Robert peered over his mug of beer, studying Joshua with unsettling shrewdness. “Your worry does you credit, as showing your good nature and concern for your fellow man. Or is there some more particular cause?”
Joshua took a gulp of his own brew. “Need I have some other cause, when this plague could devastate so many of my patients and neighbors? When, if some of the reports prove true, we might see the town reduced painfully in size, as farmers abandon their holdings and flee to the East?”
If the thought of one particular family leaving town, of Clara Brook’s tall figure climbing aboard a wagon and vanishing beyond the horizon, gave him a peculiar twinge, he was hardly obliged to say so.
Chapter 13
When the owner of the general store held out a letter addressed to Joshua in a dainty feminine hand, the man’s expression bordered on a smirk. Joshua felt a flare of temper, but managed to take the letter with a bland word of thanks and tuck it away.
He waited until he got home that evening, somewhat the worse for a long day, and then until after he had scraped up some supper before finally opening the letter.
Dear Doctor Gibbs,
I apologize for not having written sooner to assure you of our safe arrival. We had few problems on our journey, and those few made easier by the kind assistance of a gentleman traveling in the same carriage.
It was good she had found someone to help her cope with the challenges of the journey. Of course it was.
The visit began with the sad business of conveying to the bereaved parents the body of their son, followed the next day with his burial in the cemetery where previous generations of his family already rested. But from that point, my hosts have endeavored to make my visit agreeable and entertaining. They make much of Hope and are in a fair way to spoil her. But I suppose grandparents always do!
Joshua had a sudden vision of his father allowing a little girl Hope’s age into his library, even letting her touch the books. It gave him an unfamiliar ache in his chest.
I have had one very welcome surprise. Evidently Mr. Arden had investments of which I knew nothing, and which his father managed for him. They waited to tell me until the process of transferring the assets into my name had been completed. It is not a great sum, but I will have some little income from it, which will make my and Hope’s lives easier, and serve as something like a dowry should I ever think of marrying again.
That must have come as a relief. It was surely hard enough to be a woman alone, raising a child, without the added stresses of straitened means.
Life in the city provides much distraction, but I still find myself missing the familiarity of home. Please write and tell me all the news.
Surely one of her female friends would be a better source of gossip. Perhaps he should ask Freida to write to her.
Hope sends greetings, and wishes me to tell you that she looks forward to picking blackberries with you again. I have explained that the season for blackberries will be over before we return, and that it will be some months before they are ripe again. She does not want to believe me.
Joshua chuckled, imagining Hope’s little face screwed tight in a stubborn expression.
I must end this letter, as we are going to tea at my sister-in-law’s house.
Yours with esteem,
And the signature, so full of curlicues he could barely read it, must be her full name.
He would write back, after all. She had asked him to write, and it would be unfriendly to ignore the request. He could always suggest that Freida do so as well.
It took Joshua longer than it should have to start a letter to Dolly, and then to finish and send it. He did not write many letters, except to order books or equipment, or too rarely, respond to his mother’s correspondence; nor did he have any particularly interesting news to include. When he finally completed the task, he half expected Dolly to take as long to send any reply. But when the assistant at the general store waved him down, it could not have been more than two weeks after his letter would have arrived in Baltimore.
He had no real need to go to his office just now, but it was closer than home. He tried to look busy as he made his way inside. Once safe from any observing eyes, he sat down and opened the letter.
Dear Doctor Gibbs,
Thank you so much for your very informative, newsy letter . . . . But I mustn’t tease you. Men never write such long letters as ladies, do they?
Joshua raised an eyebrow. He could easily imagine Alton, for example, writing a long, interesting letter if he had occasion to do so. And his father, if he made time to write a letter at all, would probably produce something the length of a medical journal.
We have been in something of a social whirl lately, especially compared to life at home. My late husband’s parents — it no longer feels quite right to call them my in-laws — have had friends to tea or to dine several times, and we have gone out to two art exhibitions and to a reception at the mayor’s mansion. I have already written to tell Freida how grateful I am for the dresses she made me, which have been much admired at the more casual occasions, and my hosts have been so kind as to provide me with a suitable gown for formal wear.
Joshua winced, imagining Freida’s reaction to being told that her creations were suitable only for casual use. But Dolly was no doubt being realistic, given the different society in which it appeared she was moving during her visit.
The meals I am served, with my hosts and on our various excursions, have been so bountiful as to threaten to make my various dresses and gowns grow tight. We have had pheasant, quail, turtle soup, and other such fare, along with more cakes and crudities than I can describe.
Joshua found himself yawning. No doubt such details would hold his attention better if Dolly was telling them in person, with her smiles and bright eyes to enliven them.
I had not realized the extent to which my daily responsibilities have weighed upon me and dampened my buoyant nature, until this respite, where so little is demanded of me. I hope I will return home refreshed and strengthened to resume the little burdens of life as a widow with a child.
It must, indeed, be hard for her. At least her husband’s financial legacy would relieve some of her day-to-day anxiety.
Hope has been well, except for a time or two when the richer diet has troubled her little tummy. She has been slow to learn from such experiences, and pouts when I restrain her from overeating.
Joshua smiled, picturing Hope’s indignant complaints. Perhaps, when Dolly and Hope returned, Dolly would allow him to buy Hope some sort of treat from the candy store. He should probably ask when they were likely to be back in town. Dolly might even have expected him to inquire earlier.
I sometimes have difficulty remembering that the luxury and diversion of this visit is not my usual lot, and that I will be returning to a very different mode of life.
Dolly must feel something like Cinderella at the ball. Would she meet a prince in Baltimore? How would she view a plain country doctor when the clock struck midnight and the magic was dispelled?
Joshua took greater pains, this time, to collect local news for his reply to Dolly. He sought Freida’s aid, which pleased her not a little. “So kind, to send Dolly news from home, make sure she doesn’t forget us!”
Joshua’s letter recounted the mayor’s latest speech, a fire in the blacksmith’s yard (soon extinguished), Major’s feud with one of the cats that roamed the town, the advance of autumn, and even which eminent town ladies had lately engaged Freida to make dresses. He thought of mentioning the continued reports of severe grasshopper damage in the western counties; but such news was probably available in Philadelphia, and moreover, would hardly fulfill her request for reminders of home.
He read the letter over with something like distaste before sealing it and dropping it at the general store, doing his best to conceal embarrassment behind a haughty air that the young woman behind the counter appeared to find humorous.
He expected, as his just reward for attending to Dolly’
s reproach, that she would write at least as promptly as last time. But three weeks passed, and then four, and he heard nothing. Perhaps Cinderella had found her prince.
Chapter 14
Heading back to his office after a hurried dinner at the nearest saloon, Joshua was turning over in his mind the uncertain diagnosis and prospects of a patient when footsteps by his side drew his attention. Glad of the distraction, he looked over to see Clara Brook matching his stride. Seeing that she had drawn his attention, she smiled in a manner somewhere between cordial and friendly. “Good afternoon, Doctor. Your knitted brow suggested some puzzle to be solved, but I both hope and expect you will solve it in due course.”
Taken aback and yet comforted by Miss Brook’s observation, he smiled and said, “You are precisely correct. I have a patient whose symptoms puzzle me.”
Miss Brook looked at him with attentive expectation, so he went on. “A young man has lately begun having fits, falling into a faint or thrashing his limbs about, biting his tongue. It resembles an epilepsy, but he has suffered no head trauma, and no one in his family is similarly afflicted. In a young woman, I might suspect hysteria.”
Miss Brook’s gaze was intent enough to make him slightly uncomfortable. “Do you believe, then, that hysteria is exclusively confined to the female of the species?”
Looking at her, hearing her firm footsteps, and especially remembering her history, he did not dare to suggest that the female constitution might be intrinsically more frail, more easily disturbed by emotion, than his own. Indeed, his not infrequent nighttime ordeals suggested otherwise. “I believe I should, after all, consider that diagnosis. I will inquire whether anything particularly disturbing has lately occurred in the young man’s life.”
They strode on in pleasant companionship until they reached his office. He could think of no appropriate words of parting, so he simply tipped his hat and went on inside.
* * * * *
Yellow Spring, a few miles north of Cowbird Creek, had no doctor. When folk there needed doctoring, their kin were likely to come fetch Joshua. There was a creek to cross in between; usually that was no problem, as Nellie-girl was more willing than many horses to cross moving water, but she had gone lame the day before.
Fortunately, the young man had shown up at Joshua’s door wearing thigh-high rubber boots and carrying an extra pair, big enough to fit almost any man — though therefore too big for steady footing. Joshua popped next door to ask Robert to rent the buggy and give him and the young man a ride to the creek. Of course, there might or might not be a similar arrangement on the other side; and when he finally made it home, he would likely have a long walk ahead of him.
He wrapped his bag in a tarpaulin, secured with rope, for at least a little protection should he drop it in the creek. It was a near thing. He did drop it once, but caught it just as it reached the surface of the water.
Two sisters greeted them, eyes red and cheeks wet. Joshua followed one of the girls into the somewhat ramshackle house, to where the mother was lying on a large and sagging bed, propped up on pillows, flushed with fever and tossing restlessly about.
The daughter told Joshua through her tears, “She’s been coughing something dreadful. And she hasn’t been able to keep anything down, not even water. And her fever just keeps going up.”
Joshua took the woman’s hand and felt her pulse: fast, uneven, weak. He didn’t think she had long. “Has anyone sent for a minister?”
The girl nodded. “But he was out seeing to people some ways away. I don’t know whether —” She didn’t manage to finish the sentence, but the message was clear.
The woman moaned and muttered something. Her daughter leaned over to listen. “Yes, ma, the doctor’s come.”
The woman struggled to sit up farther and looked at him — studied him, Joshua thought. She appeared to come to some decision, turning to the girl and saying, just loud enough for Joshua to hear, “You go out to the others. I need to talk to the doctor alone.”
The girl turned to Joshua, stricken. “Is she . . . will there be time . . . .”
“I don’t think she’s about to leave us. I’ll call you and your siblings straightaway if anything changes. Is it just the three of you?”
She nodded. “Our pa died three years ago.” She bent to kiss her mother’s forehead and then slowly, dragging her feet, left Joshua alone with his patient.
He looked around and found a stool, dragging it to the bed so he could lean forward to hear her without looming over her. He took her hand again, this time for whatever comfort he could give rather than to confirm what both of them already knew.
The woman’s rasping voice came again, barely audible. “Is my daughter gone?”
“Yes — at least, she’s left the room. It’s just you and me here.”
She took a few shallow breaths and coughed a rattling cough before she spoke again. “The minister . . . not here yet?”
“I’m afraid not. I’m sorry.”
“No . . . not sorry . . . need to tell someone something . . . not the minister . . . .”
This was taking him into far deeper waters than the creek. “I’ll listen to whatever you want to tell me. But what good — wouldn’t it be better to tell your family, or the minister, anything important you have yet to say?”
“No!” It was almost a shout. He wouldn’t have thought she had the strength for it. And indeed, the effort exhausted her. She lay back panting, and said nothing more for at least a minute. Then she managed to go on in a hoarse whisper. “Don’t want to leave this earth without tellin’ someone. But not them, any of them. . . . Doctors have to keep secrets, don’t they? . . .”
“Yes, ma’am. Ministers, too, I’d have thought. But we do.”
“The minister . . . He’s known me and Nathan since we moved here. Known the children all their lives, baptized ‘em. I couldn’t bear him knowin’. . . tell you instead.”
He took a deep breath, which only reminded him that she could no longer do the same. “Whenever you’re ready, ma’am. I’m here listening.”
She waited another minute or so, till he was afraid she would never manage to say whatever it was she needed to. But finally she gripped his hand tight and said, with many a stop to gasp for breath, “Nate and me . . . Nate and me, we lived as man and wife for more’n thirty years. But we never . . . it were never legal. . . . He’d had another wife, when he was barely more’n a boy, and she left him. . . . Never knew where, never got free of her. . . . Wasn’t free to marry me. We lived just as if we were married. . . . But nobody knew, not ever. . . . Not until now.”
Another pause, before she went on. “And then Nate died and left me alone with knowin’ . . . . I miss him so much, and all the while were living in sin . . . .” She looked up at Joshua, face screwed up in defiance. “And I’m not sorry for it! He was a good man and a good father . . . .” She shut her eyes, and tears leaked out and down her face. “The children, they’re all of them . . . natural, and don’t even know it. Can’t no one know, never.”
Joshua moved her hand into both of his. “Not ever, ma’am. Not from me. Rest easy, if you can.”
She opened her eyes again, opened them wide, searching his. “Do you think . . . will the Lord let me find Nathan? Will he forgive us?”
Joshua bit his lip, but he couldn’t stop his own tears from coming. “I’m no preacher, ma’am. And I’m not so good a man as to claim to judge others. But we’re told he’s a God of love. And you and Nathan loved each other. I have to believe he’d want that love to go on.” He added, maybe too quiet for her to hear: “Eternity’s no place to be alone, not when there’s someone you could love.”
Her hand started to loosen in his. Panicked, he let go and ran to the door, calling. “Come now! Come quickly!”
The three of them ran in, almost running him down. And they made it, if without much time to spare, kneeling by the bed and telling their mother they loved her, as she murmured a few faint words of farewell and slipped away.
The young man wiped his face with a rough drag of his sleeve. “No sir, Doctor. My sisters can see him. And they can tend to Ma, get her ready. She’ll be here still, and made decent, when I’m done taking you home.”
Neither of them spoke on the long walk to the creek, or sloshing back through it. He had time to think, instead. What would the minister have done, if the woman had had the courage to confess to him? Was she right to carry the secret with her, unshared except with a stranger who had no power of blessing or forgiving? Had she chosen the only way to protect her children’s future?
What would Freida say, if she heard of such a case? Or Dolly, with her own marriage to mourn, and her own child to protect? He found he didn’t know her well enough to hazard a guess.
And what about Clara Brook? He had an odd notion she would have understood; that she would have been glad of Joshua’s answer.
Robert, bless him, was waiting on the other bank. He must have been driving back and forth all evening. Joshua bade farewell to the young man, glad for once that a family member was too distracted to think about paying him. He would not have felt right taking money for this night’s work.
But when Robert had driven him home, and he stumbled up to his rooms, he realized that he had forgotten to return the borrowed boots. So he had that payment, whether he wanted or no.
Chapter 15
When Dolly finally wrote again, there were signs that Joshua’s premonition about her forming an attachment might have been correct. The letter was shorter than her previous ones, as short as his first supposedly inadequate attempt. And a few coy mentions of a Doctor Brent, who had been so kind as to escort her to a play and to join her host family for tea, and had such a lot to tell her about the exciting advances in medicine, might have been designed to make him jealous. Yet he had no claim on her attentions, let alone her affections, that would justify such a feeling.
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