by Faye Sonja
He buried his head under the water, trying to escape the thoughts, which meant he didn't hear the door open, or Susan's footsteps come tapping into the room.
When he saw the shadow of a figure casting over the bath he sat up, startled. "Susan..." he cried, reaching out for a towel to cover himself. But as he did so he only exposed his chest more, and he could feel Susan's eyes on him as she took a step back, knew she was taking in the gnarled skin, the tissue where the fire had touched, which had never grown back the same way.
Susan let out a loud gasp. “Jedediah...what on Earth happened to you?”
Jedediah quickly tried to cover up, bringing the towel up over his chest, before snatching a second cloth to cover his neck. “No need for such carry on, it’s nothing,” he snapped.
He watched Susan as she struggled to regain her composure. Finally, after a few deep breaths, she managed to squeak, “Did that happen to you in the war?”
Jedediah shrugged as it if was nothing. “Many men had a lot worse than this, just you believe me. I got nothing to complain about.” “Men like Kit”, he thought, for instance. What were a few burn marks compared to a missing limb? Though, if he could go back in time, he would make sure it was he that suffered the gunshot wound, not Kit.
“It should have been me,” he thought for the thousandth time, as Susan, who looked like a blur in front of him, tried to speak to him. Her voice sounded muddy, like she was speaking under water, and Jedediah had to shake his head, wondering if he had actually had his head under for so long that his ears were blocked. But it wasn't the bath water. The ringing in his ears was coming from somewhere far away.
Susan's voice trembled as she took a step closer to her husband, trying to lay a gentle hand on him as he struggled to dress. "Will you at least allow me to take a look at it?"
"No need," he said, breezily. "I've lived with these scars on my body for years now, and they don't trouble me." He tried to say the words as casually as he could manage, as though he were talking about something as mundane as a pair of clothes. As though the scars were no more worth worrying about than a hat, or a haircut.
"Don't they...hurt? Or itch?" Susan asked. The girl was clearly concerned but Jedediah had had enough of the conversation and was already walking out the door. He buttoned up his shirt, concealing the scars from Susan's eyes and anyone else's, as he had a hard day's work to get to.
"I'll be back before dark," he commented, before he closed the door behind him, leaving Susan alone. As he stomped off towards the woods, and his mood cooled a little, he wondered if he should have walked out, leaving Susan like that, with barely an explanation. He stopped and almost turned on his heel, half-intending to walk back to the house, but then he heard Kit's voice calling from up ahead, asking for help, so he shook his head and tried to forget about Susan's shocked expression, the look of pain he had left her with.
* * *
Susan stood there trembling for a good few minutes after Jedediah had gone. She'd seen burn victims before when she'd worked at the newspaper, war veterans who had suffered horrendous injuries, but they were all strangers. It was different when it was her own husband.
"He must be in great pain," she thought, finally taking a seat at the rickety dining table. The wonky table legs wobbled beneath her as she tried to steady herself. "If only he would let me take a look at the scars, help him in some way." But from the first moment they'd met, Susan could tell that Jedediah was not the sort of man who accepted help easily. He was stubborn, too sure of himself. And awful proud.
She tapped her fingers on the table, wondering what she could do. She knew that Isabella was a doctor, and keen to set up a new practice in town. There was an empty shop in the center of town which would do nicely, but it was very run down and dirty, so it would take a few weeks to get it up and running, and maybe even longer than that before Isabella could finally see patients. But she supposed that in the meantime she could work on Jedediah, try to get him to soften up. Open up to her about what happened. Then she might be able to convince him to see Isabella. It was worth a shot anyway.
She jumped up out of her seat, an idea coming to her. Susan was an expert at things concerning design, and shops, and modern things - why, she would be the perfect person to help Isabella get the practice up and running. She quickly grabbed her green bonnet and tied it to her head, as she raced out the door and down the hill, to Isabella's house.
* * *
5
Susan’s Plan
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“ Please God, let me find a way out of
this mess I have created for myself.”
.
Susan could have sworn she saw Jedediah wince as he took a seat in his wicker rocking chair that night. "Are you in pain?" she asked, carefully, not wanting to tread on any toes, or send him flying off out the door again.
He scowled up at her. "Only from chopping down trees all day."
Susan nodded as though she believed him, and took a seat across from him. "I have some news," she announced gently. "You know Isabella, Kit's wife?" He nodded drowsily, though his face contained the faint trace of suspicion. "Well, she's to open a medical practice in the center of town."
His tied eyes suddenly flew wide open. "But she's married."
Susan had expected such a reaction, and knew that her next announcement was only going to further excite him, so she kept her voice calm and steady. "Jedediah, when she is open to seeing patients in a few weeks, I was thinking, perhaps, if you saw it fit, that you could go in and see her."
"See her about what?" He placed his mug down beside him and leaned forward slowly, the rocking chair freezing as he balanced it steady. "I ain't got nothing wrong with me."
Susan glanced down at her hands, and mumbled as she spoke. "Well, you do have something wrong with you, and I'm worried that you can't see that..."
Jedediah jumped out of the seat, sending it rocking back and forth wildly, and Susan had to lean back herself to move out of its way. She watched as Jedediah stomped out back into the kitchen, as she heard the clattering of pots and pans and various bits of china as he fumbled for a pot to find so that he could make another brew.
She sighed as the sound of boiling water came from the next room. "That didn't exactly go how I'd dreamed," she thought, although it had gone as she had feared. If Jedediah couldn't even accept that there was something wrong with him, how was he ever going to seek help? "You can't fix something you can't acknowledge," she thought.
She waited for him to calm down a little, as he returned to the room with two fresh mugs of tea. He placed one in Susan's hands and she smiled up at him gratefully as he sat back in the rocking chair. "Jedediah, I just wish you would let me help you..."
"Drop it," he said, as he stood up again. "I told ya already. There's nothing wrong with me. Nothin' for me to go complaining about, anyway."
"But it's not complaining, Jed. It's not a sign of weakness to go and see a doctor, if that's what you're thinking." She tried to keep her voice calm, knowing that he was at risk of storming out of the room again at any second.
"I don't need to go, Susan. That's the end of it." He turned to go, but before he went, he stopped and added. "And I don't want you going down there either, or having anything to do with this new so-called medical practice, you hear me?"
Susan heard him all right. She turned and left, without saying a word.
* * *
Susan took a deep breath and started down the path that led to the new medical practice. She told herself there was no sense in feeling guilty about going behind Jedediah's back - after all, she only had his well-being at heart. Sometimes, she thought, men were too stubborn for their own good, and they needed their wives to take the reins, make the decisions for them.
She pushed the door to the practice open, and immediately, Susan felt at home there. Strange, as it was only a new office,
with the paint barely dried and that fresh smell of lavender in the air. But it still had a homey quality to it, thanks to the fresh cut flowers that sat out on the desks, the paintings of landscapes that hung on the wall, and the cheery demeanour of Doctor Isabella Greegeory.
"You look well," Isabella greeted her, gesturing for her to join her in her office. "Too well to be coming in to see me, in fact." Isabella sat down on her little wooden chair on the far side of her desk, and offered Susan the one across from her.
Susan took a seat and placed her purse in her lap. "It's not me I've come to see you about," she admitted.
"Oh?" Isabella asked. "Is everything all right at home?"
"Yes..." Susan said, unsurely, still not convinced she was doing the right thing, telling personal things about her husband behind his back. She looked down at her hands, folding and unfolding them a few times before she finally spoke up. "Isabella, do you know much about burn victims?"
Susan thought she saw Isabella flinch a little bit. The woman settled in her chair before answering softly. "Yes. I do. Quite a bit of experience, in fact." There was something about the way Isabella spoke, softly, yet reserved, that let Susan know not to push the topic. Best to stick to her own troubles right then, anyway.
"It's...Jedediah..." Susan said, finally raising her eyes away from her hands. "I'm afraid he suffered some awful injuries in the war. Burns, to his body." She drifted off and looked away.
Isabella nodded for a few seconds, before standing up to move toward a small glass cabinet - locked - behind the desk. The key sat in the lock, so Isabella only had to turn it before swiftly opening the door and reaching in, producing a jar of pale pink ointment as she turned around. "This ought to do the trick."
Susan smiled, grateful that Isabella wasn't making her describe the ailment in any great detail. "You're a good doctor, Isabella."
Isabella pushed the jar towards Susan. "I'm only as good as my patients allow me to be. It's not so easy if I can't see his injuries for myself."
Susan picked up the jar of soft pink ointment and turned it over in her hands. "Erm, Isabella, how much is this going to cost?" she asked, quietly, turning her face down, feeling it flush red as she tried to hide it.
Isabella pulled an apologetic face. "It is quite expensive, I'm afraid. Do you still want it? I can give you a small discount, as a friend, but there's still quite high price tag."
Susan nodded quickly. "I still want it." She would have to figure out a way to explain to Jedediah where the money went.
Susan smiled, then changed the subject. "Do you think there's any chance that Jedediah would come and see me himself? It would help if I could check the extent of the injuries. Make sure there's no infection."
Susan shook her head. She knew there was less than zero chance of Jedediah seeing a doctor . "He doesn't know I'm here."
"I see." Isabella smiled at Susan, showing she understood. "Do try to get him to use the cream then. It will really help. Soften the scars, allow them to heal more easily."
"I'll do my best, Isabella. Thank you so much for your help." Susan stood up and pulled her gloves back over her hands. As she turned to leave, she hovered for a second, before adding, over her shoulder. "Please don't tell Jedediah I was here."
"Of course not," Isabella said, smiling at her friend, her eyes emitting warmth and trustworthiness. "Please come back and see me if there's any further problems."
* * *
The bottle felt heavy in Susan's purse, and she switched the bag from side to side, feeling like the substance she had in there was burning a hole through the material. The entire walk home she tried to rehearse what she was going to say to Jedediah, but nothing she came up with sounded quite right. She couldn't pretend that she'd just stumbled up the ointment by accident; he would never believe that.
"Perhaps I could say it is for me," she thought. "Oh, but he doesn't want me seeing Isabella, even if it is for myself." She wandered along, clutching her purse to her side as though it contained precious cargo, as she pondered this fact. She resented the fact that Jedediah had forbidden her from going to Isabella, for several reasons. Firstly, he had no right to tell her where to go, or what she could do. Secondly, even if he was suspicious of doctors himself, why would he begrudge Susan seeking medical treatment for herself? That seemed awfully unreasonable of him.
With that, she decided that would be the lie. That she'd burned her own hand on the stove boiling the water, and she'd needed Isabella to prescribe her some cream. "Then I'll just casually tell him there's some left over, without pushing him to use it himself." One last problem though: if Jedediah found out how much the item cost, that she'd spent an entire week's worth of spend on it, then he'd really be furious.
She was so busy concocting the story in her mind, clutching the bag to her side, that she didn't notice Thomas, on horseback, riding furiously towards her, till it was almost too late. She skipped to the side, as Thomas reined the horse back, tugging on the reins till the horse was standing on its back legs.
Startled, Susan jumped out of the way, as Thomas climbed down, full of wistful apologies. "Gosh, Susan, I'm awful sorry. Darn it, I wasn't watching where I was going."
Susan brushed off her dress, looking down to see if there was any dirt, or any stains. "Neither was I," she said, accepting Thomas's apology. "I'm as much to blame as you are, I'm afraid."
He took her hand to steady her. "Are you okay?"
She nodded, brushing down her skirt. "Fine, yes." Then she caught the sight of her purse lying on the ground. "Oh no," she gasped, running over to it as Thomas watched on, asking what was wrong.
"My...my ointment," she mumbled, rummaging through the bag, hoping that it hadn't smashed. She was relieved as she reached in, feeling no loose ointment on her fingers. The bottle must still be intact then. She reached around for it, trying to find the glass jar.
Then she saw it, lying on the side of the road. It must have flown out as she'd jumped. The glass jar was smashed into a thousand pieces, and the ointment had seeped into the dirt and gravel of the road, not to mention the smashed glass. She cried out as she ran towards it, trying to salvage some, trying to scoop it up, but her hands were cut by the glass as soon as she reached into it, and Thomas dragged her away, telling her to be careful, admonishing her, saying that it wasn't worth hurting herself over.
But it was. A week's worth of pay lay there, seeping into the ground, gone now.
She reached her hands up to her face in dismay, smearing herself with dirt and blood. "Oh, what have I done..." she murmured, as Thomas watched on in horror.
* * *
"What on Earth has happened to you?" Jedediah dropped the armful of wood he was carrying and ran over to Susan. "You look like you've been in the war."
"Ironic," Susan thought, just shaking her head. "I don't want to talk about it," she mumbled, pulling herself away from him. Jedediah kept trying to pull her into him, but she slid away, not feeling like she was deserving of his affection, or his pity, right now.
"You've got blood on your forehead." He reached out and grabbed her hands. "And your palms are all cut up. Goodness Susan, what has happened to you out there?"
"I fell," she mumbled, pulling her hands away. She couldn't even look him in the face, she was so ashamed of what had happened. All that money spent, and the secret trip to see Isabella, and all for what? Nothing. She shook her head and walked away, hoping Jedediah wouldn't ask any more questions.
He followed her into the bedroom. "How did you fall?"
She sniffled and answered as honestly as she could. "Thomas came riding into town, out of nowhere, and I tripped, trying to get out of his way."
Jedediah stormed out of the room, and Susan heard his footsteps clomp right up to the front door. "Where are you going?" she called out.
"To give Thomas a right ticking off! That's where. He could have killed you for crying out loud."
"Oh, I've only gone and made matters even worse," Susan thought, springing off t
he bed, and running after him. "Wait," she called out, before she bowed her head and told him the truth. "I went to see Isabella...about your scars...she gave me this treatment, that can help them, but..." Her face fell, as she told him how she'd dropped the bottle, wasted all that money, all that precious liquid. When she'd finally told him the whole sorry tale, she dared to lift her head, only to find Jedediah was standing there, still frozen, his hat dangling off his hand.
He spoke up after a silence that, to Susan, felt like it lasted years. "I don't need you fixing me, Susan."
"I wasn't trying to fix you - only to help you. Jedediah, I don't want you to suffer any more than is necessary."
He scowled at her. "You mean you wanted me to look better. Look normal."
She frowned. "No...I...I don't care about that."
He scoffed and turned his face away. "Yeah right. If you don't care, why are you out buying fancy lotions that'll take care of the scars, hey? Why can't ya just leave me the way I am?"
"Because you are in pain! I can see that as clear as day, even if you try to hide it from me, even when you're brave."
"I ain't brave," he said quietly, his head hung low. "Kit was the brave one." He brought his head back up all of a sudden, his eyes gleaming. "And I deserve the scars that I got, Susan! I ain't tryna' get rid of them!"
"I'm not either..." she tried to protest, feeling like she was shouting into the tree tops, for all the good it was doing. "This isn't about..."
He put his hat on and pushed past her before she could finish. "I can't talk about this anymore, Susan. I wish you would just let things be."
