Harp on the Willow

by BJ Hoff

  For a moment, a memory he’d thought long buried rose up in him, shaking him with almost painful clarity. The memory of another field where he—along with other doctors—scrambled to tend to countless wounded and dying soldiers. A field where pain-racked men and boys lay strewn like so much debris, brought down by the senseless destruction of war. A war between brothers and even fathers and sons. A war that to this day caused survivors to agonize over its final resolution.

  But at least that destruction had given birth to something of value: the gift of freedom for an entire people. But by any stretch of the imagination, today’s disaster held nothing but meaningless tragedy.

  “Daniel—”

  Addie Rose’s voice brought him up short and called him back to the present. “We should go back.”

  He nodded and, taking her arm, started walking.

  Long after sunset, Daniel came upon the lifeless form of one of the last few explosion victims. Cormac MacMahon. So minimal was the outer damage of MacMahon’s body that at first Daniel found it hard to believe the man was gone. He searched desperately for some sign of life he might have missed in his quick initial examination. But there was no mistaking the bleak reality of MacMahon’s death.

  With trembling hands, Daniel covered the body of the deceased. In spite of his suspicions about MacMahon, he felt a burden of regret and even sadness for the man’s death, but even more, however, for that of his wife. Especially given his own personal remorse that he hadn’t done more for Glenna. Whether it would have made any difference for her or not, only God knew.

  But Daniel knew that at least it would have made a difference in him. As it was, he would carry a leaden measure of guilt in his heart for a long, long time.

  If only… What a nagging burden those two words could bring to bear.

  For several moments—until Addie Rose came in search of him—he stayed on his knees in the dirt, praying for Cormac and Glenna MacMahon, and then seeking his Savior’s forgiveness… and the grace to forgive himself.

  TWENTY-SEVEN

  QUESTIONS

  If one does not question, nothing will change.

  ANONYMOUS

  The days following the mine disaster seemed long and leaden. Daniel had all he could do not to give in to the weariness and depression that threatened to weigh him down. But in addition to the numerous funerals he attended, he still had office hours and patient calls to keep up with, so he did his best to maintain a schedule, and a rigorous one at that.

  Thanks to Addie Rose—and he was increasingly thankful for her—his office continued to run as smoothly as ever. These days she accompanied him on patient calls more often than not, and her sense of order and serene assistance kept him from lagging behind on these as well.

  But there was one element to his days that not even Addie Rose could alleviate: his anger. Anger at the greed and the callousness of the mine owners and bosses, including Judson Gormant, who had sent the men down below, away from their families, with only a minimum crew of workers and virtually no backups to scout and maintain safe working conditions. Never mind that the miners had volunteered. They’d done so because they needed the work. They did it for the money, and possibly even because they hoped to win a bit of favor with the company that employed them.

  As if the company was even aware of their needs or their hopes.

  If it ever occurred to Daniel that at least a part of the anger churning in him might also be related to his feelings of failure regarding Glenna MacMahon, most of the time he managed to block the thought. Or at least harbor it in the recesses of his mind.

  In what little free time he managed to eke out, he had already begun to quiz Dominic and one of the other foremen about any hazardous conditions in the mine. At first the two men seemed reluctant to confide what they knew. Dominic had even gone so far as to issue a warning. “You go asking too many questions and the company finds out, you might just bring a piece of trouble down on yourself. I’d be careful who you talk to if I were you.”

  “You told me yourself there were more than a few hazards down below,” Daniel reminded him.

  “That I did, but I didn’t mean you should be taking what I told you anywhere else.”

  “Don’t worry. I’m not mentioning what I’ve heard or where I heard it. Just asking some questions, is all.”

  Dominic shot him a piercing look. “And what would you be planning to do with what you hear?”

  “Maybe nothing. It depends on what I learn. But knowing the mine isn’t safe makes me wonder if there might not be a way to bring about some improvements.”

  Dominic’s glare darkened. “Listen to me, boyo. You’d do well to remember that there’s no such thing as a safe coal mine. Any man among us who goes below knows only too well he might not be coming up again. That’s the chance we take. It goes with the job.”

  “But surely there are some safety measures that could be put into effect?”

  “You’re thinking we haven’t tried to make our jobs as safe as possible? The bosses have been approached time and again, but to push too hard means risking your job. Not a one of us can afford that.”

  “All the more reason it would be better for someone who’s not a miner to bring certain safety issues to their attention.” Daniel paused. “Someone like me.”

  Dominic crossed his arms over his chest and studied him.

  “That might be or might not be. But as I said, I’d be careful who I talk to.”

  “Advice taken.”

  Saturday afternoon, as he reread the letter he’d just written to the company office, Daniel again thought about Dominic’s warning and wondered anew what the miner might have been hinting at. His demeanor had been curiously uneasy, his tone even troubled when he’d issued his caution to Daniel. Yet he had stopped short of asking him to keep his silence.

  What had been behind his peculiar warning?

  Did it really matter? Daniel was determined to find some way to improve the safety conditions in the mine for those men whose backbreaking work supported their families and the community of Owenduffy. Bleak as the locale might be, it was home for numerous families, many of whom had left the countries of their birth in search of a better life for themselves and their loved ones. At the very least, they deserved a safe working environment—one that could only be provided by their employers.

  If he raised a few hackles in the process of improving the miners’ conditions, so be it. Something needed to be done to help these hardworking men who risked their lives every time they went to their jobs. He had meant what he said to Dominic. It might be best if someone who wasn’t a miner were to raise the safety issues instead of one of the miners, whose job might be threatened by what could be viewed as interference or even agitation.

  After all, it wouldn’t be the first time an Irishman stuck his finger in a stew not of his own making. The worst that could happen would be a bit of a burn.

  Unless, of course, the stew boiled over.

  That afternoon, he hung the “Closed” sign on his office door and walked over to Miss Gladys’s house. This was moving day for Addie Rose, and he intended to help however he could.

  To his surprise, she had indicated that her parents, although understandably concerned at first, had finally accepted her determination to move in with the ailing spinster. As expected, Dominic had given her a hard time in the beginning, but apparently he seemed to be taking her decision in stride. At least, Addie Rose had confided, her father had ceased lecturing her about the “foolishness” of her latest move toward independence.

  She was candid in admitting that she suspected her father’s change in attitude was most likely due to the influence of her mother. “Mum accepted the reality that I’m no longer a child some time ago. I’m guessing that she managed to convince Da of that fact as well.”

  For his part, Daniel was exceedingly grateful that Miss Gladys had accepted the idea of a companion as easily as she had. He had feared that she might fight the idea, but ever since the day he
’d found her passed out on the floor, badly shaken and disoriented, she had seemed much more open to his suggestions and advice.

  In truth, that actually bothered him a little, this change in behavior from the determined and independent soul she had once displayed to the almost childlike demeanor she exhibited these days. Naturally, he was careful to suggest only what he sincerely believed would be in her best interests, but at times her easy acceptance still caught him off guard, and he actually missed the more feisty Miss Gladys he’d grown accustomed to.

  He was pleased, though, to see that she clearly welcomed Addie Rose’s arrival. She had already insisted that her new companion take advantage of the comfortably furnished, attractive bedroom across the hall from her own. Moreover, while Daniel and Addie Rose carried in and arranged her few wardrobe items and personal effects, Miss Gladys hovered nearby, occasionally offering a crocheted piece or a small decorative item “just to add a touch of color to things.”

  In fact, by the time they carried in the last of Addie Rose’s belongings, Daniel was relieved to see that both she and Miss Gladys were clearly satisfied with their new situation. He found himself enjoying their obvious satisfaction, almost to the point that when the work was finished he felt reluctant to leave.

  But when he did leave, his reluctance in no way diminished the sense of relief that accompanied him, relief that Miss Gladys would no longer be alone all the time but would now have someone in the house with her, at least in the evenings and at night. He had already learned that dusk and darkness definitely increased her disorientation, and attacks of fear seemed to strike her more often lately. Addie Rose’s presence might not mean an end to those attacks, but just the presence of another person would surely help to comfort her.

  As he rode home, he wondered, somewhat whimsically, if there was any situation at all that Addie Rose couldn’t improve simply by being present.

  The thought brought a smile, quickly followed by the somewhat discomfiting awareness of the difference her presence had made in his situation.

  More to the point, the difference she had made in his life.

  But what about Serena?

  Indeed. What about Serena? He had neither seen nor heard from her lately. Not that it should be entirely up to Serena to get in touch. Admittedly, he should have made some gesture toward her, some effort to ease the awkwardness that seemed to hover between them these days. But if he were to be entirely truthful with himself, hadn’t he purposely delayed making contact with her, uncertain as to how to go about it or how he would be received?

  Or to be even more honest, did he even want to go about it?

  The sudden unbidden question startled him, and he immediately tried to rationalize it, reluctant to examine it too closely. Of course he wanted to set things right with Serena. He hated this uncomfortable distance that had settled between them. After all, he was in love with her, wasn’t he?

  Another question he was unwilling to examine too closely.

  TWENTY-EIGHT

  AN UNPLEASANT SURPRISE

  The grey, chill day

  Slips away with a frown.

  JAMES STEPHENS

  Daniel had never made a practice of having his evening meal at Helen’s Mountain Inn. He usually indulged himself with a hefty enough lunch that by evening a light snack satisfied him just fine. Today, however, he had actually skipped lunch because of a late morning with patients, followed by an even busier afternoon.

  Now that his day was finally coming to a close, he sat alone at a small table by the wall at Helen’s, taking his time with the meal while making some notes on Molly Frazier, his last patient of the day. A young mother of eighteen years, she had come to the office with her infant son in hopes of getting some medication for herself after describing a series of ongoing sick headaches.

  At first Daniel had suspected the fatigue and tension that could sometimes accompany the first few weeks of motherhood. After examining her and talking with her, however, her symptoms had begun to puzzle him.

  As he sat reading through his notes, something occurred to him that he hadn’t grasped during the examination. He almost groaned aloud when he realized what he’d missed. While he had been looking for something more serious, the fact was that every symptom pointed to the fact that Molly Frazier needed eyeglasses!

  He determined to call on her as soon as possible—hopefully tomorrow—and let her know that an eye examination would most likely confirm what he now suspected. In the meantime, he reminded himself that too often he caught himself fretting about the worst-case scenario for a patient when sometimes a simple answer was right in front of him. He couldn’t help but wonder if other physicians erred in this manner on occasion.

  He drew in a deep breath and passed a hand over his face, keenly feeling the weariness and fatigue of what had been a long, strenuous day. It didn’t help that the headache with which he’d begun the morning seemed to have settled in place again for the evening.

  Glancing around, his gaze froze on a table at the far end of the room. It took a moment for the identity of the four occupants to register, but there was no mistaking the profile of Addie Rose. Seated across from her was an attractive young girl with the same rich, fiery shade of hair and a strong resemblance to Addie Rose. In the chair beside the girl—who looked too much like Addie Rose not to be her younger sister—was Clay Holliday, Stephen and Esther’s son, while at Addie Rose’s side sat a nice-looking fellow with broad shoulders, a strong profile, and a thick shock of dark hair.

  Daniel couldn’t help but stare. Addie Rose was laughing at something the unknown man at her side had said while shaking her head as if in good-natured protest.

  Daniel’s throat locked, and he struggled to get a breath, but he couldn’t seem to look away. Shaken, he gripped the hem of the tablecloth to steady his hand.

  He was vaguely aware that it was unreasonable for him to have assumed there was no man in Addie Rose’s life. Why wouldn’t there be? She was young, exceedingly lovely, and no doubt would catch the interest of any number of potential suitors. It was altogether understandable that she would be romantically involved with someone. Why would he have expected anything else?

  And why is that bothering me so much?

  He had absolutely no business entertaining any thoughts about her personal life.

  Addie Rose was his employee, nothing more. She had every right and reason to be involved with someone special.

  Even if that weren’t the case, there was no excuse for the angst now grating at him. After all, he had his own romantic interest, didn’t he? There was no denying the fact that he spent an inordinate amount of time considering the prospect of marrying Serena.

  At least there was a time when I considered it….

  It occurred to him now with a stab of conscience that he couldn’t actually remember the last time his thoughts had taken that turn. He’d made no attempt to see Serena since they’d had dinner together a number of evenings ago. And—more to the point—he had scarcely thought of her since then.

  In truth, however, he could not make the same claim about Addie Rose.

  Almost reluctantly, he turned his gaze back to her. Not for the first time, he noticed that her hair was streaked with a sheen of its own that had nothing to do with the evening light filtering in through the windows or the candle glow wafting from the table. It was as if the sun had polished it earlier in the day, and it still retained its radiance. Her profile was delicate, yet precise and even strong. He knew well the lines of her slim shoulders, having often seen her bend to comfort a frightened child or share her own strength with an elderly grandmother in pain.

  And there was no denying that more than once he had been tempted to clasp those graceful shoulders when he sensed her empathy and her longing to help a suffering patient.

  Shaken, he forced himself to look away. Then, without finishing his meal, he scraped his chair back from the table and quickly crossed the room.

  Addie Rose saw Daniel fumbling to p
ay his bill and then hurriedly push through the exit. Surprised that she hadn’t seen him earlier, she wondered why he hadn’t at least come over to their table to say hello. Perhaps he simply hadn’t seen them. If he had, surely he would have stopped by. Not only to say hello to her, but as a close friend of Stephen Holliday, no doubt he also knew Clay well.

  She tried to ignore the disappointment that settled in as she watched him leave. Her sister Elly nudged her just then and said her name in a low voice.

  “I’m sorry?” she said, feeling her face heat.

  “I asked you if that chocolate pie is as good as it looks. I think I might try some too.”

  “Oh. Yes, it’s fine.” The truth was that she had scarcely tasted the pie. Its flavor had died in her mouth as she watched Daniel leave the restaurant.

  The others went on talking then, but Addie Rose found it almost impossible to concentrate. She couldn’t seem to think about anything else but Daniel. Even at some distance, there had been no mistaking the fatigue lining his features or the uncommon pallor of his skin. For days now, he had seemed exhausted. Once she even ventured to suggest that he take a few hours off.

  It had been no surprise when he’d simply smiled and shook his head, murmuring something about the ever-increasing patient list. If there ever was an example of a doctor being too dedicated, Daniel Kavanagh was surely it. More than once she had wondered if he ever got any real rest. She had the feeling that even after office hours—perhaps long after office hours—he continued to practice medicine, if only in his mind.

  Addie Rose knew it wasn’t her place to worry about him. He had certainly been a doctor long enough to know his own limitations. But she feared that knowing those limitations and heeding them didn’t necessarily work together for Daniel. She sensed that he seldom thought about himself at all, much less gave any consideration to his own well-being. That being the case, there was clearly no good reason for her to spend her own energy doing so. And yet she couldn’t seem to keep her thoughts off him for any length of time.