They Called Her Mrs. Doc.

by Janette Oke

  “I’ll be home in plenty of time to prepare your supper,” Cassandra informed him and kissed him on the cheek.

  The shock of hair that still slipped over his forehead was silver-gray now. Cassandra found it just as attractive as when he had been a young man. She raised a hand to run her fingers through the hair, a bit thinner now but not a lot, and pushed it back into place.

  “Take your time,” he said to her, knowing how much she enjoyed short drives in the country.

  She changed the dressing on the leg, concerned that the sore was not healing as it should be, then washed her hands and joined Mrs. Fleming at her kitchen table. They were new people to the area and Cassandra felt they needed to be shown special friendship while they got acquainted with new neighbors.

  They sipped coffee, though Cassandra had never tasted such bitter coffee, and chatted. The woman seemed hungry for companionship and Cassandra kept one eye on the clock, knowing that she should be on her way home but reluctant to leave until the woman had enjoyed a good visit.

  I must come more often, she thought as she finally excused herself.

  The woman walked with her to the buggy, still talking, still unable to say her goodbye. At last Cassandra had to take leave and the woman stood and waved until the buggy had left the lane and was back on the country road. Cassandra saw her wave one last time, turn and walk toward her house, limping slightly on the troublesome leg.

  “She does need company,” Cassandra mused. “Poor soul. I must tell Virginia. She has more time for neighborhood calls then I do and is awfully good about taking in a cake or some cookies. I’m sure she’d go.”

  Cassandra looked at the sky. It was late in the afternoon. She was late. Samuel would surely beat her home. He’d be wondering where his supper was long before she returned.

  She pushed the mare, coaxing her into a brisk trot. The road was rutted and the buggy bounced, but Cassandra braced herself and clucked to the mare again.

  She was almost to the edge of town when the accident happened. If she had not been so preoccupied with hurrying home, she likely would have seen the covey of partridges. But she was concerned about Samuel’s late supper. The mare didn’t seem to notice the birds either. Not until there was a whirring of wings and a splash of color and movement as the whole flock lifted at the same time and seemed to spin into multiple directions.

  Before Cassandra had time to react, the mare bolted. Her hands had been holding the reins loosely, so she was unable to gain quick control. Before she knew it the buggy was bouncing down and across the ditch and then she felt it going over. There was nothing to cling to but the reins, and of course they gave her no support. She fell heavily, hitting the hard-packed earth with her hip and elbow. She felt a searing pain surge through her at the same time she heard the frightened whinny of the mare and the buggy smack against the ground and pieces splintering all around her.

  And then something hit her head with a dull thud and all went black. Cassandra lay where she had fallen. She heard the story of the accident later, piece by piece, from one person or another during her days of recovery.

  The mare, after freeing herself of most of the buggy parts, continued on home in a frantic state, dragging bits of buggy tongue and harness along with her. It was Mr. Hick who caught up to her in the street. He managed to quiet her and release her from some of the pieces that had her spooked. Then he hurried down the street to the doctor’s house. He expected to meet Cassandra and hated to inform her that Doc must have had an accident or the mare had broken loose from some hitching rail.

  But it was Samuel who met him on the porch.

  “This yer horse, ain’t she?” said Mr. Hick.

  Samuel took one look and said under his breath, “Oh, dear God. Red has had an accident.”

  He didn’t bother to grab his coat. Just jumped in his new Ford and started down the road toward the Flemings. He had left the town before he realized that Mr. Hick was in the car beside him.

  “Now, hold on, Doc,” the man was saying. “Horse might have just broken tether.”

  It was possible. Samuel knew that it was possible and he prayed with all his heart that it might be so.

  But they had not gone far before they spotted the broken bulk of the buggy in the ditch. Doc pulled the Ford over to the side of the road and fairly jumped from the rolling vehicle.

  They found her there, crumpled and unconscious. They lifted her gently, and tenderly transported her back to town.

  Samuel stayed with her day and night. On the third day she stirred, opened her eyes and looked at him in confusion.

  “You had a little mishap,” he said in answer to her unasked question.

  “What happened?”

  “I’m not sure. Old Bert ditched you for some reason.”

  Cassandra frowned again. There was something in the back of her mind. If she could only—She was sure that the secret was locked there, if she could—

  “Don’t worry about it now,” said Samuel. “It’ll all sort itself out in time. It’s good to see you awake. How do you feel?”

  Cassandra tried to take stock of her body. Everything seemed to ache and nothing seemed to work.

  “You tell me,” she answered him candidly. “You’re the doctor.”

  Samuel waited for a moment and then replied truthfully, “You got a pretty good shaking. Bruised an arm and broke your hip. They’ll mend. It was your head I was worried about.”

  She lifted her good hand and then cried in alarm, “Samuel. You’ve shaved off all my hair!”

  “Had to,” he apologized. “Had to see where you got hit.”

  He paused and let his gaze drop to his hands that slowly clasped and unclasped as he held them before him, his elbows leaning on his outspread knees. At length he cleared his throat and lifted shadowed eyes to gaze directly into her green ones.

  “It was one of the hardest things I’ve ever done,” he confessed. “Like taking off an arm—or a leg.”

  Cassandra knew his anguish and ached for him. At the same time she felt her own loss. For the first time in her entire life, she would have loved to have her head covered with her own red hair. Any color would have been preferred to no hair at all.

  She let her hand drop. She didn’t know whether to weep or to laugh.

  Oh, dear God, she prayed quickly and then turned to Samuel. “I must be a sight,” she said with emphasis.

  He leaned over and kissed her. “You are beautiful,” he said.

  Then he straightened and his eyes took on a teasing glow. “You know—I believe it emphasizes your green eyes.”

  “Oh, get—” cried Cassandra, and then began to chuckle softly.

  What did it really matter? It was getting to be more gray than red anyway.

  During her long days of convalescence Cassandra had more callers than she could count. Virginia fashioned a lacy bonnet for her head, “So I won’t scare away any visitors,” Cassandra told her wryly. Women came with pies and cakes and stews and fried chicken. There was so much food in the house that Doc had to call a halt, and Virginia wisely organized the carry-ins so that the Smiths were supplied without having excess piling up in the icebox and pantry.

  Children came—just to chat or to entertain her with one of their pets.

  Even the menfolk came, keeping her posted about the new calves, the state of the crop, or the danger of early frost to her rose bushes.

  Sallie Jo and Adam called almost daily and Cassandra loved their visits. They were really getting quite grown up and could be a good help, as well as good company.

  Cards and letters came frequently from other family members. Christina and George drove up a number of times from Lethbridge and Thomas and Ann came down from Calgary. Vivian could not come and it bothered her. She called often on the phone and begged her mother to take her time in recovering and then to take the train to Montreal and spend some days of recuperation with her.

  Peter wrote, feeling far away and helpless to give any aid to the family in their
trying circumstance.

  But true to Samuel’s word, she did heal. And her hair even began to grow back in. At first it seemed fine and fuzzy. Almost like a baby’s head. But it thickened and gained more body, and Cassandra was pleased that she would soon be able to lay aside her cloth bonnet and let her hair be her natural covering.

  “Well, I guess God answered my prayer,” Cassandra remarked dryly to Virginia one day.

  When Virginia asked which prayer, Cassandra said, “You don’t know how many hours I spent asking Him to change the color of my hair when I was a child. Well, He has. Though it does seem a bit late.”

  Virginia smiled.

  Rather than a heavy head of red-turning-gray hair, Cassandra now had short, slightly curling soft white hair.

  “It’s pretty, actually,” said Virginia. “It becomes you.”

  Cassandra nodded. “I know,” she said with a smile, mimicking Samuel’s teasing. “It emphasizes my green eyes.”

  Chapter Twenty-three

  Life Goes On

  It was almost two years before Cassandra felt that her hip was working properly again. Even then it would cause her a few twinges when the weather changed or when she was on her feet for too long at a stretch.

  But she was thankful to have full use of her limbs and began to plan another spring garden. Her children all cautioned her not to overdo it and she promised them, one by one, that she would be careful.

  It was still hard for her to believe that she and Samuel now had married grandchildren.

  “Before we know it, we’ll be great-grandparents,” Samuel remarked one day as they closed the door to his office. “No wonder I have less energy than I used to have.”

  “I haven’t noticed you slowing down any,” countered Cassandra. He still worked far too hard. The children were constantly begging him to retire, but he shook his head.

  “I haven’t heard of a younger man who wants my practice,” he would say. “The people in Jaret still have tummy aches and broken bones. They need a doctor—and I need something to do with my time. There never was a good fishing hole around here.”

  No fishing hole. No young grandchildren. Even Adam had grown and left him. Cassandra really didn’t blame Samuel for wanting to keep his hours filled. She didn’t know what he would do if he didn’t have his practice.

  “It’s different for a woman,” she said to Virginia as they sat at tea one day. Virginia now had difficulty holding her cup properly, for arthritis had twisted her fingers, but they still took tea together on the front porch whenever Virginia could join her.

  “Women always have their work,” Cassandra went on. “The cooking, the cleaning, the many household chores. Even if I stopped going down to the office, I could still fill my days. Especially now that I don’t move as fast anymore.”

  Virginia laughed. “I find I’ve gotten so slow that my days aren’t long enough to do the necessary chores,” she admitted.

  “But for our menfolk,” continued Cassandra, “quitting work is a whole change of life. I don’t think Samuel would be happy—I really don’t.”

  “No,” said Virginia, struggling with both hands to get her cup to her lips, “Morris wouldn’t be either.”

  “He still goes in every day?”

  “Every day but Sunday,” replied Virginia, then added with a chuckle, “And I am thankful. Can’t imagine how it would be to have him at my elbow all day. He’d be bored—and I’d be crazy.”

  They both laughed, then changed the subject to bring each other up-to-date on the latest events among their family members.

  “I almost hate the thought of going to Montreal,” Cassandra said to Samuel. They were packed and ticketed, heading for another grandchild’s wedding, but this was the first trip that they had taken to the East for some time.

  Samuel took her arm to assist her up the steep steps to the Pullman. “Why?” he asked innocently. “You know Vivian is counting on us—but if you’d rather not go—”

  “Oh, I wouldn’t think of backing out,” hastened Cassandra. “She’d be sure to jump to the conclusion that I wasn’t feeling well or something.”

  “And you are?” asked Samuel. He had continued to be concerned ever since her accident, even though she had many times assured him that she was fine.

  “I’m fine,” she said again and gave the words a bit of a punch.

  He chuckled. “Well, you still have your spunk, anyway. I’m glad for that.”

  They found their seat and settled for the long ride. Cassandra was glad that they would not need to be sitting the whole time but could retire to berths as soon as the train was on its way.

  “What were you saying about Montreal?” Samuel reminded her.

  “What about Montreal?” asked Cassandra. Things seemed to slip her mind more easily than they had in the past. She often wondered if it was because of the bump on the head.

  “You said that you almost hated to go there,” Samuel reminded her.

  “Oh yes. That. Nothing much, I guess. Just a feeling. It’ll seem strange with Mama gone and the old house sold, that’s all.”

  Samuel nodded.

  Cassandra knew it would be difficult. Her mother had passed away while she’d been bedridden with her hip, so she hadn’t been able to go to the funeral. But she did thank God with her whole being that Vivian, with God’s help, had finally been able to get her mother to understand that she needed to prepare herself for death and heaven. A few days before she had died, she had done just that—asking God, in Jesus’ name, to accept her as His child.

  “Well—it will be nice to see Vivian—and the family,” said Cassandra. She knew that would give the trip meaning.

  “This is her last. Her little tag-along,” commented Samuel. “Things will be changing for her as well.”

  Cassandra’s eyes clouded. She knew how Vivian would be feeling. She felt that she knew all about change. She had experienced a few changes of her own. Without thinking she raised a hand to gently ease her silver hair under the brim of her new navy hat. She thought the hat quite becoming—especially as it contrasted with her white hair.

  “Yes,” she mused. “Yes—changes do come. Sometimes gently—sometimes harshly. But they do come.”

  “What was the hardest of life’s changes for you, Red?” Samuel asked, curling his fingers around her hand. He still called her “Red” even though there wasn’t a bit of red to her hair anymore. She supposed it was just habit—but she had grown to like his pet name.

  “I don’t really know,” she answered slowly. “Guess the hardest was going west.”

  He looked surprised at her admission.

  “That was hard?” he asked.

  She smiled at him and shifted her hand so she could wrap her fingers around his also.

  “You’ll never know how hard,” she answered honestly.

  “I didn’t know,” he said and seemed surprised that he hadn’t understood.

  “You were much too busy to see it. First the house. Then the practice. Then children—building—patients—you were a busy man.”

  “Well, I shouldn’t have been that busy,” he admitted. Then he continued softly. “I don’t suppose it’s coming at the right time—but I’m sorry, Red. Really sorry. I had no idea you were finding it so tough—but I should have been more—more sensitive.”

  “I got over it,” she sighed. “Virginia did it for me. Virginia—and finding God.”

  “I remember,” he said, toying with her hand. “I was so surprised when you told me you hadn’t known God all along. I couldn’t believe it. I mean—I had no plans to marry a woman who didn’t know God.” He waited for a few moments, drawing a meaningless pattern on her palm with his finger. “And I was so busy being a doctor that I didn’t catch that either. I’m sorry.”

  “I thought I did know Him. If you would have asked me, I would have answered, thinking I was being perfectly honest, ‘Yes, I know Him.’ I didn’t know the difference between knowing about Him and knowing Him personally.” She
let her thoughts drift for a moment, then pulled them back. “Well, I do now.”

  “Yes,” he said. “Thanks to Virginia.” Then he sighed and leaned back in the seat. “That was a long time ago,” he reminded her.

  “Yes, a long time ago,” she agreed.

  What was there about long train rides that made her get so philosophical? Maybe it was simply because one had to take the time to sit and think. There was nothing else to be done. Perhaps the train ride would be good for her, after all. Perhaps it would be good for both of them. They had been together almost constantly for many years—and yet there was never time to really sit and reflect—to talk about thoughts and feelings and—growing. Cassandra changed her mind about the trip. She was glad they had this time to be together—just the two of them.

  They had been home for only four days and were just getting back into the swing of things when Cassandra’s whole world changed. A change that she had not counted on. The hardest change of her life.

  She was at the cupboard doing up the breakfast dishes before going down to the office when there was a loud pounding on her door.

  “Mrs. Doc, yer to come quick,” gasped young Will Moore when she answered.

  “What’s wrong?” she asked him, fear gripping her.

  “I dunno,” the boy replied. “I was jest told to get you on the double.”

  He was panting hard so Cassandra was sure he must have followed orders.

  There must be some emergency, said Cassandra to herself. Samuel wouldn’t call me away from my kitchen chores unless he needed me badly.

  She didn’t stop for her shawl. The day was mild. She didn’t even stop for her hat. It was one of only a few times that she had left her house without her hat firmly in place.

  She would have walked right out and left the back door open had not Will noticed and stepped forward to close it behind her.