My Name Is Mary Sutter by Robin Oliveira Page B

“Where has he been?”
    James shrugged. “I have no idea.”
    “You should have dissuaded him.”
    “He is her husband.”
    “He is a seventeen-year-old boy who knows nothing.”
    They stood in the foyer, opposed. The maid padded down the stairs, her gaze skittering between them before she ducked into the kitchen and told the cook that she had better come listen at the door because Miss Sutter was at it again.
    All the way over, James had planned what he would say to Mary in order to put the evening of Bonnie’s delivery behind them. He owed Mary a great deal and wanted to mend the rift, which had seemed impossible only an hour ago. But Jake had given him a legitimate entrée, which he had been eager to take. True, help had been given both ways that evening. Mary had helped with Bonnie’s delivery; he had stopped Bonnie’s hemorrhage. In his mind, the debt was already paid. But this wasn’t completely about a debt. He wanted to help her, as Stipp had once helped him. He gestured with his hat and said, “I was glad that Jake came by, Miss Sutter, because it gave me an opportunity to return. You and I didn’t part on the best of circumstances.”
    “No, we did not.”
    “I have an offer for you. Why don’t you let me speak to Dr. Marsh on your behalf? I know him; perhaps if I recommend you, he might be inclined to rethink his decision.” He was going out on a limb, because he doubted very much that Marsh would take to it, but it was the help he had to offer. And she was skilled. That he himself might not be chosen as Townsend’s surgeon he did not mention. He was going to go to the war no matter what occurred, in any fashion that he could.
    Mary regarded him for a moment. “You want to speak for me?”
    “Yes, with your permission.”
    “The last thing the clerk said to me was that no woman would ever attend Albany Medical College.”
    “A clerk is nothing. I’ll talk to Marsh. You could just as easily have asked me to intercede on your behalf as ask me to apprentice you.”
    “But Dr. Marsh didn’t even return my letters. Three medical schools have turned me down. Why would he change his mind for you?”
    Blevens considered carefully what to say next. He wanted to fully discharge the perceived debt and thereby gain Mary’s trust; here was a way, but not a certain way. He feared her disappointment should he fail, and it was very likely he would fail. “To be truthful, Marsh may not change his mind.”
    “Then I do not want intercession from you. It is ungenerous of you to dangle hope when none exists.”
    How was it that she stirred both exasperation and sympathy at the same time? In her presence, it was like being at war, arousing simultaneous urges both to fight and to run away.
    “Are you always this stubborn?” he asked.
    There was a bout of laughter from behind the kitchen door, followed by a stern warning of reprimand as the door flew open and the maids scattered. Jenny and Thomas emerged from the kitchen after them.
    “Those maids think they know so much,” Jenny said. “Eavesdropping at the door again.”
    “At least they strive to know something,” Mary said, straightening.
    A look flew between the girls, and then just as quickly dissipated. Venomous or sweet, it was difficult to tell which, because Thomas Fall intervened again with news, smoothing the air. They had just been downtown. A phalanx of volunteer militia had arrived on the New York Central Express from Buffalo; the city was filling with soldiers and there wasn’t a room to be had in any hotel. Not even the elegant, expensive Delevan, where they had all greeted Abraham Lincoln at a special levee held there on his way to Washington in February, had any vacancy. And now Lincoln had called for men, and everyone around the state was reporting to Albany to muster in. A crowd had gathered this afternoon at the Capitol, and a band was still playing in the park near the medical school, and the whole of the city was seething with