My Name Is Mary Sutter by Robin Oliveira Read Free Book Online Page A

baby who had failed to breathe. She could never bring herself to care about ordinary things, like whose pie was better at the Sunday potluck, or whose husband she might covet should the opportunity arise, or what anyone was saying about an early winter or an early thaw or if the wheat would blight this year due to the heavy rains, or if the latest couple to marry had any chance of happiness. Perhaps it had been foolish to come to the theater, where potential death was being offered as entertainment, though Mary knew that no matter what she did or where she went, she would always see mortality where others saw frivolity. As a dozen swords sailed effortlessly onstage between the performers, all Mary could think was how precarious life was.
    The performance ended, and Mary rose. She lowered her handkerchief, the opening Thomas had been waiting for. He touched the tip of his program to her gloved hand and said, “I am terribly sorry about your father.”
    It was this simple gesture that immediately made her like him. He did not say, How do you do , or Pleased to meet you. Instead, he said the essential thing. She liked his directness; she liked that he did not inquire why she was out so soon; she liked that he hadn’t even introduced himself.
    Thomas guided her by her elbow out of the auditorium to the street, conscious of the whispering their pairing induced in the other patrons. Mary Sutter? Out so soon? And who is that young man she’s with? As they started up State Street, his fingers moved to the small of her back, and for the first time in a long time Mary felt that someone was taking care of her .
    Thomas was pleased to have made himself so easily acquainted with his new neighbor. He’d been nervous how she might take his overture so soon after the loss of her father, but she seemed untroubled by, and even grateful for, his boldness. He glanced over at her, uncertain what to say now that they were alone. In the twilight, Mary Sutter appeared to be older than her age. The midwife , everyone said of her. But there were no claims to her affection among any of the young men of Albany. They did not attribute the cause to intimidation, but rather named the distraction of the more beautiful twin sister. All this Thomas had learned one night at the Gayety Music Hall, where he had gone last week to make himself known. He would make his mark among the society of men in Albany; he would not feel unsettled, as his mother did, by the change from the country. Her preference for Ireland’s Corners was something she hid; the country was generally viewed as unsophisticated, except as a summer escape from the dust and heat. Thomas liked the city; he liked the novelty of the noise and the ready proximity to theater and dining saloons. He liked being out and about. He liked being a young man.
    Though their families came from the same village, they were barely acquainted. The Fall family had lived on Loudon Road, the Sutters on Shaker Road. The Falls were Presbyterians, the Sutters Episcopalians. And though the Sutters had once owned an orchard, Nathaniel’s sale of the family land and Amelia’s practice had rendered them acquaintances only. Amelia had not delivered Thomas; another midwife had, for Thomas was born just as the twins had confined her to her bed. He was three months older than Jenny and Mary, but now he felt much younger. Years in the company of women in agony had conferred on Mary an aura of wisdom; she inspired respect and trust; it was this, Thomas thought, that made him feel so young.
    The whitewashed brick homes and St. Peter’s Church reflected the last of the light; it was an Indian summer night of hypnotic beauty. At the top of the street, a few farmers’ wagons lingered in the market square; soon coal fires would acidify the air until the springtime winds scrubbed the skies clean.
    In the park by the Boy’s Academy, they rested on a bench. Just across Eagle Street the pillared white marble of the medical college