To Sail Beyond The Sunset

A quarter of a mile down the road he said, ‘Please pull over on to the grass,' so I did, and said to Daisy, ‘Whoa, girl,' and waited.

‘Thank you, Maureen. Will you help me wash, please?'

‘Certainly, sir.' This buggy, used for his country calls and specially built by the carriage-wrights who built his racing sulkies, had a larger baggage space in the back, with a rain cover. In it was carried a number of items that Father might need on a call but which did not belong in his black bag. One was a coal-oil can with a spout, filled with water, and a tin basin, and soap and towelling.

This time he wanted me to pour water over his hands. Then he soaped them; I rinsed them by pouring. He shook them dry; then washed them all over again in the basin and dried them after shaking, on clean towelling.

He sighed. ‘That's better. I did not sit down in there, I did not touch anything I could avoid touching. Maureen, remember that bathtub we used in Chicago?'

‘I certainly do!' The World's Fair had been an endless wonder and I'll never forget my first view of the Lake and my first ride on a railroad train up high in the air... but I dreamed about that tub, all white enamel, and hot water up to my chin. I could be seduced for a hot bath. They say every woman has her price. That's mine.

‘Mrs Malloy charged us two bits for each bath. This minute I would happily pay her two dollars. Maureen, I need glycerine and rose water. In my bag. Please.'

Father compounded this lotion himself and it was intended primarily for chapped hands. Right now he needed it to soothe his hands against the strong lye soap he had just used.

Once back on the road he said, ‘Maureen, that baby was dead long before Jackson Igo sent for me. Since last night, I estimate.'

I tried to feel sorry about that baby. But growing up in that household was no fate to wish on anyone. ‘Then why did he send for you?'

‘To bless the death. To get me to write a death certificate, to keep him from trouble with the law when he buries it... which he is probably doing this very minute. Primarily to cause me - and you - to make a six-mile round trip to save himself the trouble of harnessing his mule and coming into town.' Father laughed without mirth. ‘He kept pointing out that I couldn't charge him for a call since I didn't get there before the baby died. I finally said, "Shut up, Jackson. You haven't paid me a cent since Cleveland beat Harrison." He said something about hard times and how this administration never does anything for the farmer.'

Father sighed. I didn't argue with him; he had a point.

Maureen, you've been keeping my books this past year, would you say these were hard times?'

That brought me up sharp. I had been thinking about the Howard Foundation and Chuck's pretty penis. ‘I don't know, Father. But I know that you have far more on the books than you ever get paid. He noticed something else, too: the worst of the deadbeats would rather owe you a dollar for a house call than fifty cents for an office visit. Like Jackson Igo.'

‘Yes. He could have fetched that little cadaver in - never saw a child so dehydrated! - but I'm relieved that he did not; I don't want him in my clean clinic... or Adele's clean house. You've seen the books; do you estimate that collections are enough to support our family? Food, clothing, shelter, oats and hay, and a nickel for Sunday School?'

I thought about it. I knew my multiplication tables through twenty times twenty, same as everybody, and in high school I had been learning the delights of more advanced ciphering. But I had never applied any of it to our household affairs. Now I drew a blackboard in my mind and did some hard calculating.

‘Father... if they all paid you what they owe you, we would be quite comfortable. But they don't pay you, not enough of them.' I thought. ‘Nevertheless we are comfortable.'

‘Maureen, if you don't want the Howard option, better marry a rich man. Not a country doctor.'

Presently he shrugged and smiled. ‘Don't worry about it. We'll keep food on the table even if I have to slide over into Kansas and rustle cattle. Shall we sing? "Pop Goes the Weasel" would be appropriate today. How is your weasel by now, dear? Sore?'

‘Father, you are a dirty old man and you will come to a bad end.'

‘I've always hoped so, but I've been too busy raising Kinder to raise Cain. Meant to tell you: someone else is interested in your welfare. Old lady Altschuler.'

‘So I know.' I told him about her remark. ‘She thinks I'm Audrey.'

‘That unspeakable old cow. But she may not really think you are Audrey. She asked me what you were doing na the grandstand at the fairgrounds.'

‘Well! What did you tell her?'

‘I told her nit. Silence is all a snoopy question deserves... just fail to hear it. But the insult direct is still better. Which I handed that snapping turtle by ignoring her question and telling her next time to bathe before she comes to see me, as I found her personal hygiene to be less than adequate. She was not pleased.' He smiled. ‘She may be so angry that she will switch to Dr Chadwick. One may hope.'

‘One may. So somebody saw us go up. Well, sir, they did not actually see us doing it' I told Father about the box heavy with weights. ‘Spectators would have to have been in a balloon.'

‘I would say so. Safe enough if not very comfortable. I wish I could extend to you the courtesy of the sofa... but I can't, until you take up the Howard option. If you do. In the meantime let's think about it. Safe places.'

‘Yes, sir. Thank you. What I can't figure out is this: we trimmed the trip to Butler short, in order to conceal the time used up in unscheduled activity. I've been figuring times and differences in my head. Cher papa, unless my arithmetic is wrong -‘

‘It never is.'

‘Whoever spotted us climbing up into my hideaway must then have proceeded at a fast trot to the Altschuler place, reported my sins, then the Ugly Duchess must have been already dressed, with her buggy hitched and ready, to hurry over to sec you. When did she show up?'

‘Let me see. When she arrived, three patients were waiting. I made her wait her turn... so she carne in already angry. I sent her out boiling mad. Hmm... she must have arrived at least an hour before you showed up and bumped into her coming out.'

‘Father, it won't work. Physically impossible. Unless she herself was at the fairgrounds, then drove straight to our house on the pretence of needing to see you.'

‘That's possible. Quite unlikely. But, Maureen, you Nave just encountered a phenomenon that you will see again and again all your life after this red-letter day: the only thing known to science faster than the speed of light is Mrs Grundy's gossip.'

‘I guess so.'

‘I know so. When yon next encounter it, how will you handle it? Do you have that in your commandments?'

‘Uh, no.'

‘Think about it. How will you defend yourself?'

I thought about it for the next half-mile. ‘I won't'

‘Won't what?'

‘I won't defend myself against gossip; I will ignore it. At most I will look her - or him - in the eye and state loudly, "You are a filthy-minded liar." But it's usually best to ignore it entirely. I think.'

‘I think so, too. People of that sort want to be noticed. The cruellest thing you can do to them is to behave as if they did not exist.'

During the remaining half of 1897 I ignored Mrs Grundy while trying to avoid being noticed by her. My public persona was straight out of Louisa M. Alcott while in private I tried to learn more about this amazing new art I don't mean to imply that I spent much time on my back, sweating away for the mutual pleasure of Maureen and His Name Is Legion. Not in Lyle County, not in 1897. Too hard to find a place to do it!