Return to Summerhouse (The Summerhouse 2)

She didn’t smile at his words. “I want to examine you,” she said softly as she sat down on the bed beside him. She saw that his body under the covers barely lifted them. Slowly, she rolled back the coverlet, then a dingy sheet. At last she came to the man underneath. He was the thinnest person she’d ever seen, his body wasted away to less than a hundred pounds, but by the length of him, he was at least six feet tall.

And he was filthy. His body reeked of old sweat, as though he hadn’t had a bath in a very long time. Worse, there were bedsores all over him.

“I apologize for my appearance,” he said. “I am taking a long time to leave this earth. I seem to be going by ounces every day.”

She could tell he was embarrassed by his condition and didn’t want her or anyone else to see him as he was.

“Don’t talk,” she said softly. “I’m going to turn you over now. Just be still.”

“I will do what you wish,” he said gallantly, but she could tell he was feeling deep shame at the circumstances.

In the last years of Eddie’s life, Faith had turned him in bed, lifted him onto bedpans, and emptied and cleaned them afterward. She was used to what needed to be done with patients in their last months alive. With expertise and great gentleness, she put her arms around his bony shoulders and turned him so she could see the back of him. She didn’t let her horror show at what she saw under his nightshirt. There were deep sores over skin that barely covered his bones. Instead, she smiled as she put him back onto the pillow.

“You are truly an angel,” he said. “Your touch is gentle.”

Faith was working to keep her true feelings from showing on her face. She covered him with the sheet, then stood over the bed, looking down at him for a moment.

“You can see that there is not much to be done,” he said, smiling.

“Do your teeth hurt?” she asked.

“There are not many of them left to hurt,” he said, still smiling. “I lose one about every month now.” It was the closest he’d come to making a complaint.

Faith nodded, then went to the tray of food set on the bedside table, and lifted the napkin. There was a glass of milk and a bowl of something white. “What is this?” she asked as she picked up a spoon and poked at it.

“It is the invalid’s last meal. What a child eats. We come into the world with that and leave with the same thing.”

“What do you have for lunch and dinner?” She looked at him. “Please don’t make any jokes. Just tell me the truth.”

His smile left him. “It is the same, but sometimes I am allowed beef broth for dinner. I do not have much of an appetite. It does not matter what I eat. I am just waiting to leave this earth now. Dr. Gallagher assures me that I haven’t much longer to wait.”

Faith turned away from him for a moment and stared out the window. She had to get herself under control. She took a deep breath and looked back at him.

“William,” she said, “I don’t know what’s wrong with you and I don’t know how much longer you have to live, but I can assure you—no, I promise you—that I will make what time you have left more comfortable than it is now.”

He looked at her with wide eyes, not knowing what to say in response to her heartfelt declaration. Bending, she tucked the sheet around him, and tried to smile.

In the next second the door opened and in walked the gray-haired woman, his nurse. “What have y

ou done?” she cried. “The light hurts him.” She hurried across the room to draw the curtains over the windows. When the room was again dark and the dust was flying about, she turned to Faith. “I will tell the doctor of this and he will see that you are kept away from this room.”

Faith gave her a cold little smile. “You think so, do you?” She walked past the woman and left the room. When she was outside, she leaned against the door and took a few deep breaths of air, and for a moment she looked heavenward. “Did you see that, Eddie?” she whispered. “Did you ever see anything more horrible? But I’m going to fix it.” She raised her fists. “Whatever I have to do, I’m going to make that man’s last days comfortable.”

She hurried down the stairs and went straight into the kitchen. Amy was in the middle of the room, directing some women at their cooking. Faith meant to tell Amy what she’d seen, then demand that she be given free rein over him. She meant to be adult and professional. Instead, Faith took one look at Amy and all that she’d just seen came into her mind—and her stomach rebelled. She put her hand over her mouth and started running for the back door and the stairs outside. Amy was right behind her.

Faith threw up in the courtyard. She put her arms against the stone wall of the house and heaved up what little was in her stomach. It all seemed to go through her in great waves even after she was empty. She was aware that people were near and that Amy was saying things to them, but she didn’t know what they were doing. All that was in her mind was what she’d seen in that room.

“Better?” Amy asked as she handed Faith a damp cloth to wipe her mouth.

Faith nodded as Amy led her to a stone seat along the wall. They were alone so Amy must have sent the other people away.

“Tell me what happened,” Amy said, her arm around Faith’s shoulders.

“Have you seen him?” Faith managed to ask. Her stomach was still lurching.

“Not for months. I told you that Tristan left everything in the care of the family doctor.”

“A doctor?” Faith said, her voice rising. “How does he call himself that?”