The Spirit Room (17 page)

“
Let’s stroll along the path that follows the creek.” Mac stood and offered her a hand.

They left their things and walked toward the two couples. One of the young women, wearing a blue bonnet trimmed with white roses, a cream-colored shawl, and a green and purple dress with full crinoline, was looking intently toward Mac. How on earth did she make it down the steep path in that dress? When they got closer, the woman seemed to recognize Mac and, in that instant, the gaiety dropped from her face like a falling stone. Then just as rapidly she replaced her lost smile.

“
Doctor MacAdams. How surprising to see you way down here.”

“
Mrs. Page, a pleasure to see you.” He gestured toward Izzie. “Allow me to introduce Isabelle Benton.”

Mrs. Page introduced her companions. The man at her side was her husband. She seemed nervous, stuttering a bit, but then she smiled again and said to her group, “Shall we climb back up?”

“
Please. I haven’t had the chance to congratulate you on your marriage.” Mac looked at Mr. Page and said, “My congratulations to both of you.”

The newlyweds thanked him for his sentiment and the foursome continued their walk.

For some reason, it seemed Mrs. Page didn’t want to see Mac. Izzie kept wondering about this as she strolled along the greenish-brown creek.

“
I met Mrs. Page at the Hygienic Institute.” He leaned over and picked up a gold and white hawk feather and began to twirl it between his fingertips. “Once someone is a patient of mine, I really don’t like to talk about their condition with anyone else except other physicians or family members. It’s more than a courtesy in our profession.” He handed the feather to Izzie. “You could see how eager she was to get away from me. Sometimes what occurs between a physician and patient is of the greatest confidence. People, especially certain women, are embarrassed when they encounter me outside the clinic.”

Twirling the hawk feather between her fingers just as Mac had, Izzie recalled how Mac had told her that women at the Geneva Hygienic Institute were seeking relief from female conditions and diseases. Did he attend directly to these women regarding their menses, pregnancy, or even abortion?

He took a silver pocket watch from his waistcoat. “We better start back, I’m afraid. It’s a long ride.”

She wanted to hear more, much more, about Mac’s medical practice, but Mac was silent as they made their way back to the gig and dapple mare. Slipping the feather, her first gift from Mac, into her skirt pocket, she knew there would be another time to learn about his life as a physician and she could wait.

On the return ride to Geneva, Izzie felt giddy with the swift pace of the carriage, with Mac and his romantic confession about his ultimate passion for her. As they clipped along, her vision seemed vaguely blurry. Was that from the wine? Then the lull of the horse’s trot made her sleepy. Closing her eyes, she sensed light flashing off and on behind her eyelids as they passed under tree boughs. The day was a beautiful dream. Yes, she would marry this man. She would go to Rochester and be a physician’s wife.

“
I should at least meet your father before you and I see each other again,” he said.

Her eyes popped open.

“
He doesn’t know about your interest in me yet,” she said.

“
Not at all?” He turned toward her, his forehead furrowing down.

“
You remember I told you that first day, he doesn’t like doctors. I wanted to wait.”

Mac snapped the whip. The dapple picked up her pace. “Why doesn’t he like us?”

“
He believes you are all quacks. That’s all I know.”

Again, Mac snapped the whip and the dapple accelerated. “His permission will be difficult to garner, then,” he said.

“
Yes. I am afraid it will.”

But Mac had no idea how difficult it really would be. She would have to find a way to convince Papa. Surely there had to be one.

<><><>

THE NEXT DAY, on her way to the Spirit Room for an afternoon séance with Clara and some Geneva ladies, Izzie noticed Mrs. Beattie, the milliner, their Spirit Room landlady, waving wildly at her through the shop window, beckoning her to come in. When Izzie entered the shop to greet her, Mrs. Beattie told Izzie to wait a moment because she had something for her. After going to the back workroom where she made, embellished, and repaired hats, Mrs. Beattie returned with a letter in her hand and presented it to Izzie.

“
It’s from a very tall gentleman who asked that it be given only to you, you personally, Isabelle Benton, he said. He was very serious about it. Isn’t he the one acting for Dr. Smith at the Water-Cure Institute?”

Izzie’s pulse quickened. It was a folded and wax-sealed letter addressed to “Isabelle,” the handwriting neat and flowing. Running her finger over her name, she realized she had not yet seen his handwriting, its sharp turns and strong slope. It suited him. Feeling Mrs. Beattie watching her, she tore herself away from the letter. Mrs. Beattie was beaming as she waited for Izzie to explain, but Izzie quietly smiled back, slipped the letter into her pocket, and thanked Mrs. Beattie for her kindness in delivering it.

“
Yes. Doctor MacAdams. He’s with the Geneva Hygienic Institute for a few months. You always select the loveliest of your hats to wear each day, Mrs. Beattie. These purple tulips around the brim are stunning. Are they silk?” Izzie pointed at the bonnet.

Mrs. Beattie touched her green hat. “Oh, yes.” Then she took it off to show Izzie in more detail how she had changed it, taken off a nice but plain embroidered satin band, had made a wreath of purple tulips with heavy Italian silk, intertwining the closed blooms with stems of dark green. Mrs. Beattie was very proud of it and it was stunning. As Izzie cooed over the hat another minute or so, she thought all the while of the letter in her dress pocket. She was nearly frantic wanting to get away to break the seal and read it.

Claiming she had to rush to a séance upstairs, Izzie thanked Mrs. Beattie again and sped off. Hoping that the Spirit Room would be empty so that she could read the letter in peace, she pushed open the door. No was one there. The room was sun-drenched and ready for the circle. A bouquet of yellow iris on the fireplace mantle, which Sam Weston had brought to Clara a few days ago, was still fresh. Izzie strode to the windows and stood in the bright warmth.

She drew the letter from her pocket and broke the red fleur-de-lis seal with her thumb.

My Dearest Izzie,

I must speak to you at once. I will be miserable and desperate until I do. Meet me tomorrow, Tuesday, at noon at my office. Only send word if you cannot come.

Mac

She read the letter over and over. What was it? What could he want? “Miserable and desperate.” “Must speak to you.” How could she wait until tomorrow to find out what he wanted? Impossible. Folding the letter back up and slipping it into her pocket, she looked across the room at the clock on the mantel. Three o’clock.
Miserable and desperate
. My Goodness. He loved her, wanted her. Taking a deep, long breath, she took the letter out and read it again, and then, again.

<><><>

THE MINUTES AND HOURS CRAWLED like turtles that waddled, stopped and napped, then waddled a few steps, then napped again. Everything and everyone annoyed her. They were all distractions that had to be tolerated until noon tomorrow.

When noon finally came and she walked into the front entry of the Geneva Hygienic Institute, Izzie saw a few clusters of men and women milling near the doors to the dining room. The huge hallway was filled with the smell of food cooking, a din of voices, and the clattering of dishes. Supper was being served. She imagined the room Mac had shown her with its two glass chandeliers and shining silverware, every table surrounded by hydrotherapy patients eating piles of vegetables and drinking huge pitchers of water. But even the enticing aromas permeating the hallway didn’t make her feel hungry. She was too excited, too nervous.

She opened the door to the reception area to her left just as she had done that first day she’d come to pay Mac’s fee. No one was there, not even the young man who had ushered her before. Today it was cloudy, threatening rain, with only a dreary light outside, but the glass on Mac’s office door was bright, gaslights burning inside. The large, illuminated translucent plate of glass in the door was like a beacon, but without the receptionist escorting her, she felt like a trespasser.

Heart fluttering, she knocked softly on the mottled glass. She heard a rustling sound. He was there. The door opened. Mac smiled and reached both hands toward her. She offered hers, a simple reflex she couldn’t stop, didn’t want to stop. He squeezed her hands gently, his dark brown eyes locking with hers.

“
I’m glad you could come. Please sit with me.”

He led her to the two Windsor chairs at his desk and turned them so that they faced each other. Once they settled into the chairs, he leaned forward.

“
Have you spoken to your father yet, told him about our courtship?”

“
No, I was waiting for the right moment. Why, what is it?”

He pulled his chair closer, his knees within an inch of hers, and took her hands lightly in his.

“
Since Sunday, I have thought of nothing but you. I haven’t slept for two nights, not a minute of sleep.” His words were gaining speed like a train pulling out of the station. “Monday morning, yesterday, I was walking to my office at sunrise. I thought if I came to work, I could think of something besides you. On my way, just as the light was turning soft, the air started moving the way it does when the sun rises and strikes it. I was stirred too, like the air, and I thought, I am about to begin a new life, not just a new day, a new life, with Izzie, a perfect love, after all these years. I realized I was awake, that I had been asleep my entire life, and all of a sudden, I was awake. I have found the full, true passion I have been waiting for. And in that very moment, I knew our destinies were entwined, that we were not only a man and a woman getting acquainted, who would become man and wife, we were much more, so much more. Our union would be one of passion and devotion, but also of intellect.” He paused, his chest rising and falling in his cream-colored brocade waistcoat. “Izzie, I have been alone, always alone. Only now do I believe I can be the man I was born to be with you in my life.”

His words were spiraling in her head, through her heart. She felt drunk, wanted to cry, giggle, stand up, fall, jump, fly. She was breathless.

“
Mac, I will marry you. I decided when we were at the falls.”

He lifted her hands to his face, kissed her fingertips, first on one hand, then the other, his mustache sweetly tickling, his lips dry, his breath warm, then brought their hands down to rest on his knees.

“
This is what I prayed for, Izzie.”

Her heart was pounding. “I am still uncertain about my father.”

“
That is why I was so urgent about your coming today. You must tell him right away about our acquaintance and my intentions, because it may take time to convince him. I want to speak to him myself as soon as possible, to allay his concerns, to contend with his objections.”

Everything with Mac had gone so quickly, more than quickly, a river breaking over its bank and rushing across a flat valley. She and Mac had sprinted ahead from nothing to engagement in a matter of minutes, not weeks or months. This could confound things with Papa even more. He didn’t like surprises.

“
I will. I will talk to him by tomorrow.”

He raised her hand, pressed it against his bristly mutton chop whiskers. Bursting heat shot through her entire body, up to her head, then down to her toes. She felt the urge to embrace him, kiss him.

“
There’s something else,” he said.

He let go of her hands, rose slowly, and walked to the window by his desk, then stared out solemnly into the gray light.
Drat
. There was something awful he hadn’t told her yet, something that would stand in their way.

“
What is it, Mac?”

“
I want you to come with me even if your father doesn’t approve, even if he doesn’t accept me.”

She hadn’t fully considered this. She had hoped there would be a way to convince Papa, that there would be a month or two for Mac to prove himself, and of course, he could prove himself. He was remarkable. If she wanted to marry him, everything would eventually fall into place. Papa would be an obstacle, she knew that, but there would be a way to sway him.

He returned to her, knelt by her chair, put an arm around the back of it, and took her hand again. His face was close to hers, his brown eyes moist. She smelled the lemon and vanilla of his pomade.

“
What we will have, what is ours to have, is too powerful, too wondrous, for anyone to prevent. I beg you. Come with me whatever he says.”