“I suppose he was worth it,” his mother said, sounding uncertain, as the nurse left again. Hortie didn’t like to hold him often. Motherhood still scared her, and she hadn’t forgiven the baby yet for the agony he’d caused her. She knew she’d remember that for a long, long time. “My mother says I’ll forget eventually. I’m not so sure. It was really awful,” she said again. “Poor James has no idea, and I’m not allowed to tell him. Men aren’t supposed to know.” It seemed a strange principle to Annabelle, since they would have told him if she died. But failing that, it was supposed to remain a mystery, and one was supposed to pretend that everything had been easy and fine.

“I don’t see why he can’t know. I would tell Josiah. There’s nothing I can’t say to him. And I think he’d worry about me, if I didn’t.”

“Some men are like that. James isn’t. He’s a baby. And Josiah is a lot older, he’s more like your father. So did you have fun?”

“We had a wonderful time.” Annabelle smiled. “I learned to flyfish, and we rode every day.” She had loved galloping over the foothills with Josiah amid seas of wildflowers.

“What else did you learn?” Hortie asked with an evil look, and Annabelle ignored her. “I learned some pretty interesting stuff from James on our honeymoon in Paris.” Everyone in town knew that before his marriage at least, James had gone to prostitutes constantly. There were whispers about it. And he had probably learned things from them that Annabelle didn’t want to know, although Hortie didn’t seem to mind. Annabelle much preferred being married to Josiah, even if they didn’t start a family for a while. And they needed to find a house first anyway, since his apartment was too small.

Hortie got nowhere with her questions and racy innuendoes, and eventually she got tired and had to nap, so Annabelle left her and went home. It had been good to see her, and the baby was beautiful, but the story of his birth had shaken Annabelle. She wanted a baby, but had no desire to go through all that. And she wondered how long it would be before she had a baby of her own. She would have liked to hold Charles for a moment, but Hortie had never offered, and seemed to have no desire to hold the baby herself. But given what had happened to her, Annabelle told herself that it was understandable, and she wondered if it took time to develop maternal instincts, just as it took time to get used to the idea of being a husband or wife. Neither she nor Josiah had fully gotten used to all of that yet.





Chapter 9




By the time the social season in New York got fully under way in November, Hortie was back on her feet, and Josiah and Annabelle were invited everywhere. They frequently ran into Hortie and James at parties, and Hortie was in good spirits again. The baby was nearly three months old, and Annabelle and Josiah had been married for as long.

Overnight, Annabelle and Josiah had become the most desirable, popular couple in New York. They looked fabulous together, and still had the same easy, lighthearted relationship. They teased each other constantly and were playful, and had long serious discussions on political and intellectual issues, often with Henry when he came to dinner. They talked about books, the ideas they shared, and conversations with Henry were always lively. Sometimes the three of them played cards and laughed a lot.

Josiah and Annabelle dined with her mother at least twice a week and sometimes more often. Annabelle tried to spend as much time as possible with her in the daytime, since she knew how lonely her mother was now, although Consuelo never complained about it. She was dignified and loving. Consuelo didn’t press Annabelle about starting a family, but wished she would. And she couldn’t help noticing that Annabelle spoke to her husband as she had her brother Robert. There was a part of Annabelle that simply hadn’t grown up yet, in spite of all that had happened, but Josiah seemed enchanted by it, and treated her like a child.

As promised, Henry had introduced her to his doctor friend on Ellis Island, and Annabelle had begun working there as a volunteer. She worked long, grueling hours, often with sick children. And her mother was right, although Annabelle never admitted it to her, that many of them were seriously ill when they arrived, and contagion was rampant. But the work was fascinating and she loved it. Annabelle thanked Henry for it every time she saw him. Josiah was very proud of how hard his wife worked, although she rarely shared the details of it with him. But he knew how dedicated she was to the hospital, the immigrants, and the work.

She went to Ellis Island three times a week, was there for exhausting but rewarding days, and often came home late. Annabelle worked in the hospital complex on the south side of the U-shaped island. Sometimes they sent her to the Great Room in the Great Hall. A fire had destroyed it sixteen years before, and the area where she worked had been rebuilt three years after the fire. In the Great Room, immigrants were held in large caged areas, where they were interviewed to make sure that their papers and questionnaires were in order. Most of the immigrants were sturdy laborers, many with wives and young children, or alone. Some had brides waiting for them whom they’d never met or scarcely knew. Annabelle often helped with the interview process, and about two percent of them were sent back, in tears and despair, to the countries where they came from. And in terror of deportation, many people lied in answer to the interviewers’ questions. Feeling desperately sorry for them, Annabelle had jotted down vague, or incorrect, answers more than once. She didn’t have the heart to make them eligible for deportation.

Fifty thousand people arrived at Ellis Island every month, and if Consuelo had seen them, she would have been even more terrified for Annabelle than she was. Many of the people who arrived there had suffered terrible hardships, some were ill, and had to be sent to the hospital complex. The lucky ones left Ellis Island in a matter of hours, but those whose papers were not in order, or were sick, could be quarantined or detained for months or even years. They had to have twenty-five dollars in their possession, and anyone whose entry was in question was sent to the dormitories, if not released. The sick ones went to the 275-bed hospital where Annabelle was normally assigned, doing the work she loved so much.

The doctors and nurses were understaffed and mostly overworked, which meant that they assigned tasks to volunteers that Annabelle would never have gotten to undertake otherwise. She helped deliver babies, cared for the children who were sick, assisted in eye exams for trachoma, which many of the immigrants were afflicted with. Some of them tried to hide their symptoms for fear of being deported. And there were quarantine wards for measles, scarlet fever, and diphtheria, which Annabelle could not enter. But she handled almost everything else, and the doctors she worked with were frequently impressed by her instinctive sense for diagnosis. For an untrained person, she had an impressive amount of knowledge from the reading she’d done, and an innate ability for anything medical, and she had a gentle way with her patients. The patients loved and trusted Annabelle completely, and she sometimes saw hundreds of patients in a single day, on her own for minor complaints or assisting the doctors and nurses on more serious cases. There were three full buildings set up for contagious diseases, and many of the patients there would not be leaving Ellis Island ever.

The tuberculosis ward was one of the saddest in the hospital, and Consuelo would have been frantic to know that Annabelle volunteered there often. She never told her mother, or Josiah either, but the sickest patients were those who interested her most, and where she felt she learned the most about the management and treatment of desperately ill people.

She had been working in the TB ward all day and into the evening one night when she came home late and found Henry and Josiah talking in the kitchen. Josiah commented on how late she was, and she apologized, feeling guilty. She’d had a hard time tearing herself away from her patients in the children’s TB ward. It was ten o’clock when she got home and Henry and Josiah were cooking dinner and talking animatedly about the bank. Josiah gave her a big hug. She was bone tired, and still cold from the boat ride back. He told her to sit down at the kitchen table, handed her a mug of soup, and cooked dinner for her as well.

The conversation between them at the table was lively, as it always was between the three of them, and it revived her to think of something other than her sick patients. They loved batting new and old ideas around, argued about politics, questioned the social rules that had been accepted in their world for centuries, and generally had a good time. They were three bright people with lively minds, and were the best of friends. She had come to love Henry almost as much as Josiah did, and he was yet another brother to her, since she still missed her own so much.

She was too tired to join the conversation much that night, and Josiah and Henry were still in a heated debate about some political issue when Annabelle said goodnight and finally went to bed. She had a hot bath, put on a warm nightgown, and slipped gratefully between the sheets, thinking of the work she’d done on Ellis Island that day. And she was sound asleep long before Henry left and Josiah came to bed. She woke when he came in, and looked at him sleepily as he slipped between the sheets beside her, and she cuddled up to him. And within minutes, she was fully awake, having already had several hours’ rest.

“Sorry I was so tired,” she said sleepily, enjoying his warmth beside her in their bed. She loved sleeping with him, and cuddling. She loved everything about him, and always hoped he loved her as much. Sometimes she wasn’t sure. Relationships with men, and their foibles, were unfamiliar to her. A husband was very different from a father or a brother. The dynamics with a husband were far more subtle and confusing at times.