Isabelle and Alexander, Rebecca Anderson [nonfiction book recommendations .TXT] 📗

“That’s the best part of the arrangement, you see. God doesn’t seem to mind overmuch how well you feel you’re doing it. He simply likes to hear from you now and again.”

Isabelle nodded and mumbled a recitation from her childhood. When she was finished, she hoped it had comforted the doctor. Surprised to find that it had also given her a measure of peace, she continued to repeat the words in her mind.

She stared into the flame of the lamp, watching the flickering. In a moment, her attention was pulled back to the doctor when his tone changed.

“Ah, so there you are. Waking up now, are you?” The doctor again took Alexander by the hand, and the younger man’s eyes became riveted on Doctor Kelley’s face.

Opening his mouth, he moved his lips without making any sound. The wild and frightened look came back to his eyes, and Isabelle took a step back. She now realized his fear was not necessarily attached to the sight of her, but she didn’t want to see that fear become more pronounced when he looked in her direction.

“Give my hand a squeeze, won’t you?” the doctor said, holding Alexander’s unresponsive fingers in his own. Isabelle could not see any movement.

Alexander opened and closed his mouth again without making a noise.

The doctor laid Alexander’s hand back on the blanket. “Now, that’s a good lad. Don’t feel like you have to push too hard right at the first moment.” He continued to speak soft words until Alexander’s eyes closed again.

Isabelle felt herself exhale a breath she was unaware she’d been holding.

In the same encouraging voice, Doctor Kelley said, “I am not sure he’s not still listening. Our Alec might well be taking in all that we say.” He motioned to Isabelle, and the two of them stepped into the hallway.

Yeardley stood stiff and still in the darkened hall. The doctor asked him to stand beside Mr. Osgood for a moment. Yeardley gave a nod and glanced wordlessly at Isabelle, trying to summon a smile.

She tried the same.

Unable to form any of her questions into words, Isabelle waited for the doctor to speak. He took her hands in his.

“Are you ready to hear?” he asked.

She nodded, hoping it was true.

“There is much to be pleased about.”

“Then why do you look so somber?” she asked. Immedi­ately, she shook her head. “No, I am sorry. Please. Tell me.”

“Waking. It’s a small miracle and a large step forward. Wasn’t sure we’d see it happen so soon, or at all, truth to tell. He seemed to recognize me, or at least his confusion and fear seemed to abate while I spoke to him.”

Isabelle nodded, grateful she’d stayed back in the shadows. She was in no way prepared to see that confusion and fear return to Alexander’s eyes at the sight of her.

“But there is a long list of unknowns, and it’s perhaps best if we lay down some of the questions I have now, at the beginning.”

“Please,” she said. After the word left her lips, she thought of many ways to continue that thought.

Please, tell me what you think is happening.

Please, let him be all right.

Please, make him remember me more fondly.

“His eyes moved about the room, but that was all the movement of which he seemed capable. Perhaps you’ve noticed that he was unable to grip your fingers?”

Isabelle had noticed, but she assumed it was because he was sleeping. Surely now that he’d awakened, he would respond.

“It gives me a bit of concern that he neither moved his fingers nor turned his head.”

Waiting for the doctor to elaborate, Isabelle found her mind filled with possible reasons Alexander wasn’t responding, none of them comforting.

When the doctor didn’t say more, Isabelle asked, “Why the concern?” Her voice emerged crackling like a spark.

“When you described the place in which he fell, I worried about injury to his bones, but now I fear a possible wound in his spine.”

She shook her head. “I don’t understand.”

He pressed her hands between his own. “There is a possibility he won’t regain his motion.”

She wasn’t sure she’d heard him correctly. “He won’t be able to move? Is that what you’re saying?”

The doctor cleared his throat. He looked so tired. “It’s a possibility.”

Isabelle felt a fire of anger ignite in her heart. How dare he say such a thing? “Well, there’s a possibility he’ll die in the night, as well. We might as well state that also, since we’re naming all the possibilities.”

As soon as the words were out of her mouth, she registered what she had said. Her anger surprised her, as did the volume of her response. Her hands flew to her mouth. “Oh, doctor. I beg your pardon.”

He simply nodded. “Of course, my dear. Of course.”

Isabelle forced herself to appear calm. Humiliation at her outburst combined with fear, exhaustion, and terror of the unknown to make her feel physically weak.

“I did not mean to say those words,” she said, her voice trembling. “Pray do not take offense.”

“Not at all, my dear lady, not at all.” He patted her arm. “Perhaps you noted the look on his face? Something resembling a fright?”

“That is one way to describe it,” Isabelle said.

Doctor Kelley nodded. “I can imagine his inability to turn his head or lift his arm or speak a word might have alarmed him.”

Was it possible that his distress had not been from seeing her? She wished to enfold this good doctor in her arms and weep at the relief.

Instead she asked, “What else do you think I ought to know?”

Doctor Kelley shook his head. “That’s quite enough to be getting on with.”

“I don’t want to sound as though I don’t trust you, Doctor, but do you think we should move him to the city? For care, I mean?”

“Mrs. Osgood, there will be many questions of care that arise over the next few days. For tonight,” he glanced toward the window, where the sky was beginning to lighten to blue, “for this morning, rather,