They Called Her Mrs. Doc. (30 page)

“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.

He took her arm solicitously and she allowed him to help her hurry down the newly poured concrete sidewalk.

When they reached the office there was a good deal of commotion. Cassandra was prepared to push her way through but as she neared the throng, folks fell back, allowing her passage.

“What is it?” she asked Morris when she spotted him near the door to the inner office. “An emergency?”

Morris nodded and took her arm. They had grown old together, the two couples. He knew her about as well as anyone in the town—except for his Virginia.

When he opened the door, Cassandra was surprised to see Virginia standing there, her eyes already red from weeping—her twisted hand extended out to her. It all seemed so strange. She couldn’t understand.

Out of the corner of her eye she saw a form lying on the cot in the corner, but Samuel was not there bending over the patient as Cassandra expected him to be.

“Where’s Samuel?” she heard herself asking and then Virginia stepped back, her hand on Cassandra’s arm, and indicated the corner cot.

Samuel was lying there, his face washed of color. His hands were folded on his chest.

“What happened?” Cassandra managed to gasp, but she still didn’t understand.

She pulled away from Virginia so that she might go to him. He needed her. He looked so pale. He must be ill.

But Morris held her arm firmly. “He’s gone, Cassandra,” he said quietly but firmly. “He’s gone. It was his heart.”

What was he saying? Her head whirled in confusion.

Again Morris spoke the words, “He’s gone.”

It hit her then but she still refused to believe him. She fought against the truth with all her being. “He can’t be,” she insisted. “He just left home an hour ago. He was fine. It can’t be.”

Morris let her go then, though both he and Virginia stayed by her side. She crossed to Samuel and knelt by his lifeless body. At first she could not weep. She could not even feel. She thought that time must have stopped. That she was suspended in empty space, whirling in dizzying confusion—or having some horrid dream. There seemed to be no reality anymore.

She reached out a hand and brushed back the lock of silver hair. Yes. Yes. It was Samuel. Her Samuel. She had lost him. He was gone and she was left alone. And she hadn’t even had a chance to say goodbye.

She wept then. She laid her head against his silent heart and wept until she had no more tears.

All the children except Peter came home for the funeral. Most of the grandchildren were able to come as well. They made quite a group as they clung together, smiling as they greeted one another through their tears. Cassandra let her eyes pass from one to another, and in spite of her heavy heart, she felt joy.

He was so proud of them all,
she remembered and was glad that none of them had ever let him down.

They had to hold the funeral service out-of-doors. People came from miles away. The people he had tended, had sat up with through long nights of illness, had mended and stitched and coaxed to life or back to life. Cassandra had never seen such a crowd. Over and over again she heard the words: “I’m so sorry, Mrs. Doc. He was a good man.”

Yes, he was a good man—but she hated the past tense. For her he would always be a good man, one she carried with her in her heart wherever she went.

They took her home and made her tea and fussed over and pampered her. She was grateful. She needed their love and their supportive hugs, but she still felt empty—dead and empty. She wasn’t sure they understood just how much of herself she had lost.

“What are you planning to do now, Mama?” She had known the question would come. Had been dreading it. She hoped with all her heart that they didn’t push for some kind of change before she had a chance to sort things out—get back some kind of reality—make some sort of sense out of her world. She acted innocent.

“What do you mean?” she said.

“You can’t stay here,” said Christina.

“I’ve been here all my life,” she replied.

“But—not on your own. We can’t just leave you here on your own.”

“Why don’t you come home to Montreal?” asked Vivian.

Cassandra knew they meant well. Knew they loved her. But she also knew she had no intention of going to Montreal. She’d never be able to stand it.

She shook her head.

“I—I don’t think I’d fit in there anymore.” That was all she was able to say.

“But you’d learn to fit in again. I did,” insisted Vivian.

But you were a child, Cassandra wished to say. You were looking for adventure—love. And you found it. What am I to look for? I want neither. I want—I just want my friends—my memories—a chance to feel alive again
.

But Cassandra did not voice any of her thoughts. She was sure her family would not understand.

“I’ll move back,” said Joseph at her side. He had moved his family from the small town seven years before and was now building houses in the city. “A small town can grow only so far,” he had explained at the time of the move. “We are about as big as we can get. I need to move elsewhere if I am to find steady work.”

Cassandra and Samuel had not argued. They knew that Joseph was right, but at the time it had been a bit hard for them to let their last family members move away from them. But they had managed. Had soon made the adjustment. Samuel had even teased about it. “Now we have no one looking over our shoulder, Red,” he had said. “We can finally be our own boss.”

But they had missed Joseph and Ann, just as they had missed Sallie Jo and Adam when they had grown up and left the small town.

Now Joseph, who was considering his own retirement, was gently and unselfishly offering to move back so that his mother would not be alone.

She managed to pat his hand and give him a smile, but she shook her head. “No. No,” she said firmly. “It isn’t at all necessary. I wouldn’t want you to do that.”

“But you need someone—,” began Christina again.

“My lands!” she exclaimed, a bit of her old fire returning. “I have a whole town full of folk.”

“But—”

“Mother’s right,” cut in Thomas. “She needs some time to sort things out. If she’s happiest here, then I think she should stay. At least until …” He didn’t finish his statement. He didn’t say “until she can no longer care for herself,” but the words seemed to hang all around them.

At least he had bought her some time. She was grateful for that and she reached out to squeeze his hand.

They finally left her alone. She watched them go. One carload after another, and when the final ones were gone she sat down at the kitchen table and had a good cry.

She felt drained. Completely empty. She didn’t even hurt—she felt so dead inside. She wondered if she would ever feel alive again. She could not have counted the number of funerals she had attended over the years. A number of them had been patients that skill and medicine had failed to save. But never had she realized what it was to be left the living dead. Did others feel as she did? Had her mama, when her papa had passed away? She hadn’t known. Hadn’t even guessed. Had been totally unable to offer the right kind of understanding.

Cassandra pulled herself up from her chair and went to undress. The bedroom seemed still—cold—lifeless. She supposed she would have to get used to the emptiness. But it was not going to be easy.