What Heals the Heart

by Karen A. Wyle

  The laundryman was somewhere in the back of his shop, busy with his work, when Joshua arrived. Joshua called to him, got no answer, and made his way back, weaving between the padded tables, staying clear of the vats of steaming water, the mangle, and the hot irons. He saw Li and waved vigorously, managing to get his attention after a couple of minutes. Joshua kept the letter in his vest pocket, where it would be mostly protected from the steam, and retreated to the front room.

  Li Chang soon emerged, wiping sweat off his forehead, and bowed politely. Joshua did his best to match the gesture and pulled out the letter. “This came for you today.”

  The laundryman reached for the letter with a suddenly shaking hand. He broke the seal and unfolded it, started to read, and let out a wordless cry of anguish, followed by a torrent of Chinese. Joshua studied his boots until the man fell silent, and then looked back up at him. “I’m afraid I have brought you bad news.”

  Li had tears in his eyes. “It is my wife who writes. She and my mother tried to board the ship, but they would not let her. They would have let my mother go, and my wife tried to persuade her, but she was afraid to go alone.”

  “So they are still in China?”

  “They are in China, and they will stay in China. My mother had only a little money with her, but she tried to bribe the official. They threatened to arrest her. My mother —” He sobbed aloud, wiped his eyes, and managed to go on. “My mother collapsed. When she was able to stand, the official told them both to get out and not to come back. My wife writes that they have plenty of money now, because they were not allowed to buy their passage, so I do not need to send any.”

  Joshua clenched his fists in futile rage. “I am so very sorry. I wish there was something I could do.”

  Li stood up straighter. “There is something I can do. I can go home.”

  “And leave everything you have built here?”

  Li seemed to have aged years in minutes. “I came here to make a better future for my family. Now there is no future for them here. So I will go home.”

  Joshua looked around the laundry. “I will spread the word that there is a good business here, wanting a buyer.”

  Li reached out his hand, American fashion. “I thank you, for this and for what you tried to do, writing to your government. Only an American would try such a thing. I did not expect it to work, but I thank you.”

  Joshua wrung his hand wordlessly and left. When he had reached the street, he vented his feelings in as long a string of curses as he could manage, careless of who might be listening.

  As he finally ran down, he heard steady footsteps to his left. He looked over to see Clara. She looked behind Joshua, and her mouth tightened. “Were you visiting Li Chang?”

  “I brought him a letter that came for him. You can guess what it said.”

  Clara took a deep breath and came out with a stream of cussing that would have done a soldier proud. He stopped short and stared at her. She kept walking; he caught up, in time to hear her say wryly, “I learned more than nursing in the war. Sometimes it’s good for the health. Wouldn’t you agree, Doctor?”

  He nodded gravely. “I suppose I do at that.” He felt like smiling, but refrained. It felt wrong to smile with Li Chang not far away, standing in the building he was abandoning, his dreams dissolving away like the steam from his laundry.

  Joshua spread the news about Li Chang’s laundry as widely as he could. He supposed he should have expected that people would come to him to discuss the business, even though Li’s English was quite good. The people who had stopped by so far seemed to think that the Chinaman would have to sell for a pittance. Joshua very much hoped that Li would wait for a better offer.

  The knock on his office door sounded too vigorous for a patient. He went to open the door and barely avoided a double-take. Silas Finch, the cordwainer, stood in the doorway shifting his weight back and forth, his hat in his hands.

  “I come about the laundry. Folks say you’re selling it for the Chinaman.”

  Joshua waved him to a chair and sat back down in his own. “Not exactly, but I am authorized to answer preliminary questions.”

  “I’m meaning to branch out. I don’t figure on spending that much time in the laundry, not with my other business, but I could hire some young fella who’s tired of farming.”

  Joshua had his doubts that such a youngster would be meticulous about cleaning spots and starching collars, but so long as the man was willing to buy Li out for a decent price, Joshua would put aside thoughts of his own future as a customer. “What were you thinking of offering?”

  The cordwainer named a sum higher than anyone had previously mentioned. Whether it was sufficient, Joshua wasn’t sure. “I’ll pass this along and see what Li Chang has to say.”

  “I appreciate it.” There seemed little else to discuss, but the man stayed put. He said abruptly, “Dolly Arden and me, we’re getting hitched.”

  After Freida’s warning, the news came as no sort of shock. “My congratulations. She’s a wonderful woman.”

  “She tells me you were sweet on her.”

  Joshua raised his eyebrows, not sure whether to be irritated or amused. He could hardly protest that she might be exaggerating the nature or degree of his interest. He fell back on self-deprecation. “I always knew that Mrs. Arden was too rare a blossom for a tired old sawbones like me. I’m sure you’ll be very happy.”

  The man seemed a little taken aback, as if he had expected Joshua to make some last-ditch challenge for Dolly’s affections. He said with the truculence that such an effort would have deserved, “I aim to be good to her. Her and the little girl both.”

  Joshua said gravely, “I am very glad to hear it.” He stood up. “I’ll let you know as soon as I’ve talked to Li Chang.”

  The cordwainer shoved his chair back hard enough for it to rattle on the floor, nodded, and stumped out. Joshua stood looking after him and shaking his head.

  The man seemed sincere in his intentions. But Joshua would keep an eye on the family, just in case. And maybe, months or years down the road, he could find a way to be friendly with them, and to see Hope now and again.

  * * * * *

  The arrival of the Wells Fargo stagecoach always brought a crowd. Joshua rarely joined it, but he was hoping Tom Barlow’s prosthetic leg would be among the parcels. He was not sure Major was savvy enough concerning wagons and such to stay clear of the wheels, particularly given the distractions of many people and much excitement, so he took the precaution of shutting the dog inside his rooms, wincing as Major whined his objection.

  The others waiting noted Joshua’s presence, accounting for it with guesses from practical to hilarious. When the stagecoach pulled in, the long narrow package the courier hauled out for him provided enough of a clue for many in the crowd to figure out. He could hear the news passed around in appropriately hushed murmurs.

  He lugged the parcel into his office and laid it on his examining table, opening first the parcel and then the case inside. The leg proved to be a handsome object, if viewed as such — ash-brown wood polished to show the grain, shaped in the likeness of a slender limb and foot, with a joint in the ankle and a strap rising from the upper portion to a cuff that would go around the lower thigh.

  He had patients with more urgent needs that afternoon, but the next morning he rode out to the Barlow farm, carrying the case by putting one arm through its strap. Someone must have told Tom that the stagecoach had come through, for he hobbled out to meet Joshua with his homemade crutch, looking both expectant and nervous. Joshua hoisted the case; Tom grinned.

  “Let’s go into the house, and I can show you how to put this on.” The last thing Tom needed was to get grit or straw where the prosthesis met the stump.

  Joshua directed Tom to doff his trousers and sit in an easy chair. Tom was willing to do so only when his sister had taken herself elsewhere. His mother stubbornly stayed put. “I’ve seen a lot more of you than that, and you might need help with the thing at fi
rst.”

  Tom was already wearing something like a large sock over the stump. Joshua would have bet that his mother or sister had knit it specially. “That’ll do nicely for a start. If you can get something with finer thread, it’ll chafe less once you’re wearing the leg for longer periods.” Tom’s mother gave a determined nod.

  Joshua opened the cuff, placed the wooden leg in position, and fastened the cuff closed. He handed Tom his crutch and positioned himself to take Tom’s weight on the other side. “Let’s get you standing up. Easy, now.”

  Tom wobbled a bit getting up, but Joshua was able to hold him steady. “Rest as much weight on the leg as you can, and tell me how it feels.”

  Tom shifted his weight accordingly and said in an uncertain tone, “It feels strange.”

  “It will, naturally, until you get used to it. Do you have pain in the stump?”

  “Not much.” The boy’s grimace suggested otherwise, but Joshua withheld any challenge.

  “The skin will toughen up if you don’t overdo it the first few days. Let’s get you sitting down again. We’ll have you stand up again a few more times, and then try walking.”

  Walking went less well. Tom would have fallen if Joshua had not managed to catch him. The boy looked ready to cry.

  “Don’t be discouraged. It takes practice. I’d wager you’ll be getting around easily with the crutch in a week or so, and without the crutch not long after. Just remember not to have it on for more than ten minutes at a time today, and move to longer times by degrees.”

  The boy was biting his lip now. Joshua gave him the excuse he needed to sit down again. “Let’s get that sock off and see how your stump is holding up.”

  To his relief, there were no actual abrasions, though the skin had reddened in spots. “I can sand the end down if necessary, but being as it’s polished, I’d like to hold off on that.”

  Tom’s father came in just as Joshua was leaving. He turned on his heel and walked out again with Joshua, asking him in a low voice, “What will the lad be able to do?”

  “He’ll be able to walk around almost like anyone else once the stump toughens up and he gets the hang of it. But he won’t be able to stand nearly as long at a time. He’ll need to keep dirt and such out of the mechanism and the sock, so his trousers will have to be tucked into his shoes or boots. And the more he has to bend over and straighten up again, the greater the chance of chafing in the stump or where the cuff fits.”

  The father’s jaw tightened. “You’ve just described a lot of our day around here.”

  “I’ll keep my ears open for anything he could do in town, if you like.”

  The father nodded glumly.

  Riding back to town, Joshua suddenly recalled the cordwainer’s plans for expanding his business holdings. Could Tom possibly do the work in the laundry? Joshua rather doubted it, but once he had returned Nellie-girl to the livery stable, he headed to the laundry to talk to Li Chang.

  The laundryman was barely visible for the steam all around him. Joshua tried to picture a stool in such a room. Metal would become slick with moisture; wood would deteriorate over time and have to be replaced. Though perhaps the metal could be roughened in some manner — but then, wouldn’t it rust?

  Joshua had heard several people complain that Li had become less friendly. He had mostly restrained himself from asking how friendly they would be under Li’s circumstances. But Li’s manner with Joshua remained unchanged, or a little more cordial. Joshua asked him about whether a man who could stand for no more than a half hour at a time could take over his work. Li shook his head. “I stand all day. And still my customers complain that they wait too long for their laundry. If I stopped to sit down, they would complain more.”

  Joshua moved on to the cordwainer’s offer, which he had not yet had a chance to convey. Li’s face fell. “I was still hoping for more. But maybe no one will pay more. What do you think?”

  Joshua put up his hands, disclaiming expertise. “How much longer are you willing to wait?”

  Li’s lips tightened. “Maybe one week, maybe two. This country does not want my kind. I do not want to be here any more.”

  Walking down the street, Joshua considered Tom’s remaining options. Was there anything better for him than farm work? In what profession could he spend much of the day on a stool or in a chair?

  Some possibilities would require more book learning, or capacity for the same, than Joshua judged Tom to possess. Work with his hands would be the thing . . . .

  What about working in leather? Tom must have grown up keeping saddles and horse tackle in good condition, at least. Maybe the cordwainer would be open to having more assistance in his original business in order to spend more time at the laundry — though the disdain with which many white men viewed the job might prove a deterrent. Or he might have a use for Tom even if he found some other farm lad for the laundry work.

  He headed for the man’s shop to sound him out. As he approached, he was at first disconcerted to see Dolly approaching from another direction with a covered basket. Apparently the cordwainer did not always make it home for dinner, or was not yet dining with Dolly, engagement notwithstanding. But Hope was skipping along by her mother’s side. Dolly would refrain from any noticeably awkward conversation in Hope’s presence. Joshua doffed his hat, trying to take in both Dolly and Hope in the gesture.

  Dolly smiled up at him as if there was nothing at all that might make her do otherwise. Hope started to run toward him; Dolly grabbed her hand. “Manners, Hope!” Joshua supposed that the child needed to learn not to run to adults without an invitation, but he felt a pang at the thought of lifting her and hoisting her into the air.

  “Howdy-doo, Mrs. Arden, Miss Hope. Here on an errand of culinary mercy?”

  Hope giggled at his multisyllabic phrasing, though Joshua doubted she knew just what he had said. Dolly smiled, though without her once-familiar twinkle. “Silas is working so hard, he wouldn’t even eat if I didn’t bring his food to him.”

  Joshua seized on this unexpected opening, despite his qualms about raising his proposition indirectly through the cordwainer’s fiancée. “If you think Mr. Finch could use some help in the shop, especially with the likely acquisition of a second business, I know a young man in need of just such a position, who would be grateful for it and work hard to show that gratitude.”

  Dolly tilted her head, eyes bright. “You may be sure I’ll suggest it, even urge it. Would this by any chance be the poor young fellow who lost his leg?”

  “Yes, Tom Barlow. I thank you on his behalf. You will be doing both of us a kindness.”

  For the first time, she seemed self-conscious, looking down at the basket she carried. “I will always be happy to do you a kindness, Doctor Gibbs.”

  Hope started tugging on Dolly’s hand. “I want to show Mister Doctor the cake I made!”

  Joshua attempted to forestall any more admonitions by saying, “If your mama is willing, I would very much like to see it. I’m sure it’s a fine example of the baker’s art.”

  So urged, Dolly relented and allowed Hope to approach him with the basket. “Hold it carefully, now. It would be a great shame if anything were to fall out.”

  Hope held the basket out toward him while still clutching the handle. Joshua considered himself as well as the child bound by Dolly’s instruction, unwrapping the contents carefully and just enough to expose the slice of moist apple cake resting next to a large chunk of bacon. “I’m sure Mr. Finch will enjoy it greatly.”

  Hope beamed and carried the basket back to Dolly. As soon as she had handed it over, she started bouncing on her toes. “Mama, when can Mister Doctor come to dinner again?”

  Dolly blushed. Joshua waited for her to look at him and then said gravely, “If at some point, Mr. Finch and I become better acquainted, I would look forward to such an invitation. In the meantime, may I hope to see both of you at the social library from time to time?”

  Dolly smiled again. “Indeed you may. Hope is alw
ays demanding fresh stories for me to read to her.”

  Joshua had never redeemed his promise to read Hope more of Alice’s Adventures in Wonderland. Had Dolly done so, or had the book sat neglected until returned to the library?

  They had stood there in the street long enough. Joshua tipped his hat again and took his leave, hoping Dolly would remember her promise to speak to her fiancé about Tom. Dolly’s charms would make a better advocate than anything Joshua could muster.

  Turning, he could hear Hope chattering to her mother as they entered the shop, the cordwainer’s rough voice, softened as he greeted them both, and Hope’s shrill giggle. The child’s future stepfather was fond of her, then, and Hope comfortable with him. Joshua’s relief almost outweighed the sense of loss as he walked away.

  Chapter 28

  Joshua had by now installed Clara as his assistant. As he had expected, the arrangement, as well as their journey preceding it, had led to considerable public comment, some of it along infuriating lines. On one of his trips to the general store, he heard the owner’s wife say to her husband in a stage whisper, “I always knew there was something wrong about her. No decent unmarried woman would spend hours with an unmarried man unchaperoned.” As she was pretending she could not be overheard, he had little choice but to pretend not to overhear her. He dearly wished he could afford to place orders for goods by telegraph with eastern concerns and have them shipped, rather than continuing to benefit the couple with his custom.

  Others stared goggle-eyed at a woman who, they thought, was holding herself out as almost a doctor. Joshua privately thought she would make an excellent one, but reluctantly discussed with Clara whether it would be worth the expense of procuring a nurse’s uniform, “nurse” being a better understood position. Clara, more pragmatic than he, not only thought it sensible, but had saved one of her wartime uniforms with the intention of reusing the fabric. It was badly stained in places, but Li Chang, nearing the end of his time as a laundryman, bleached it so thoroughly as to weaken some of the thread and was able to make it respectable again.