The Babe Ruth Deception by David O. Stewart Read Free Book Online Page B

infection would set in. When Nylander mentioned amputation, Fraser turned cold. From the war, he knew the emotional price of amputation. It seemed so much worse for a young girl. His beautiful girl, disfigured forever. He could see that leg, dimpled with baby fat, take its first step. He told Nylander not to mention it to Eliza or Violet. Not unless he had to.
    Fraser paused outside Violet’s room. He tried to wipe away his anxiety over all the wrong turns her injury could take. She would feel his anxiety if he brought it in with him.
    Eliza was sitting in the straight-back chair that was the best the hospital had. She had a pillow from home to soften the seat. Both hands held the purse in her lap. She rose as he entered. “Have to fly, dear,” she said. “Another of the leads is trying to bail out on that miserable farce at the Orpheum.” She kissed Violet on the forehead, her hand cupping their daughter’s still, pale face. She smiled. “I think you’ll find the patient doing well.” She nodded at the window. “Keep that open. The smells in here are horrid. They’re hard on her.” She gave him a businesslike peck on the lips.
    The departure of Eliza, the natural focus of any group, left a silence. Those who remained had to reorient themselves. Fraser asked Violet how she felt, how she slept, her appetite, the sensations in her leg. He inspected the dressing. He made a note to talk to Nylander about weaning her off the morphine. They had used it too much in France.
    Finally, Violet pulled up the sheet and protested. “Isn’t Doctor Nylander the one who’s responsible for me?”
    â€œDon’t try that, young lady. I answer to a higher authority. You can’t expect me to face your mother without having formed my own medical opinion.” Fraser’s eye fell on an extravagant new bouquet on a far window ledge.
    â€œA new secret admirer?” he asked with a smile, lowering himself into the punishing chair. He squirmed in an effort to nudge the pillow to a comfortable position. He wasn’t looking forward to twelve hours in the chair. The bouquet must be from his colleagues at Rockefeller. No, it would be from one of Eliza’s Broadway types. It had that look-at-me quality that theatrical folks bring to everything.
    â€œIt’s from your old friends, Daddy. The Cooks.”
    â€œThe Cooks?”
    Violet allowed herself a small smile and ooched herself higher on the bed. “I think it’s really from Joshua, but he signed it from his whole family.”
    â€œReally.” Fraser walked over and inspected the bouquet more closely. He read the note. “Do you remember Joshua from that day? What he did?”
    She shook her head. “Not till we got to the hospital.”
    â€œThe first one?”
    She nodded. “I was afraid of him at first. He had all that dust and filth on him. Like some terrible creature from another world. And I didn’t expect to see a colored man. But he was so kind.”
    â€œIf ever there was a knight in tattered gabardine, it was Joshua.” He nodded at the bouquet. “I suppose we should be sending something to him. I’ll talk to your mother about it.”
    A soft knock came at the door. Fraser opened it to find Joshua Cook. His gray plaid suit, set off with a burgundy pocket handkerchief, clung to his slim figure. He held a fedora in one hand and packages in the other.
    After a moment of surprise, Fraser recovered. He offered a hearty handshake along with apologies for not thanking Joshua properly for rescuing Violet. While Violet joined in the thanks, Fraser retrieved a chair from another room. When he returned with an equally spartan scrap of furniture, Violet held a Whitman’s Sampler box of chocolates. Next to her lay a book with two high-society figures on the cover. She had raised herself higher on the pillows. Fraser sat on the new chair, across the bed from