The Christmas Eve Letter: A Time Travel Novel (20 page)

She left the train completely disoriented and wound up on Wall Street, a Wall Street that didn’t look even remotely like the Wall Street of her time, except that Trinity Church was the tallest building around.  There were no glass or steel towers, just brownstones on either side of the street.  Vendors and delivery men driving wagons contested each other for the right of way, and men in tall silk hats walked aggressively along the sidewalks, puffing on cigars, the smoke trailing behind them.

Eve drew up to a freckle-faced shoe-shine boy of about 10 years old and asked him for further directions to the Gouverneur Hospital.

His weary expression and old eyes took her in with both calculation and suspicion.

“Shoe shine five cents,” he said, with a challenge.

Eve took twenty-five cents from her purse and handed it to him.  He took it swiftly, looked down at it and then lifted his eyes to her face.  He didn’t smile.  He glanced about as if afraid someone was hovering in shadow, waiting to pounce on him.  When he spoke, his voice was low and hoarse.

“Gouverneur Slip and Water Street at the East River.  It’s a bit of a walk.”

Eve thanked him and started off.  The sun was out now and the snow had quickly vanished, as if some artist had changed her mind and blotted it out, adding yellow beams of sunlight instead. 

Twenty-five minutes later, she saw the hospital, a new three-story, red-brick building.  Three young boys were playing stick ball in the street, and the hospital was surrounded by market wagons that blocked the ambulance access.  That wasn’t a good sign, Eve thought.  She spotted a one-legged man on crutches, wearing a tattered Union Army uniform, moving toward the entrance.  She followed.

Inside, Eve strolled along the highly polished floor, past an elderly couple who sat hunched on wooden chairs, staring into the void with wrinkled faces and a dull acceptance.  Eve had seen faces like that when she’d worked for a time in the ER.  Grief and loss are timeless, she thought, only the clothes are different.

Eve stepped over to a long oak lobby desk.  A thin woman, wearing a white smock and spectacles, was shifting through some papers.  Her gray hair was pulled back tightly into a bun, and when she lifted her head from a stack of papers, Eve noticed her placid handsome face was pock marked.  From her medical training, Eve recalled that smallpox had been prevalent in the 1800s, although she couldn’t recall what years. 

The woman’s gray/blue eyes were kind.  She greeted Eve with a soft, friendly smile.  To Eve, who had been in this time of 1885 only four days—although it seemed like weeks—this woman’s smile was the most open and welcoming smile she’d received from anyone thus far.  There was no suspicion or confusion in this smile.

“Good afternoon,” Eve said, softly, “I am looking for someone who may be in the women’s tubercular ward.  Her name is Evelyn Sharland.”

The woman held her smile.  “Are you a relative?”

Eve hesitated.  She was a relative, but if Evelyn was here, Eve didn’t want her to know it, at least not yet.  “No, I’m a friend.”

“I see,” the woman said, reaching to her left for a folder.  She opened it and flipped through some papers until she found what she was looking for.  She used her index finger to slide down the page.

While she waited in happy impatience, Eve considered a range of possible introductory phrases she could use on Evelyn when they finally met.  Eve grew excited at the possibility that not only was she close to seeing her distant relative, but she was also about to see the recipient of John Allister Harringshaw’s Christmas Eve letter.  A very touching letter.  A heartfelt and heartbreaking letter.  A tragic letter that Evelyn had never seen.  The letter that John Allister had not yet written.

Eve felt some of the tension leave her body as she stood there, feeling strangely at ease in the place, as she often did working in hospitals and clinics in her own time. This hospital had a good atmosphere about it, maybe because it actually employed a woman surgeon or maybe because of the people who worked there.  Dedicated doctors and nurses, who had a true calling to heal, made all the difference in a place.  Eve had witnessed miracles of healing by nurses who cared and by doctors who listened.

Oddly enough, this hospital seemed like a little oasis in the midst of so much ignorance and suffering.  It was as though Eve was finally wakening up to the reality of the world in 1885—this bare-knuckle world before child labor laws, or women’s right to vote, or antibiotics; this world where men held absolute power; where children lived in the streets and slept in hay barges on the East River; where there were no social safety nets.

Eve also awakened to the grim reality of what Evelyn was facing: she was facing an almost certain death, alone.  A very awful and terrible death. 

Eve felt a pang of guilt and she looked down, disappointed in herself.  Standing here in this welcoming hospital, she suddenly realized that her priorities had been all wrong.  Instead of searching for Evelyn so she could locate the lantern and return to her own time, even if that were possible, Eve should be focusing solely on finding Evelyn to try to save her life.  After all, wasn’t Eve a nurse, a healer?  Hadn’t she felt called to that work ever since she was in high school?

The woman behind the desk raised her eyes.  “I’m sorry, Evelyn Sharland has not been admitted here.”

Eve sighed, feeling hope drain from her. 

The woman stared with compassion.  “Have you tried some of the Catholic Institutions?”

“I’m from out of town.  I don’t know about them.”

The woman took a piece of paper and a pencil and began to write them down. 

“There’s the House of the Good Shepherd and the House of the Holy Family.  Even if your friend is not there, perhaps she has been there or has had friends who might know where she went.  I know it is an off-chance, but it might be worthwhile investigating.”

She finished writing and handed the paper to Eve.

Eve took it, smiling warmly.  “You have been very kind.  Thank you.”

“I hope you find her.  I’m sure your friendship means a lot to her.”

Eve was so grateful for this woman’s genuine concern.  On an impulse, she asked a question.

“Are you from here?”

“No, I am from Newburgh, New York.”

“Are you a nurse?”

The woman’s eyes were serene and intelligent.  “No.  I’m a doctor.  I’m filling in for the receptionist, who is on a 20-minute break.”

Eve stared, dumbly.  “Oh, I didn’t know.”

“You weren’t aware that there are female doctors?”

“Yes, I have heard about you.  You’re the surgeon?”

“Yes.”

“I’m sorry,” Eve said.

“No need to be.” The doctor extended her hand.  “I’m Dr. Long.  Ann Long.  And I am, as they say in the newspapers, the first female ambulance surgeon.  When we first opened this hospital, it was solely for the purpose of treating accident cases.  We have since expanded to include a ward for patients with tuberculosis, and unfortunately, we are overwhelmed and low on good staff.”

Eve shook Dr. Long’s hand and she was struck by an exciting thought.  If Detective Sergeant Gantly did manage to get her a diploma, she would return and ask Dr. Long for a job.  This is where she wanted to work.

“Thank you, Dr. Long, for everything.”

“May I ask your name?” Dr. Long asked.

“Eve Kennedy.”

They briefly shook hands.

Outside the hospital, Eve searched for the EL train.  It was time to return to Helen Price’s home, and Eve dreaded it.  Helen would certainly be glad to see her go, but what would Albert Harringshaw say?  As Eve started for the train, she hoped and prayed he would not be at the house when she returned.

CHAPTER 17

At 5:30, Eve and Helen Price were in the parlor, Eve seated on an upholstered chair and Helen opposite her on a red velvet settee.  The fire crackled, the grandfather clock ticked loudly, and both women were sipping tea that Millie had carried in.  Helen was fidgety and edgy.  Eve had forced a calm demeanor.

“It would simply be rude for you to leave before Mr. Harringshaw arrives at six,” Helen said, in a troubled voice, avoiding Eve’s face.  “He will blame me for being selfish and inhospitable and I do not wish to incur his displeasure in that regard.  You must admit that he has been sufficiently kind and generous to you, Miss Kennedy.  I would think that you owe him the benefit of conveying to him, in person, what your future plans are and where your living quarters are situated.  Surely, you see that that is the correct and polite thing to do.”

Eve breathed in nerves, resigned.  “If you think it is best, Miss Price, then I will wait, although I am sure Mr. Harringshaw is not that interested in my plans.  He was just being a gentleman to a down-and-out woman.”

Eve was purposely playing down Albert’s attraction, for Helen’s sake.  But Helen’s face twisted up in displeasure and her jaw stiffened.

They sat in an awkward silence, as their teacups rattled on their saucers and the fire hissed.

“As I mentioned earlier,” Eve said, “I’ll return the dresses just as soon as I can have new ones made.”

Helen flicked at the air with her free hand.  “There is no need to return them, Miss Kennedy.  I have no need of them.  Mr. Harringshaw had them made for my sister and I’d prefer we not even mention the subject to Mr. Harringshaw.”

Eve saw the anger flare up in Helen’s face, and then she knew.  Albert Harringshaw must have flirted with Helen’s sister as well, and maybe he’d accomplished more than just a flirtation.  Eve wasn’t interested in that story, surely a painful one for Helen and, from Helen’s snarly glance, she didn’t want to know.  Since Helen’s sister no longer lived in the house, something “uncomfortable” must have happened.

Once again, Eve felt compassion for Helen.  She was a woman trapped, in a sense.  Her life was at the mercy and whim of Albert Harringshaw.  He was in total control of the relationship.  He could come and go as he pleased, and he could see and make love to any woman he chose, and there was nothing Helen could do about it, at least she didn’t think so.  After all, she lived in a grand house with servants, wore fine clothes, ate the best food, spent nights at the theatre and dined at the finest restaurants. 

Obviously, she had put up with a lot to keep her lavish lifestyle, and she was choosing to continue.  But what would happen when she lost her sexy, hour-glass figure and pretty face?  Surely, Albert Harringshaw would drop her like yesterday’s fashion.

And so they sat in an extended, awkward silence.

Millie returned once to see if Miss Price needed anything, but Helen waved her away without a glance.  Just before Millie exited through the side door, she turned to Eve, flashed a quick, covert smile and disappeared.

When the front door bell rang, both women flinched.  Eve saw Helen draw an uneasy breath.  Eve laid her teacup aside and stood, waiting for Albert Harringshaw to make his appearance. 

Millie was at the front door in a minute, and opened it.  Albert Harringshaw entered.  He greeted Millie and handed her his silk hat, fur collared coat, gloves and cane.  He stroked either side of his mustache with a finger, squared his shoulders and entered the parlor. 

Both women were standing, Helen’s face set in hope of affectionate attention and Eve’s forcing a tight little smile.  She was fighting a mounting hostility for the man.

“Well, well, isn’t this a pleasant sight?  Two lovely ladies waiting for me in this attractive and cozy parlor at the end of a long and devilishly busy day.”

Albert gave a gentlemanly bow to both ladies but his eyes went to Eve.  They were alive with secret interest.

Helen’s face fell as she followed his gaze. 

“Miss Kennedy, you look very well.  The good Dr. Eckland tells me you are much improved.”

“Yes, Mr. Harringshaw, I am feeling so much better, thank you.”

“I am glad to hear it.”

He turned to Helen.  “And you Miss Price, are you well?”

Helen brightened a little.  “Yes, Mr. Harringshaw, I am very well.”

He stood erect, posing.  “I am wearing a new suit.  The tailor is quite in demand these days.  How do you like it?”

Eve quickly studied Albert’s suit.  It fit him to handsome perfection.  There was an extremely narrow lapel on the rich woolen jacket, with a high button front, and a ruby stud in his stiff white shirt.  His trousers were tailored to a slimmer style, and there was no crease.  Eve supposed that was by design.  His jacket was buttoned only at the top, allowing him to proudly display his purple silk vest and glistening watch chain.

Helen spoke up first.  “It fits you to perfection, Mr. Harringshaw.”

He looked toward Eve, who wanted to tell him that his ego was as big as the Empire State Building, but of course the great building hadn’t been built yet, so she nodded a smile instead.

“It is a fine-looking suit, Mr. Harringshaw.”

He waited for more, but Eve didn’t offer more.

In melting disappointment, he turned from her and clasped his hands together, undaunted.  “I was on Broadway today and it was clogged with the usual carriages, the victorias, landaus, broughams, and coupes, and all along its sidewalks, promenading in endless procession, were elegantly attired women.  In that attractive throng, whom do you think I saw?”

He swung his attention back to Eve.  “I saw you, Miss Kennedy.”

Eve was immediately suspicious.  She wondered if Detective Sergeant Gantly had followed her and then told Albert Harringshaw.  It was his job, after all, but it still disappointed her.

“Oh, yes,” Eve said, forcing a cheerful tone.  “I did go shopping.”

“And were you successful?” Mr. Harringshaw asked.

“I am afraid not.  I will have to return.”

Albert’s eyes widened in delight.  “And return you shall, Miss Kennedy.  The three of us shall sally forth together say, tomorrow, and this time you will be successful.  I will insist on it and I guarantee it.  We will find the finest silks and velvets for you; the most fashionable bonnets.” 

Helen looked down and away. 

Eve spoke up quickly.  “Thank you, Mr. Harringshaw, for all your many generosities, but I am afraid I must decline.  You see I am moving out of the house.  Miss Price has been so kind and generous, but I think it is time I leave and make my own way.  I have found a clean boarding house in Gramercy Park.  From there, I will spend the next few days getting settled and looking for work.”