The Wedding Journey

“Yes, I felt this same way last time.”

“Are you experiencing any vertigo?”

“Why yes. Yes, I am.”

“That should go away in a day or so as your body grows accustomed to the ocean. Any queasiness or vomiting?”

“A little.”

“Excessive tiredness?”

“Yes, now that you mention it. But I can’t sleep.”

“How about a tingling in your feet?”

“Yes, the tingling definitely kept me awake most of the night.”

“I suggest you spend as much time above deck as possible. It helps. There’s nothing I can do for you. You might want to place a cold cloth on your forehead. Don’t drink any alcohol or eat apples.”

“Shall I bring her back for another consultation?” Mrs. Boyd asked.

“It’s always a pleasure to see you both,” he answered politely.

At a knock, Maeve crossed to usher in another young woman.

“I’m not feeling well,” she told Maeve. “I’d like to see the doctor.”

“He’ll be right with you.”

With his smile in place, Flynn ushered Kathleen and her mother out of the dispensary. In passing, Kathleen inspected the incoming patient with a frown of concern.

Once the door was closed, Dr. Flynn whispered to Maeve, “I made up the tingling feet part.”

Maeve raised her eyebrows in surprise. Kathleen had gone right along with his list of symptoms, making it obvious she’d only come to see the handsome young doctor—and perhaps to warn away his new assistant.

“What can I do for you this morning?” he asked the young woman who’d just arrived. Maeve already had a nagging suspicion that no matter what the complaint, this case would have a similar outcome.

“I fell against a doorpost when the ship tossed. I believe I’ve injured my shoulder.”

“Miss Murphy will help you slip one arm free, so I can examine your shoulder.” He turned away and washed his hands.

The young woman gave Maeve a disapproving glance.

Maeve gestured for her to sit upon the examining table. “What’s your name?”

She unfastened the back of the other woman’s rust-colored satin dress. The fabric was like nothing she’d ever felt, and the buttons were tiny carved ivory disks. Beneath it she wore a fine silk chemise.

Flynn dried his hands and joined them.

“I am Miss Ellnora Coulter. Having just finished school in London, I’m traveling to the States with my parents. My father has investments in Boston.”

Her English was proper with no hint of a brogue. Maeve glanced at Dr. Gallagher to gauge his reaction to the pretty young miss. He didn’t seem interested in anything but her shoulder as he moved close. “I don’t see any bruising. Help her back into her sleeve, Miss Murphy.”

Once her dress was in place, he probed the area with his fingertips. “Does this hurt?”

“Yes.”

“This?”

“Yes, indeed. It’s quite painful.”

Without a warning knock, the cabin door opened and Nora entered, stooping to accommodate her height. Her face was flushed, and she wore an expression of worry and concern Maeve had seen far too often. The surprising thing was that she cradled a bundled apron against her breast.

“Nora?” Maeve said, turning to meet her. “Whatever is…?”

“I was in the storage apartment, searching for a bag of salt, when I moved aside a sack and heard the oddest sound, like a mewling. I thought perhaps a kitten had been closed into the depot of provisions. Just look now what I discovered lying between the sacks of oatmeal, Maeve.”

Her sister lowered the apron to reveal what lay within its folds. Maeve stepped close, and her heart caught in her throat.

An infant, obviously no older than a few hours or possibly a day at most, lay with eyes pinched shut, fists at its face, turning its head this way and that with mouth wide open.

Maeve stared in astonishment.

Chapter Six

“A baby? Nora, you found a baby in a storage bin?”

“Not in a bin. Between bags of oatmeal, almost right out in the open and near the entrance to the apartment. Is the little grah mo chee all right?” After referring to the infant as sweetheart, she handed off the bundle to Maeve.

Maeve took the baby just as Dr. Gallagher joined them. Nora explained again where she’d found the child. “Someone had wrapped a flour sack around her and left her like that.”

He peeled the apron all the way back, revealing the pink infant’s froglike legs and several inches of umbilical cord still attached. Her skin still bore streaks of mucus and blood.

“She’s a newborn,” he said unnecessarily. He glanced at Maeve. She hadn’t seen him wear this look of discomfort before. “I haven’t had much experience with infants.” And he stepped away. “I’ll get a basin of warm water so you can bathe her, and then I’ll listen to her heart and lungs.”

“What about my shoulder?” Miss Coulter called from the examining table.

“Your shoulder will be fine,” Flynn told her. “I think it’s just a little bruising.”

“Perhaps you could call on me tomorrow to make sure I’ve improved.”

“Certainly,” he replied and saw her to the door.

Maeve exchanged a glance with her sister. “An unending stream of young ladies have sought medical attention since yesterday,” Maeve whispered. “The good doctor is obviously prime husband material.”

Nora only had eyes for the baby in Maeve’s arms. “Will she live, Maeve? She’s puny, is she not? You’ve seen a lot of babies born. What do you make of this one?”

“Let’s clean her up and look her over.” Maeve asked Nora to spread out towels on the examining table and proceeded to sponge the infant with clear warm water.