That Certain Spark

by Cathy Marie Hake

  The convex oval shape was common enough, but instead of the usual floral pattern, Dr. Bestman’s bore an intricate Celtic knotwork engraving around the edge. A faint engraving in the center of the metal piece demanded a closer look. At the foot of the cross lay a sideways heart.

  Lay my heart at the foot of the cross? Karl found himself wishing such an act were as easy as it was to retrace the engraving, refreshing the design.

  Gritty paste oozed through the cloth as he prepared to polish the silver. No piece left the smithy unless it was perfect. The inside came first. A shepherd’s crook–like hook that hid inward from the bottom of the chatelaine allowed women to attach all sorts of things from it. Tender memories of his mother and cousin assailed him. Women in Texas didn’t seem to wear chatelaines much, but Moeder had put hers on each and every day.

  The hook gleamed to his satisfaction. They never needed to bear much weight. On marketing day a tiny coin purse would dangle from it. Other days, a quartet of fine chains held a set of sewing and needlework necessities: a silver thimble, a little triangular holder for delicate swan thread scissors, a fan-shaped pincushion the size of his thumbnail, and a slender needle holder. The pieces would lie silent in the folds of a woman’s skirt when she walked, but as she turned, they’d tinkle. For church or to go visiting, the chatelaine would hold a clip for a frilly handkerchief or gloves. Moeder and Annika always had something else hanging from theirs—the tiny book and pencil. Thinking that would be a useful addition for the doctor, he’d created a second hook and painstakingly balanced the piece. He hoped she’d be pleased. After all, she’d saved his leg.

  I’m returning it to her brother. He sneaked it to me, and he can give it back to her. I don’t want her to think I have feelings for her—especially after I caught her singing to me. Appreciation and affection are two very different kettles of fish.

  “Ouch!” Karl jerked back his hand. The smaller hook jabbed beneath his fingernail. Though no polish remained on the back of the chatelaine, plenty of the paste had seeped into the tiny hole beneath his nail and made it feel like a wasp sting. I could get stung by that doctor who hummed to me just as easily if I don’t keep my guard up.

  “What did you do now?” Piet shouted at him.

  “Something stupid. My hands are too big for all these small things. Silversmithing for me is like when we went to the circus and saw that clown riding the baby’s rocking horse.”

  The whoosh of the bellows amplified the roar of Piet’s laughter. After he finished with the bellows, he trundled over to the edge of the canvas, right at the opening that led toward the work area in the smithy. Chin high, he inspected the array of items on the table. “Complain all you want, but this is a need of the people here we never knew of. I’m thinking it would be a goed idee for us to do this sometimes.”

  “You must have hit your head with the hammer.”

  Folding his arms across his chest, Piet’s brows slammed together with disapproval. “Opa was known for his silverwork. Just because you’re chafing to do something different, you complain like a thwarted child. You shame yourself acting thus and insulting Opa’s profession.”

  Astonished by his brother’s reaction, Karl rose and hobbled toward him. The pain in his thigh didn’t matter. “I didn’t mean to insult his profession. I was speaking of my own incompetence. As far as us stopping business and taking up silversmithing every once in a while—” he reached over and smacked his hand on an inch-thick stack of orders—“I see no practical way to do so. The other night, when we argued, there was contention over who was getting enough done. Right now, everything is falling on your shoulders, and—”

  “It is my place as the older brother to care for you.” Piet’s arms opened all of a sudden and yanked Karl to him in a desperate embrace. “You are my broeder. You are all I have. Nothing else matters. If I had lost you that night, I would have died along with you. Once was bad enough. Never again.”

  Karl’s arms flexed just as securely. “There is nothing like the love I bear for you.” Years ago their little brother’s brutal death had shook them both to the core. The bands of grief were starting to fall away for him. If only Piet could have a scrap of that comfort. “No one loves you more—” he paused just a heartbeat and added—“except Father God.”

  Piet stiffened and his arms fell away.

  Quickly curling his hands around Piet’s shoulders, Karl stepped back and shook his brother. “You should know I’m too ornery to die.”

  Piet batted one hand away. “Enough talk. We both have a lot of work to do.” As Karl turned to walk away, his brother tacked on, “Opa always waited until noontime to polish everything he’d done in the morning.”

  “Then I will, too.” Hating to admit just how much he needed it, Karl eased back onto the stool. The doctor told him his leg would be weak, but it still alarmed him.

  The one compensation for having the makeshift silversmith tent was that Skyler’s favorite place to flop down happened to be near the far edge of the table. He’d sit right at Karl’s side, but when Karl needed to use chemicals, his collie would trot back to his bed. Odd how that extra bit of contact and companionship enriched Karl’s morning.

  It wasn’t much later that Skyler sprang to his feet and gave his someone’s-coming yip. In swept none other than the doctor. Karl rose at once. “Dr. Bestman, what are you doing here?”

  “I should ask the same of you, Mr. Van der Vort,” she said, “only I know we struck a deal.”

  “Not a good one, but I’ll live with it.”

  “I agree it was not a good deal. I would rather you were not working yet at all. Since we live next door, I thought I’d stop by to see how you were doing and see if you needed anything from me. I thought perhaps we could go upstairs so I could examine you—”

  “My leg is good. You no longer need to care for me.”

  She gave him a quizzical look, then understanding crossed her features. “I see. I’m glad you’re feeling much improved.”

  “Ja. I stand very good now.”

  “I’m not sure how you manage that feat.” Humor enriched her tone and sparkled in her eyes as Skyler circled her again, brushing heavily against her leg.

  “Skyler! Nee!”

  “He can’t help it. He’s bred to herd. I understand.” She came over of her own accord, but Skyler seemed quite proud of his accomplishment, and she praised his dog. “If you would please sit down on that stool there, I can show you some exercises that would help strengthen your damaged muscles.”

  “Fine.” He sat down.

  All of a sudden she burst out laughing. It wasn’t one of the little titters that most women did but a full-throated, wonderful laugh. He couldn’t help but smile, almost join in as a matter of fact. So when I thought maybe she’d smiled about comparing Piet to a horse when he was stuck under the bed, I was right. The woman actually has a sense of humor. But what’s so funny? She strove to regain her self-control as she touched the swan piece. “I wouldn’t have laughed if there were any possibility you’d made this, but anything this atrocious must have taken days to dream up.”

  “It’s a nightmare, and I wasted my time repairing it.”

  Tilting her head to the side, she winced. “Perhaps it’s the day in the fairy tale when the ugly duckling becomes a swan.”

  “The duck would have made a good meal.”

  “I can’t tell where you fixed it.” She studied it very carefully.

  “Here, by the beak.”

  Running her finger over the area, she closed her eyes. “I don’t feel anything.”

  “Hmpf.” That was a good trick. He’d remember it. With his eyes closed, he’d be able to concentrate on the slightest dip or roughness.

  The doctor put her hands on his knee and thigh; Karl scowled. Just like that, she went from being a pleasant neighbor lady to a woman doctor. It was just plain wrong. Manacling her wrists with his hands, he rasped, “Your brother—he should be here and do this.”

  “My brother i
s helping Mrs. Orion at the boardinghouse. It seems she needed a few repairs.”

  “Groceries—Mrs. Orion helped Doc Enoch buy them.” Karl nodded curtly. “An exchange. Trading is done and we all try to give the widow the better end of the deal. I can wait until your brother is done there.”

  The doctor gave him a stern look. “My brother treats animals. He assists when a true need exists. It may seem uncomfortable, but I’m a physician; therefore, it is not improper, Karl. You must allow me to do this in order for me to treat you. Again, that muscle has been badly wounded, and what we both want is for you to recover fully.”

  “Fine.” He nodded curtly.

  “Concentrate here and here, where my hands are. What I want you to do is tighten these muscles, and as you tighten them very slowly, notice how it straightens your leg and how your foot comes up. Do you see this?”

  “Ja.”

  “Now I want you to do that again, only this time, instead of having your boot flop, I want your toe pointing toward the roof. Karl, this isn’t a race. Do it slowly.”

  “I want my leg to get better fast.”

  “That’s dangerous. If you overstress the muscle by doing several exercises quickly, it can tear clear through. The quadriceps here are the strongest muscles in the entire body, and you’re a powerful man. I repaired the damage with great care, but the fragile silk sutures are no match for heavy exertion. As the tissue knits back together and heals, I believe your muscles will repair adequately, but the actual range of your knee and hip’s movement will rely upon faithfully doing these exercises.” Her eyes locked with his. “Slowly.”

  He nodded his understanding. As she motioned for him to lift his foot, he did so.

  “Don’t stop when your foot comes to there.” She held her hand higher. “I want you to reach this point.”

  “My leg—I cannot get it all the way straight.”

  “No, you can’t. It’s just a little bit shy of being perfect, and I want you to have a full recovery.” Suddenly an impish gleam hit her eye. She drew her hands away. Crossing them behind her back, she leaned forward and murmured, “Think, each time as you do the exercise, that you are kicking the ugly swan sconce.”

  “I’ll recover very quickly now.”

  “That’s what I hoped for.”

  “Are there any other exercises I should do?”

  She showed him a few more, then suddenly she froze. “What are you doing with my chatelaine?”

  “Your brother sneaked it to me. Perhaps he didn’t want you to get your hopes up if it couldn’t be repaired.” Pride filled him as he picked up the piece. “But I fixed it. It’s good as new now.”

  Reverently accepting it, she rubbed her thumb along the knot-work edge as if to refamiliarize herself with a long-parted friend. She tried the lever and inspected it from the side. A soft look of wonder went over her face. “You did something different with it. As I work the lever, I sense it has more strength than it used to.”

  “Whatever originally held it and provided the tension was gone, yet something was clearly needed in that place to make it hold. So I made what I thought might have been there. I hope you will find it satisfactory.”

  “This is outstanding. My chatelaine’s never really had the strength I required. I’ve considered having the flat piece on the back elongated. . . .” She turned to stare at something off to the side that suddenly seemed of great interest. “But it’s not possible.”

  Karl knew why she’d suddenly avoided eye contact. This topic edged toward indecent. While the pretty part hung outside over the side of her waistband, women tucked the inch-and-a-half to two-inch flat metal back inside their skirt to anchor the piece in place and bear whatever slight weight they’d attach to it. If the inside metal piece were any longer, it would poke the lady in the hip each time she moved.

  “If you want it stronger, I could widen it through here.” He took a pencil and drew on his table. “See here? Instead of it just being straight, what I can do is add by making it shaped thus.” He showed her how he could widen it.

  “Like the petal of a flower.”

  “Like the petal “Ja, ja, so.”

  She looked at him. “Not like the beak of a swan.”

  “No, no, not the beak of that stupid swan.”

  “I’d appreciate it if you could do it.” Her fingers didn’t quite want to let go of the piece, and he saw her hesitation.

  “I’ll do it right now.”

  Dr. Bestman looked at all the other pieces he had in line waiting. “That wouldn’t be fair. You have other people waiting on your work, as well.”

  “Ah, but you see, yours was still being worked upon. No work is done until I polish it. I had not yet polished your piece, so that means it was still unfinished.”

  Her jaw dropped. “You polish silver?”

  “I polish each thing that I do. Piet!” he called. “Piet, tell her, do we not always polish each thing that we do before we put it out?”

  “Of course. It would not be right to send it out raw. We are not just workers, we are craftsmen.”

  “A master craftsman, indeed.” She handed the chatelaine back to Karl. “I thank you very much for doing that for me. I’ll be back later today to fetch it.”

  “You need not do that, Doctor.” Warmth radiated from the metal, reminding him of how closely she’d held it. “I will bring it back over to the surgery.”

  Just then the mayor rushed in. “I came in to ask a favor of you, Karl.”

  “What is that?”

  The mayor caught sight of the doctor and muttered something about physicians and confidentiality. He grimaced, furtively looked about, and leaned toward Karl. “I want to ask you not to, ah . . .” His voice died out as his hand came up to momentarily cover his eyes, then slid back as if to wipe a horrid thought from his mind. Again he looked at Karl. “You didn’t, did you?” he asked, hope quavering pathetically in his tone. “Not yet?”

  “What didn’t I do?”

  “Fix it—my wife brought in tha-tha-that—”

  “Are you talking about the swan?” The doctor shouldered right beside Karl.

  The mayor groaned and nodded.

  Karl clipped, “Ja. It’s fixed.”

  “I may as well take it home to her.” Staring down at the piece, then closing his eyes, the mayor said, “A lesser man could have been blinded by having to work on it.”

  “Please excuse me for the interruption, but you’ve missed the point, gentlemen. A lesser man did work on it. That is precisely why the piece exists.”

  Though flattered by her praise, Karl didn’t dwell on it. He simply named his price for the labor, and the mayor paid him.

  “I hope the two of you won’t ever mention what happens next. I am a very clumsy man, you know.” The mayor took two steps, dropped the wall sconce, and trampled on it. When he picked it up, every last segment was bent. Actually mangled—all except for the swan’s beak, which remained perfectly intact. Mayor Cutter lifted it and looked very satisfied. “My only problem tonight is going to be trying to paste on a sorrowful look, you know.”

  Eyes narrowed, the doctor stared at the mayor. “If you didn’t like it, why did you have it in your home?”

  “Edna Mae likes them.”

  “There is more than one,” the doctor stated in a calm tone.

  Karl marveled at her self-control. He’d almost blurted out the same words, but in a roaring question of disbelief.

  Glad to have a sympathetic audience, the mayor nodded. “My wife brought a pair of them into the marriage and is sentimental about some cockamamie story about what they represent.” He held up the mangled piece. “With one ruined, she’ll have to take the other down.”

  Karl and the doctor remained silent. They’d shared the same opinion of the sconce, but a man deceiving his wife rankled.

  “My wife likes symmetry, you know, and with just one wall sconce, the house won’t look right. Karl, show me something masculine, something you could make now that you’
re doing this kind of work for the next few days.”

  “No. I’m only doing this till the end of the week, and I have far too much to do already.”

  “I’m sure you can find something simple . . . anything!” The mayor went to a sample book at once and flipped through it. Every other page, he’d nod his head and say, “Um-hm. Oh this, yeah, oh, very nice. Very nice.”

  The doctor slanted Karl a look. “You must not overdo, else the incision will open and you’ll begin to bleed. The work you have before you is the limit.”

  Karl wasn’t about to have a woman order him around. Caught between a bossy woman doctor and a conniving husband, he scowled at them both. “Nothing’s gotten done since the two of you got here.”

  “Come, Mayor Cutter. Like all the men in Gooding, he’s a gentleman and won’t sit in a lady’s presence; so he won’t ease back onto that stool until I leave.” Dr. Bestman closed the book on the mayor’s hand and pressed the sconce into his arms. Her voice dropped. “With the pain he’s enduring, it’s a wonder he’s not roaring like a wounded bear.”

  His leg hurt, but he didn’t want her announcing it. I’ll take that up with her later. Doctors supposedly take a vow to hold things in confidence.

  “Pain?” Mayor Cutter cast a disapproving look his direction. “You’re given to exaggeration, young woman. He’s fine. That just goes to show how little you know about medicine.”

  “Mr. Mayor, are you questioning the veracity of my degrees or the value of my experience?”

  “Diplomas can be falsified, as can be letters of reference. So few citizens here are willing to have you treat them, it’s impossible for you to have gained any level of experience whatsoever.”

  The doctor grabbed a slip of paper from the worktable, looking as if she would merrily toss the mayor down the closest well. She snatched up Karl’s pencil and with quick, sure strokes, listed the names of no fewer than eight different references. She handed the page to Cutter. “As you’ve questioned my integrity, professional ability, and experience before a witness, I hereby demand you confer with any of these individuals. Until you have all the facts, Mr. Cutter, mind your words. I’ll look past them this once, but if this is repeated, you’ll knowingly be committing slander. As a politician, you know well the importance of the words you employ and their ability to build consensus or the potential damage they can cause. It is my hope we’ll work together for the good of this community.”