“He’s sweet on her, you know,” Francine said as we watched them go.
“Lord, Francie, I know that, as does the whole world.” I laughed.
“I s’pose you’re right,” she laughingly agreed.
“Daddy’s sure glad your brother is workin’ for him,” I said, smiling over at her. “He’s talked about what good work he does, and he’s glad to have Rusty there to race his boats whenever he needs him to. He says he’s a real good driver. And with more experience, he’ll be great.”
We settled back into a comfortable silence and watched Rusty and Olivia dancing the Turkey Trot. As I watched them, I couldn’t help but feel a little sad about Daddy not wanting to race as much as he once did. There was no denying that he had a lot on his mind these days. The stress showed in the little lines that etched their way onto his face. With the decline of the economy, people weren’t indulging in expensive luxuries as freely as they had. As a result, Daddy was building fewer boats. For that reason, my parents had to reinvent the wheel to help keep their heads above water. They began hosting boat races, and as more and more national and international drivers participated, the crowds grew. Races or not, things were leaner than they had once been when Miami was flooded with winter millionaires who had more money to spend than ways to spend it.
I sat up to take a sip of my iced tea and saw Neil and Laura Aldrich step onto the dance floor. Unlike most of the young women wearing the latest one-piece bathing suits, or two-piece suits with shorter shorts, Laura still wore the old-fashioned sailor-style suit. It didn’t matter what she wore, though; she was beautiful and tiny, like a porcelain doll, which made me feel large and awkward next to her. As Neil pulled his wife into his arms and began waltzing, I settled back into my chair and thought about the summer before.
Neil arrived in Miami two days after the hurricane. He was one of several doctors summoned by Miami’s well-loved doctor, James Jackson, to assist in taking care of the hundreds of injured. Neil wasted no time in answering the call.
Most able-bodied people were helping in whatever way they could, and my family was no different. Since the kitchen at the Miami City hospital suffered great damage, we’d helped in preparing food for the patients and staff. There were so many patients— more than seven hundred in all—but only a limited number of doctors and nurses caring for them. Making matters even more difficult was the fact that the hurricane destroyed the power lines. The lack of electricity forced staff to revert to using kerosene lanterns. On more than one occasion, I had been asked to hold a lantern as a doctor cleansed and sutured a patient’s wounds, and even during nightmarish amputations.
Before the removal of a patient’s limb, I had the unpleasant task of holding a cloth saturated with chloroform over his or her mouth. The chloroform’s sickeningly sweet smell nauseated me to the point that I was afraid I’d either vomit, or pass out on top of the patient. Once, during the removal of a four-year-old’s crushed foot, I did pass out, not because of the smell of chloroform, but because of the stench of the gangrene. Almost as soon as I hit the floor, I came to, just in time to hear the surgeon heatedly calling for someone to drag me out of there. The doctor was Neil Aldrich, and he had no patience for women with weak constitutions—women who couldn’t hold up under pressure. I mumbled that I didn’t need help and stumbled out into the hallway where I promptly threw up. Afterward, while sitting outside on one of the benches, sucking on one of the peppermint sticks kept for young patients, Dr. Aldrich came out to check on me.
“It’s Lily, isn’t it?” he asked as he sat down by me.
I could do no more than utter, “Uh-uh.” He caught me off guard and I was mortified that I’d failed so miserably at my task.
“Had a little trouble in there, didn’t you?” I was too embarrassed to look up at him, but I could hear the amusement in his voice.
“I’m sorry I…It’s just—”
He finished for me. “It’s just that a little girl’s blackened foot is not only enough to overwhelm the senses, but overwhelm the heart as well.”
I finally looked up at him and saw dark brown eyes filled with compassion.
“How do you stand it? I-I don’t mean just the smell, but the horror of it all?” I’d asked.
“Honestly, a lot of the time it’s hard to stand either,” he commiserated with a smile. “But in order to help these folks get better, I have to.”
“Do you ever get used to it?” I suddenly realized this doctor was not unreachable or cold. On the contrary.
“Yes and no,” he replied. “You get used to the smells, and the sounds, and the grotesqueness of the illnesses and injuries, but you never get used to losing someone. At least I haven’t yet. And I hope I never will.”
I was amazed he hadn’t grown hard, at least not yet. He appeared to be in his early thirties, so perhaps his skin would grow much thicker over the years. For now, the faith people placed in him obviously moved him deeply.
“You’re from here, aren’t you?” he asked.
“Yes. Born and bred.” I smiled.
“I’m a central Florida boy, m’ self,” he volunteered.
“And you’ll go back after you’re done here?”
“Not if I can talk my wife into staying here. She’ll be down in about six weeks or so.”
It was the first time I’d heard about his having a wife and for some reason that bothered me a little. Though he was quite a bit older than I, he had a mischievous little boy’s grin and a certain refined warmth. There was no denying that he would appeal to most women no matter their ages, including me.
“You still in school?” he asked.
“No. I finished high school and I’m working at my grandparents’ hotel on the beach—Miami Beach,” I clarified.
Dr. Aldrich arched his eyebrows. “I’m surprised it’s still standin’.”
“Well, thank the good Lord it is, ’cause it’s housing a bunch of folks who lost their homes. When I’m finished here, I’ll head over there to help with whatever needs to be done today. It’s strange—and scary—how quickly things can change. Our once high-priced hotel, with full-to-capacity rooms reserved by the wealthiest folks, has turned into a kind of boarding house. We offer free room and board to any Miamian who lost his home in the storm and doesn’t have anywhere else to go.”
“I’ve met your grandparents, and your folks, too. Just this morning, your father stopped by with a good amount of kerosene. They’re fine people, Lily. You’re fortunate to have a family like that.” The doctor sounded a little wistful.
“Where are your people?” I asked.
“My mother died in the yellow fever epidemic in Jacksonville, in ’88, when I was just four. My father passed away from a heart attack several years ago. He was living with us when he died. Just went in his sleep. He was lucky, I guess.” Dr. Aldrich looked off toward the hospital’s destroyed gardens as if remembering.
“Well,” he said, pulling his thoughts back to the present and slapping his thighs as he stood up. “I have to get back to the front line.”
I stood up, too. “I’m not due at the hotel for another couple of hours. I can stay here for a while.”
“I have to try to save two fingers on a young mother who nearly had them severed. It’s her second surgery. Then I have to suture a young man’s arm. It was severely lacerated when his plate glass window blew in. It’ll take me a while to sew that up.”
“I’ll hold the lantern,” I offered.