He wanted to be prepared. But it was best to see for himself.
“She’s in the den.”
Ellis removed his hat, gearing up, and Lily led him onward. Dark panels of wood covered the floor and walls, lending the brownstone a gothic feel in the evenings. Tonight even more so, given its widowed guest risen from the grave.
Past the narrow staircase and a small phone table, they entered the den. The scent of lemon polish mingled with that of the aged books that lined two walls of shelves, each stretched to the twelve-foot ceiling. The painting of a cobblestone village flickered above the fireplace.
Geraldine sat upon one of two matching upholstered chairs, staring into the flames. Still in her overcoat, she fingered a button on her long skirt.
“Mrs. Dillard?” Ellis said. When she turned and nodded, he edged forward with eyes narrowed, absorbing the state of her condition. “I didn’t… They said that…”
He faltered for obvious reason. In the amber firelight, aside from her tired eyes and stragglers of her brown hair loosened from her bun, she showed no resemblance to a woman on her deathbed. In fact, given her healthful appearance, any claims of a grave illness seemed part of an elaborate conspiracy.
Lily chimed in to explain. “Her doctor was mistaken. It wasn’t tuberculosis.”
Ellis continued to stare at Geraldine. “When did you find out?”
Geraldine’s hands, weathered but strong, went still as she thought. “Must’ve been a month after leaving for Dearborn.”
“The sanitarium,” Ellis murmured, reconciling the name.
“The director there did some X-rays for me, and some other tests. We call her Doc Summers, even though she ain’t an official doctor. It’s on account of her that my lungs were finally treated for the right infection. Now that I’m well, she’s even let me stay on to give a hand with other patients.”
Lily tried to brighten, an offering of support. “I’m sure they’re grateful to have you.”
Geraldine smiled but with a solemn undercurrent. “It’s been good for me too. Helps to have a purpose, with my husband gone…and now the kids.”
Tough as an ox, her husband wasn’t sick a day in his life, she had told Lily, until he stepped on a rusted nail. He died of lockjaw a week later, leaving a desperate widow to take in sewing and laundry to scrape by with two children.
Lily glanced at Ellis, his face dimming with remorse.
“Why don’t we sit down,” she encouraged him. He gave a half-hearted nod, likely questioning if he was prepared to hear more, but he followed.
As Lily settled into the chair beside Geraldine, Ellis perched on the tufted settee across from them. Hat upon his lap, he ventured, “Miss Palmer said you wanted to speak with me?”
“I do,” Geraldine said, but with a look of warning. “I don’t want none of this in the paper. You hear?”
“Not a chance. You have my word.”
She studied his face. Appearing satisfied, she sat back stiffly and began. “I told that man the kids weren’t for sale. No matter what he saw in that picture. But he persisted all the same. Put fifty whole dollars on my porch…though I barely noticed at the time.” She shook her head—at either the banker’s stubbornness or the fact she had missed such a thing.
“I was having more bad days than good ’round then, and just that morning, I’d coughed enough blood to give me a real scare. I was just so tired all the time, and it was only getting worse. And I thought…maybe this was the Lord’s doin’, sending this person to us right then.” Geraldine’s eyes glimmered with moisture. When she dropped her gaze to her worn black shoes, Lily recognized a fear in her, an expectation of being judged.
“He just had so many reasons,” she went on, “how he and his wife could give the kids a good life. Better than I ever could, sick or not. But they had to stay together—Ruby and Cal. That’s what I told him. I made him swear.”
The room went quiet for a stretch, save for the crackling of firewood. Ellis noticeably swallowed, and Lily realized then how much her own throat had constricted, in spite of already knowing the story.
Geraldine gained sudden conviction. “You gotta know. I’d sooner die than spend one cent of that man’s money.” She looked at Ellis, almost daring him to challenge her.
“I believe you,” he stressed.
“As do I.” Lily’s voice verged on a whisper.
Slowly Geraldine nodded, the tension around her mouth relaxing.