Vivid

  Nate sighed with frustration. He could count on one hand the number of times he'd been driven anywhere by a female.

  Vivid looked down at him and said, "I assume driving is a man's job, too?" He didn't reply, but the answer was evident She shook her head. "Mr. Grayson, if I could concoct a cure for misguided male thinking, I would be a very wealthy woman indeed. Are you coming or not?''

  He smiled inwardly, went around to the passenger side, and climbed in.

  Vivid gently slapped the reins, and they were off.

  "So," she said, "I know now to take the left fork instead of the right. What else should I know?''

  He began to point out landmarks. Unlike the big cities where markers were usually shops or streets or buildings, here they were distinctively shaped trees, flowing streams, or the lay of the land.

  He asked her at one point, "Do you see that big willow over there?"

  Vivid eased the buggy to a halt, then looked where he pointed. The tree seemed to be miles away, across the rolling clearing, yet its hanging branches made it distinctly visible.

  "That's Adam Crowley's land. The fork you took back there leads to his place. He's about three miles from us. If you're ever out admiring the scenery again on that portion of the Grove, that willow should be your beacon."

  She ignored his sarcastic allusion, but filed the willow information into her memory.

  She started the buggy again and Nate admired the way she handled it. "Your driving is not bad."

  Vivid turned to him and asked, "Is that a compliment, Mr. Grayson?"

  "I believe it is."

  "Two pleasantries in one day. Will my constitution be able to handle such shock?''

  He had to glance away or fall prey to her sparkling eyes. "Just drive, Lancaster."

  Chapter 8

  In her dreams Vivid felt someone shaking her roughly. She didn't want to be roused but the jostling by the strong hand was insistent enough to make her grudgingly open her eyes and realize she wasn't dreaming at all. She was startled by a man looming over her in the darkness. He was bearded and as big as a bear with the rifle in his hand glistening in the moonlight bathing her room. She sat up slowly as she heard him ask, "Are you the lady doctor?"

  "Yes," Vivid answered nervously.

  "My pa says I'm to bring you—at gunpoint if necessary."

  "That won't be necessary," she told him, eyeing the long-nosed weapon. "If someone's been hurt, just let me get dressed and we can go."

  He eased his rifle down and Vivid cautiously slid off the bed and asked him to wait outside, hoping the man would be reasonable.

  He nodded, then added, "No tricks now. Hate to have to truss you up."

  "No tricks," Vivid assured him. "It would help to know who needs my help and why."

  "It's our Jewel, she's real sick. We can't wake her up." He stepped out of the bedroom and closed the door, leaving Vivid the privacy she needed to dress and gather her medical supplies.

  When they were ready to depart, her escort mounted a big gray stallion, then pulled her up behind. "Put your arms around my waist and hold on tight, Doctor. Don't want you falling off."

  Under the eerie illumination of the night's full moon, they galloped away. Vivid glanced toward the dark Grayson house as they raced past. It came to her that maybe she should have left a note about her whereabouts but it was too late, and besides, she had no idea of her destination.

  The giant's advice to hold on tight proved sound indeed. He took her on one of the wildest rides of her life. For the first few moments she tried to peer around his big frame to survey the terrain ahead, but the trees and branches were rushing by so perilously close, she pulled back and swallowed her fears. The horse beneath her seemed surefooted and strong, the man controlling the reins competent. She had no choice but to hang on and pray that they arrived without mishap.

  The mad flight through the night ended a few miles away from Vivid's cabin, and she sighed with relief when the giant helped her dismount. She followed him to a beautiful house even larger than the Graysons', with gables and cornices and trellises.

  However, the stench inside was arresting, gagging. Instinctively, Vivid brought a hand up to shield her nose.

  "No one's cleaned the place since Jewel took sick," her escort explained. "We've become accustomed to the smell, I guess."

  He led Vivid through a kitchen that hadn't been cleaned in quite some time. China, cutlery, and cooking pots were stacked almost to the ceiling on a large table in the room's center. A smaller stack occupied the top of the cooking stove. In one corner a churn had been knocked over and the contents left spread across the wooden floor. Vivid stepped cautiously over the putrid puddle and kept her eyes focused on his back to avoid seeing any more of the kitchen's wondrous sights.

  The hallway off the kitchen led into a parlor. There, amid the beautiful framed paintings of animals and birds gracing the walls, dirty laundry reigned. Articles of clothing, enough to stock an army regiment, lay in piles everywhere. Trousers, union suits, shirts, and socks hid what appeared to be fine furniture.

  "Jewel usually takes care of the washing, too," the man said as they crossed the parlor and headed up a flight of stairs, but Vivid was only half-listening. She couldn't decide which part of herself, the doctor or the woman, was more appalled at the house's state. The place was as filthy as a sty.

  Upstairs, conditions were no better. It was a wonder that every person in the household hadn't succumbed to some sort of sickness, Vivid thought, feeling the beginnings of anger take hold. Her escort was a big strong man; why in the world hadn't he bothered to clean the place instead of waiting for poor Jewel to get better?

  In the hallway they walked through she had to sidestep piles of sheets, pillowslips, coverlets, and blankets stacked against the walls in mounds as high as Vivid's waist. The farther she walked, the more determined she became to hold her tongue until after she'd seen the patient. After she took care of Jewel, she would blister this man's hide for living in such squalor.

  He opened a door at the end of the hall and Vivid followed him in. Five men were positioned protectively around a bed upon which a woman lay.

  The five were as big as the man at Vivid's side, and all were similar enough in appearance for her to assume they were related to one another. An older man stepped forward; he was even larger than the others because age had added to his girth. He critically assessed Vivid for a moment, then stated, "This is the new doctor? Why, she's no older than our Jewel."

  "I know, sir, but I got her here as soon as I could."

  "You did fine, son."

  The older man then turned his attention to Vivid. “Young woman, I am Adam Crowley, and these are my sons, Noah, Abraham, Ezekial, and Jeremiah, and you met Paul."

  The men, all of various ages, greeted her politely, and Vivid nodded in turn.

  Mr. Crowley continued, "As you've probably heard, I'm against you being here. The wilds of Michigan are no place for a cotillion girl."

  Vivid raised an eyebrow at that tart remark, but remained silent.

  “However, since you are the only physician available, you will have to do."

  Vivid wondered if he was always this brusque. She found Abigail's description of Mr. Crowley as having a wooden head to be very apt indeed. “How may I assist you, Mr. Crowley?"

  "It's my daughter, Jewel. Can you tell us what's ailing her?"

  The brothers parted like a fortress gate to let her near the bed. Jewel was a beautiful, cinnamon-skinned young woman but terribly, terribly thin. "How long has she been ill?" Vivid asked as she bent close to Jewel and gently opened the lids of the sleeping woman's eyes.

  "On and off for nearly a month now, but she wasn't laid low like this until yesterday," Jewel's father answered.

  Vivid was pleased to see that Jewel's eyes were clear. She ran her hands lightly over Jewel's jawbones in search of unnatural swelling. There was a bit, but not enough to signal any major inflammation. Her forehead felt warm beneath her practice
d hands but not unnaturally so. The woman coughed in her sleep, filling the otherwise silent room. "Mr. Crowley, I'd like to examine her if that's agreeable."

  "That would be fine."

  He did not bother to mask his concern for his daughter, nor did his sons. All of them appeared genuinely distressed, so much so that although Vivid waited patiently for them to leave, they all remained standing there. "Gentlemen, may we have some privacy?" Vivid asked gently.

  Quickly, they all began mumbling apologies and headed for the door, but Vivid could tell by the way they kept looking back at the bed that they were departing with great reluctance.

  Once alone with her patient, Vivid conducted a preliminary examination and surmised that the young woman had a slight inflammation of the lungs. However, the inflammation did not account for the gaunt face, dull skin, or overall thinness. According to the men, Jewel had not been ill long enough to have lost so much flesh. Vivid immediately ruled out lack of nutrition as the cause because the giant brothers looked healthy and well-fed. Curious, Vivid picked up the woman's lifeless hands and peered at them closely. Vivid found her answer. Satisfied, she covered Jewel and went out to join the men.

  Adam Crowley confronted her immediately. "What's your diagnosis, Dr. Lancaster? I tell you now, I will not have her bled."

  "Don't worry, Mr. Crowley I don't believe in bleeding my patients. Your daughter is not in serious danger."

  "That's good news," he said with a sigh of relief.

  "She has a slight inflammation of her lungs. A recoverable illness given the proper rest."

  "Is that why she won't wake up?" Noah asked.

  "No. That has to do with something else. I'll explain, but tell me, what does Jewel do on a typical day?"

  Vivid watched the brothers look at one another, then Paul spoke. "Well, she gets the eggs first thing, then cooks our breakfast and does the milking."

  "After breakfast," Ezekiel chimed in, "she starts the bread for the evening meal, then does the washing. About midday we all come in to eat. After that, if it's not too hot, she does the gardening."

  "She feeds the chickens and slops the hogs," added Noah.

  "Is this every day?" Vivid asked amazed.

  "Just about," said Jeremiah.

  Vivid looked around at the able-bodied men and then said, “All of you need a buggy whip taken to your backsides! What do all of you do all day long?"

  "Hunt, fish, trap, why?"

  "Because that girl is exhausted, that's why she won't wake up! I'll bet my certificate she keeps this house spotless, doesn't she?"

  "Why, sure. How'd you know?"

  "Because her hands and fingers are cracked and red raw from soap and lye." Vivid looked around at the giant men and then thought back on the woman lying silently in bed. "All of you should be ashamed!"

  "Now hold on a minute, young woman!" Mr. Crowley spoke sharply.

  One of the brothers interrupted his father to say, "Dr. Lancaster, we would help if she'd let us, but she doesn't like us in the house when she's working."

  "She says we take up all the air," another pointed out sadly.

  Vivid could understand why Jewel would feel that way. Having all of them in the room was a bit overpowering, but Vivid saw that as only as an excuse. She asked, “So have any of you ever offered to help with the chores?"

  "Sure, she lets us chop wood—and slaughter the hogs."

  "Sometimes," one brother noted sarcastically.

  "But mostly we stay out of her way. She says she can do in ten minutes what takes us an hour, so she does mostly everything herself. Dr. Lancaster, we love our sister very much. We'd help if she'd let us."

  The men seemed sincere, Vivid noted as she surveyed them. Vivid looked into Mr. Crowley's eyes and felt humbled. Now would be the best time to remove her foot from her mouth. "Mr. Crowley, I owe you and your sons an apology. I made a wrong assumption.

  "Yes, you did, young woman, but I'm going to forgive you because you took what you thought was Jewel's side. I like that."

  "Feisty little thing, ain't she, Pa?"

  "She sure is," Mr. Crowley said, smiling for the first time. "Which one of my sons you want to marry up with?"

  Vivid grinned in return. "I'm here for doctoring, Mr. Crowley, not marrying."

  "Pity. You remind me of my Margaret when she was young, all spirit and determination."

  "Then I'll take that as a compliment."

  "When will she wake up, Doctor?"

  "When her body's ready."

  Vivid spent the night at the Crowley home, and in the morning everyone pitched in to help clean the place.

  "Jewel's not going to like us doing this, Dr. Lancaster," one of the brothers said.

  "I'll handle Jewel, you get that laundry started." Vivid took over cleaning the kitchen. It required the better part of the morning for her to make the kitchen usable again, and once done, she went out to help with the laundry. She learned that, despite their giant frames, the Crowley sons were as fun-loving and playful as a batch of puppies. They spent as much time wrestling around and teasing one another as they did doing the chores. The work went smoothly. However, all of them, Mr. Crowley included, were too scared of Jewel's wrath to go anywhere near the garden, so Vivid spent the afternoon on her knees weeding and planting the spring vegetables. During the course of the day's activities, she looked up more than once to find Adam Crowley watching her from afar. He never said anything, so she didn't, either. Upstairs, Jewel slept.

  Briefly, she regretted missing church. She had been looking forward to acquainting herself with the congregation. Well, maybe next Sunday, she thought with a sigh.

  Vivid was washing her hands at the pump when Adam Crowley walked up and asked, "Young woman?"

  "Yes, Mr. Crowley."

  "I've been watching you all day, and you're not a cotillion girl, are you?"

  "No, Mr. Crowley, I'm not."

  "That's good. Cotillion girls don't fare well here." Then he added, "If you doctor half as good as you worked here today, you'll be a fine addition to the Grove."

  Vivid looked up at him and asked, "You're not saying that just because you want me to marry one of your sons, are you, Mr. Crowley?"

  He laughed heartily. “A sense of humor, too. I like that. No, I'm not, though it would be nice if you consider it; they eat like a regiment."

  "I am not here to marry," she said, laughing.

  "Pity," he said. "So tell me all about yourself."

  Vivid did. Over the course of the evening she found that Adam Crowley didn't actually have a wooden head at all. He was intelligent, well-read, and blunt about his opinions.

  "Frederick Douglass represents only Frederick Douglass," came Mr. Crowley's response to Vivid's inquiry about whom he would designate as the true spokesman of the race. "Oh, Fred's a great orator, probably one of the best the race has ever seen, but he always waits for someone else to test the water first. He was one of the last on the wagon for taking up arms to end slavery.

  Never much respected his opinion after that, and his private life is a mess."

  The five sons eventually drifted out to the porch. Vivid sat talking to the Crowley men until way past candlelight Finally, Adam Crowley asked, "Should I have one of the boys take you back?"

  Vivid shook her head no. "I believe tomorrow will be soon enough. I really would prefer Jewel be awake before I leave."

  “Fair enough. Well, you can bed down in her room again tonight. The boys and I will see you in the morning."

  Jewel awakened the next day. Vivid, who had come in to check on her, smiled when the young woman's dark eyes met hers.

  "Who are you?" Jewel asked in a weak voice.

  "I'm Dr. Lancaster, Jewel. How do you feel?"

  "Like I've been asleep for a hundred years."

  Vivid smiled and placed her hand on her patient's forehead. "It's been more like three days. Does anything hurt or ache?"

  "My chest hurts a bit, probably from all the coughing I was doing. And my hea
d feels like it's full of moss. Did my father and brothers bring you here?"

  "Yes, they were very concerned. What was the last thing you remember?"

  "Well, I'd been sick for about a week. I was too weak to do my chores, I remember that. Then—" She seemed to take a moment to think back. “Oh, yes, I remember not wanting to put the washing off any longer. It was starting to pile up. So even though Zekiel told me not to, I was carrying water in and I started to feel real queerlike—"

  She looked at Vivid, who nodded for her to continue.

  "Then I dropped the buckets and that's the last I know."

  "How old are you, Jewel?"

  "It'll be my nineteenth summer come July. Doctor, you don't look any older than me, and you're a doctor?"

  "Yes."

  "Why?"

  "Why am I a physician?"

  Jewel nodded.

  "I always wanted to be a doctor. What do you want to be, Jewel?"

  "Oh, I don't know. I can't really think about it until my brothers marry."

  Vivid, puzzled by that remark, asked, “Why not?''

  "I promised my mother."

  "I see," Vivid said, although she didn't really see at all. However, now was not the time to pursue the matter. Instead, she asked, "Do you want anything to eat or drink?"

  "Maybe a drink of water."

  Vivid poured some from the pitcher on the stand beside the bed, then handed her the cup. "Drink slowly now," Vivid cautioned.

  Jewel took a few swallows. "I think I want to sleep some more. Can you hold off my pa and brothers for just a tad longer?"

  "Certainly," Vivid replied, smiling. "At the moment they're out fishing for supper, so you can enjoy your solitude for as long as you require."

  "Thank you, Dr. Lancaster. And welcome to the Grove."

  "Thank you," Vivid replied genuinely. "Get some rest. I'll be back to check on you later."

  Jewel was once again asleep before Vivid left the room.

  The men returned later in the afternoon, their poles and baskets fat with fish. They greeted the news of Jewel's recovery with wide smiles and would have run pell-mell up the stairs to her room had Vivid not cautioned them to let her rest a bit longer. They all appeared disappointed as they cleaned the fish for the evening's meal.