The Dervish by Frances Kazan

Author:Frances Kazan [Kazan, Frances]
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 9781623160043
Publisher: Opus Books
Published: 2013-12-15T00:00:00+00:00

Part Two

18

It must have been mid-October. The weather had cooled and my studio felt chilly; I was about to return to the apartment to retrieve a shawl when I heard moaning coming from the other side of the door. There was a thud, as if someone had dropped a heavy book. A door slammed, and a woman’s voice cried out in alarm. I hurried next door to find John slumped across his desk and Miss Harrison, phone in hand, calling frantically for help. I ran over and was about to feel his forehead when she pulled me away.

“Don’t touch him.”

A note of panic in her voice stopped me; I saw that she was terrified.

Admiral Bristol had been at a meeting right down the hall. He blustered in, followed by an aide who pulled John upright and put his ear to John’s chest.

“Heart’s still beating,” he said.

“He’s on fire,” said Bristol, laying his palm against John’s forehead. At his touch John’s eyes opened.

“My stomach, sir, I’m going to explode,” murmured John, wrapping his arms around his abdomen.

“Dammit, where’s the doctor?” Bristol grabbed the phone.

“At the French Embassy, sir,” said Miss Harrison.

“Bathroom,” John said, rising unsteadily. The aide, who was young and strong, helped him into the corridor. I started after them, but the admiral put out his arm to stop me.

“Stay here,” he said. “Your sister will need you; it looks like cholera.”

Cholera. The word hit me like an arctic wind. I sank into a chair, my hands shaking, terrified for my sister and her unborn child.

“To be safe, the building must be sealed until this matter has been resolved.” The admiral picked up the phone and barked orders into the receiver. The room seemed to swell with the confidence of his command.

Moments later John returned, his face ashen. Bristol and his aide helped him to the couch and covered him with a shawl. The door flew open. Connie stood on the threshold, and her swollen body seemed to fill the opening. As if in slow motion, she crossed the room. I barred her way; she gave me a puzzled stare.

“What happened?” she said.

“He fainted, the doctor’s on his way, but to be safe you must not touch him,” I said, slipping my arm around her shoulder.

At the sound of her voice John stirred. “Don’t worry, Connie,” he said in a whisper. “Take care of yourself and our baby.”

A tall, gray-haired man strode into the room. Setting his leather bag on John’s desk, he beckoned to Miss Harrison.

“Fetch sugar, salt, and fresh water.”

“Dr. Harrold,” said Connie, “what are you doing here?’

“I stopped to check on you; one of the guards sent me here straight away.”

“John was fine this morning. This happened so fast!” said Connie. The pathos in her voice made me tremble.

The doctor put his hand on John’s head and held it there. “Probably cholera.”

John was muscular. It took three guards to carry him up to the apartment, where they helped the doctor put him to bed. Dr. Harrold showed my sister and me how to apply cool compresses to John’s forehead.

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