The Piano Teacher

Chapter 17

For the next week, Charlotte spent all her time in that drab hotel room with Doctor Baker.

He was very kind to her, which she appreciated, but she wanted more than anything for him to give up on her. It would be easier for everyone. But of course, being the man of medicine he was, he disagreed.

He usually came to her twice a day, every day, for about an hour each time. He had to shuttle between her and her uncle, who was still very sick. She always asked about her uncle, but Doctor Baker would never give many details. "He's still feverish. Not as much as before, but it's a problem."

The worry she harbored for her uncle just made her feel worse. She wanted to be with him, even if it meant risking her own life, but it was impossible.

When Doctor Baker was around, he'd listen to her heart with a stethoscope and help her do some exercises. These exercises started out so simply that the very first one was just getting her to sit up in bed. Doing so was harder than she expected, as the movement made her feel lightheaded, and her heart raced.

"There's no point in this," she said breathlessly. "I'll mend, and then I'll fall ill again. I've been sitting up and down in this bed for a week already, and for what?"

Doctor Baker felt the pulse in her wrist, his pocket watch in his other hand, keeping track of how much it raced from a lying to sitting position.

"Now, I won't hear any more of that talk," he said, snapping shut his watch and looking at her patiently through his round, metal-framed spectacles. "It might not feel like it, but you've already made a significant improvement from earlier this week. How does your ankle feel?"

"Painful," she replied. Though she hadn't thought much about her broken ankle, the additional pain it gave her seemed like the cherry on top of all her woes.

The doctor went to the foot of the bed and lifted the blankets, revealing her bare feet and ankles. Charlotte felt a little embarrassed, as she had never let a man see that part of her body before, but she knew this was a medical matter.

Her right ankle and foot, save for her toes, were wrapped with bandages solidified with plaster of Paris, making it impossible to move the joint. The doctor examined the skin surrounding the plaster cast. "You don't look to have an infection, which is good, but the skin around the cast here is irritated. A cool, wet cloth should help, but don't get the plaster wet. But before all that, let's see if you can stand."

"What?" she said, surprised that he would suggest such a thing. She already felt exhausted from sitting up.

"You're at the point where you can manage it, as long as you don't put your weight on your bad ankle, of course. Even if it's just for a few seconds, you need to exercise your heart, or you'll be in this bed for far longer than need be. Come on, I'll help you."

She looked up at the tall man with great hesitancy. Though she wanted very much to give up and die, she knew there was a good chance she wouldn't die and would instead stay stuck in that bed forever, which horrified her worse than death.

She had come to trust Doctor Baker and his advice. He had none of the impatience and irritation her old doctor in Minneapolis had. She felt cared for and that the doctor genuinely wanted her to get better. She hated to think that she would disappoint him, her uncle, her father, and herself by not being able to do so.

She grabbed Doctor Baker's hands, and he helped lift her to her feet. She put all her weight on her good leg, and she discovered she had almost no strength in her muscles. Her knee almost buckled, and the doctor had to wrap an arm around her waist to support her. "I can't do it," she gasped.