Nan Ryan (12 page)

Hannah’s dark eyes blazed and she grabbed Kathleen’s shoulders and shook her hard, “Don’t you ever talk lak that! You ain’t ’bout to do sompin lak that. Does you think I would allow it? It’s dangerous. Ain’t nobody gonna touch you, you hear me?”

“Yes,” Kathleen answered sadly, “but what am I going to do?”

“Honey, you jest quit that cryin’. I’ll think of sompin. We gonna face this together. Now, the first thing you gots to do is start eatin’ right. If you gonna have a baby, you gots to take care of yoself.”

“Hannah, will you help me run away? I can’t face Mother and Daddy, I just …”

“You jest stop that foolish talk. I tol’ you, I is gonna help you and I is. Jest give me some time to think. Now, you eats all that breakfast.”

“All right, I’ll eat, but we must think of something soon.”

“We will, honey, we will.”

As Hannah left the room, Kathleen sat dutifully eating her morning meal. Hannah closed the door and her big body swayed against the wall. “It’s my fault,” she thought, tortured by the hidden secret in her breast. “I done ruined that po’ chile’s life. It’s my fault, I shoulda tol her. I be responsible. I shoulda tol’ her, spite of Mister Beauregard. That po’ baby loves Mistah Dawson and Mistah Dawson loves her, too. Now what that po’ baby gonna do, oh Lawd, what she gonna do?” She straightened at last and went sadly down the stairs, a new burden weighing down upon her.

Not an hour had passed before Hannah flung Kathleen’s door open and came hurrying in. She slammed the door behind her and lumbered to the closet. “Honey, get yoself out of that bed. I’se found the answer. Now hurry and I’ll get you dressed!”

“What is the answer you’ve found, Hannah?” Kathleen looked at her hopefully.

“There’s a young doctor downstairs.”

“Oh, Hannah, I don’t want to see a doctor. That’s the last thing I want. Do you want everyone to know?” she was exasperated.

“No, honey, I don’t mean lak that. I mean Doctor Rembert Pitt’s downstairs and he’s got his nephew with him. He’s handsome, nice, young and unmarried. He be jest right fo’ you. He jest happens to be a doctor, too. Now come on, he be tall and blond and good-lookin’. He the answer, now hurry!”

Slowly Kathleen rose and dressed for lunch.

Nine

The chill December wind blew Doctor Hunter Alexander’s thick blond hair around his high forehead. He stood, his hands folded in front of him, looking down at the two graves not yet eight months old. His slim body was motionless, his head bowed slightly. Having come alone to the tiny cemetery on the plantation that no longer belonged to him, he quietly said goodbye to the two people resting there, vowing silently to himself to find a cure for the dreaded disease of yellow fever that had taken them from him within a week of each other. Hunter would never be free of the sight of their suffering.

It had been a June they had all looked forward to, his last year of medical school. He would be returning to Vicksburg, a full-fledged doctor at the age of twenty-four. Proud of their brilliant son, William and Judy Alexander had looked forward to his return to the plantation and the evening of his arrival was a festive occasion for the family and scores of friends took part in the celebration. Doctor Rembert Pitt, Judy’s brother and a respected physician in Natchez, came up for a visit to congratulate his nephew. He tried to persuade young Hunter to come to Natchez and be his partner.

“I need a young doctor, Hunter, my practice is much too big for one man. Why stay here and starve for years when I’ve a booming business already established just waiting for the skilled hands of a surgeon?”

“You’re very kind, Uncle Rembert, but I plan to stay here in Vicksburg. I know it will take a few years to build up my practice, but I don’t mind. I’m more interested in research than in treating sore throats. Besides, I’ve been gone from home a long time. I’m looking forward to spending some time with Mom and Dad again.”

That very evening, William Alexander complained of a minor headache and excused himself from the party early. When the guests had all departed and Judy had kissed her son goodnight, she went up to her bedroom to see how her husband was feeling.

“Hunter, Hunter,” she flew down the stairs moments later. “Come quick, your father’s very ill!”

Hunter laid aside the book he was reading and ran up the stairs two at a time and into his parents’ big bedroom. William Alexander lay unconscious on the bed where he had collapsed, his clothes still on. Rembert heard the commotion and came also to William’s bedroom. Hunter was bending over his father when his uncle pushed him aside and took his place. He knew immediately that it was yellow fever. He also knew there was little he could do to help. By morning William Alexander was dead and Judy Alexander’s raspy voice, sitting red-eyed at her husband’s bedside, told Hunter she too had contacted the fever.

Hunter carried her to another bedroom and kept a vigil over her for days. Sitting by her bedside, he refused to sleep, catching only brief naps throughout the long hours of her agony. She lingered for a week, delirious, her words rasping in her throat. Near the end, she quieted a little and reached out her hand to Hunter.

“Son, I haven’t long, I know. And I know you’re a grown man, a doctor and all. To me you’re still my little boy, my beautiful blond child. Promise me you’ll go to Natchez with your uncle. He needs you, Hunter, and you’ll need him.”

“I promise, Mother,” Hunter whispered and kissed her hand. She was gone. They were both gone. He was aware of his uncle in the room, standing quietly, shaking his head. They were both doctors and were powerless to do anything. They’d rubbed her wracked body, applied hot water bottles, given her brews of camphor, calomet, and peppermint. None of it had helped. Hunter Alexander’s first case as a medical doctor had ended in the death of his patients.

Hunter’s parents were not the only ones to die in the yellow fever epidemic of June 1855. Half the slaves on the plantation fell victim and Hunter and his uncle stood helplessly by and watched as they slumped to the floors of their quarters, writhing in pain and fear. The death toll was heavy as entire families were wiped out. City officials burned tar in hopes of cleaning the air as carts and wagons made their way to the cemetery with the many corpses. Long trenches were dug and the bodies dumped in; there was no times for proper burials. Business came to a standstill as worried citizens refused to venture from their homes.

Two weeks after it was over, Rembert boarded a riverboat to go back to Natchez. “I wish you were coming with me today, Hunter. I hate to leave you here alone.”

“Uncle Rembert, I’m very tired, as I’m sure you must be. I’ve spent the last several years studying furiously, taking very little time to relax. Then this tragedy happens upon my homecoming. I want to rest, to spend the summer just doing nothing and deciding what to do about the plantation. I think I’ll probably sell it, but I must have some time to think about it. I will come to Natchez sometime in the fall and hopefully by that time I will be more ready to undertake my tasks with renewed strength.”

“I understand, boy. You deserve a rest; I just wish you’d come to Natchez to do it. I shan’t press you, but I’ll be waiting to welcome you when you are ready. Goodbye, Hunter.”

“I’ll see you soon, Uncle. Thanks for everything.”

Hunter pulled his collar up around his neck and started from the cemetery. He walked back to the house looking fondly at the place where he had grown up. No longer his home, he had sold it to a family from St. Louis. They would be moving in next week and he would be long gone. It didn’t matter to Hunter, the place was not the same without the two people who’d made its walls ring with laughter and sunshine. It looked dark and cold now and he was anxious to leave. The carriage waited for him in front of the house, his trunks and suitcases already loaded. Hunter climbed in the back and settled himself for the ride to the river after a brief stop at the big home next door where Mrs. Rachel Bost would be waiting for him to say goodbye. The carriage moved down the drive and Hunter glanced briefly over his shoulder at the big empty house, its curtains drawn, the windows dark. Dry-eyed, Hunter turned around, his delicate features pensive and thoughtful. He looked to the long, slender fingers resting in his lap and hoped God would make them healing hands. Nothing else in life mattered to him, he wanted to be the best doctor he could possibly be. And he wanted to find a cure for yellow fever.

When Hunter swung down from the carriage in front of Mrs. Bost’s big home, she came hurrying down the walk to meet him. A big, cheerful woman, she looked sad today, but she tried to smile at Hunter. “My goodness, Hunter, you sure look the part of the handsome young doctor. You’re going to be the best one in this whole state.”

“Thanks, Mrs. Bost, I’ll try to be. I’m going to miss you,” he smiled at her.

Her arms came around the slender young man standing on her front walk, a pan of freshly baked cookies still in her hand. “Oh, Hunter, I promised myself I wouldn’t cry, but I’m not so sure I can keep the promise. I watched you grow up and I always told Judy if Mister Bost and I could have had a son, I would have wanted him to be just like you.”

Hunter embraced the tall woman in his arms and patted her back soothingly. “You’ve been like a second Mom to me, Mrs. Bost, you know that. I shall miss you very much and you know I’ll come back to visit you when I can.” He gently pulled away.

Mrs. Bost tried her best to smile, tears on her lashes. She picked up the corner of her apron and wiped at her eyes. “I’m sorry. Here, I baked you your favorite cookies to take with you.” She handed him the pan.

“Thank you,” Hunter smiled broadly and took the present. “I have to go now. Take care of yourself.” He kissed her cheek and went back to his carriage. She watched him drive away and felt lonely. The entire Alexander family was now gone and she would miss them all.

When Hunter stepped down from the carriage in front of his uncle’s house in Natchez on December 23rd, Rembert ran down the long walk to meet him, laughing and waving. Hunter’s own face broke into a grin at the sight of the wiry little man, so much like his own mother, the merry eyes the same deep blue. Hunter embraced his uncle and willingly let the older man lead him into the big house that was to be his new home. A roaring fire warmed him and a glass of brandy shared with his uncle made Hunter feel welcome and comfortable.

“As soon as the holidays are over, you can get right to work, Hunter. I know you must be eager to get started.”

“Thanks, Uncle, I am. I’ve rested and read all summer and autumn. I enjoyed my solitude for a while, but now I’m ready for activity and work. I’ll make you a good partner.”

“That you will, son. Natchez is lucky to have you. And I suspect we’ll be having more patients than ever once the fine ladies of Natchez have seen the handsome young doctor.”

Hunter smiled, “I’ll be much too busy to pay any attention to the young ladies.”

Hunter was alone in the laboratory upstairs over the office. He had been working since the first light of dawn, studying, researching, hunting solutions from thick medical volumes scattered around the room. He rubbed his brown eyes and closed them for a minute. He got up and moved to the window, his hands in his pockets.

“Hunter,” his uncle called to him.

“In here, Uncle Rembert,” Hunter turned to the door.

“You never stop, do you, boy? It’s Saturday, Hunter, you could ease off a little now and then.”

“I enjoy my work, you know that. I will stop and have a cup of coffee with you, though.”

“I’ve a better idea. I have a luncheon invitation and I’d like you to come along. They’re very nice people, very prominent, you’ll enjoy meeting them.”

“I don’t think so, Uncle Rembert, I’m not finished here and I …”

“I insist. A blind doctor will do no one any good. You’re going to put your eyes out with all that reading night and day. Now get dressed. We’re to be there in half an hour.”

“I guess it wouldn’t hurt to get away for a while.”

“That’s the spirit. Louis Beauregard and his wife are charming people. You’ll enjoy yourself.”

Hunter sat in the drawing room of San Souci making polite conversation with Louis and Abigail and his uncle. The room was warm and cheery against the January cold and his host and hostess were gracious people. Hunter was glad he had reluctantly agreed to come along. His eyes roamed around the high-ceilinged room as the four talked. His gaze kept coming back to rest on the portrait of a young girl hanging over the mantel. If she were half as beautiful in person as the artist had painted her to be, she must be a stunner. Her hair was one shade lighter than his own and her eyes were too blue to be real. The small, perfect mouth was turned up into a hint of a smile and she looked as though she might burst into laughter at any second. She looked no more than fourteen or fifteen in the portrait and Hunter wondered to himself who the lovely child belonged to. Uncle Rembert had made no mention of the Beauregards having a daughter. Hunter stole a glance at Abigail Beauregard sitting across the room from him. There was a resemblance, though her eyes were not nearly as blue as those of the girl over the fireplace. Perhaps it was a portrait of her as a child. She had certainly been a lovely one, still attractive now, but she hadn’t lived up to the promise she held as a young girl. His eyes left Abigail and went back to the portrait. He was still looking at it when the servants announced that lunch was ready.

Hunter gallantly offered his arm to Abigail and they preceded Uncle Rembert and Louis into the big dining room. Four place settings were laid out and, as soon as Hunter had pulled out a chair for Abigail and seated himself, soup was served. Louis had turned the conversation to wines and Hunter only half listened as he spooned the creamy soup from the gold-rimmed china bowl. He heard a commotion in the foyer just outside the dining room and turned his eyes to the door as did his table companions.

“Oh, Father, I’m sorry I’m late. I do hope our guests won’t think me too rude.” Kathleen smiled at Hunter and Rembert.

Abigail’s spoon dropped noisily beside her bowl. Hunter rose as did his uncle. Louis was speechless. He remained in his chair, looking at Kathleen, completely shocked by her unexpected entrance. He glanced at his surprised wife, then back to Kathleen.