shaking with anxiety, only to remember that the real nightmare was over. No more work gangs, lice-ridden cells, meals of rice and bad meat, prison bosses wielding whips from horseback. No more fellow convicts sneaking up on him to steal what little he had, food or clothes or the cane he kept hidden under his mattress.
He was free. And he was grateful to his very soul for Mr. Benedict’s trust.
If a man committed himself to a life of service, he thought, he might as well be the best servant he could. His life may not have fulfilled his mother’s hopes, but it was a good life, and the affection of the Benedict children—two of them, in any case—had been an unexpected grace. A blessing for which he was humbly thankful. He was happy enough. Too happy to let a nasty-mouthed Brit ruin his day.
He poured bleach on the grease spot on the cement, and began to scrub.
C HAPTER 4
Margot found Sister Therese drowsing in her whitewashed iron bed, with another of the Holy Names sisters perched on a stool beside her. The visitor’s black robes pooled around her on the tiled floor, and the white of her wimple gleamed under the bare electric light of the ward. The patient, bereft of her habit, wore a white scarf wrapped around her head that made her look round eyed and vulnerable, like an infant. She roused to give Margot a wan smile. “Dr. Benedict,” she said faintly. “You’re so kind to come and see me every day.”
“Good morning, Sister Therese.” Margot set her bag down at the end of the bed, and nodded to the other nun. She cast a quick look over the ward. There were eight beds, but only half were occupied. The radiator clanked quietly to one side, but otherwise the room was quiet. She bent over her patient, and folded back the bleached chenille coverlet. “How do you feel? Any pain?”
“Oh, no, no pain.”
The other nun scowled. “She was in pain. They gave her an injection, but it made her awful sleepy.”
Margot nodded. “It was scopolamine. Being sleepy is fine. Rest is what she needs now.” She loosened the bandage over the surgical site, and pulled it away to reveal a nicely healing incision, the edges well matched, the skin pink and cool. “Did the injection help?”
“Oh, yes.”
Margot pressed lightly with her fingers, finding the belly soft to the touch.
“Dr. Whitely did such a good job, didn’t he?” Sister Therese said. She craned her neck a little to see the incision. “Such neat stitches.”
Margot smoothed the bandage back over the incision. “Actually, these stitches are mine. But yes, your surgeon did a good job.”
“Your stitches?” the visitor said suspiciously. “We understood the doctor would do the operation.”
“Sister!” Sister Therese hissed. “Dr. Benedict is a doctor.”
“Well, I know, but—”
“Sister!” the patient said again. Drops of anxious perspiration appeared on her forehead.
“Never mind, Sister Therese.” Margot replaced the chenille blanket over her patient, and took her wrist to feel the steadiness of her pulse. “Your incision looks good. I’ll take these stitches out tomorrow, and as long as your appetite is good and you have no problems with your bowels, you can go home next week.”
Sister Therese caught Margot’s hand in her own small ones, and held it. “I felt so much braver knowing you were there with me, Dr. Benedict. God bless you.”
Margot’s heart gave a little leap of pleasure. It was for moments like this she had wanted to be a physician. Even if Sister Therese had no idea how close she had come to disaster, it gave Margot a rush of satisfaction to feel the pressure of those cool little hands, to see the spark of life shining in her patient’s eyes. She gently released herself, and straightened, smiling down at the little nun. “If you have any more pain, tell Matron to call me.”
“I will. And I’ll pray for you.”
Margot paused in the act of picking up her bag from the foot of the bed. “Thank you, Sister
He was free. And he was grateful to his very soul for Mr. Benedict’s trust.
If a man committed himself to a life of service, he thought, he might as well be the best servant he could. His life may not have fulfilled his mother’s hopes, but it was a good life, and the affection of the Benedict children—two of them, in any case—had been an unexpected grace. A blessing for which he was humbly thankful. He was happy enough. Too happy to let a nasty-mouthed Brit ruin his day.
He poured bleach on the grease spot on the cement, and began to scrub.
C HAPTER 4
Margot found Sister Therese drowsing in her whitewashed iron bed, with another of the Holy Names sisters perched on a stool beside her. The visitor’s black robes pooled around her on the tiled floor, and the white of her wimple gleamed under the bare electric light of the ward. The patient, bereft of her habit, wore a white scarf wrapped around her head that made her look round eyed and vulnerable, like an infant. She roused to give Margot a wan smile. “Dr. Benedict,” she said faintly. “You’re so kind to come and see me every day.”
“Good morning, Sister Therese.” Margot set her bag down at the end of the bed, and nodded to the other nun. She cast a quick look over the ward. There were eight beds, but only half were occupied. The radiator clanked quietly to one side, but otherwise the room was quiet. She bent over her patient, and folded back the bleached chenille coverlet. “How do you feel? Any pain?”
“Oh, no, no pain.”
The other nun scowled. “She was in pain. They gave her an injection, but it made her awful sleepy.”
Margot nodded. “It was scopolamine. Being sleepy is fine. Rest is what she needs now.” She loosened the bandage over the surgical site, and pulled it away to reveal a nicely healing incision, the edges well matched, the skin pink and cool. “Did the injection help?”
“Oh, yes.”
Margot pressed lightly with her fingers, finding the belly soft to the touch.
“Dr. Whitely did such a good job, didn’t he?” Sister Therese said. She craned her neck a little to see the incision. “Such neat stitches.”
Margot smoothed the bandage back over the incision. “Actually, these stitches are mine. But yes, your surgeon did a good job.”
“Your stitches?” the visitor said suspiciously. “We understood the doctor would do the operation.”
“Sister!” Sister Therese hissed. “Dr. Benedict is a doctor.”
“Well, I know, but—”
“Sister!” the patient said again. Drops of anxious perspiration appeared on her forehead.
“Never mind, Sister Therese.” Margot replaced the chenille blanket over her patient, and took her wrist to feel the steadiness of her pulse. “Your incision looks good. I’ll take these stitches out tomorrow, and as long as your appetite is good and you have no problems with your bowels, you can go home next week.”
Sister Therese caught Margot’s hand in her own small ones, and held it. “I felt so much braver knowing you were there with me, Dr. Benedict. God bless you.”
Margot’s heart gave a little leap of pleasure. It was for moments like this she had wanted to be a physician. Even if Sister Therese had no idea how close she had come to disaster, it gave Margot a rush of satisfaction to feel the pressure of those cool little hands, to see the spark of life shining in her patient’s eyes. She gently released herself, and straightened, smiling down at the little nun. “If you have any more pain, tell Matron to call me.”
“I will. And I’ll pray for you.”
Margot paused in the act of picking up her bag from the foot of the bed. “Thank you, Sister
Similar Books
