Another Dawn (13 page)

      
Sofie didn't care what kind of clothes Mrs. Fleming brought her to wear this morning. All she wanted was to remain submerged in the tub of warm water in the small room where she'd spent the night.

      
Hiding from the big bad world.

      
"Hiding is not allowed, Dr. Sofie."
 
She wrinkled her nose at the sound of her title and sighed, splashing warm water over her bare breasts and abdomen.
 

      
Despite the tiny metal tub, the warm water felt luxurious, even if filling it had been a real pain. Carrying hot water to the tub had seemed foreign to her. European maybe. Was it? Or was her loss of memory the only reason the chore seemed odd?
 

      
No, she remembered bathing, and showers, too. This was weird. She closed her eyes and pictured a large white tub, with shiny knobs that controlled the flow of water. In fact, as the water cooled, she had the urge to reach up and turn on the hot water with her toes, but there was nothing to turn.

      
Something she'd done many times in her life. Hadn't she?

      
Using an outhouse was the worst, though. She frowned, remembering the small building behind the schoolhouse, which Dora had pointed to when Sofie asked about the bathroom. A "two-holer."
 
Luxury?

      
Everything was odd. She was odd, according to Mrs. Fleming's daughter Dora. Sofie leaned her head back against the smooth slope of copper that formed the tub's rim.

      
"Mother, where's she from? I can't believe you're going to let a stranger wear my clothes."
 
Dora's shrill, nasal voice came through the closed door clearly. Unfortunately.

      
"She doesn't remember who she is, let alone where she's from," Mrs. Fleming answered, her tone strained and clipped. "She arrived with the priest yesterday afternoon. Besides, letting her borrow some of your clothes is the Christian thing to do."

      
"Well, if you ask me, that priest is every bit as strange as she is."

      
"Dora," Mrs. Fleming scolded, "you're being unkind. If he seems strange, it's because we're unaccustomed to their ways, child."

      
Their
ways? Sofie sank deeper into the cooling water, immersing her shoulders as far as possible.
 

      
"That's true," Dora said.

      
What's true
? Maybe Dora understood her mother's meaning, but Sofie was still baffled. She grabbed the huge bar of soap, which smelled and felt like anything but soap, and lathered herself all over, avoiding the tender wound on her temple.

      
"The Catholic Church has peculiar ways," Mrs. Fleming said. "Your daddy–God rest his soul–always said it was merely a different path to the same place."

      
"Sounds like a very wise man."
 
Father Salazar's voice sounded just beyond the door.
 

      
"Oh, dear. Father, we meant no harm, I was merely explaining–"

      
"That's all right, Mrs. Fleming."

      
Sofie cocked her head to one side, listening to every syllable. The sound of his voice eased and reassured her, made her warm from within. Father Salazar sounded different this morning–more relaxed and cheerful. Younger. Perhaps he'd rested, too. She certainly felt younger and more cheerful today

–black and blue and rosy.

      
Grimacing, she dumped a pitcher of water over her soapy head. "Ow!"
 
Soapy water and nasty cuts were not friends, and it didn't take a medical degree to know that. "Dummy."
 
Pressing the corner of her towel against her wound, she waited for the stinging to stop.

      
"Are you all right, Sofie?" Father Salazar called through the closed door.
 

      
"Fine."
 
Sofie bolted up, sloshing water onto the floor as she clutched the towel to her bare breasts. The sound of his voice, so comforting a moment ago, sent shivers through her now–shivers she couldn't even begin to blame on the water's temperature. "Just got soap in my eye."
 

      
My God, I just lied to a priest.

      
"All right, I'll see you at breakfast."

      
Her stomach grumbled in response. Right on cue. She giggled quietly.
 

      
"Who's taking care of the patients this morning, Mrs. Fleming?" Father Salazar asked.

      
A pang of guilt wormed its way through Sofie. She should hurry.

      
"It's the Browns' turn to nurse this morning," Mrs. Fleming said. "There are six of them–all girls. Luckily for them, their father insisted they all be inoculated for smallpox before they left Kansas City."

      
"That's good news."

      
"He learned the hard way," Mrs. Fleming continued. "Jedediah Brown lost his mother and brother to pox when he was a child."

      
"
Definitely
another wise man."
 
Father Salazar's voice sounded distant and strained. "I wonder when they started requiring smallpox vaccinations."

      
"Required?" Dora echoed. "I didn't know that."

      
"I mean, when
will
they require them."

      
"Breakfast will be ready shortly, Father," Mrs. Fleming said. "Let me just take Sofie some decent clothes. These don't fit Dora anymore, but I do believe Sofie's a mite
smaller
in places."

      
"Mother."
 
Dora groaned.

      
"Fine," Father Salazar said. "Where's Dr. Wilson this morning?"

      
"Oh, he's out at Zeke Judson's cabin near the creek," Dora explained quickly. "The vaccine arrived this morning."

      
"Vaccine?" Father Salazar echoed.

      
"For the inoculations," Mrs. Fleming said. "Dr. Wilson ordered it from back East right after the first miner come down with smallpox."

      
"Oh, of course."

      
"Too little, too late, I'm afraid. If only it had come sooner..."
 
Mrs. Fleming gave a dramatic sigh. "As I recall, my brother the doctor said it takes weeks for the inoculation to protect a body even after it's been given."

      
"Oh, I see. Like a flu shot," Father Salazar said.

      
Sofie nodded. That made sense. "Oh."
 
She brought her hand to her mouth, surprised by her own thoughts. Did this mean she'd finally remembered something from her medical background, or was it common knowledge that flu shots took a couple of weeks to become effective?

      
"Flu shot?" Dora asked. "I've never heard of such a thing. What is it? Mother?"

      
"I have no idea, dear."

      
Carefully, Sofie finished rinsing her hair and body, avoiding the wound at her temple. She climbed from the tub and dried herself quickly, then wrapped the sheet around her, securing it under one arm.

      
She went to the mirror to stare at her face again. The brusing at her temple had spread to include her eye this morning. Nothing she could do about that, but her hair was another matter. Damp curls hung in spirals to her shoulders. "Utter chaos," she whispered. Mrs. Fleming had called that one right.

      
How had Sofie worn her hair before yesterday? Up like the other ladies she'd seen here in Redemption, or down and in utter chaos? Cocking her head to the side, she studied her ebony locks. The utter chaos seemed right for some reason. It was her–whoever that was.

      
For now, she had to look at this as a new beginning, regardless of how she'd worn her hair or behaved two days ago, or whether or not she'd wanted or needed a fresh start. Of course, there were far more important issues she should take into consideration, like what kind of foods did she like or dislike? Was she allergic to anything? Where had she gone to medical school? What kind of doctor was she–a specialist? Had anybody loved her? Would anyone miss her?

      
"Who the hell am I?"

      
A soft knock made her whirl around just as the door opened. Her pulse leapt at the base of her throat as she waited to identify the visitor. Would Father Salazar walk in uninvited?

While she was undressed?

      
She clutched the towel more tightly across her breasts a moment before Mrs. Fleming peered around the corner. "Good, you're finished."
 
She closed the door behind her and walked over to the bed, placing a stack of neatly folded clothing on the bed. She took the pale gray dress hanging over her arm and held it out in front of her. "What do you think?"

      
Relieved was the first word that popped into Sofie's mind, because the dress was simple and ruffle-free.
Whew
. And long, but at least it didn't have frills. "Thank you, it's lovely."
 
She crossed the room and touched the soft fabric. "I'm sure this must belong to your daughter."
 
Of course, she knew that only too well, after listening to Dora's whining on this very subject.
 

      
"Yes, it's Dora's, but she's gained a few inches through the middle these last couple years."
 
Mrs. Fleming spread the dress out on the patchwork quilt. "Being a spinster hasn't agreed with her, I'm afraid."
 
The woman sighed heavily.

      
Sofie had only seen Dora briefly yesterday. "A spinster? She doesn't even look twenty."

      
"Twenty come March."
 
Mrs. Fleming cast Sofie a sober look. "By the way, I'll be speaking to Jenny about her mother right after I take Dr. Wilson his breakfast...."

      
Remembering why they were all here in this building in the first place, Sofie nodded. There were people sick and dying here–people who needed the medical expertise she supposedly possessed. "I'll hurry and get dressed."

      
"Dr. Wilson might send word for you to come help with the inoculations, if you aren't needed here today."

      
Give shots? With needles
? Shuddering, Sofie made no response as she watched Mrs. Fleming walk toward the door. The woman looked poised and polished, completely together, despite the tragedy awaiting them in the other room.

      
"I'll do whatever I can to help," Sofie promised, and meant it. Though she knew none of these people, she'd seen enough suffering yesterday to know they needed any help she could offer, medical or otherwise.

      
"I know you will."
 
Mrs. Fleming looked over her shoulder and smiled. "I'll help Dora finish breakfast, then I'll take a tray over to Dr. Wilson. The man won't even stop to eat if I don't practically spoon-feed him myself. Not only that, but he forgets for days on end that a body needs sleep."

      
"He's lucky to have you, Mrs. Fleming."
 
Sofie watched a blush creep from Mrs. Fleming's collar and bloom in her cheeks. The woman was obviously in love with the aging physician. Did Dr. Wilson realize it? Probably not, but she hoped he would eventually, after the epidemic. After hell on earth.

      
"How many patients do we have this morning?" Sofie wasn't sure she wanted to hear the answer. "Any new cases?"
Any more deaths?

      
"No new cases."
 
Mrs. Fleming folded her hands beneath her chin. "And I pray to God there won't
be
any more new cases. As of this morning, we still have fifteen patients, plus the burned stranger."

      
"Fifteen?" Sofie swayed and sat on the edge of the bed. Hard. "There were twenty-two last night when I went to bed. Does that mean...?"

      
Mrs. Fleming blinked rapidly and looked down for a few moments, then met Sofie's gaze. "Seven more passed on during the night."

      
"Oh, God. Oh, no."
 
Sofie brought her knuckle to her mouth and bit down. This was too horrible. Children, mothers, fathers... This relentless and insidious disease killed indiscriminately.

      
The older woman crossed the room again and placed her hand on Sofie's shoulder. "I know it's hard, but it was their time, child."

      
"No."
 
Sofie shook her head and stared at Mrs. Fleming, who had known and cared about this people. "I can't–I
won't
–believe there's anything ordained about any of this."