I
1867
"So, how are things with David?" asked Rebecca once the maid had left the parlor.
Michaela sighed mournfully, "The same. Physically at least. Morally he's getting melancholier and more irritable every day, I barely dare to speak to him even about the most mundane thing. Neither of us enjoy small talk to begin with, but now I can't even interest him into discussing politics, philosophy, let alone medicine…" she suppressed a sob, and pressed her handkerchief to her lips.
Rebecca immediately joined her on the settee and cuddled her maternally to her bosom.
"I'm so sorry, Mike, sshhh…"
Hearing the nickname her father called her since babyhood, Michaela cried harder. Josef Quinn had succumbed to a massive cerebral hemorrhage only a few weeks before, leaving his wife and five daughters inconsolable. His death had hit his youngest the hardest, bereaving her not only of his affection, but of his guidance and wisdom as well. Not to mention that she was losing all of their patients, who only had agreed to be treated by her as long as her father was around to supervise their care. Some of them only saw her as some kind of nurse or midwife at best.
Michaela's work now resided exclusively in her visits to Boston's slums and asylums, but she knew she couldn't go on working for close to nothing much longer, or she would have to let go the nurses who looked after David all through the day, and take care of him herself, the bequest from her father and David's meager veteran pension eaten away by their salaries. Even though David's older brother had generously opened his home to the couple, it had rankled both their prides to accept his hospitality.
David heard his wife's muffled sobs as the nurse was wheeling him past the parlor. Soundlessly, he made a sign to stop and strained his ears to catch the conversation. But as soon as he heard his name, he suddenly didn't want to know more, and motioned to the nurse to proceed toward the conservatory.
There, the nurse gave him his morning medication, and began to read the Boston Globe, as she had been doing every two days for the past year. Like her colleague Edna, Maggie was a tall and sturdy country girl, with only enough schooling to read and make notes on patients record, but no formal nursing training. Most of her experience she had gained assisting doctors on battlefields. Both were strong enough to handle a patient as imposing and barely cooperative as David Lewis when it came to transfer him from his bed to his wheelchair and assist him with using the commode. It had taken time, but David had eventually mellowed toward his nurses. He was now familiar enough with their presence to be much more polite and easy-going, though he was still prone to sudden bursts of bitterness, when he would refuse any kind of assistance and send everybody packing, including his wife, whose sight only made his frustrations worse.
At first, Michaela had fooled herself into thinking that with proper care, David would eventually get out of his wheelchair and move on with his life. After fourteen months of hard work, he had managed to stand on his own, even shuffle a few steps. But ever since he had realized he could no longer perform his marital duty no matter all he had tried, their once beautiful, healthy relationship had been insidiously disintegrating. They had been so in love, had wanted a family together so desperately, and start a long line of doctors and activists, no matter the gender… Being denied of parenthood had crushed David's will and courage to the point that he suffered a serious setback, forcing him back to his wheelchair full time… Michaela had tried to suggest they could always adopt, but he wouldn't hear of it. He wanted to raise his own flesh and blood and Michaela's. For a time, he had even resented her for suggesting it at all. Didn't she know him at all?
Now, all he could do was brood in his brother's study or in the conservatory for hours, sometimes not even bothering to show up for meals, forcing his nurse or one of his brother's servants to bring him a tray and beg him to make an effort and eat. He had been losing tremendous weight, literally wasting away from discouragement, lack of exercise and proper rest and nourishment... He was at the point where he no longer cared whether he lived or die.