Meriwether needed, not that someone clever and wise had passed. Instead his research nearly destroyed it. This woman had made the doctor’s existence a living hell, tormented with guilt over what he’d done trying to save the town. The older woman stilled, her face falling into desperate lines. She hurried to answer and found the mayor, Agnes Meriwether, pacing with an agitated air. Wilson failed to finish his final request, as the last breath shivered out of him.Ī rap on the door jolted her upright. It thickened her throat as she clutched his hand tighter. He reached out, and she curled her warm fingers around his, noting the brittleness of his bones and the age spots on the back of his hand.
Either way, she had no medicine for him, and she lacked the skills to operate, as he’d said they once did, correcting broken hearts with a facility so advanced that it sounded like magic. She considered the possibilities quickly: pulmonary embolism or coronary failure. So what’s the diagnosis, girl? Wilson asked with his eyes, not his voice.
When she found him pale and breathless, clammy in his bed, she touched his forehead. The silence scratched at her, so she clambered down from the loft, curious but not alarmed. Normally he would’ve shouted her awake by now, loud with speculation about the latest round of tests. Morning crept across the floor in buttery streaks, sunlight warming the wood of the cottage Tegan shared with Dr.
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