Dara

by AnonYMous

  On the third day, after a good night's sleep, the bruises ached less and I was able to see and hear Dara a little as, with big anxious eyes, she clucked over me like a worried hen. She nursed me back to my normal healthy self with tender cuts of meat and thick chicken soup. In less than a week I was on my feet and ready for work again.

  On our next visit to 'The Dog's Head' some days later, we learnt that my opponent, like me, had also taken about a week to recover from the fight. It was thought that the 'Bruiser' had cracked his skull when he fell onto the cobbles, for he lay in a coma and no one could get a word out of him for nearly five days. He was a shaken man when he did eventually get out of bed and, within a few days, had left for Philadelphia. No doubt he was too shamed to face the scorn of the men of Chicago. What was more important to me was that my employers gave no sign that they had heard anything about the fight with the 'Bruiser'.

  Some weeks later Vladimir introduced us to a Dr Lionel Shepherd. A tall, thin man with light grey hair that hung down to his shoulders like a lion's mane. We were having a drink in 'The Dog's Head' at the time and I gathered from the conversation which followed that the doctor was about to open a health institution on Lakeside nearabouts where Vladimir had his fruit and vegetable stall.

  He was an impressive figure, wearing a white shirt with a high-winged collar that rose up from a dark blue cravat and a black tail-coat. His deep rich voice, elegant manners and scholarly appearance commanded respect and attention from all who were in his company.

  On learning that I was in the soap business, he asked if he could call on me as he had something of importance to discuss that might prove profitable to both parties.

  Eager, curious and excited, Dara and I sat in our room the following evening awaiting the doctor's call. That's the effect he had on most everyone. You couldn't help feeling, in his presence, that every time he was about to speak you would hear something of grave importance.

  When he did arrive, he got down to business straight away. He had, he said, a formula for a medication soap that was an excellent remedy for many skin complaints. The ingredients were a mixture of common herbs that could be obtained without any difficulty. Would my employers, James S. Kirk amp; Company, be prepared to manufacture the soap according to his formula under contract, he asked, and confine the supply of this soap to him alone?

  I agreed to put the proposition to my employers and added that, provided the order was large enough, I could see no problems which were likely to arise in the execution of such an order under contract. He thanked me most politely, impressing on me the need for secrecy in this matter, then invited Dara and me to join him in a drink at the tavern.

  As I had thought, my employers were only too pleased to enter into a contract to supply the doctor with his medication, the first delivery to commence after a month, by which time the doctor estimated he would be ready to open his health institution. I was not to see the opening of the institution because, a week before it was due to open, I received an urgent message from my mother calling me home as my father was seriously ill. Although I dropped everything that I was busy with at the time and set off immediately, my father was dead before my arrival at the farm.

  The shock of my father's death so numbed my brain that it was only during the funeral did I appreciate that his passing was going to completely change my life from then onwards. I would have to take over the farm, finish my work as a salesman for James S. Kirk and, what was more important than anything else, say goodbye forever to Dara. And what's more, do all of these things within a few days as it was impossible for my wife to cope with all the work of the farm.

  After informing my employers that I couldn't continue my work as a salesman, not even for another day, I made my way to the rooming house at Lakeside to spend my last night with Dara. I shall never forget the look on her face when I told her what had happened to bring about the utter finality of this last time we could be together.

  All the colour went out of her face as she put her hand to her mouth. With wide-open eyes she just stared at me as if she was unable to comprehend what I was saying. I tried to look away but that wide-eyed stare of hers brought my words to a stuttering halt and held me spellbound. She swayed and I brought my arms around her and held her close.

  It seemed as if eons of time went by before she pulled away from me saying, 'Well, if this is going to be our last night together, let's make it a happy one-something to remember. We won't talk about you going.'

  She came back to me and, putting her arms around my neck, looked up at me. 'Elmer, darling, don't say goodbye in the morning. Get out of bed while I'm still asleep and just go.'

  Her mood suddenly changed. 'What would you like to eat? We have got chicken and slices of cooked beef. While I'm preparing the meal, go out and get a bottle of wine.'

  After our supper we talked for hours about all sorts of things, never once touching on my departure in the morning. There was no passion or joy in our loving when we got to bed. Most of the night we just clung to each other under the bedclothes as if we were trying to shut out the harsh realities that would come with daylight.

  … The years go by. The farm prospers. I have adapted myself to a different lifestyle, but there is an empty space in my heart that only Dara could occupy. When I get low and depressed I go to the barn where I have secreted away an unsigned letter I received from Dara shortly after we parted. Reading the letter lifts my spirits and when I put it back in the little tin box I seem to hear her voice coming to me through the mists of time and space, whispering the words that ended her letter: 'Goodbye, my love.'

  PART THREE. THE EGYPTIAN PRINCESS

  I knew from the very moment Elmer opened the door to our room that something dreadful had happened. He just stood there with a worried expression on his face.

  Going up to him, I took him by the hand. 'Tell me, Elmer. I'll understand.'

  He gazed at me for a little while as if trying to imprint on his memory the features of my face, and then exhaled a long sigh. 'The milk sickness got my father and he died last Friday. I'll have to leave Chicago and take his place on the farm. They are all depending on me.'

  Looking down and speaking in a voice so low that I could hardly hear him, he continued, 'I'm only here for the night; tomorrow morning I'll have to go back to the farm.'

  There was a long pause. 'For good, you understand, Dara. I've got to go. They are all depending on me to look after them. I've got to go back.'

  He looked so upset and worried I wanted to reach out and put my arms around him and comfort him, but I couldn't move. I couldn't grasp the meaning of the words. They were all jumbled up and swimming around in my mind.

  When I got the words sorted out and I understood that this was to be our last night together and after that I wouldn't ever see him again, the blood drained from my head until I nearly fainted. His heartbeat was pounding in my ear as he held me close. It was the sound of his heart that brought home to me how Elmer was suffering too. Up till that moment I had only been thinking of myself and the futility of trying to live without him.

  Looking up into his face, I smiled. 'Why waste precious hours weeping before we part forever,' I asked brightly. 'We still have some time left for us to be happy together-and to love.'

  I busied my mind organizing a meal and asked Elmer to get some wine, saying, 'Let's not think about it. And tomorrow, just go-just go quietly, and please, Elmer darling, please don't say goodbye. Just go quickly.'

  After we'd had supper we talked and talked. Mainly about the past; about Vladimir in Russia, about Elmer's fight with the 'Bruiser' and all sorts of things we had experienced together. And all the time we were talking I knew there was a question I wanted to ask him. It bothered me, but I couldn't think what it was. And then it came to me quite suddenly and I interrupted him in midsentence. 'Elmer,' I asked, 'what is the milk sickness? I have never heard of it.'

  Elmer looked at me somewhat surprised and smiled. 'No, I don't suppose you have. They don't get it
in England, but we get a lot of people around here dying of milk sickness. As far as I know, it doesn't occur anywhere else. It is thought that about one in ten people in the Northern States die of this sickness; sometimes whole families are wiped out. Abraham Lincoln's mother died of it.'

  'But what is it, Elmer?' I asked, 'and how do they get it?'

  'It comes from cow's milk,' he answered, 'and the cows get it when they graze near woodlands and eat white snakeroot. My mother calls it “the trembles” because that's what you do when the poison gets into your system-you tremble all the time. This is followed by convulsions and a quick death.'

  He was overcome for a moment or two, then pulled himself together. 'My father must have drunk the milk of a cow he had bought only three days before his death. When he was thirsty he often helped himself to a mouthful of milk from a cow, especially when he was working in a field some distance from the house. Many times I have seen him crouch down near a cow's udder, pull at one of the tits and squirt the milk into his open mouth.'

  I said, 'You don't need to talk about it any more, Elmer, if it upsets you.'

  'No, I had best tell you. It is good that I can talk about it. Well, it was easy for me to find the infected cow by chasing it across a field. Sure enough the beast started to tremble after its exertions and the vinegary breath coming from it confirmed my suspicions that this was the cow whose milk had poisoned my father.'

  We were late getting to bed, but I found it was impossible to sleep. When Elmer rose shortly before dawn, I made a pretence of being sound asleep. I held my emotions in control until I could no longer hear the sound of his footsteps as he descended the stairs; only then did I give way to the anguish that had tortured me throughout the night.

  An agonized, hoarse cry, coming up from the very centre of my being, filled the room and echoed back to me like the sound of an animal in extreme pain. I was alone in the depths of my own hell, writhing on the rack and crying out for help. My distress was such that it affected my breathing and I had to sit up and gasp painfully for air. I tried to get out of bed, but fell back on the pillow exhausted. Feeble sobs shook my shoulders and the tears began to flow as I drifted into, and out of, uneasy slumbers.

  Three days elapsed before I struggled out of bed. Three days of alternatively sobbing and mindlessly floating through time. Dizzy and confused, I clung to chairs and table as I searched for I do not know what. In passing, I looked in the mirror. An old hag with a lined, shrunken face gazed back at me from the mirror with pale, dead eyes. I knew not who she was, nor did I care, for nothing stirred in my mind. A loud knock on the door brought me to my senses. Startled, I moved quickly to the door and locked it.

  It was Vladimir asking if I was alright. 'I've heard that Elmer has gone back to his farm,' he yelled from the other side of the door. Getting no answer he knocked again and shouted, 'Are you alright, Dara? Let me in.'

  I tried to shout back at him, but I couldn't manage it as my throat was dry and sore. When he knocked again I said hoarsely, 'I'm ill. Get me some food and leave it outside the door.'

  He must have heard me despite my weak voice for he answered, 'If you are ill you had better let me in.'

  Taking the key from the door, I put my lips to the keyhole. 'No. I don't trust you. You are a womanizer. No man but Elmer can come into this room. Go away, I don't want you. I want food.'

  Getting back into bed, I lay there listening to him appealing for me to let him in. Sometime later I awoke to more knocking on the door. It was Vladimir again.

  'Dara. Can you hear me?' he asked. 'I've brought you meat pies, fruit and ale.'

  I got to the door and said, 'Thank you. Now go away. I will be alright if you leave me alone.'

  'Are you sure?' he asked doubtfully.

  'Yes,' I answered wearily as I leaned against the door.

  After I had heard him leave the house I collected the food and drink. Feeling better, having eaten, I washed and brushed my hair and put some warm clothes on, for I was beginning to shiver although I didn't feel cold. I had just put some water on to boil to make some coffee when there was another knock at the door. Tense with pent up emotions, ready to explode at the slightest noise, I shouted hysterically, 'For God's sake, Vladimir, stop pestering me.'

  'It is not Vladimir,' a voice answered back. 'This is Dr Shepherd. May I have a word with you? If you don't want me to come in, we can talk through the keyhole.'

  The situation had become ridiculous. I started to giggle at the very idea of us having a serious conversation through a keyhole. The giggling got worse and I abandoned myself to great whoops of mirth. Blind with tears, I fell and rolled around the floor helpless with maniacal shrieks of laughter.

  The hysterics eventually blew themselves out and I got to my feet amidst frantic knocking on the door. 'Stop that knocking,' I shouted. 'I'll be with you in a minute.' I recovered my composure and drank half a glass of water before approaching the door again.

  'Dr Shepherd, have you got Vladimir with you out there?' I asked, if you tell a lie I'll never believe another word you say in future.'

  There was some whispering going on outside, then, 'Yes, but Vladimir says he will go away if that's what you want.'

  I didn't answer. Then the doctor said, 'Vladimir has gone. There is only me here now.'

  Unlocking the door, I opened it and said calmly, 'Please come in, Doctor. Would you like some coffee? I'm just about to have some myself.'

  If he was taken aback by the sudden change in my demeanour he didn't show it, apart from giving me a searching look as he walked to the table where he pulled up a stool and sat down. Leaning forward, with his elbows on the table, he said, “Thank you. Yes, I would very much like to have some coffee.'

  When we sat facing each other with our mugs of coffee, he said, in the same quiet voice he had used when he thanked me for the coffee, 'Dara, look at me.' Holding my gaze he continued, 'You are suffering from a great emotional shock, my dear. I sympathize with you for I know how you must be feeling, having lost your lover. If you want to tell me about it I'll listen. Not with my intellect, but with my heart. If you don't want to talk about it then we will speak of other matters.'

  'What other matters?' I asked.

  'Of your future, my dear young lady. Life goes on, whether you like it or not. You cannot lock yourself in your room and mope for the rest of your life. Time alone can heal a broken heart. During the days, and maybe the months to come, you will need to occupy your mind with some work that will capture your interest and attention.'

  'Work? What work is there for me?' I said in despair. 'The only work I have ever done is milk cows and make beds. I cannot see much interest in either of those occupations.'

  'Nor can I,' he said with a smile. 'That is not what I had in mind.'

  He paused for a moment, giving me a long and steady look. 'Would you be interested in helping me with the health institution that I'm about to open on Lakeside? I need an assistant, someone I can trust.'

  I was about to question him about the work at the institution when he raised a hand saying, 'No, don't give me your answer now. Meet me at the institution tomorrow at noon. The men have not finished the building yet, but I can show you much that will, I am sure, be of interest to you and tell you what I have in mind regarding yourself.'

  Promptly at noon the next day I stood outside the building that was to become a health institution. Painters, carpenters and plasterers were busy in various parts. Planks of wood, pots of paint and all sorts of building materials were strewn all over the place. I hesitated to enter in case something fell on my head.

  A man carrying a small wood plank glanced quizzically as he passed, then retraced his steps.

  'Looking for somebody?' he asked.

  'Yes, Dr Shepherd.'

  'Follow me,' he commanded sharply.

  I trailed behind him and the plank as he traced a path through piles of bricks and stacks of wood. When we got to a small, wood hut at the rear of the building he knocked on the door,
shouting, 'A visitor for you, Dr Shepherd.' Not waiting for an answer he turned around sharply, just missing my head with the end of his plank, and strode away on some purpose.

  It was a small hut and, when I got inside, there was only one place to sit; that was on a narrow bed which occupied the length of one of the walls. Opposite me sat the doctor at his desk which was littered with notes, ledger books, bills, estimates and other paraphernalia.

  'Well! What do you think of my health institution?'

  'I don't know, I've only seen the outside of the building.'

  'Come on!' he said, and ushered me out of the door and into the main building.

  'Here,' pointing to a corner at the rear, 'will be my lodging room and office; next to it a consulting room and alongside it another consulting room, for I expect to be very busy. There will be no time for me to wait for patients to undress and dress. My time will be most precious. The patients must be ready and waiting for me.'

  Turning, he indicated the wall opposite. 'On this side, in the corner, will be the Mixing Room where the herbs and mixtures and medicines will be stored and blended. Next to it will be the Electropathic Machine — it will be used mainly to cure complaints peculiar to the female. Of course, we will have screens to ensure privacy for the ladies. They will be seen only in the afternoons and then only by appointment. You will be in charge of that department of the business.'

  'What will I be doing?' I ventured to ask.

  'There will be plenty of time for explanations later. Now come along,' he said as he walked towards the front entrance. When we got to the end he looked around and waved a hand imperiously. All this space will be a reception and waiting area and will be the responsibility of my Clerk and Barker.'

  I wanted to question him further, but he took me by the arm and escorted me outside to the front of the building.