Letters on the Table

by Pattie Howse-Duncan

  “Join us, Murph.” Doc sat holding his coffee cup with a quarterback’s grasp. “Katherine and I started this ritual about eleven years ago. We begin our workday enjoying our first cups of coffee facing east and watching the birds bathe outside the window. Now we’ve become such creatures of habit we’re afraid we might jinx ourselves if we tried to start our day any other way.”

  Katherine handed Mr. McGregor a cup of hot black coffee while Doc moved her chair over to make room for a third.

  “Cream and sugar, Mr. McGregor?”

  “Just black. Thank you.” He studied her face and enjoyed it.

  She turned away, feeling her cheeks reddening, realizing she caught him looking intently into her eyes. That’s only fair, thought Katherine, knowing she had often done the same to him, inconspicuously, on the many occasions he’d brought his wife through the back door.

  They sat in silence for the first few sips, transfixed by the activity in the birdbath. Life was peaceful in this spot. Quiet. Calming. No conflict. No quagmire.

  “You spoil me, son, with the wood you bring me, and I know I’m not the only one you surprise with a fresh cord of hardwood just as soon as the woodpile begins to look slim. I bet I could name at least a half-dozen who tell me you spoil them the same way. No telling how many others you do for, ones I don’t even know about.”

  “It feels good to give, Doc. You do it every day. Let me have the pleasure of knowing what that feels like.”

  More silence.

  “Katherine, I didn’t bring you any firewood, but I do have something in my truck I’d like to give you.” He paused and then added, “That is if you want it. A sack of shelled pecans. This year’s crop?”

  Katherine searched his face to see if he had any idea what that could possibly mean to her. A sack of shelled pecans had been anonymously delivered to her back door every year she lived above Graham’s Diner. A pixie gift.

  “I’d like that very much, Mr. McGregor,” was all she said, but Doc read her face and knew exactly what she was thinking.

  “But, please, only on the condition you stop being so formal and begin calling me Murphy. That’s what all my friends call me. I insist.”

  “Well,” she paused, and then with a genuine smile added, “Murphy it is.”

  Doc said with complete authority, “Okay, as long as we’re tossing around conditions, I have one to add. New rule.” Moving to the window and pointing outside to Murphy’s truck, he said, “Your morning coffee comes with a caveat. Bring that beautiful dog of yours inside during our morning coffee time. Doesn’t seem right we’re in here solving all the world’s problems and he’s out there watching your every move.”

  And so the coffee trio, plus a large, clumsy half Golden Retriever/half Heinz 57 mutt named Baxter, began and continued for several years. Katherine and Doc never knew when Murphy would join them but she always set out a third cup just in case, and a nibble of a leftover for Baxter, and when she remembered someone’s favorite pie was lemon chess, there was usually a slice or two on hand. Murphy’s ability to join them for coffee depended on the level of calmness at Beechwood. Many mornings Marianne slept until almost noon, but there were plenty of nights she never slept, never laid down and never stopped moving. Murphy knew she was a walking time bomb when she worked herself into that kind of manic state, and he stayed close to home on those days.

  There was an unwritten rule on the early mornings when Murphy and Baxter were able to join them for coffee and it was never broken. Marianne’s situation was never discussed.

  Running out of topics was never a problem for the triad of coffee drinkers; politics, religion, war, travel, literature, Hollywood, life in Kingston, ecology, baits, and lures. They communicated life’s experiences without reservation and agreed on almost every issue, at least the important ones, for sure.

  It was through these casual conversations Katherine grew to understand the real Murphy McGregor. In her mind, age lost its hierarchy, and she eventually stopped focusing on the twelve-year difference between them. She saw past what most people didn’t. He was the only philanthropist Katherine had ever known and she found him fascinating, especially knowing he preferred his philanthropy be anonymous. But he was so much more than just a man of great wealth and prominence. It was his intelligence and humanitarianism that propelled him. He was a man who stood valiantly for social justice, protecting Earth’s lands and waters and sustaining all that had been handed to him. And his wit could light up the room like a box of Roman candles on a hot July evening. He had one of those strong laughs that made it impossible for you not to join him. A contagious laugh. One that made her eyes dance. His trim build kept him looking much younger than many comrades his own age, especially the ones who allowed gravity to grab hold of their waistlines. It was more than his dark eyes set against his flawless complexion and russet hair that made him so strikingly debonair. The crow’s feet around his eyes were proof his face had been accustomed to smiling his entire life. His appearance, his dress, and his confidence made women of all ages take long second looks hoping to fix his image permanently in their minds.

  Murphy enjoyed all the early morning stories, whether he was the storyteller or the listener. He eloquently told stories about the countless places where he’d journeyed as a boy and then later visited as a pilot and as a man trying to be a good steward of all that his ancestors had acquired. His stories took them to so many different places around the world that Doc eventually tacked a large world map on the wall so they could track the locations of Murphy’s exploration.

  Katherine was surrounded by two men who were equals in intelligence and humor. The time shared by the threesome in the early hours grew to become the greatest delight in this stage of her life. She did not allow herself to wonder how it might change if Murphy’s wife became healthy again.

  It was obvious to Murphy how profoundly connected the other two were to each other. He enjoyed watching them, the doc and the nurse, taking care of one another.

  “I love her like she’s my own. Easiest thing I’ve ever done in this world is to love this gal,” Doc said innumerable times. Murphy was always struck by the simplicity of their friendship. And the tenderness.

  He was curious to know more details of the disappearance of Katherine’s father, but she never spoke of it and Murphy was much too genteel to ask. He knew it was the one unsolved mystery in Kingston’s history and wondered if he was in a position to find some answers. Perhaps he could do that for her. She certainly deserved to know. It was a thought he often contemplated on the drive to and from Beechwood. It wasn’t just the mystery of her father’s disappearance he pondered. Thoughts of Katherine often lingered in his mind.

  In time he learned through their morning ritual that her mother died of a massive stroke when Katherine was a senior in high school, and it was then that she moved in with Doc and Mary Nell before heading to nursing school in Gentry. He made the assumption Doc must have paid for nursing school, but, almost as though she’d read his mind, she said, “I was the Kingston High School Class of ’52 recipient of the McGregor Fellowship.”

  “My grandfather started that endowment, and I’m sure no one has or will deserve it more than you.” He then forced himself to take his eyes off Katherine, once again struck by how drastically different their childhoods had been. His was one continuous adventure, and hers was unjustly raw. She could have turned into a woman quite different from the one he saw before him. She was an enigma to him. And why she had never married completely baffled him.

  Doc had a lighthearted way of teasing Katherine about so many things, and Murphy enjoyed watching their banter. Doc was especially pleased with himself the time he explained to Murphy about the highly contagious airborne disease that had for years mysteriously contaminated the entire town of Kingston. The one he officially labeled the “K Syndrome.”

  “Now don’t you dare start that up again!” Katherine ple
aded, but the laughter in her voice only enticed Doc to embellish it further.

  Doc rubbed his temples, disturbing the hair that over the years had turned the color of his lab coat. He expounded as if presenting new research to his peers at a medical conference. “I call it a virus, but it technically seems to be more like some type of unexplained magnetic attraction. Appears to strike predominantly in the male species and young children, but mind you, females are quite vulnerable also. Unsuspecting folks go about their normal day, and then certain circumstances arise that put them in the company of my sweet nurse, and they go…” Doc looked at the ceiling, pretending to search his mind for the precise medical term. “Well, for lack of a better word… goo goo.” They all laughed long and hard at his exaggerated expression of shock and bewilderment. He continued, “Grown men stumble and stutter and can’t seem to get their tongues to fit their mouths. Young children just want to climb in her lap or hold her hand. For that matter, so do a few of those men!” Doc laughed merrily at his own joke, and Murphy eagerly joined him.

  “Now, just stop all this malarkey,” Katherine insisted, standing with her hands on her hips in hopes of stealing the authority, but Doc was undaunted.

  “It’s been so serious a couple of times, I’ve had to tap on a man’s wedding ring to remind him he was married and try to help him stop slobbering!”

  “Oh, for Pete’s sake, Doc!”

  Murphy played right along with it, as though he and Doc had rehearsed their lines. “You say even young children are highly susceptible?”

  “Yes, indeed! I’ve seen it happen time and time again. If a child gets lost in a big crowd in town, they seem to seek her out as if she is a lighthouse of sorts. I’ve seen it happen at least a dozen times over the years at the Christmas parade, and you know how big a crowd that draws, the whole town turns out for it. It’s also potent in the clinic. I’ve had kids screaming at the top of their lungs in my examining room, but all she has to do is enter the room, and it’s like someone pulled their plug. They reach for her like she’s their own mama and that’s when I know she has them under her spell. It’s frightening, I tell you!”

  “If you don’t stop all this nonsense, I’m going to start telling a few on you!”

  But Doc had more he wanted to share. “It’s a wonder she made it out of nursing school. Legend says she had many a resident and a gaggle of attending physicians walking around the hospital all spellbound. Seems like I remember something about the hospital’s chief of staff having the worst case of the K Syndrome. I hear the only remedy is to move clear across the country because once you’ve been exposed, you rarely recover.”

  Katherine stood in the middle of the room with her arms across her chest, giving her best stern look, which only made Doc and Murphy bellow even harder.

  They didn’t have to say it aloud. These two men shared apparent knowledge. They knew if you tucked a woman’s blonde hair under her nurse’s cap and then dressed her in a starched white uniform, complete with thick white stockings and rubber-soled shoes, you would hide a great deal of the femininity in most women but it was impossible to douse Katherine’s. She radiated beauty, no matter what she wore.

  There was one topic that remained off limits during their morning conversations. Doc’s private office was the place for Murphy and Doc to talk of Marianne’s fragile condition. The two men often retreated there after their coffee ritual as Katherine began pulling files, organizing medical instruments, pulling up the window shades, and turning on the lamps in the waiting room. Honoring doctor-patient confidentiality, Doc always kept the door to his private office closed while talking to those patients needing to disclose personal information. It was different with Murphy though. Doc kept the door slightly ajar, allowing their conversation to drift through the clinic like cigar smoke snaking its way through a room. The men could hear her tinkering as she went about preparing for the day, and she could hear most, if not all, of their conversation. What Murphy would not know for years to come was that Katherine was the source of several ideas Doc presented to ease the heavy burden Murphy dealt with at Beechwood.

  Early one November morning Katherine heard the heaviness in Murphy’s voice, thick enough to cut with a knife. “My marriage has been loveless for almost its entire existence, and now it seems it’s becoming lifeless. If I could just think of something that would make her want to get out of bed in the morning. I don’t know what else to try. She no longer cares how she looks or what she wears. Nor do her friends call for bridge or to gossip. On good days, it’s as though someone vacuumed out her soul and left her skeleton to rattle around the house. Other days she’s a demon with the strength of you and me combined, and she regrets she’s ever drawn a breath of life.”

  Doc’s tone was gentle. “You’ve dutifully tried every clinic and hospital that could help her. I mentioned this idea some time back and I’m going to say it again. I think you might need to add another person to your staff. Not someone else to maintain the house and gardens or the timber, but maybe Marianne needs someone whose only responsibility is to care for her in ways you no longer can.”

  “What are you saying, Doc? Fish or cut bait?”

  “Find someone who will love her on the good days and boss her on the ugly ones. Marianne extinguished your love years ago, and you have none left to give. What you have for her now is your loyalty. She’s lucky to have married a man who’s still willing to provide that.”

  “I learned years ago I wasn’t going to make her happy. I just thought I could make her healthy again. She resents me when I leave, hates me more when I return, and screams at me when I try to stay.”

  “I know just the woman, have known her for years, who could handle Marianne. I never mentioned her before because I knew you still had hope and I was saving this idea until all your hope was gone.”

  “Tell me more.”

  “It’s Katherine’s Lily Mae you’ve heard us talk so much about. She’s the one who has called Katherine “Queenie” since the summer her father disappeared. Lily Mae Warren has been a widow most of her adult life. She’s big. Big in many ways. A big, buxom woman with a big set of lungs and a big dose of determination. She’s available to start now, you just give the word. I can have her here this afternoon to meet you. She owned her own alterations business, with start-up money your folks gifted her when Katherine was young, and only recently sold it for a nice profit. I knew she wouldn’t stay still for long; she’s already looking for something else to occupy her time. You’ll like her immediately, guaranteed.” Doc intuitively knew what Murphy was thinking, and he added, “and Murphy, it’s important for you to know she’s loyal. All she sees and hears will be kept confidential.”

  Katherine could tell by the lull in conversation someone had rested his head in his hands. Perhaps Murphy. Perhaps Doc. Probably both.

  “I guess I need her. I’m tired, Doc. I need something or someone big to come in and take over.”

  “I’ll call you later in the day. Son, trust me. Life’s going to get better. I promise. And one more thing. I want you to go by and meet the new rector at St. Thomas, Father Drew Keller. We Episcopalians can be proud of him. He’s a gentle sort, and when you meet him, you’ll know exactly what I mean. One can’t help but be drawn to him.”

  “I’ll do it.” His voice searched his soul for optimism but found none.

  Katherine stepped inside Doc’s office the second she heard the back door close. With his back to her, Doc studied the photo of Mary Nell, his beloved departed wife. He turned slowly and with the slightest hint of satisfaction asked, “How quickly can you get Lily Mae here?”

  “The only thing that would stop her from answering the second you beckoned would be a pie she just put in the oven.”

  They locked eyes and smiled. This was a plan Katherine suggested to Doc months ago, but Doc had to wait until Marianne McGregor hit rock bottom before he brought it up again to Murphy. And now t
he bottom had been hit.

  “Well, go on and call her. I hope you’re right. This could be our lucky day. Tell her to take her time, and we won’t turn down anything warm she pulls out of the oven.”

  “You know she’s going to ask me what this is all about. I’d like to tell her from my perspective, and then you can tell her from yours. Might be good to hear it from both of us before she decides.”

  “A young woman with an old soul. How’d you become so wise? And never mind answering, we both know. Just get Lily Mae here by two o’clock.”

  Katherine was halfway down the hall when she heard Doc call out, “I’m hoping for apple with a double crust.”

  As the clock in the reception area chimed two, Lily Mae Warren walked in carrying a round dish covered with a tea towel. Dressed in a plaid wool jacket and a crocheted beret, she looked as if she were all business and no fun, which made Katherine giggle.

  “What brings that smile to your beautiful face, Queenie?” Setting her aromatic bundle on the desktop, Lily Mae stretched out both arms to welcome Katherine into her embrace. Katherine inhaled deeply. She had loved that smell for most of her entire life. Lily Mae still smelled the same as she did the very first time Katherine met her. A little of strong soap. A bit of whatever fiber she was wearing, sometimes cotton, sometimes wool. Always a hint of something she had recently cooked. And in the summer, there was always a touch of fresh peppermint on her breath.

  Doc emerged from Room 2, already rubbing his belly. “Is that Lily Mae I hear making all that commotion? Lord, I swear I can smell apple pie on her.”

  “Something just told me today needed to be a double-crust-apple-pie day.” Doc saw the wink she shot to Katherine and he chuckled.

  With taste buds popping, Doc addressed both women, “Well, let’s get in here and sample this apple pie before I explain our proposal. You might turn me down on this one, and I wouldn’t blame you. Understand?”