The Doctor's Wife (A German Family Saga Book 1)

Book summary

Amelia’s dreams of adventure are quickly dashed when she is abandoned in Texas, only to find herself married to a ship’s doctor. As their lives prosper, her own search for fulfillment leads her on an unexpected journey toward independence. THE DOCTOR'S WIFE is a historical novel of personal growth and resilience, set in 19th-century Texas.

Excerpt from The Doctor's Wife (A German Family Saga Book 1)

Chapter One

Dear Papa and Helga, doors open and close...

November 5, 1845

The ship’s gangplank slid into the fog obscuring the Galveston dock. Amelia Anton scooped Frau Regina von Ewald up in her arms, practically carrying the grieving woman as they made their way down the narrow wood walkway onto the pier. Herr von Ewald ignored them both, shoving ahead to the waiting carriage. The hood of Amelia’s cape protected her blonde braids from the chill and offered a hidden place from which to stare at black men who appeared and disappeared into the mist, heaving bales of cotton off a nearby freight wagon. The heavy air muted their slow work song and sweat drenched their ragged clothing, even in the bone-aching cold. Southern slavery—as described in the immigrant guidebooks—had been one of her first lessons for her pupil, young Otto.

The boy’s papa, Amelia’s turnip-shaped employer, clambered into the enclosed carriage without turning back to look for his wife, the dear lady responsible for Amelia being hired. Her reason for being in this strange land—as the boy’s private tutor—had died along with her student. Amelia, shuddering at the thought that she may have made a huge mistake, pulled her cape tight against her body and glanced through the back window of the carriage toward the mournful sound of slaves, invisible in the white haze.

* * *

The three of them rode in silence, squeezed into the lurching coach, its wheels making slushing sounds in the rutted street. Freight wagons clanked past and coarse voices shouted commands in English. From under her hood, Amelia watched Herr von Ewald, aspiring merchant prince, staring sullenly at the faded, low-slung buildings, so different from his family’s sprawling estate. Was he hating his older brother for inheriting the family fortune? For sending him to seek his own way in Texas? He leaned forward expectantly when the Tremont House, a broad white expanse hugging the mud street, loomed out of the fog. Black men dressed in spotless white uniforms stood on each side of double doors. Herr von Ewald, who had ignored Amelia throughout the three-month ocean voyage, turned toward her, “If they can’t speak German, you’ll have to get us registered.” He bolted into the hotel, ignoring his wife.

Dear Papa and Helga, all the months speaking English may be about to pay off. Amelia clenched her jaw and stepped from the carriage without waiting for von Ewald’s instructions. She laid her hand on Frau von Ewald’s shoulder as the doormen gently lifted the trembling woman from the carriage.

“Amelia, come talk to these people,” von Ewald shouted.

“Please move madam into the hotel,” she kept her voice low as she spoke to the doormen who averted their eyes as though they were not aware von Ewald was stomping up and down on the hotel’s broad wood porch.

She lowered her head to avoid gazing like a peasant at the sprawling lobby circled by thick white columns. Candles lit a large chandelier hanging from the high ceiling. She nodded to the doormen who settled Frau von Ewald on a long red sofa.

“There you are, Stein,” von Ewald bellowed. “Tell these people who I am.”

Amelia turned to see Dr. Joseph Stein, the ship physician who had cared for Otto and for his mama, rush through the hotel’s broad front doors.

“I asked you not to leave the ship until I could join you.” The doctor kept his voice low; his wiry black hair tousled as usual, his disheveled jacket hanging loose as he bent almost double to glare—eye level—at Herr von Ewald.

Amelia watched a thin man with slick black hair and a pencil-wide mustache rushing across the lobby, clasping his hands at his chest, and nodding at the two men. “Pardon me, gentlemen. I’m Oscar Wilhite, manager of the Tremont House.”

Dr. Stein turned quickly and surprised Amelia by switching into perfect English, “We want to get Frau von Ewald settled very quickly.”

Oscar Wilhite looked around like a man hoping something would happen to call him away from his difficult task. “Please explain to her husband that when a foreign ship comes in, we seclude our guests who are ill until we are sure they aren’t carrying a contagious disease. You understand? It’s just a precaution.”

Amelia was torn between feeling sorry for the manager and wanting to laugh, as his eyes darted toward von Ewald, pacing the lobby like an over-heated bull.

“An isolated room will be fine. Please place her husband in separate quarters.” Dr. Stein’s brows rose, commanding the hotel manager’s understanding. “She needs rest. And send for a local doctor. I want to arrange for her care before my ship sails in the morning for Indian Point.”

Oscar Wilhite nodded, glancing toward von Ewald. Then, holding his head high—eyes avoiding the little German’s angry gaze—he fled toward a door leading off the lobby.

* * *

Frau von Ewald’s room was small, at the end of the hallway and on the backside of the hotel. The only window looked out on a narrow alley. A single straight-back chair sat next to a matching dark oak table supporting a porcelain bowl and pitcher. The dark bed frame towered above the frail woman.

Dr. Stein turned to Amelia. “Will you stay with her? You’ll be in quarantine.”

Quarantine? I thought the poor woman was dying of grief. Papa and Helga would be frantic. I don’t know the first thing about caring for sick people. She sucked in a breath to compose herself. “Do you have to leave? She became so attached to you on the ship.”

“I’m employed by the Adelsverein to travel with the immigrants all the way to Indian Point on Matagorda Bay. The noblemen who organize these immigrant groups assure them that a physician will accompany each vessel. I’ll stay with you as long as possible.”

She turned to answer a soft knock at the door. A young black woman wearing a fluffy white cap and a white apron over a black dress nodded solemnly. “I’m Fannie, your chambermaid. I’ll get what you need and bring you food.” She stepped into the room, a tiny body with strong, over-sized hands folded at her waist, waiting for instructions.

Dr. Stein smiled at the chambermaid, the look in the giant man’s eyes as gentle as when he had spoken to young Otto during his illness. “Please bring enough hot water for a mustard plaster.” He nodded toward Amelia, “and hot tea for Fraulein Anton.”

Just as Dr. Stein finished showing Amelia how to apply the mustard plaster to draw out toxins, a diminutive man with receding black hair, swept into the room. “I’m Dr. Ashbel Smith.” He shook Dr. Stein’s hand, peering all the while with piercing bead-eyes at Frau von Ewald. He bowed slightly to the chambermaid. “Good morning, Fannie. I’m glad you’re here.”

He appeared not to notice her curtsy as if she were greeting royalty. “I hear the patient came in on the brig Johann Dethardt from Bremen.”

“She was our only sick passenger when we arrived early this morning,” Dr. Stein said.

Dr. Smith gazed at Frau von Ewald’s flushed face, murmuring softly, comforting the listless form. He turned abruptly, looked up at the towering doctor. “It’s rare that we have an arrival from Germany with yellow fever. Did you come into another southern port?”

“A brief stop in New Orleans. Not even overnight.”

“If it’s yellow fever, we’ll know soon enough. She’s already very weak.”

“She lost her only child at sea,” Dr. Stein said.

Dr. Smith glanced sharply at Amelia, then turning to Dr. Stein, raised his chin like he was ready for an argument. “I’m convinced yellow fever’s not contagious. Quarantining her is useless. I ate some of the black vomit several years ago. Didn’t harm me in the least. Most people think I’m crazy. Many of them work at this hotel.”

Dr. Stein clasped his hands behind his back, bending slightly at his waist, appearing unmoved by the doctor’s revelation. “In Germany, we’ve had no experience with yellow fever. What treatment, in addition to quinine and mustard plasters, do you recommend?”

“Quinine. Plenty of quinine to lower the fever, keep down the muscle aches. No sense bleeding her. She’s too weak.” Dr. Smith suddenly smiled. “I understand you’re going on to Indian Point. Give my regards to Dr. Reuss and his bride. They married here last month. Made quite a stir in this hotel.” He placed his hand on Frau von Ewald’s head in a farewell gesture or maybe a blessing. Then, he strode from the room saying, “I’ll check on the patient each day.”

Fannie stared at the door through which the doctor had passed.

“You have great respect for Dr. Smith?” Amelia asked.

“He’s the best doctor in the world. He saved me from yellow fever.” Fannie’s black eyes flashed with pride. “That’s why I’m called to help. I’m immune.”

* * *

Dr. Stein spent the afternoon pacing in long strides across the floor and smiling reassuringly at Amelia as she tried to follow his instructions. When he spoke, which was rare, his voice remained so low that she had to draw near. He had been the same nearly silent presence after little Otto died. Day after day he had stood beside Amelia and Frau von Ewald as she gripped the ship’s railing where the boy’s body had been lowered into the sea. For brief periods, as the ship’s only doctor, he slipped away to care for other passengers. But he always returned to stand vigil with the grieving woman.

The evening grew late, and he motioned for Amelia to follow him into the hall. “I’m sorry to leave you alone. May I write to you?” He ducked his head and then stammered, “To inquire after your mistress.”

“I’m happy to keep you informed.”

“I hope to see you again,” he backed away, then turning to leave, banged his black case into the wall as if the passageway had shrunk.

* * *

The hotel fell silent except for an occasional drunk stumbling down the alley. The first time one of them knocked a greeting on the shuttered window, Amelia had jumped, and Fannie rolled her eyes. “They won’t hurt you. They’d like for you to return their knock, but if you do, they’ll make it a game of tempting you to open the window and give them enough money for another bottle.”

Amelia laughed. “The drunks in our village loved a good time.”

I can never tell Papa and Helga that continuing to teach in our village’s little school offered no better choice for a husband than Helga found in Max—a drunk who loves to have a good time, but can’t hold a job—or one of the local peasants who will toil forever in the von Ewald’s extensive fields.

* * *

Fannie had placed both candles near the bed offering plenty of light for Amelia to apply the mustard plasters and bathe Frau von Ewald’s feverish body with cool rags. When Fannie returned with a fresh pitcher of water, she whispered, “I remember where it hurts to be touched. I’ll lift her real easy, and you slip the spoon of quinine between her lips.”

This is the closest I’ve ever been to black flesh. The skin on her face looks soft as warm chocolate. Amelia nodded and watched Fannie’s calloused hands move with the gentleness of a feather around the whiteness of Frau’s body.

“Fannie promises this quinine will help,” her voice soothed like powder.

“Otto, where’s Otto?” Frau’s blue eyes, paled to a dull gray, searched a far off place.

“He’s right here. Next to you.” Amelia caressed the trembling fingers, then blew out one candle and watched the other fade to a flicker. She and Fannie worked in silence, applying cool rags without ever slowing the raging fever cooking its victim from the inside.