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“Isn’t there anything else I can do?”
The physician sighed. “Possibly. Just keep talking to him, but first...”
He led her out into the hallway and nodded at a tall older woman in a crisp white smock. The woman sent Winifred an encouraging smile and disappeared into Zane’s room.
“First,” the physician continued, “you need to rest. Elvira will watch over him.”
Numb, Winifred laid her trembling hand on the physician’s sleeve. “You will send someone for me if—?”
“I will. You have my word. Now, Sandy’s waiting outside with the buggy to drive you home.”
How she got through the next hour she didn’t know. Sam greeted her at the door with a somber bow and Yan Li tried to smile but kept wiping tears off her cheeks.
But what broke Winifred’s heart were Rosemarie’s forlorn cries for her papa. She gathered the girl into her arms, then let Sam carry her luggage upstairs. She settled Rosemarie on the bed beside her and tried to sleep.
Hours later she awoke to find Rosemarie gone and a tray of tea and sandwiches on her bedside table. At first she couldn’t eat a single mouthful, but then she gave herself a stiff talking to. You must eat. You must keep up your strength. Do it for Zane and for Rosemarie.
Later that night she walked down the hill to the hospital and sat by Zane’s bed. She tried to do what Dr. Graham had advised, but it was hard to talk over her tears.
“I came on the train from St. Louis, Zane. It took the same three days but this time it seemed much, much longer because—” She broke off and smoothed her fingers over his limp hand.
“Rosemarie is fine. She’s getting so big now, isn’t she?
“Growing up just like a weed, my father would say. She is a beautiful child, Zane. She asks for you over and over, but I do not think she should see you like this. Later, perhaps, when you can open your eyes and can talk to her. Otherwise it might frighten her.”
She paused to steady her voice. It would not help him to hear her cry.
“Dr. Graham says you may be able to hear me, so I’m going to keep on talking.” She paused and drew in a shaky breath. “Well, let’s see. The conservatory faculty is in its usual uproar over who gets which rooms and what students and the first recital dates. It all seems silly and unimportant to me now that I am here, but I will tell you about it anyway since...since Dr. Graham thinks it may help you.”
She stroked his hand, then lifted it to her cheek. “My friend Millicent—I’ve told you about her, haven’t I? She also teaches piano. She helped me pack my valise. I was in such a dither I couldn’t think, so it is possible I have brought too many pairs of gloves but no undergarments.”
She watched his face for a flicker of life. Nothing. And his breathing remained unchanged.
“Sam is treating Yan Li as if she is made of spun sugar. He won’t even let her lift an iron skillet to scramble eggs!”
The nurse, Elvira Sorensen, now fully recovered from her gunshot wound, brought a glass of water for her and Winifred gulped down the contents. Her throat felt dry and scratchy from talking.
She talked until she couldn’t keep her eyes open any longer, and then Dr. Graham stepped in and gently guided her out and down the hall. Sandy was waiting to walk her home. Her heart swelled at the kindness of the young deputy, but she couldn’t articulate one single word of thanks. He seemed to understand. On the front porch he tipped his Stetson and gave her a thumbs-up sign.
Sam and Yan Li fussed over her and coddled Rosemarie until bedtime. They had set up an extra crib in their room off the kitchen, and Yan Li assured her that Rosemarie was used to sleeping downstairs.
“Baby sleep, no matter what,” Sam confided. “Same for you, missy. Must sleep.”
The following morning Yan Li made the little pancakes Zane liked so much. Rosemarie had developed a taste for them as well, though more ended up on her face than in her mouth. Winifred picked at her breakfast until Sam stood frowning beside her. “You eat,” he ordered. “Yan Li make special.”
An hour later Winifred tiptoed into Zane’s hospital room to find Dr. Graham bent over him, stethoscope in hand.
At her questioning look he shook his head.
“There’s been no change, my dear.”
She resumed her place at Zane’s bedside and again began to talk. She told him every inconsequential thing she could think of, about Yan Li’s pancakes and Rosemarie’s ability to smash them back into dough and smear them in her hair; the crisp sunshine outside; the lettuce in Yan Li’s garden that was going to seed in the fall heat; even Sam’s frowning presence beside her at her breakfast table.
