Lake in the Clouds

  Manny said, “He’s been like that since Friday night.”

  Hannah went to the older woman and hunched down next to her. “What’s his name?”

  “Thibault.” She had a whispery voice, as if it had once been broken and never quite recovered.

  “And yours?”

  “Folks call me Belle.” She put down the dipper and used a piece of rag to wipe the man’s chin.

  “Have you been with him the whole time?”

  She shook her head. “On and off since they fetched him here late Friday. There ain’t much I could do for him, but I don’t like to be the last word.”

  With both hands the old lady lifted Thibault’s head to turn it. There was a depression in his skull just behind the ear, as long as Hannah’s hand and three fingers wide.

  “A club?”

  “Hickory,” said a voice behind her, heavy with the accent of the French islands. “A hickory club as long as a man’s arm.”

  Hannah put her ear to Thibault’s chest to listen to his heart, not that it would make any difference. Inside this man’s skull the brain was swollen and bleeding, pressing on bone until it exhausted itself. Beneath her ear she heard the evidence, a heart once strong whose beat was faltering, thready and irregular.

  When she sat back on her heels Belle turned her face toward the darkest corner of the room where a young man stood, stone-faced and unblinking.

  “Fetch that light down here, Dandre, will you please.”

  “Let me.” Manny came forward to do as she asked.

  “Hold it close, now. Let it shine on his face.”

  It was a striking face, not so much for the strong features or the well-formed mouth but for the look of peacefulness. The old lady lifted one eyelid with a splayed thumb and there was the evidence that could not be denied: in the flickering of the lamplight the pupil stayed as dark and round as a tarnished copper penny.

  “Gone?” The old woman had turned her face and Hannah realized now why they had fetched her from the hospital. Not because they didn’t trust Belle, but because the old woman did not trust her own eyes, which were covered with a pale film.

  “Gone,” said Hannah. “No reaction to the light.”

  Belle eased the man’s head back down as gently as an egg. “Eyes gone, the spirit gone too. The rest of him just don’t realize it yet. He was a good man, Thibault, but he as mulish in the other world as he was in this one.”

  Hannah caught Manny’s gaze and nodded her agreement.

  He drew in a shuddering breath. When he let it out again he said, “How long?”

  “A day at the most, if you stop giving him water. Perhaps no more than an hour.”

  The young man Belle had called Dandre came out of his corner. In the dim light Hannah recognized him as another one of Madame du Rocher’s missing slaves, one she had met in the kitchen, deep in conversation with Mrs. Douglas. A good-looking young man with hair shaved close to the skull and large eyes the color of molasses cut with honey. Now his face was swollen and his lower lip mangled, but it was his expression that shocked, the burning fury of him. He took the dipper out of Belle’s hand and threw it against the wall with all his strength, and then he stood hunched forward, his whole body shaking with sobs.

  Hannah felt Manny’s hand on her shoulder. She followed him back to the first room.

  “I’m sorry,” she said finally. And when he could not find anything to say, Hannah put a hand on his sleeve.

  “What will happen to them?”

  He blinked at her as if he were waking out of a deep sleep. “They’ll be gone tonight.”

  “And you with them?”

  He nodded.

  “Will you be taking them north?”

  His head came up and he looked at her hard, his eyes bright and dry. “You know better than to ask questions like that.”

  Hannah stepped back from him, surprise and hurt pushing aside those things she had wanted to say to him, the things she knew that Curiosity would say if she were here.

  He said, “I need another favor from you.” From his jerkin he took a piece of folded paper. It appeared to be from a newspaper, but in the dusty dim light of the basement Hannah could not make out much about it.

  “There’s a child I’m looking for. She may be in the poor-house someplace, or they may have placed her out. Or maybe she’s dead. One way or the other I want to know. This is all the information I have.” He took Hannah’s hand and closed her fingers over the paper, squeezed tight.

  “I’m not sure that I can—”

  He cut her off with a shake of his head. “If you can get a look at the record books you might be able to find some mention of her. You know where they keep the records?”

  Hannah thought of Mrs. Sloo waddling her way past Mr. Eddy’s office. An exacting man, our Mr. Eddy, tolerates no sloppiness. Keeps track of the comings and goings. The orphans mostly. A powerful lot of work, and paper enough to bury a man standing.

  And Mr. Eddy himself, the pale oval face and colorless eyes, the way he looked at her when she passed him in the halls. What would he do if he found her in his office among his papers? But Manny was waiting for her to say something, and Hannah could not deny him this, not out of hand.

  “And if I find some record of the child?”

  The question surprised him, she saw that in the way his shoulders stiffened. “I don’t think you will, to tell the truth. I been looking for her a long time now. The only way to make sure is to get into that office and I never have been able to get that far. I’m hoping you’ll have better luck.”

  “Manny,” Hannah said, lowering her voice. “Who is this child? Is she … yours?”

  “She’s Selah’s,” Manny said. “That makes her mine too. If you can get to the records I’d be thankful. If you can’t do it without putting yourself in danger, then let it be.”

  “And if I do find her after all?”

  “Then bring her to my ma and pa. Now you best get along, it’s almost four. If you see my folks before I do—”

  Hannah made a protesting sound, but he ignored her.

  “You tell them what you saw here today, and that I’m on my way home, as soon as these folks are safe.”

  “Is there such a thing as safe for them? For you?”

  Even as the words escaped her Hannah regretted them, but to her surprise it earned her a smile, one that took her back unexpectedly to her childhood and the boy Manny had been. It was Manny who first showed her how to bait her fishing hook and taught her how to whistle like a poor-will; in return he had called on her when he needed help to play a trick on his sisters. It was a gentle smile, without worry or anger.

  “There is indeed,” he said softly. “In one kind of Paradise or the other. You best get going now, Jean is waiting to show you the way.”

  MAY 12, 1802. EVENING.

  Heavy rain for most of the day. This morning there were four eggs in the sparrow’s nest on my windowsill.

  Three letters by the afternoon post. One from Curiosity, with news of home but no word of the voyager. The second letter was from Captain Lewis, with greetings from the president and a list of questions to be answered regarding vaccination on the frontier. To this he added a personal note and wishes for my good health and an uneventful journey home. The last letter was from my brother Luke, with news of the earl’s death. He lived a long and honorable life and he will be remembered for his bravery and wisdom. Young Alasdair is now the new earl of Carryck. Luke writes also that Jennet is to be married to the factor Ewan Huntar, as her father wished. I expect I will hear more of this from her in tones very different from my brother’s.

  Madame du Rocher has left this city in the dead of night. Only one of her slaves had been returned to her. The rest are gone away for good and good, says Mrs. Douglas. May she be right.

  MAY 14, 1802. EVENING.

  Today Mrs. Graham, who had been away visiting a married daughter in Boston, came and spent all day in the wards. She divided her time between reading the
bible to people who speak no English and generally getting in the way. My only conversation with her was very brief, as I did not wish to be interviewed on the state of my everlasting soul. She is supposed to be a very good and generous lady but the tribute she demands for her charity is very high indeed.

  Dr. Simon took pity on me finally and asked me to assist him at the hospital. There we saw the interesting case of a young woman with a blockage of the urethra, which we were able to clear. Whether it will come again or not is a question that can’t be answered, unless it were possible to look inside her living body.

  MAY 15. EVENING.

  Beautiful warm weather and a high wind to wash away the stink of the city. Today an Irish orphan boy of about five years bit Dr. Savard hard enough to draw blood. His face went very pale but he made no sound of protest or pain, and neither did he let the boy go until he had finished treating a burn on his ankle. Later when I asked if he wished me to tend to the bite wound he gave me such a fierce look that I was taken aback.

  Six new vaccinations this morning.

  At three in the afternoon Blue Harry slipped into a final sleep and died quietly. Mr. Magee is very sad at the loss of an old friend.

  Spent an hour in the nursery in the morning and another in the afternoon. Dr. Simon knows where I go when he cannot find me. He makes no comment at all.

  MAY 16. EVENING.

  Today a letter from Curiosity. No news of my father and Elizabeth, but Friend Gabriel Oak is at peace and laid to rest. Dr. Todd conducted the autopsy and Curiosity was present. She reports the lungs much ulcerated and wasted away, as expected.

  In Paradise the flax and barley and rye have been set in the fields along the river. At Lake in the Clouds the women will be planting corn.

  Today I treated a young woman who had been badly beaten, ribs cracked and a gash on her face that I closed with six stitches. It will leave a scar in the shape of a sickle that curves away from her mouth. She is the fourth woman who has come to us in such a state since my time here. When I asked if she had no other way to earn her bread than to sell her body she said she is well paid for her bruises and expects nothing else.

  What a hard place is this city for women especially. Dr. Savard claims that most of the women who make a living this way—and there are legions of them—will not see thirty years. Disease and violent injury kill most, but a good number freeze to death every winter for want of a simple fire.

  MAY 20. EVENING.

  Clear and warm with a cool breeze. By all accounts, Almanzo Freeman is no longer in New-York City. May his journey be an easy one.

  Examined five vaccination subjects and extracted virus from one. Assisted Dr. Simon and Dr. Scofeld with the amputation of a gangrenous leg below the knee. Patient is a boy who either speaks no English or does not wish to speak. He has been recorded in Mr. Eddy’s record book as John Smith 24.

  Mr. Matthias Greenaway, who is the Master of Scavangers and a member of the city council, underwent surgery to remove cataracts this afternoon in his own home on Park Avenue. Dr. Simon invited me to observe. Mr. Greenaway was given enough opium to render him insensible and then he was tied securely to a table with straps across his forehead, shoulders, waist, hips, knees, and feet. Dr. Ellingham performed the surgery with assistance from three others. Corneal incision near the limbus was made by puncture with a sharp curved needle, enlarged to both sides with a blunt curved needle and then with a curved scissors. A flat instrument of about a finger’s width was then put into the eye by an assisting doctor, and while it held the cornea away from the lens, Dr. Ellingham used a sharp needle to open the capsule. Next the instrument was passed between the iris and lens to free adhesions. Finally Dr. Ellingham exerted gentle pressure to dislodge the cataract. The operation was then carried out on the other eye. The whole undertaking was handled with great speed.

  My grandmother Falling-Day was distrustful of O’seronni doctors who were so eager to cut into the body with their knives, but even she must see the miracle of this. To bring light where darkness has fallen, what greater service can a healer provide?

  Every day I feel my grandmother near me and sometimes I feel her disappointment to see me put aside her gentle medicines for harsh O’seronni ones. Sometimes I ask her if I cannot have them both, but there is never any answer.

  I will speak to Dr. Todd and see whether or not it might be advisable to suggest such an operation to Galileo Freeman.

  Today marks one full month since we came to the city. By my records I have performed more than thirty vaccinations and retrieved viral material from almost as many. I have seen a great many surgeries, five autopsies, and assisted in sixteen births. In the time I have been assisting in the Almshouse I have seen forty-seven deaths, more than half of those infants or children less than two years.

  Many of the fruit trees along the Broad Way are in blossom. Today I saw a woodpecker in Bowling Green. I was taken by such a strong homesickness that it was some time before I could speak.

  Another letter from Captain Lewis, repeating much of what was said before as if he forgot that he had already written. A letter from Curiosity. No news of my father or stepmother or of the voyager.

  JUNE 1. LATE AFTERNOON.

  Examined ten vaccination subjects and retrieved virus material from three. Six new vaccinations, four children and two young men. Dr. Simon says that I am now proficient in all stages of the Jenner method. He has written to Dr. Todd to tell him that my education in this matter is complete enough to send me back to Paradise.

  In one week we depart this city for home. On that day I will vaccinate Ethan so that by the time we reach Paradise I will be able to retrieve fresh virus from him in Dr. Todd’s presence. I will also take vaccination material with me should Ethan’s attempt fail.

  Dr. Simon has asked me to continue to assist in the wards and vaccination office until we depart the city. I would not know what to do with myself if I had no work, and so I accepted. According to my records I have seen patients with abscess, aneurism, arrhythmia, as-cites, childbed fever, cholera morbus, contusion, cataract, cancer, dyspepsia, dysentery, dislocations, epilepsy, fevers, fractures, gonorrhea, hoemoptoe, hernia, ophthalmia, palsy, pthisis pulmonalis, scarlatina, and wounds.

  A new patient was brought into the wards by the constables who found him in the street, robbed and insensible. Aged about fifty years, from the condition of his hands a mason or bricklayer by profession. Dr. Simon’s diagnosis is of the terminal stage of the disease called morbi venerei but referred to by the doctors here as syphilis and by the patients as the French disease or French pox. The patient’s symptoms include a large protrusion on the left shoulder which is an advanced aneurism of the aorta, highly irregular heartbeat, blindness, loss of reason, and extreme ulceration of the nose and legs. I have seen this disease in many guises since working in the Almshouse and yet Dr. Simon is reluctant to speak to me about it. He prefers to think me innocent not only in deed but also in my knowledge of what passes between men and women.

  Dr. Savard was less concerned with my unmarried status and proved willing to discuss the case, though I fear that his talkativeness had a great deal to do with the bottle of brandy he keeps in the bottom drawer of a cabinet in the kine-pox office. He copied a passage for me from Morgagni regarding death due to aneurism.

  Today Kitty lost consciousness for close to an hour. Upon waking she asked to be bled again. She speaks of staying on here for the rest of the summer so she might continue in Dr. Ehrlich’s care.

  I must still write my weekly report to Dr. Todd, and this time I will speak more bluntly about his wife’s poor condition. He will receive my letter with hers, and what a contrast that will be. Kitty speaks and writes only of amusements and shopping, though it seems to me that there is a growing desperation about her.

  Chapter 27

  At ten to three o’clock on the last Saturday she would spend in the Almshouse, Hannah sat at the desk in the Kine-Pox Institution office with a piece of paper before her and a
newly sharpened quill in her hand. She read the words she had written once again.

  My assistance is required here for another few hours at least. One of the doctors will see me safely back to Whitehall Street when my work is done.

  All week Hannah had been consumed by this moment and it came to these few dozen words. She was taken by the sudden and almost irresistible urge to tear up the note and write another one.

  Dear Will and Amanda—

  If I am not with you by ten this evening, you will most probably find me in gaol for breaking into Mr. Eddy’s records office in an attempt to find information about a lost child. I undertake this offense against the Almshouse of my own free will, and if I should end up before the magistrates I will have all the comfort of knowing that while I have brought notoriety to you and myself I was fulfilling a promise to a friend.

  Instead she put down her quill, folded the note she had written, and wrote out the directions on its face. If all went well she might one day be able to tell Will about all of this, why she had deceived him and to what end.

  From the pocket of her work apron she took another piece of paper, this one soft with handling. She had read it so many times since Manny gave it to her that she hardly needed to look at it and yet she did, because it was the only place she could turn for assurance that what she was about to do was good and right.

  She wished for her grandmother Falling-Day or for Many-Doves. From her grandmother she had heard every day what she owed to herself and to her clan, what it meant to be Kahnyen’kehàka, what it would take for her to survive in this white world. Every day since her grandmother died Hannah had heard Many-Doves repeat those same words to her own children. Make your own way in your world and in theirs; leave the poison called alcohol to the white men who brought it here; do not get involved in their wars; give them no opportunity to make you their prisoner.