Vivid

  "How did the other slaves feel about you?" "They hated my every step. Looking back, I don't see as how I blame them. I gave them no respect and no quarter. I was a mean-spirited and petty young woman in those days. The pens changed all that." "Your brother, was he a slave also?" "No, my two older brothers were freed when they reached eighteen years of age. Masters did that sometimes. They freed the sons but rarely the daughters. That practice alone should have made me pause and ponder my place in the world, but it did not." "So you wound up in the pens." "Yes, and the owners of the pen contracted me sight unseen to a French businessman for the fine price of three thousand dollars, in advance." "That's quite a price." "I was quite the woman."

  Vivid smiled and asked, "So what ever happened to your brother?"

  “He had to leave Virginia, of course. Slave stealing in parts of the South was a hanging offense. When the real representative from New Orleans showed up a few days later and I couldn't be found, my brother and his friend became wanted slave stealers. Broadsides featuring their likenesses were nailed up all over the county. Bruin and Hill were very prominent slavers, they had a reputation to maintain. You can't be in the business of selling slaves if you can't provide the buyer the goods." Edna paused a moment as if thinking back. When she next spoke, her voice was thick with emotion. "My mother, who'd had no part in the plot, other than to write my brother and tell him of my plight in the pens, was sold Deep South. My three sisters who were nine, eleven, and twelve at that time were immediately taken overland to the fancy girl markets in New Orleans; the youngest died on the trip there. Both of my remaining brothers were taken from their families and jailed. My freedom came at a heavy, heavy price."

  "What became of your brother's friend?"

  That question made Edna smile, and Vivid was glad to see she was no longer so sad. "That man went on to become the infamous Black Daniel, a thorn in the side of every slave owner and slave catcher from Georgia to the Ohio line."

  Vivid grinned in confusion, "The Black who?"

  "Daniel."

  "As in the biblical Daniel?"

  "Yes. You should hear the stories folks told about him. They said he stole hundreds, maybe thousands of slaves before Appomatox. The slave owners had a bounty on his head so large, slave catchers and their dogs were tripping over one another trying to bring him to ground."

  "I've never heard of him. Was he ever apprehended?"

  "He was far too clever to be caught. He wore disguises quite often. No one really knew what he looked like for many years until after the war."

  "And this was your brother's friend?"

  "Yes, and Viveca, he was so handsome, even more handsome than the Grayson men."

  "That's pretty handsome, Miss Edna," Vivid said, impressed. "Is he still alive?"

  "Very much so. He's older now of course, but he lives outside Detroit and is married to a friend of Abigail's named Hester Montgomery. Oh, stop, turn here," Edna said, pointing to a fork in the hard-packed road. "The Carpenter place is just ahead."

  The birth of the Carpenter baby spanned three days, but finally the stubborn baby girl consented to being born. After dropping off Miss Edna at her apartments above the store, Vivid returned home so tired that even the simple task of breathing seemed draining. She wearily drove Michigan around to the back of the cabin and unhitched her. In spite of the bone-deep fatigue, Vivid took the time to inspect the mule's hooves for stones and burrs and to fetch her water and oats.

  With the mule taken care of, Vivid stepped up onto her back porch. She had only one desire: to go to bed and fall asleep as soon as possible. She put her hand on the door, then stopped and stared at the sight of the swing someone had put up on the far right side of the porch. Fatigue forgotten, she left her medical bag at the door, then walked to the swing. Where on earth had it come from?

  It hung suspended from two sturdy lengths of chain and looked as if it had been a church pew in a previous life. It faced out over the countryside and had been bolted into position far enough under the lip of the roof to let occupants enjoy the view even in the rain.

  Vivid ran her hand over the smooth, polished dark wood, smiling at the gift as she slowly walked around to the front. She glanced down at the wide seat and halted, stunned. She raised her hand to her mouth, and tears stung her eyes as she stared down in wonder at the beautiful wildflowers. Her hands shook as she picked them up. "Do you like it?"

  She spun at the sound of Nate's low-toned voice behind her.

  "Did you do this?" she asked softly.

  As they stared across the porch at each other she read the answer in his eyes. She wondered what it might be like to come home every evening to find him waiting for her in just this way.

  He stood there, arms folded. "You want me to take it down?"

  She replied, "No, I don't want you to take it down. It needs to be christened. Come join me."

  He sat beside her on the wide seat. To Vivid, the lulling gentle motion felt like heaven, especially after the difficulties of the last three days.

  "How did you know I needed this?" she asked, turning her head to look his way.

  "Just thought you'd like to have a place to sit outside in the evenings."

  Vivid continued to hold his eyes. "And the flowers?" she asked.

  "Saw them and thought you'd like them."

  "First a mule, then a wagon, and now flowers and a swing. I may put you in charge of my happiness on a permanent basis if you're not careful, Nate Grayson," she whispered.

  "If all it takes is a mule and an old church pew, I may take the job."

  Vivid stared back at the softly spoken reply.

  Whether intentionally or not, he changed the subject by asking, "How'd the Carpenter birthing go?"

  "Poorly for the first two days, the baby was breech. Would you really take charge of my happiness?"

  He looked over at her and chuckled, "Your people should have called you Curious, not Vivid."

  "I'm a physician, it's my nature to be curious." Then she added softly, "You haven't answered my question."

  "And I won't."

  Vivid didn't press. He'd already told her all she needed to know. "Thank you again for the swing. I couldn’t have asked for a better homecoming present."

  Having him seated at her side made for a very good present also. Vivid decided. She'd thought of him often over the past three days, wondering about his nightmares, his first marriage. She especially wanted to talk to him about the nightmares but remembered Abigail's advice, and so kept her silence.

  The swing's rhythm was hypnotic. Vivid could feel the weariness in her bones begin to melt away.

  Nate turned to ask whether the Carpenter baby had been a boy or girl, but she was asleep.

  He carried her into the cabin and laid her gently on the bed. He debated whether to undress her so she could sleep more comfortably, but in the end he simply covered her with a blanket and headed back to his place. He decided that when the time came to undress the lovely Dr. Lancaster in bed, he wanted her wide awake.

  The next morning, Nate was out hitching his team to the wagon when he noticed her driving fast down the track that led out to the road. He stepped into her path and waved his arms and she pulled up on the reins and slowed.

  "Good morning, Nate," she said, "I apologize for falling asleep on you last night."

  He wondered how much longer he would be able to fight off the urge to drag her into his arms again. "No need to apologize. Where are you headed?''

  "Over to the Farley place. I'm taking his medical history this morning and I'm late."

  "Lancaster, you look dead on your feet. Farley can wait, go on back to bed.''

  "Nate, I don't have time to discuss this. Mr. Farley is waiting, and I must go."

  She slapped the reins down onto Michigan's rump and Nate stepped out of the way to let the wagon pass.

  After she and Mr. Farley finished their business, he asked if she would go up the road a piece and look in on a young woman who'd just given bir
th. Vivid agreed.

  By remembering the points on the map he'd drawn for her in the dirt, Vivid took only three-quarters of an hour to find the house he'd mentioned. She'd gotten lost only twice and despaired of ever finding her way around the Grove like the folks who'd lived here most of their lives. People kept telling her to be patient, that she'd learn her way around, but she found it all very frustrating, and it made her feel incompetent.

  Vivid hopped down from the wagon, secured the reins to a nearby sapling, then reached in and got her bag. The cabin looked tired. One entire side of the structure sagged, appearing as if it were trying to separate itself from the whole. There were holes in the roof, weeds, mud, and rusting skeletons of wagons in the yard. There was no cleared walkway, so Vivid picked the least muddy path and made her way to the door.

  Her knock on the rotting wood door summoned a young, pock-faced dark man who stared at her suspiciously. He slowly looked her up and down, then, as if he didn't like what he saw, spit a stream of tobacco onto the ground beside her feet.

  "Who're you?" he finally asked.

  "Dr. Lancaster. Mr. Farley sent me to check on the baby."

  "Farley needs to mind his own damned business," he said unpleasantly, but to Vivid's surprise he stepped back and let her enter. She almost wished he hadn't when she saw the interior. It was dark, hot, and smelled of rot and sweat. The little bit of light stroking the room came from the holes in the dilapidated roof overhead.

  As her eyes worked to adjust to the murky interior, she stepped forward and almost tumbled over something in the dimness. She grabbed out blindly to keep herself erect and came into contact with the warm skin of a small child. "Oh, I'm sorry, sweetheart." She looked down and saw a very dirty, naked little boy of about three years old. He stared up at her with the saddest eyes she'd ever seen, then took off at a toddler's run to a far corner of the room. He huddled down beside a woman lying on a dirty cot. In her arms she cradled a tiny child swaddled in a filthy blanket

  "Are you the doctor?" the woman asked in a reed-thin voice.

  Vivid wanted to rail against the poverty and filth of the family's living conditions but she held her tongue. "Yes," she replied softly, "I'm the doctor. What's your name?" Vivid crossed the room and knelt next to the pallet.

  The stench coming from the woman made Vivid's stomach churn.

  "My name's Sara James. That's my husband, Quentin."

  Vivid fought the urge to retch. "How long have you been ill, Sara?"

  Vivid glanced at the child in Sara's arms and went stock-still. The baby in the woman's arms looked dead. The stench was coming from the dead child, Vivid realized. She closed her eyes to gather strength, then fought to concentrate on Sara's reply.

  "I've been feeling poorly since right after little Willie here was born. He's such a sweet, sweet baby, isn't he?" She kissed his forehead tenderly.

  Vivid looked to the husband for some type of explanation, but his surly manner had not changed. He offered no help, so she turned back and asked gently, "How long ago was little Willie born?"

  Vivid wanted to take the gray lifeless bundle from Sara's arms but had no idea what she would do or how she would respond.

  A concerned Vivid waited as Sara seemed to ponder the question about the birth, but the girl did not offer an answer. Instead, she began to sing a lullaby. The frail voice was hauntingly beautiful. Its purity filled the cabin, banishing the filthy surroundings and fouled air until all that remained was a young woman singing softly to her infant. Vivid waited until the last clean note faded into the dimness, then said softly, "Sara, I'm going to go outside for a moment and talk to your husband."

  Once she and Quentin were outside she stated, "You know the baby is dead."

  He nodded, then spit.

  "When was the child born?"

  "Don't know. She'd already whelped when I got back from fishing a week ago. It was dead then."

  Vivid had to take a deep breath to control the trembling that began deep inside her. "The baby needs to be buried. Have you tried to talk to her?"

  "Hell, it's dead, let her keep it. Ain't mine no way."

  Vivid stared as he added, "Look, in a couple days I'm heading out for the Little Muskegon. They say it's a man's world up there. Do what you want with her."

  He walked off toward the small tumbledown shed in back of the place and never said another word.

  Back inside the cabin, Sara lay still cuddling the dead child. The naked toddler sat silent in the corner. Vivid had never handled a situation such as this before but knew the truth had to be made clear, no matter how much pain she caused. "Sara?"

  Vivid knelt down beside the cot once more.

  Sara looked up. Not even the dimness could mask the pain in her brown eyes. "Quentin's leaving, isn't he?"

  Vivid solemnly shook her head.

  "I didn't mean to go back on my vows. I was lonely. He doesn't understand how lonely it gets out here when he's away months at a time, especially in the winter. My baby's been dead for going on two weeks," she whispered in a tear-thickened voice. "I...thought if I pretended to be sick and pretended Willie was still alive, Quentin would claim him as his and wouldn't leave me."

  Sara cried then, loud wrenching tears that tore at Vivid's heart. Vivid put an arm around her and held her close until she quieted.

  Afterward, Vivid found a shovel in the shack behind the house but saw no sign of Quentin. It took her the better part of an hour to dig a hole deep enough in the hard-packed earth to shelter the baby Willie's remains. When it was done, she reentered the cabin and told Sara it was time. Silently the young woman, still holding the baby, followed Vivid outside.

  Sara lovingly placed him in the ground, wrapped in the filthy blanket he'd died in, because she had nothing else. Vivid said a prayer, then with Sara's permission began to gently shovel the dirt back atop the baby's still body. Sara began to sing "Steal Away" in a slow clear voice so filled with grief and mourning, chills ran up and down Vivid's arms as she worked.

  At the end of the solemn task, Vivid loaded Sara and the toddler in the wagon, took the reins, and headed the mule toward home.

  "I couldn't leave them there," Vivid explained to Abigail once Sara and the toddler Quentin were settled into one of the vacant bedrooms of the Grayson home. Mother and child had been bathed, clothed, and fed.

  "You did the right thing, Viveca," Abigail assured her over the pot of tea they were sharing. "Once we get word to Kate Pierce, she'll send for them. Sara's a distant niece if I remember correctly, but family is family to Kate. She wouldn't want Sara and the little one living under those distressing conditions. And the husband said he was going off to the Little Muskegon?''

  Vivid nodded in confirmation.

  Abigail shook her head with disgust. "Let's hope he never returns."

  Just as Abigail predicted, Kate Pierce showed up the next afternoon to retrieve Sara and the toddler. Sara refused to go at first, saying she didn't want to bring her shame into Kate's home, but Kate would hear none of it. Less than an hour after her arrival, Kate's wagon was pulling away from the Grayson home with Sara and her son Quentin atop the seat, waving goodbye to Vivid and Abigail.

  Chapter 12

  By mid-June, Vivid had been a resident of the Grove for over a month, and because of the high standards she set for herself, she worked from sunup to sundown. She visited families to take medical histories; saw patients in town at her new office; established a clinic at the church so she could see the babies once a week. She traveled from one end of the Grove to the other introducing herself to those she hadn't met and administering to the sick, both young and old. Some nights when she was too far from home to travel back, she slept on whatever accommodations her patients provided.

  By the end of June, the residents of the Grove had become accustomed to seeing Vivid and her mule, Michigan, traveling up and down the roads, and everywhere she went they greeted her with neighborly waves and smiles. When she wasn't doctoring she was helping folks plant ve
getables or sitting with young ones while the mothers went into town, or giving lectures at the church on every subject from measles to healthier eating.

  Nate no longer worried when she was away overnight. Enough people knew her and liked her for him to feel confident that they'd look out for her welfare. She still had a penchant for getting lost, or so he'd been told by some of the townsfolk. But that had to be expected, they all stated in her defense; after all, the Grove covered quite a bit of territory. They assured him she would soon know the area as well as anyone.

  For the most part, Nate had to admit Dr. Lancaster had so far proven to be every bit the doctor she'd claimed. He'd no idea how she'd accomplished it, but she made a supporter out of the pride-filled Garret Turner. Turner said he stopped selling off the majority of his vegetables and milk cream when she explained the children's health would benefit more from the vegetables and cream being on the table instead of it all going to market. She'd also made him see the importance of accepting help from his neighbors for the sake of his children. Nate hoped Turner would now let go of a bit more pride and take the Men's Association up on their offer to help him repair his ramshackle cabin and barn.

  Vivid had even gotten Aaron Patterson to let her remove the rotten tooth he'd been so reluctant to have her examine. The procedure had drawn quite a crowd. Aaron fainted dead away before she'd barely begun, and so missed the cheers when she smilingly held up the offending molar for all to see.

  However, in spite of all the favorable reports from the community, and Nate's own burgeoning desire for her, he continued to harbor reservations. Would she still be there next year this time? How would his people react to her leaving if she were tendered another offer for more money in a larger town at the end of her contract? In the short time she'd been there, she'd gained trust, faced down barriers, and held her own against men like Aaron Patterson, Adam Crowley, and, hell, him. The people liked her, listened to her, and seemed to be taking her advice to heart. Once Edna let it be known that Dr. Lancaster frowned on the so-called benefits of calomel, many area residents stopped ingesting it, especially after being made aware of the havoc it played with the teeth and gums. Nate had been raised by his father to always put the town's welfare above his own, and so, because of his lingering uncertainties, he had. To provide the Grove an alternative should she indeed decide to move on to greener pastures, he'd posted a cache of letters soliciting another physician, a male this time, just in case. His illogical side, the part of him that could still call up the taste of her kisses, was decidedly unhappy with this decision because she would undoubtedly be hurt and upset by his lack of confidence should the plan ever be revealed. It would also kill any future attempts to explore Viveca Lancaster, the woman. However, his logical side knew that further intimacies with her would only lead to disaster, and he had no qualms about staying the course for the benefit of the Grove. Finding another doctor made sense—just in case.