Comes a Time for Burning

by Steven F Havill

  “So there you are.”

  “I don’t know where I am.”

  “Your wife has been entirely faithful to you, Thomas. That seems obvious to me, for what my opinion is worth. You, somewhat blinded by love, have assumed that the child was yours all this time, despite…and I mean no offense, my dear chap…the rather obvious signs that Alvina was somewhat further along in her pregnancy than you suspected.”

  “Somewhat,” Thomas said wryly. “I don’t understand any of it. I don’t understand why she didn’t tell me when she first suspected her pregnancy.”

  “Put yourself in her place, Thomas. If she had told you, would it have affected your attraction to her?”

  “I don’t know. I really don’t know. I would hope not.”

  Hardy pursed his lips. “Well, I doubt it. I say that as a newcomer, based on first impressions only. But my impression is a strong one. She would not have wanted to lie to you. You do love your wife, do you not?”

  “Yes. Unequivocally.”

  “Then we have answered the question.” Hardy leaned forward, his hands clasped over his belly. “We cannot presume to know what went through her mind when she knew for certain. So recently bereft of her father, she may have feared that you would turn from her. She may have thought that, with many months before term, that situations could change, making such an announcement unnecessary. Tragic or not, much can happen between conception and birth. It’s a long nine months.”

  “She should have told me,” Thomas insisted.

  “Perhaps so. Perhaps so. We aren’t privy to your wife’s rationale. But again, at some risk, may I gently add that you, as a physician keen of eye and understanding in so many other respects, should have known. But there you are, Thomas. I can assure you, given the mother’s natural propensities, that Alvina loves this perfect infant with all of her heart—and will share that love with you, my lucky fellow. It appears that the actual father is out of the equation, so to speak. He has moved far away?”

  “Yes. San Francisco.”

  “And not apt to return to Port McKinney?”

  Thomas laughed dryly. “Most likely not. There were some legal issues that would face him should he do so.”

  Hardy’s eyebrows shot up. “An interesting fellow, it would seem. So, you see, it’s up to you. I…” Hardy started to say something else, but stopped as footsteps could be heard coming down the stairs and then advancing across the wooden floor to the front door.

  Prince’s bedraggled ears perked but otherwise the dog remained motionless.

  Thomas turned to see Gert James standing in the doorway. “Doctor, Alvina wishes to speak with you.” Gert’s manner was so stiff, so entirely proper, that Thomas experienced yet another lump in his throat.

  She knows as well, he thought, looking at the housekeeper’s wonderfully hatchet-like face. Well, of course she does. “Will you excuse me?” he said to Hardy, and the other physician picked up his cup and rose to his feet.

  “I shall stroll back down to my grand suite at the clinic,” he said. “Should you need me, there I’ll be. I took the liberty of borrowing a copy of your father-in-law’s book to browse through. It appears to be a fascinating tome, this Advisor.” He handed the cup and saucer to Gert. “And my thanks to you for the most wonderful dinner that I’ve enjoyed in many years.” She accepted the cup and saucer without a gracious nod.

  “May I ask that tomorrow morning at nine, you join me in my conversation with Carlotta Schmidt and her husband?” Thomas asked. “I think that will contribute to their peace of mind. By then, perhaps I will be able to think in something other than a muddle.”

  “Indeed I would. Thank you for the confidence. And please…will you pass on my very best wishes to your wife? If medical assistance is required, you know where I am.” He chuckled. “The Presidential Suite atop the clinic. And I still have the pleasure of meeting the rest of the nursing staff this evening. Mrs. Crowell? Miss…”

  “Stephens.”

  “Ah, yes. And I’ll look in on both the child and Mr. Malone from time to time.”

  Thomas paused in the doorway and extended his hand to Lucius Hardy. “Thank you for your counsel, Lucius. And thank you for dealing with Mrs. McLaughlin. I appreciate your being there.”

  The physician ducked his head. “For whatever it’s worth, my friend, you’re very welcome. Mrs. McLaughlin is a force of nature. We’re fortunate to have her in the community.” As Hardy said that, Thomas saw a softening on Gert James’ face, a warmth in the eyes when she looked at Lucius Hardy. “Good night, then. Miss James, good night to you, too. What an adventure to have a child in the house again, eh?”

  Gert James brightened a bit more. “Not a moment’s peace and quiet, I fear.” She managed a smile, and the expression reminded Thomas of a cracked porcelain cup. She stuck out a well-worn shoe, moving to block Prince’s determined advance over the threshold. “You don’t need to come inside, you wretched beast,” she said.

  “Oh, yes,” Thomas said. “For a few minutes, it will be fine.”

  “Honestly,” Gert muttered, her generalized comment on most things of which she disapproved. “Mrs. McLaughlin said that she will call at nine o’clock this evening for a few minutes.”

  “That will be fine,” Thomas said. “Unless Alvi is asleep, in which case we shall not awaken her.”

  Gert nodded and closed the front door firmly, glancing after Prince, who had already started up the long stairway, one slow, careful step at a time as if he were a hundred years old. “You watch him,” she added sharply. “There’s never any way to predict how such a monster will behave around infants.”

  “He’ll be fine,” Thomas said. He also took the stairs methodically, more to give himself time to think than as a means of favoring his now fully-healed hip.

  The master bedroom’s drapes and curtains were drawn wide to let in the soft glow of late evening. Alvi looked lovely as she cradled the infant, and even from across the room, Thomas could hear the tiny, greedy sounds of the baby’s feeding. The physician drew closer, astonished at the color blooming across his wife’s cheeks.

  “You are astonishingly beautiful,” he said softly. The dog’s tail thumped the side of the bed, and Thomas frowned at him. “She’s fine, hound. Find a quiet corner now.”

  “He frets,” Alvi said.

  “Yes, he does. But we don’t need dog hair fretted all over the room.” Thomas drew the infant’s blanket down a trifle. The baby’s eyes were closed, one tiny hand clutching breast as he suckled, the other wadded up under his chin. “You’re beautiful, and so is he.”

  “You were in earlier,” Alvi whispered. “You should have awakened me.”

  “Mrs. McLaughlin would have taken an axe to me had I done so. She leaves word that she will be back at exactly nine this evening to check on you. I told Gert that if you’re asleep at the time, you are not to be disturbed.”

  “I shall sleep a lot,” Alvi said with a sigh. “And if we’re lucky, so will he. He’s even decided that he can eat while asleep. Such talent.”

  Thomas touched his little finger to the curled hand, and smiled with delight at the tiny grip. “How much did he weigh?”

  “Just under eight pounds.”

  “My word.”

  “And you know, he must have a name other than ‘he.’”

  Thomas sat down on the bed beside Alvi, and she clamped his hand in a ferocious grip with her free right hand.

  “You’re upset,” she said.

  “No.”

  “And now, you’re fibbing. I can see it in your eyes, Dr. Thomas. I can always tell when you are cast adrift.”

  He covered her hand with both of his. “Will you explain to me why you didn’t tell me from the very beginning?”

  She didn’t reply for a very long moment. “May I tell you right now what is the most important thing to me, Dr. Thomas?” He smiled at her perpetual use of her private nickname for him, one that she had settled on the first time she’d spoken with him—while s
tanding at his bedside.

  “I hope so.”

  “Twenty-five years from now, I want to be able to look at one of those wonderful framed photographs that will be standing on the mantle above the fireplace in the library,” she said. “Perhaps we can hire the wonderfully adventurous Mr. Kinsey to produce it for us. It will show Dr. Thomas Parks,” and she reached up to run her fingers through his thick locks, “touches of gray beginning to enhance his already distinguished appearance, his wife Alvina Haines Parks, perhaps a bit matronly by now in her appearance, and the fifteen Parks children arranged around us. One of them will be this child, and I want nothing more…nothing more…than for him to be a Parks, Dr. Thomas. That’s what I want. That’s the whole and substance of it.”

  For a moment he couldn’t speak. His wife had presented the “whole and substance” of it in a way that brooked no misunderstanding. The baby shifted and gave his finger another squeeze, as if prompting him for an answer.

  “Fifteen,” Thomas said in wonder.

  “That’s in the first twenty-five years.”

  “I should have been here for his birth, Alvi.”

  “Bosh,” Alvi said. “There is no way to predict such things. You know, in the past few months, several of the town’s more adept gossips have made sure that I heard an endless litany of gruesome tales about the birth process. ‘Why, when Millie Jones had her baby,’” Alvi mimicked, “‘the labor went on for thirty hours!’ And so on. You can imagine, I’m sure. They made sure I heard all the tales.”

  “I can imagine.”

  “It’s going to disappoint all the wagging tongues to hear that the arrival was so prompt and free of complications.”

  “I’m sure they’ll find other things to wag about. I really don’t care what they think.”

  “It gives me joy to hear that, Dr. Thomas. Let them wag. I know what I want, and I hope you do as well. I don’t care what the wags say.”

  A loud thump drew Thomas’ attention. Prince had allowed his remarkably bony, gangly carcass to slump to the floor, knees akimbo, front paws stretched out, head lowered to them, eyes sleepily fixed on the doorway.

  “You won’t be late tonight, I hope?” Alvi said.

  “I have some reading that I must do for tomorrow,” Thomas said. “The Schmidts are coming to the clinic to make arrangements for her surgery. If they decide to have it done here.”

  “Anything else would be unfortunate.”

  “Bertha Auerbach is in agreement with you.”

  “Then the Schmidts should heed her advice, Dr. Thomas. And yours.” She squeezed his hand again. “I felt an immediate affection for Dr. Hardy. When he arrived, I was so taken with his manner. He could have been most impatient with Mrs. McLaughlin, you see. But he wasn’t. He could have made an enemy of her, but he didn’t. It is my belief that he understood her skills from the moment he met her. I hope he’ll stay with us.”

  “As do I. I think we will make a good team, Alvi.”

  She drew in a deep breath, careful not to disturb the infant who had dozed off still affixed to her breast. She enjoyed an enormous yawn.

  “He makes me sleepy just looking at him.” She reached out and patted the bed gently. “Tonight.”

  “I’ll be just across the hall,” Thomas replied. “An instant away.”

  “Absolutely not,” Alvi responded. “Too far away. The loneliness would be unbearable.” She patted the bed again. “I shall move over a bit. I want you here. There’s ample room, Dr. Thomas. For the three of us.” She yawned again. “Bring your book up here. The light will not disturb us.”

  “Do you know what Mrs. McLaughlin is going to say about all this?” Thomas laughed.

  “I love her to death, Dr. Thomas. But in this, I don’t suppose I care one little bit what she says,” Alvi said sweetly. “We have much to discuss, anyway. He should not awaken in the morning without a name. We must see to that.”

  “He’ll awaken many times before then, demanding attention,” Thomas observed. He stepped back a bit and almost planted a boot on the dog. “Let me take the beast outside for the night. Then I’ll be back.”

  “He’s fine where he is, don’t you think?”

  “You wish to smell damp dog all night?”

  “I find him soothing,” Alvi replied. “And now that I’ve had sufficient time to consider it, before you come to bed, would you inform Gert that I don’t wish to see Mrs. McLaughlin until morning? I want the uninterrupted time with you and him.”

  Thomas walked back down the stairs, enjoying the jolt of each tread, each shift of weight. It was hard to imagine how many of those steps there might be before the photographer squeezed the bulb, capturing the Parks family that now lived only in Alvi’s imagination. He, the infant without a name, would be grown up, a young man in his twenties. Perhaps he would be in medical school. Perhaps he would be writing letters home about his adventures elsewhere on the globe.

  Thomas reached the bottom of the stairway even as the decision coalesced in his mind. Never again would he bring up the issue of the infant’s lineage. Little He would be a Parks. John Thomas Parks.

  Chapter Thirteen

  Thomas heard the bare feet padding up the stairs, and hoped that Gert James would pass by their bedroom door. That was a wasted hope, however. Gert did not venture to the second floor, did not disturb their privacy, without compelling reason. Her own suite was on the first floor on the northwest side of the house, and more often than not, it was she who answered knocks to the front door at all hours of the day or night.

  And sure enough, the knuckles on the bedroom door were light and tentative. Thomas sat up, mindful of Alvi and the infant, both of whom had been quiet for the past hour.

  He listened, wondering if he had imagined the sound, but in seconds the rapping came again. A hand slid under the covers, strong fingers gripping his flank.

  “Go see, and then hurry back,” Alvi whispered.

  Loath to leave the bed, loath to give up the comforting smells of wife and newborn, Thomas swung his legs out from under the bedding. Below him in the dark, Prince huffed once, deep in the chest, enough to let them know that he was awake, and that he had recognized the footfalls on the stairway and then the knuckles on the door. Thomas had never known him to bark at a visitor. A rap on the door might prompt a ragged perk of the ears, but beyond that, the dog merely waited for developments. What would happen should someone burst in on them was, happily, untried.

  Slipping into his robe, Thomas made his way to the door. Gert waited in the hallway, a small lantern in hand.

  “What time is it?” Thomas asked, out of habit wanting to establish the when of things in his mind.

  “Just after two,” Gert whispered. She didn’t apologize for disturbing him—in a house of physicians, there was nothing sacrosanct about any hour of the day. “Mother and child?”

  “They’re fine,” he said abruptly, one hand still on the door knob. “What is it, Gert?”

  “Mr. Deaton has brought word, Doctor. Dr. Hardy requests that you come to the clinic immediately.”

  “Dr. Hardy requests?”

  “Yes. Mr. Deaton did not explain beyond that.” She turned toward the stairway.

  “I’ll be dressed in a moment,” Thomas said. “You need not concern yourself any further, Gert. Thank you.” But Gert James ignored his suggestion and headed down the stairs toward the kitchen.

  Thomas moved stealthily, not creaking a single floor board. Still, Alvi’s soft whisper floated to him as he shrugged into his shirt and trousers.

  “What is it?”

  “I have no idea. Dr. Hardy is at the clinic and sends for me.”

  “He can’t manage by himself?” She chuckled a little bubble of amusement. “I mean, after all, he has been a Port McKinney resident for some twelve hours now.”

  “I have no idea what he wants. But if he sends for me, then it’s something that he or the nurses can’t contend with.” He bent over the bed, and Alvi’s arm circled his neck. Her k
iss was enough to tempt him to send word that Dr. Lucius Hardy was on his own. The baby fussed softly, and Alvi’s reply was a brief wash of sweet breath on Thomas’ face. She shifted position.

  “If John Thomas continues to eat this much,” she whispered, “he will be a giant.”

  “Is there anything you need? What may I bring you?”

  “Yourself, Dr. Thomas.” She kissed him again. “I want John Thomas to greet his first dawn with both of us under his command.”

  He left the bedroom, but Prince showed no inclination to get up. Even the attraction of his various canine mistresses around Port McKinney couldn’t dislodge the dog from his assumed post.

  Well aware of Thomas’ habits by this time, Gert James managed to delay his departure for a few seconds. His heavy medical bag in one hand left one hand free for the inch-thick piece of warm bread, smeared richly with butter and huckleberry jam. He set the bag down and accepted a cup of coffee, taking thirty seconds as the fragrant warmth plunged all the way to his toes.

  “You’re a gem, Gert,” he said, talking around a mouthful of bread and jam. “And by the way, we’ve named the child John Thomas. John Thomas Parks.”

  “You’re a fortunate man, Doctor.”

  “Yes I am.” He set down the empty cup and hefted his medical bag. “Alvi informs me that John Thomas is the first of a brood of fifteen.” He grinned at the blush that touched Gert’s cheeks. “Can you imagine this house with fifteen urchins?”

  “Mrs. Jorgenson has thirteen,” Gert allowed.

  “I don’t know her. Was Ralph of the broken wrist one of hers?”

  “Her eldest.”

  “Ah. Well, with fifteen, we shall have to erect some tents out behind the house.” He leaned forward and bussed Gert on the cheek, a familiarity that she both cherished and protested. “Thank you. I’ll see what trouble Dr. Hardy has gotten himself into.”

  Thomas had hoped for a canopy of stars when he stepped outside, but the drizzle was fine and cold. Whether it was thick fog or thin rain, he couldn’t tell. He pulled his hat down hard on his head, hunched his shoulders, and headed toward the clinic six blocks away, mindful of his footing on the slick boardwalk.