What Heals the Heart

by Karen A. Wyle

  The clopping of the horse seemed notably quiet after the visit. He both enjoyed the peace of it and missed the duet of womanly and childish voices. Was man ever satisfied with his lot?

  Chapter 16

  Now and again, Joshua found himself restless, impatient with the familiar faces all around him, the square and the livery stable, the walk between rooms and office and back again. Sooner or later he would find or invent an errand that took him elsewhere, to Rushing or further afield. On this day, his excuse came from a temporary shortage of cheap tobacco. The tobacconist in Rushing might have some, or so he told himself as he rode Nellie-girl out of town.

  The tobacconist, he soon discovered, carried nothing as inexpensive as the leaf with which Joshua usually contented himself. Rather than return empty-handed, he purchased a more expensive variety and left the establishment disgruntled. If he had planned better, he could have sought Alton’s company, but Alton would still be at the school. For lack of a better alternative, he took himself to the tavern for an early dinner.

  A pork belly sandwich and glass of beer were beginning to soothe him when, to his disgust, he spotted a familiar golden head atop broad shoulders. The pitchman he had seen months ago in Cowbird Creek, and in whom Freida Blum had taken such unjustifiable interest, was finishing his own meal while telling some tale that seemed to captivate a crowd of locals. Finishing with a flourish and accepting the laughs and cheers of his audience, he stood up, draping his velvet-lined greatcoat over one arm, and headed right for Joshua’s table. Standing over Joshua, legs apart and smiling broadly, he asked, “Did I not see you some months back in Cowbird Creek, driving a pretty little mare — a Missouri Fox Trotter, if I’m not mistaken — and with a charming older lady by your side?”

  Joshua would have been sufficiently annoyed by either the man’s particular (and accurate) attention to his mare, or the insinuating reference to Freida. The two together were insufferable. He shoved his chair back, put his glass down on the table with a clunk, and said stiffly, “I recall the occasion.”

  The pitchman could reasonably have taken offense at Joshua’s manner, but he apparently preferred to ignore it, holding his smile as he said, “Please be so kind as to convey my greetings to that lady, when the occasion arises.”

  Joshua stood, his chair rattling behind him. “I cannot undertake to comply with that request.”

  The confrontation had attracted some attention, and some of the men the pitchman had been entertaining looked ready to come to his defense. He waved them back, however, and faced Joshua again, his smile a little forced but still in place. “In that case, sir, I can only hope the future brings me an opportunity to wish the lady well in person. You may finish your meal — I have no intention of troubling you further.” He tipped his hat, swirled the greatcoat around his shoulders, and left the tavern, pace steady and with a roll in his step.

  Joshua, on the other hand, sat back down with his stomach roiling and took only one more bite of his sandwich before donning his overcoat and walking stiffly out the door.

  He had intended to linger in Rushing until Alton was free, but now he faced a dilemma. Alton was a friendly and sociable man. What if he, like the fellows in the tavern, found the pitchman a diverting companion in spite of his deplorable profession? Of course, Joshua could simply avoid mentioning the encounter, but he was sufficiently ruffled, not to say angry, that he was not sure he could manage it.

  In the end, he rode home, urging Nellie-girl to a rare gallop on an open stretch of road, careless of the cold bite of the wind.

  Back at the livery stable, Joshua checked Nellie-girl’s legs for any swelling or tenderness. “My apologies,” he muttered, stroking her neck. “You had the burden of my temper as well as the rest of me, this day.” The mare blew at him, stirring his hair and tickling his ear.

  Somewhat eased by the interlude, he still made straight for the pharmacy to tell Robert the pitchman had turned up again. Robert, busily grinding and measuring and pouring, lent an ear to Joshua’s complaints, grimacing and cussing when appropriate, but it struck Joshua as friendly indulgence more than genuinely shared indignation.

  The cold outside air blew into the pharmacy as the door opened. Clara Brook came in, cheeks pink from the cold, and smiled pleasantly at both Joshua and Robert as she approached the counter. “We’ve finally used up our supply of bandages. The same quantity as before, please.”

  Joshua, who had not bothered to remove his hat, did so now. He looked Clara over as much as he could do without rudeness, seeing no injury. “I hope the hurts that used up your supply have been minor.”

  Clara chuckled. “Indeed. My own skill, such as it is, served to tend them.” She studied Joshua in turn. “Forgive the observation, but as I entered, I thought you did not look entirely pleased with life. I hope nothing is seriously wrong.”

  He could well imagine that he had looked annoyed, at best. He opened his mouth to deny any cause for her concern, and then thought better of it. They had, after all, discussed the pitchman once before — though not Freida’s reaction to him, which the pitchman must have been acute enough to note. In as level a tone as he could manage, he described the morning’s encounter, and after some hesitation, added, “I fear the man will take some advantage of Mrs. Blum’s generous interest in him. I would sooner know him across the country than so close as Rushing.”

  Clara cocked her head. “You know Mrs. Blum better than I do, but I suspect you do her wrong in thinking her so easily deceived. She strikes me as perfectly able to read a man’s character, without some other man stepping in to do that office.”

  Joshua felt some of the stiffness leave his neck, only thus realizing how tense he had become. “I bow to your perception, ma’am.”

  He suited the action to the word; she laughed again before producing a coin, handing it to Robert, and picking up her bandages. “Good afternoon, then, to both you gentlemen — and Doctor, I hope I leave you in better humor.”

  As indeed she had.

  Chapter 17

  Joshua had not encountered Dolly and Hope since their return to town, but as he took an early afternoon stroll to settle his dinner, he saw Freida shepherding mother and daughter toward the schoolhouse. Was Hope old enough to enroll? Did the school accept new pupils in the wintertime? He yielded to curiosity and followed them.

  It turned out Freida was taking them not to the schoolhouse as such, but to the social library. Dolly perused the shelves while Hope stared wide-eyed at the mysterious volumes. Joshua greeted the three of them, then squatted down by Hope. “Would you like me to find something you might enjoy?”

  She grabbed his hand and pulled on him so that he landed on his rump. Dolly turned around at the thud and exclaimed, “Hope! That wasn’t ladylike!”

  Joshua smiled at the child. “Maybe not, but seeing as I’m down here, I may as well set a while.” He scooted closer to the shelves and pulled out a volume with a red cover and gilt lettering on the spine. “Oh, this is a wonderful story. It’s about a girl, a little older than you, who goes to a magic place full of funny people.” If that left out the more frightening aspects, no matter. “Would you like me to read you the beginning?”

  Hope answered by crawling over and climbing into his lap. Seeing Dolly about to intervene, he gently lifted her back off again, hoisted himself up, and held out his hand. When she took it, he led her to a sofa, lifted her onto it, and sat beside her. “Ready?”

  She nodded vigorously, and he began.

  Alice was beginning to get very tired of sitting by her sister on the bank, and of having nothing to do.

  He skipped ahead a bit, to get to the real beginning of the story.

  So she was considering in her own mind (as well as she could, for the day made her feel very sleepy and stupid), whether the pleasure of making a daisy-chain would be worth the trouble of getting up and picking the daisies, when suddenly a White Rabbit with pink eyes ran close by her.

  He turned to Hope. “What do you think of t
hat?”

  Hope looked disappointed. “I see rabbits all the time. Maybe I even saw a white one once.”

  “That’s what Alice thinks, at first — but wait and see.”

  There was nothing so very remarkable in that, nor did Alice think it so very much out of the way to hear the Rabbit say to itself, "Oh dear! Oh dear! I shall be too late!"

  Joshua commented, in the tone of one sharing a confidence, “You know, I think I’d be surprised to hear a rabbit talk. Would you?”

  Hope tilted her head to the side, considered carefully, and finally said, “Yes.”

  But when the Rabbit actually took a watch out of its waistcoat-pocket and looked at it and then hurried on, Alice started to her feet, for it flashed across her mind that she had never before seen a rabbit with either a waistcoat-pocket, or a watch to take out of it, and, burning with curiosity, she ran across the field after it and was just in time to see it pop down a large rabbit-hole, under the hedge.

  “What do you think she did then?”

  Hope pursed her lips in and out, thinking hard. “I think she chased it!”

  “That’s absolutely right!”

  In another moment, down went Alice after it!

  Joshua became aware that both Dolly and Freida were standing in front of him. He put his finger in the book to mark the place and closed it, looking up. Freida’s gaze rested softly on the little girl, but she spoke to Joshua. “Mrs. Arden is going to check the book out, so maybe you read more of it later.”

  Joshua asked Hope solemnly, “Would you do me the honor of continuing our reading at some future time?”

  Hope smiled graciously, ruler to subject. “Yes, Mister Doctor.”

  Joshua handed the book to Dolly and got up. “Then I’ll see you two ladies on that happy occasion, if not before.”

  Dolly and Hope headed home, Hope now allowed to hold the precious book while Dolly carried several others presumably meant for her own reading. Joshua asked his remaining companion, “May I escort you somewhere? I am headed for the general store, but am in no particular hurry.”

  “The general store, why not? I can always use some flour, so many things I can do with it.”

  As they walked, Joshua wondered what simpler books the social library might have. Perhaps, if there were such, he could try his hand at giving Hope a reading lesson . . . .

  He became aware that Mrs. Blum was talking, and he had failed to take in whatever she was saying. “I beg your pardon. I was lost in thought.”

  “Naturally, why should you listen to an old lady rattle on? You must be thinking about important subjects, new treatments, medicines to invent.”

  He shook his head laughing. “Nothing so monumental.” He explained his musings; she beamed.

  “Such a lovely thought! And you and Hope, so sweet together, just like a father and daughter. And Dolly, didn’t she look lovely? I admit I made the dress she was wearing, but I can do better, just wait until I make her wedding dress . . . .”

  “Mrs. Blum!” Joshua did his best to sound stern. “I do hope you haven’t said anything of the sort to Mrs. Arden.”

  Freida in her turn, pretended offense. “What do you think of me, you should say such a thing?”

  What he thought, in fact, was that she had probably made just such a comment, and most likely more than once.

  Joshua’s next visit to Dolly and Hope was scheduled for the following Saturday afternoon. He made time the day before to visit the library. He found just what he had been hoping to find.

  When he arrived, Hope was industriously polishing Dolly’s Sunday shoes. When Dolly opened the door for him, Hope cried out, “Mister Doctor! I can polish your boots!”

  Joshua took a quick glance at Hope’s work in progress. She appeared to be doing a decent job. He took off his hat, hung it up, obtained Dolly’s permission, and sat in the chair to which Hope directed him.

  When his boots were clean and gleaming, he extracted the somewhat battered little volume from his inner vest pocket and showed it to Hope. “I found another book at the library for you. It’s not a fanciful story, like Alice’s Adventures in Wonderland, but I liked it when I was a boy first learning to read.”

  Hope’s face expressed a mix of interest and caution. “I don’t know how to read yet, Mister Doctor. I just know my letters.”

  Joshua opened the book to a page with detailed drawing of insects and animals. In the corner of his eye, he saw Dolly shrink in delicate distaste at the sight of the insects, but Hope craned forward. Encouraged, Joshua pointed to the cat on the right-hand page. “Knowing your letters is a very good start. With that knowledge, you may be able to find which of the words next to this picture is the word for ‘cat.’ I could help you.”

  Hope brightened right up, but Dolly made a “tsk” sound and said, “Oh, Hope is too young for reading. It can hardly be good for her to task her brain so.”

  Thus quelled, Hope sank back in her chair. Joshua laid the book on her lap and stood, facing his hostess. “If I cannot be of use as a teacher, perhaps you have some chores I could attend to, jobs for which you would otherwise need to hire help.”

  Dolly looked down at her hands. “I wouldn’t want to trouble you —”

  He cast about for supporting argument and found only a white lie. “I have had insufficient exercise this week. You would be doing me a favor.”

  She looked up again and twinkled at him. “Well, in that case, as a gesture of Christian charity, I could ask you to bring in some more firewood.”

  “With pleasure, ma’am.” He donned his coat and hastened outside to the woodpile.

  Dolly thanked him profusely when he returned with an armful of logs stacked up to his nose and dumped them where she directed. “It’s not often we have a strong man here to do such things.”

  Joshua wondered wryly just how feeble he would have to be before she would hesitate to call him strong. But he gave her a little bow, and asked for another assignment. A few chores later, she could think of nothing else. “Let me give you some tea. I have some biscuits made just yesterday, and strawberry jam.”

  He should really be going. But the lure of strawberry jam weakened his resolve. “Well, just one biscuit, maybe.”

  As she set out the food and poured the tea, she chatted about the opportunities becoming available to a man in this state, now that the struggles over statehood were well behind them. He was ill acquainted with some of the industries she described, and was not altogether sure that she knew them a great deal better. But he did his best to hold up his end of the conversation, all the while wondering how the topic had arisen. Did she imagine him to be ambitious for high position? She might, he realized, if she assumed he had graduated from one of the eastern medical colleges, instead of just hanging up his shingle and studying his way to as much competence as possible.

  Three biscuits later, and after the educational experience of seeing just how much strawberry jam could end up on one little face and how efficiently a good housewife could wipe it away, he finally took his leave.

  When he stopped off to bring Freida some more diuretic tea and dose her with essence of foxglove, he mentioned his latest visit with Dolly. To his surprise, she shook her head at him. “So many visits and nothing coming of them, people will start to talk. A man should make his intentions known.”

  “Intentions? Can’t I be intending to enjoy her company and get to know her better? And to make myself useful now and then?”

  “Useful, he says. A husband is useful! A father to the little girl, that would be useful! Setting the town to talking about her, not so much.”

  “Freida. Be serious with me, please. Based on what you’ve heard, am I already compromising her reputation by spending time with her? Should I stay away from her, if I’m not ready to . . . go further?”

  She scrutinized his face like a gypsy reading a palm. “You’re not ready? You think you keep looking, you’ll do better?”

  “It’s not that! Dolly is a wonderful woman. But .
. .” What could he say? Suddenly he remembered how all this had started. “I wasn’t looking for a wife! I don’t know that I am, even now. Nor that I’m not. I don’t know . . . I don’t know what I want. So how much time do I have to figure it out, before I need to shy off for Dolly’s sake?”

  Freida sighed. “Am I a fortune teller?” He started a little at her echoing his thoughts; she looked quizzically at him, then went on. “But you want serious, I’ll try. Seriously, I think you should figure yourself out before too much longer.”

  He did run into Dolly again three days later, but without contriving to do so. He had determined to winnow out such of his books as he didn’t plan on rereading, and brought the resulting stack to the social library. Dolly was already there, returning the books she had borrowed — along with, he was sorry to note, the McGuffey reader — and looking for new ones. Under the circumstances, he was somewhat relieved to see that Freida was absent.

  She looked at his armful of books. “May I see?”

  He held them out for her inspection. “They’re mostly history and medicine. And a Latin dictionary that helped me when I was learning what medicines were made of.”

  She looked daunted at the idea of Latin. “Maybe the history. This one looks interesting. I don’t know as much as I should about our War of Independence, given how many of my family fought in it.”

  The schoolteacher wrote down the title, while Joshua glanced at the volumes Dolly was returning. Besides the reader, none of them looked familiar. “Novels?”

  She blushed a little. Joshua hoped she did not think he was the kind of old stick who considered novels unsuitable reading for a woman. “Some of them are quite absorbing. The one I just finished was so sad! A woman finds out that the man she married, the man she loves, already has a wife, and she has to leave him. It was so hard for her. But of course, she had no choice, did she?”