

“What’s wrong with him?”

She shook her head. “No idea.”

“You didn’t ask?”

“She so frantic she just kept hollerin’, ‘Get someone over there, now, now, now!’”

“Then I should go.” I dried my hands and started toward the stairs.

Still breathing heavily, she put out her hand. “There’s a problem.”

“What?”

She took a deep breath. “Their place is across the street from Mr. Coddington’s office.”

“What?”

She nodded.

“Why can’t they go to your house?”

She shook her head. “She say he refusin’ to leave. I gather he’s hurtin’ that much.”

“I must go then, but I can’t leave the carriage across the street without Mr. Dorr or his associates noticing. Even parking down the block and slinking past is risky. His office has windows. Anyone could see.”

She took a final deep breath to end her panting. “I have an idea.”

“Do tell.”

“I read this detective book once. The bad guy aimed to go to a place when he knew the detective waitin’ for him to go there, but he tricked him by goin’ to the detective where he hidin’ and tell him he knew he there.”

“You read detective novels?”

“Yes, my favorite is some English feller Sir…sometin’ Doyle.”

“Sir Arthur Conan Doyle?”

“That the one! He got a ‘Sir’ in fronta his name ’cuz he’s so good.”

I clamped my lips together to hide my smile.

“That’s what you should do. Go on and tell Mr. Dorr you there.”

“Lottie, that’s the opposite of what we want.”

“He won’t be suspectin’ nothin’. Who in dere right mind would go on and tell someone they there right before doin’ sometin’ they ain’t supposed to do?”

“A crazy person.”

“Exactly.” She pointed at me. “He won’t think you up to nothin’, ’cuz it’s mad to go greet him first.”

“Lottie, that’s genius.”

Mr. Buck drove us to town immediately. John’s office was on one of the streets with lots of businesses. It was a white building with a gray roof and two front windows. I had never visited him and wasn’t sure if it was acceptable. Mr. Buck helped me out of the surrey, and then he helped Lottie. As soon as I walked away, Lottie was to tell Mr. Buck she needed to get something from the house across the street and go there while I set up the diversion.

I entered the office, and two men sitting at oak desks positioned opposite each other immediately stopped their work and eyed me.

“Good day,” I said.

No response.

“I’m here to see my husband, Mr. Dorr?”

One of the young men stood and disappeared into the back.

The other one eyed me suspiciously. “One moment, ma’am,” he said flatly and returned to his work.

John came out of a back room and approached with his head tilted and brow furrowed.

“Good day.” I beamed. “I was in town and thought I would come by.” I handed him a small basket with some bread, jam, and dried fruit.

“How thoughtful.” He took the basket. He smiled a little but his eyes questioned. “You’ve never come by before.”

“I suppose not.”

He held his eyes on me, licked his lips, and smiled.

I felt obvious. “Well, I should be on my way.”

He blinked and dropped his smile. “All right.”

I left, feeling all eyes on me. I shut the door, sighed, and started back toward the surrey.

“Wait,” I heard, followed by the sound of the office door shutting.

Caught, I froze and slowly turned around. He glided to me in his regal way.

“Yes?”

John reached out gleefully and slipped his hand into mine. “Thank you.”

“Oh.” I looked down and felt his skin, warm and smooth. “You are welcome.”

I met his eyes and felt strange looking directly at him. His eyes—they were dark—dark brown.

He leaned forward a little as if to kiss me.

Surprised, I flinched.

He pulled back, hesitated, and dropped my hand. “I guess I should…” He motioned back toward the offices.

I watched unblinking as he returned to the office. Had he tried to kiss me? What was going on? No he couldn’t have—for one thing we were in public. Still, he had been oddly interested in me since returning from St. Louis. That strange conversation at breakfast. He seemed different, as if he wanted to be…affectionate? Or was it me? I’d changed. Maybe he was reacting to that change? I sighed. All that time I’d tried so hard and nothing. Now that I wasn’t trying…I laughed to myself. No, it couldn’t be. Well, even if he was trying to kiss me, I didn’t care. After all my unrequited efforts to build affection between us, I wasn’t going to just submit to his wants now. I could hardly believe it after not receiving the slightest hint of affection from him for so long, but a part of me hoped he did want me because I wasn’t going to give him anything. I hoped he would feel what I had felt, rejected. I exhaled, pushed it from my mind, and made my way back to the surrey.

Mr. Buck offered his hand to help me up, but I stopped.

“Where’s Mrs. Schwab?”

“Um. She said she needed something from that house.” He pointed across the street. “She said she’d be only a moment.”

“What? What kind of negligent person handles personal matters while in town with her mistress? I must fetch her at once.”

“No, ma’am. Please let me.”

“Mr. Buck, when I need your assistance, I will ask for it.” Poor Mr. Buck probably didn’t like me very much. “Wait here.”

He stepped out of my way, and I quickly stalked up to the house and banged on the door.

When Lottie opened the door, she was holding her hand to her mouth and nose. I quickly stepped in and she closed the door. It was as if I had entered another world—a dark, muggy, dirty, and cramped world that stank of mold and warm ale.

Lottie squinted. “Go as planned?”

“Apparently not in here. What happened? Are we too late?”

“You ain’t goin’ to believe me.”

It was then that I heard the woman yelling and ranting, practically screaming. I rushed toward the flustered thing. She fluttered around a large man at a table drinking a hefty mug of beer and devouring a huge mound of meat and potatoes. When she saw me, she turned her ranting in my direction. “Do you see this? Do you see what he’s like? There’s something wrong with him. Don’t you smell it? It’s horrible. He’s disgusting. He’s sick. He’s terribly, terribly ill. You have to help him. You have to help me.”

“I’m fine, woman. Leave me be.” He spit out little bits of food as he spoke. He was sweaty and hairy everywhere except for the top of his head. He spilled beer down his chin. Then a noise came from beneath him, followed by a stench.

I covered my nose and mouth. Lottie covered her face, too, but she shook with laughter.

“You see! You see! It’s like this all the time. All the time. He stinks. He stinks horribly. There’s something wrong with him! There’s something terribly, terribly wrong. He’s dying, I tell you! He must be rotting from the inside out!” She couldn’t have served as a model of cleanliness herself, but I could tell that under different circumstances, people would have considered her quite the beauty. She had blond tresses falling out of her loosely pinned mass, a little face, and a prim nose. Unlike her husband, she had a beautiful figure. I wondered if this was an arranged marriage gone sour or some sort of love affair that had taken a turn for the worse. Either way, she obviously felt dissatisfied with what she had ended up with. “Fix him!” she screeched. “Please help me! Cure him of this evil!” She paced violently, hands flailing.

I thought back to a book I had recently ordered called
Advanced
Home Remedies and Nursing for Your Family.
I’d skimmed a few sections about some of these symptoms, thinking I wouldn’t have any use for such things. Who would contact me concerning body odor? Next time, I’d make sure to read the entire book.

Lottie fought a wry grin. “Can we do sometin’?”

I closed my eyes, attempting to remember. Flatulence, I recalled, was related to diet but had more to do with the habit of swallowing too much air. I considered the man devouring his meal and sucking down a dark brew while fending off his wife. The body odor was obviously a hygienic issue. I could do nothing for baldness, not without turning his scalp yellow.

“You’re sick! You’re disgusting!”

“Ma’am, ma’am.” I stepped closer. “Your husband’s stench can be fixed through some changes in habit.”

The woman clung to her disheveled frock. “Please! Please!”

“He needs to take regular baths and not wear the same clothing day in and day out.”

“That’s right, woman. You need to do some launderin’!” he yelled through a mouthful.

“Also, his diet could be healthier, fewer heavy foods. But more importantly, he needs to eat smaller bites and be wary of swallowing air along with it.”

“What?” He shoved a mound into his mouth. “Dis woma eh ouwa har mind.”

His wife flew at him. “Quiet, you. You are sick! I told you! You be eatin’ all this garbage! You been eating us outta house and home. You need to take a bath. You’re disgusting!”

“Ma’am, ma’am.” I held my hands up.

She flailed back around.

“It might help to ask nicely.” I used a graceful hand gesture to suggest the simplicity of kindness. “Also, you can encourage this by joining him.”

“What?”

If she bathed regularly, which she needed to do, he might be more inclined to stay clean as well. “You should join him.” I nodded. “In bathing.”

“What?” Lottie chimed in.

A strange look crossed the woman’s face, her mouth open and her lips pulled back.

Her husband stood, gulped down the rest of his beer, and slammed his mug down. “I’ll do it.” He wiped his mouth with his arm, snatched his wife’s wrist, and gave her a big sloppy kiss. “Let us bathe!” He stomped out, dragging her behind him.

We stood motionless in shock.

“What just happened? Where are they going?”

“I suppose to the Mississippi,” Lottie said, giggling.

“What?”

Lottie started laughing hysterically before folding over and grabbing her sides.

My eyes moved back and forth as I put it all together. “I didn’t mean bathe with each other. I meant…” I grinned, shook my head, and started to chuckle.