With Every Breath (34 page)

“I need to see you,” he said. “Up on the roof.”

The roof was their sanctuary, a haven where they shared their innermost dreams during those wonderful stolen hours.
She followed him up the narrow staircase onto the flat of the roof. Trevor walked toward the far wall, bracing his hands on the ledge to look out over the city. It was breezy, and she tugged the folds of her cloak tighter.

“I never saw it coming,” Trevor said. “I’ve always been so careful about guarding myself against getting too close to the patients, but I never realized the people around me might blame themselves for the decisions I made.”

His hands were clenched into fists. They were shaking. It hurt to see him so miserable, but Kate held her tongue, knowing the best thing for Trevor was to unload the turmoil he’d kept bottled inside.

“He’s gone insane, Kate. If you could have seen the look in his eyes. Sheer revulsion and hatred.”

“Don’t blame yourself for this. It wasn’t your fault.”

“It’s
entirely
my fault,” Trevor countered. “Andrew would have been a good doctor, but what happened in Baltimore so traumatized him, he can’t lay a finger on a patient for fear of making a mistake. He was fine in medical school. I saw him every time I was in Boston and I never sensed anything wrong. But when it came time to work with real people, the old memories came to the surface and he couldn’t do it. He blamed me for involving him in that study, and that blame is not entirely misplaced.” She hated the hollow, hopeless look in Trevor’s eyes, and she laid a hand over his trembling fist.

“Generals on the battlefield make mistakes, and some men die,” she said softly. “Doctors make mistakes and the same thing happens. You’re human, Trevor. If you can’t forgive yourself for making a mistake, you’ll start floundering like Andrew Doyle, and that would be a terrible waste of your God-given talents.”

Trevor took a deep breath, refusing to meet her eyes. “I don’t
know what’s going to happen to him. I don’t want to press charges, but Andrew can’t be allowed to run loose.”

“Aren’t there places for people with that sort of sickness?”

“An insane asylum? I think he’d rather go to prison.”

“Tick said he doesn’t think the charges will amount to much.”

“Maybe not.” Trevor turned and grasped her hand. “Thanks for listening to me ramble. I needed to talk, and you’re the only person who really understands.”

He drew her into the circle of his arms, squeezing tightly as he buried his face against her neck. She sensed a weakness in him, like a mighty oak that was growing weary of battling the storm and was in danger of toppling in the face of relentless winds. She’d never seen Trevor this needy before, and now she was about to walk out on him as well.

All she could do was return his embrace and pray he would find the strength to continue the battle on his own, because it was time for her to leave.

23

H
ow
do
you
say
goodbye
to
a
woman
you
know
will
die
before
you
see
her
again?
It was Kate’s last day at the hospital. She’d already said goodbye to each patient in the men’s ward and was exhausted from the task. Her cotton mask hid her trembling lips as she said goodbye to each woman, but several times she had to dab her eyes with the cuff of her sleeve.

“God bless you, Margaret,” she said. “I’ll be keeping you in my prayers.”

“Good luck, Kate,” Margaret said, barely having the energy to turn her head on the pillow. “Where are you off to next?”

“I’m not quite sure. I’ll help at my parents’ boardinghouse until I can find a paying job.”

It was a conversation she repeated countless times as she spoke to each woman, clasping the patient’s hands and smiling directly into her eyes. On her first day at the hospital, Kate had been afraid to even stand close to these people. Many of the attendants who brought the meals had the same reluctance, and yet this simple bit of human contact meant so much to the people in this ward.

She moved on to the next bed. “God bless you, Ethel,” she
continued. “I’ll always remember sharing in your sweet granddaughter’s baptism.”

Trevor hovered in the open doorway, glowering at her as she said these final goodbyes, which was insane. If he wanted her to stay, he knew how he could make it happen. After saying goodbye to the last of the women, she walked on shaking legs to the door. She mustn’t look back; she had to keep walking. Trevor remained planted in the doorway as she approached.

“I need to pack up my desk,” she said. He still didn’t budge, so she angled her body to slip past him. Once in the hallway, she tugged her mask down to blow her nose. She shoved the handkerchief into her pocket, then pressed her fingers to her swollen eyes.

The box Kate brought to pack her belongings filled quickly as she emptied her desk. A couple of framed family photographs and a fancy pen Charlie Davis gave her when she graduated from school. A dish for lemon drops, and her paperweight with a daisy blossom that would remain forever frozen in silent perfection inside the glass. She cleared away an empty flower vase and used a rag to wipe up a few dried curls of chrysanthemum petals from the corner of her desk. Mr. Walsh was beginning next Monday, and it was only fair to leave him a clean desk.

“So this is the end.” Trevor’s voice was flat as he leaned against the doorframe.

“I suppose so.” She tipped the dead flower petals into the wastebasket and brushed the grit from her hands.

“I went looking for you when I got back to Washington because I thought you would never surrender. I thought you were up for any challenge and would rather go down fighting than quit before you got to the finish line.”

How typical for Trevor to pick a fight before she left. “I have
no interest in the finish line for the race you are on. You will
die
, Trevor.”

“Maybe. Maybe not.”

She emptied the last of the pencils from a drawer and slammed it shut. How could she have fallen in love with such an ironhearted man? All she wanted to do was finish her business and get out of here, but there was one final thing she needed from Trevor. She swallowed and composed herself.

“You once said you would write a letter for Tick’s application to the Naval Academy. I hope you’re still willing to do that. The applications are due at the end of January.”

There was a long pause, and she turned to look at him. With his arms folded across his chest and his faultless posture, he looked so handsome it almost hurt. His features were somber as he stared at her.

“Kate, you need to lay off Tick.”

She blinked. “What?”

“He doesn’t want to go to the Naval Academy. Let him make his own decisions for his life.”

“I raised Tick. I know exactly what he wants out of life.”

Trevor shook his head. “I see him as the man he is today, and you still see the boy you raised. You don’t understand the hold you have over him. Tick would do
anything
for you, but it’s time to let him go.” A reluctant smile tugged at the corner of his mouth. “Tick won’t let you down. You raised a smart and strong man and have every right to be proud of him. I won’t write him a letter of recommendation unless he asks for one and, Kate . . . I don’t think he will.”

“I think you’re wrong.”

She scanned the room, looking for any final belongings. Now that the office was stripped of the frilly feminine touches, it looked as blank as a monk’s cell.

Except for a fancy box sitting on the edge of Trevor’s desk. Covered in Italian marbled paper, it looked out of place in the barren office. She pointed to the box. “What’s that?”

“A crystal vase,” he said. “My father is getting married this weekend, and I thought it would be a suitable gift.”

“Are you going?”

“Yes.”

She let out a sigh. “I can’t believe you’re putting yourself back into that man’s orbit.”

“He’s my only living relative. Perhaps you have an abundance of family and friends, but I do not.”

“He sent his child to the other side of the planet because you were an embarrassment and he wanted a rich wife.”

“He’s my
father
, Kate. He’s not perfect. And this may come as a stunning surprise, but neither are you.”

She turned away from the condemnation in his eyes, forcibly checking each of her desk drawers to be sure they were clear. “You changed your name because you despised him.”

“I was eighteen. It was a stupid and impulsive thing to do, but I’ve built a reputation on my new name, and it’s too late to go back now. I want to establish some kind of relationship with him, because the rift between us was as much my fault as his. He’s not a bad man, but I painted him as one because it eased my conscience.”

Trevor’s face remained emotionless. She once mistook that look for apathy, but now she knew it to be the look he hid behind when his emotions threatened to get the better of him. Trevor always hid rather than confront problems head on. How could she expect him to know how to handle normal human emotions when he never had any friends or family to speak of?

She knelt on the floor beside her paltry box of possessions, her hands on the rim. “Trevor, if you would find another type
of medicine to pursue, I would follow you anywhere. To a rural practice on the Dakota plains. To China. The North Pole. Anything but this.”

Trevor came to kneel beside her, and for a fraction of a second her heart leapt in hope. He closed the flaps of the box and pushed it toward her.

“Kate, go home.”

Then he stood and left the room.

* * * *

Kate trudged up the stairs to the boardinghouse and fumbled at the knob, using her shoulder to nudge open the door. She dumped the box onto the sofa in the parlor and plopped down beside it.

For the first time in twelve years she had no job and no purpose. The boardinghouse was going under, and her heart had just been smashed beneath Trevor’s will of iron. She had lost Trevor. In the most important battle she ever had with him, she had lost.

Pans clattered in the kitchen, but she couldn’t face her mother yet. Her mother would rally to Kate’s defense, but if she said one negative thing about Trevor, Kate would snap. The back door slammed, and her father came up the hallway, wiping his hands on an oily rag. That new hot water heater required more tending than any of them anticipated. And it still needed to be paid for.

“The mail arrived,” her father said. “A letter for you.”

Kate took the letter, her breath catching at the sight of Trevor’s distinctive handwriting across the front of the envelope. She clutched it and headed to the front stoop. She didn’t want anyone watching her as she read it.

She sat on the steps outside and ripped the envelope open.

Why had Trevor sent her a bank check for two thousand dollars? She unfolded the note.

Dear Kate,

The attached check should cover several months of the mortgage on your parents’ boardinghouse and finish paying for the hot water heater. I hope this will compensate for the damage caused by Andrew Doyle.

I have never been good with difficult conversations, which is why a note is easier than speaking with you. Despite how it ended, your friendship has been the most meaningful of my life. I don’t know if I will die next year or in fifty years, but I am quite certain the memory of our friendship will sustain me as long as I live.

In all our battles over the years, even when it seemed like I came out on top, you were always the best, Kate.

Trevor

Postscript: I believe in clean endings, so please consider this our final communication. Don’t return to the hospital. You won’t be welcome.

She wanted to weep. How typically Trevor. Even when he was trying to be nice, he had to spoil it at the end. But she loved him, blunt edges and all.

Should she treasure this letter or tear it to pieces? Her smile was sad as she folded the note and gently tucked it back into the envelope. Her parents would be overjoyed when she showed them this check. It would lift a burden that had been weighing on their spirits, but she couldn’t face them quite yet.

She curled over, clasping the letter and pressing her forehead to her knees. There were plenty of battles in life she could never win, but she’d just lost the biggest.

24

T
wo weeks after Kate quit her job, Irene Bauman finally pushed her father over the edge. As the blustery December rain turned into sleet one afternoon, Justice Bauman left his work at the Supreme Court early to avoid an impending snowstorm. After shaking ice crystals from his overcoat, he followed the sound of his daughter’s laughter back to the laundry room, where she had trapped one of the new boarders, an English professor from Georgetown.

With her bloomers pulled up, her stockings tugged down, and her skirts gathered up around her hips, Irene was boasting about the shapeliness of her knees, proudly displaying them from various angles and bragging how they weren’t knobby like other girls’ knees, and the professor should feel the smoothness of her skin, because she used cocoa butter every evening to soften it.

Kate could hear the bellows of outrage all the way on the fourth floor. It was clear Irene could no longer be left alone during the day, so her father put her to work in his office. Even there it was dicey to trust her among the all-male staff without oversight. The clerks at the Supreme Court were lawyers with degrees from the best colleges in the land. They were intelligent
young men, but they weren’t blind, and that was where Kate came into play.

“You’d be a fine secretary to oversee the operations in the office,” Justice Bauman said. “You could keep an eye on Irene too. If you can show her a woman can aspire to something more than hair ribbons or shapely knees, I will be forever in your debt.”