Chapter 27:

︻一

Friday, October 12, 1916

︻一

"Have you learned anything useful?" Mama Biggins asked, standing on a step stool as she dusted the antelope head on the parlour wall.

With a sigh, Isobel closed Eddie's medical book. She'd spent all morning consulting various texts. "Thon expert on comas disnae say anything verra useful. It seems it's anybody's best guess what will happen, assuming Em …"

In the middle of the night, Katy had burst into Isobel and Eddie's room to shake her awake, scaring the couple half to death. Was it really necessary for everyone in the house to catch them unclothed?

Evidently, Emmett had opened his eyes, but by the time Isobel donned her dressing gown and ran downstairs, he was unconscious again. No amount of begging on Jasper's part stimulated so much as a twitch. The poor soul had cried and cried.

"What are his chances?" Mama Biggins asked quietly.

"Even, I daresay, although he's already sae worn down. But then again, he's a fighter. I dinnae ken. It's early days."

"But Katy insists he was awake."

"The doctor who wrote this book says it's not unusual for people in comas to open their eyes, move around or answer questions. Some even sleepwalk. The trouble is they're not really present."

"Then how are we going to tell if he's really awake?"

"I dinnae ken. He'll be … sensible, I suppose." Isobel peered out the front window into the street. It was a lovely day; one of the last they could expect before winter, but she didn't feel as though she could go out.

"Hm," Mother Biggins said sadly, "I'm sure that must be it."

Eddie walked quietly into the room, his suspenders resting on his hips. He was wearing a linen summer shirt with short sleeves; the flares and wheals on his inner forearms and hands had erupted into alarming shades of burgundy, merlot and ruby, and in places, there were even a few pustules.

"Is there any oatmeal?" he asked mildly.

Isobel sprang to her feet and grasped his wrists, turning his palms to the light entering through the front window. He grunted and flinched.

"What haff ye done? Ye're bleeding." As always, her brogue broadened and betrayed her upset. Mama Biggins stepped up beside Isobel to have a peek.

"My, that's terrible, that is."

"It's nothing," Eddie told her. "I was scratching in my sleep. Sorry about the bedclothes."

"Don't you go worrying about such. A little starch paste will remedy that." Mama Biggins hurried out, presumably to get some.

Isobel kissed the back of Eddie's hands. "I'm the one who should be sorry. I shall pack up that tartan right away to take back to Aunt Maggie. Mae cousin Colleen shall haff it." She pressed firmly on one of the wheals, leaving three fingers in place, then lifted them to make sure the skin blanched. It did.

"It's only urticaria, Bella. Nothing new."

"Only urticarial, indeed!" she huffed. "Did ye sleep at all?"

"Yes. It wasn't bad until I scratched it." He flexed his fingers as though eager to abuse himself again.

"Ye'll haff tae have the mittens back at night."

"Spiffy.[i] Do you still have the stockings you cut up before?"

"Yes, actually. Do ye haff hives annaewhere else?"

"No."

"Come ben the kitchen and I shall make ye a calamine poultice."[ii]

"Thank you." Eddie sat down on the bench in the kitchen and Isobel placed a cloth beneath his arms to catch the drips. Then, she dropped some linen into a bowl and poured calamine over it. "What time is it?" he asked.

"Eleven o'clock. Why, are you hungry for dinner already?"

"My eye appointment is at two."

"Oh, damn. Good thing you remembered."

︻一

The only distinguishing characteristic of Dr. Heath's clinic was its near-total whiteness. The walls were white, the furniture, too, and light poured in through the large windows. Eddie winced at the brightness.

"Lieutenant Masen," the man himself said, taking Eddie's hand and shaking it with vigour. "How lovely to see you! And Mrs. Masen. Always a pleasure." His bright blue eyes twinkled. He always remembered to come close enough for Eddie to see him.

"Hello, Doctor," Eddie said, liking the man despite the fact that their second-to-last encounter had hardly been pleasant.

"Welcome! I was worried you wouldn't come when you didn't show up last week."

"Sorry, I was detained at work."

"No matter. I'm so glad you agreed to see me again. Come, I want to show you something." He placed Eddie's hand on his arm and led him to sit at a plain white table holding a black apparatus approximately the size of a desk lamp.

"What is it?" Eddie asked.

"Have you ever had an eye test before?"

"We had to read acuity charts when we joined the army."

"But you've never seen one of these before, have you?"

"No."

Heath nudged Eddie's arm. "Go ahead and touch it. You can't hurt it, explore all you like."

Eddie placed both hands on the object. It had a wide, heavy base with feet. Not like a tripod, more like a microscope. It was possibly made of cast iron. And above the base was sort of a short pole. And above that was the strangest thing… two round, thick disks with glass in the middle. Not like a camera. Strange. And something like binoculars on the near side. And there were gears on the outer edges. On the front, some kind of thingamabob held metal-edged disks. Heath snapped one of the small disks from the holder and placed it in Eddie's hand.

"Here, look."

Eddie turned it over and felt it with his stumpy thumb. "Is it … a lens?"

Heath clapped him on the shoulder. "Precisely! Now, this isn't the newest machine, mind you, but it will tell us what your eyes look like inside and it will tell me if spectacles may be of any help to you. What do you say?"

"Is it going to hurt?"

"No, not at all. Except, I will have to shine a bright light in your eyes. That may not be very comfortable. But this is just like looking through binoculars. Are you up to the task?"

"Are you saying you think eyeglasses might help me?"

"Well, I think we should find out, don't you?"

"Yes!"

"Excellent." The doctor walked the length of the room, shutting all the curtains, then returned to Eddie. "Put your feet flat on the floor and set your forearms on the table." Heath pressed between Eddie's shoulder blades. "That's right. Now set your chin here and press your face against the phoroptor."

"Um?"

"This machine is like a microscope for looking at the eye. It's called a phoroptor."

"Okay, then." Eddie leaned forward gingerly and Dr. Heath arranged the apparatus on his nose.

"Good."

Eddie flexed his hands on the table, which mercifully felt cool against his hives. What would happen next?

"Now, it will help me if you can keep your eyes still. Do you think you can focus on the eye chart behind me?"

"I can't see it." Eddie was aware that his eyes tended to drift if he was unable to focus on an object.

"Can you pretend to look at it?"

"I'll try."

"Good. Now, you'll hear some clicking as I switch out the lenses. I already put some in the machine that I think might help you. I'm only examining your eyes right now, though, so don't try too hard to see anything."

"All right." A tiny dot of light fluttered around Dr. Heath. Once in a while, a beam of light swept through the darkness in Eddie's head, rather like the circling of the torch in a lighthouse. The insides of Eddie's eyeballs suddenly became visible to him. He could see squiggles, which were evidently capillaries, and some dark shapes that he couldn't distinguish.

"I can see inside my head," he told Bella. "And just so everyone is aware, it isn't empty." Heath and Bella both laughed.

"All right," Heath said. "I'm going to shine this directly in your eye now. Pretend you're looking me in the face and try not to move."

"Okay." The light got closer and brighter and Eddie tried not to blink, but the light was so damned intense. He clenched his fists and sucked air through his teeth. The doctor pulled his torch away.

"All right, that's it. Now we're going to do the same thing on the right side."

A few minutes later, Dr. Heath sat back with a satisfied grunt. "Excellent, my boy. You've been following my orders, I see." He pushed a cold, damp cloth into Eddie's hand. Eddie gladly pressed it to his eyes.

"Yes, Sir."

"And how do your eyes feel?"

"They still smart sometimes, but they're a lot better than they were before we started the treatments."

"Good, good. They're a lot clearer than they were a couple of weeks ago, that's for certain. You needn't do the eyewash anymore."

"Clearer? What do you see?" Despite all logic, Eddie couldn't help hoping he was about to get a miracle.

"Oh. You've washed out the loose debris, my dear. I don't expect you can see any more clearly."

He tried not to let his disappointment show lest it upset Bella. "No, not really."

Dr. Heath urged Eddie to his feet, then led him to stand near the edge of the room. "I'm going to show you a chart. Let me know when you can see something."

Eddie crossed his arms. "Hmph. All right." Dr. Heath turned out the light and for a moment, it was quiet. Then, something appeared mid-air, approximately ten feet away from Eddie. "It's a candle," he said. "And a flickering white blob, which I assume to be a paper. Don't set yourself on fire there, Doctor."

"Excellent, Lieutenant. Now what's this?"

"A black blur on a white blob."

"Huzzah! And now?"

Eddie raised a brow. "I don't know. A bigger black blur on a white blob?"

"Say that five times, fast," Bella muttered. Eddie snorted.

"What about this one?"

Eddie squinted at the large shape. "Is that a square?"

"Yes! Good. And now?"

"I think it's an A, but it could be a triangle."

"Bravo, Lieutenant!" The light disappeared and Eddie smelled the extinguished candle. Heath set his paraphernalia down on the table and reached for Eddie. "Come sit here again and have a look through the phoropter. I have a starting point now."

Eddie settled his chin on the rest and placed his face against the machine. Dr. Heath began to hastily compile and apply lenses to the opposing side. Then the right side went black.

"Just have a look at the poster now."

"Is that what that is?" The doctor turned a gear on the side of the machine. "Ah. The black blur again."

"Good. Hang on a second." He switched out a couple of lenses. Eddie blinked.

"Oh. It's an E. Only there's a black spot off to the side that moves around. Was it an E before?"

"Indeed it was." Dr. Heath shuffled the lenses. "Better or worse?"

"Worse."

The lens fitting went on for an exceedingly long, tedious time, and then Dr. Heath tested Eddie's better eye.

"The great … brown … fox jumped over … the lazy dog," Eddie read from a card using only his right eye. He didn't know whether to be excited or terrified by the accomplishment.

"Och, Eddie, ye can read it!" Bella clapped her hands.

"Is that really what it says?" he frowned, massaging his temple. "It seems a ridiculous thing for a fox to do. Who wrote this story?"

Dr. Heath patted him on the shoulder and slid the phoroptor away from him. "Never mind." He pulled his stool closer to Eddie. "Let's get down to brass tacks, shall we? I'll give you the bad news first."[iii]

Eddie tried not to fidget. "Yes, Sir."

"Your distance vision is pretty much gone. I don't think spectacles are going to help you get around and about. You're always going to be functionally blind, so I'd suggest you take more lessons from that blind friend of yours."

So much for being able to read. "But …"

"The black spot you see in your left eye is another bone fragment."

Eddie began to sweat. "You're not going to—"

"No. I wouldn't dare touch it. It's lodged too deeply and I haven't the skill. But Lieutenant, it could move and make your eyesight worse."

Although the suggestion had been made before, the possibility of loss now seemed far more concrete. Eddie found himself sweating at the idea of not being able to see anything at all. "What can I do?"

"Nothing. I'm sorry. But the good news concerns your near-vision."

Eddie shifted in his chair. "You think you can help me?"

"Oh, yes. Spectacles will definitely help you with close work like reading. But before we look at frames, let me tell you about your vision."

"Okay."

"Do you know what 20/20 means?"

"It means that if an object is twenty feet away, the average person can see it."

"Very good. Unfortunately, your sight is not so good. Your vision in the left eye is approximately 20/600, and in the right, 20/400."

"So if a normal person can see something that's six hundred feet away, a canon, for instance, then I'd only be able to see it if it's twenty feet from me?"

"Precisely."

Eddie blew out his breath. "Guess I'm barred from the battlefield, then."

"I should hope so. We do want our own boys to have a sporting chance."

"Are you sure about that?"

"Hah! You can bet your boots on it."

"Sorry, I like these boots."

︻一

"Tired," Eddie sighed as climbed the stairs to their room. "It was a lot of effort."

"I hope ye dinnae get a migraine," Isobel said. "Ye've strained yerself."

"My parents would never believe me if I were to cancel—Holy Cow!" Eddie stopped dead on the stairs. "Emmett?"

Isobel ducked her head beneath Eddie's arm so she could see past him. Emmett was walking along the upstairs hallway from the WC, looking mesmerized. Jasper matched his steps. He was holding onto the back of the captain's suspenders lest he fall.

"Good gracious!" Bella gasped.

"He's sleepwalking," Jasper said tonelessly. Eddie had seen corpses with more colour. "He kept trying to get out of bed and I wouldn't let him, and then he told me he had to go to the lavatory. He's been twice. Managed quite well on his own, except I had to remind him to wash his hands."

"Wass'd 'em," Emmett said.

"Yes, well done." Jasper gave him a pat on the shoulder. "It's time to go back to bed now."

Wordlessly, Emmett crowded Eddie and Isobel on the stairs and grasped the handrail. He picked his way down to the main level, Jasper hovering behind him, while Eddie and Isobel gawped at them.

"So it is all in his mind," Eddie murmured. "He can walk if he doesn't fuss about it."

"He's slurring his speech," Isobel said. "He has brain damage."

"Yes, but he's not anxious. The neurasthenia truly is anxiety-based, contrary to what Dr. Beard avowed in his text."[iv]

"Dr. Beard believes neurasthenia to be caused by chaotic environments."

"Well yes, but is the damage to the body real or hypochondraic?"

"Ye're not saying Morton was right!"

Eddie's forehead creased. "No, Emmett's not a malingerer. Morton's act of barbarism accomplished nothing for Emmett. It almost got him killed. But if Emmett were to believe he could walk, would he do it?"

"That seems likely, although I hate to give Morton any credit."

"I've said before that I believe Emmett will walk again once he's free of distress, and physically strong enough."

Isobel pursed her lips. "Well, we've seen him walk before, but he's verra frail."

"Frighteningly so."

"Yes."

"Come and help me make a note." Eddie took hold of Isobel's arm and nudged her toward the upper landing.

"Are ye going to tell Harris?" she asked as he opened their door for her.

"No. We'll keep it between us. I don't want Em exposed to any experiments. We'll just monitor him and see if we can glean any facts from his behaviour later."

"Do ye trust Harris, Eddie?"

"I like him, but I can't trust anyone outside this house to put Emmett's welfare above that of scientific advancement."

"Agreed."

"We must collect facts, though, in case there's something we can do to benefit Emmett, and other patients, later."

"All right." Isobel removed her hat and cloak. She gathered a paper and pen. Eddie held her chair for her and then joined her at their little table. "Dictate away, my love," she said.

Between them, they constructed a detailed account of Emmett's symptoms since Morton's experiment. Isobel placed the papers in a file, which she hid beneath the mattress. "Nobody will come across it there."

"Nobody but Mother Biggins, and I trust her implicitly."

"Yes."

"Bella?"

"Yes?"

He tugged her gently onto his knee. "Have you been keeping track of your monthlies?"

"Of course. Sorry, trouble, but it's too early. Dinnae count yer chickens."

"Twenty-five days, Bella," he breathed against her mouth.

"Ah, someone has been counting."

"Someone would like to hedge our bets." He tipped her head to the side so he could trail kisses down her neck.

"Is that so?"

"Mm-hmm." He flexed his hips up so she could feel him. "How much time do we have before we must leave?"

"Two hours. But I maun do my hair."

"How long does it take to do your hair?" he plucked a pin from her pinafore.

"Forever."

Sighing, he plucked out the other pin and the front of her pinny fell to her waist. "I wish you'd leave it down." He tugged on the bow at the small of her back until it surrendered and fell limp. Much like her resistance to his charms.

"Tae go out with yer parents? That would be scandalous. I wouldnae dare."

"I'll give you thirty minutes before we leave."

"That's nae enough." She felt the button on the back of her petticoat pop open. Her back arched. "Eddie."

"Attention, Nurse!" He stripped her out of her jacket.

"Eddie!"

"Stand up."

"But—"

"You're wasting time."

Isobel supressed an eyeroll and stood. Her skirts whooshed to the floor, leaving her in her corset, garters, stockings and heels. Eddie moaned and stroked her bare backside.

"The things you do to me."

"I might say the same."

"Bend over on the table."

Isobel's jaw dropped. "But Eddie, we eat at the table!"

He pressed her forward gently. "Precisely." Once she was resting on her stomach and forearms, he gently grasped her ankle and raised it until she had her shin on the arm of his chair. "Is this hurting you?"

"No?"

"Are you certain?"

"Erm, I'm afraid to fall."

He held her steady and manoeuvred her other leg onto the other arm of the chair so she was completely open to him. "I won't let you fall."

His hot tongue caressed her from stem to stern and she pushed back toward him. "God, Eddie." She rested her cheek on the table while he nibbled and licked at her while kneading her backside. Her legs quivered. Then he wet his thumb and pushed it inside her, never missing a beat. Had her ribs not been broken, she'd have writhed all over him. Happily, he was doing all the work. And enjoying it thoroughly, by the sound of it.

"This isnae hedging yer bet, Eddie." But she moaned regardless.

"I'm only getting started."

As Isobel began to wonder if she could take it anymore, he rose and carefully turned her on her back, resting her legs on his shoulders.

"I love this," he said, trailing his fingers down her stockings. Releasing the buttons of his trous, he slicked himself on her wetness and sank inside. His mouth fell open and his face lit with bliss. He bit down on his lip and rocked forward, leaning his weight on his hands.

"So do I," she said.

"I'm so glad. I love you."

"And I love you."

He varied his speed, producing the most delicious sensations. Isobel watched him tenderly, awed by his passion. As his movements became more erratic, he reached between her legs and stroked her with his thumb, making her cry out.

"That's it, Bella. Come for me."

"Watch me, Eddie!" She panted and bore down, squeezing him so hard that he had to lean against her to stay in.

"Give me your sounds."

She babbled incoherently about his strength and comeliness. He began to tremble, and his jaw clenched. With a final thrust, he threw back his head, his expression falling slack, and she felt him pulse into her where they were joined. They breathed together, and then he wrapped her legs around his middle and caged her in his arms, lowering her to her feet. She leaned against the edge of the table while he tucked himself away.

He kissed her lips, then sank to his knees, dropping kisses on her belly and thighs as he descended. He took off her shoes and guided her to the bed, turned back the covers, placed a pillow beneath her hips, and covered her up. Mama Biggins had changed the sheets. Isobel watched Eddie lazily while he removed his boots, trousers and shirt. Then he spooned up beside her, bending his knees and lifting her legs to rest atop his muscular thighs. He really was determined that his seed should bear fruit. Isobel couldn't repress a smile.

'How's yer rash?"

"I'll live. How are your ribs?" he murmured. She could feel his heart drumming in time with her own.

"Still sore."

"Did I hurt you?"

"No. I'd haff told ye if ye had."

"I didn't offend you with my … coarseness?"

Isobel huffed a laugh. "Do I seem offended?"

"No."

"It was I who was positively brazen. I told ye tae watch!"

He brushed his lips along her jaw. "Oh, Bella. Just you wait until I have my spectacles."

︻一︻一︻一︻一︻一

Happy Memorial Day to my American friends. Thank you to all our allied veterans for your service and sacrifices. 3

Thanks to everyone who prayed for me and my son. I was awfully ill in April but I'm just about back to normal. Techwiz came through his angioplasty last week with flying colours.

I can hardly believe it's been a whole year since I published MOMs. Time flies when you're having fun. Yes, I have lots of writing projects on the go. Hopefully I will still get a couple of things out this year.

︻一︻一︻一︻一︻一

[i] Spiffy: shiny and attractive. Usually used in reference to the appearance of a person or their clothing. Eddie is being sarcastic, naturally.

[ii] Calamine lotion: the mineral calamine is mixed with either zinc oxide (ZnO) with about 0.5% ferric oxide (Fe2O3) or a zinc carbonate compound. Calamine removes the itch from mild-to-moderate rashes. The World Health Organization lists it as one of the world's essential medications. It's cheap and easy to obtain. It can be poured into bandages and compresses, and is often used to treat skin ulcers.

[iii] Brass tacks: a phrase coined in Texas in the mid-nineteenth century, meaning 'to get down to the basics, or face reality.' Nobody knows the exact origin, but it's suspected to come from the placement of brass tacks in a wooden counter, a yard apart, to measure fabric to be cut up for sale.

[iv] Dr. George Millard Beard wrote medical textbooks dating from 1881, explaining that neurasthenia was an actual physical ailment caused by hectic environments, not a result of psychological weakness and hypochondria. He suggested the only cure was a complete removal from stress. Of course the treatment didn't often solve the problem as neurasthenia was (and is) caused by many illnesses, both mental and physical. Only psychologists continue to use the term. It's widely known today that neurasthenia would now be diagnosed as ailments such as fibromyalgia, PTSD, postpartum depression, chronic fatigue syndrome, mononucleosis and chronic depression. Amazingly, military officers who were diagnosed with neurasthenia might have shown no improvement with rest and removal from the stressful environment, but many were cured after revisiting sites where they'd battled during the war. Once they came to term with their pasts, they were able to heal and move on.