our life back the same as it was.”
“We will. But you must stay strong and not give up.”
They were still clinging tightly to each other when Eugenia heard a carriage pull to a stop out front. “Are you expecting someone?” she asked.
“It’s probably Dr. Hunter. He stops by to see Harrison when he is out this way.”
“Dry your eyes, dear, and be strong. I’ll let him in.” Eugenia composed herself as she made her way to the door, smoothing her skirt and tucking her hair into place. She raised her chin andsmiled pleasantly as she opened the door to greet the doctor. “Good afternoon, Dr. Hunter. How are you?”
“Mrs. Weatherly!” He snatched off his hat and gave a respectful bow. “How nice to see you.”
“Haven’t I scolded you before for not calling me Eugenia?” she said with a flirtatious smile.
“Yes . . . thank you. You look wonderful, Eugenia.” He couldn’t seem to move from the doorstep, gazing at her with admiration in his eyes—and perhaps longing. The doctor had been a friend of Philip’s before the war, stopping by occasionally to play chess with him and sip bourbon. “I believe David Hunter comes here to see you, not me,” Philip used to tease her. “He never fails to tell me how beautiful you are, and what a lucky man I am.”
The doctor cleared his throat. He seemed embarrassed, as if he’d read Eugenia’s thoughts. “I . . . um, I haven’t had a chance to talk to you since the war ended, but I wanted to tell you how sorry I was to hear about Philip and Samuel.”
“Thank you. And I understand that you lost your wife, as well?”
He nodded solemnly. “I sent her to stay with her mother while I was away, thinking she would be better off in Savannah, but she and her mother both died of a fever.”
“I’m so sorry. Please come in, David. I know Priscilla is eager to talk with you about Harrison.”
“Yes, of course. I’ll go see my patient first, if you don’t mind.” He disappeared into Harrison’s bedroom on the first floor, and a moment later Josephine and Mary filed out to give him privacy. The girls looked as relieved as escaped prisoners.
“I’m being a terrible hostess, aren’t I?” Priscilla said. “Would you ladies like some tea?”
“No, don’t fuss,” Eugenia said. “We’re fine, aren’t we girls?” Mary nodded and sat down with them in the parlor to chat, and it did seem to buoy Priscilla’s spirits to engage in pleasant conversation for a while. Josephine disappeared as usual. Eugenia heard the soft clatter of plates and cups down in the kitchen and guessedthat her daughter was washing the dishes. Why in the world did that girl insist on playing the role of a servant?
Fifteen minutes later, the doctor emerged from Harrison’s bedroom with a worried expression. “May I have a word with you, Mrs. Blake?”
Eugenia stood. “We should be on our way,” she said, but Priscilla gripped her hand.
“No, wait! Please! I don’t want you to leave. If it’s bad news, I-I need you . . .”
“Of course, dear. Mary, kindly wait outside by our carriage. I’ll be along in just a moment.”
“How is he?” Priscilla asked when Mary was gone. Tears filled her eyes before Dr. Hunter even had a chance to reply.
“There is nothing physically wrong with him, Mrs. Blake. His wound has fully healed. I know that he’s been complaining of phantom pain in his missing leg, but that’s very common.”
“He barely eats, and he’s growing weaker every day. He ended his engagement with Emma Welch and now he has driven all our servants away.”
“Yes, he told me about Miss Welch.”
“He keeps saying that he wants to die, and I’m so afraid he will do something . . . that I’ll find him . . .”
The doctor rested his hand on her shoulder. “I don’t know of any cure for despair. I’m so sorry. But I promise to stop in to visit him more often, if you’d like. And I’ll see about getting some government rations for both
“We will. But you must stay strong and not give up.”
They were still clinging tightly to each other when Eugenia heard a carriage pull to a stop out front. “Are you expecting someone?” she asked.
“It’s probably Dr. Hunter. He stops by to see Harrison when he is out this way.”
“Dry your eyes, dear, and be strong. I’ll let him in.” Eugenia composed herself as she made her way to the door, smoothing her skirt and tucking her hair into place. She raised her chin andsmiled pleasantly as she opened the door to greet the doctor. “Good afternoon, Dr. Hunter. How are you?”
“Mrs. Weatherly!” He snatched off his hat and gave a respectful bow. “How nice to see you.”
“Haven’t I scolded you before for not calling me Eugenia?” she said with a flirtatious smile.
“Yes . . . thank you. You look wonderful, Eugenia.” He couldn’t seem to move from the doorstep, gazing at her with admiration in his eyes—and perhaps longing. The doctor had been a friend of Philip’s before the war, stopping by occasionally to play chess with him and sip bourbon. “I believe David Hunter comes here to see you, not me,” Philip used to tease her. “He never fails to tell me how beautiful you are, and what a lucky man I am.”
The doctor cleared his throat. He seemed embarrassed, as if he’d read Eugenia’s thoughts. “I . . . um, I haven’t had a chance to talk to you since the war ended, but I wanted to tell you how sorry I was to hear about Philip and Samuel.”
“Thank you. And I understand that you lost your wife, as well?”
He nodded solemnly. “I sent her to stay with her mother while I was away, thinking she would be better off in Savannah, but she and her mother both died of a fever.”
“I’m so sorry. Please come in, David. I know Priscilla is eager to talk with you about Harrison.”
“Yes, of course. I’ll go see my patient first, if you don’t mind.” He disappeared into Harrison’s bedroom on the first floor, and a moment later Josephine and Mary filed out to give him privacy. The girls looked as relieved as escaped prisoners.
“I’m being a terrible hostess, aren’t I?” Priscilla said. “Would you ladies like some tea?”
“No, don’t fuss,” Eugenia said. “We’re fine, aren’t we girls?” Mary nodded and sat down with them in the parlor to chat, and it did seem to buoy Priscilla’s spirits to engage in pleasant conversation for a while. Josephine disappeared as usual. Eugenia heard the soft clatter of plates and cups down in the kitchen and guessedthat her daughter was washing the dishes. Why in the world did that girl insist on playing the role of a servant?
Fifteen minutes later, the doctor emerged from Harrison’s bedroom with a worried expression. “May I have a word with you, Mrs. Blake?”
Eugenia stood. “We should be on our way,” she said, but Priscilla gripped her hand.
“No, wait! Please! I don’t want you to leave. If it’s bad news, I-I need you . . .”
“Of course, dear. Mary, kindly wait outside by our carriage. I’ll be along in just a moment.”
“How is he?” Priscilla asked when Mary was gone. Tears filled her eyes before Dr. Hunter even had a chance to reply.
“There is nothing physically wrong with him, Mrs. Blake. His wound has fully healed. I know that he’s been complaining of phantom pain in his missing leg, but that’s very common.”
“He barely eats, and he’s growing weaker every day. He ended his engagement with Emma Welch and now he has driven all our servants away.”
“Yes, he told me about Miss Welch.”
“He keeps saying that he wants to die, and I’m so afraid he will do something . . . that I’ll find him . . .”
The doctor rested his hand on her shoulder. “I don’t know of any cure for despair. I’m so sorry. But I promise to stop in to visit him more often, if you’d like. And I’ll see about getting some government rations for both
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