Harp on the Willow

by BJ Hoff

  A moment later, though, she sobered. “Daniel, she’s all right, isn’t she? I mean, she’s so tiny.”

  He squeezed her shoulder. “She seems perfectly fine, Esther. Yes, she is small. But just because she was in a hurry to make her grand entrance doesn’t mean she’s not healthy. I’ll check on her often, of course, but I would have done that anyway even if she’d been full-term. For now, it seems to me that you’ve nothing to worry about.”

  As he uttered the words, however, Daniel breathed a silent prayer that he was right. “Just enjoy her. Have you chosen a name yet?”

  “We decided only a few days ago on the name Anna, after Stephen’s grandmother, if we had a girl,” Esther said. “And of course we’ll enjoy her! You know we will.”

  At that moment, the new and visibly tense father burst into the room. “Did you call me? Is everything—”

  His glance went to Esther and the baby in her arms. Daniel thought for a moment he might have to resuscitate his friend, but Stephen finally moved, nearly tripping over his own feet as he rushed to the bed.

  At that point, Daniel attempted a few congratulatory words, but he was fairly certain no one heard him, least of all the new father.

  TWENTY-ONE

  A DISTURBING VISIT

  A whisper of unease often brings about the entrance of worry.

  ANONYMOUS

  Daniel had just finished with the last patient in the book for the day and was already in his coat to leave for home when he decided to stop and check in on Gladys Piper.

  The elderly spinster had been on his mind quite a lot recently, especially after he’d checked the patient log and realized she hadn’t been in nearly as often as usual. In fact, she had missed her last appointment altogether, which wasn’t like her. He wasn’t actually concerned. Miss Gladys was an independent sort and typically in fine health. All the same, it wouldn’t hurt to pay her a call.

  He wished Addie Rose were going along, but because of her long day yesterday he’d insisted she take today off. She and Miss Gladys had met only once, but he’d been surprised at how the starchy spinster had seemed to warm to his young assistant. Indeed, he didn’t think he had ever seen Miss Gladys drop her frosty reserve so quickly and easily as when Addie Rose struck up a conversation with her during her time in the examining room.

  Her home on Laurel Street was only a few minutes from his office, so he decided to walk over and then come back for the buggy and head home. With Sarge at his side, he took his time along the way, enjoying the peaceful sights and smells of the approaching winter as he went.

  Dusk was just settling over the town, but there was still enough light that he could see the stark tree branches, now mostly barren of their leaves, whipping against one another in the wind. From the porch of a brick, two-story home, a mother called her children inside, while a few houses down, two adolescent boys came at a run. They stopped long enough to pet Sarge, who stood at attention as if he were merely tolerating their fuss rather than soaking it up, as Daniel knew to be the case.

  “You’ll have to stay on the porch while I’m inside, you know,” he told the dog as they climbed the front steps. “Something tells me Miss Gladys wouldn’t take to the idea of having you traipse about her immaculate house with those dusty feet.” The hound regarded him with an indignant stare, but when Daniel ordered him to stay, he plopped down at the end of the porch without protest.

  Daniel knocked on the tall double doors twice, surprised when no one answered. He hesitated only a moment before going around to the back, thinking Miss Gladys might well be in the kitchen at this time of day, preparing her supper.

  Unease stirred in him when he found the back door ajar and heard no reply when he called out. He couldn’t quite reconcile the idea of Miss Gladys going into another part of the house with a door left open. Once more he knocked on the door frame, and then again. When there was still no response, he stepped inside the kitchen, looked around, and called her name.

  No answer.

  Too concerned now to feel like an intruder, he left the kitchen and started down the hall. After only a few steps, he saw a form sprawled at the bottom of the stairway.

  “Miss Gladys!”

  He hurried the rest of the way and dropped to his knees, taking the elderly spinster’s hand. He was relieved to feel a strong pulse, but she still didn’t respond when he said her name.

  Fumbling in his medical bag, he found smelling salts and passed them carefully and briefly under the unconscious woman’s nose. After a few seconds, she stirred, shaking her head slightly, and then she finally opened her eyes to look at Daniel with a bewildered expression.

  “What…”

  Daniel slipped an arm beneath her shoulders. “Easy, Miss Gladys. It seems you fainted.”

  She stared at him and then scowled. “I have never fainted in my life, young man,” she muttered, her speech somewhat slurred.

  With a twinge, he realized that for the first time since he’d met her, she looked her age—elderly and frail. Clothed in a simple housedress instead of the more formal attire she usually wore, and with her hair worked free of its usual elaborate style, she scarcely resembled her proper and perfectly groomed self.

  “Nevertheless, I want to examine you thoroughly. I believe you did pass out,” Daniel insisted. “Are you in pain at all?”

  “Indeed not. I was hurrying down the stairs. I must have simply lost my balance and tripped. I’m quite all right now.”

  She tried to twist away, but he held on to her. “Give yourself a moment, and then I’ll help you up.” When she sank back with a sigh, he asked, “You said you were hurrying. Do you remember why?”

  She sighed. “Of course, I remember. Someone was in the house.”

  Startled, Daniel repeated, “Someone was in the house?”

  She reached to pat her hair but winced with the movement and quickly lowered her arm. “Yes, that’s what I said. Now, I’d really like to get up. This is most uncomfortable. At least help me to the sofa.”

  It was Daniel’s turn to sigh. “All right. But slowly.”

  With Daniel firmly supporting her, she managed to get up and make it into the living room—though with none of her usual grace. Once there, she resisted his attempt to help her lie down on the sofa, instead assuming her typical straight-backed position with her hands clasped neatly in her lap.

  Daniel sat down beside her and reached for his case. “I’ll just check your heart—”

  She shook her head. “My heart is quite all right. I can assure you everything is all right. Don’t take on.”

  He ignored her protests, and she finally relented and endured his examination, though with frequent long breaths as if to make sure he was aware of her growing impatience.

  Only now did he glance around. For the first time he became aware of the somewhat altered appearance of the usually immaculate and pristine living room—the parlor, as Miss Gladys was wont to call it. Dust had collected on the lamp table nearby—not a great deal of dust, but still more than he had ever noticed on the furniture before. A few books hadn’t been returned to their places on the bookcase, but were strewn on the floor, close to the fireplace, along with the contents of a bag of needlework.

  Not nearly as untidy as a number of other homes he had visited, but certainly not typical of what he was accustomed to seeing in this home.

  “Well, I can’t see that the fall did any damage, but I expect you may be a bit sore for a few days,” he finally said, closing his case. “In any event, I hope you’ll be extra cautious for a time. And I want you to let me know if you experience any unusual symptoms.” He paused. “By the way, any special reason you missed your last appointment?”

  She gave him a blank look. “What appointment?”

  “You were scheduled to come in a little over two weeks ago. Did you forget?”

  She visibly bristled. “There is nothing wrong with my memory.”

  “No,” he quickly said. “I’m sure there isn’t. It’s just tha
t you seldom miss an appointment.”

  “I don’t believe I have ever missed an appointment,” she corrected him. “Including the one you’re referring to. Audrey must have made a mistake on the book.”

  “Ah…Audrey retired, remember? You met my new assistant, Addie Rose, during your last office visit.”

  “Of course I remember. A very nice young lady. Much nicer, I don’t mind telling you, than Audrey. Well, in any event, it really doesn’t matter now, does it? You just gave me a thorough checkup and found me to be quite all right.”

  “That’s true. But—”

  “So it’s almost as though I didn’t miss an appointment.”

  Distracted now, Daniel merely gave a nod. His mind was racing, his thoughts cluttered and disturbed. Something was very wrong, and his initial sense of where the problem might lie made him heartsick. Thoughts of Stephen’s mother crowded in on him. He hadn’t known the elderly widow before the dementia settled in, so as much as her condition saddened him, at least he hadn’t watched her decline. But he did know Gladys Piper. He had always been impressed by her keen intellect and piercing perception, her self-confidence and the respect she perhaps unknowingly commanded.

  He was more than a little worried that she might be in the initial stages of the same heartrending disorder Miss Ruth Ann suffered. He had come to admire and genuinely like this woman.

  Carefully, he touched her hand. “I take your point, Miss Gladys, that this has been a kind of unscheduled examination. All the same, I’d like you to come into the office tomorrow, if you would, so we can talk more at length. I’d like to make quite certain you’re still doing well.”

  She raised one delicate eyebrow. “Is that really quite necessary? I have a number of things planned for tomorrow.”

  “I won’t keep you long. I promise.”

  She gave a deep sigh. “Very well. But I think you’re being overly cautious.”

  Daniel gave her a smile. “You may be right. But humor me, won’t you?”

  She sighed again but finally tipped her head in agreement.

  Relieved, he ventured his next question reluctantly—and with some measure of uncertainty. “Now, then, what did you mean when you said someone was in the house?”

  The same quizzical look he’d seen earlier again crossed her features.

  “You said you were hurrying down the steps because someone was in the house,” he reminded her.

  She frowned and then seemed to search her thoughts. “I said that?”

  Again, an alarm went off in Daniel. “Why, yes. You did. And I’ll admit I was concerned after finding the back door open.” He paused. “That’s how I got in when I arrived. Through the back door.”

  “I never leave my doors unlocked,” she protested, her tone somewhat shrill.

  Daniel tried to coax her back to the subject. “I’m sure you don’t. Still, anyone can forget once in a while. But what made you think you had an intruder? Did you hear something?”

  She blinked, but the worried look that had settled over her features a moment before remained intact. “I…must have.” She lifted a hand in dismissal. “I can’t think right now. I’m really very tired. I’m sure I’ll remember all about it tomorrow when I come in.”

  Daniel’s thoughts raced. “Why don’t I just stop by before lunch?” he hurried to suggest. “That way you won’t have to hitch up your buggy or come out in the cold. It’s no trouble. I’m sure I’ll have other calls to make as well.”

  To his surprise, she delayed only a moment before agreeing. “If you’re sure you don’t mind…”

  “I don’t mind at all,” he said, getting to his feet.

  He was reluctant to leave her alone, but there seemed to be no choice. “If you’re quite sure you’ll be all right now, I’d best be on my way.” He paused. “If for any reason you’d need me before tomorrow—any reason at all—just have Sy Fordham next door come and get me.”

  She sniffed, and the familiar lift of the chin and acerbic tone he’d grown used to reappeared. “I could walk to your house before that old geezer could find his hat and coat. Besides, I am perfectly fine, and there’s no reason I should need you before you stop by tomorrow.”

  Properly chastised, Daniel said his goodbyes and went to reclaim Sarge from his cold perch out front. In spite of the return of Miss Gladys’s more prickly nature, however, he left with a heavy heart and no small measure of concern.

  TWENTY-TWO

  A NEW IDEA

  Her beauty filled like water the four corners of my being.

  PATRICK MACDONOGH

  The next morning, Daniel wasted no time in describing to Addie Rose his visit with Miss Gladys.

  He had spent most of the night awake with a gnawing unease about the woman, troubled as much about her future as what he suspected to be the present state of her mental health. And, admittedly, in the midst of his disquiet, he had found himself wanting to confide his concern and unease to Addie Rose.

  Not only was she always an acute and attentive listener, but she could also be counted on for a sensitive and discerning response to his concerns about a patient. She seemed to have an uncanny ability to clarify his feelings and then to actually put into words the course of treatment he might want to consider for that patient.

  Unlike Serena, whose attempts to show an interest in my work often fall flat, no matter how much I might appreciate her efforts…

  There. He’d done it again. These erratic comparisons between Addie Rose and Serena, unbidden though they were, never failed to rattle him, even irritate him. Addie Rose, after all, was his employee, perhaps even a friend, but Serena was—

  Serena was what? The fact was that he had neither seen her nor heard from her for nearly two weeks, and after all this time he had to admit that this was just as much his fault as hers. He had known full well she’d be upset with him after his abrupt cancellation of her family’s dinner invitation. But what else could he have done?

  The Corcoran toddler had been in a bad way. Severe convulsions in such a young child could be deadly. How could he have lived with himself if he had put his personal plans before the treatment of a sick baby? He simply hadn’t known what else to do other than cancel his plans with Serena, no matter how much her obvious anger had upset him.

  “Daniel?”

  He suddenly realized that his mind had wandered again, and he quickly turned his attention back to Addie Rose, who was watching him curiously.

  “Didn’t you tell Miss Gladys that you’d stop by this morning? Will you be going soon?”

  “I plan to, yes. Would you like to go with me? The two of you seemed to hit it off really well when you first met.”

  “I enjoy her. And, yes, if it’s all right with you, I’ll go along.”

  “Of course, it’s all right. Let’s lock up and go right now. We have time before morning office hours.”

  Secretly glad for her company, Daniel had already started moving toward the coat closet, with Sarge leading the way.

  Later that afternoon, between patients, he stood looking out the back window as he returned to the conversation they had begun on the way back to the office. “I thought Miss Gladys seemed a little better this morning.”

  Addie Rose paused and looked up from her desk, where she was sorting through charts. “But not normal,” she said, stroking Sarge, who was lying close by her chair.

  Daniel drew a long breath before turning back to her. “No. Not normal.”

  “You said she has no relatives.”

  “No one. There was a cousin, but I understand she died some time ago—before I moved here.”

  “How awful for her,” Addie Rose said softly. “To be so alone.”

  Daniel made no reply. In truth, he sometimes caught himself feeling more alone than he would like, only to immediately feel shame for what even he could recognize as self-pity. After all, he had a thriving medical practice, as well as a number of good friends. Stephen and Esther Holliday. Sandy MacIver. Lawrence Hill. And he had f
amily, though farther away than he’d like.

  Even so, at times, if he wasn’t careful to guard his thoughts, the pall of loneliness seemed to fall over him like a cold curtain of fog. In those moments he felt an aching sadness from being such a distance from those he cared about and those who also cared about him. At those times he had to forcibly drag himself back to the reality that was his life—and not such a bad life, at that, he quickly reminded himself.

  Without warning, the afternoon sun burned through the window, catching him off guard with the sight of Addie Rose in profile. The light brushed her hair with golden arcs while accenting the blush of her skin. Daniel couldn’t bring himself to look away but instead stood staring as if he’d never seen her before.

  She is absolutely, incredibly beautiful. Not in a dramatic, stunning, or seductive way, but more with a quiet, winsome kind of loveliness that was all the more breathtaking for its unassuming grace.

  She glanced up, and he forced himself to turn away.

  “Daniel, do you think…”

  But at that moment the bell over the door rang, announcing a patient’s arrival. Addie Rose’s voice died away, and Daniel sucked in his breath, relieved. Hopefully, she hadn’t noticed his staring.

  At the end of the day, Daniel had almost finished restocking his medical case before heading home when Addie Rose stepped into the supply room.

  “Daniel, do you have a moment?”

  “I do,” he said, closing the clasp on the case.

  “I’ve been thinking…”

  She looked uncertain, even uneasy, and the worrisome thought flicked across his mind that perhaps she was about to resign. But why? He’d assumed that she was fairly well settled in by now, even happy with her job. Had he done something to bring this on?

  Had she sensed his growing, if reluctant, attraction to her? A sick feeling washed over him. What if he had revealed even more of that attraction than he’d realized when she caught him watching her earlier in the afternoon? Good grief, was she repulsed by him?