Chapter 3

Oakland, California

Winter 1904

'Goodnight, darling. You'll be good for your grandmama, won't you?'

The little boy fretted as his mother kissed his cheeks, putting his arms out pleadingly for her embrace. She sighed and pulled him close for another warm hug.

'Sweet dreams, George dear.'

As she closed the bedroom door, her mother-in-law approached down the stairs and treated her to a stern frown.

'These late evenings of yours are quite a strain on us, you know, Susan.'

'I know, M'ma,' Susan replied, picking up her handbag from the hall table. 'David made me promise to go as often as I could, though. I don't want to waste all the money and time he's put in to the tuition.'

Mrs Heartley looked sour. 'Yes indeed, that would be a terrible shame,' she said darkly.

'Thank you for taking care of George, M'ma,' Susan sighed. 'I promise I won't be terribly late tonight.'

Susan Heartley slipped quietly out of the house, doing up her woollen coat as she hurried for the bus. It weighed on her conscience, leaving George like that, but the choice was impossible. There was a supplementary lecture on about a new piece of technology that promised to improve medical understanding of the heart. It was the first presentation on the topic in America, and it happened to be at Mills College, the only place she would ever get to hear about it. She couldn't miss the opportunity.

The bus was still very busy with people going home from work. Tucking her hands into her pockets against the insidious winter breeze, Susan gazed out of the window at the bay passing by. Even after five years in California, it still took her breath away sometimes when she looked out at the sea.

Out there somewhere was her husband. His ship would be on its way back from Anchorage before very long, and he would be home for Christmas. The thought made her smile. George would be so delighted to have his father home again, if only for a little while.

The lights of the college were dim with evening when she stepped off the bus, most of the lecture halls already closed up and at rest. A few other women were on their way in, despite the hush, and she joined them on the way down the empty corridors to the one lit hall at the end.

The room was still echoing with conversation as thirty or forty women found their seats and said good evening to their fellow students. Susan followed suit as she settled down, and then busied herself arranging her notebook and pen. The latter David had bought her, a wedding present and a promise for her studies; it fitted perfectly in her hand, worn with use and gratitude.

At last there was a rattle on the lectern and the remaining stragglers took their seats.

'Good evening, students of Mills College. It is an honour to be speaking with you tonight.'

And just like that, the world turned once more.

Though she hadn't heard his voice in more than a decade, it didn't take any more than that. He stood on the stage with an unassuming air, a little uneasy in the spotlight, but she recognised every piece of him. His clothes were different - no more all-weather travel clothes or well-worn shoes, he wore a very fine suit tonight with a wine red waistcoat - but the rest of him was... identical.

She leant on her desk to stare at him, her breath stolen by the shock. Thirteen years. Thirteen years, and he bore the very same smile as he introduced himself, the same warm eyes.

'I am Professor Anderson, and I will be your lecturer this evening on the new electrocardiograph mechanism created by our esteemed colleague in the Netherlands, Mr Willem Einthoven.'

Everyone clapped politely, and he nodded and gestured over his shoulder to the large, sheet-covered object behind him.

'I'm delighted to say that today I have the honour of showing you a prototype example that has been sent to this country for testing, thanks to the generosity of a good friend of mine, and with your help we may even be able to provide a practical demonstration of its use.'

There were a few gasps.

The lecture began. Susan did listen, of course - the subject, the history of its creation and iteration, the practical and theoretical applications, were all fascinating - but it was less easy for her to keep notes than usual. Her quick hand stayed idle as she watched Mr Grant, or was it Anderson, pacing back and forth across the stage in his excited delivery of the facts. If his face or his voice had left her in any doubt, this last was enough to reassure her: His clear love for the sharing of knowledge made her heart swell with remembered joy, the undoubtable recognition of the first person to truly understand her passionate curiosity. This was the same man. She would have banked her own life on it.

She knew she had to speak to him. If nothing else, she had to thank him. Her whole life had been changed by his visit, the walls of her world torn down, a new freedom offered - there was no measure for it.

And she wanted to know, with a painful sort of feeling in her chest, if he remembered her even one iota so vividly.

There was no hesitation in her mind when he asked for a volunteer, no matter the chilly evening or how he had described the procedure. She stood up at once, almost knocking her papers onto the floor.

He met her gaze with a smile that was unreadable. It was impossible to tell if he knew her. She made her way down to the floor carefully, self-conscious under the whispering stares of her fellow students, and he helped her onto the stage; his hand felt very cold.

'Good evening, ma'am. Thank you for volunteering. As I explained, you will need to bare both your arms and your left leg below the knee, that they may be immersed in the saline solution. Are you happy to do so?'

'Yes, doctor. Professor.'

'Very good. You may make yourself ready behind the screen, if you wish.'

She hurried to obey. As she shed her coat he was still talking to the others, but she could no longer focus on the words, all her thoughts bent on his presence.

He hadn't changed. Not even a fraction. No line on his face was different, no hair out of place, no single streak of grey. He was utterly identical to the man she had met thirteen years ago. Now her eyes were drawn to different details, of course - a woman's eye, no longer a girl's - but she knew him like he were part of her. His image had been etched into her mind over the years, an outline of the first person to ever believe in her, against whom all others were compared. Only a few were his equal; David was highest among them, some of her professors and lecturers close behind, and far in the distance her parents, once they had finally begun to accept her ambitions.

With the sleeves of her blouse rolled up and one stocking removed, she walked nervously back into the public eye. He turned to greet her with a smile once more, bowing his head politely.

'Ah, very good. Well, ma'am, I hope the water has not cooled completely. If you experience any discomfort, please inform me at once. Now, if you would care to take a seat...'

The chair was a little awkward, but it was at least cushioned. He helped her carefully to place her arms into the receptacles of lukewarm water at her sides, and then knelt on the stage before her to do the same with her bare foot. Again she was struck by his cool hands, but his touch was very gentle and calm, and perfectly businesslike and proper. Despite the oddly personal nature of the moment, she found herself at ease. She almost forgot about the audience.

'When the electromagnetic field forms a circuit through these three electrodes, you may feel a tingling or prickling sensation,' he told her evenly as he returned to his feet. 'This is quite natural, given the electricity involved, but it has no ill effects. Please don't be afraid.'

'I'm not afraid,' Susan said with a faint smile.

He nodded, and then turned back to the crowd. 'Now, you may wish to observe closely,' he said more loudly. 'With the machine running, we will begin to see the action of the so-called 'string', the fine quartz and silver fibre in this part of the mechanism. As Miss Darrow's heart beats, the faint electrical signals will be picked up through the electrodes at her hands and foot and reflected through the fibres, creating a pattern that can be described through the terminology Einthoven has coined - as we discussed earlier.'

Susan listened as he talked on, but her thoughts were stuck in a knot around one thing: Miss Darrow.

So he does remember me, she thought. The smile was so strong it almost hurt.

When he switched the machine on, Susan felt the slight buzzing sensation in her palms. She watched as Professor Anderson indicated the different elements of the machine and described what they were doing, and then, at last, the results. There were a number of collective gasps and exclamations as he showed the tracing to the room.

'As you can see, we have here a remarkably clear diagram of the rhythm created by Miss Darrow's heartbeat. Of course, at this moment in time we have quite limited data to compare it to, so the diagnostic potential is still in its infancy - but I can say I'm quite happy with the results. You have a fine, strong heart, madam.'

He bowed his head to Susan, and there was a general polite titter from the crowd. Although she was sure it was ridiculous, Susan felt a swell of pride.

A little while after that the machine was switched off, and Susan dried herself on the towel that had been left behind the screen while Professor Anderson continued speaking. When she was properly dressed again she retreated to her desk, but there was little left of the lecture. Soon he was asking for their questions, and for once in her life, Susan couldn't put them all into words.

While the rest of the students queried the details of the lecture, she sat quietly. She stayed that way even as the questions ended and the crowd began to file out of the room. Her eyes stayed on the professor on the stage as he began to gather his notes and put the cover back over the machine.

At last she could wait no longer, so she walked quietly back to where he was checking his things and cleared her throat.

'Good evening,' she said.

He looked up at her and gave her the softest smile.

'And to you. Can I help you?'

'I wanted to thank you for the very interesting lecture,' she offered, and paused. 'I'm afraid I must correct you on one point, however.'

'By all means. I always appreciate being provided with a fuller understanding,' he said wryly.

She smiled at him innocently. 'It isn't Miss Darrow anymore,' she said. 'I'm Mrs Heartley now.'

For a moment he seemed frozen, and then his face broke and he gave a quiet chuckle.

'Ah... I never did ask your name, did I? How exceptionally rude of me, and careless.' He shook his head. 'I am delighted to be able to congratulate you, then, Mrs Heartley. I would ask after your health, but as we have seen, you seem very well indeed.'

'I am, and thank you,' Susan answered, laughing softly. 'I don't know what to say to you, sir. Or what name to call you by, in fact. Did I misremember my facts when I thought to call you Alastair Grant?'

He only shrugged. 'I have never given much credence to names, at least my own. I've worn quite a number in my life, so you may call me whatever you wish, Mrs Heartley.'

'I see,' she said thoughtfully. 'I'm afraid I am a creature of habit, so I would like to call you Alastair.'

'By all means.' His eyes crinkled with amusement.

'Then since we are being so informal, Alastair, I must ask you to call me Susan.'

He nodded. 'It would be my pleasure, Susan. But I believe the custodian wishes to close up the hall momentarily. May I walk you to your transport?'

She took his arm. 'Thank you, Alastair.'

As they entered the corridor he looked down at her thoughtfully.

'I must say I am quite delighted to see you again, and that you are here at Mills College. I asked after you a year or two ago, but I was told there was no one of that name here.'

'I've been married for nearly five years now,' she said. 'Perhaps that was the trouble.'

'Perhaps. When I spoke to Mrs Mills, she said nobody had come to her with my name, however. I did fear that perhaps you had chosen to stay in Benson.'

Susan cast her gaze aside. 'No, I left Benson quite some time ago. I moved to San Francisco to find work, and I met my husband there. But I never did speak to Mrs Mills about you. I wanted to earn my place here for myself.'

'Ah...' Alastair smiled. 'A respectable intent. I'm very glad you chose to come here, after all.'

'I always wanted to. David - my husband - had been a great support to me.'

'Good,' Alastair said, giving her a thoughtful look. 'I'm pleased to hear that.'

Susan smiled softly. 'He has always encouraged me very much,' she said. 'He takes an improper amount of pride in my meagre accomplishments, I think. He isn't an academic man himself, by most definitions, as he does struggle rather with his letters and numbers, but he thinks very highly of a good education and he wanted me to have that if I wanted it.'

'That is an honourable position to be in,' Alastair noted. 'Not all of us are made for every task in human nature - some favour the academic, others the practical or the empathetic. We may all find our place, God willing, and admire the same in others whether or not we understand their burdens.'

Susan nodded and was quiet for a moment as they walked. Looking at him sidelong in the shadows of the echoing corridors, he seemed far less like an ordinary man than he had once in the summer sun. Now he seemed beautiful, in a strange way; gaunt of face and somehow distant, but lovely in that particular manner that you can't quite explain but that draws you in. There was a luminous nature about him, almost shining in the dark.

'And what are your burdens, Alastair?' she asked softly.

He chuckled and winked at her lightly. 'Not for you to understand, my dear. Tell me more of David. How does he make his living?'

'He is with the navy,' Susan answered. She knew perfectly well that he was trying to distract her, but she wondered if there was any reason to debate him on it. Perhaps it was best for him to keep his secrets.

They ambled slowly out of the college and down the tree-lined avenue, still talking. When they reached the street, however, Susan glanced around.

'How are you getting home tonight?' Alastair enquired.

Susan sighed. 'I appear to have missed the last bus, so it seems I shall be walking.'

He gave her a serious look. 'Is it far for you to go?'

'Not very. Perhaps forty minutes.'

He frowned. 'That is a long way at this time of night, especially for a young woman alone.'

'I'll be alright.'

'May I walk you back? I would hate for you to come to any trouble.'

Susan hesitated. It wasn't very proper to be seen walking such a long way with a strange man, but then again, she wasn't sure she cared. No one else knew Alastair or why she was so happy to see him. There was no indecency in it, only gratitude.

'That is very kind of you. Thank you.'

'How old is your son?' he asked as she led the way down the road.

'George is nearly four.' She bit her lip. 'He's a very sweet boy, good natured. I do worry about him, though, I must admit. He doesn't speak much as yet. It's very late.'

'Does he have any words at all?'

'A few. Mother and Father, please and thank you, that sort of thing.'

'Then I wouldn't be concerned, myself. He clearly doesn't lack comprehension or ability. Some children just need a little more time to be comfortable with the complexity of communication. Keep making conversation with him and not expecting too much, and one day he may surprise you.'

Susan laughed a little, relieved at the thought. 'Oh, you're probably right. Is it foolish of me that I see other little boys and wonder if I am doing something terribly wrong with mine? Most children his age are such chatter-boxes, it's quite charming, so I can't help fearing that I've made some mistake with George to keep him so quiet.'

Alastair smiled and patted her hand on his arm lightly. 'I'm sure most parents would fear the same, but I don't think you need concern yourself. These things take time. Every child is a little different from the last, so you needn't compare him to others for guidance.'

'I will do my best,' she agreed with a smile.

The time passed so very quickly and easily with him by her side. They walked a little slowly, Susan finding her pace lagging more and more as they got closer to the Heartleys' house and the moment that she would have to say goodbye. She found the familiar thoughts returning to her, of trying to ask everything she could while she had the chance, and she had to smile a little at her childish sorrow.

'Alastair, I must ask,' she said quietly, 'is there any chance I will see you again?'

He looked down at her, a crease of worry or perhaps regret between his brows.

'I'm sorry, Susan, but I don't think that's possible.'

She sighed. 'I had a feeling that would be the case.'

'I don't often find myself in the same place twice. It was a favour, returning to Mills, and one that I knew was a risk.' He smiled wryly. 'And I did run into you, of course, so it would have been wiser for me to stay away. But... I'm very glad I met you again, Susan. It is a joy for me to see you so well. You have made so much of your life.'

'Thanks to you,' she said fiercely. 'I could never have left Benson without your encouragement, and your gift! Oh, all those books. You changed my life, Alastair.'

'If I have served you at all then it was my honour,' he said gently. 'But I did not bring you here, that was your own strength of character. I'm so very glad you have chosen to use that excellent mind of yours. One day still I hope to see your name on the pages of your own book. You will tell me if that happens, won't you?'

'How would I do that, oh mystery man?' she said with a laugh. 'If I shall never see you again, I mean.'

He chuckled. 'Ah, well, an excellent point. You may still write to me, if you ever need it.' He pulled a card out of the pocket of his waistcoat and offered it to her. 'This is the address where you can reach me, no matter where I am working. When you have news of your accomplishments I would be very grateful to hear it. And of course if you ever need my help, please don't hesitate to ask for it. I will do anything I can.'

She took the card and held it like a lifeline. 'I will write when I have anything to tell. Thank you, Alastair. That means a great deal to me.'

They were on her doorstep, and she wished that, like a child, she could cling to him in her careless need for comfort - but she was no child anymore, and it wouldn't be right.

'Thank you, Susan,' he said softly. 'My calling will always be to care for people's physical forms, but there is nothing that brings me more pride than the chance to help someone to expand their mind. It has been a great joy to see that you have grown into such an admirable, intelligent, good young woman. I don't doubt for a moment that you will continue to blossom into one of God's true gifts to the earth.'

Flushed with the unexpected praise, she felt a curious sort of pain in her heart and had to hide it with a smile. 'You are very kind, sir. I hope your travels treat you well, wherever you go, and whatever names you use.' She took his hands in hers and held them tightly for a moment, overcome with a homesick kind of affection. 'I'm so very grateful to you, Alastair. For everything.'

He only nodded, and she found she couldn't stand his gaze any longer.

'Goodnight,' she said, and hurried inside. The little card was still clutched in her gloved hand, more precious than all the treasures in the world.

On the doorstep, lit still by the flickering light of the street lamps, the man stood for a few more moments and looked up at the stars. Then he pulled down his hat and walked away into the night.

Author's note: I have a horrible shame about this chapter because I fudged so much of the scientific history. I swear I did try to research it. Basically there's no way Carlisle would have had the Einthoven electrocardiograph in this year in this place, and also the model at this time was a huge, bulky thing that was tough to transport anywhere and took several people to use. The technology described in this chapter is much closer to the version that was built commercially close to ten years later. But what the hell, I chose my own screw-ups and I'll stand by them. Let's just pretend he had access to an early prototype of the later model and go with that.