Centennial
Part 5
CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN
Both of the Cartwright brothers had benefited from a good night’s sleep, and both appeared to be enjoying breakfast, although Adam felt some concern when his younger brother ordered only a soft-boiled egg and toast. The kid simply wasn’t eating enough yet to gain back any of the weight he’d lost over the past week or so. Adam had insisted on adding a glass of apple juice to that order and was pleased when Joe didn’t object.
As they ate at the small table in the parlor of their suite, church bells began to peal in the distance. Seeming surprised, Joe looked toward the open French doors. “Is it Sunday?”
“Yes, it is, Joe,” Adam replied. “Would you like some strawberry jam with that toast? It’s really delicious.”
“No, thanks,” Joe said quickly. “Plain bread is fine. Which Sunday?”
“Which?” Adam looked confused; then he smiled as the light dawned. “Oh, you mean the date. It’s the sixteenth. Lose track of time a bit, did you?”
Joe laughed lightly. “Yeah, I guess I did. So, what day will we leave for Yale? Commencement is this week, right?”
Adam’s mouth gaped for a moment. “Oh, Joe, we’re not going to Yale.”
The toast in Joe’s hand fell to his plate. “But you promised!” he cried, eyes burning into his brother’s face.
Adam was caught completely off guard by the intensity of his brother’s reaction. “Joe, surely you realize that you’re simply not up to an eight-hour train trip.”
“Yes, I am!” Joe insisted. “You promised, Adam. You made me visit all those other colleges, and now you won’t let me go to the only one I cared about seeing. It’s not fair!”
Adam stared at him, nonplussed. “You’re interested in attending Yale? But I thought—”
Joe brushed the air with his hand. “No, no, ‘course not, but I wanted to see where you went to school. You always talk about it like it’s a special place.”
“Well, it is to me, of course.”
“And that makes it special to me,” Joe declared. “Why are you always shutting me out of your life, Adam?”
Adam reached across the table to grasp his brother’s hand tightly. “Joe, I’m not. I was looking forward to showing you around Yale and introducing you to my friends, but you’ve been ill, boy—or did you forget?”
Joe pulled his hand away. “How could I with you hovering over me like some kind of mother hen? Worse than Pa, even!”
Had he been in a mood to argue, Adam might have pointed out that his young brother had voiced no objection to the “hovering” before. If anything, he’d seemed to welcome it. But Adam was too concerned about the effect that working himself up like this would have on Joe to voice any sarcastic comment. “Settle down and eat your breakfast before it gets cold,” he said with firm authority.
Joe pushed his half-finished meal away. “No!”
Adam took a deep breath and pushed the plate back. “Now, don’t be childish,” he chided. “If you think this display of petulance will change my mind, you are sadly mistaken. I’ll be glad to take you to New Haven after you’ve recuperated fully, but I’m afraid you just won’t be strong enough to make the trip by Tuesday, and that’s when we’d need to leave.”
Joe flushed with embarrassment in sudden realization that he had been acting like a child. Not only was that behavior an exhibition of ingratitude for all Adam had done for him, but it wouldn’t work anyway. He knew from experience that he wouldn’t get anything by throwing a tantrum, not from Adam, but he had other methods he was skilled in employing. With a pleading look plastered on his face, he implored, “Will you at least think about it, Adam?” He glanced up slyly. “I’ll eat if you promise to think about it.”
Adam almost laughed aloud at the blatant attempt to manipulate him. The little scamp must be feeling better if he’s up to bargaining and blackmail. Aloud, he said, “Well, if I’m going to agree to that, my conniving little brother, I’m afraid you’ll have to make a better offer. Promise me you’ll eat three substantial meals today, and I promise I’ll give some thought to taking you to Yale for Commencement.”
Joe smiled, relishing the challenge of give-and-take with his older brother. Adam had plenty of conniving talent himself, but he evidently needed to be reminded that he was competing with a master. “Well,” Joe said, drawing the word out to get Adam’s attention, “if you’re gonna up the ante, big brother, you’ve got to make a better offer, too. I’ll eat the best I can today if you promise to give just as much thought to figuring a way to get us to Yale for Commencement as you do to all the reasons you think we shouldn’t go. Deal?”
Fingers stroking his jaw line, Adam sat in silent consideration; then he stretched his hand across the table to seal the bargain. “Deal.” He pointed at Joe’s plate. “Now, eat.”
With a cocky grin Joe picked up his fork and lifted a bite of egg. With the fork halfway to his mouth, he halted. “Well, what are you waiting for? Start thinking!”
Adam laughed and nodded his acquiescence.
After breakfast and his morning bed bath, Little Joe was sitting on the balcony. Adam joined him, carrying the copy of Ivanhoe. “Want to hear some more?” he suggested.
“Well, I would,” Joe said puckishly, “except that’ll keep you from thinking, like you promised.”
Adam chuckled. “You have a one-track mind, little brother.”
“I know what I want, if that’s what you mean,” Joe replied with a grin, “and you did promise.”
“True,” Adam conceded, ‘but I need some time alone for any serious thinking. Tell you what, I’ll spend this morning with you; then, since you’ll probably be tired, I’ll put you to bed after dinner and take a walk out in the garden while you’re resting.”
Joe nodded in agreement. “Yeah, that’s what you need, Adam. Some fresh air is sure to help you think straight.” He favored his brother with his most beguiling smile.
Adam shook his head, chuckling as he opened the book. Even when he knew the smile was a deliberate attempt to captivate, he still found himself susceptible to his younger brother’s considerable charm.
Little Joe made a credible attempt to eat a good dinner and went to bed willingly after reminding Adam that he needed to get outside “to do some proper thinking.” Armed once more with that persuasive smile, he added, “And remember, I was right about that hospital, Adam, and I’m right about this, too.”
“Quit trying to influence the jury, boy,” Adam snorted as he smoothed the sheet over his brother. “Are you sure you wouldn’t like to take up the study of law? I see some definite talent in that direction.”
“Not time for the jury, Adam. I ain’t made my final argument yet,” Joe quipped, keeping up the analogy.
Adam groaned audibly, but he was grinning as he left the hotel room and made his way toward the elevator. The kid was sharp as a tack today, but that was a source of encouragement, even if it did make his younger brother harder to handle. Exiting the elevator, Adam walked through the handsomely appointed lobby and out the back doors into the garden.
As he made his way through the graveled walkways separating the colorful flowerbeds, he pondered the decision before him. His first inclination, of course, was to reject out of hand the inane notion of attending Commencement. If they left on Tuesday, that would be only eleven days after Little Joe had undergone abdominal surgery, only four since he’d left the hospital. The idea was utterly ridiculous!
Still, he had promised to give the matter some real thought, and the little conniver would hold him to that bargain. For that matter, Adam would hold himself to it, for he couldn’t expect Joe to be honest with him if he didn’t display the same integrity to his younger brother. So, as promised, Adam tried to analyze the possibility that Joe could tolerate the journey. Eight hours was longer than the boy had sat up at one time since his illness began, but he was staying up a bit more each day. With only two days remaining until the trip would have to begin, however, would he be able to make enough improvement? Hard to determine, but Adam suspected that the answer was no.
Was there a way to ease the journey, then, so the boy didn’t have to sit upright for eight hours straight? They could leave tomorrow, instead, perhaps spending the night in New York, to break up the travel time. Adam sat down on one of the garden benches, crossing his right leg over his left knee. What about a night train? If there were one leaving Tuesday night, Joe could spend most of the trip lying down, sleeping. Not quite as restful a night as in a stationary bed, but it was an attractive possibility. Joe would have a few hours extra rest here in Philadelphia and a more relaxing eight hours to New Haven than if he spent them sitting up. I’ll check the train schedules, Adam decided.
He realized, though, that he needed to see how much exertion Joe could handle before making a final decision. I’ll bring him down here for a short walk later this afternoon and see how he holds up to that. Maybe shortly before supper, and we could eat in the restaurant together afterwards.
Looking up at the fifth floor windows, Adam decided that he had left Joe alone long enough, so he headed back upstairs. His brother was sleeping soundly when he entered the room, so, leaving both Joe’s bedroom door and the French doors wide open, Adam took a book out onto the balcony, where he could catch the slight breeze, and began to read. He hadn’t been there more than an hour when he heard Joe calling him and went at once to his brother’s side.
“So, what did you decide?” Joe asked eagerly, rising on his elbows.
Adam slid him gently down and pulled up a chair. “I haven’t made a decision yet, Joe.”
Joe was crestfallen. “But, Adam, you promised.”
Adam tapped his brother’s forearm with his index finger. “To think about it—and I have, but I have not yet come to a decision. There are some things I need to check out first.”
Curiosity flickered in Joe’s eyes. “What kind of things?”
“First, I have to more fully evaluate your strength,” Adam said with a smile, almost knowing what his little brother would say next.
“Oh, that’s easy; I’m doin’ great, Adam. I’m strong enough, honest I am.”
Adam shook his head, amused by the predictability of younger brothers, this one in particular. “There is nothing honest about that assessment. It is based entirely on what you want to be true. It may be correct, but you’re going to have to prove it to me.”
Joe looked thoughtful. “Well, okay. How do I prove it?”
“First, I’m going to get you dressed and take you out to the garden,” Adam explained. “If you’re not up to that brief an outing, there is no way you can tolerate a trip to New Haven.”
That test seemed fair and reasonable to Joe, and he was eager to demonstrate that he was strong enough for a simple walk in the garden. Adam had only said, “First,” though, so that meant there were other tests to be passed, too. “Then what?” Joe asked.
Adam chuckled. “One step at a time, all right? I’ll get your clothes.”
Joe was the perfect picture of cooperation as Adam helped him sit up and assisted him in dressing in a shirt and trousers. After a brief stop by the bathroom for both brothers, they headed out to the garden and began strolling leisurely through the beautiful blooms. Concerned for his brother’s stability on this first extended jaunt since leaving the hospital, Adam insisted on holding Joe’s elbow. Joe didn’t think he needed the support, but he made no objection.
Despite the slow pace, after awhile Little Joe had to request that they sit on one of the garden benches. Adam eased his brother down and then sat beside him. “More tiring than you thought?” he asked.
Joe nodded, but lifted his chin with determination. “Not more than I can take, though. Besides, it’s all that time in bed that saps the strength out of a fellow. You should know that, Adam.”
It was Adam’s turn to nod, for his own experience with enforced bed rest had taught him the same lesson. “I do know that,” he admitted, “but there are still limits to what someone who has been as ill as you were can handle, Joe.”
Joe licked his lips nervously. “Yeah, but this is my first time out, Adam. I’m bound to be a little shaky at first, but I’ll be stronger tomorrow. Try me again then, okay?”
“Okay,” Adam agreed. “Do you feel like sitting here or on the verandah awhile longer or would you prefer to go upstairs and lie down?”
Though Joe didn’t realize it, the question was another test, one he passed with flying colors, in Adam’s view. “Oh, I’d rather stay here,” Joe answered honestly. “It’s cooler outside.”
Adam smiled, pleased to see that the brief walk had not so exhausted his brother that he felt a need to lie down. They sat side by side, enjoying the fragrant scents wafting toward them on the gentle breeze and chatting conversationally until the sun started to dip toward the horizon. “Getting close to supper time,” Adam suggested. “Feeling hungry?”
“Yeah, I kind of am.” Joe sent a mischievous grin in his older brother’s direction. “See? Being up and out is good for me, helps work up that appetite you’re so worried about.”
Chuckling, Adam stood and helped Joe to his feet. “Since we’re already downstairs, shall we eat in the dining room?”
Something in Adam’s face must have given him away, for this time Joe recognized the query as a test. “Absolutely, big brother!” he declared with energy. “Just like we’ll do in New Haven.”
Adam had to laugh. Sometimes the kid was just too sharp for him. “Come on,” he said, guiding Joe toward the back verandah and helping him up the short stairway.
They shared a delicious meal in the main dining room, and for once Joe ate almost everything on his plate, though he had again selected a light repast. Adam was satisfied that this test, at least, had been successfully passed. After the meal, Joe admitted, somewhat reluctantly, that he was tired, and he submitted without complaint to being put to bed as soon as they returned to their suite. As Adam pulled the sheet over him, Joe couldn’t resist asking one more time if Adam would take him to Yale.
Adam wagged a remonstrative finger beneath his brother’s nose before sitting down to answer him seriously. “I’m still not sure, Joe. In fact, it will probably be tomorrow afternoon before I make a final decision, so stop nagging, all right? I’ll tell you as soon as I’ve made up my mind.”
“All right,” a frustrated Joe muttered, “but you sure make it hard for a fellow to sleep, not knowing.”
“Oh, you’d better sleep,” Adam admonished with a sardonic smile. “A restless night will not work in your favor, my boy.” Laughing at the alarmed expression on his brother’s face, Adam turned him gently over. “Seriously, Joe,” he said as he administered what was becoming a nightly rubdown, “if you have trouble resting—for whatever reason—just call. I can give you a sleeping powder.”
“Thanks, but I don’t think I’ll need it. I was just—well, just . . .”
Adam quirked a crooked smile. “Tightening the thumb screws?”
Joe tittered. “Yeah, something like that.”
Adam patted his brother on the shoulder. “Sleep well, Joe.”
Joe did sleep well and when he awoke, he did his best to look chipper and cheerful. “Good morning, big brother,” he said when Adam came in to find him already awake. “I had a good sleep, and I’m feeling really—”
“Persuasive,” Adam interrupted with his Cheshire-cat smile. “You’re feeling really persuasive.”
Realizing he’d been caught, Joe shrugged. “Yeah, but I am feeling good, Adam. Why don’t I get dressed, so we can have breakfast downstairs?”
“All right, let’s do that,” Adam agreed. He first bathed his brother, as he had every morning, and helped him tend to his personal needs before assisting him in dressing, allowing Joe to do a little more for himself this morning than he had before. As they breakfasted downstairs, he could tell that Joe was trying hard to look better than he really was, but even taking that into account, the boy seemed much improved. Maybe he needs this kind of incentive, Adam mused. Maybe light activity will speed his recovery more than if all he has to look forward to is lying around, reading and resting.
“Shall we go out to the garden again this morning?” Joe suggested after finishing his meal, which for the first time had included a slice of bacon with his scrambled egg. “I’m ready for another walk, big brother.”
Adam snickered at the obvious attempt to sway his decision. “You can have a brief one,” he told Joe. “I need to check on some things outside the hotel, and I want you lying down before I leave.”
“What kind of things?” Joe inquired, brow wrinkling.
“Well, the train schedule, for one thing, in case we do travel tomorrow,” Adam said, not wanting to reveal too much.
Seeing that informational quest as an indication that Adam was leaning the direction he wanted him to, Joe agreed at once.
Upstairs after their walk in the garden, Adam removed Joe’s shoes and shirt and let him stretch out on the top of the sheets, instead of tucking him in, as before. “If you need the water closet before I get back, get up slowly and carefully,” he cautioned, “and sit on the edge of the bed ‘til you’re certain you won’t be dizzy.”
When Joe acknowledged the instructions, Adam left the hotel and walked up to the corner of Elm and Belmont. Turning left, he went about half a block to the Centennial depot of the Pennsylvania Railroad. On inquiring about train schedules, he learned that a train for eastern destinations would leave at 10 p.m. on Tuesday. Adam was a little disappointed that the departure time was that late. He’d been putting Joe to bed shortly after supper each night, but maybe it wouldn’t hurt the boy to stay up a little later one night, especially if he got some extra rest during the afternoon. Putting him in his berth that late should insure that Joe would be tired enough to sleep through the entire trip, but leaving at ten would rush Adam himself a bit. He’d have only about three hours between the train’s arrival in New Haven and the meeting of Yale’s alumni on the campus that morning—barely enough time to get to the hotel, register, have breakfast, take a bath, shave, dress for the meeting and get his brother settled. Traveling at night would be better for Joe, though, and, therefore, worth the sacrifice.
Adam felt fairly certain now that the trip would not be overly tiring for Joe, but what about Commencement itself? A full day of activities was slated, quite possibly more than Joe should attempt at this early stage. Still, the hotel would be nearby, just two blocks off campus. If the boy appeared tired, he could take him back and put him to bed at any time.
Adam walked around the neighborhood awhile to give himself time to mull over all the factors involved. If only he could ask a doctor’s advice, but having made himself odious to the doctors at the hospital, he felt he couldn’t return there, and to consult a stranger, some doctor unfamiliar with Joe’s case, would provide him no real peace. Suddenly, he thought of Dr. Havershaw at the Yale Medical School. What a relief it would be to have him examine Joe and get some reassurance that he’d made the right decisions regarding the boy’s health. Adam knew he would get a completely honest evaluation from the professor, and if there were problems, Joe might even be better off in New Haven, where Dr. Havershaw would feel a more personal concern for the brother of a former student. Adam would not, of course, mention the possibility of another examination to Joe, who had no trust whatsoever in doctors at the moment and wouldn’t welcome being “poked and prodded” by anyone except his own brother. A few days’ stay near the seashore might be good for Joe, too. If nothing else, it would get him away from the stifling heat of Philadelphia, which according to the Public Ledger, was experiencing the highest temperatures in eighty years.
Checking his watch, Adam noticed that it was nearly noon, so he hurried back to the hotel. Joe was sitting up in bed, reading the dime novel Adam had bought him, but he immediately set the book aside when his brother walked in. “Did you decide yet?” he asked, and then bit his lip as he remembered Adam’s admonishment to stop nagging.
Adam seemed unperturbed by the query this time, though. “Let’s go down to dinner and talk about it over the meal.”
Joe rolled his eyes. “Would it really kill you to just say yes or no, Adam?”
Adam twirled his tongue around the inside of his mouth. “Yup, pains me mightily to say anything but ‘maybe.’” He drew Joe’s shirt back on and while Joe was buttoning it, he tied his brother’s balmorals. Then he ran a comb through Joe’s pillow-mussed curls and helped him up.
Joe could barely contain his curiosity long enough to select his food, and as soon as their orders had been placed, he began to wheedle. “Come on, Adam. How long are you gonna keep me in suspense? I don’t think that’s real good for me, you know—probably upset my digestion or something.”
Adam laughed, knowing how little it took to turn Joe’s attention off a meal. “It probably would, at that! Okay, buddy, no more suspense. Unless I see something today to change my mind, we’ll plan to travel to New Haven tomorrow.”
“Whoopee!” Joe cried. Other diners turned in their chairs, as Adam, embarrassed, shushed his exuberant little brother. Joe gave him a sheepish grin. “Sorry, but I am happy enough to shout, Adam.”
“You might want to hold that shout until you hear the conditions,” Adam advised with an arched eyebrow.
Joe frowned. “Conditions? Aw, come on, Adam, what kind of conditions?”
Adam folded his arms on the table and looked seriously into his brother’s questioning eyes. “Joe, I am still concerned about the trip being too long for you this soon.”
“No, Adam. I’ll be fine. I—”
Adam held up a hand for silence. “Hear me out. Because of that concern, I’ve decided to purchase tickets for the train leaving at ten tomorrow night. You’ll go to bed immediately and spend the rest of the journey lying down, hopefully asleep.”
Joe grumbled a little about not being awake when they passed through parts of the country he’d never seen before, but Adam remained adamant and Joe gave in fairly soon. In his heart he knew Adam was right. He really wasn’t ready yet for a long train trip, and if sleeping through places as fascinating as New York City was the price he had to pay to make sure his older brother didn’t miss his first chance in ten years to reunite with fellow students, then it seemed a small return for all Adam had already given up for his sake.
TWENTY-EIGHT
Following breakfast the next morning, which Adam had insisted on their taking in the suite, he announced that he was going out for a while. “You are to stay in this room and rest,” he told his brother.
“Where you goin’?” Joe inquired.
“I have several errands to attend to,” Adam replied. “First, I want to purchase our tickets, so we’re assured of getting the train and berths we want.”
“Well, that won’t take long,” Joe said. “Depot’s right across the street, isn’t it?”
“Basically,” Adam admitted, “but I need to go downtown, as well, Joe. I need to take some cash from the bank for the expenses of the trip, among another things. Now, can I trust you to stay put?”
“What? No adventures in Shantyville?” Joe chuckled. “It’s a big temptation, brother, but I’ll try to resist.”
Adam regarded his brother with a serious expression. “I mean it, Joe. No further than the balcony. If I’m detained, you can go downstairs for dinner, but use the elevator.”
“I’d rather wait for you,” Joe said at once, “and you don’t have to worry, brother; I’ll be good”—he flashed a quick grin—“present or no present.”
Adam smiled. He did have a purchase or two in mind for his younger brother, but he said nothing.
“I guess I’ll put the time to good use by packing my bag,” Joe said as he wiped his mouth with his napkin.
“You’ll do nothing of the sort!” Adam admonished sharply. “Absolutely no lifting, young man.”
“Oh, for goodness’ sakes, Adam,” Joe sputtered, tossing the napkin to the table. “Since when is a shirt a heavy weight?”
“Since eleven days ago,” Adam responded dryly. “Mind what I say, boy. I will pack for you after I return, and you will ‘put the time to good use’ by resting up for the trip.”
Joe’s lips drooped in a petulant pout. “You are no fun at all, older brother.”
“And you, younger brother, are not up to what generally passes for ‘fun’ in your book,” Adam remarked dourly. He pointed an authoritative finger at his brother. “Rest.”
“Yes, sir,” Joe grumbled.
“See that you do,” Adam admonished again. Getting up from the table, he pushed the cart into the hallway and continued to the elevator. Exiting into the lobby, he went first to the hotel desk to inform the clerk of their plans to be in New Haven for a few days. “We do wish to retain the room, however,” he said, “and I’d like to pay in advance to secure it.”
“Very good, sir,” the clerk demurred, taking the money and making a note in his registry book. “Oh, there are two letters here for you, Mr. Cartwright,” he added, reaching into a cubbyhole behind him.
“Thank you,” Adam said automatically. As he moved back toward the elevator, he stared at the envelopes, one addressed to him and one to Little Joe in their father’s neat script. Though he felt a genuine dread of what his letter might say, Adam knew he needed to read it before doing anything else, in case what was written necessitated a change of plans, and certainly Joe would want to read his right away. Joe, after all, had nothing to fear from Pa. Retracing his steps, Adam returned to the suite he shared with his brother.
Joe was reclining on the padded chaise, but he pulled up when the door opened. “Hey, you back already?”
Adam placed his black hat on a side table and walked toward his brother. “I haven’t left yet. There were letters from Pa waiting downstairs. Here’s yours.”
Joe sat up and reached eagerly for the letter, tore it open and began to read, while Adam settled himself in a plump-cushioned armchair and opened the one to him. As they read, the expressions on their faces were markedly different, however. Adam’s somber countenance revealed that his letter contained caustic words of reproach, while Joe’s face glowed with the love he felt pouring from each line:
My beloved Joseph,
How concerned I was to learn of your recent illness and how grieved I am that I was prevented from being with you when you needed me most. It appears that you are now out of danger, for which I thank God, and your brother Adam feels that you do not need me at this time. However, if you wish me to come to you, Joseph, you have only to send me word, and I will be there. Your brother will not deny you this—or he will answer to me, as I have so informed him in his letter. I would cherish hearing from you personally as soon as you feel able to write.
Please be assured that I will provide anything required for your comfort during your recovery. I will be forwarding a letter of extended credit to the bank in Philadelphia, to insure that you need lack for nothing. Do not hesitate to ask your brother for anything that would ease your convalescence or speed your recovery. Let me spoil you a bit, son, as it is all I can do from this distance.
Adam has told me that you and he have encountered some difficulties, but he seems to feel the two of you can work out your problems if you are allowed time together to do so. I realize that you may feel very vulnerable right now, Joseph, perhaps unable to withstand your brother’s arbitrary decision, but if you are in any way dissatisfied with your current circumstances, please write me, and I will come at once to personally assume your care.
Mere words are inadequate to express my sentiments as I write this to you, son. I yearn to be with you, to hold you in my arms and impart to you my strength in your hour of weakness. If you—not Adam, but you—feel that it is best for me to deny myself that joy for a brief season, then I will do so. I do hope that I will hear from you soon, so that I may be assured of your contentment and your continuing improvement. I remain
Your loving,
Pa
As Joe looked up, smiling, he noticed his brother’s downcast countenance, and his eyes clouded with concern. “Something wrong back home?” he asked anxiously.
Adam glanced up lethargically. “What? Oh, no, no. Everything’s fine back home.” He returned his letter to its envelope and placed it inside his coat pocket.
The lines creasing Joe’s forehead only deepened. “You wouldn’t keep things from me, just ‘cause I’ve been sick?”
Adam came to his brother’s side and rested a reassuring hand on his shoulder. “No, it’s nothing like that. I just got the written equivalent of a ‘very necessary little talk’ from Pa, that’s all.” And it hurts worse than if he’d tanned me!
Joe cocked his head, regarding his older brother with eyes wide with amazement. “What on earth did you do, brother?” Unlike him, Adam never seemed to get in trouble with Pa, and he couldn’t help wondering what could possibly have gotten back to Pa to land his brother in this much hot water now.
Adam sat at the end of the chaise and took a deep breath. “Pa’s upset with me because I didn’t wire him about your illness or the surgery. I sent the news by regular mail, so it would be too late for him to do anything about it.”
“Oh.” Joe’s eyes fluttered to the side, as if he were fearful that a direct gaze would reveal too much. “I wondered why he—why I hadn’t heard from him ‘til now. Didn’t seem like Pa, but I never figured he just didn’t know. Just thought he was busy, with political meetings and such.”
“He’d never be too busy for you; you know that.” Adam placed a hand on his brother’s knee. “I’m sorry, Joe. I didn’t mean to cause you concern. I probably overstepped my bounds in keeping things to myself, but—well, I had reasons, but they seem like pretty selfish ones now.”
Joe looked back at his brother. “So we could work things out? Pa said you’d written him something like that.”
“Well, yes, that was my reason,” Adam admitted. “Like I told you before, I want a chance to make up for how miserable I made you.”
“Adam, I haven’t been miserable,” Joe objected. “Not then, not now.”
“And I still think you’re being overly generous,” Adam stated, “but we won’t argue about that now. The important thing is how you feel. Do you want me to send for your pa, boy? ‘Cause I will, if you need him.”
Joe pressed his lips together in thought. “I miss him,” he admitted. “Hoss, too, but I knew I would when I left home.”
“You’re dealing with a little more than just homesickness now, Joe,” Adam said gently. “If it’s Pa you need, then I want you to have him.” Even if it ruins our chance to come together. He waited for Joe’s decision, trying not to let his anxiousness show.
“I think you’re takin’ real good care of me, Adam,” Joe said finally, “and I guess I’d rather we did just go on as we are. Pa’s got things he needs to be doin’ back home, especially with the convention comin’ up, and maybe you and me do need some time to work at gettin’ along better. I can’t say I think you were right, keepin’ things from Pa—or from me, either—but mostly, you’ve done right by me.” He smiled brightly. “I’ll write Pa and tell him that, okay? See if I can’t get you out of some of that hot water. Pa says he wants to hear from me as soon as I feel up to writing.”
“Well, presumably, since you feel up to an eight-hour trip to New Haven, you’re strong enough to lift a pen,” Adam said wryly.
Joe grinned. “Yeah, I can do that while you’re out—if you’ll loan me some stationery.”
Adam released a deep, throaty laugh as he stood up. “Oh, I’ll gladly donate to the cause of getting me back into Pa’s good graces.”
Joe’s high-pitched giggle followed Adam as he walked toward the desk. “There’s a change,” Joe teased, “me getting you out of trouble!” He swung his legs to floor and stood up carefully.
Adam smiled as he opened the desk drawer and took out three sheets of stationery. He had to admit the shoe was usually on the other foot, but he really could use his little brother’s intervention this time. “Incidentally, I didn’t write Pa about the circumstances under which you left the hospital. He just thinks you’d improved enough to be dismissed.”
“We’ll just let that be our little secret, brother,” Joe said as he sat down at the desk. “Like I’ve tried to tell you many a time, Pa don’t have to know everything.”
“I seem to recall arguing that point a few times,” Adam said, “but I’m willing to test your theory this time, little brother.” He gave Joe’s curly head an affectionate tousle. “Well, I’ll head out now. I’m glad we talked, but this has put me a little behind schedule, so don’t wait to have dinner with me. You eat downstairs, and I’ll get a bite downtown.”
“Okay,” Joe said, nibbling on the end of the pen.
Adam stared at the blank page. “Lay it on thick, huh?”
“As only I can, brother,” Joe promised.
After purchasing the train tickets, Adam caught a horse car and rode downtown. Reading his father’s letter a second time while he rode, he decided that it wasn’t all bad news. Though Pa had held his eldest suspended over a roasting fire through several painful paragraphs, he had ultimately agreed to stay home “unless Joseph is dissatisfied with your cavalier treatment,” and he had promised to send a letter of credit to the bank, to cover Joe’s medical expenses and anything else the boy might need. That help was sorely needed, for Adam had incurred unexpected expenses, and while he didn’t begrudge Joe the money, even if he had to pay it out of his own pocket, having the extra funds to draw on would mean he could do more for the boy. Pa’s letter had made it clear that his baby boy was to be pampered, no need—or even want—to go unmet. “This is no time to practice your renowned New England frugality,” Pa had written. “Be expansively generous with him, and this time I do mean financially, as well as with your heart.”
Getting off the streetcar at the familiar Eighth Street and Chestnut stop, Adam walked a block to the Bank of the Republic, where he had deposited his funds on arriving in Philadelphia. Discovering that the letter of credit had already been transferred to his account, he withdrew a larger amount than he had at first intended, so that he would have funds available for some additional pleasures for his little brother.
His next stop was the Western Union Building, where he sent a telegram, apprising Pa of his sons’ trip to New Haven and where they might be reached for the next few days. Then he wired the New Haven Hotel, praying they would have accommodations for him and Joe. Though Adam had originally made reservations before leaving the Ponderosa, he had cancelled them while Joe was in the hospital, believing that they would be unable to attend Commencement. Though messages tended to receive prompt replies here in the East, Adam elected to do his shopping first and drop back by for the reply before having dinner.
He headed for Market Street, his prime target the gargantuan dry goods store of Hood, Bonbright and Company, where he felt certain he would find the specialized clothing he was seeking. Sure enough, on the fourth floor he found a wide assortment of bathing clothes and selected a set for both himself and Little Joe. He had been hoping to make a short trip to the seashore as a surprise for Joe, and Pa’s letter of credit had made it possible for him to do so without worrying about the added expense. As he started to leave the store, he snapped his fingers, thinking of another item his brother would need for Commencement. As attached as Joe was to that straw hat, it really wasn’t quite the right accessory for the gray suit he would undoubtedly wear to the ceremony, so Adam bought a stylish gray bowler.
Clothing purchases taken care of, Adam stopped by Claxon, Remson and Haffelfinger to pick up another dime novel for Joe, who would have some time to kill at the hotel in New Haven, while Adam attended his alumni meeting. He’d noticed that Joe had already half-finished the one he’d bought him last week and seemed totally disinclined to read Ivanhoe for himself, preferring to hear his older brother read it aloud.
“We have the latest Frank Starr American Novel,” the clerk told Adam when he saw him looking at a table of dime novels. “Just out today and selling like Centennial waffles.”
“Is this J. Thomas Warren a decent writer?” Adam inquired, examining the cover when the clerk handed him the slim booklet. “I’m not well acquainted with the dime novel genre. This is a gift for a youngster.” A prideful demurral, of course, and one that would probably have earned him a punch in the snoot from the “youngster,” if Joe heard himself called that, but Adam didn’t want the clerk to think that this was his normal choice of literature.
“Oh, excellent, sir,” the clerk bubbled, tapering his enthusiasm as he added, “judging by what I hear from our younger customers, that is.” Obviously, he, too, wanted to be seen as a connoisseur of finer literature.
“Well, at any rate, I can be sure the boy doesn’t have this one,” Adam said with a smile, “if this is, as you say, the first day it’s been on sale. I’ll take it.”
“Very good, sir. Anything else?”
“Possibly,” Adam replied. “If you’ll hold that, I’d like to look around a bit more.”
“Take as long as you like, sir.”
Adam wasn’t sure what to buy for himself. Something light, for reading on the train or in odd moments when his brother was napping, but he didn’t want to waste his time with dime-novel fodder, either. He finally settled on The Poet at the Breakfast-Table by Oliver Wendell Holmes. Though he’d read most of the pieces when they came out in the Atlantic Monthly, it would be nice to have them bound in a single volume, and Holmes’ sophisticated humor should lighten those long hours of travel and keeping an eye on Joe.
After dinner he returned to the Transcontinental Hotel, where he presented Joe with his new book, having left the clothing purchases at the hotel desk downstairs to be sneaked up after Joe went to bed. After expressing his thanks, Joe immediately opened Old Ben Manx; or, The Secret Dispatches, but Adam took the book from him before he could read a single paragraph. “That goes in your carpetbag, to be used in New Haven,” Adam dictated, wagging his finger under Joe’s nose.
“Aw, Adam, it looks good,” Joe pouted, “and I gotta do something, since you won’t let me help pack.”
“I’m glad you mentioned that, little brother,” Adam said with a smirk, “because I have just the job for you.” He put his arm around Joe and helped him up from the chaise. “Go find your bed and hold it down for me while I pack.”
“Adam, I’m gonna be sleepin’ the whole way to New Haven,” Joe complained. “I don’t need to sleep now, too.”
“You look tired,” Adam said, his eyes more serious. “I think you would profit by lying down ‘til suppertime, and I insist that you do.”
Grumbling that he wasn’t sleepy, Joe went to his bedroom and stretched out on the bed. Though he was determined to stay awake, enforced stillness had its usual effect, and he soon dozed off. Adam moved quietly about the room, selecting the clothes and grooming accessories his brother would need and packing them, along with Ivanhoe and the new book in the carpetbag Hoss had given Joe for his birthday. He slipped downstairs long enough to pick up the packages he’d left there and included them with his own luggage.
Joe never knew he was gone and, characteristically, when suppertime arrived, he had to be awakened from the sleep he had declared he didn’t need. “I’m not hungry, Adam,” he mumbled from the folds of the sheet covering him. “You go on without me.”
“Nothing doing,” Adam snorted, jostling Joe’s shoulder. “I will not have you going to sleep with nothing on your stomach.”
Joe groaned. “You’re gettin’ bad as that other brother of mine, always pushin’ food on me.”
“I have not done that,” Adam denied, “although, to use one of our brother’s colorful expressions, you have not been eating enough to keep a bird flying.”
Joe yawned, stretching his arms above his head. “So buy me a couple of popcorn balls to eat on the train.”
Adam lightly slapped his brother’s cheek. “You’re going to sleep as soon as you get on the train, remember? And I most certainly am not going to put you to bed after eating nothing but popcorn balls. Surest road to nightmares, in my opinion.”
Joe eased up to a sitting position and grinned. “I was kidding, but I’m really not very hungry.”
“Just eat something,” Adam urged. “I laid out your ranch clothes for the trip, so go ahead and get dressed in them and we’ll head down to the dining room.”
Joe cocked his head. “Won’t you be ashamed to be seen with me, dressed like that when you’re in a suit?”
On his way out the door, Adam spun around. Leaning back against the doorjamb, he folded his arms. “Nope. You can even sleep in your clothes tonight without hearing your older brother make a fuss. That way I won’t have to wake you so early in the morning.”
Joe chuckled. “Brother, sometimes you seem almost human.”
Adam rolled his eyes and went to his room to freshen up before going downstairs to supper. When Joe saw that his brother had changed into his familiar black shirt and pants from home, he looked surprised. “Trying to go beyond ‘almost human’ to fully so,” Adam quipped.
Joe grinned back. “You’re making real progress, brother. Now, if you’ll just agree to sleep in those clothes . . .”
“I intend to,” Adam returned with a smile. “I can clean up after we get to New Haven.”
“Brother, I’m thinkin’ there’s real hope for you.” Joe crooked his arm through his brother’s elbow. “Let’s see how these city folks take to a couple of cowmen in their fancy dining room.”
After eating, Adam gave in to Joe’s earnest entreaties to go outside into the garden for a while. The fragrant air was refreshing to both of them, and there was really little point in telling the boy he had to rest until time to go to the depot. Better to let him stay up, even past his normal bedtime, so he’d sleep well on the trip.
About 9:30 the Cartwright brothers walked to the Centennial depot, where Adam immediately parked his brother on the nearest bench. Though the walk had been a short one, Joe was obviously fatigued. “Joe, are you sure you can make it?” Adam asked as he squatted in front of his brother. “It’s only a five-minute walk from the depot to the hotel on the other end, not much more than what you just did, but I don’t want you to strain yourself.”
“I’ll be fine,” Joe insisted. “Will you quit worrying and sit down, Brother Hen?”
With a grin Adam took a seat beside his brother and, draping an arm across the slim shoulders, intoned solemnly, “Cluck.”
Joe panned the waiting room, surprised to see it so crowded at nearly ten o’clock at night. “I figured we’d be about the only folks on the train at this hour.”
“It wouldn’t be profitable to run it if that were the case, Joe,” Adam pointed out, with no hint of mockery in his voice. “Most eastern travelers, unless they’re new to the experience, prefer to travel at night and avoid the boredom of long journeys. Nothing to see they haven’t seen a hundred times before.”
Joe grinned. “Sort of like us wishin’ we could sleep through a cow gather, huh?”
Adam laughed. “Something like that.”
Soon it was time to board, and when they did, Adam immediately steered Joe toward the sleeper car. “Aw, Adam, I think I could sit up a bit,” Joe cajoled. “After all, I did all that extra resting this afternoon.”
“Nope. Bedtime for you,” Adam insisted, seating Joe on the lower berth and stooping to remove his shoes after stowing their carpetbags beneath the berth. He eased Joe down and tucked him in. “I’ll be sleeping right above you. Call if you need anything.”
“Okay,” Joe said, yawning in spite of himself. “You turning in now, too?”
“Soon,” Adam said. “I’m going down to the parlor car to read, just enough to unwind, and then I’ll be hitting the hay, too.” He tapped Joe’s nose. “You had better be asleep when I get back.”
Adam made his way to the parlor car, with the Holmes book in hand, and settled into one of the comfortable, tufted chairs. Half an hour’s enjoyable reading was sufficient to relax him, so he made his way back to the sleeper car, checked on Joe, who was snoring softly, and hitched himself up into the berth above his brother. Wish the kid was still spry enough to jump up here, he moaned as he drew his long legs up into the cramped space. A healthy little brother was definitely a luxury when traveling by train. Well, it was a luxury he would just have to do without this trip—and all the way back to Nevada, as well. He had no intention of allowing Joe to put any strain on his abdominal muscles until he was safely home and had been examined by dear old Dr. Martin.
Adam tended to be a light sleeper, compared to either of his younger brothers, and he was always especially so whenever he was watching over one of them. When he woke, sometime in the middle of the night, he cocked an ear, sensing something wrong. Hearing soft moans coming from the lower berth, he immediately sprang out of his own bed to see what was causing his brother’s discomfort. He squatted at Joe’s side, pulling the dark curtains aside. “Joe, did you call me?” he asked anxiously.
Joe made no response, though he continued to moan at intervals. Looking more closely, Adam saw that his brother had fallen onto his right side, jarred by the movement of the train, and was lying directly on his incision. The discomfort hadn’t been enough to wake him, thank goodness, but it might if allowed to continue, so Adam reached into his upper berth and, taking the pillow, propped it against that tender side after rolling his brother back to a more comfortable position.
“Excuse me, suh, but is dere sumtin wrong?” a dark-skinned porter asked, coming up to Adam.
“No, not really,” Adam answered. He explained briefly what he had done and why. “Would it be possible to get another pillow?” he requested.
“Yassuh, I get you one right away,” the porter replied. Adam thanked him and made certain to reward the man’s helpfulness with an appropriate tip. He stood in the aisle, watching Joe for a few minutes, noticing that the pillow did help keep the boy from rolling about in the berth. Then he climbed back into his own bed and after listening carefully for any further sounds from below, fell asleep once more.
He woke to the sound of the porter moving through the aisle, announcing the next station. It wasn’t New Haven, but Adam recognized the name and knew that the train was about thirty minutes from their destination. He got up, slid down to the aisle and began the arduous task of waking his younger brother. When Joe finally responded, Adam observed dryly, “Now I know you’re feeling like your old self—hard to get to bed, harder to get up.”
“We in New Haven already?” Joe asked, yawning.
“Almost. Let me help you sit up, and I’ll put your shoes on.”
Once he was upright, Joe giggled at the sight of Adam’s stocking feet. “Don’t you think you ought to get your own on?”
“I hadn’t forgotten,” Adam grunted, reaching under Joe’s berth to pull out two pairs of balmorals. Once both of them had their shoes on and had combed their hair, more by feel than sight, Adam led his brother into the parlor car and eased him into a chair. “Almost there now,” he said. Taking a chair opposite Joe, he pointed out the window to a smooth-sloped elevation about three to four hundred feet high. “That’s West Rock, about two miles from New Haven.”
“Pretty country,” Joe observed, looking at the bushy-topped trees lining the foot of West Rock; the green fields before it, divided by dark rail fences; the picturesque farmhouses and the steeple of a small white church set against the golden blush of the rising sun.
“It was always a pleasant walk from New Haven to here,” Adam said, smiling in fond memory. “We’d often make up a party and walk out on a Sunday, just to enjoy the exercise and the fresh air.”
Pleased that Adam was sharing a memory with him, Joe wanted to ask for more detail, but the train was pulling up to the depot, and he knew Adam didn’t have a lot of time to spare. He followed his brother, who was carrying both carpetbags, down the aisle and out onto the platform.
“Tell me if you need to stop and rest,” Adam urged as they headed down the street.
“I think I can manage to stay on my feet for five minutes,” Joe grunted with a roll of his eyes.
“Okay, follow me,” Adam ordered.
They soon arrived at the hotel, and Adam told Joe to take a seat in the lobby while he checked them in. Joe shook his head at the over-solicitousness of Brother Hen, but he had to admit that sitting down did feel good. Adam was back soon. “I’ll take our bags up,” he said. “You just sit here, and I’ll be right down, so we can go to breakfast.”
Joe nodded in agreement and spent the time looking around the lobby. It was nicely appointed and comfortable, although its décor was simpler in style and less elaborate than that of the Philadelphia hotels. Bet they don’t have the bathroom right in the suite here, he observed, surprised that he would miss what had at first seemed to him so strange. Adam had been right; it was downright convenient, having it so close, especially when a fellow didn’t feel up to a trip down the hall or out back, the way it would have been at home.
Having taken time only to place each carpetbag in the appropriate bedroom and to lay out his suit, Adam wasn’t gone long. He guided Little Joe toward the dining room, which had a homey appeal. White wallpaper, twined with vertical rows of ivy vines sat above thigh-high white paneling. That, along with the bank of tall windows with white lace curtains across the front side gave the room the feel of a garden bower. The food, while not quite up to the standard of the Transcontinental, was tasty, at least in Adam’s opinion. He didn’t think Joe was qualified to pass judgment yet, since he’d only ordered a bowl of oatmeal and a glass of apple juice. Don’t watch every bite he eats, Adam lectured himself. He’s right; you are getting as bad as Hoss. He smiled wryly. Of course it would be easier to resist tallying up every bite if the kid would give just him more bites to count!
They went upstairs after finishing the meal. The parlor to this suite was very small, holding just a square table between a settee and side chair in Queen Anne style, both upholstered in autumn gold, while the curtains at the room’s single window were cream with gold roses. After taking a quick peek at his bedroom, sparsely furnished with only a bed, washstand and starkly plain chest of drawers, Joe sat down in the chair, while Adam got into his robe, gathered his grooming gear and headed down the hall for a bath and shave.
When Adam came back, looking refreshed and slightly damp about the ears, he took an appraising look at his younger brother, who was sagging in the chair, his head falling to one side. “You look tired. Do you want to undress and go to bed?”
“Naw, I’m not that tired,” Joe insisted, straightening up. “I might lie down after while, but I’m not going back to sleep.”
Adam’s lips curled in a dubious expression. “Uh-huh.” He knew that as soon as Joe put his head down, he’d be out, so he decided not to argue the point. “I’ll turn down your bed, just in case.”
“I won’t need that, Adam.” Joe sounded a trifle perturbed.
“Just in case,” Adam said and went into Joe’s room to turn back the covers and plump up the pillows. While he was there, he unpacked his little brother’s carpetbag, mostly so Joe wouldn’t be tempted to do it himself, but he brought Joe’s slippers back with him and knelt down to remove the boy’s street shoes.
“Why are you doing that?” Joe demanded.
“Just to make it easier if you should decide to lie down,” Adam explained. “I don’t want you bending over, straining those muscles.”
As his older brother placed the slippers on his feet, Joe gazed warmly at him. “You think of everything, don’t you, Adam?”
Adam gave his brother’s leg a pat as he stood up. “Well, I try.” He went into his own bedroom then and dressed in the suit he’d laid out earlier and combed out his damp hair. When he was ready to leave, he set the new dime novel on the small end table next to Joe. “In case you’d like to read while I’m out,” he said.
“Everything,” Joe said softly.
“Hmm?”
Joe’s smile reflected how loved and protected he felt. “You think of everything,” he amplified. “Really—everything.”
Adam touched Joe’s shoulder with a tender hand and started to leave. Then he laughed at himself. “Well, I did almost forget something pretty important.” He came back to face his brother. “If you need me, for any reason, just ask the desk clerk to send a message to Alumni Hall. That’s where I’ll be.”
“I won’t need you, Adam,” Joe said, “but thanks for thinking of that, too.” He gave a short laugh. “That way, I’ll know where to come looking if you stay out too late.”
Adam tousled Joe’s hair. “I’ll be back for dinner, you scamp; wait for me.”
“I will,” Joe promised. “Have a good time, Adam.”
Adam found it hard, however, to think about having a good time as he walked the short distance to Alumni Hall on the campus of Yale University. He’s tired, he scolded himself, too tired. Can’t believe I let him talk me into this. I’m supposed to be the strong one, the one member of the family impervious to that kid’s cajoling charm. Yeah, impervious, you bet. Getting so he can wrap me around his little finger as easily as he does Pa. Not quite as easy a prey as Hoss, though, at least not yet; that’s one comfort—mighty small one.
When he reached Alumni Hall, however, and found himself caught up in greeting old friends and hearing them express how glad they were to see him again after all these years, the encroaching guilt faded to the back of his mind, and Adam began to let himself enjoy the moment. After all, it’s what Joe would do, Adam concluded, so he decided to take a lesson from his baby brother’s book for once and felt forced to admit that the kid did have a knack for getting the most out of life, a kind of inner wisdom, one might even call it. A chance to learn that wisdom was one of the reasons he’d given God for sparing Joe’s life, so it was time to start putting the lessons into action now that God had blessed him with the opportunity.
The meeting began promptly at half past nine, and the next couple of hours were devoted to offhand speeches from Yale graduates. Adam himself spoke of his fond memories of life on the college campus, the lessons learned and the friendships formed. He mentioned how thrilled he was to see so many familiar faces already and how he hoped to renew still more acquaintances as the Commencement ceremonies continued.
When all the alumni who wished to speak had done so, the obituary record was read. Many of the names were familiar to Adam. Seventy-five Yalensians had died in the Civil War, and while he hadn’t known them all personally, others were close friends, young men with whom he’d competed for school honors, rivaled in sports matches—and lost in a far deadlier contest. These were the memories Adam always tried to avoid: lives snuffed out when their flame was brightest, others irreparably altered by the loss of limbs and livelihood. Somehow, though, it seemed right to remember them here today, in this way; somehow the load seemed lighter as he sat with men who shared it. He’d always known that many hands made light work when dealing with ranch chores; funny he’d never made the application to his inner load. That, too, was something Joe, that intuitively wise child, had sensed. Keeping the horror inside had made the pain last long past the time it should have ended, just as the boy had said on Independence Day. It was time to let it go, and the reading of the obituary was, for Adam, the first moment of release.
The program moved on to the oration, given by a graduate unknown to Adam. Since the man was only an adequate speaker, Adam found his flowery words less moving than the simple list of those who had passed on, whether in battle, through illness or, for those most blessed, of old age. Following the oration, officers of the alumni were chosen for the following year. As most of the candidates were unknown to him, Adam voted only for the orator to speak at the next alumni meeting and was pleased when his choice, a man of his own graduating class, was chosen. Without doubt, next year’s oration would be more worthy of an attentive ear than the one presented today.
The meeting broke up just past noon, and the alumni scattered, rushing to nearby restaurants for a dinner that was already late. Several fellow students invited Adam to join them, but he turned down all invitations, explaining that his brother was expecting him. “Well, at least join us down at Eli’s for a game of billiards this afternoon, Adam,” urged the classmate who had been elected orator for next year’s alumni meeting. “I haven’t had a decent game since our senior year.”
Adam laughed. “I’ll try to oblige you, Peter, if I can get away, but prepare to be trounced.”
Peter groaned. “The same old Adam, I see. I was hoping that they didn’t have billiard tables out west yet, so you’d be out of practice and I’d have a chance for a change.”
Adam placed his palm on his friend’s firm shoulder. “Ah, but we do have billiard tables ‘out west,’ spoopsey, and I assure you I’m up on my game.”
Peter feigned offense at Adam’s use of the old college slang term for a silly fellow, but he punched Adam lightly in the ribs to signify acceptance of the joke. “I’ll look forward to seeing you at Eli’s then.”
“If I can,” Adam promised. He spotted the medical professor he’d hoped to see across the room. “If you’ll excuse me, I’d like a word with Dr. Havershaw.”
He came up behind a gray-haired man about a head shorter than he. “Dr. Havershaw?”
The man turned, dark eyes lighting with pleasure. “Adam! Adam Cartwright,” he said, enthusiastically pumping Adam’s hand. “I knew you the minute you walked forward to address the group. What a pleasure to hear your fine speaking voice once more! How long has it been, my boy?”
“Ten years since I graduated, sir,” Adam replied, returning the handshake with warm affection. Though he had taken only a few science courses under the professor of medicine, they had been among his most enjoyed classes, for Dr. Havershaw was an excellent teacher.
“And what finally brings you back from the wilds of—Nevada, isn’t it?” the doctor inquired.
Adam smiled. “Yes, Nevada, though it’s not so wild as you might think. I came back here for the Centennial.”
Dr. Havershaw nodded. “Oh, of course. Hoping to get there myself, now that the term has ended. Well, it’s marvelous to see you again.”
“And you, sir,” Adam said, hurrying to add, “but I came over because I need your help, your medical opinion, that is.”
Dr. Havershaw’s eyes showed immediate concern. “You’re not ill, are you, my boy?”
“No, sir,” Adam assured him quickly, “but I traveled to Philadelphia with my youngest brother, Joseph—he’s just nineteen—and he became gravely ill while we were there, with an inflammation of his appendix.”
Concern wrinkled the doctor’s face. “Oh, dear. That is serious. You consulted a doctor, I presume.”
“Of course. He advised admitting Joe to the hospital, and Dr. Thomas Morton, whom I’m sure you know, if only by reputation, operated on him there twelve days ago—to remove the appendix.” Adam paused to give the professor time to absorb the unexpected news.
Dr. Havershaw leaned forward, his interest intense. “The result?”
“The surgery was successful,” Adam stated, “and Joe seems to be doing well.”
The dark eyes now reflected sympathy for the man standing before him. “I’m certain it was difficult for you to leave him behind, especially in a public hospital, but the Pennsylvania is one of the finest in the nation and—”
“I didn’t leave him behind, sir,” Adam interrupted to say. “He’s here with me in New Haven.” He hesitated, took a deep breath and continued. “You may think me a fool—and I’m not altogether sure myself that I did the right thing, but I removed him from the hospital—against the advice of the resident in charge of his case in Dr. Morton’s absence.”
If Dr. Havershaw was surprised, his face, while grave, did not reveal it. “May I ask why?”
“You’re better acquainted with public hospitals than I, sir.” When Dr. Havershaw nodded, Adam asked, “Would you want a member of your family in such a place?”
“No, I would prefer to care for a family member in my own home, of course, as most people of means do.” The doctor laid a supportive hand on his former student’s shoulder. “Were I far from home, as you are, however, I would not hesitate to seek medical help at any public hospital of good reputation, as that one certainly is. Were you dissatisfied with the care young Joseph received?”
“No, not really,” Adam admitted. “I will be eternally grateful to the surgeon for helping my brother, and I believe Joe received the best care available. I simply came to believe that having him with me would enhance his recovery. There were certain policies of the hospital that were disturbing to the boy—and to me, for that matter—but Joe was becoming increasingly distraught, to the point that it was affecting his recovery, in my opinion.” He explained briefly the hospital policies that had upset his brother and told about his attempt to escape.
Dr. Havershaw nodded in slow acknowledgement. “Those are much the same policies in effect across America, Adam. I’ve advocated the need for change for some time, but change happens slowly.”
Adam pinched the bridge of his nose. “That escape attempt is what motivated me to remove Joe from the hospital. I believe I did the right thing, and his improvement since leaving there seems to bear me out. Now I’ve let that boy wheedle me into bringing him here for Commencement, and I’m concerned that the trip may have been too much for him this soon after surgery.”
Dr. Havershaw’s eyebrows, which were a shade darker gray than the hair on his head and his beard, drew together. “Well, I definitely wouldn’t have advised it, Adam. If you had wired me, I would probably have suggested leaving your brother in the hospital until you could return.”
“I would not have left him,” Adam declared, “although missing Commencement would have been a bitter disappointment.”
More friend than physician now, Havershaw smiled. “He’s very important to you.”
Adam licked his lips and gave a nervous nod. “More than I know how to say. I realize I’m asking a huge favor, but would you be willing to examine him, see what you think of his current condition, give me some advice on his further care? There is no one whose opinion I would respect more, sir.”
The professor laughed. “I see that your young brother comes by his ‘wheedling’ talent legitimately.” He clapped Adam on the back. “You know I’d do anything for you, my boy, though you did hand me a disappointment in not choosing medicine as your career. Certainly, I’d be happy to examine your brother. In fact, I could do that right now.”
“I don’t want to keep you from your dinner, sir,” Adam demurred. “The hour grows late. Just come at your convenience.”
“Nonsense!” Professor Havershaw proclaimed with another hearty clap to Adam’s shoulder. “It will take only a few minutes, and my family is quite used to my arriving at all hours for meals. Where are you lodging?”
“At the New Haven Hotel.”
“Ah, a pleasant block or so away—excellent choice.”
“Thank you for agreeing to come, sir,” Adam said as he fell into step beside his old professor. As they walked toward the hotel, beneath the shady elms arching over the street, Adam and Dr. Havershaw briefly brought each other up to date on the changes in their lives in the last ten years. Adam talked about the growth of the Ponderosa and the engineering and architecture projects in which he’d been involved, while Dr. Havershaw mainly spoke of the birth of his three grandchildren and what joy they had brought into his life.
When they entered the hotel suite, Joe was not in the parlor. “Must have decided to lie down,” Adam told the professor. “He seemed very tired, even after sleeping the entire trip.” He walked into Joe’s bedroom and found him sound asleep, linen sheet reaching about halfway up his bare chest. The shirt was lying across the foot of the bed and his slippers sat in the floor at the side, but no other clothing was in sight, so Adam presumed that his brother was still wearing his trousers and socks. He touched Joe’s shoulder and gave it a gentle shake.
“Guess I was more tired than I thought,” Joe said, stretching his arms above his head. As he looked up at Adam, he suddenly became aware of the stranger standing at his brother’s side and pulled the sheet up to his shoulders.
Adam knew he was in trouble the minute he saw his brother trying to hide behind that sheet. Really shouldn’t have sprung this on him. It was too late to correct the mistake, however, so Adam decided to bluff his way through it. “Joe, I’d like you to meet Dr. Abraham Havershaw.”
Joe cut a suspicious glance at his brother. “Doctor?” he asked, his tone laced with acid.
Adam cleared his throat. “Yes, an old professor of mine.”
Joe relaxed a little, although he still felt awkward at being caught half-dressed and in bed in the middle of the day. After another cutting glance at Adam, Joe tried to sit up, clutching the covers to his chest. “Oh. Well, nice to meet you, sir.”
As Adam helped his brother up and placed