What Heals the Heart

by Karen A. Wyle

  She did not, as he expected, tell him that the soldier’s death was none of his doing. She could not know that, nor could he. And she might have known, from her own hard experience, that such attempts at comfort would have little effect — if she had confided to her family the nature of what troubled her sleep.

  He had nothing to say, nothing else that needed saying, and she seemed to feel no greater impulse to say more. They sat like that for a few moments longer before she squeezed his hand once more, released him, and made her way out toward the washroom at the end of the car, to let him climb back to the upper berth and at least give the appearance of composing himself for sleep.

  After such a dream, he usually lay awake, sometimes for hours. But he found himself drifting toward sleep, with the memory of Clara’s gentle voice echoing in his ear.

  He had the dream again the following night. But this time, the dead man looked at Joshua with something like compassion, and then set to work helping him carry those wounded still living. When no more soldiers lay bleeding and crying out on the ground or on carts, he bowed to Joshua and faded away like mist.

  Joshua awoke, sat up slowly, and looked around the railroad car. No ghosts, no trauma, nothing but Clara sleeping in apparent peace in the berth below him, and curtains growing bright with morning light.

  Chapter 25

  After the revelations and fraught emotions of the last several days, Joshua would have been glad to lighten the mood in some fashion. He provided the opportunity without conscious intention. Clara had been looking out the window of the parlor since the porter brought them a passable breakfast, but suddenly turned toward Joshua. “May I ask what you’re doing with your hands?”

  Joshua had not known he was doing anything with his hands. He blinked, looked down, and answered, “I am repeating elements of magic tricks. Such practice, especially when done more slowly than in actual performance, helps me maintain my skills, such as they are.”

  Up went Clara’s eyebrows, as amusement lighted her face. “Do you mean to tell me you’re a magician? How did this knowledge escape my notice?”

  “I hope it is not commonly mentioned. I usually indulge the hobby only in the company of a very few friends.” His memory inconveniently offered up his most recent public performance, at Madam Mamie’s, where the onlookers included some he would hardly so describe.

  Clara took a moment to reflect on his confession. “I suppose there might be folk in town who would view such a hobby as inconsistent with professional dignity. Though there might be others, possibly more, who would think it a sign of desirable cleverness — and of manual dexterity that can only add to your qualifications.”

  Joshua had never considered that possibility. He would have to give the matter more thought. In the meantime, Clara had more to say. “Would it be possible, and would it amuse you, to teach me one or two of your simpler tricks?”

  Joshua hesitated and looked around. There were only a few other passengers nearby; if he spoke softly and kept to tricks he could perform with smaller gestures, they might not draw attention to themselves. “I have never taught magic to anyone, and I had no teacher myself. I learned from the few books I could find, and rarely, from observation. But I am willing to attempt it, if your expectations are sufficiently modest.” He mentally ran through a few tricks he had mastered early, and another that had become feasible more recently. “Let me show you a few tricks I might be able to teach, and you can choose which I should try to teach. But please keep in mind that even the simplest are likely to require many attempts before one can master them.”

  Clara sat back in her seat, smiling broadly. “Your audience is ready, sir.”

  Joshua held up a hand, palm out. “But your performer is not. I must retreat and make a few preparations.” It was fortunate he had brought what he needed for a few tricks, having thought he might pass some of the time on his long journey with practicing. That had not happened on the journey east, due to the crowded and uncomfortable conditions in third class, but now his plan proved useful.

  Joshua took his bag to the washroom and returned a few minutes later to find Clara once again looking out the window, her expression pensive. She appeared relieved to see him return, and he was glad to have a distraction to offer from whatever thoughts or memories weighed upon her.

  He started with appearing to puncture the midpoint of a dollar bill, folded inside a bit of paper, with a steel-point pen, only to display the bill intact. Clara clapped, but the twitch of her eyebrow suggested she might have deduced the general nature of his method, if not the particulars.

  He moved on to card tricks. First he asked Clara to choose a card from the deck, then allowed her to insert it in the deck and to cut the deck for good measure. When he laid his finger across the deck and lifted the finger with her card seemingly attached to it, he won from Clara a small start of pleasure that made him ridiculously proud.

  “This next trick can be appreciated from a slightly greater distance.” He held the deck face down in his left hand and started pulling cards off the top with his right, holding them there. “Tell me when to stop.” When she obliged, he turned over the portion of the deck in his right hand and showed her the visible card, then slid that card onto the seat next to Clara. He turned the remaining cards face down again and fanned them out, showing her that the intricate design on the back of all the cards was blue. Laying the fanned cards on his own seat, he turned over the card whose face he had shown to Clara. The design on the back was a brilliant red.

  Clara not only applauded this trick, she actually bounced slightly in her seat, reminding him of Hope. He suppressed the pang of sorrow and regret that came with that recollection, standing up to bow to Clara with a dramatic flourish, careless of any onlookers.

  “A last card trick, one that can land the magician in a great deal of trouble if unwisely used.” He proceeded to deal her a royal flush, only then thinking to wonder whether she would recognize it for what it was.

  To his relief, she grinned. “Now there’s a ‘trick’ worthy of the name. It’s good to know you’re a man of honor and would never take advantage of your skill.”

  He gave her a sitting bow with an elaborate flourish, put away the cards, and made a wooden toothpick disappear. For his finale, he nerved himself to ask permission to touch her hair, so as to produce a coin from behind her ear. He could not help noticing the unexpected softness of her hair, and the warmth of her skin. He took his seat again in some confusion of mind.

  With difficulty, he dragged his attention back to the subject at hand. “Which of these tricks would you like me to teach you?”

  She chewed her lip thoughtfully. “I should perhaps ask, which of these tricks would you like to teach, and which do you believe I may be able to learn in our remaining idle hours?”

  “The toothpick trick is relatively easy, so long as you have a ring to wear. But unless you have a ring in your bag, we will have to defer that one, as the ring I use is too large for you.”

  Clara shook her head. “I am not sure I even possess any rings.”

  That made sense. She seemed to have no interest in geegaws or finery. And of course, she had no wedding or engagement rings . . . or could he be sure? He knew little of her life before the war. . . . What had he been saying? “Ah. Yes. The dollar bill trick requires only the bill and paper, a pen, and a little preparation. Or would you rather start with cards?”

  “I must admit cards have greater interest for me.” Her smile had a touch of wickedness to it. “I rather like the picture of myself as a card sharp.”

  Joshua had to laugh at the image that came to him, Clara in a dandy’s suit and eye shade, shuffling cards in a saloon. “Well, then, I believe you would have least difficulty learning the first card trick I showed you, the one with the rising card.”

  He was not really surprised when she mastered the trick before the train pulled into the station.

  * * * * *

  Shortly before they were to arrive at the Co
wbird Creek depot, Clara said quietly and rather abruptly, “I have a question you might consider surprising and even intrusive.” Not only her voice but the set of her shoulders betrayed tension. What could she possibly have in mind?

  Joshua looked around to make sure no one was within earshot. “I am confident you would not ask such a question without good reason.”

  He had hoped to reassure her, but somehow seemed to have the opposite effect. He had never heard her speak so hesitantly. “I have heard it said that you . . . that when you visit Madam Mamie’s, it is not only to provide services. That you are also there to . . . to receive them.”

  Joshua’s jaw dropped. As he was hauling it back up, she added hurriedly, “I am only wondering how you avoid . . . unpleasant consequences. I know you would not be ignorant of such, or careless about them.”

  If he paused to speculate as to her reasons for asking, she would be likely to misconstrue his hesitation as disapproval. Explanations could come later. “There is a simple means of preventing the consequences I believe you to mean.” Now that he had begun, he must find a way to go on, and if he blushed, so be it. “There is a, a thin sheath the man can wear that serves to protect . . . either partner against any contagion from the other. It also greatly reduces the chance of the woman conceiving.”

  To his enormous relief, her face brightened as it usually did in response to intriguing information. “Indeed! I wonder who first performed the necessary experiments to discover this.”

  Joshua’s mind instantly flooded with various absurd pictures of such experiments. Clara snickered. And then the two of them were laughing together, guffawing, attracting the attention he had taken pains to avoid, and about which he no longer cared in the slightest.

  Chapter 26

  Clara would have declined Joshua’s offer of an escort to Miss Wheeler’s boardinghouse, but Joshua pressed the point in case his involvement would smooth things along. Gossip about his following Clara and returning with her would run rampant in any case.

  Miss Wheeler cordially invited him to return the next day for dinner, but Joshua declined. He had been pondering the difficulties before him where Freida was concerned. He could not involve Robert by revealing that Robert had sent word of the pitchman’s reappearance and its alarming consequences. More subtlety was called for. It seemed likely that Freida would — if not too distracted — respond to his return with an invitation of her own, which he could accept and use as an opportunity to question her.

  In the meantime, he wanted a quiet evening alone with Major. It might settle his mind.

  He went to pick Major up, thanking Robert for looking after the dog while bringing him up to date in a summary fashion. Robert laughed heartily at Joshua’s account of his and Clara’s flight, and listened thoughtfully to the plans for Clara’s employment. He made noncommittal noises about the notion of having work for her in his pharmacy before changing the subject to ask, “You got my letter?”

  “I did, and have seldom been so shocked by a communication. It’s as well I didn’t foresee such a consequence to my leaving town.”

  “Come now, you don’t think you could have stood in the way of Cupid’s arrow?”

  “You must have misunderstood Mrs. Blum’s response to this man. He probably presented himself as in need of feeding, to take advantage of her generosity.”

  Robert shrugged. “If so, he’ll take himself off and that’ll be the end of it. You’ll soon have a chance to see for yourself, I expect.”

  Joshua shook his head as if to dislodge the thought. “What could possibly attract her to that charlatan?”

  “I’m hardly an expert on affairs of the heart, my good man.” Robert stopped short. “Though we have a mutual acquaintance who could conceivably shed some light on the subject.”

  Instead of heading straight home with Major, Joshua stopped by the butcher to get a bone for the dog and left him comfortably worrying it in front of Madam Mamie’s establishment. He entered with some discomfort, given the likelihood that his visit would be misconstrued. He was relieved to find Mamie herself first, rather than any of her girls. Before she could ask his business, he blurted out, “May I consult you about a matter that has left me utterly bewildered?”

  “Of course, Doctor! Would you like a whiskey while you tell me about it? And does this by any chance concern your recent travels?”

  “No, thank you, and no, it does not . . . involve my own affairs. Robert tells me — are you aware, or would you agree, that Mrs. Blum has shown some sort of interest in the fellow running that medicine show?”

  “Has she really? I’ll have to talk to my girls. They’re failing in their duty to keep me abreast of the local gossip.”

  “Mamie — what can have possessed her? Is this some sort of mania? Can he have practiced upon her with one of his potions? Though I don’t know how he would have prevailed upon her to drink it . . . .”

  She looked at him with an almost motherly air. “Dear Joshua, it’s not so unlikely as you’re making it. He’s a well-looking man. She’s a widow, long accustomed to a man and now long enough without one.” She watched Joshua sputter, seeming to enjoy it, and then added, “As a matter of fact, I talked to the man when he first came to town. I wanted to make sure he knew where my house was located — though he never did visit us as a customer.”

  Joshua would have assumed otherwise. But the pitchman might reserve his attentions for more useful women, older and wealthier.

  Mamie read his expression with the ease of an expert. “Whatever you’re thinking — and I can’t say whether you’re right or wrong — I found him an interesting gentleman. And a lonely one, poor fellow.”

  Of course he would play that card, for Mamie and Freida both. But — if Mamie was so good at reading Joshua, could she be correct about Freida’s suitor?

  But whether the man were lonely or an opportunist or both, surely it took more than loneliness to attract Freida in more than a momentary charitable way. And the man’s profession! Joshua looked at Mamie in renewed indignation, exclaiming, “But a pitchman! I would never have believed that she could tolerate dishonesty in a man, even a friend, let alone a — whatever he’s hoping to be.”

  Mamie twinkled at him in a manner disconcertingly like one of Dolly’s expressions. “Maybe they’re both hoping to find some enjoyment in each other, without searching each other’s souls. Or do you imagine only men do so?”

  He could not believe it, not of Freida. But he had no means of refuting the suggestion. He took his leave even less satisfied than he had been when he arrived.

  Freida did indeed invite him to dinner, puffing her way up the stairs to his rooms to welcome him back and insist on his accepting. “Such a journey you took, so much must have happened! You’ll tell me all about it?”

  Joshua had been expecting the question and had an answer ready, though it was harder to deliver than he had hoped with Freida standing there beaming at him. “I am sure you would not wish me to touch upon matters that concern the private affairs of another.”

  “Pish, you think I’ll spread gossip? Who would listen to me?”

  He was quite sure she would find eager listeners aplenty. But he turned the conversation to her health. “Exertion such as climbing stairs might be best avoided. You can search me out at my office at the usual times, or ask someone to summon me.”

  He was surprised and concerned when she failed to push back against the suggestion. “I have some number of breaths left, you think, and I should save them for when they’re needed. A smart man, I always say.”

  Joshua had forgotten to ask Freida whether her niece remained in town, or had returned home to her family and fiancé. The subject troubling him might be even harder to approach with Rachel present.

  As he mounted the steps to Freida’s front door, rehearsing the manner in which he would approach the matter at hand, he was startled to hear two voices within, but neither of them Rachel’s. One, of course, was Freida’s. The other was masculine, and ripp
led along with practiced smoothness. Joshua cursed under his breath. Freida had stolen a march on him.

  Freida flung open the door while Joshua was still trying to collect himself. “Doctor Gibbs, welcome! I hope you don’t mind, I invited a friend, you two should meet, you have so much in common!”

  Joshua’s indignation threatened to burst forth. He said through clenched teeth, “I will always be happy to meet any friend of yours, after all you have done to be a friend to me.”

  The other guest was indeed the golden-haired pitchman, dressed not in his medicine show finery but in a more sober frock coat. He had apparently stood up as Freida answered the door, and now bowed to Joshua. “I am most happy to see you, Doctor. After all Freida has told me about you, I have been eagerly looking forward to actually making your acquaintance. She tells me, for example, that you are open to the use of Indian herbal remedies?”

  Joshua responded stiffly, “Mrs. Blum is correct that I have included some such remedies in my pharmacopeia.”

  Freida, now in her kitchen, called back, “Never mind the Mrs., by now you can call me by my name, we’ve known each other how long?” Joshua could imagine the smug little smirk that must accompany her playing such a game with him.

  Joshua gave a short nod to the pitchman and went into the kitchen to confront his hostess. “You are of course free to invite anyone you choose to your table, but I believe it would be best if I returned another time.”

  She planted herself squarely in front of him, hands on hips. “Oh no you don’t, Mr. Big Shot I’m Better Than Everybody. You’re happy looking down on Mr. Kennedy?” (Oh, yes — the name on the wagon. At least she wasn’t calling him “Professor.”) “Well, you sit at my table with him like civilized people, if you feel the same way afterward, you can go on your way and despise him as much as you like. Now out of my kitchen, you’ll make me burn the roast with your nonsense.”