For personal use and select distribution only © by Becky January 2007

Elizabeth sat at the head of the table, put on her spectacles and flipped through her paperwork purposefully. Half a dozen of Boston’s wealthiest, most prominent women were gathered at her table, each absorbed in their own notes and paperwork. Martha and Fiona circled the table, keeping teacups filled and making sure there was enough sugar and cream.

Elizabeth picked up her pen. “Ruth, you should contact the Globe this week about donating free advertising. They were so generous last year.”

One of the women scribbled some notes on her papers. “Oh, yes, certainly. And Standish Advertising has agreed to print our flyers for free if we provide the paper.”

“Wonderful,” Elizabeth said as the clock chimed nine o’clock. “My, look at the time. We should adjourn. Ladies, I do believe this will be our grandest flower show yet.”

Martha rushed to the front closet as the women gathered their leather folders and handbags and made their way to the door. Martha helped everyone with their coats as Elizabeth saw them out the door like the perfect hostess. Elizabeth peeked into the dining room as the last woman left.

“Martha, clean up that mess for me, will you? I’m going to retire for the night. I’m exhausted.”

“Certainly, mum. Right away. Goodnight.” Martha rushed back to the dining room and began gathering the teacups and all the papers Elizabeth had left behind.

“Goodnight, Martha,” Elizabeth called, heading for the staircase. She pressed one hand to the small of her back. Time was taking its toll on her, as much as she hated to admit it. She had chaired the charity flower show to benefit Massachusetts General Hospital every year for twenty years, except for the year that Michaela and Sully were married. Even then she had remained heavily involved, acting as co-chair despite having to miss the actual show itself. But the last few shows had been difficult on her. She wasn’t her usual spry self. She had made a few minor mistakes that nonetheless irritated her to no end, misspelling some names on the invitations and nearly forgetting to contact a few of their biggest supporters. And physically, her bones ached, her arthritis was flaring up, and she found herself incredibly tired after the many long but necessary committee meetings. Her eyesight had been weakening lately as well. She found she couldn’t read a thing anymore without her spectacles and often a strong magnifying glass. Still, she and the other women managed to continue putting on a fine show and raising quite a bit of money for the hospital Josef had worked at, and she planned to remain chairwoman until she was on her deathbed.

Elizabeth smiled to herself as she ascended the first step of the carpeted staircase. “Elizabeth Quinn, you still have it,” she said wryly.

She took another step and suddenly the toe of her boot became caught on her petticoat. She tried to grab the banister but it was too late and she went tumbling down the two steps to the floor, landing square on her side. She heard a large crunch and a horrible popping sound, and instantly intense, paralyzing pain shot up and down her left leg. She struggled to speak, overwhelmed by the pain.

“Martha,” she cried instinctively. “Martha! Martha!”

The chambermaid rushed back into the room, stopping short at the sight of her mistress prostrate on the floor. “Oh, dear heavens. Mrs. Quinn! What happened?”

“What does it look like? I fell!” Elizabeth retorted.

“Oh, Mrs. Quinn. Oh, Mrs. Quinn,” Martha murmured, crouching down beside her and bursting into tears.

“Stop carrying on and go find Harrison, tell him to run and fetch the doctor,” Elizabeth said, gritting her teeth in agony. “For heaven’s sake, hurry!”

The children were playing outside in the schoolyard as Michaela walked across the meadow. She shielded her eyes from the sun and spotted the boys on one of the seesaws and Katie skipping rope nearby with a few other little girls.

“Byron, Katie, Red Eagle!” she called, waving cheerfully.

“Mama!” Byron shouted. He jumped from the seesaw, sending Red Eagle crashing to the ground.

Red Eagle recovered quickly and got up, following behind Byron. Katie abandoned the rope and chased after them.

“You came to pick us up!” Katie called.

Michaela enveloped them all in a tight embrace. “The clinic’s been so slow today. I thought you could come and keep me company.”

“I’ll help roll bandages,” Katie offered enthusiastically.

“How was school today?” Michaela asked.

“Good,” Byron replied. “We learned about reptiles.”

“Do you have any homework?”

“Not really. Just spelling and some arithmetic,” Red Eagle said.

“Good. You can work on it at the clinic.”

“But, Mama. We can do it later,” Byron protested.

“Yeah, I want to help you at the clinic,” Katie added.

“I want you to at least start on your homework first. Then you can help me out to your heart’s content,” she replied. “Go get your things and we’ll walk over.”

Katie, Byron and Red Eagle rushed back to the seesaw, gathered their books and lunch pails, and hurried back to Michaela.

Katie grabbed her mother’s hand and beamed up at her as they walked toward the bridge.

“Where’s Papa, Mama?” Byron asked. “Thought he was gonna pick us up.”

“He and Brian went out to Mr. James’ place to chop down a tree for him. Apparently it got hit by lightning last night. They‘ll be back in time for supper.”

“Why can’t he do it himself?” Byron replied.

“He’s old, silly. He’s too old to chop a tree,” Katie explained.

Michaela put her hand on Byron’s shoulder. “We should help out the elderly whenever we can. When people get older things that were once quite easy for them can suddenly become impossible. Friends should help their older friends.”

“Oh,” Byron said pensively.

“Well, what sorts of reptiles are you studying?” Michaela asked.

“Snakes and crocodiles,” Red Eagle said excitedly. “Crocodiles have big teeth. And their blood is cold.”

“Their blood is cold and they eat people,” Byron added.

“They do not eat people,” Katie protested.

Michaela noticed Horace jogging off the clinic porch and looking toward the meadow. He spotted Michaela and the children and ran toward them.

“They do too eat you if you get too close,” Byron said. “Mama, don’t crocodiles eat people? Tell Katie.”

Michaela stopped. “Something‘s wrong,” she murmured.

“What?” Red Eagle asked, looking up at her.

Horace approached them, out of breath. He handed Michaela a folded piece of paper. “Telegram just came in from your sister, Dr. Mike.”

Michaela knew immediately it was probably about their mother. Rebecca usually wrote her a letter when she wanted to tell her something. She only used telegrams in an emergency. She opened the paper with trepidation and quickly read it.

All three of the children looked up at her curiously. “Who’s it from, Mama?” Katie whispered. “Auntie Rebecca?”

Michaela folded the telegram and smoothed back the little girl’s hair. “Your grandmother had an accident. She broke her hip and had to have an operation.”

“Oh!” Byron said. “Don’t worry, her doctor in Boston’s gonna make her all better.”

“Can we send her a card, Mama?” Katie asked.

“Yes, of course,” Michaela replied. “Come on, let’s get to the clinic.”

“Want me to book you a ticket for tomorrow’s train to St. Louis?” Horace asked, a little surprised at how calm Michaela was remaining at the news her mother was hurt.

“No,” Michaela replied simply, grasping Katie’s hand and walking past him.

Brian took a long swig from his canteen and wiped his face off with his bandana. He and Sully had been working hard taking care of Eli James’ tree and had been patiently putting up with the grumpy old man’s criticism all afternoon.

They had chopped down the tree and now were cutting it into firewood. It was a project that was taking a lot longer than either of them had planned, and they both were getting tired and hungry.

Brian picked up the crosscut saw again and braced it against the trunk and Sully grabbed the other end.

“Pa, you know of any odd jobs around town?” Brian asked as they quickly began sawing through the thick wood.

“Odd jobs? Thought Miss Dorothy was givin’ ya plenty of work.”

“She does. Just lookin’ for more is all.”

“I can keep my ears open,” he replied. “Savin’ up for somethin’ special?”

He shrugged. “Just tryin’ to think ahead.”

“Plannin’ a weddin’ can really put a hole in your pocket,” Sully remarked.

“Weddin’? Who said anything about a weddin’?” Brian replied quickly.

He smiled. “Nobody.”

“What in tarnation’s takin’ you two so long?” Eli shouted as he hobbled his way toward Brian and Sully, relying heavily on his cane. “It’s damn near my bedtime. How’s a body to get any sleep with all the commotion out here?”

“We’re almost done,” Sully replied. “We’ll just stack this firewood for ya and we’ll be outta here.”

“I didn’t ask for firewood. I asked for my tree to get chopped down,” he retorted.

“Seems like a waste to just leave all this wood out here, Mr. James,” Brian said sensibly.

“Well, bring it back to the cabin then. But hurry up about it. Young folks these days, they‘re slower than molasses,” he said, turning around and returning to his cabin, muttering all the way about how his generation had been much more hardworking and diligent than anyone since.

“He’s sure an ornery old timer,” Brian remarked, shaking his head as they continued to saw.

Sully shrugged. “Your ma says he’s got bad knees, some days can’t even get out of bed. He used to be a real friendly man, on the town council a long time ago, ran a cobblin’ business. Now he’s stuck here most days alone. That would make anybody ornery.”

“Oh. That’s too bad,” Brian said, squatting down and piling some of the logs into his arms. “He’s right, we should hurry. Ma’s makin’ ham and beans for supper.”

Sully glanced up at him with a wry smile and sawed all the faster.

Byron rested his chin on his hands and watched Red Eagle quickly write down his answers on his slate at the dining room table.

“When are you gonna tell Mama?” Red Eagle asked, looking up briefly and turning a page in his arithmetic primer.

“I will. Soon,” Byron said defensively.

“Want me to tell her for you?”

“No, I’ll tell her,” Byron said firmly. He slowly got up from the table and entered the kitchen. Michaela was handing Katie a stack of plates to put around the table.

“Hey, Mama,” Byron said innocently. “Supper smells good.”

“What happened to your arithmetic?” she asked, opening a drawer and taking out some silverware. “Are you done already? Let me see your slate.”

He shifted his weight from one leg to the other. “Well, you can’t.”

She put the silverware on the counter. “I see. So you haven’t finished.”

“No, it’s done. I did it in my head.”

She sighed. “Byron, just go back to the table and write the problems on your slate. You know better.”

“I can’t,” he murmured. “I don’t have my slate.”

“Don’t have your slate? Did you forget it at school? Oh, Byron.”

He looked up guiltily. “It broke today.”

“Oh? How pray tell did this happen?” She grabbed a towel and opened the oven door, pulling out a pan with some cornbread.

“Well, see, this rock came up out of nowhere and it cracked it.”

“He was playing catch with it,” Katie spoke up as she reentered the room and grabbed the pile of silverware. “He and some other boys were seeing how high they could throw it.”

“Shh,” Byron scolded.

“Byron, you have a dozen baseballs at school and you had to play catch with your slate?” Michaela opened a pot on the stovetop and stirred the beans inside.

“Well, see, we-” he replied helplessly.

“I can’t believe how careless you were,” she went on. “I hope you don’t treat all things we buy you like that.”

“No, ma’am,” he murmured.

“Well, Mama has a lot of patients right now who haven‘t been able to pay me just yet. It might be a few days before we can get you a new slate. Go find some paper on my desk and you can write your answers on that.”

“Yes, ma’am,” he said guiltily, turning around and glanced out the window as he thought he heard a wagon. His expression brightened when he spotted Sully and Brian pulling up to the porch. He bolted out the front door. “Papa! Papa!” the little boy cried.

Sully pulled back on the reins. “What’s wrong?”

“Gran’ma broke her hip,” he announced as Sully jumped down from the wagon. “She had to have an operation.”

Sully shared a concerned glance with Brian.

“I’ll unhitch the team, put the tools away,” Brian offered. “Go talk to Ma.”

“Help your brother,” Sully told Byron as he hurried up the porch stairs and inside. He found Michaela in the kitchen at the stove.

“Byron just told me,” he said. “What happened?”

Michaela looked strangely relaxed and composed given the news she had just received. She was wearing an apron and stirring the pot of beans while Katie pulled out some napkins from the drawer to put on the table.

“I’m not sure. Apparently she tripped on the stairs.”

“He says she had to have surgery, too.”

“Yes, Dr. Hanson operated on her yesterday.” She took the beans off the burner and selected a large bowl from the shelf next to the stove.

He stepped toward her and put his hand on her shoulder, squeezing it. “I’ll handle things here. I’ll stay with the kids. We’ll be fine.”

She glanced at him and began dishing up the beans into the bowl.

He looked at her with confusion. “I can get ya packed. Tell me how to help.”

“Pack for what?” she replied.

He let out a soft chuckle. “To see your ma. Thought ya would catch the first train out of here tomorrow mornin’.”

She shrugged. “Rebecca says she came through the surgery fine and she’s resting now. There’s not much I can do.”

Katie came back into the room and watched her parents timidly. “The table’s set,” she whispered.

Sully folded his arms. “Michaela, this sounds serious. Surgery at her age?”

“I’m not going, Sully,” she replied simply. “My sisters tend to exaggerate. And Rebecca promised to keep me updated.” She put a spoon in the bowl of beans. “Katie, go find your brothers and tell them it’s time for supper.”

Sully slowly rolled over in bed, opening his eyes. He touched the empty place beside him. It was cool. Michaela had been up for some time. The pleasant aroma of cinnamon and pumpkin and nutmeg filled the room. Perplexed, he got out of bed and made his way downstairs, rubbing his arms against the early morning chill.

“Michaela?” he called hoarsely, entering the much warmer kitchen.

He found her hunched over the hot oven, pulling out a steaming pumpkin pie with two towels. She rested it on a potholder on the table next to two other pies that were cooling. She was wearing her slippers and bathrobe and had tied back her hair with a piece of rawhide. The table was covered in a dusting of flour and the sink was full of dirty bowls and measuring cups and stirring spoons.

“What ya doin’ down here?” he asked.

“Baking,” she replied simply.

“At five in the mornin’?” he replied. “Ya hungry or something?”

She shrugged. “I couldn’t sleep. I keep telling the children I’ll bake them a pie but haven‘t gotten around to it.”

“Smells good,” he said, reaching his hand out toward one of the pies.

She quickly swatted his hand away. “Don’t touch.”

He leaned against the table, gazing at her. “Ya look beautiful.”

She smiled sheepishly. “I have dark circles under my eyes.”

He reached his hand up and smoothed away a dusting of flour from her cheek. “Ya sleep at all?” he whispered, concerned.

“Not much,” she whispered back.

“Don’t blame ya. Ya must be thinkin’ about Boston.”

“Not really,” she replied quickly. She had always been a horrible liar.

“Michaela, I know how much ya love your ma. How worried ya are. You wanna tell me what’s really goin’ on? You and your ma have a fight?”

“A fight through the mail?” Michaela replied, turning to the sink and rinsing one of the measuring cups under the pump.

“Knowin’ Elizabeth it’s possible,” he said wryly.

She smiled softly. “No we didn’t have a fight.”

“Then what is it? Why don’t ya wanna go?”

She turned around to face him. “Sully, of course I want to go. It’s just…”

“What?” he pleaded. “Tell me.”

Her lip trembled. “Do you know how much it’s going to cost us to send me to Boston and back?”

“Yeah, I do. So?”

“So you’re always talking about how we have to be so careful about money. Especially now that we have Red Eagle to provide for, too. All the children need new shoes, and Byron broke his slate yesterday. Did he tell you? And you really need some new boots yourself. The pair you have is practically in tatters. And what about the wagon? You said yourself we really need a new one, that we’re pouring so much money into repairs we might as well get rid of it, and-”

He held up his hand, stopping her. “Byron can share Red Eagle’s slate for now. And we can put new shoes on credit, pay it off later. The wagon’ll hold up at least another couple of months. I don’t care about new boots for me. I can hold off. Michaela, we can make this work.”

She swallowed hard. “I just don’t want you to think I’m spending our hard-earned money running off to Boston every time Mother has a twinge.”

“I never thought that.” He caressed her shoulder. “Fact is your ma’s gettin’ older. I always knew somethin’ like this might happen eventually. And if it did I always told myself we‘d do whatever it took so you could go be with her.”

“You really mean that?” she whispered.

“Stop worryin’ about money. The kids are fine. I’m fine. Just go be with your ma and don‘t think about anything else.”

“Oh, Sully.” She stepped forward and hugged him tightly.

He kissed her head and rocked her.

Tears slipped down her cheeks. “Sully, hip fractures can be so serious. Even life-threatening for someone her age.”

“She’s gonna be all right. She’ll be fine,” he soothed.

“I suppose I’m frightened to go see her. What if she…she doesn’t recover?”

He stroked her hair. “She needs ya right now. Havin’ you there is only gonna help. It‘ll be all right. Once ya get there you‘ll be glad ya went.”

She nodded, holding him tighter.

He kissed her brow reassuringly. “Come on, let’s get ya packed.”

A warm prairie wind whipped across the plains as Michaela rested her arm on the ledge and looked out the window solemnly. It was the longest, loneliest train ride she had ever taken, and she wasn’t even halfway there yet. She was worried about everything, first and foremost her mother’s health and if she would even still be alive once she arrived. When she wasn’t thinking about her she worried about Sully and the children and wondered when she would see them again and how they would muddle through without her and she without them. And part of her worried about returning to Boston, going back to her hometown when so much more had changed since she had last been there. She had since married and had a family, and she was truly a Coloradoan now, with deep, stalwart roots there and a life separate and apart from everyone in Boston. In many ways, she had moved on without all of her old friends and family.

She clutched her medical bag in her lap. Boston was still the city she had grown up in, the place she had first embarked on learning the ways of the world, the place where among others, Elizabeth, Rebecca, Martha and especially Josef had helped to raise her and mold her into the adult she would become. Regardless that her mother needed her, she was long overdue for a visit.

Michaela opened the door to the hospital room. It was filled with colorful bouquets and had taken on a strong, pleasant aroma from all the flowers. Elizabeth was immobile in bed, eyes barely open, as a nurse finished changing her bandages. A feeding tube had been inserted into her nose and a long catheter ran down from beneath the sheets into a glass bottle below the bed. Michaela was shocked to see her mother looking so weak. Even when she was in the same hospital with hepatitis years ago, she had never looked so debilitated. Elizabeth had always been the rock of the family. She never got sick, never got hurt, and always had so much energy about everything. Now she was depleted of all her trademark strength.

“Mother?” Michaela called softly.

“We’re keeping her heavily sedated,” the nurse explained. “She probably won’t recognize you.”

Michaela placed her medical bag on the end of the bed and approached her, grasping her hand. It was cool and clammy. Michaela squeezed it.

“Mother?” she whispered again. “It’s Michaela.”

Slowly, Elizabeth turned her head to look at her. She raised her eyebrows ever so slightly at the welcome sight of her youngest daughter.

“You do recognize me,“ Michaela said, smiling tearfully. “Squeeze my hand if you can hear me.”

Elizabeth immediately squeezed, and Michaela was immensely relieved.

Elizabeth moved her lips slightly. “Mich…” she choked.

“Shh,” Michaela soothed, bringing her free hand up and stroking her brow. “Rest and get your strength back. I’m here now. Everything’s going to be fine.”

Dr. Hanson pointed to a drawing of the hip bone in the medical textbook on his desk as Michaela looked on pensively.

“It’s a femoral neck fracture, occurred just about here,” he explained. “I had her under the knife for two hours trying to piece it all back together.”

“Then it’s quite serious.”

“Any hip fracture is serious, Dr. Quinn. This one was no exception.”

She took a deep breath, looking up at him. “Will she walk again?”

He closed the book. “I’ve seen plenty of these kind of fractures over the years. Especially during the winter with the ice on the sidewalks. Unfortunately many patients don’t survive another six months, let alone walk again. Your mother is seventy-eight years old. I‘ve never seen someone her age make any kind of considerable recovery.”

“I’ve seen hip fractures too and they don’t have to be a death sentence. She’s strong. I know she has it in her to get better.”

He eyed her impatiently. “The femoral neck is a narrow structure with relatively little cancellous bone. In other words it doesn’t heal easily. She could develop osteonecrosis. If that happens there’s nothing I can do. And she’s also at a high risk for nonunion, a fracture that won’t fuse.”

“But if it does heal?” Michaela persisted.

“Well, then she’ll be very lucky. Then she may be able to learn to sit up, stand. Perhaps, and that’s a big perhaps, walk again. But Dr. Quinn, I caution you, you should approach this assuming she’s not going to get better. Assume she won’t walk again. Even if it does heal correctly, it’s going to take months. Once I’m able to send her home she‘s probably going to need someone caring for her day and night.”

Michaela bent her head, swallowing hard. “Mother’s never had to depend on anyone before.”

“That’s the reality of the situation. I’m very sorry.”

“No, I appreciate your frankness,” Michaela said. “Thank you, Dr. Hanson.”

Servants circled the table as Michaela, Claudette, Rebecca and her husband Marcus and Maureen and her husband Edward dined on beef tenderloin, green beans with walnuts and rosemary potatoes.

“Do you remember Father’s friend Mr. Moore? The banker?” Maureen asked. “He slipped on some ice last winter outside his home. He lived two months before he died.”

“Oh, yes, tragic,” Claudette remarked, taking a sip of water.

“As I recall Mr. Moore was at least ten years older than Mother,” Michaela said, buttering her roll. “And all hip fractures are different. Some can be worse than others. I don‘t know what kind of injuries he had but I can only assume they were much more serious.”

“Dr. Hanson said Mother’s bone shattered in a dozen pieces,” spoke up Marcus. “He said he’s never seen anyone recover from something like this.”

Maureen took out her lace handkerchief and dabbed at her nose. “Oh, I can’t believe this is happening. I can’t believe we’re going to lose our mother.”

“Apparently the only thing that ever brings you out here is Mother on her deathbed, Michaela,“ Claudette suddenly accused.

“Claudette, Michaela is practically destitute,” Maureen said. “We can’t expect her to make the long trip out here all the time. She has to feed her family for heaven’s sake.”

“We’re not destitute,” Michaela said defensively. “It’s just this recession has been hard on Colorado Springs. Everyone has had to make adjustments.”

“Tell us about this Indian boy you’ve adopted,” Claudette remarked, cutting her beef. “Mother said the only reason you wanted to take him in is because for some reason you and that mountain man can’t seem to have another baby.”

“That’s not how Mother feels anymore,” Rebecca spoke up firmly. “Now she thinks it’s a good thing Michaela and Sully taking in that poor little boy and so do I.”

“Well, none of the rest of us ever had any trouble getting in the family way,” Maureen said as one of the servants refilled her water glass. “I don’t understand what the problem is. You must not be doing something right.”

“She’s probably working night and day at that little hospital, just like Father did,” Claudette said disapprovingly. “No wonder she can’t have a baby. She never sees her husband just like Father never saw Mother. As it is it‘s a wonder any of us even exist what with the hours he used to work.”

Michaela felt her skin flush, mortified by the entire discussion. “Father was there for us. He was as attentive as he could possibly be given how hard he worked. And so am I to my family.”

“He was there for you, Michaela. His favorite,” Claudette retorted, taking a bite of beef and chewing indignantly.

“Claudette, please, let Michaela alone. She just got here,” Rebecca said, shaking her head. “Can’t we share one meal together in peace?”

“You always defended her,” Claudette replied. “There was nothing she could do wrong in your eyes. Well, you left the house just four years after she was born. You didn’t have to grow up with her!”

“Couldn’t we change the subject, please?” Rebecca said, glaring at Claudette firmly.

Michaela cleared her throat, desperate to steer the conversation to more neutral topics. “Claudette, how are your children? I hear William is doing well at Harvard.”

“Oh, yes, he just started his second year. He loves it and of course achieves perfect marks every term. As for Mollie, she’s still off gallivanting around San Francisco writing for that silly paper.” She sighed. “She reminds me of you, taking off without a second thought for how everyone who loves her the most feels about it.”

Rebecca shrugged. “I think San Francisco has been the best thing for Mollie. She’s a very talented writer. And I understand it’s quite an exciting town these days.”

“She’s going to fall in love out there and never come home again, I know it. Just like her auntie,” Claudette said sadly.

“I do so hope you can find the means to send your children back East when it’s time for them to go to university, Michaela,” Maureen remarked.

“From the sound of things you’d better start saving now,” Claudette added curtly.

“You just can’t find Harvards and Yales and Cornells out West,” Edward added, taking a sip of champagne.

“Perhaps by that time there will be universities closer to home like that,” Michaela said.

“Oh, things are hopelessly backwards out there, admit it,” Claudette said as Martha refilled her water glass. “I’d just waste away out there without all the amenities we have here. You must be so happy to be home, to be waited on again, to not want for anything.”

“I’m happy to be with our mother when she needs us the most,” Michaela said. She laid her fork and knife across her plate. “In fact I think I’ll go back to the hospital right now.” She glanced at Martha. “Could you ask Harrison to prepare the carriage, Martha?”

“Oh, what’s the point? Maureen said. “They’ve got her on so many medications she couldn‘t tell a cat from a dog.”

“I’m afraid she is in quite a stupor right now,” Rebecca admitted. “Maybe it’s best you stay here, Michaela.”

“That doesn’t mean she can’t still hear me, feel my hand holding hers,” Michaela replied, placing her napkin on the table and standing up. Marcus and Edward stood up with her courteously. “It was lovely to see you all again. Good evening.”

“Good evening, Michaela,” Marcus said politely.

“Don’t stay too long, Michaela,” Rebecca advised. “You need your rest after that long trip.”

“I won’t,” Michaela said fleetingly as she left the room and Harrison helped her with her cape.

Michaela sat in a chair beside Elizabeth’s bed and flipped through an orthopedics textbook of her father’s. The book was old and outdated, but there hadn’t been very much new research on hip injuries in recent years anyway. A few doctors had been brave enough to try some experimental surgeries, trying to replace a portion of the hip with a prosthesis made of glass or some other material, but had met with little success. Surgery or not, patients usually died shortly after their injury, or if they survived, they faced a very restricted existence.

She ran her fingers down a drawing of the pelvic bone. It was such an important part of the skeletal system, connecting the upper body to the legs, allowing humans to walk upright and providing for a wide range of movements. It was typically strong and flexible. But osteoporosis, a common condition doctors also knew little about, weakened the bones in old age, making the pelvis especially susceptible to injury. And once an injury occurred, it was next to impossible to restore it to normalcy.

Michaela looked up from the book, discouraged. She leaned forward and held her mother’s hand. Elizabeth was sleeping somewhat restlessly, waking every few minutes to mutter something or shift uncomfortably. Nurses coming in periodically to poke and prod her didn’t help. Michaela knew she would have to wire Sully and tell him what was happening. Her mother was even worse than she had feared, and she was going to be in Boston much longer than they had ever planned for.

Michaela took her change from the clerk at the counter and put it in her purse. Then she exited the telegraph office where Rebecca was waiting outside.

“All set?” Rebecca asked with a smile.

Michaela grasped her arm and they resumed their stroll down the city block toward the hospital.

“Sully and I thought I would only be staying out here a few weeks. Now seeing how serious Mother’s condition is, I’m afraid it’s probably going to be more like a few months.”

“I’m so glad you could come in the first place,” Rebecca remarked. “I feel better about this knowing the doctor in the family is here. And of course we‘ve missed you.”

She sighed. “Maureen and Claudette don’t seem so glad.”

“Oh, you know how they are.”

“Are they ever going to accept me for who I am? I thought by now we could at least be civil to each other. Sometimes I feel like everything out of their mouths is meant to insult me.”

“They’re just so worried about Mother, that‘s all. You know Claudette didn’t leave the hospital for three days when this first happened. I don’t think she slept a wink. She and Mother have always been quite close. She‘s been coming to the house quite often lately ever since things have been getting a little harder on Mother. And she would accompany her on all her checkups with Dr. Hanson and her eye doctor.”

“She is getting older, Rebecca. I suppose I knew that. I just never imagined something like this could happen.”

“Neither did I. I wish there were more I could do.”

“We’re doing everything she needs right now just sitting with her and letting her know we‘re here,” Michaela said as they ascended the hospital steps and entered the main lobby.

Michaela approached the front desk where a nurse was looking over a file.

“We’re here to see Elizabeth Quinn,” Michaela said. “We’re family.”

The nurse glanced up, recognizing them. “Oh, good. The doctor informed me she’s finally awake and talking.”

Michaela and Rebecca glanced at each other, letting out great sighs of relief.

“Oh, thank goodness,” Michaela murmured.

“Can we see her?” Rebecca asked.

The nurse smiled and stood. “Follow me.”

Rebecca and Michaela quickly entered the hospital recovery room. They both burst into smiles. Elizabeth’s eyes were open and her face brightened at the sight of them.

“My girls,” Elizabeth whispered hoarsely.

“Mother,” Rebecca replied tearfully as they rushed to either side of the bed and held her hands.

“How are you feeling, Mother?” Michaela asked. “Any pain?”

Elizabeth blinked a few times. “I feel numb. Completely numb. I can‘t move.”

“The doctors have been easing up on the drugs the past few days in the hopes that you would come around,” Michaela explained. “If you start feeling uncomfortable let us know right away.”

Elizabeth weakly touched her fingers to the thin rubber tube running out of her nose. “What is this? It makes my throat hurt.”

“It’s a nasogastric tube. A feeding tube,” Michaela explained. “It runs down into your stomach so they can nourish you.”

“Feeding tube? Exactly how long was I out?” she asked.

“About six days,” Rebecca explained.

“Oh, this tube is dreadfully uncomfortable,” Elizabeth said, scrunching up her nose.

Michaela stood. “Here, I’ll remove it for you.”

“Michaela, should you do that?” Rebecca asked.

“She doesn’t need it anymore. She’s awake now and can eat on her own. Mother, take a deep breath and hold it.” She skillfully pulled on the long rubber tube, removing it in one smooth motion and placing it aside. Elizabeth coughed violently and clutched her throat and Michaela quickly grabbed a glass of water and helped her drink.

Rebecca pressed her hand to her heart, overwhelmed. Michaela had such a strong stomach against all the most unpleasant aspects of medicine. She could never understand how she tolerated such things so well when most ladies would faint dead away. Rebecca averted her eyes, breathing deeply lest she faint herself.

“Oh, thank goodness,” Elizabeth finally said. “Thank you, Michaela. That‘s better.”

Michaela smoothed back her hair. “Just rest. We’re here.”

“Six days. I can‘t believe it.” Elizabeth swallowed. “The nurse told me I broke my hip.”

“Yes. Do you remember any of it?” Michaela asked curiously.

She shook her head. “No, nothing. The last thing I can recall is meeting with the board members of the charity flower show. What happened?”

“We’ll talk about this when you’re feeling stronger,” Rebecca advised. “You need your sleep.”

“No, I want to talk about this now,” Elizabeth said resolutely. “Please.”

Michaela moved to sit on the bed. “Well, no one saw it. You must have tripped on the front staircase. Martha found you. You might have only fallen a few steps, but that’s all it takes. The bones become weaker, more brittle as we age. Especially in women. Severe breaks can happen easier than you think.”

“How severe?” Elizabeth asked.

Michaela took a deep breath. “It’s called a femoral neck fracture.” She stood and guided her finger across the top of her own thigh in demonstration. “The bone broke just here below the hip joint, at the upper end of the femur. The thigh bone. Dr. Hanson operated on you right after it happened to put the bones back in place.”

“And his prognosis?” Elizabeth replied.

Michaela bit her lip, sitting back down. “I’m afraid these injuries can be critical. What he and I are most worried about right now is something called osteonecrosis. It’s a fancy term for when blood doesn’t flow properly to the hip. Without blood, eventually the bones start to die and collapse. And there‘s always a chance the bones won‘t fuse together. This type of bone doesn’t fuse easily.”

Rebecca bent her head tearfully.

“Tell me the truth, Michaela. Am I ever going to get out of bed again?” Elizabeth murmured.

Michaela squeezed her hand. “It’s too soon to tell. This just happened. We have to give this some time. We’ll know better in time.”

“But it doesn’t look hopeful. Michaela, the truth.”

Michaela swallowed hard. “It’s very serious. Yes.”

Rebecca couldn’t hold back her tears anymore. She sniffled and kissed Elizabeth’s hand. “Oh, Mother.”

“Stop that, Rebecca. I can’t stand when people blubber, especially over me,” Elizabeth muttered.

Michaela smiled softly. “We’ll try not to blubber.”

Rebecca took a deep breath. “We’ll try not to blubber,” she echoed.

“Good.” She sighed and gazed at Michaela, her expression softening. “You came all the way out here for something as silly as this. Is Sully at home with the children?”

“Yes, they’re fine,” Michaela said reassuringly. “They told me to stay as long as it takes.”

“Good,” Elizabeth murmured. “Good.”

Sully opened his hand to reveal an old penny.

“Again, Papa,” Byron said.

Sully and the children were seated at a table in the café, waiting for Grace to bring their supper. Brian and Sarah were at one end, sweetly clasping hands across the table and gazing into each other’s eyes as they talked.

Sully reached his hands behind his back, looking at the children mischievously, then held them back in front of them.

“Hmm. That one,” Katie said. “Your right.”

Sully opened his hand, showing her an empty palm.

“Oh, no. Your left then,” Katie said, resting her chin on her hands.

Sully opened his other hand. It too was empty.

“Hey! Papa, you cheated!” Katie exclaimed.

“No fair, Papa,” Byron protested.

Sully laughed and tousled the little boy’s hair as Grace approached them with a big smile and six plates expertly balanced on her outstretched arms.

“Here ya go, folks!” she said cheerfully, placing them one by one in front of them. “Roasted chicken, potatoes, beans and cornbread.”

“Looks good, Grace. Thank you,” Sully said as he picked up his knife and fork.

“You sure cook a lot better than me and Pa,” Brian said with a chuckle as he placed his napkin in his lap.

“Well, I hope so,” she replied, hands on her hips. “I’m the one with the café!”

“Miss Grace, could I have some more milk please?” Byron asked.

“Sure ya can, pumpkin,” she replied, putting her arm around him and crouching down. “After you give Miss Grace a big kiss.”

He giggled and smacked her on the cheek, then picked up his cornbread and took a big bite.

“Sully!” Horace called from across the café. He rushed into the café, holding a piece of paper.

“It must be a telegram from Mama!” Katie exclaimed, forgetting her meal and bursting into a smile. “Maybe she’s coming home!”

“Yippie! Mama!” Byron exclaimed.

Sully knew better. He could tell by the quickness in Horace’s step and his fixed brow that the telegram wasn’t good news. He took it from him. “Thanks, Horace.”

“Any time,” he replied, turning back around.

“Everything all right, Sully?” Grace asked hesitantly.

“What’s it say? What’s it say?” Katie begged.

“Yeah, read it to us, Papa,” Red Eagle said.

He folded the telegram and met their eyes. He glanced at Brian and Sarah. They too had realized the telegram was probably not going to be what they wanted to hear.

“How’s Gran’ma doin’?” Brian asked quietly.

“Your ma says your gran’ma…she’s hurt pretty bad,” Sully began carefully.

“Her hip?” Byron murmured.

“Yeah, she’s been in the hospital a long time.”

“But when’s Mama comin’ home?” Katie whispered, her eyes still glimmering with hope.

Sully swallowed hard, loathe to be honest with her. “Mama’s gonna need to stay on a little longer than we thought, sweet girl. Help out Gran’ma.”

“How much longer?” Brian asked curiously.

“She ain’t sure, Brian. Maybe another month or so.”

“A month?“ Katie couldn’t hold back her tears. They slipped down her cheeks and she let out a soft sob.

Sully held his hand out to her. “Come ’ere, Kates. It‘s all right.”

She slid off her chair and walked to him, hugging him tightly. He drew her into his lap and rubbed her back.

“I want Mama to come home,” she whimpered. “I want Mama. I miss Mama. Papa, please.”

“I miss Mama, too,” Red Eagle said sadly.

“Just tell her to come back, Papa,” Byron instructed.

“Your papa doesn’t tell your ma what to do,” he said with a soft smile. “Sides, we both think she needs to be in Boston right now. Much as I miss her, too, her own mama needs her.”

“I wanna go see her,” Katie said, clasping the lapel of Sully’s jacket. “I wanna go to Boston.”

“I wish we could, Kates,” he said, smoothing back her hair. “But Boston’s a lot farther than ya think. Trip like that just ain’t somethin’ your ma and me can come up with the money for right now.”

“I have a penny saved. It‘s under my pillow. You can have that, Papa,” Byron offered.

“You can have my pennies, too,” Red Eagle added.

Sully smiled softly. “’Fraid it costs more than a few pennies to go to Boston.”

“Well, if you’re worried about your pa’s cookin’, you just leave it to me,” Grace spoke up helpfully. “You can come to the café any time for a good home-cooked meal.”

“And we’ll always help you with your homework whenever ya need,” Sarah said. “Brian and me.”

Byron’s frown faded slightly, reassured.

“See, everything’s gonna be fine,” Sully vowed, kissing Katie‘s head. “Your pa and everybody’s gonna take good care of ya. We‘ll be fine.”

“I expect to be able to release her in about a week,” the doctor said, skimming her chart. “She’s taking solid foods now. She’s dehydrated and constipated, but that should work itself out in a few days now that she’s eating and drinking on her own.”

“She still looks so weak and helpless,” Marcus said, arms folded. “Are you certain she’s ready?”

“You can keep her here longer if you’d like. We can move her to the convalescence ward. Naturally it will be costly. It’s up to you.”

“No, I think Mother needs to be home with her family,” Michaela said. “She can recover better at home.”

“I suppose Mother would want to be at home,” Marcus admitted.

“We’ll bring her home at the end of the week, Dr. Hanson,” Michaela said. “Thank you for taking such good care of her.”

“Well, I tried,” he replied solemnly. “At least she’s alive. As for everything else I can’t say I did much good.”

“This house is not equipped for someone bedridden,” Michaela said with a sigh.

“How do you suggest we get it equipped, Michaela?” Claudette replied.

“Her bedroom should be downstairs, for one thing,” Michaela replied. “Everything she needs should be accessible.”

“We can easily have one of the rooms down here converted into a bedroom,” Maureen said. “I’ll tell Martha to organize it in the morning.“

“We’ll need to do more than that,” Michaela said. “We’ll need to have someone stay with her day and night and help her.”

“Martha will help her of course,” Claudette remarked.

Michaela shook her head. “I just don’t think Martha can provide what Mother needs right now. I can assist Mother for the time being, but eventually I‘ll have to go back to Colorado. What will Mother do then?”

“Martha’s been with us since before I was born, Michaela,” Rebecca protested. “I daresay she knows Mother better than any of us.”

“I adore Martha, I always have,” Michaela said. “Certainly she can still cook for Mother and look after the house and perhaps help her with her medications. But she’s getting older herself. Bedridden patients need to be turned periodically so they don’t develop sores. And Mother needs someone younger and stronger who can also help her with things like bathing and using the bed pan.”

“There’s no need to be so graphic, Michaela,” Claudette scolded.

“I’m not trying to be graphic, I’m trying to tell you the truth,” Michaela replied. “I’ve seen patients die from a bedsore that became infected. Unless Martha can lift Mother up and help turn her, she‘s not the right person to look after her.”

“Fine, we’ll simply hire a nurse,” Maureen spoke up. “This isn’t a complicated problem. Lots of people employ private nurses in their old age.”

“Mother’s not going to like a stranger in her home,” Claudette warned.

“She’s just going to have to get used to it,” Rebecca replied. “Michaela says Martha can’t help her. She’s the doctor here. I suppose we have to trust her.”

“I’ll post an advertisement in the Globe tomorrow morning,” Michaela said resolutely. “We’ll find someone good for Mother.”

Michaela and Rebecca sat at Josef’s mahogany desk in the study amid stacks of references. They had been interviewing potential nurses all day without much success. They all seemed like nice women, but Michaela wasn’t satisfied any of them had enough familiarity with what would be required of them. Looking after an elderly patient was different than looking after someone younger, and Elizabeth Quinn was a particularly challenging elderly patient. Michaela wanted someone who knew exactly what they were getting into.

Just when Michaela and Rebecca were about to give up, a young Russian immigrant named Zoya Ivanova showed up for an interview. She was tall and fair and seemed strong, and she was polite and cheerful. And her experience was impressive. Michaela and Rebecca liked her immediately.

“Myself and another nurse, we look after dear, sweet Mr. Johnson for eight years, the last two of which he was bedridden,” Zoya explained, seated on the edge of the chair in her nurse’s uniform with her hands folded in her lap. “He pass on just two weeks ago. Such a good man. I must tell you I never have any proper nurse schooling, but I learn just about everything you need to know about caring for people like him from the nurse I work with.”

“What do you know about bed sores?” Michaela asked. “Do you know how to prevent them?”

“Oh, yes, miss, of course. Every night we get up at eleven o’clock, two o’clock and five o’clock on nose to help turn him.”

Michaela glanced at Rebecca and they shared a smile.

“Well, Zoya, your experience is very impressive,” Michaela remarked. “We’d like to hire you to begin tomorrow if that’s what you would like, too. I‘ll have Martha prepare a room for you in the servant’s quarters.”

Zoya smiled, pleased. “Oh, yes. Thank you, miss. I’m most eager to start.”

Michaela and Rebecca opened the front door as the white hospital ambulance pulled up. Marcus appeared behind the women and hurried down the porch stairs to assist the ambulance workers.

A young, strong man dressed in a white coat opened the door of the ambulance and jumped out. He grabbed one end of Elizabeth’s stretcher and slowly slid it out of the ambulance as another young man held the stretcher from the front.

Elizabeth was covered tightly with a blanket and closing her eyes tiredly. Michaela walked down the stairs and grasped her hand.

“Welcome home, Mother.”

Elizabeth managed a nod. “Finally,” she muttered.

“Careful. Take it slow,” Michaela instructed the young men as they made their way up the porch stairs.

“Yes, ma’am, not to worry,” one of them said as Harrison pushed open the front door wide to make room.

“To the back room,” Marcus directed. “Past the parlor.”

Claudette, Maureen, and Martha were waiting eagerly in Elizabeth’s new room. The room was normally another parlor they rarely used, but Martha and Fiona had removed most of the furniture, the sculptures and the globe to convert it into a rather homey bedroom. Michaela had purchased a bed from the hospital, as well as several basins, trays and a bedpan. Martha laid out linens and towels on the dresser and filled the dresser drawers with Elizabeth’s nightgowns and stockings. Harrison had built a blazing fire in the large fireplace so that it would be cozy and warm when she arrived, and Martha had filled the room with flowers.

The two ambulance workers placed the stretcher on Elizabeth’s bed. Then one of them slid his arms beneath her back and the other slid his hands under her legs.

“Oh, please be gentle with her,” Claudette said worriedly.

“One, two, three,” the taller man said.

Skillfully, they lifted her off the stretcher and onto the soft mattress.

One of them grabbed the empty stretcher, folding it up, and the other covered her up warmly.

“There we are, Mrs. Quinn. Home sweet home,” one of them said.

Michaela stepped forward and touched their arms.

“Thank you. You did a wonderful job.”

“If you don’t mind just signing some paperwork out front to release her, Miss Quinn,” one of the men replied with a kind smile.

“Certainly,” Michaela replied as she followed them out of the room.

“What can we get you, Mother?” Rebecca asked.

“Nothing,” she muttered.

“Do you like your new room, Mother?” Claudette asked. “I worked hard putting it together for you.”

Martha suppressed a smile. The only thing Claudette had done was order her about; she hadn’t lifted a finger when it came to assembling the new room.

“It’s fine,” Elizabeth said disinterestedly.

“She’s tired,” Maureen remarked. “We should let her get some sleep.”

“Yes, you need to rest before your nurse arrives,” Rebecca remarked.

“She’s starting today?” Elizabeth replied, perking up a little.

“Yes, this afternoon. That’s all right with you, isn’t it, Mother?” Claudette replied.

“Now you ask me if it’s all right? I never had a say before,” she retorted.

Rebecca patted her shoulder. “We’ll leave you to rest. Just ring if you need anything.”

Martha and the three sisters exited the room and closed the door. Claudette sat on the sofa in the front parlor dejectedly.

“Oh, she looks terrible,” Claudette remarked. “So tired, so weak. We pulled her out of the hospital far too soon. This is all Michaela‘s fault.”

Michaela and Marcus entered the room after thanking the ambulance workers again and seeing them off.

“Well, does she like the room? How‘s she doing?” Michaela asked.

“Horrible,” Claudette replied without even glancing up.

“She’s sleeping. She’s exhausted,” Rebecca explained.

“Oh, that’s understandable,” Michaela replied.

“Should I ask Martha to prepare lunch? It’s getting late,” Marcus said as he approached Rebecca.

“I can’t eat. I’m too miserable,” Maureen said, joining Claudette on the sofa.

“Moping around won’t help Mother,” Michaela said. “It’s important for us to be positive for her sake.”

“Oh, Michaela. What’s there to be positive about?” Maureen muttered.

Marcus and Rebecca shared a glance and he put his hand lightly on her back.

“This nurse idea of yours better work,” Claudette said resolutely. “I’d feel much better if she were still in the hospital with professionals looking after her.”

“No, she needs to be home with us,” Michaela replied firmly. “And it’s going to work. I promise.”

“I’m twenty-six, ma‘am,” Zoya said cheerfully, hands folded in front of her as she stood beside Elizabeth‘s bed next to Michaela. She was wearing a starched, spotless gray nursing uniform and white cap. “Almost twenty-seven.”

“My daughter says you never had any proper training in the medical field.”

Zoya bit her lip timidly. “Well, no, ma‘am. But I was taught by one of the finest nurses in Boston. I work by her side for eight years.”

“Michaela, I can barely understand her accent,” Elizabeth griped.

“Her English is fine, Mother,” Michaela said.

“What kind of name is Zoya?” Elizabeth asked.

Zoya shrugged. “I don’t know. It is name my parents give me.”

“It’s a ridiculous name,” Elizabeth retorted. “I don’t know what they were thinking.”

“Mother, stop it,” Michaela said impatiently.

Elizabeth turned her head and gazed out the window solemnly. “Why can’t you just help me, Michaela? I don’t need a nurse.”

Michaela gently touched Zoya’s shoulder. “Could you give us a few minutes?”

“Yes, miss,” she said obediently, quickly scurrying out of the room.

Elizabeth looked back at Michaela angrily. “I don’t want some destitute immigrant wandering my house day and night. One of these days she’ll make off with the silver and leave me here to waste away, mark my words.”

“She’s here to work for you, Mother. She’s not going to steal the silver.”

“I just don’t trust anyone taking care of me but you.”

“Mother, you know I’ll stay as long as I can, but it won’t be forever. We’ve got to start figuring out what you’re going to do once I leave.” She sighed, sitting on the bed. “And besides, I must admit it would be nice to have someone who could get up during the night to help you so I can sleep.”

“Just say it. I’m a burden,” Elizabeth rejoined.

“Mother, you know that’s not what I meant. What I’m saying is I could take better care of you if I had someone like Zoya helping me. And then once you two are comfortable with each other I‘ll be able to return to Colorado confident you‘re in good hands.”

Elizabeth looked at her plaintively. “You won’t leave just yet, will you, Michaela?” she whispered.

Michaela squeezed her hand. She had never seen her mother so vulnerable, and it was a little frightening. “No, I’ll stay. I’m staying,” she said reassuringly.

“Well, I don’t like her,” she said firmly. “But if you insist, I suppose I have no choice.”

“Just give her a chance, Mother,” Michaela replied. “You might be surprised.”

Zoya looked at the thermometer in the afternoon sunlight, then grabbed Elizabeth’s medical chart and opened it.

Elizabeth scowled at her. “I hope you’re writing that down because I’m not going to let you take my temperature again. Not for awhile anyway.”

“It didn’t hurt, did it, Mrs. Quinn?” she asked, picking up a pencil and scratching some notes on her chart. “I put lots of olive oil on thermometer. That always helped when we took Mr. Johnson‘s temperature. This is best way to get the most accurate temperature. I‘m sorry.”

“I don‘t want to talk about it,” she retorted.

“You have a small fever. You should take some quinine,” she said, finding the bottle of quinine on the tray of medicines and spooning some powder into a glass.

“More medicine? It‘s a wonder I’ve still got my wits about me what with everything you‘re shoving down my throat.”

Zoya walked to her bedside and handed her the glass and Elizabeth downed the medicine grudgingly.

“Well, it is time I read to you?” the nurse asked.

“Not necessary. I can read to myself.”

“You must rest your eyes, Mrs. Quinn,” Zoya said, picking up a book on the nightstand and opening it to a marked page. “Miss Michaela says this is the book you were reading before your accident.” Her cheerful expression faded as she stared at the complicated words.

Elizabeth watched her critically. “Well, go on. If you’re going to read, read.”

Zoya tapped her finger to each word as she read it. "‘But you are fond of riding, Miss Brooke,’ Sir James…pres…presently took an oppor-tunity of saying. "I should have thought you…w-would enter a little into the pleasures of hunting. I wish you would let me send over a ches….ches-nut h-horse-”

“Oh, God help me. Stop. Just stop,” Elizabeth said, shaking her head in exasperation.

Zoya slowly lowered the book. “What’s wrong, Mrs. Quinn?”

“If you’re going to butcher George Eliot please don’t read it at all. This is torture.”

“I am sorry. I don’t mean to butcher him.”

“George Eliot is a woman,” Elizabeth said impatiently. “That’s just her pen name. My goodness, you really don’t know a thing do you?”

Zoya raised her eyebrows. “What is pen name?”

“Never mind. Just, go make yourself useful. Go do my laundry and leave me to rest.”

She closed the book. “My reading, it is not very good,” she said sheepishly. “In my country I only go to school until I was eleven.”

“Eleven? What kind of school was this? I have a six-year-old grandson who can read better than you. No, if I want to read I‘ll do it myself.”

“Miss Michaela said I must sit with you and read to you from newspaper and your books and stimulate you.”

“You, young lady, are the least stimulating person I’ve ever met. In fact you’re a downright bore. Now leave me to rest.” She crossed her arms stubbornly and closed her eyes, turning her head to the side.

Michaela entered the kitchen through the swinging door. She found Zoya at the table washing several cloths and hand towels, scrubbing them hard against the washboard and plunging them into the sudsy water of the washtub. Her expression was unreadable.

“Well? How is it going?” Michaela asked timidly.

Zoya glanced up hesitantly. “She’s….just like you said.”

“…Oh.”

“Don’t worry, miss. I can handle her.”

“Why don’t you take a rest for a few hours? Perhaps take a walk down to the Common. I’ll sit with her,” Michaela suggested.

Zoya smiled and removed her hands from the washbasin, drying them on her apron. “Yes, miss. I’d like that.”

Michaela left the kitchen and entered her father’s study, selecting a thick novel off the desk she had pulled out the day before. Then she headed to Elizabeth’s room across the front parlor. She found Elizabeth flat on her back, staring out the window dejectedly.

“How is it going with your nurse, Mother?” Michaela asked.

“If I had any shred of dignity left I just lost it,” Elizabeth retorted.

“What do you mean?”

“She took my temperature. And not orally, mind you.”

“She’s supposed to do that. It’s part of her job description.” She found Elizabeth’s chart on the dresser and opened it, glancing at Zoya’s notes. “And I’m glad she did. It says here you’re running a slight fever of ninety-nine. Good, she gave you some quinine.” She closed the chart and put it back.

“Not to mention this morning she made me sit on the bedpan half an hour while she watched. No wonder I couldn‘t perform with her breathing down my neck.”

“She’s supposed to do that, too.” Michaela sat on the bed, patting her arm. “Mother, I don’t want you to lose your dignity. No one does. But you have to understand we’re trying to help you. All these things that Zoya and I are doing for you are designed to help you be as healthy as possible given what‘s happened.” She opened the book. “I found this in Father’s office. Henry David Thoreau’s Walden. Father has one of the first copies ever published. Remember how he would read it to us every night after supper?”

Elizabeth glanced at her impatiently. “I never paid attention. I thought it was a dreadfully dull book. Your father and I had very different tastes.”

“No it’s not. It‘s one of the finest pieces of prose ever put down on paper.”

“Michaela, I don’t really feel like debating what constitutes great literature right now. I’ve been talking to Martha and she says it wouldn’t be any trouble at all. In fact she’s all for it.”

“All for what?”

“We’ll get rid of that immigrant and you can be my nurse. You can move in here and I‘ll pay you a salary just like I pay her. Only I‘d pay you much more of course because you‘re a real doctor and you‘re actually competent. And, well, you‘re my daughter.”

“In case you forgot my husband and children are still in Colorado.”

“Bring them here. You and Sully can have your old room, the boys can have Claudette‘s room and Katie can have Maureen‘s room. I have plenty of bedrooms just sitting up there gathering dust. I‘ll enroll the children in that wonderful private school outside the city that sends half their students to Harvard. Harrison can drive them there every morning.”

“Uproot the children like that? No. And what about my medical practice? I‘ve spent ten years building it from the ground up.”

“Well, you don’t have much to show for it, do you?”

“Just because you’re angry at me doesn’t mean you have to be cruel,” Michaela murmured, swallowing hard. “I’ve worked very hard establishing myself as a doctor my patients can trust, and I finally feel like they’ve overcome any reservations they had about me being a woman. Now you want me to just throw that all away?”

“You could continue being a doctor if you lived in Boston. You would just be my doctor.”

Michaela closed the book. “Mother, please don’t start this again. You know how I feel about Colorado Springs.”

“I thought Colorado Springs was in shambles right now after all that trouble with the stock market. From what I can tell you’re barely scraping by. And now that you‘ve adopted Red Eagle he‘s just another one to feed and clothe and provide for.”

She swallowed, hesitating. “We manage.”

She raised her eyebrows skeptically. “With Sully not even working and all your patients paying you in eggs and preserves?”

“Sully works. He helps out Robert E. from time to time and finds other odd jobs around town. We just have to be very careful with money right now until he can find something more permanent.”

“With Sully’s experience as a carpenter he could find work here in a heartbeat what with all the new buildings going up every day. You two could finally provide for those children like parents should. They’ll have everything they need.”

“The children have everything they need in Colorado,” she replied resolutely. “No, Mother. Stop this. You’re making me feel guilty when I have no reason to be.”

“What was I thinking? It was just a silly dream.” Elizabeth folded her hands across her stomach “I just don’t think I can get better without you.”

“Of course you can. Mother, you’re going to be fine.” She opened the book again. “Let me read to you. You’ll feel better.”

Elizabeth sighed and looked away apathetically.

“’When I wrote the following pages, or rather the bulk of them,” Michaela began, “I lived alone, in the woods, a mile from any neighbor, in a house which I had built myself, on the shore of Walden Pond.’”

She paused and glanced up from the book, gazing at Elizabeth solemnly. She had never seen her mother looking so miserable.

The nurse stood beside the bed and handed Elizabeth the pill and the glass of water.

Elizabeth put the large pill in her mouth and swallowed it down with a gulp of water. “I hate these ghastly things. They’re huge. Better suited for a horse than a poor old woman.”

“I cut them in half for you?”

“No, no, don’t trouble yourself,” Elizabeth muttered.

Zoya pulled back the covers.

“What are you doing?!” Elizabeth cried.

“You must have a bath now.” She crossed the room and filled a small basin with water from the teakettle.

“I don’t want a bath now,” Elizabeth retorted, grabbing the covers.

“You must, Mrs. Quinn. Miss Michaela said I must give bath every morning. It‘s very important in preventing bedsores.”

“You don’t work for her. You work for me.”

“She said you would say that,” Zoya replied, carrying the basin to the bed.

“Well, you’re rather impertinent, aren’t you? It’s true that you work for me. Your pay comes from my husband’s trust, may he rest in peace. And I‘m paying you more than you’re worth as it is.”

“Yes, Mrs. Quinn,” Zoya said, reaching forward and unbuttoning Elizabeth’s robe and nightgown.

Elizabeth turned her head to the side and laid there in sheer humiliation while Zoya worked up a lather with a sponge and sponged down Elizabeth’s chest, stomach and arms.

Elizabeth sniffed the air. “What kind of soap is that? It smells horrible.”

“I don’t know. It’s soap.”

“Why on earth would you use something so repulsive? Go fetch my lavender soap I‘ve always used. It’s in my washroom upstairs. Off the master bedroom.”

“Miss Michaela said I was for to use this soap. It’s what she for to use at her hospital out West.”

“I don’t care what Miss Michaela said. I’m your employer. You answer to me!”

Zoya bit her lip and continued to sponge her down.

“How dare you defy me,” Elizabeth said angrily. “Go, get out! I‘m letting you go! Don’t just stand there. You’re fired!”

Zoya slowly put the sponge back in the basin and walked out of the room.

Zoya found Michaela in the study composing a letter home.

“Excuse me, miss,” she said tentatively, rapping on the open door with her knuckles.

Michaela looked up. “Is something wrong, Zoya?”

“Mrs. Quinn fired me, miss,” she said quietly. “I’ll just gather my things. It was very nice to meet you.”

“Oh, no,” Michaela said with a sigh. “Don’t go anywhere, Zoya. You’re not fired.”

“But Mrs. Quinn said-”

She rose. “I told you Mother would be difficult. You just have to do your job and try not to let her get to you.”

“Yes, miss.”

“Wait here,” Michaela said. She entered Elizabeth’s room. “What happened?”

Elizabeth eyed her impatiently. “What do you mean what happened? I let her go.”

“Why?”

“She was using the wrong soap,” Elizabeth said.

“You fired her over soap, Mother?”

“No I did not fire her over soap,” she retorted. “I fired her because she can’t do anything right.”

“She’s been here two days,” Michaela said. “What could she have possibly done in two days that’s so terrible?”

She let out a large sigh. “Michaela, I told you I didn’t want a nurse. Especially not her. I can’t stand her. She has an accent that’s like nails on a blackboard, she’s rude and she doesn’t listen to me. I’m her employer! And I hate that a complete stranger is bathing me and helping me with life’s daily necessities. It‘s mortifying.”

“Mother, I told her she answers to me. I told her I was her employer.”

“Oh, perfect. Now she doesn’t know who to believe. No wonder.”

“You’re going to give her a chance, Mother,” Michaela said firmly. “I’m sending her back in here, you’re going to let her do her job and you might even at least try to be kind to her.”

“Just leave me,” Elizabeth said, shaking her head. “Leave me to die.”

“Stop talking like that,” Michaela scolded. She walked to the bed and grasped her hand. “Mother, I know this is difficult. I know you’ve never had to rely on anyone before and this is a big change for you. But you can do this. You‘ll get used to this if you only tried. Why, you might even find you like Zoya. I think she‘s a lovely young girl.”

“I just want you to help me, that’s all,” Elizabeth whispered.

Michaela wanted to tell her she would stay and take care of her, she wanted to reassure her she would always be there for her, but she knew the reality was that could never be. “I’m sorry, Mother, but my home is in Colorado Springs. As it is I‘ve never been apart from the children this long. I can’t stay here. So like it or not you’re going to have to figure out how to do this without me.”

Michaela sat at the kitchen table beside Martha, proudly showing her a few photographs of the children. Her mother and sisters had never really approved of her close relationship with the chambermaid, and certainly had never liked her hanging around the kitchen like she were a servant herself, but Michaela loved Martha too much to care.

“And this is Red Eagle,” Michaela said, handing her a sepia photograph of the little boy.

“A handsome lad he is! Oh, and the little dear’s lost his front teeth.”

She smiled. “Yes. Byron’s so jealous. He can’t wait to lose his.”

“It seems like yesterday you were running to me with a tooth you just lost.”

“I remember when I lost my front teeth you made me lots of soft foods to eat when everyone else was getting beef and artichokes and apples. You took such good care of me.”

Martha looked at the next photograph of Katie. “Oh, it’s like seeing you as a child! Oh, what a precious thing.”

“I so wish you could meet them, Martha,” Michaela said whimsically.

“I will,” she replied, swallowing. “Someday.”

Michaela nodded, working hard to hold back tears. “They’re probably getting out of school right about now. I hope Sully’s making them do their homework. They can talk him out of anything.”

Martha patted her arm sympathetically and handed her back the photographs. “I have to check on the roast.”

Zoya pushed opened the kitchen door, carrying a tray of food. Michaela stood, suddenly noticing the plate was broken in three pieces.

“What happened?” Michaela asked with surprise.

Zoya put the tray on the table with a sigh. “Please don’t ask. Martha, if you don’t mind to make Mrs. Quinn another plate of food.”

“Not at all, Zoya,” Martha replied, scurrying to the cupboard nearby.

“Zoya, if you need help I-” Michaela began.

“Thank you, miss, but it’s like you said, you must leave soon. Mrs. Quinn must have to learn to live with me.”

“Michaela! Michaela!” Claudette called urgently. She stormed into their father’s office where Michaela was sitting at the desk studying some medical textbooks about hip fractures.

“Michaela, do you know what Mother just did?” Claudette said, face flushed.

“What now?” Michaela replied, sitting back in her chair with exasperation.

“She actually threw the bed pan at Zoya! I witnessed the entire thing.”

Michaela shook her head. “Oh, no. I hope she missed.”

“Well, barely.” Claudette let out a deep sigh. “Why the girl hasn’t quit by now is beyond me.”

“Zoya’s had a lot of experience with the elderly. I don’t think this really fazes her.”

“Well, obviously this is not working out between them. Mother hates her. She told me so. If that nurse won‘t quit, I suppose we‘ll just have to let her go. I‘ll tell her tonight.”

“No, we’re not going to do that,” Michaela immediately replied.

“Michaela, there must be someone better suited for her! I‘ll help you interview candidates. We‘ll find someone else straight away.”

“So Mother can just drive them to quit, too?” Michaela replied, closing her book. “Claudette, we can’t give in to her. I know exactly what she‘s doing. She‘s trying to force me to stay on here and care for her myself. Well, the reality is I have a husband and children back in Colorado that I need to get home to. I can‘t be her nurse and there‘s nothing she can do to change my mind.”

“Go home to your precious Sully. You never did care about us anyway.”

Michaela drew in her breath, taken aback. “How could you say that? Of course I care.”

Michaela gazed up at her, suddenly remembering all the disagreements they had gotten into as children. Rebecca was fifteen when Michaela was born and treated her like she was her own baby, favoring her above any of the other sisters, spoiling her and showering her with affection right up until she married Marcus and moved to another part of town. As for Maureen, she had been somewhat apathetic to her much younger sister most of their growing up years and she too had soon married and moved out. But when Michaela wasn’t going at it with Marjorie, it was Claudette she would find herself in squabbles with. She remembered bickering with her hot-tempered, red-headed older sister over everything, from who got to help out the cook in the kitchen, to what games they would play after school, to who got to greet their father first when he came home from work. Adulthood had done little to lesson the rivalry between them.

“Claudette, I’m trying to help our mother learn to live with what’s happened to her. She’s got to learn to live with the fact that she needs someone to help her right now. She may even need someone the rest of her life.”

“Well, you’re doing a terrible job,” Claudette retorted. “I’ve never seen Mother so unhappy. This is all your fault.” She spun around in a huff and exited the office. “Harrison! My wrap!” she shouted.

Michaela quickly got up and followed her out. “Claudette, wait!” she called.

Claudette grabbed her wrap from the butler and spun around. “You always were a know-it-all. You think you know exactly what to do about all this just because you‘re a doctor. Well, I know our mother a lot better than you ever will living two thousand miles away from us. I’ve lived two blocks down from her my entire adult life. We would have supper together every Sunday, and I would always stop by at least twice during the week and check in on her. I know what Mother needs! Not you!” She opened the door and slammed it behind her.

Harrison put his hands behind his back. “Are you all right, Miss Michaela?” he asked awkwardly.

Michaela glanced at him, sighing. “I’m fine.”

“Will you be retiring soon? Would you like me to lay a fire for you in your room?”

“In a few hours. Thank you, Harrison.”

“You need your rest too, Miss Michaela,” he said kindly. “Don’t stay up too late.”

She smiled softly. “I won’t.”

Michaela grasped Elizabeth’s knee and foot and flexed her leg up and down as if she were riding a velocipede. She had rolled up her sleeves and positioned Elizabeth on her side, then set to work stimulated muscles that had been dormant for too long. Elizabeth was grimacing at how exhausting it was and perspiring as if she had been running for miles, but she trusted that her daugheter wouldn’t make her endure the exercises if she didn’t think it would help.

“We’ll have to take this one step at a time,” Michaela said, slightly out of breath as she continued to work Elizabeth’s leg back and forth. “Eventually you’ll be able to sit up without support, and then we can even work on standing.”

Elizabeth let out a small moan as Michaela flexed her leg even further.

“I’m sorry, Mother. You’re doing well. Just bear with me.”

“Mother, Father Dougherty is here to see you,” Rebecca called, entering the room with a smile.

“Now’s not a good time, Rebecca,” Michaela replied just as Elizabeth let out another tired groan.

Rebecca’s face fell. “What’s the matter? What are you doing to her?” She rushed to Elizabeth’s side, touching her brow. “Michaela, that’s painful! Don‘t do that!”

Michaela didn’t falter. “I know, but it’s good pain.”

Rebecca met her eyes, flabbergasted. “Good pain! That’s nonsense. There’s no such thing.”

“Physical therapy is always difficult, especially at first. But if she doesn’t exercise, her muscles are going to disintegrate very quickly. She won’t be able to stand and walk again even if her hip does heal properly.”

“Stop staring at me, Rebecca,” Elizabeth scolded. “Michaela insists it will help. Now leave us.”

“Oh, Michaela, please don’t injure her more,” Rebecca pleaded. “You haven’t seen many hip fractures, have you? What if you‘re making it worse?” She bit her lip. “Perhaps we should consult Dr. Hanson about all this.”

Michaela slowly lowered Elizabeth’s leg to the bed and covered Elizabeth with a sheet. “That’s enough for today. You did very well, Mother.”

“Thank goodness it‘s over,” Elizabeth breathed as Michaela poured her a glass of water. She sipped at it eagerly.

“I really do think you should discuss this with Dr. Hanson before embarking on something like this,” Rebecca said insistently.

Michaela couldn’t remember Rebecca ever questioning her abilities as a physician. Although Rebecca had often wondered if others would accept a woman doctor, she herself had always encouraged Michaela’s unusual interest in science growing up, and had complete faith that her bright little sister would get through medical school without any trouble and eventually become as fine a physician as their father. Michaela was hurt that her once so supportive sister was suddenly doubting her.

“Talk to him if it makes you feel better,” Michaela whispered, swallowing hard. She grabbed the pitcher. “Let me get you some more water, Mother.”

Michaela sat on the front steps and opened the envelope from Brian with a letter opener. She was pleased to find four pieces of paper containing a lengthy letter written on front and back. As much as she knew Sully missed her, he had never been very interested in sending her more than a short telegram simply telling her things were fine and that they loved her and couldn‘t wait for her to come home. It was Brian she had to depend on for all the details she craved. And details he gave her, his talent for the written word bringing to life everything that was happening at home almost as if she were there to share it.

She smiled as he went on for some time about Sarah and the new batch of chicks she was raising. Sarah really was a very nice girl, and she and Brian made a sweet couple. Michaela had never really discouraged him from pursuing a courtship with her, even though as his mother she was reluctant to see him become so serious with a girl at his age.

She looked up as a little boy about Byron’s age sped by on a velocipede similar to the one she had gotten for Sully years ago that the children often liked to use. He giggled as he pedaled faster and she smiled and went back to reading her letter.

Suddenly her expression sobered and her eyes filled with tears.

Claudette opened the front door. “Michaela, wouldn’t you like to read that in the parlor?”

“I’m all right. I’d like some fresh air. I’m not used to staying inside all the time.”

“Yes I can see that. You’re even darker than the last time I saw you. You ought to be careful or one might start mistaking you for a savage yourself.”

“I‘ve been in my garden a lot lately,” she said defensively. “We haven’t had a lot of rain and we’ve had to water it almost daily.”

Claudette moved to sit beside her and suddenly noticed her teary eyes. “What’s the matter? Is everything all right at home?”

Michaela glanced at the letter again, dabbing at her nose. “Byron won the spelling bee in his age group.”

“Oh, is that all? Well done.”

“You don’t understand. He’s never won a spelling bee. He’s never even come close. He doesn’t really care much for school. And I missed it.”

“You should hire him a tutor is what you should do. That‘s what I did for William when he was his age and look at the result.”

She turned over the page. “Claudette, we couldn’t possibly afford a tutor. Besides, no one in Colorado Springs does that sort of thing.”

“You’re going to have a rather difficult time getting him accepted into any of the ivy leagues if you don’t start giving him proper instruction today. At this rate you‘re going to be receiving a stack of rejection letters when the time comes. Michaela, don‘t you want him to continue the Quinn tradition and go to Harvard? Follow in our father’s footsteps?”

“I want him to be happy. Perhaps he’s not meant to go to the ivy leagues. School is difficult for him.”

She raised her eyebrows. “Oh, I see. He must get that from Sully’s side of the family. What exactly is Sully’s educational background? Is he even literate?”

“Claudette, of course he is. He’s not ignorant.”

“He certainly acts like he is,” she muttered.

Before she could argue with her they heard a child scream and then burst into tears. Michaela put the letter on the steps and stood, looking in the direction of the noise. She spotted the little boy who had been riding the velocipede on the ground, tangled up in the frame.

Michaela quickly gathered her skirts and rushed to his side, kneeling beside him.

“What’s the matter? Did you fall?” she asked.

He clutched his knee and sobbed. “I lost my balance,” he said tearfully.

“I’m a doctor. Could I take a look?” Michaela asked gently as Claudette slowly joined her.

The little boy sniffled and slowly removed his hands from his knee, revealing his torn stocking and a nasty scrape.

“Oh, no wonder. I’d be crying, too,“ Michaela said, removing her handkerchief from her sleeve and pressing it to the scrape.

“Is he all right, Michaela?” Claudette asked. “Anything broken?”

“Just a little scrape. He’ll be back on the velocipede in no time,” Michaela replied with a soft smile.

“It hurts,” the little boy whimpered.

“It just so happens I know exactly how to make it better. Hold as still as you can and close your eyes,” Michaela said.

The little boy hesitated a moment and then complied, squeezing his eyes up tight.

Michaela blew gently on the scrape a few times.

He opened his eyes and his tears ceased. “Hey, that does feel better,” he whispered. “It doesn’t hurt anymore.”

Michaela helped him to his feet and righted his velocipede.

“Go home to your mama and have her wash that for you and wrap it up. No more velocipedes until at least tomorrow.”

He swiped away his tears and grabbed the handle bars of the velocipede. “Yes, ma’am. Thank you.”

Michaela smiled and waved as he limped back to his house.

“Well, those velocipedes are the most dangerous things I’ve ever seen,” Claudette remarked. “We never had toys like that when we were his age. It‘s a wonder he wasn‘t killed.”

Michaela returned to their porch and picked up the letter, head lowered solemnly.

“Now what’s the matter?” Claudette demanded.

Michaela shrugged. “I miss the children, that’s all. I‘ve never been apart from them like this.”

“Well, if you were just living in Boston in the first place you wouldn’t have this problem, would you?” Claudette replied, ascending the stairs and opening the door. “Please come inside, Michaela. Lord knows you don’t need any more sun.”

Too tired to protest, Michaela folded the letter and followed her inside.

Michaela carried a tray with dinner Martha had prepared into Elizabeth’s room.

“I hope you‘re hungry, Mother,” Michaela said, placing the tray on the night table. “Martha made you vegetable soup and corn muffins.”

“Where’s that Russian vagabond who calls herself a nurse?”

“Her name is Zoya and I gave her the evening off. I’ll assist you tonight.”

“Good. I just hope we‘re not paying her when she‘s not even doing anything.”

“As a matter of fact we are. It wasn’t her choice to end early.”

“All your father’s hard-earned money is going to be squandered away before we know it with that girl working all the time.”

“I’ve seen the books. Father left you enough to cover anything you could possibly want or need. I assure you Zoya‘s salary is hardly making a dent.”

“Don’t go through my personal records. That’s none of your business,” Elizabeth retorted.

“Someone has to,” Michaela replied intrepidly, dishing up a spoonful of the soup.

“I can feed myself,” Elizabeth said, taking the bowl and spoon from her.

“Yes you can. You’re doing a lot better lately. You’re getting stronger every day.”

“I’m still a cripple,” Elizabeth said despondently. “I can’t even use the bedpan without someone staring at me.”

Michaela took a deep breath, dreading what she had to tell her. “Mother, Zoya’s been here three weeks. I know you aren’t fond of her but I think she’s done an excellent job. She’s very capable and I trust her completely.”

“Good for you. I don’t trust her at all,” Elizabeth said.

“Just the same I feel comfortable going home knowing you’re in good hands.”

“Going home?”

“Mother, I’ve never been apart from my children this long. I can’t do it anymore. Not to mention how much I miss Sully. Martha‘s already packed my bags. I‘ll be leaving in the morning.”

“Tell her to unpack them. You can just write them another telegram. Make it as long as you like. I’ll pay for it.” She took another spoonful of soup.

She shook her head. “Telegrams aren’t enough anymore. I need to be with them. Sully wanted me to visit you, he said so himself. But none of us thought I would be here this long. All this time he’s been looking after the children all by himself. He wants me to come home now and so do I.”

“Sully never could keep his hands off you. I suppose he’s tired of being celibate. Well, he‘s just going to have to suffer because you‘re staying here.”

Michaela reddened, sighing. “Mother, must you embarrass me?”

“Go. Go back home,” Elizabeth said. “Leave me.”

“I’m sorry you see it that way,” Michaela said. She walked to the door and opened it, shutting it behind her.

“Michaela!” Elizabeth suddenly called through the door. “Michaela, Michaela, come back! Michaela, please! Michaela!”

Michaela very reluctantly opened the door, standing in the doorway. “What is it?”

“Oh, thank goodness.“ Elizabeth inhaled sharply. “Go tell Martha to open the safe and take out fifty dollars. Then go down to the bank and wire Sully the money.”

“What? What are you talking about?”

“I’m sending for them,” Elizabeth said resolutely. “I’m sending for Sully and the children. Red Eagle, too. Tell Sully to bring them out here for a visit.”

“Don’t be ridiculous. I’m not going to drag them all the way out here.”

“Why not? The children have never been to Boston. You’ve always said you wanted them to see it. Why, you even once said you might be able to come visit this Christmas.”

Michaela walked to the bed. “Mother, it’s the middle of the school year. We can’t just pull them out and bring them out here at the drop of a hat.”

“I’ll hire a governess for them with all that money you say I have if you really think they’re going to miss anything important. I daresay a governess would do a lot better job helping them learn their lessons than that teacher of theirs anyway.”

“This is absurd, Mother.”

“Michaela, you said you have to leave because you miss your family. Well, I’m moving mountains to bring your family here. That way you could stay on at least a few more weeks. Isn’t that a fair compromise?”

Michaela slowly sat on the bed. “We did say we’re going to try to visit this Christmas, didn’t we?” she admitted.

“So think of it as an early Christmas present.“

Michaela let out a deep sigh. “All right. I’ll ask him. But no guarantees Sully’s going to agree to all this.”

“He’ll agree to it. Martha! Martha!” Elizabeth called urgently.

Moments later Martha scurried into the room. “Yes, mum? Anything the matter?”

“Open the safe and take out fifty dollars for some train tickets. Then unpack Michaela’s bags. And tomorrow start making up the guest bedrooms upstairs. We’ll need every one. My grandchildren are coming to visit.”

Martha beamed. “Oh, yes, mum! Right away!”

Sully entered the Gazette, lingering in the doorway. Brian was painstakingly setting the type for the following week’s edition of the Gazette. He was wearing an ink-stained heavy apron and a few smears of ink marked his face.

“Hey, Pa,” he said cheerfully.

“Hey. Where’s Miss Dorothy?”

“She went to run some errands. Has me doin’ all the dirty work while she’s gone,” he said with a smile.

“Telegram came from your ma.”

Brian placed a letter A in place. “Oh yeah? She know when she’s comin’ home? How‘s Gran‘ma doin‘?”

“Guess she’s had a hard time of it. She has to stay in bed, don’t like the nurse they hired.”

Brian sighed. “That’s too bad.”

“Your ma says your gran’ma wants her to stay on, take care of her herself.”

Brian looked up, taken aback. “But Ma’s been gone a month. How long is she talkin’ about?”

Sully shrugged. “I don’t know. I got a feelin’ what happened is real serious. That her recovery’s gonna be pretty slow. Your gran’ma sent us money for train tickets. She wants us to come out.”

Brian slowly nodded. “That’s good, Pa. That‘s a good idea.” He hesitated. “What’s the matter?”

Sully folded his arms. “Nothin’. Just don’t know if I should haul the kids all the way out there for who knows how long.”

Brian stopped working and wiped off his hands with a towel. “Sounds like Gran’ma really wants Ma there right now. I get the feelin’ Ma wants to stay, but I know how much she must be missin’ all of us. I think you and the kids should go out and be with her.”

Sully gestured at him. “What about you? She has a ticket for you, too. I want ya to come, Brian.”

“I love Gran’ma, and I’m real worried about her. But I can’t leave. There’s too much goin’ on around here what with the Gazette.” He swallowed. “And Sarah’s here, Pa. I don’t want to take off not knowin’ how long I’ll be gone. Sides, I could watch the homestead for ya, make sure everything’s fine here.”

Sully nodded pensively. “All right, it’s up to you. If that’s what ya want.”

“Go to Boston, Pa. You and the kids. Ma needs your help.”

“We already have Dr. Hanson and Michaela,” Rebecca protested.

“Oh, I don’t know, Rebecca. Dr. Hanson’s getting on in years and I’m not sure if we can really expect him to be as sharp as he used to be. And Michaela herself admitted she doesn‘t have a lot of experience with this kind of injury.”

“But she’s been researching it night and day.”

“Why does everything have to be a fight when it comes to Mother?” Maureen griped. “I want her to have another doctor. What’s wrong with having another expert seeing to her?”

“I just don’t want her feeling uncomfortable, all these strangers coming in there examining her.”

“Oh, what’s one more doctor,” Maureen said dismissively. “She’s had to put up with a dozen of them already at that hospital.”

“Well, we’ll see how Michaela and Claudette feel about it,” she replied.

“Feel about what?” Michaela asked as she walked toward the door carrying a telegram.

Maureen eyed her impatiently. “I want Mother to have a different doctor. Of course she would still have you, but I want to replace Dr. Hanson.”

“Well, I’m not exactly fond of how pessimistic he is,” Michaela admitted. “Or the way he tends to ignore me and my opinions.”

“But changing her physician when she’s already been through so much?” Rebecca spoke up. “Surely that can’t be good for her. No, I think we should stay with who we have.”

“Well, I’d have to think about it. Is Mother sleeping?”

“I wouldn’t go in there,” Maureen warned.

“Why?”

“Just trust me for once, Michaela,” Maureen said with a sigh.

“Mother’s not in the best of moods this afternoon,” Rebecca said tactfully.

“Well, bad mood or not it’s time for her medicine,” Michaela said, opening the door. She was surprised to find the curtains drawn closed, darkening the room, and Elizabeth curled up on her side clutching her head as if she had a screaming headache.

“Are you all right, Mother?” Michaela asked curiously.

“Leave me be!” she retorted

Michaela walked to the curtains and drew them back, brightening the room. “There, that’s better!”

Elizabeth moaned and covered her eyes. “Close those drapes. And get out of here. I’m trying to sleep.”

“You’ve been sleeping all day. It’s time you get up and we do your exercises and Zoya gives you a bath. And I have good news. Sully‘s coming to visit. And he‘s bringing the children.” She handed her the telegram but Elizabeth just ignored it. Michaela put the telegram aside and slowly sat on the bed. “Mother, talk to me. Tell me what’s wrong.”

“What do you think is wrong? I’m a cripple confined to my bed day and night. I can’t do a thing for myself.”

Michaela gently patted her arm. “I know you had a very active social life before this. This is an incredible adjustment. Perhaps we could have some of your friends over for tea. Perhaps next week once the children arrive? Katie could join us. She‘d adore dressing up and going to a real tea party.”

“Lord no. I don’t want any of them to see me like this.” She sighed. “Besides, they’re all so busy with that flower show. They don’t have time to see me.”

Michaela drew in her breath, suddenly realizing. “Oh. The flower show. It’s this week, isn’t it?”

“And their chairwoman is not there.”

“Is that why you’re so upset?” Michaela murmured.

Elizabeth kept her face buried behind her hand.

Michaela took a deep breath. “Mother, I know how important that was to you, and how hard you’ve worked over the years to put together the best show possible. You can be very proud of the years and years you dedicated yourself to such a wonderful charity. Boston General Hospital is indebted to you.”

“Well, a lot of good I am to them now,” she muttered.

“Mother, you may not be able to chair a flower show, but you can still contribute to society. You can still make a difference. I know there’s always a need for smallpox vaccinations at those poor houses and orphanages down by the harbor. I’ve been thinking about going down there to administer them. But I would need someone generous enough to donate the vaccinations.”

“I suppose that would be me.”

“Those people are in desperate need, Mother,” she said zealously. “If you donate just a few vaccinations you could save hundreds, even thousands of lives.”

She slowly removed her hand and looked at her. “You sound just like your father. He always had such a passion for the poor.”

“He taught me I should help those who need me,” she replied.

“I don’t know, I feel sorry for those poor souls but I don’t know if it’s worth the risk, commingling among them and exposing yourself to God knows what.”

“Someone has to go in there. If not myself who’s going to do it?”

“All right, I’ll donate the vaccinations,” Elizabeth said. “I suppose it’ll help clean things up down there in any case.”

Michaela smiled excitedly. “Oh, thank you, Mother.”

“Well, they’re coming out here, are they? I told you so.”

Michaela immediately beamed. “I can’t wait.”

Elizabeth gently patted her hand. “Neither can I,” she said softly.

Sarah carried a steaming pumpkin pie to the table with a bright smile.

Byron, Katie and Red Eagle watched her place it on the table and cut it with a long knife, their eyes wide in anticipation.

Sully handed Sarah the children’s plates. “Thanks for cookin’ supper, Sarah. It was real good.”

“Kids really needed a break from me and Pa’s cookin’,” Brian added wryly.

Sarah smiled sweetly, placing a slice of pie on each plate and passing them back.

Byron took a big bite. “Yummy!”

Sarah finished dishing up the pie and took a seat.

“Sarah, can you help me study after supper?” Katie asked. “We have a spelling test tomorrow.”

“Ya ain’t gonna get much studyin’ done tonight, Kates. We’re gonna be busy,” Sully told her, a twinkle in his eye.

“Busy doin’ what?” Byron asked curiously.

“Packin’,” Sully replied simply, taking a bite of pie.

Katie and Byron exchanged confused glances.

Red Eagle scratched his head. “What are we packing for?”

Sully took a sip of coffee. “Cause tomorrow we’re goin’ on a little trip to Boston.”

The children’s confusion rapidly turned to pure joy.

“Boston?” Katie breathed. “To see Mama?!”

He grinned. “That‘s right. And your gran‘ma.”

“Oh, Papa!” Katie exclaimed, getting out of her seat and giving him a big hug. He chuckled and rubbed her back.

“You mean we’re gonna ride on the train and everything?” Byron asked, bouncing in his chair.

“I’ve never been on a train ride that far,” Red Eagle remarked.

“Help out Ma as much as ya can once ya get there,” Brian told them as Sarah refilled his coffee cup. “She’s gonna need your help with Gran’ma.”

“Aren’t you coming, Brian?” Red Eagle asked.

He gently grasped Sarah‘s hand and she smiled at him. “I’m gonna stay behind this time, take care of things here. I’ll be all right. Sides, ya won‘t be gone too long.”

“How long’s it gonna take to get there, Papa?” Byron asked.

“Bout four days,” he said, lifting Katie into his lap. “We’ll be there Friday night.”

Byron giggled with glee and suddenly started eating his pie as fast as he could.

“Hey, slow down,” Brian said. “You’ll give yourself a stomach ache.”

“But I wanna finish so I can pack,” he said, glancing up. “I wanna pack to see Mama.”

“Guess I can’t blame him,” Sully said with a smile. “I’m pretty anxious to see Mama myself.”

“Four days,” Katie said reverently. “We get to see Mama in four days!”

Where One Path Ends Poll

What do you think of Nurse Zoya? I agree with Elizabeth, she's impertinent and rude. I agree with Michaela. She's a lovely young girl and competent nurse. I agree with the kids, she's one pretty Russian. view results

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