She gathered her things from the car and walked through the grand marble foyer, past the dining room, and into the kitchen where she found the cook. “Liana, it seems that Dr. Apter is going to be working later tonight than I thought. Can you please keep dinner warm? I’ll let you know when we’re ready to eat.”
Without waiting for a response, she exited the kitchen’s back door and crossed the stone path to Robert’s office. As she briskly approached, she saw a man sitting on the chair outside the carriage house. His pained face was illuminated by rays of the sun as it made its way lower in the sky. “Do you have someone inside?” she asked, her tone soft.
The man began to nod. “My wife is in with the doctor.” His face was drawn, and his jaw clenched. She felt a wave of sympathy run through her.
“What time was her appointment?” He gave Ruth a distrustful look. “I work with Dr. Apter, at Emeraldine Hospital in Manhattan. You can talk to me, it’s okay.”
“Three o’clock,” he said, looking relieved to have a professional to talk to. “I didn’t want it to come to this, I really didn’t. But last week she locked herself in her room for two days, and when I finally got her out, she came at me with a knife.” His eyes filled with tears. “I’ve always treated her like a princess. How can a wife do that to her own husband? I just want her back again, back the way she was.”
Ruth shifted her gaze away from him and down the lawn to the water’s edge, to hide her shock. She had assumed Robert was simply in the midst of a session, but he was fastidious about keeping those to a single hour, and it was almost five thirty.
Was it possible that he was performing the new transorbital lobotomy?
There was no way he would attempt this, for the first time, without even telling her, was there? And, if he was, what about Edward?
“Sir, may I ask your name?”
“Darner. Thomas Darner. My wife in there”—he gestured toward the closed cottage door—“is Alice.”
“Mr. Darner, did Dr. Apter tell you how long to expect the appointment to take?” Ruth tried to sound casual in spite of her now racing heart.
“He said the procedure would be quick, and then maybe an hour for her to recover enough to walk to the car. I know I have been here for quite a bit longer than that . . .” Mr. Darner’s tears started to flow, and Ruth grabbed his hand in her own as much to soothe him as to steady herself. She knew Edward was teaching today in his new position at Columbia and she didn’t think Robert would consider performing a lobotomy without him.
Still, she was always a hospital superintendent first, and she knew that this moment required her to reassure the family of the patient. She looked Mr. Darner squarely in the eye for the first time. “I am certain that Dr. Apter will help your wife. He can work miracles. How about if I just pop in and check on her progress for you?”
Even with the shades drawn, she could see the outline of her husband standing above Alice Darner, and he seemed oddly still. She knocked gently on the door so as not to startle him. If he was performing the procedure, she knew it required delicacy and a steady hand. In a calm and even tone, she asked, “Robert, everything okay in there?”
“Ruth?” he confirmed. “Excellent! I need a second pair of hands. Please, please come in quickly!”
“I’ll just be a moment,” she assured Mr. Darner as she fumbled slightly to open the door while obscuring his view. She slipped inside, taking a deep breath to slow the throbbing in her temples.
“Ah, thank goodness!” Robert said excitedly. “I’ve done it! I am essentially finished, just have to remove the instruments, but I need to take a photo. I’ve been standing here for what feels like forever trying to calculate how to keep these things in place and reach the camera.”
Ruth sucked in a short, sharp breath, feeling as if she might faint. She had heard Robert describing the surgery endlessly for the past six months, but somehow, she hadn’t imagined it would look quite like this. There he was, her husband, standing over an examination table. On it, Alice Darner was draped in a floral sheet from the neck down. Was this one of their guest linens? And the “instruments” Robert had chosen—those couldn’t possibly be the ice picks from Ruth’s own freezer? Had he decided to perform this procedure on a whim? And did he really leave this poor woman in such a state for even one second more than necessary, simply for a photo?