With Every Breath (27 page)

It felt odd rambling to Nathan about a new man, but who else could she talk to? They had never spoken about such things, but she was certain Nathan would hope for her to remarry someday. If she’d been the one to die early, she would have wanted Nathan to find a good woman to marry.

She knelt down on the grass, clinging to Nathan’s stone as she closed her eyes and prayed.
Dear Lord, am I making the right decision? Trevor needs
someone to help him, but I don’t think he’s doing the right thing by risking his life. I
don’t think I have the strength to support him.
I don’t think I can go through this again.
What is it you want me to do?

There was no answer except the wind rustling in the trees overhead. Chilly air seeped through her cloak, and she pulled it tighter. She stood and looked across at the two square stones marking Carl’s and Jamie’s resting spots. Only their initials were carved into the stones. Her parents had been too poor to afford proper stones when they died, and afterward Kate had grown attached to these simple markers and didn’t want to change them.

Why had God given her parents these two boys if they were going to die so early? They never had a chance to leave their marks on the world. Tick didn’t even remember them anymore. Aside from Kate and her parents, there was no one else to remember Carl or Jamie Norton.

Surely it was a blessing that no one could see into the future. She couldn’t have borne the agony of knowing what would happen to Nathan or her brothers. It would have been a constant sword hovering over her head, clouding her every hour with them. She was grateful she hadn’t known what life had in store for them. With Trevor, she knew.

Fresh grief washed through her. She wasn’t sorry she’d been blessed with Nathan or her brothers, but she’d never willingly invite this sort of misery back into her life. She hoped one day she would find another man to love, but it could not be Trevor McDonough.

She would have to quit her position at the hospital. It would be impossible to sit only a few feet away from him every day. To hold her breath every Monday while Henry tested Trevor’s slide, waiting to learn if this was the week he had finally contracted the disease again.

She would need to find another position, for her parents depended on her income, especially since almost half of their boarders had left, and finding the money for the bank note at the end of the month was going to be dicey.

It didn’t matter how much she loved working alongside Trevor. She pushed herself to her feet. There was no point dwelling on it. She knew what needed to be done.

* * * *

Trevor wasn’t going to take the news of her resignation well. Kate lay awake most of the night as she mustered the strength to walk away from the best job she ever had. Each time she tried to talk herself into staying, she remembered waiting in the doorway of the laboratory as Henry checked Trevor’s slide. She couldn’t endure that every week for the rest of her life, not when Trevor was choosing to put himself into the path of an oncoming train. How could she have children with a man who wouldn’t take reasonable precautions? A man who loved his job more than he loved his wife?

Her note of resignation weighed heavily in her skirt pocket as she climbed the stairs to the hospital’s top floor the next morning. She dreaded giving it to Trevor. Resting her hand on
the door to their office, she murmured a prayer for strength, then walked inside.

Trevor’s chair was empty.

“I believe he’s up on the roof, ma’am,” Tick said from his post by the rear entrance.

It was a sunny day but a chilly one. Would Trevor really be lying in the sun on such a day? But he did in the Himalayas, which surely was more uncomfortable than autumn in Washington. And if sunlight had medicinal benefits, she wanted him outside soaking up every moment of it.

She let herself onto the roof. Trevor was fully clothed, an open notebook resting on the ledge of a nearby brick wall. It was the first time she’d seen him since their encounter in the linen closet, and she braced herself.

“What are you doing up here?”

“I’m writing notes for the architect. I want this space ready for patients by the spring.”

He didn’t look at her as he spoke, his tone calm and professional. Cold. A few months ago she would have mistaken that behavior as detached, but now she knew better. His knuckles were white and his jaw clenched. Trevor was barely hanging on. She walked to stand beside him.

“I need to give you this,” she said gently.

“What is it?” He glanced at the note, refusing to take it.

“I need to resign, Trevor. You know why.”

He finally looked up at her, and this time his eyes were furious. “I never took you for a quitter, Kate.” He dropped his pencil and folded his arms across his chest.

“Fine, I’m a quitter. You win. Is that what you wanted to hear?”

“Trust me, I don’t feel like I’m winning right now.” He turned from her to brace his hands on the edge of the wall, gripping it
as he looked out over the treetops. His shoulders rose and fell with the strength of his breath, and then he sagged. When he spoke again, his voice sounded drained.

“Why are you giving up so easily?” he asked. “We’ve got a future worth having. A future filled with hope and passion and accomplishment.”

“With fear and a dying husband.”

He smacked his hand against the side of the brick wall. “I love you.” He turned to her, his face full of longing. “I love your fire and intelligence and your humor. I love the way you never back down from a challenge. Don’t let me down now, Kate.”

“You don’t even love me enough to tell me why you changed your name.”

He gave a bitter laugh. “Is that all it would take? Fine. I changed my name because I despise my father and I want nothing to do with him. That’s not the reason you’re running away. Don’t try to pin this on me.”

The wind tugged at her hair, and a chill raced through her body. She turned away from the anger simmering in his eyes.

“You’re right. I’m running away because I can’t stand by and watch you kill yourself trying to cure tuberculosis. I understand you’re a competitive person, and once you start a race it’s hard to back out, but there are other challenges in medicine you could tackle. Why does it have to be this one?”

“Because I have been called. I’ve known it since the day I climbed to the top of a mountain with two children destined to die from this disease. I can’t refuse that call. Never. Not even if it costs me the woman I love.”

He strode to the door and headed downstairs without looking back. He still hadn’t taken the note from her hands.

She followed him down, surprised to see Nurse Ackerman waiting for them at the base of the staircase.

“A message has arrived for you, Dr. Kendall. It’s urgent.”

Trevor’s back stiffened. How she hated that her nerves seized up every time Trevor opened his mail. It would help if the private detectives he hired had made the least bit of progress in discovering who’d polluted her home with that foul medical waste, but they had learned nothing.

Trevor scanned the message, and his shoulders sagged.

Only for a moment. Then he straightened and headed toward their office without a word. She exchanged a nervous glance with Tick and Nurse Ackerman, both of whom shrugged in bewilderment.

She followed Trevor into their office, watching as he banged in and out of drawers, stuffing a bag with equipment.

“What’s wrong, Trevor?”

He swallowed hard and grabbed his wool overcoat from the hook. “Mrs. Kendall is dying,” he replied. “Her daughter asked me to come at once. I’ll stay with her until she passes. Then I’ll be back to talk to the architects about the roof.” He finished packing his medical bag, his face closed and somber, the corners of his mouth turned down.

Mrs. Kendall was the closest thing to a family Trevor had left. Kate could only imagine the pain he must be feeling, but in typical Trevor fashion he was icily silent.

“If there’s anything I can do—”

“I don’t need anything.”

She wanted to shake him. Was it possible Trevor never learned to ask for help? If he was banished from his home for some mysterious reason when he was only thirteen, perhaps he never had someone to lean on in a time of need.

“I know you don’t
need
my help, but I want you to have it if it will make these next few days any easier.”

He froze in the doorway. All Kate could see was the back
of his overcoat and his dark head, but the tension in his entire body was obvious. He was so alone. All his life Trevor had been alone. Now she was leaving him as well, and Mrs. Kendall would be gone soon.

He turned, and she could see the hard-set line of his profile. “The only thing I really need is a competent assistant. I don’t have time to search for your replacement. You can help by placing an advertisement in the appropriate places and interviewing the qualified applicants.”

“You want
me
to do that?”

Trevor nodded on his way to the door. “You know the position better than anyone. Get someone on board right away. The sooner you’re gone, the better.”

20

K
ate was busier than ever in the days that followed. Dr. Schrader, the one who reminded her of Santa Claus, filled in for Trevor to examine the patients each day and collect the data. She dutifully processed the statistics and filed them for Trevor’s review when he got back.

In Trevor’s absence she handled the appointment with architect Clifford Watson to explain the plans for expanding the clinic onto the roof. Kate knew exactly what Trevor wanted done, and she showed Mr. Watson the rooftop space. With a neatly groomed beard and warm brown eyes, the architect was enthusiastic as he scanned the roof.

“We can build a windscreen on the eastern side to make it more pleasant for the patients,” he offered.

“Probably a good thing,” Kate said as she burrowed a little deeper into her cloak. The October air was chilly, and it was always breezy up here. After showing the architect the roof, she escorted Mr. Watson to the staff table. He spread out a large piece of drafting paper and began sketching potential plans. His expert hands were swift as they filled the page with possibilities.

“We will need to have an elevator installed, as some of the patients will be too weak to climb the stairs,” Kate said. Was this something Trevor could afford? It was always such a mystery about where he got his money. He seemed so frugal in his personal life, but his generosity toward the clinic made her suspect he had a bottomless bank account somewhere.

“I can draw up a proposal with an elevator, and one without,” Mr. Watson said. “It will certainly be the biggest expense of the project.”

Kate pointed to a blank space. “Trevor would like to install some sort of heating mechanism here. He thinks this will buy the patients a few more months during the colder seasons.”

“I’ll make a note of it,” Mr. Watson said. He cleared his throat and adjusted his tie. “Forgive me, Mrs. Livingston. I cannot help but notice you do not wear a wedding ring.”

Feeling embarrassed, she nodded and said, “I’m a widow.”

“Ah.” And with that simple word she felt the atmosphere shift. “My condolences. It was a recent event?”

“Four years ago. Can we discuss the options for supplying power to the heater? I don’t know if gas or coal would be more efficient.”

Anything rather than discuss her widowhood or romantic availability. Trevor owned her heart right now. Someday, after she was no longer working here at the hospital, perhaps she’d be free to look at another man that way, but not now.

The worst part of her day was reviewing the applications that flooded in for her job. Letters of interest began the day after she placed the advertisement, and each one of them hurt as she reviewed the letters. All of the men applying for the job had college degrees, and most of them had experience with laboratory research. It made her appreciate just how big a risk Trevor took when he’d hired her. She put aside the applications from the people who should be brought in to interview.

The third day of Trevor’s absence, she arrived at work to see that Tick wasn’t at his post. Neither was Nurse Ackerman. She looked over to an attendant who was preparing to wheel a breakfast cart into the men’s ward.

“Where is everyone?” she asked.

The attendant lowered her voice to a whisper. “One of the young ladies died last night. Miss Wexler.”

“No!” The world tilted, and Kate grabbed on to the back of a chair to steady herself. It wasn’t possible. Hannah had been doing so well, and her blood counts were strong. Poor, sweet Hannah Wexler . . . the very first patient she’d met here. Kate swallowed hard. She and Hannah were the same age. Hannah would never see her thirtieth birthday.

Trevor’s serum must not be working. She closed her eyes as the implications sank in. The numbers in Hannah’s blood had been good. Every day as she entered data into the charts, Kate had silently cheered as Hannah’s blood got stronger. She drifted toward the women’s ward on legs that felt weak as balsa wood. Tick loitered in the doorway, twisting his cap in his hands.

“You heard?” he asked quietly.

Kate nodded. She dreaded stepping into the women’s ward, but Nurse Ackerman might need help. She tied a mask over her face and stepped into the ward.

The privacy curtains had been pulled on the rods above Hannah’s bed. Nurse Ackerman stood on the other side of the room, manipulating the rubber tubing for a steam treatment to help loosen Blanche Groveland’s lungs. Blanche’s health had been plummeting for weeks. Why had Hannah died, while Blanche was able to hang on?

Nurse Ackerman’s eyes widened in relief when she spotted Kate. “I’ve sent for Dr. Schrader, but someone will need to help him with the autopsy. Can you do it? Three nurses are out sick
with the flu, and the autopsy needs to be done within the next hour.”

“I wouldn’t know what to do.” Her stomach cringed at the very idea. She wasn’t strong enough to stand by while a girl who’d been her friend was opened up and poked and prodded. She wanted to run.