Vivid (31 page)

Nate said grace and everyone began eating.
Gail asked Magic about Cleopatra and the girl informed all that the much
slimmer black feline had been seen in the barn, but the kittens were nowhere to
be found. After vowing to continue the search following her evening chores,
Magic then regaled her cousin Eli with all the things she'd witnessed and done
on the trip to Detroit. Eli listened raptly and asked all the appropriate
questions. Vivid watched the interplay with a smile. It was obvious that Eli
loved Magic as much as everyone else. She was glad to see that the feuding
cousins had not made the child choose sides.

After she and Magic helped Abigail clean
up the kitchen, Vivid prepared to say her goodbyes for the evening. Magic
protested Vivid s early leaving. "It isn't dark yet. Dr. Lancaster. I was
hoping we could play checkers tonight."

Vivid smiled at the disappointment on
Magic's brown face and ran a soothing hand over the dark braided head. "I
need to get to sleep. There were a few messages in my box, so I have some
patients I need to check on tomorrow. How about we make an appointment for
later in the week? Agreed?"

Magic nodded.

Abigail spoke up, "Magic, there's
still a bit of light left. Why don't you run over to Jeremiah's and show him
your new marbles?"

Delight spread over Magic's features.
"Can I Pa?"

"Your chores done?"

She shook her head enthusiastically.

"Then go," her father said.
Magic ran to her room to retrieve the marbles, then shot out of the door faster
than lightning.

Vivid headed back to her place and sat on
her front porch looking through her new books until it became too dark to see
the print on the pages. With the night rolling in, the mosquitoes became more
voracious and bold. Slapping at one of the little winged beasties feeding
nonchalantly on her forearm, she smiled at its demise and went indoors, knowing
she'd only lose more blood if she tarried a moment longer.

At about the same time, Nate, having put
Magic to bed, stood at his bedroom window staring down at Lancaster's cabin.
She'd been in his thoughts most of the day, helping him relive last night's
intimate encounter in the gazebo. The taste of her dark beauty haunted him.
Each and every time he had met her eyes that day, he envisioned having her
bared and naked to his caresses. Not even Eli's unwanted presence at dinner had
dampened his desire. That she could be distracting enough to make him ignore
his cousin spoke of her power. He decided that he wanted her, plain and simple.

But to have her he'd have to marry her.
She was not a whore in a lumber camp, or one of the accommodating widows up in
Kalamazoo. Viveca was cultured, educated, and the town's only doctor. She was
also a virgin. Nate had never been a trifling man and he had no plans to begin
now. So his choices were either to actively pursue her in front of God and
everybody, or to ignore this ache he'd developed for her and get on with his
life. He'd considered his life fairly full until now. People in the Grove lived
simple lives; he had the love of his daughter, Aunt Gail, friends, and
neighbors, and on those occasions when he needed to let off steam, Eli was
always around to lend a hand, but lately he sensed life had not been as
complete as he'd believed. Viveca seemed to have relit a spark within him that
he'd willingly let go cold. The death of his father, the terrible memories of
Fort Pillow, and the dissolution of his marriage had changed him, he readily
acknowledged. He'd become less joyous, more serious. Now, over a decade later,
he still carried remnants of much pain deep down inside. Yet being with Viveca
seemed to be exposing those dark places to light. Even when the two of them
were at odds, he found the air around her electrifying, scintillating, vibrant.
She made him feel alive, eager to embrace life. The only other person capable
of imbuing him with such fullness of spirit had been Majestic.

So what did he want? Logical choice or
illogical choice? The logical choice would be to distance himself; she made it
quite clear where she stood on becoming involved with a man at this juncture of
her life, and the fate of her position here as doctor still remained
unresolved. The illogical choice would be to pursue her.

He chose the illogical.

He chose the light.

Inside the cabin, Vivid placed the book
she'd been reading on the shelf with the others in her small library. Her eyes
strayed to her old textbooks standing like soldiers on the shelf above. She
reached up and took them down.

The memories associated with the tomes
came flooding back as she sat and slowly began to look through them. Had it
really been four years since she'd started on the road to certification? It
seemed like only yesterday that she'd arrived in Philadelphia in 1872 as a
member of the twenty-third session of the Women's Medical College of
Pennsylvania. The opening coursework had spanned twenty-two weeks of intense
study. To fulfill one of the entry requirements, she had practiced for a year
under the watchful eyes of Dr. Duncan and Dr. Place in her hometown before
applying for admission. They'd made certain to include her when surgical
procedures were undertaken; another prerequisite. Duncan and Place had worked
her hard to get her ready, but the faculty in Philadelphia worked her even
harder. She'd taken instruction in microscopy under the esteemed Dr. J. Gibbons
Hunt; physiology and hygiene under the college dean, Dean Ann Preston. By the
time three years had passed, she'd been tutored in subjects pertaining to
principles and practices of medicine; surgery; anatomy and histology; and
obstetrics and diseases of women and children.

Upon graduation she was further required
to seek an internship with an established medical facility. Since her major
studies had been concentrated in the areas of children and women's health and
her thesis had been the "Treatment and Diagnosis of Children," she
and another Black woman in her class, Carrie Still, applied for internships at
Boston New England Hospital for Women and Children. The hospital board denied
them initially because of their race. When the board subsequently altered its
stance a few months later, she and Carrie were allowed to practice.

And now here she sat, in Michigan, looking
through the books that made it possible for her to be here. Where did she go
from here, though? In the past few weeks she had felt herself being pulled in
opposite directions. She loved being a doctor, loved knowing that because of
her training and care the children in the Grove would grow up to become healthy
adults. She envisioned growing old here, and by then she would probably even know
her way around, but where did Nate fit into her future? She never knew she
could be so moved by a man. His dark face and spectacled eyes were commanding
more and more of her time and thoughts. Last night in the gazebo his soft
touches and wanton loving had rendered her absolutely mindless. Every time he
looked at her she remembered how brazen he'd been, and how loudly she'd
screamed that second time around. How could she fulfill her career goals and
yet want nothing more out of life than to have him hold her and love her? The
two paths couldn't possibly be compatible, could they? She'd known many women
who'd viewed their careers as nothing more than a stepping stone to marriage
with a successful man. They'd traded their stethoscopes for wedding rings, baby
cribs, and all that being a wife and mother entailed. Few, if any, felt the
need to pursue their former goals.

So what did she want? Ideally, she wanted
both Nate's love and her doctoring, but she also knew the time would come when
she'd have to make a choice.

She decided it might be best to seek some
advice, so she sat at the desk and began writing a letter to her sister Jess.

Vivid loved both her sisters equally but
Jess had a tendency to be more frank with her advice. When Vivid needed wisdom
or guidance, she wrote to Alicea, but if a man was involved she knew to pen
Jess. She looked up from her missive and thought about the passion Nate had
brought to her life. The way he kissed, the way his hands brought her nipples
to pleading points, came back to her mind with such sensual clarity she could
feel her lips tingling. She bent back over her letter and wrote,

Jess, is there a difference between lust
and love? If so, please explain. Also, is it proper for a proper woman to
experience lust?

She went on to tell her sister what she
knew about Nate's past and the feelings she had for him. She filled the last
two pages with information about her position as town doctor and a few current
events. She began with the scandals plaguing the lame-duck administration of President
Grant, then turned to news a bit closer to her heart.

The Democratic governments in the
Redemption South have all but gotten rid of their black office holders and
continue to laugh at the Fourteenth and Fifteenth Amendments. Washington seems
to be laughing with them. Their "let alone policy" has resulted in
mass killings and disenfranchisement. The Kluxers and White Leagues feel so
free from reprisal, they are now conducting their killings unmasked and in
broad daylight. The Chicago Tribune has written, "The long controversy
over the black man seems to have reached a finality." The Nation is
declaring that The Negro will disappear from the field of national politics.
Henceforth, the nation, as a nation, will have nothing more to do with him.
Times are harsh everywhere for our race. With all the evil loose in the South,
there is talk of a mass migration to Kansas in some of the Black newspapers and
broadsides. I will keep you informed of any further discussion on this subject.

Vivid then sent her love to her
brother-in-law and hoped he was finding his missionary work fulfilling. She
closed by writing,

Much love to you, my dear sister. May the
fates bring us together soon.

Vivid signed the letter "La Brat
Trabrasera."

She stood up from the chair and stretched.
It was late.

She went into her small bedroom and
prepared for bed. After donning one of the light, cotton nightgowns she'd
purchased in Detroit, she sat on the bed and brushed her thick ebony hair into
one long plait. Barefoot, she padded back out to the front to secure the bolt
on the door and stopped, stunned, upon seeing Nate Grayson sitting grim-faced
at her desk.

"Where'd you come from?" she
asked. Surely she hadn't been so engrossed in thought that she hadn't heard him
at the door? His sudden appearance reminded her of the day Majestic had
mysteriously disappeared. One minute Magic had been in the room and the next
moment she was gone. In this case her father seemed to have appeared right out
of thin air. "Is something the matter?"

"We need to talk," he stated.

She sat in one of the overstuffed chairs
and waited. She'd no idea what he'd come to say, but by his face it appeared to
be fairly serious. He held her gaze. "We've never discussed this
attraction that's developed."

Vivid looked away, then quietly replied,
"No, we haven't."

He told her softly, "I believe it's
time we did."

She nodded.

"It's a foregone conclusion I'm
courting you."

His statement surprised her a bit because
she'd never considered their encounters in such formal terms. She'd accepted
his kisses, yes, and in places that still astounded her, but Nate Grayson
courting her? "Is that what this is, courtship?"

"Do you have a better name, or
explanation?" he asked.

"I don't know. The...encounters...everything
seemed so...spontaneous. I never saw them as being part of a formal courting. I...they've
just been...occurring."

He chuckled at how flustered she became
trying to explain their relationship. “Have you ever done this 'occurring' with
other men?''

"Of course not," she hissed, slightly
outraged.

He smiled. "I knew that, put away
your scalpel. I asked because you're not a whore down at Maddie's, Viveca. If
this is going to continue, you're going to have to think over some
things."

"Such as?"

"Frankly, are you prepared to take on
a husband?"

"A husband? When will I need a
husband?"

"Probably the very next time you and
I are on that swing together."

She went still.

"Or," he continued, looking over
at her with a simmering heat in his eyes, "the next time we're alone in
the barn—or in the buggy. Take your pick of a thousand places,
Viveca."

The burning intensity of his gaze made her
feel as if she'd suddenly caught fire. She drew in a calming breath.

"This is a small community," he
went on. "Sooner or later something will be seen, or heard, and then the
gossip will begin, and it will undoubtedly be my fault because I can't seem to
keep my hands off you..."

His tone was so hushed and heated, Vivid
shuddered in response.

"I don't want to ruin you or your
reputation."

Vivid didn't know what to think or say. He
was right; if they continued on this course, sooner or later the fiddler would
have to be paid. She'd have not a shred of reputation left if either of the
scenarios he described came to pass. "So do you have a suggestion?"