by Jo Goodman
“It’s cancer,” she said. “Belly cancer, most likely, from his description of the symptoms. Probably intestinal, colon more specifically. Do you know where the colon is, what it does?”
“Yes. Never saw human parts, but I’ve shot, skinned, and dressed enough deer and elk and slaughtered enough cows and pigs to know about the parts.” Ben realized he was still holding her elbow. He released her and touched his fingertips to his furrowed brow. Closing his eyes, he rubbed gently. “Jesus, Mary, and Joseph,” he said under his breath. “It’s a death sentence, isn’t it?”
“Yes. I’m afraid so. I don’t think there’s anything else that would have dislodged him from Frost Falls. Maybe if you shot him from a cannon, but I have my doubts about that.”
“What about that teaching position he talked about? Was that a fiction?”
“No. My father offered that to him as an inducement to return to Boston. There are new protocols for the type of cancer we think he has, and my father wants him to have the best care.”
“So he really is your godfather.”
“He is. I only met him twice, both times when I was very young, but we kept up a steady correspondence over the years so it is not as if I didn’t know him.”
“All right. I can understand better why Doc left, but what the hell was he thinking encouraging you to come here?”
Her chin came up. “I am choosing not to be insulted by your question, and I think we should go. I have a patient waiting, don’t I?”
“Yes, but—” He stopped because she was already on the move. He let her go a ways before he double-timed it to catch her. “We’re almost there. That’s Jeremiah’s forge on our right that we’re about to pass, and that’s his house over there.” He pointed off to his left where murky yellow light from a pair of oil lamps outlined windows on the first floor. “Hannah will have come home from school by now. She wasn’t here when I stopped in earlier. She’s eight, maybe nine. Clay is ten. There’s Lizzie, who’s three, and Ham, short for Hamilton, who is four. The little ones will be pleased to make your acquaintance. I can’t speak for Clay and Hannah. They are very protective of Lily.”
“Why should my visit threaten them?”
“They know there could be retribution if their father finds out, and they can’t depend on Lizzie and Ham to keep a secret.”
“Where is the father now?”
“Jail.” He couldn’t tell whether that surprised her, but he did not think it did. When they reached the narrow path to the house, he led the way. “Jeremiah won’t be there much longer unless Lily wants to press charges.”
“So you did speak to the sheriff,” she said. “I wondered when he didn’t stop by and then again when he didn’t accompany you.”
“You’ll meet him directly, I expect.” And now he was grateful for the dark because he didn’t have to look her in the eye. He rapped on the front door and waited. The sounds he heard coming from the interior were similar to what he’d heard before: some shouting, thumping, a squeal, and pounding feet.
“I think someone just peeked out the window,” she said. “I suppose they’ve learned to be cautious. Oh, there’s that little head again. It’s the little girl. Lizzie.” The child abruptly disappeared. “I think one of the older ones just pulled her away.”
“Wouldn’t surprise me,” said Ben just as the door began to open. His view into the interior of the house was no wider than before. Clay blocked the entrance with his body. “I told your mother I would be back to check on her. Here I am.”
Clay’s bony chin jerked sideways. “Who’s she?”
“I’ve brought a friend. She’s going to help your mother.”
“Yeah?” Clay opened the door wide enough to poke his head out for a better look. In the daylight, the sun would have given his coal black hair a blue cast, but just now it was barely distinguishable from the gloomy interior of the house. “Is Ma expecting her?”
Ben exhaled a frustrated breath. “Enough, Clay. Let us in.” He was aware of Clay’s hesitation and wasn’t sure how the standoff would be resolved. He did not want to push his way in, but if Clay gave him no choice, Ben was prepared to put this particular obstacle over his shoulder.
Dr. E. Ridley Woodhouse stepped away from Ben’s looming shadow. “Clay, is it?”
“Yes, ma’am.”
“Well, Clay, your friend Ben asked me to accompany him because he’s concerned about your mother. I understand she’s hurting, and he thought I could help. I need to speak to her, though. If she wants me gone, I’ll go, but I need to hear it from her.”
Ben watched Clay step out of the way as though moved off center by a force outside himself. He thought it was probably less about what the doctor said, and more in the way of how she said it. She must have sized Clay up and gauged her approach from there. She gave the boy straight talk, not sweet talk, and the result was “Open Sesame.”
The front room was dimly lit. In addition to an oil lamp on a side table in front of the window, there was a second lamp on a gate-leg table beside the sofa. Lily was still lying on her side, the compress and the blanket exactly as they had been when Ben was there. He couldn’t tell if she had moved at all.
Eight-year-old Hannah was leaning over the back of the sofa. She had a brush in her hand and was gently using it to sift through her mother’s hair. Lily was a redhead like her older daughter, but hers had darkened to rust years ago and the murky yellow light revealed threads of gray at her temple. Hannah paused brushing long enough to give Ben a shy, sweet smile. For the other visitor, she had a green-eyed stare that had as much to do with jealousy as it did with the color of her irises.
Lizzie was curled on the end of the sofa near her mother’s feet and lay with her head against Lily’s thigh. She stirred but didn’t surrender her place to Ham, who was perched on the arm of the sofa like a plump bird of prey.
Ben was prepared to make introductions, but the doctor surreptitiously nudged him with her elbow, and she was the one who identified herself to the family.
“I am Ridley Woodhouse,” she said, lifting her black bag from her side and holding it in front of her much as she had done upon meeting Ben at the station. “I hope I am not unwelcome, Mrs. Salt. I would like to speak to you alone, examine your injuries in private, if you will permit it.”
Lily stared at her from her uninjured eye, but she spoke to Ben. “You said you were coming back, Ben. You didn’t say anything about bringing somebody with you. This is a bad idea.”
“I didn’t say anything because we would have had this argument earlier, and I didn’t see the point since I was going to do it anyway.”
Lily put some effort into a wan smile. “Never could stay mad you. Don’t know a soul who can.”
Ben shrugged. He did not turn his head away from Lily, but his eyes swiveled sideways to the doctor. “There’s some who try harder than others.”
Hannah stopped brushing her mother’s hair and set the brush beside the oil lamp. Her expression remained suspicious of their guest. “Doc Dunlop had a bag like the one you got. Guess that means the new doctor’s arrived, but I don’t see why you’re here and he ain’t.”
“Hush, Hannah,” said Lily. “I don’t like your tone. There’s no cause for disrespect.”
Hannah clamped her mouth shut. The line of it was mutinous.
Ben thought that Ridley might set Hannah straight right then, but the doctor said nothing in defense or explanation.
What she said was, “I’ll need more light. A second lamp on that table would be helpful.”
Ben lifted his chin in Clay’s direction. The boy did not need more encouragement than that. “How about I take the children into the kitchen? We’ll play cards. Hannah, do you have a deck of cards?”
The girl’s head bobbed once, but she didn’t look pleased at the prospect of leaving her mother’s side. Young Ham, on the other hand, was n
odding excitedly. He jumped down from his perch, gave a little yelp when his bare feet hit the floor, and then danced in place on tiptoes, while his sister went in search of the cards.
“What about that one?” Ben asked, nodding toward Lizzie. The little girl could barely keep her eyes open, but he was afraid that she would cause a fuss if he removed her from Lily’s side. She was attached like a burr.
Clay returned at that moment with a lamp. “I’ll take her. She’ll come with me.” He set the lamp on the table and turned up the wick. The flame flicked and then was still. He adjusted the wicks on the other two lamps and then looked to Ridley Woodhouse for approval. “I can bring another, if you need it.”
“No. This will be fine. Thank you.”
Clay nodded. He put a hand on his brother’s shoulder to stop the dancing. “Go on with you, Ham. In the kitchen.”
Ham ducked from under Clay’s hand and ran off, still on tiptoes.
Ridley watched the boy go. “Does he speak?”
“Sure. When he has something to say. Most times you can’t shut him up, but this ain’t one of those times.” He bent over the sofa to scoop his sister into his arms. He made a comfortable cradle for her; she burrowed against his thin chest. “I’ll put her to bed. Tomorrow, she won’t recollect how she got there.” He headed for the stairs, stopped, and turned to Ridley.
“I know who you are.”
“Yes,” she said. “I told you.”
“No, I mean I know what you are. I remember what Doc said at his farewell shindig. Woodhouse. That’s you. Dr. Woodhouse. That’s your bag.”
“Yes.”
“I’ll be darned,” said Clay, and then he was climbing the stairs.
Chapter Five
Ben shuffled the cards while Hannah and Ham argued over whose turn it was to deal. Clay was silent on the matter, occasionally sharing a very adult, long-on-suffering look with Ben. They’d been occupied with cards for almost an hour, and the bickering was indicative of tiring of the activity. There was mostly silence from the front room. Sometimes they could hear the women talking, but it was muted and unintelligible. Once, they stilled and quieted when Lily’s cry of pain cut through their laughter, and for a moment they could not look at one another. Guilt had them all staring at the table, even Ben, although he knew Lily would want her children to be distracted and that their laughter was as much a healing balm as anything Dr. Woodhouse could apply.
Ben stopped shuffling and squared off the deck, tapping it lightly against the table before he set it in front of him. “How about we do something else? Do you know any card tricks?” They shook their heads, and Ben feigned deep disappointment. “I have a few up my sleeve.” He reached under his jacket at the wrist and produced an ace of diamonds.
Ham slapped the tabletop with his chubby little palm. “Do it again!”
Ben shook his head, but he stretched his arm toward Ham and then produced a four of spades as if he’d drawn it from the boy’s left ear. Ham laughed, delighted, and clapped his hands together for an encore. Ben was slower to respond this time. He had not failed to notice that Ham flinched when Ben extended his hand. It simply could have been a natural reaction to the surprise of someone reaching for him. Or it could have been in expectation of something else. Ben held his question. This was no time for an interrogation, and in any event, Ridley would have interrupted it because she suddenly appeared in the kitchen doorway holding Lily’s compress.
“May I have a clean cloth?” she asked.
Ben started to get up, but Clay was already on his feet.
“Wet or dry?”
“Wet, please, and thoroughly wrung out.” While Clay went to do her bidding, she crooked a finger at Ben and then stepped back from the threshold so he would follow her. When he stood in front of her, blocking the children’s view, she opened the folded compress and showed him the crusted bloodstains. “I wanted you to know about this. I’ll take it with me and wash it out. There’s no reason for the children to see it.”
“That was covering her eye,” he said. “She was bleeding from her eye?”
“No. I found cuts on the underside of her forearms and cleaned them up.”
“He cut her?”
Ridley Woodhouse shook her head. “She did this.”
Ben stared at her.
“I’ll explain later, but I’d be so grateful if we could stop at the sheriff’s office on the return. It could wait until tomorrow, I suppose, but I’d rather not.”
It occurred to Ben that this was another opportunity to tell her she was speaking to the sheriff, but he had no difficulty talking himself out of it. The Salt home hardly seemed the proper place. “Her husband’s there in the jail. Better there’s no chance of him overhearing anything you want to tell the sheriff.”
“All right. Then it will have to be at my house. You did say he would come by to investigate what happened in the surgery.”
“Maybe he’s already been.”
She looked doubtful. “I suppose.”
“Right. Guess I could stop in on the way back and tell him there’s one more thing he ought to know.”
“Yes. He can’t release Mr. Salt yet. He just can’t.” To press her point, part frank statement, part plea, she took a step toward Ben, lifting her chin just a fraction. The hallway narrowed, or at least it seemed that it had, and her breath caught unexpectedly when he didn’t retreat, didn’t waver. With her face tilted toward him, he calmly regarded her. She didn’t blink. For some reason that made her feel marginally better, or just a tad less annoyed with herself.
“I’m sure he’ll hear you out, but if Lily’s cutting herself to make Jeremiah look worse than he is, well, he’s got to know that, too.”
“Don’t you say that to him,” she whispered. “Don’t you dare. It’s not true. You get him to my house and I’ll do the explaining.”
Ben opened his mouth to speak, but Clay appeared and inserted his hand and the damp cool cloth between them. Ridley thanked him, took it, and hurried away. Ben returned to the table.
“I think you’ll be able to see your mother soon,” he told them, pulling up his chair. “Seems like they’re almost done. Any of you want to tell me more about what happened the other night? How it started, maybe?” Ham had taken the cards and spread them out in front of him. He turned them over one at a time and never looked up. Hannah stared at her fingertips resting on the edge of the table. Clay’s expression was downright impenetrable. “No? Perhaps some other time. You know where to find me if you get to feelin’ loquacious.” When Ham’s head popped up, Ben explained. “Means chatty. If you get to feelin’ there’s things you ought to say, I’m telling you to drop on by.”
Having said his piece, Ben left it there on the table for them to think over. He swept the cards toward him, ignoring Ham’s protest, and settled the earlier card-dealing argument by distributing the cards himself. “Queen of hearts is still the old maid, right?” When they nodded, he fanned the cards in his hand and looked them over. “And I’m calling out cheaters this time. No more looking the other way. I’m done being the old maid.”
Of course, he wasn’t done. To the delight of the children, especially Hannah, he was the old maid twice more before Ridley appeared again.
“You can come see your mother now,” she told the children. “She’s sitting up, but you have to be gentle. Her shoulder’s tender and it will be for a while. She’ll need help getting upstairs to bed and after that with work around the house.”
They nodded in unison, full of promises as they pushed back their chairs and hurried to the front room. Ben was the last to get up from the table. “I’ll help her up to bed this evening after the children say good night.”
“That would be my preference, but upon reflection, I think it would be better if Clay helped and you stood back to lend a hand if it’s needed.”
“I can do that.”
“Thank you.”
Ben expected her to immediately return to the front room. When she didn’t, he asked, “What is it? You have a frown line right here.” He pointed to the space between his eyebrows. “Except it’s on your face, not mine.”
“Fool.” She pressed the crease with her fingertips, ironing it out as she briefly closed her eyes. “Did you notice how the little one ran on tiptoes or the balls of his feet?”
He nodded. “That’s new. Don’t know where he picked it up. You should ask Lily.”
“I did. She said the same thing. She noticed it shortly after her husband struck her this last time.” She dropped her hand back to her side and opened her eyes. “Do you think he will let me examine his feet and ankles? I’m concerned about his tendons.”
“I can hold him, if you like. Try to keep him still.”
“I hoped you’d say that.”
“Next time, just ask.”
“Of course.”
Her short reply, delivered in a voice that was barely audible but not because she was trying to whisper, told Ben everything he needed to know about her level of exhaustion. When she turned to go, he fell into step behind her. Lily was not the only one who might require a helping hand.
As it happened, Ham would have stood on his head if Ridley had asked him. He happily climbed onto Ben’s lap and settled in. He giggled and shivered when the doctor ran her forefinger along his arch.
“Tickles, does it?” she asked.
“Uh-huh. Again.”
“In a moment.” She used the pad of her thumb to test the ball of his foot and also on his heel. When she pressed on his heel, he winced. She nodded to herself and felt for tenderness all around his ankle. That did not bother him in the least. She repeated an examination of the other foot with the same results. “Clay, will you bring one of the lamps over here? Hold it just above us so I can have a better look.” When Clay complied, Ridley lifted one of Ham’s feet and studied the base of his heel. “Hannah. Would you remove the tweezers from my bag and hand them to me?”