What Heals the Heart

by Karen A. Wyle

  Clara’s uncle wrote to her parents, a letter Clara described as combining indignation, hope, and concern. She herself wrote back, but as to the content of her response, she had little to say.

  Just as Freida had said, the medicine show had been leaving town for up to two weeks and returning for far shorter periods. During one of the latter, Joshua recalled his earlier intention and asked for samples of the pitchman’s potions. He half expected the man to go back on his offer to provide them, but Mr. Kennedy actually helped convey the main ingredients — absent agents used to add brighter color or an impressive fizz — to Robert’s for examination. Through smell, heating, dissolution, and very cautious tasting, as well as visual comparisons to various known medicines, they were able to identify not only foxglove but willow bark tea and several other Indian remedies, as well as a powder that, when dissolved in steaming water, appeared to loosen phlegm in the chest. Another resembled one of Joshua’s own preparations for settling the stomach. Others would, as best they could determine, have effects either soporific or intoxicating, while still others were likely to have no direct effect whatsoever.

  Joshua returned what was left to Mr. Kennedy, with his thanks and acknowledgment that their inspection fully supported the man’s claims. Mr. Kennedy was more gracious than Joshua thought he would have been under similar circumstances. The pitchman went so far as to acknowledge that his visits were likely to divert customers not so much from Joshua as from Robert, and suggested a remedy. “I would have no objection to making some recompense, on the order of twenty-five per cent of my revenues from my sojourn here. I would consider it a kindness if you would convey this offer to your friend. I believe he would be more receptive to it if so presented.”

  Given that Robert had been complaining of just such an impact, Joshua undertook to broach the subject.

  The pitchman still seemed to have something on his mind. He was not long in revealing it. “I will be leaving again, and for somewhat longer, having exhausted the sales potential of the neighboring counties. My absence will also give our mutual friend sufficient time to consider . . . that is, I have . . . .”

  What could put this man, of all men, at a loss for words? To ask the question was to answer it. “You have asked her to marry you.”

  Mr. Kennedy faced Joshua squarely and looked him in the eye. “I have. And I have asked her, if she can, to have an answer for me by the time I return.”

  The many questions that boiled up in Joshua’s mind must have occurred to Mr. Kennedy as well, and they had not deterred him. There was no point in raising them. Joshua simply said, “I see.” Finding nothing to add, he nodded curtly and left.

  Heading back to his office, he told Clara the news. Somewhat to his disappointment, she had no immediate reaction. Soon sensing that he expected one, she asked, “As I recall, you found him less objectionable than you expected. Do you believe them to be incompatible?”

  Somewhat at a loss, he could only reply, “I can hardly believe them to be compatible, even if he is not the scoundrel I first thought him.”

  She regarded him with what he feared might be disappointment. “What do you know of her late husband? What was he like?”

  Joshua tried to cast his mind back over the months to Freida’s praise of Samuel. “He had, she told me, plenty to say for himself. He would talk to her about a range of subjects. He liked to read plays aloud, and to recite poetry. And he had good manners.”

  Clara gave a little listening nod. “And does Mr. Kennedy share any of these attributes?”

  “Well . . . speech naturally comes easily to him. I can well believe him to have a flair for the dramatic. And he has made efforts to extend his knowledge in several subjects.” He could not help recalling the pitchman’s request that the crowd let Joshua’s buggy pass, on their first encounter. And his suggestion that Freida say a Jewish blessing. “And I suppose he has shown some signs of being considerate.”

  Clara studied his face as if seeking the answer to a mystery. “Then your objections must lie elsewhere.”

  His concerns tumbled out in a rush. “Elixir of foxglove is not a miracle cure, whatever claims he may make for it in his pitches. Freida’s heart is weak and will remain so. How will exposure to all the discomforts of travel, inclement weather and irregular meals, and a probable increase of exertion, affect her?”

  Clara looked at him soberly. “It is not, to be sure, what either of us would prescribe as an ideal regimen.” Her mouth twitched into one of her sardonic smiles. “Though I have not observed that Mrs. Blum is given to long periods of inactivity. She is more likely to be found bustling about town, deep in everybody’s business. And it would not greatly surprise me if she gives more attention to others’ meals than to her own.”

  Joshua’s next thought made him wince inwardly. “I asked Madam Mamie’s advice when I discovered Freida’s — kindness toward Mr. Kennedy. She suggested that Freida may be lonely. I have been trying for months to find a suitable companion for her, but I could make another effort during the respite afforded by Mr. Kennedy’s absence.”

  Clara’s face lit with barely suppressed laughter. “If even Mrs. Blum, with her admirable energy and determination, was unable to find you a proper match —”

  Mortified, he interrupted. “You heard about her efforts?”

  “My dear doctor, you cannot imagine them to have gone unnoticed in town. As I was saying, your confidence in believing you can be more successful is . . . admirable.”

  Joshua sighed deeply. “I will once again consult with Freida’s and my mutual friend Alton. It may be that some resident of Rushing would provide a less drastic alternative.”

  Alton poured a dram of whiskey for Joshua and another for himself. They sat at his kitchen table as Alton ran through the town’s widowers and bachelors. “There’s several farmers, but that’s out . . . . There’s a bank teller who’s unmarried, but he’s a dry stick of a man, hardly Freida’s type . . . .” He snapped his fingers. “The barber who took over the barbershop last month is a widower. He’s a stout fellow, a good match for Freida in figure, and has fine long whiskers.”

  Joshua frowned. “There’s no way of knowing, I suppose, how he treated his wife.”

  Alton held his whiskey up to the light, admiring its color, and took a sip of it. “You suppose correctly. But he seems good-natured enough. He talks to his customers, and none of them seem to take it amiss. And there’s nothing unpleasant about his manner with the ladies in town.”

  “Think you he’s looking for another wife?”

  “I believe I’ve heard him lament the life of a man alone. I’d say he’s your best prospect, given that you’re in something of a hurry. The question is, whom do we approach first, our barber or Freida?”

  Joshua drained his glass. “Why don’t you ask him in general terms whether he’d like to meet a goodhearted woman who loves to cook and take care of folks. Then I’ll get Freida to invite you over for another play read. If he’s interested, you give me a quick word once you arrive, and then — which of us should mention him?”

  Alton grimaced. “I suppose you’d like it to be me. It’s my turn, at that. Now how about another whiskey before you go?”

  Joshua grinned. “You’d better be saving your whiskey to fortify you for your visit.”

  Freida was more than willing to host Alton and himself for another reading. She offered Joshua his choice of the plays on her shelves, and he took his time reviewing them, hoping to find something particularly to his purpose. When he found a short adaption of Sense and Sensibility, a novel his mother had been proud to discover and had often discussed, he looked no further.

  They arrived, per Freida’s decree, in time for supper, and Freida served them a hearty and unfamiliar dish, sausage cooked with onions. “Jedidiah mentioned he likes it, so I practice for when he gets back to town, it’ll be a surprise.”

  She had to mean the pitchman. Joshua bit his tongue. Play first, then their own sales pitch.

  Al
ton and Joshua had flipped a coin to see who would play the dashing but unreliable Willoughby, and who the steady, reliable, and ultimately victorious Colonel Brandon. Freida obviously saw what they were up to, and responded by playing up Marianne’s passion for the unsuitable choice. When it came time for her to declare her new appreciation for the worth of the quiet, sober suitor, she delivered her lines with an almost comical lack of enthusiasm. Her last line closing the play, she closed the book with an emphatic snap and narrowed her eyes, glaring at Alton and Joshua in turn. “So before you bother telling me about the butcher or baker or candlestick maker I should meet, don’t waste your breath.”

  Joshua opened his mouth; Freida’s glare intensified, and he shut it. She took a few too-shallow breaths and went on, “Two grown men acting like little boys who won’t take ‘no’ for an answer, you should be ashamed! Jedidiah comes from nothing and still finds a way to make something of his life, you should be glad! You know by now, he doesn’t hurt anyone, he gives them a show for their money and some of them he even helps with his potions. He had to leave home because the people looked down their noses instead of giving him a chance, and now you do the same, you should know better, both of you!”

  Joshua gulped. “I must concede the justice of your reproach. But I have other reasons for concern about your evident . . . attachment to this man. The life he leads is hardly one I would prescribe for your condition.”

  Somewhat mollified, she reached out to pat his hand. “My condition, which you help me with, and I’m grateful. Tell me, my friend the doctor, have I gotten much worse in the last month?”

  “Thankfully, no. Which is why —”

  She hushed him with an imperious gesture. “So this last month, I’ve been taking Jedidiah’s foxglove-and-whatnot potion instead of your medicine and tea, and look at me, still above ground.”

  Joshua put his face in his hands, utterly routed. Alton filled the awkward silence. “I apologize on my own behalf as well for my unwarranted interference. Please believe that I, that both of us, acted out of concern for the welfare of a cherished friend.”

  Finally she smiled at them. “It’s all right, I should know about trying to help, I’ve stuck my nose in people’s business often enough. I’ll get the pie, it’s cherry this time.” Her smile was triumphant. “Jedidiah’s favorite.”

  Alton, who had ridden over from Rushing, left as soon as he had praised and enjoyed the cherry pie. Joshua departed soon after, hoping Freida would shortly retire for the night but not daring to suggest it. As he retrieved his hat, she asked, “So what about Clara?”

  Joshua turned back toward her, hat in his hand. “I am not sure I understand. She is well, and a great help in my practice, which so far is managing to sustain both of us.”

  Freida scoffed. “You don’t understand, you’re telling me? An old lady like me is about to be engaged, when will you climb down off the fence and ask her?”

  Joshua frowned. “Even if, as you suppose, I had formed a tender attachment to Miss Brook, I am now in the position of her employer. I would not for the world wish her to believe that I induced her to enter that position out of undisclosed and self-interested motives.”

  Freida sniffed. “That’s what you don’t wish. What is it you do wish?”

  Joshua could feel the hated blush rise in his cheeks. “I trust I may answer you in the strictest confidence.”

  “What, I’m going to go calling out in the street, the doctor is in love? Or go running to Clara, who likes me so much, I don’t think, and whisper in her ear?”

  Joshua refrained from pointing out that the lack of friendly relations between Clara and Freida had been due primarily to the latter. “I will trust to your discretion, then, and admit that I do hold a growing fondness for Miss Brook, and greatly desire to win her esteem and affection.”

  Belatedly he looked at Freida’s standing clock. “But it is late, and you require rest.” At her indignant expression, he hastened to add, “As do I, I must confess. Thank you for your indulgence in listening to me.”

  “My pleasure, what else should an old woman do but listen to the young? Let me pack up some pie, you could get hungry in the night.”

  Next morning, after a night without bad dreams and yet too wakeful, Joshua took advantage of the spring sunshine to go for a walk with Major. He had rather neglected the dog of late.

  As Major sniffed and ran about, Joshua heard a high voice hailing him. “Mister Doctor! Mama sent me to the store for some thread!”

  There came Hope, clutching a basket and looking very proud of having an errand of her own. Joshua smiled at her. “Do you know where to go for it?”

  Hope nodded vigorously. “The dry goods store. Mama and I have been there lots of times. But Mama’s talking to Mrs. Blum about her wedding dress, and Mrs. Blum needs more blue thread, and Mama sent me to get it.” Just then, Major barked at a suddenly appearing squirrel. Hope’s eyes went wide. “Is that your dog?”

  “Indeed it is. Major, here!” The dog, already in pursuit of the squirrel, hesitated. “Here, I say!”

  Major abandoned the squirrel and trotted right over to Hope, tail waving. She laughed in delight as he sniffed her skirts. “He’s so pretty!”

  Joshua allowed himself to grin. “I guess he is at that. He’s an Irish Setter, you know.”

  “He came all the way from Ireland?”

  “No, no. He was born right here in Cowbird Creek. That’s just his breed, the kind of dog he is. You may pet him, if you like.”

  Hope bent carefully down, still holding the basket tight in her left hand and caressing Major with her right. Major licked her hand; she jumped and then laughed again. “What’s he doing?”

  “He’s kissing you. That’s how dogs kiss people.”

  “Should I kiss him back?”

  Joshua stroked Major’s back. “I don’t think your mama would approve. Major doesn’t take much trouble to stay clean. But you can pet him again. He likes it.”

  As Hope followed his suggestion, Joshua heard a familiar clear voice behind him. “I’m glad to see Major is taking you for a walk on this fine morning.”

  Joshua turned toward Clara smiling and tipped his hat, belatedly wondering if he should have done the same for Hope. “I must give him a bone to thank him. We have been having a very pleasant time.”

  Clara studied Hope and Major with her measuring gaze. “Hope seems to be fond of dogs.” She looked back at Joshua and said quietly, “And you seem to be fond of Hope.”

  He said equally quietly, “I am. She is an affectionate child, and bright as well. I believe I am fond of children in general, though I have known few of them as well as I have come to know Hope.”

  Clara searched his face. “I hope the manner in which you came to know the child, and the way events have fallen since, does not give you pain.”

  He shook his head. “No, indeed. I am content with the — resolution of that relationship. And glad that Mrs. Arden has found someone with whom to share her life, after her loss and her time alone.”

  Meanwhile, Hope reluctantly stopped petting Major. “I must go. Mama and Mrs. Blum need the thread. Thank you for letting me pet Major.”

  Joshua bowed to her. “Major and I both thank you for your attention to him.” He watched her run off, making sure she was going in the right direction, and then returned his attention to Clara.

  Clara’s eyes also followed Hope. Was she avoiding looking at him? “You might, in time, have children of your own. If you should, like Mrs. Arden, find someone to share your life. A young woman, perhaps, who could provide you with a family.”

  Joshua examined his boots. “It has been my professional observation that women may be blessed with children even when no longer in what most would consider the first bloom of youth.”

  Now he thought he could feel Clara’s eyes on his averted face. She said soberly, “There are also many youngsters orphaned by various misfortunes. We could provide an orphan with a home, to the orphan’s and our own
great benefit.”

  He started to nod agreement and then did a double-take, finally looking straight at her. “Miss Brook, what did you just say?”

  Her face had a mischief in it. “I said that you need not despair of a family, even if we were unable to produce one in the usual way.”

  He seized her hands. “I would despair of nothing, if I had your support and comfort.”

  He would not shame her by kissing her in the street. Nor in their shared office, where anyone might enter, and where she even more than he needed to maintain a professional appearance. The boardinghouse? He dimly recalled a sitting room, with a door that could be closed . . . . “May I call on you this evening at Miss Wheeler’s establishment?”

  He had never seen this smile before, neither sardonic nor mischievous nor bitter, a smile of simple joy. “I shall be greatly looking forward to it.”

  Chapter 29

  Full of his news, Joshua charged up Freida’s front walk, barely restraining himself from pounding on her door. She answered his knock holding a piece of paper in her hand. “Come in, come in! You should excuse me, I’m just rereading this note Jedidiah left me. So romantic, that man, he wants I should read it every day while he’s gone, so he’ll know I’m thinking of him, as if I wouldn’t be. . . .” She finished reading and folded the paper back up, tucking it into her apron pocket and patting it gently. When she finally looked at him with some attention, her eyebrows shot up, and she clasped her hands. “You asked?”

  He was not sure he had ever beamed so broadly. “Clara has agreed to become my wife.” The words lingered strangely on his tongue. He had never said them before, and could hardly believe he was saying them now. He thought it best not to mention that Clara had in point of fact more or less asked him, instead of the reverse.