With Every Breath (12 page)

Naturally, when she asked him about it, he was as closemouthed as ever. “I’ve always admired how the Indian people respect other people’s privacy,” Trevor said. “So rare in this world.”

No amount of prying could coax any insight from him, but it made Kate determined to find out more. Her opportunity came one morning when an orderly from downstairs came bursting into the clinic.

“Dr. Kendall is needed in surgery right away. A railway worker got too close to the crane hook, and it tore his stomach open. His insides are all on the outside now. Dr. Flynn wants Dr. Kendall to assist.”

Trevor heard and was already shrugging into a lab coat.

Kate felt a little weak in the knees. She couldn’t imagine what it must take to handle a man’s intestines, but Trevor was unflappable as he followed the orderly out the door. Maybe it was good that Trevor was so cold. If anyone would have a steady hand under such circumstances, it would be a man with no heart.

There was little for her to do until Trevor examined the patients and provided her with a new set of data to analyze. It gave her a perfect opportunity to snoop into his private life. She glanced around the clinic, noting two patients playing checkers in the sitting area, and another woman reading. They were far enough away not to hear whispers, so Kate drew a chair up close to the nurses’ station. It was time to pick Nurse Ackerman’s brain.

“Do you know why Dr. Kendall was in India?”

“No. I didn’t realize he had been.”

Kate tried not to let her disappointment show. There were so many things about Trevor that were a mystery. “Does he have any family at all? Any friends?”

“Not that I know of. We have to beat the young nurses off him with a stick, but he never shows the slightest interest in any of them.”

That seemed odd. Trevor was a handsome man, and as far as she knew, he had never been married or even courted a girl.
It was disturbing, but she had to admit he was a very attractive man. If she didn’t know him so well, she might even be one of those silly girls fawning over him.

He was the complete opposite of Nathan. Her husband had been a laughing man who flirted with everyone, but especially her. Whatever emotion Nathan was feeling was written plainly on his face for all to see.

Trevor was different. Austere and reserved, she wondered what it would be like to peek beneath that shell. Trevor wasn’t emotionless. Oh no. She’d caught glimpses of a mighty passion simmering beneath the surface, but he always held it so tightly locked down. Restrained. What would it be like to tear away his stern outer layer and see that smoldering emotion unleashed?

She shook herself. This was
Trevor
she was thinking about, and she ought to be horrified to be contemplating such things.

“Where does he live?” she asked Nurse Ackerman, who must know because there were times when he needed to be summoned for an emergency.

“That’s the strange thing. He has a room over the central train station. We told him it was a terrible place to live, because the racket of those trains never stops, but he said it was a decent room that leases very cheaply. Dr. Flynn helped him move in, and he says the man lives like a monk.”

That did seem odd. If Trevor was so wealthy, why did he scrimp like that?

Trevor was bound to be occupied in surgery for hours, which meant she had the office to herself. She drifted back to her desk. Taking out a sheet of paper, she made a list of all the places and dates where she knew Trevor had been. She traced him through Harvard, his years of research in Germany and Paris, and then back for additional research studies in Baltimore and Philadelphia.

Where was he from 1887 to 1888? There were no newspaper clippings, no awards or diplomas. It seemed strange for him to disappear so completely from the world of medical research.

Her gaze trailed to the row of filing cabinets that covered one side of their office. She only used the last set of drawers to file patient statistics. Most of the others were stuffed with files from Trevor’s earlier studies. She had no business poking through those drawers, but temptation clawed at her. All she wanted was to know if any of those files corresponded with the years she couldn’t account for Trevor’s whereabouts.

The drawers were organized in chronological sequence, yet not a single file dated to 1887 or 1888. The file closest to Trevor’s desk was locked, with a shiny silver lock at the top that kept all the drawers fastened tight. She gave each drawer a tug just to be sure. She’d bet the shirt off her back there was something in these drawers about the missing two years.

There were more certificates and awards on the board outside the conference room downstairs. Grabbing a pad of paper, she dashed downstairs to examine the board, looking in vain for mention of anyplace Trevor might have been during 1887–88.

There was nothing. She stared at the collection of awards and certificates. Where was he during those years?

“I’ve been looking for you.” Trevor’s voice cut through the bustle of the hallway. “You’re needed upstairs. We’re late in gathering data.” Trevor looked exhausted, and she remembered where he had spent the last several hours.

“How did the surgery go?”

“He’s alive, but infection is going to be a problem. I doubt he’ll make it. What were you doing down here?”

“Snooping around into your past.”

One corner of his mouth tilted up in something that looked like it wanted to become a smile. “Learn anything interesting?”

“Where were you in 1887 and 1888?”

The smile vanished. “That’s really none of your business, Kate.”

“India? I’m guessing you were in India.”

“What makes you say that?”

“Tobias Jones mentioned the Himalayas. Your penchant for seeing your name in print let me trace where you’ve been for most of the last twelve years, all except those missing two years.” Another thought captured her. “Maybe you were doing something terribly un-Trevor-like and were out having fun. Living with the Gypsies or exploring the romantic streets of Paris.”

“Kate, you need to drop it.”

“There’s that charming man we all know so well. I thought you were likely to bite Tobias Jones’s head off the other morning, and the man has more power in this city than the pharaohs of Egypt.”

“I have no interest in licking the boots of government officials. Come on, we’re late.”

She wanted to point out how close he had been to alienating a potential ally, but he was already walking down the hall. How typical.

“Why can’t we ever have a real conversation?” she asked as she trailed after him. “How am I supposed to know what question is going to set you off?”

“Here’s an idea,” he said tightly. “How about we limit our conversation to issues pertaining to tuberculosis and the treatment of our patients? Would that be a good starting point?”

“It would be if we both lacked an ounce of natural curiosity or basic human warmth.” He opened the stairwell door and started clomping up the stairs. By heaven, she was getting tired of speaking to the back of his head. “Is this how they teach
people to treat one another in the Himalayas? Or Scotland? Or wherever you’re supposedly from?”

“I’m not listening to you, Kate.” He strode into the clinic, swinging the door so hard it smacked the opposite wall. Trevor liked to run and hide at the first hint of confrontation, but she wasn’t letting him escape this time. He was stalking down the hallway like a fox seeking shelter in its hole. He reached their office and tried to slam the door, but her foot blocked it.

Trevor whirled around and smacked both his hands high on the doorframe, blocking her entrance. “Go get the files to collect data,” he snapped. She ducked beneath his arm and slipped into the office.

“Not until you agree to come back to my house for dinner and behave like a normal human being. One with a pulse.”

A glint of amusement flickered in his eyes, and she could tell he was struggling not to smile. It was kind of fun arguing with Trevor. It always had been.

She grabbed a note card and a fountain pen from her desk. “You need to write my mother a note and politely ask to be invited back to dinner.”

“Don’t take offense, but I see no point in trying to win the approval of your mother. I’d have better luck wrangling with a saber-toothed tiger. If you don’t go start gathering data, I’ll begin searching for a more competent assistant.”

“Ha! As if anyone else would put up with you. Besides, I am the best thing that ever happened to this office.”

“Your modesty is a constant source of inspiration for us all,” he said.

“Where were you those two years?”

“Minding my own business. A sadly lost virtue for a category of people named Kate Livingston.”

It was almost two o’clock and they were badly behind sched
ule. As much as she wanted to keep probing, her first priority had to be the daily collection of patient data. She scooped up a handful of patient charts. “Don’t think I’m letting this drop.”

“I pray nightly for all manner of impossible dreams. I shall add ‘you letting it drop’ to the list.”

She was grinning as she followed him. How come the things that used to infuriate her about Trevor now made her laugh? His prickly demeanor and fastidious grooming. The austere bearing that hid a wickedly dry sense of humor. Had he been this funny back in school and she failed to notice?

She followed him down the hall to the men’s ward, waiting while he shrugged into a fresh lab coat and clamped a stethoscope around his neck. There were a lot of things she had failed to notice about Trevor until recently. Like the way emotion simmered in his dark eyes when he was passionate about something. Like how his entire face became quietly animated as he studied a problem. There was something immensely attractive about that quiet, smoldering intelligence.

She needed to guard against the peculiar magnetism that hummed between them, because giving in to this infatuation with Trevor would be the worst sort of foolishness. He would probably brush her off the way he did all the other nurses who hankered after him, and it would be mortifying. She and Trevor had developed a real friendship, and it would be at risk the moment he sensed she had a romantic interest in him.

But she had to work alongside him every day, and it was getting harder to pretend she didn’t long for more.

* * * *

Trevor’s habit of disappearing up to the roof most afternoons continued. He always informed Nurse Ackerman of where he would be but refused to tell Kate what he was doing
up there. Honestly, Trevor was more closemouthed than a clam at low tide.

What was he doing up there? At first she thought he might be escaping to smoke a pipe, as tobacco was strictly forbidden in the tubercular wards, but he never smelled of smoke when he returned. And quite frankly she couldn’t imagine anyone as fastidious as Trevor inhaling smoky air into his lungs.

One bright August day her curiosity got the better of her, and she decided to follow him. The staircase leading to the roof was so narrow, she had to gather her skirts and turn sideways as she climbed. A rickety door led to the outside. She twisted the knob slowly, careful not to make any sound as she opened the door and stepped outside.

The asphalt on the rooftop was cracked and buckled, with weeds growing in the gaps. Chimney stacks and terra cotta ventilation pipes dotted the huge space, which was almost two acres wide. The entire roof was surrounded by a low brick wall. A nice breeze tugged at her hair, smelling fresh and clean as she looked out over the treetops.

Where was Trevor? She tiptoed so as not to give herself away. Moving a little farther, she saw his boots sticking out from behind a chimney stack. Was he lying down?

She skirted more until she could see the rest of him. She gasped. He was half naked!

Trevor was lying on a full-length chaise, without a shirt and basking in the sun. He shot upright when he heard her gasp.

“What are you doing up here?” he asked.

“What am
I
doing? I’m not the one who’s half naked on the roof!”

Now she knew why Trevor was no longer the pale ghost he’d been back in their school days. He was baking in the sun every day. Kate turned away, a flush heating her checks. Never in her
wildest dreams had she ever wanted to see Trevor McDonough without a shirt.

He didn’t seem too happy about it either. From the corner of her eye she saw him tugging his shirt on with jerky motions. “Am I needed downstairs?”

“No.”

“Then why are you up here?”

“I was curious. Are you decent?”

“As much as I ever am.”

She turned with caution. He was still sitting on the chaise, hastily fastening the buttons on his shirt. But the collar was still open, revealing the tanned skin on his neck and the top of his chest. A healthy flush stained his cheeks, but he didn’t look angry, only a little embarrassed. She risked a jab.

“So. You really do sun yourself on a rock to generate body heat.”

The glint of amusement was back. “Whenever the sun is bright. I obviously need a lot of it.”

“Why?” She was genuinely intrigued. While the roof was a barren, inhospitable two acres of asphalt, the breeze was fresh and the view of the treetops soothing.

“I think there may be a medicinal value in sunlight,” Trevor said. “I’m running a test.”

“On yourself?”

“It wouldn’t be the first time. I’m trying to refrain from eating beef but see if I can duplicate the same medicinal qualities in my blood by lying in the sun.”

“Now, that is beyond foolish.”

“Children with rickets can be healed by a sunlight regimen. Patients who suffer from nerve disorders also seem to benefit. I have been toying with the idea of testing it on tuberculosis.”

She drew a step closer. Trevor nudged a wooden footstool
toward her and gestured for her to sit. “All over the world, doctors are experimenting with sanitariums in the mountains. The idea is that the dry, clear air of the mountains may provide the proper conditions for the lungs to heal.”

She sat and arranged her skirts around her as Trevor described the theory behind the mountaintop-sanitarium treatment.