The Roswell Legacy Frances Statham (mini ebook reader .txt) 📖

two men who could perform such an operation with success. And they’re both in England—old Gaylord Runyard in Harley Street and the doctor he trained to take his place eventually.”

Andrew stood beside Allison and listened. “Isn’t that the man Dr. Forsyte studied under?”

“I don’t know,” Allison answered.

Edward Meeks lifted his head. “You’re not speaking of Dr. Charles Forsyte, the London surgeon, are you?”

“Yes,” Allison answered. “But he’s in Washington now.”

“Then that’s extremely fortunate for you. That is, if you can persuade him to come immediately.”

“Do you think he’d be able to do the necessary surgery?” Allison asked.

“Yes, of course. He’s as competent as Dr. Runyard.”

“But what about the trains?” Allison inquired. “I wouldn’t want to put him in danger, too.”

“I understand the president is sending in soldiers to make sure nothing like this happens again, Allison,” Andrew assured her. “They should arrive within the next twenty-four hours.”

In the end, it was Morrow who wired Charles to come. And Charles knew that he could not refuse. For this was the first time in his life that his elder daughter had ever called on him for anything.

And so, with Nathan spending the month in Kentucky, he was able to cancel his schedule at the clinic and leave for Chicago immediately. As Barge took him to the train station, Charles held on to the medical kit containing the blue steel surgical instruments that had become an extension of himself.

The same sounds on the same track accompanied Charles as he sped toward the lake city, home of extravagant wealth and excruciating poverty, which resided side by side. But it was the medical facility that he was thinking of—that and his acquaintance, Edward Meeks, who had received his medical diploma at the same time as Charles. But instead of remaining in England, Edward had returned home to become a part of the medical complex of the University of Chicago. It would be good to have him at his side for the operation.

By the time Charles arrived in Chicago, the strikers and hooligans were nowhere in sight. Soldiers in army uniforms stood guard, making sure that another tragedy did not occur. So, without incident, Charles left the train and walked into the station, where Andrew was waiting for him.

“Dr. Forsyte, thank you for coming,” Andrew said. “Mateo, take charge of his luggage.”

As usual, Charles preferred to keep the medical kit in his hand, but he allowed Mateo to take his other baggage to the waiting carriage.

“Would you like to go to the house to rest first, Dr. Forsyte?”

“No. I’d rather see the senator immediately. I presume Dr. Meeks has stopped the bleeding as much as possible?”

“Yes. But Rad needs more blood. It was a disappointment to Dr. Meeks that Morrow’s blood didn’t match.”

An hour later, a well-scrubbed Charles stood over the bed where a weak Rad lay. He had examined his patient and the records that Meeks had kept. Now it was up to him to assure Rad of his chance for recovery. But before he could do so, Rad held up his hand. “I’d like to speak with you privately, Charles, if Dr. Meeks doesn’t mind.”

Meeks nodded and left the room.

“You’ve seen Allison?”

“No, I came directly to you. But I understand she’s resting in one of the suites down the hall.”

“There’s something I need to discuss with you, before the operation.”

“Save your strength, Rad. We can talk afterward. I’ve scheduled the surgery for tonight. And I can tell you that you have an excellent chance for recovery.”

“No, Charles. I want to talk with you now.”

Seeing his agitation, Charles nodded. It would not do to get him upset further. “All right. What is it, Rad?”

“Do you still love Allison?”

“That’s hardly an appropriate thing to talk about, right now.”

“But it is. Tell me the truth, Charles. Do you still love Allison?”

“I suppose I’ll always love her. But she’s your wife. And I have no intention of making it difficult for either one of you. Once the operation is over, I’ll leave. And she’ll be at your side for your recuperation.”

“But if I don’t survive, Charles, you must promise me one thing. Take good care of her. She was mine for a while. But now she belongs to you again.”

“That’s not true. You’ll both grow old and gray together. Now that’s enough of this nonsense. I want you to rest. I’ll be back to see you shortly before we take you to surgery.”

Charles left the room, wrote up orders for the nurses, and then, without seeing any other member of the family, went with Edward Meeks to his apartment and promptly fell asleep in the guest room.

By five o’clock, he was up. After taking a small meal and a cold bath, he was refreshed. And in the cool of the evening, he walked the two blocks to the hospital with Edward.

By the time he arrived, the family was in the waiting room: Allison, Morrow, and Andrew.

“Charles, thank you for coming,” Allison said, greeting him with outstretched hands. “Do you think he has even a ghost of a chance?”

“I won’t deny that he’s gravely ill, Allison. And I would feel better if he hadn’t lost so much blood. But he’s strong and he stands a good chance of recovering, if the damaged spleen is removed.”

“Which you intend to do,” Andrew said.

“Yes.”

He looked at Morrow. “Thank you for telegraphing me in time.”

“You understand how much I love him.”

“Yes. He’s the only father you’ve ever known.”

Charles looked at Allison. “I’ll do my best for him, Allison.”

“I know you will, Charles.”

He left the three and went to join Meeks.

Within an hour, Charles was in the operating theater where medical students had already gathered in the glass-partitioned gallery to observe the operation.

Once again, the steel scalpel was poised in the air; the anesthetized Rad waited for the initial incision. The operation became one of many that Charles had performed. And the tangled family relationships were forgotten as Charles and Edward Meeks sought to save Rad’s life.

Carefully, surely, Charles proceeded, and as the spleen