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

Doctor Kelley laughed quietly. “You know me well. I generally do have an opinion. But, it seems, so does your wife. I do not want my view to cloud your discussion. Shall I leave you together to speak?”

Now Isabelle interrupted. “Doctor, I don’t believe your leaving is necessary. I do, in fact, have an opinion as well, and I do not mind expressing it while you are in the room.” She filled her lungs with air, looked at Alexander, and said, “As you insist on placing more emphasis on my healing than your own, I shall say only that your tender attention on my behalf is better, thousands of times better, than any care I can imagine. Your nearness brings strength to my wounds and allows me desire to heal. As far as your healing goes, I do not see that any of the improvement you experience is directly related to Nurse Margaret’s soulless ministrations, and I do not like Doctor Fredericks.”

In the silence following her pronouncement, Isabelle wondered if she had been unwise. Perhaps she should have been more delicate. Perhaps she had offended Doctor Kelley, who’d so kindly recommended the pioneering therapies of Doctor Fredericks. Perhaps—her contemplations were cut off by an unexpected sound: masculine laughter. Both Alexander and Doctor Kelley were laughing.

“When you say you have an opinion, my dear,” Doctor Kelley said, “you mean it.”

Alexander looked at Isabelle, an arch in his eyebrow reflecting his former look of casual confidence that surely made all the young women working at the mill swoon. His partial smile brought a flush to Isabelle’s cheek. “While you are boldly speaking your mind,” he said, “is there anything else you would like to say?”

Would she ever have another chance like this? The presence of Doctor Kelley made her feel far braver than she would feel were she alone with Alexander.

She nodded. “In fact, there is. I should like to say that you are remarkable.”

The look of surprise on Alexander’s face told her that this was not what he had expected to hear.

She continued. “The pain and agony you’ve gone through in the past months is more than I, more than anyone, could begin to imagine.”

She saw him look away and worried that he did not wish to hear what she felt compelled to say, but she had begun and knew she must carry on. “And now you desire to make a change.”

Sitting still was impossible. She shifted closer to the edge of her chair. “I recognize that your incremental progress must be a constant frustration to you. Any shift in medical practice must feel like a hope at which you must grasp. You speak of entering an institution to aid your recovery, but I do not see that the kind of care Doctor Fredericks gives you is healing your body or assisting your heart.”

Isabelle found her hands twisting the skirts she wore, kneading the fabric into knots. She released the cloth. “Were it up to me, you would remain here, or we would remove to Wellsgate, and I would be your nurse. I know I am not currently qualified, but I can learn.”

She didn’t take her eyes from Alexander’s, and although he looked amazed, he did not attempt to interrupt. “I know, however, that it is not up to me. You must decide. You must be able to choose what kind of care you receive.”

Isabelle stood, walked the few steps across the room to Alexander’s chair, and knelt in front of him. She took his hands in her bandaged ones and, looking into his face, said, “I ask you to consider allowing me to provide that care. I ask you to choose me. I know our marriage was an arrangement that profited your mill, but I hope it can also profit your heart.”

She pressed his hands more tightly, hardly feeling the throb of pain radiating from her wounds. “I realize you have been attempting to shield me from the discomfort of our present situation. I understand now that when you send me away, it is for my protection. Please,” she said, a tremble in her voice, “do not send me away any longer. Allow me to be here with you.”

She looked down at their clasped hands and then back up at Alexander’s face. “Were it my decision to make, I would be your nurse. I would be your wife. I would be your friend. I ask you to allow me to be all of these.”

She felt his fingers tighten on her own, filling her with hope.

Alexander spoke in a whisper. “Can you mean it? Can you be willing?”

“It is,” she said, a tear spilling from her eye, “my greatest wish.”

Alexander closed his eyes, smiled, and released a breath that sounded as though it had unfettered and released all his collected agony. “This is not the life I promised to you,” he said.

“But it is the one I choose.”

“Isabelle,” he whispered, and she shivered at hearing her name in his voice. “There is much I cannot do. For instance,” he said, now smiling at her, “I should very much like to hold you near and place a kiss upon your beautiful cheek.”

“That is a difficulty,” she said, “that I believe we can overcome.”

Leaning nearer his face, she allowed her blistered and burned cheek to meet his lips. With his tender kiss, she felt a pull toward him that she had never before experienced. She was drawn to be near him, body and heart and mind.

She pulled his hands to her own mouth and kissed his palm. It was not enough.

Upon her knees, she placed her bandage-covered hands upon his shoulders. She pulled herself upward to bring her mouth near his. She felt his breath catch as their gazes connected. Desire filled his eyes, granting a striking depth to his features she’d never before noticed. Every muscle, every nerve in her body ignited with the need to share this moment of connection with