Resurrecting Harry Read online

  Joseph lifted the towels, examined the flesh beneath and applied a clean layer to Erich’s flesh. “It is my hope the heat will not only soften the stitches, but draw out the infection and take the swelling down. If I were you, I’d take advantage of Mrs. Houdini’s offer and use these next few minutes to numb yourself.”

  Erich rolled his head on the pillow and fought all the sensations pounding at him: the intense pain, the memories of dying, Harry’s life philosophy and Jaden’s ominous warning of wrong turns and missteps. “You could never understand what it’s like.”

  Returning to the room, Bess poured from the silver flask into a glass tumbler. “I thought I made myself clear. You’re going to do exactly what Joseph tells you.”

  Through vision blurred from by pain and tears, Erich focused on her face and found concern and pain mixed in equal proportions. He could fight to keep his body pure of alcohol and honor the man he once was, but comforting Bess was more important. He needed to act like a man and give her control. He nodded and tried to lift himself to accept the offered drink.

  Bess supported his neck and placed the glass to his lips. “Not too fast. Just sip.”

  Bitter blackberry fluid hit his tongue, and he struggled against the urge to cough it back up. Joseph poked at Erich’s wound. He was aware of the pain, but somehow Bess’s soft caress made everything else seem distant.

  “Another sip, Erich.” The nurturing look in her eyes as she scanned his face, looking for signs of improvement, touched him in a way nothing else could. With her leaning in so close, he stared at the dark curls framing her cheek and remembered Jaden’s warnings about choices. Harry had made his based on pride and ego. Erich needed to carve a different path if he wanted a better outcome.

  Accepting a third sip, his focus diminished. His limbs grew heavy, and his mind clouded as his body collapsed. Maybe it was too late to make better choices than Harry had. Just maybe he’d already made too many missteps. Or was it a mixture of the brandy and the tea stealing his consciousness?

  He struggled hard to stay alert. He needed this moment in Bess’s arms to sustain him. If Jaden was dissolving their bargain, pulling him back early for some misguided misstep, he’d fight for every last second close to her. He opened his mouth to speak her name, but lost the battle.

  Everything went black.

  ***

  Memories flooded Bess’s mind as Erich’s body collapsed in her arms. She’d cradled Harry in her arms, stroking his hair and kissing his brow, in the same way until his body turned ice-cold. Rage filled her heart, permeating the void her one true love had left behind, and she had cursed God for taking him away.

  Now, looking down at Erich’s limp, lifeless body, those emotions rolled over her again. They ebbed like a tidal wave searching for a shore to crash on, and she doubted she’d be left standing when the full impact hit her. She brushed Erich’s jaw; something she wouldn’t dare do while he was awake, no matter how much he or her heart begged. This illness drew another parallel between him and Harry, and her unexplainable yearning would no longer be denied.

  His flesh still burned with fever, and she guided him down, resting his head on the pillow before going to Joseph’s side. “What can I do?”

  He didn’t look up and continued cutting away the old stitches. “I need no assistance. He needs you to take the wet clothes off of his body and wash him down with cool water.”

  Bess blinked. There was no way that she’d just heard Joseph right. For a man of medicine, one human form might resemble another, but for her, nothing could be further from the truth. At least her feelings for Erich weren’t as obvious as if she’d advertised them like the kid with the sandwich board outside the dime store. Joseph wouldn’t have asked her to undress Erich if they were.

  Still, it needed to be done. Bess picked up a clean washcloth from the nightstand and dipped it into the ice water. She began with his forehead then slid it down to his cheeks and neck. She returned the cloth to the ice water and then wiped it over his hair, following with her fingers.

  This isn’t Harry. She repeated to herself over and again. It will end differently. Erich wouldn’t die on her. Couldn’t.

  “Do you have any sage?”

  Joseph’s odd question pulled Bess out of her thoughts. “Sage? Yes, but why?”

  A restless spirit resides in these walls. He is tied to you and will not leave by his own choice. If you like, I could try to help him find his peaceful rest, but he is stubborn. I will need the help of burning sage.”

  Bess looked around the room, as if she could see what Joseph felt. Some might think he was a ranting mad man, one who’d drank too much of Martin’s brandy perhaps, but she’d felt what Joseph talked about. Harry’s spirit was tied to her. He was with her, trying to find a way to communicate, just as he’d promised. “No, do not exercise Harry from the house. He may stay as long as he sees fit.”

  “Excuse me, ma’am, but do you make this choice for you or for him?”

  His question was fair, and his point taken. She wanted Harry’s spirit with her, because the idea of him really being gone seemed too much to endure. If she were putting him first, letting him go would be more compassionate.

  “Regardless, for now I want to focus on Erich. When he is well again, we can discuss Harry.” She abandoned the cloth and the ice water and set her focus on pulling the soaked, cotton undershirt from his body.

  Because of the brandy or the fever, his limbs were dead weight. It took all her strength to complete the chore, but one glance at his broad shoulders, firm abs and lean arms and Bess was the one who needed an ice bath. A flush burned her cheeks, and her mouth went dry. The little voice reminding her she needed to nurse him to health was pushed silent by images of those muscular limbs wrapped around her body, holding her tight. She wondered what it would be like to have his long, slender fingers teasing her flesh.

  She missed the way her husband held, comforted and thrilled her most. She shouldn’t be thinking about doing those same things with this virtual stranger: a man who’d breezed into town and her life just a few short days ago and blatantly tried to steal from her. A man who reminded her in many ways of the one true love of her life, but was also just as different.

  “Joseph! Bess!” Martin’s voice called from the bottom of the stairs, pulling Bess back to the moment. She answered his call. A moment later, the sound of his heavy stride on the steps and down the hall announced him to the room.

  He went straight to Bess and brushed his hand against her shoulder. “Oh, thank Heavens. When the maid said Joseph answered a call from you, and then left with his medical bag, I feared you’d taken ill.”

  “She called me to tend to her hired hand,” Joseph said.

  Martin twisted toward his student and then flipped his attention back to Bess. “He’s confused, right? You really called for me, didn’t you?”

  Bess stammered and searched for the right words to explain, but Martin had turned his attention to Erich. Stepping closer to the bed, Martin glanced at his watch as he gripped Erich’s wrist. Taking his pulse, perhaps. “Where do I know him from?”

  “He works for Will at the deli. I offered him room and board in exchange for doing some repairs around the house.”

  Joseph picked up where Bess stopped. “When I got here, he was burning up with fever. Stitches from a surgery were ripped, and the wound infected.”

  “Why didn’t you take him to the hospital?” From the fire in Martin’s eyes, Bess could tell this wasn’t the first time Martin had called Joseph’s judgment into question.

  “He refused, and it wasn’t necessary.” Not giving Martin any of his focus, Joseph continued to go about treating Erich in his own way.

  Martin slipped off his suit jacket and pulled the white cotton gloves from his hands. Joseph had said Martin and Gail had been away from the house. Based on Martin’s fine clothing, she guessed they’d gone into the city to a fancy restaurant or maybe the theater. Glitz and glamor was Martin and Gail’s way.r />
  Guilt pinged inside Bess’s chest that Martin had left Gail’s side and ruined their evening. Nights alone together were too precious not to be savored.

  Especially since Bess wasn’t about to put her faith in medicine this time around, not when it had failed her before. “You should go back to Gail.”

  “Nonsense. I am a doctor and this man needs my help.” Setting the garments on the dresser, Martin went to Erich’s side and lifted the towel. “We must close the incision.”

  “The infection is not gone.” Joseph’s tone stayed level as he took the towel from Martin’s grip and returned it to Erich’s stomach.

  An animalistic sound reverberated from Martin’s throat, and he poked his finger in his student’s face. “You can’t leave an incision open.”

  Joseph glanced up at the other man, but seemed undeterred by Martin’s presence. Stepping between Martin and the bed, Joseph continued his treatment. “If you seal the wound, where will the infection go?”

  Martin grimaced and stepped back to the dresser. Looking at the instruments Joseph had arranged on a white towel, Martin picked up one of the several brown vials, read the label and tossed it back down, shaking his head. “What is all this? Why didn’t you bring my medical bag?”

  “I had no use for it.” For all of Martin’s rage, Joseph stood self-confident and unwavering in his actions.

  Martin’s eye twitched, and his hands clenched and unclenched against his thigh. “I’m not going to argue with you. I’m the doctor here.” To Bess, he said, “I need to take this man to the hospital.”

  Harry died in a hospital. “Joseph says it’s not necessary. Erich is doing better.”

  “Well, since I wasn’t here from the beginning I can’t speak to that, but he’s had a recent surgery and now an infection. And he’s a stranger, one of Will’s strays. I just think it’s best for everyone concerned if we put him in my car and take him to the hospital. Get him out of your way.”

  Joseph said, “He shouldn’t be moved.”

  Martin dug the heel of his boot into the wood floor. “It’s unfair to ask Bess to care for him.”

  Bess closed her eyes and tried to think despite the infantile arguing. These two should be working together to help Erich, not fighting over whose methods were best. “It’s my choice to have Erich here, and my decision if he stays or goes.”

  “He needs more treatment than I can give him here, Bess. He’ll receive better care in the hospital from doctors.” In Martin’s eyes, Bess saw complete sincerity, but a cloud of doubt still hovered. She couldn’t forget how modern medicine had failed her and Harry.

  “Moving him now will only injure him more.” Joseph’s words earned him another death-glare by Martin.

  Martin lunged forward and Bess stepped between them. “I think we should do as Joseph says and leave him. He’s resting comfortably and doing better.”

  Martin placed the back of his hand to Erich’s forehead. “He’s not sleeping. He’s passed out. The fever is still very high.”

  “It’s coming down,” Joseph said.

  “From what? Have you been taking his temperature? Recording your findings? Charting your treatments?”

  “Those are your ways. Erich asked me to treat him in my way. We’ve bathed him, given him fluids, licorice root and thyme to control the pain and fever. I’ve applied heat to the incision, pulled away the old stitches and irrigated the wound. I’ll irrigate it again, and then pack it with a bran poultice.”

  “There is no way I can allow you to pack an open, infected incision with bran.” Martin’s words came through gritted teeth. Bess had no doubt he would physically remove Joseph before allowing that treatment. She stepped forward, took Martin by the arm. “Why don’t we give his ways a chance? What can it hurt?”

  “It could cost this man his life,” Martin said. “These are savage treatments, Bess. They’re not medically proven.”

  “They have worked for centuries among my people.”

  “And those doctors in Detroit,” Bess continued, “with all their proven cures, couldn’t help Harry. Erich’s illness is similar. I have been talking to Joseph, watching him at the hospital. That is why I called him. I think it’s best if we let Joseph finish what he’s started.”

  “This is not the same,” Martin pleaded with Bess, but then flipped his attention to Joseph. “You are taking advantage of a grieving widow who doesn’t understand medicine. She hasn’t had the training I’ve given you. I’ve defended you to my colleagues and the board at the hospital, but I can’t defend this. It goes against my oath to heal. If you don’t tend to this patient the way I’ve taught you, you can pack your things, leave my house and go back to the reservation.”

  “That is fine with me.”

  Martin turned to Bess. “Erich’s life is in the balance, sweetie. You’re really going to leave it in Joseph’s hands?”

  “You can’t promise me you can save him. I put my faith in doctors once before, and they failed me. I can’t make that mistake again.”

  She’d expected shock in Martin’s eyes. No one would have known by the hours she spent volunteering at the hospital that she’d become so distrustful of medicine. What she didn’t expect was the anger.

  “That’s not fair, Bess. You can’t blame the doctors because Harry was a stubborn fool who refused medical treatment until it was too late.”

  Did Martin have point? God knows Harry was tenacious. Erich, too, for that matter. Why was it up to her who treated Erich or where he went?

  Because just like with her Harry, the patient couldn’t speak for himself. Then again, Erich had. He’d said no doctor and no to Martin, but had allowed Joseph to treat him, even followed his prescriptions. “I’m sorry, Martin, but I need to do what Erich would want, and he said no hospitals. I want to give Joseph’s treatments a chance.”

  Martin lowered his gaze. “If he dies in that bed, Bess, don’t come crying to me.” He turned to the dresser and picked up his jacket and gloves. “I want you out of my guest house by tomorrow, Joseph. Your fellowship is over.”

  ***

  Bess straightened the quilt over Erich’s body, running her hands over the fabric, smoothing out the wrinkles, even though she knew that did nothing to help his illness. Joseph had changed his dressings, reapplied the ointment he made from various herbs and plants in her kitchen, and Erich hadn’t stirred a bit. In fact, he remained deathly still, just as he had for the last day. “Wouldn’t you think he’d be waking up by now?”

  Joseph stepped up to her side. Crossing his arms, he studied Erich’s face. “Sleep allows the body to put its full focus on healing. It is good. He is getting well.”

  “He’s not nearly as warm as he was.”

  “Still, the fever has not broken. That is cause for concern.” He paused, studied Erich’s face a little more, before touching his forehead and then stroking his hand and examining his finger nails. “Some licorice root tea is in order.”

  “He can’t drink unless he’s awake.”

  “His body can absorb the fluid without him being awake. Just as you’ve been rubbing ice cubes to his lips to keep him hydrated, we can soak a cloth with the tea. Rubbing his lips and drizzling a few drops at a time will give his body fluid and the healing properties of the licorice root. We should freeze some too. May I have use of your kitchen?”

  “Of course. But I don’t have licorice root. I wouldn’t have known what to do with it before I met you.”

  “I will look through my things that Dr. Cooper had delivered. Hopefully, he had the good sense to send my supplies.” Joseph turned from the room and started down the steps.

  Bess followed. “Why is it that Dr. Cooper and the others at the hospital don’t want to listen to the decades of experience you and those who taught you have? I’ve seen your treatments work.”

  Joseph shook his head and shrugged his shoulders. “There was a time the doctor did have faith in my people’s ways. You remember that he sought me out to treat dear Louise.” />
  Bess watched as Joseph rummaged through the cardboard boxes on her kitchen table. Martin had Joseph’s life at the Cooper estate packed up and delivered to her doorstep that morning. “It was tuberculosis that took Martin’s first wife, wasn’t it?”

  Joseph bowed his head and closed his eyes. A moment later, when he continued his search, she could see those same eyes were glossed with tears. “A cruel illness that slowly and painfully drained the life from a once vibrant flower and generous soul.”

  “I wish I had known her. To hear you and Martin talk, she was lovely.”

  “She would have thought the same of you, Mrs. Houdini. In fact, in some ways, you remind me of her.” He stopped digging in the box, and a smile turned his lips. Pulling up a small jar, he showed it to Bess. “I used to make Louise licorice root tea. It gave her many more good days than she would have had with Dr. Cooper’s treatments.”

  Bess reached out and brushed her hand against his shoulder. “Thank you for sharing these treatments with Erich.”

  He nodded once to her but then shuffled toward her stove. Taking a sauce pan from where it hung on the rack, he filled it with water. “We are all given a calling, Ma’am, a purpose in this life that will be a catalyst for lessons to the soul. Mine is to heal, when possible.”

  Bess watched as he put a few pieces of the dried root in the water and turned the flame on under the pan. “You know so much about all of these treatments. Who taught you? You’re father?”

  Joseph chest heaved with a heavy sigh as he picked a wooden spoon from the drawer and gently stirred the water. “My calling was not his. When I was ten-years-old my mother left me with the healer in our tribe. I would stay with him for days and days and days, watching him caring for the weak and the ill in our tribe. I would spend weeks at a time with only him and his patients. Every now and again I would go spend a few days with my own parents, but from that moment in time that my healing gift was revealed to me, I became my mentor’s son, not my father’s.”