A Boy of Good Breeding (17 page)

“Hello, Hosea, making your rounds?”

“Oh, oh, hello, Dr. Bonsoir.” Hosea tugged viciously at his windbreaker and then stopped abruptly and stroked the brim of his hat. “How are you?” he said.

“Fine. Just fine. Call me Dr. Trèsbien, Hosea. How are you? How’s the chest pain?”

“Oh, it’s gone. It was nothing. Something I ate.”

“Hmmm. So, Hosea, mind if I ask you a question?”

“Go ahead, shoot. What’s on your mind?” Hosea coughed.

“What were you doing at the Cherniski residence the day she had her heart attack?”

“Me? Well, I was helping to rescue her dog.”

“Yes, but how did you know her dog was in trouble? How is it that you just showed up at that exact moment when her dog needed rescuing?”

“Well, I don’t know. Chance, I suppose. Coincidence? I was on my way to Johnny Dranger’s.”

“I see. Is he a friend of yours?”

“In a way. Yes.”

“Hmmm …” said Dr. François.

“How is she?” said Hosea.

“Hard to say at this point.”

Hosea told himself not to ask another single question. Why was the doctor acting this way? He stared hard at his shoes and
tried to stop himself from opening his mouth. He put his hands in his pockets and felt the hard edge of his hips. He looked up and saw the doctor glance at his watch and then at something behind the desk.

“Do you think she’ll make it?” he blurted out and cursed himself inside. The doctor stared at Hosea. He opened his mouth and closed it. He smiled.

“What would you say if I told you I was thinking of leaving Algren?” said the doctor. He began to pace back and forth, his hands behind his back.

“Leaving Algren,” said Hosea. “But why?”

“For a better paying job in the States.”

“The States! Why would you want to go to the States?”

“More money, like I said. And other reasons. Genvieve won’t leave Montreal to live in a place like this.”

“But what about us? We need you!”

“Well, don’t worry, Hosea. I won’t leave until you have another doctor. You organize a hiring committee, put an ad in papers across the country, and see how it goes. I’m sorry, Hosea, I need to live in a bigger place. I need to move on.”

“It’s because of the Epps, isn’t it?”

“What about them?”

“Talking about suing you over the baby with the breathing problem.”

“No, no, Hosea. That was unavoidable. Any doctor has to be prepared for potential lawsuits and disgruntled patients. That’s not the problem. I’m a young man! I need a change! I want to practise in a large hospital and experience as much as I can. That’s all.”

Dr. François looked at Hosea. Hosea didn’t know what to say. He needed to get rid of a few more people, but if the doctor left he’d have to replace him. He couldn’t expect the Charlie Orson Memorial Hospital to function without a doctor. At least
not for any length of time. Could he get away with not hiring a doctor just for, say, a month or two? Until after July first? The doctor put his hand on Hosea’s shoulder. “Don’t worry so much, Hosea. You’ll kill yourself with worry.”

“I hope you change your mind,” said Hosea quietly.

“Well,” said the doctor, “we’ll see.” He paused. “Hosea,” he said, “I’ll keep you posted on Mrs. Cherniski’s condition.” The doctor removed his hand from Hosea’s shoulder and cocked his head. “Okay?” he said. Before Hosea could respond, three men came bursting through the front doors of the hospital. Two of them were helping Johnny Dranger walk and yelling at the doctor.

“He’s not breathing hardly at all, Doc!” said one. “You gotta do something quick!”

The doctor was calm. He helped the men lay Johnny down on a stretcher in the hallway. By now Nurse Barnes had showed up and was already administering oxygen to Johnny.

“What happened to his inhaler?” the doctor asked the men. They all shrugged.

“We don’t know,” said one of them.

“Was he putting out fires again?” asked the doctor.

“Looks like,” said one of the men. “He told us he’d just come from Whithers, some house fire he was helping on, his face was all full of ash and grit. He ordered a coffee, over at the Wagon Wheel, then started in on his coughing fit. Knocked his cup right off the table, and the gal over there, filling in for Cherniski, started yelling at him to get a grip. He started turning blue and he tried to talk but nothing came out, so the boys here and I stuck him in the back of the truck and brought him here. He’s looking better, I can see.”

Hosea stood beside Johnny, looking down at him and smiling. Johnny still couldn’t talk but his colour was coming back and his breathing had settled down. “I’m putting you back in, John,” whispered Hosea. Johnny blinked up at Hosea.

“Excuse me, Hosea,” said the doctor. “I’ll have to ask you to stand back a bit. He’ll be fine in a while. He’ll be out of here in an hour or two. Until the next time.” The doctor was muttering, “An asthmatic firefighter, I don’t understand …”

Hosea turned and walked towards the door. “Hey, Hosea,” said one of the men. “Isn’t that Leander Hamm’s hat you got on? He gave it to you?” Hosea froze on the spot but the man went on. “Looks pretty good on you, Hosea, looks sharp. Doesn’t it, Mel?” he said to the other man.

“Sure does,” said Mel. “That’s a bronc-bustin’ hat you got there, Hosea, you know that? You could be a cowboy if you got yourself a horse.”

Hosea smiled and said, “Well, maybe some day.” But the men weren’t listening. They were already making plans to get back to the Wagon Wheel and finish off their coffees, maybe find out more about the new gal taking over for Cherniski.

Hosea got into his car and backed out of his spot. He drove slowly down Main Street, nodding at the few people strolling along the sidewalk. Suddenly a dog stepped off the curb and sauntered across the street. Hosea slammed on his brakes and swore out loud. That damn Knute! She was supposed to get rid of that dog! Immediately Hosea felt bad about his outburst. He rolled down his window. “Uh, Bill Quinn?” he said. “Get off the road! Shoo! C’mon now, get going!” Bill Quinn turned his head to look at Hosea and then stopped in his tracks in the middle of the road. “C’mon now,” said Hosea. “I said shoo.”

Bill Quinn walked over to one of Hosea’s tires and lifted his leg. “Hey!” shouted Hosea. “Cut that out!” He threw his car into reverse and slammed his foot down on the gas pedal. Bill Quinn looked behind him at the spot where the tire had just been, put his leg down and continued to cross the street. He found a square of sunlight and lay down in it. With his legs
stretched out in front of him and behind him he took up the entire width of the sidewalk.

Hosea watched as a woman and her child gingerly stepped over the dog. The child bent down and scratched Bill Quinn between the ears. Bill Quinn licked the boy’s face and the woman smiled. Hosea shook his head.

Well, thought Hosea, I’m really no further ahead than when I started. I’ve got three new babies and Max on my hands and nobody gone except Leander. I’m no further ahead. Hosea remembered raking leaves for Euphemia. As soon as he’d finished a patch of the lawn, the wind would blow and more leaves would fall from the trees directly onto his freshly raked patch. “C’mon in, Hosea,” Euphemia would yell from the doorway, “don’t worry about every single leaf.” But he had worried about every single leaf. He’d stay outside until ten or eleven at night trying to rake up every leaf, trying to beat the wind. Sometimes Tom would help out for a while but eventually he’d get bored and wander off. “I’m going to bed, Hose,” Euphemia would eventually call out into the darkness, “wherever you are, good night.”

Hosea parked his car on the street in front of his office and got out. He said, “Hello, Peej,” to a small stooped man who stood on the sidewalk gazing up at the sky. “Have you got seeding weather, Peej, or not?” Hosea smiled. “Let’s hope,” said Peej.

“Well, take ’er easy, Peej.” A vicious jerk of Peej’s chin by way of saying good-bye and Hosea had safely entered his office building.

He peered out the window of his office. He watched a couple getting out of their grey Subaru and going in to the Wagon Wheel. The woman glanced at Bill Quinn lying on the sidewalk and smiled. He thumped his fingers against the windowsill to a familiar tune. Waterloo, he thumped, my Waterloo. The couple took a table next to the large window in the front of the café.
Hosea watched as the man removed the woman’s coat and then disappeared into the café, looking for a place to hang it. You’ll have to hang it over the back of a chair, it’s the Wagon Wheel you’re sitting in, not the Ritz, thought Hosea. He stared at the woman and wondered if she was married to the man or was she his sister, his daughter? He thought of Lorna. The woman sat at the table, her legs crossed and sticking out to the side, and picked up a menu. She looked up at Hosea. Hosea looked up at the sky, to the right and to the left as if he’d just heard an airplane, and then quickly moved away from his window. He noticed a note lying on his desk and picked it up.

I’m sure she did, thought Hosea. “When?” said Hosea out loud. When, Knute? When did Lorna call, what did she say, how did she sound? Was she at work, at home? Why hadn’t Knute just let the answering machine go? It would have been more helpful. At least he could have heard her voice. Hosea stood up and walked over to the window. He watched the couple for a while. The woman didn’t look up at him again. A
warm wind touched him. Knute’s note fluttered off the desk and onto the floor. “You!” he shouted at Bill Quinn. The dog lifted one ear. “Get out of my town! Get the heck out of Algren!” Bill Quinn let his ear drop, yawned, and tried to get comfortable again. Combine Jo, who had been standing on the street with her back to Hosea, peering into the window of Willie Wiebe’s Western Wear, turned around and looked up at him.

“Who the hell are you yelling at, Hosea? It’s a little undignified, don’t you think?” She was grinning. “Have you lost your mind, Hosea? Why the hell don’t you come on out of your little tower and enjoy the sunshine. Summer’s just around the corner! Did I mention S.F. and me are gonna be riding our bikes over on the dike? Hey, Hosea, you gotta bike?”

Hosea shook his head. “I was, uh, talking to Bill Quinn, to the dog,” he said. “To that black dog there on the sidewalk.”

“Oh him,” shouted Combine Jo. “He looks harmless. Hey, wait a second, did you say his name is Bill Quinn? You mean from the original Bill Quinn? Is that one of his? Oh boy.” Combine Jo shook her head.

“What do you mean, ’oh boy?” shouted Hosea. “What’s the story with the Quinns?”

“Oh, they’re just wild, Hosea. They can’t be trained. They can’t be taught a thing. They do as they please. A few generations must have lived in Whithers or who knows where, ’cause you obviously missed out on it. Just ask Cherniski! She’ll tell you all about it!” Combine Jo shook her head. “Christ,” she said. She looked amused. “I guess they’re back. Yell all you want, Hosea, that dog ain’t gonna budge.” She turned back to the display window of Wiebe’s with a little wave over her shoulder. Hosea lifted his hand.

The phone rang.

“Lorna,” said Hosea as he picked up the phone.

“How’d you know it was me?” said Lorna, laughing.

“Well, you know, if you want something bad enough …” Hosea coughed. “How are you?” he said.

“I’m fine. How are you?” she said.

“I’m okay,” said Hosea, “I’ve …” Lorna interrupted.

“I’ve missed you, too,” she said.

Hosea had been about to say I’ve been better.

“Yeah,” he said. “How are you?” he asked again.

“I’m okay. Pretty good. Hosea, there’s something we need to talk about.”

“Yeah,” he said. He wondered what it could be. “Yeah,” he said again. “We should talk.”

“Could I come out on the bus tonight?”

“Oh,” said Hosea. “Of course you can, of course you can. I’ll be there to pick you up. I love you. I’m sorry I’m such an idiot. I’m sorry I didn’t call sooner. Lorna, I’m just really sorry.”

She sighed. “You keep telling me that, Hosea, and nothing ever changes.”

Hosea whispered, “I know. I’m sorry.”

“Will you quit saying you’re fucking sorry!” she said.

“Okay,” said Hosea. “Yes I will, I love you.”

“And stop saying that, too!” said Lorna.

“Why?” asked Hosea. “Why should I stop saying I love you when I do?”

“Because it makes me sad, Hosea, that’s why. Because I wonder.”

“Okay,” said Hosea.

“Is that all you can say? Okay? So what does that mean, Hosea, that your love for me
is
a sad thing, that you don’t even know if you mean it or not?”