Bonds of Earth (9 page)

“I’m going to go watch over him,” Michael said. “The nurses check him only once every half hour at most.” Before he could rise to his feet, Mary’s hand on his wrist stopped him.

“Find Johnny first,” she said softly. “We haven’t seen him since this started.”

Michael was still reeling from the fact she’d called Seward “Johnny” when she added, “And don’t be harsh with him. It’s not his fault.”

“How can you say—” Michael began hotly, but a gentle squeeze to his arm silenced him as effectively as a blow.

“You don’t know all there is to know,” she said simply. “Just—please make sure he’s all right. Thomas would want that.”

I
T
DIDN
’
T
take long for Michael to find Seward. Once the battleaxe downstairs had coldly informed him no one fitting Seward’s description had entered the hospital since they’d arrived, he’d walked outside and found him sitting on the front steps, elbows resting on his knees, smoking a cigarette. Seward’s long-fingered hands were trembling visibly, although the night was warm.

“Mary asked me to find you,” Michael said, sitting down beside him.

“You’ve found me,” Seward murmured, taking another drag. “Now go away.”

Fury slammed into Michael hard, making him forget Mary’s words. “Not even interested in knowing whether you’ve killed him or not?” he sneered.

To his utter shock, Seward did not answer back as he usually did. Instead he stared at Michael for a moment, then crumpled before his eyes. He buried his head in his hands and drew deep, shuddering breaths. “If you imagine,” he gasped brokenly, “that you loathe me more than I loathe myself, you’re mistaken. Please, I beg you, leave me alone.”

Michael sat frozen for a moment, suspended between new habits and old. The new man would stand up now and do as Seward wished, not out of courtesy or obedience but rather from a lack of interest. The man he had been, however, knew that was not what Seward needed. Finally, he heard his own voice say, as from a distance, “He’s not out of danger yet, but chances are he’s going to recover.”

Seward’s hands still covered his face, but at Michael’s words he produced a small, soft sound, something dangerously close to a sob.

“Come inside,” Michael said gruffly.

Seward lifted his head from his hands, wiping at his cheeks as he did so. “No,” he said, shaking his head. “I won’t set foot in that place.”

Michael sighed. “Suit yourself,” he muttered. “But you’ll be staying out here all night.”

Seward studied the cigarette stub between his fingers, then dropped it on the step and crushed it beneath his left foot. “It’s all right,” he answered as he reached inside his jacket for another one. “It’s not the first time I’ve done it.”

M
ICHAEL
watched Abbott through the night and well into the next morning. He gratefully drank cup after cup of coffee brought to him by the young duty nurse, whose sympathetic green eyes were the exact color of Seward’s.

Abbott began to stir around eleven, and Michael rushed down the hall to retrieve Mary and Sarah, who were fairly vibrating with worry and frustration by this time. They allowed Mary in first; she emerged from the room a few minutes later, her cheeks rosy, tears bright in her eyes. She placed an arm around Sarah and tried to lead her inside, but the girl flinched and darted away from her touch.

Mary’s face reflected several emotions that came and went too quickly for Michael to identify. Finally she murmured, “All right, we’ll wait until you’re ready,” and smoothed a hand over her granddaughter’s hair before motioning for Michael to go inside. “He wants to see you.” As puzzled by her words as by Sarah’s odd reaction, Michael complied.

Abbott was propped up in the bed, looking weak but much better than he had the night before. He nodded to Michael as he drew nearer.

“Mary says I have you to thank for saving my life,” he said shortly.

“I don’t know about that,” Michael replied. “You’re a tough old bastard. It would take more than this to kill you.”

Abbott stared at him for a moment, then began to laugh, the sound like dry leaves crackling underfoot. “Well, that much is true,” he acknowledged, sobering. “But I still want to thank you.” He extended his hand, and Michael took it.

“Is John still outside?” the old man asked softly.

“That’s where I left him last night,” Michael said shortly.

Abbott narrowed his eyes at him. “Were you in the war?”

“Yes,” Michael answered. “I was there.”

Abbott appraised him with that piercing gaze for another span of heartbeats before seeming to reach a decision. “I lost my son at the battle of Belleau Wood. I’ll never see the ground where they buried him. Sarah’s mother died nearly a year to the day after that of the influenza. When Sarah came to us, she woke screaming every night. That was the only time we heard her voice.” He turned his head toward the window, the sunlight streaming in and sharpening the lines in his face. “I have worked for the Sewards for thirty years. Mary and I raised John. Frank was a big brother to him. When John was wounded, I….” He trailed off, mouth working in silence for a few moments before he could continue. “I couldn’t lose another child. Do you understand?”

“Yes,” Michael said again, because dear God, he did, for the first time in weeks he did.

“We thought at first he’d be able to make a full recovery—the doctors had hopes—but something happened to him over there, something no one understood. Everything we did seemed to make things worse, make him retreat further and further inside himself. He cut himself off from Mary because she tried to force him to see reason. After that I feared if I didn’t hold my tongue, he might do—something—to himself. It wasn’t overwork that did this to me, McCready. It was seeing him every day and knowing how goddamned useless I am to him. He’s going to waste away to nothing, and I—”

Without being aware of it, Michael took a step forward and reached up to grip the old man’s bony shoulder, stopping him before he became too overwrought. “No,” he said firmly. “He’s not going to waste away. Leave it to me.”

The old man looked up at him with a mixture of disbelief and some small spark of hope, and Michael realized with a rising sense of dread that he was developing a nasty habit of making promises.

As he watched the old man settle into peaceful sleep, however, it occurred to him that he might finally have thought of a way to deliver on them. 

6

“M
Y
BOY
, it’s very good to see you again.”

Michael took the proffered hand and shook it warmly. “Thank you so much for coming, sir.”

Doctor Parrish waved away his thanks. “Not at all, not at all. Just between us, I was near desperate to escape the city for a day. And it’s so pleasant here, isn’t it?” He took in the grounds and smiled that huge, infectious grin that Michael remembered so well, even though it had been months since he’d seen it last. “You’ve done well with your garden. It’s hard work, but it’s God’s work, isn’t it?”

Michael’s mouth quirked as he took the doctor’s heavy bag from him. Parrish had always been Episcopalian to a fault. “I suppose it is,” he conceded, not wanting to get into a theological debate with his old mentor.

Parrish looked at him sidelong as they walked together toward the kitchen entrance. “Well, that’s all right, my boy, that’s all right. He believes in you.” He smiled. “You can’t tell me you don’t see the hand of fate in your arrival here.”

Michael rubbed at the back of his neck. “I definitely see the hand of something,” he muttered.

Parrish laughed. “Say what you want, but this man needs you, and not because you can make daisies grow. Whether you like it or not, this is a call to action.”

Michael shook his head. “I’m only doing a favor for friends. When I’m done with this… obligation, I’ll be returning to the garden.”
Or the bathhouse, if I can manage it. Paddy be damned, I’ll probably need it once this is over.

Parrish was silent for a few moments. “I’m very sorry to hear that,” he said softly. “But perhaps working with this young man will change your mind.”

Michael barked a sharp, dry laugh. “When you meet him, Doctor,” he murmured, “I think you’ll see how unlikely that is.”

T
O
SAY
Seward was less than thrilled at the sudden appearance of another medical professional in his midst was akin to saying that the Johnstown Flood had been a minor inconvenience. Of course, the fact that Michael had given him no warning of Doctor Parrish’s arrival hadn’t helped, though he doubted that foreknowledge would have improved Seward’s mood a great deal.

Seward looked up from the letter of introduction Doctor Parrish had given him. “Your credentials are most impressive, Doctor, but I’m unsure as to why Doctor Daniels saw fit to send for you. He and his colleagues have already made their prognosis, and I thought the matter was settled.”

Parrish glanced at Michael, who remained silent. “As that letter shows, Doctor Daniels and I are acquainted. However, I was not sent by him,” Parrish said carefully, “but… asked to consult by another party.”

Seward sighed. “My aunt, then. That woman will never learn—”

“Nor was I sent by your aunt.” This time Michael could feel the weight of Parrish’s gaze on him.

“If my dear aunt didn’t send for you, then who did?” Seward demanded, his veneer of civility wearing thin.

“I did,” Michael answered.

Seward’s astonishment briefly surpassed his anger. “You did?” He snorted. “Unless I’m sorely mistaken, you were hired to prune the rosebushes, not meddle in my personal affairs.”

“I can assure you that Michael is well qualified,” Parrish said kindly. “He worked under my supervision for a year, and I have every confidence in his skills as a therapist.”

“Oh, for God’s sake,” huffed Seward, glaring at Michael. “Did Aunt Rebecca hire you to insinuate yourself—”

Michael shook his head, his low chuckle startling Seward into silence. “There’s no evil conspiracy afoot, Seward. Your aunt doesn’t know me as anything but a half-witted Mick gardener. And believe me, she couldn’t have tempted me to do this if she’d offered me every last dime of her fortune.”

“Then what gives you the right to—”

“Sarah gives me the right,” Michael snapped, cutting him off. “She came to me weeks ago asking me to help you, and I promised to do what I could. She cares about you, and now she’s worried sick about her grandfather. She doesn’t want anyone else she loves to die. Can you blame her?”

Seward said nothing, merely gripped the arms of his chair and stared at the empty hearth. Michael stepped forward and crouched down in front of him.

“Personally,” he said, voice low, “I think you’re just like the rest of those selfish bastards I treated in England who told themselves it would be fine and noble to slit their wrists or swallow a bottle of pills rather than face the risk that no one would want what was left of them if they came home. You’re going to do it more slowly than the rest, but the result will be the same. I’m not sure if that makes you more or less of a coward.”

Seward’s eyes flashed at that, but Michael held up a hand to forestall him. “That old man is lying in a bed upstairs because he loves you, and because you’re the only son he has left, and he doesn’t know how to make you want to live. I don’t know how to make you want it either, but I know that you care about him, and I know you don’t want him to destroy himself over you. But he will, Seward, and right now you’re the only one who can prevent that.”

Seward shut his eyes and sucked in a jagged breath. “You don’t understand,” he insisted. “I can’t regain my strength. It’s not possible.”

“That’s not strictly true,” Doctor Parrish offered gently. “I’ve read the reports from your doctors. It’s clear they’ve never challenged you the way they should have. You’ve lost muscle mass, joint range of motion, reflexes—not to mention hope—as a result, but the trend is not irreversible.”

“Forgive me, but all doctors are alike as far as I’m concerned,” Seward said coolly.

Parrish only chuckled at that. “If only that were true. But while many of us are eager to learn new techniques, many others remain hidebound and reactionary. I know your doctors, and forgive
me
, but they fall into the latter group.”

Seward huffed out a breath. “That requires no apology. You’re talking about my father’s closest friends; I could have told you as much.”

“Yes, well, my point is that you haven’t yet seen all that medical science has to offer. Homeopathic healing and physical therapy have made great strides in the past several years, and Michael and I have a wealth of experience in both. I’m sure that we can develop a regimen for you that will address your specific needs. I’m willing to work closely with Michael to oversee your progress.”

Seward frowned. “Why would you do this?”

Parrish smiled. “Purely selfish reasons, my boy. If I tempt Michael back into medicine, I am assured of a very great reward in heaven.”

Michael glanced up at him. “I knew Protestants had to bribe their way past Saint Peter, but I think you’d better try for something more attainable,” he murmured.