"Where did Doc Miner live, Magic?" Vivid asked.
"In the little house behind ours."
"I see. Well, Mr. Grayson, where should the man take my trunks?"
"Take them over to the house, Vernon. Thanks."
Vernon turned to leave but Vivid called him back. "Mr. Vernon?"
He gave Vivid a smile. "Name's Stevenson, Doc. Vernon's my given name."
"I'm sorry. Mr. Stevenson—"
"Call me Vernon."
She shook her head and smiled. “Thank you, Vernon. I just want to say, most of those trunks contain medical supplies and books; please be careful with them."
"I'll treat them like they're made of gold."
Vivid nodded her thanks.
"Have Nate bring you by to meet my missus when you get settled," Vernon said. "That fine with you, Nate?"
Nate thought about having this unconventional woman in his own backyard and it gave him a headache. He took his spectacles off, set them on the desk, and rubbed his weary eyes. It was still early in the day, yet he felt as if it were way past dark. "Fine with me, Vernon."
Vivid turned to Magic then and said, "Well, Magic, looks like you and I are going to be neighbors."
While Magic clapped with glee, Vivid looked over at Nate. Their eyes held and Vivid smiled.
Nate saw Vernon out to the wooden walk, then took a moment to shoo the small but curious crowd away from his door and window. Everyone wanted to know about the lady doctor, and all had questions. He promised their questions would be answered at the next council meeting and they reluctantly dispersed.
When he reentered the office, Magic was seated in the chair behind his desk, and the doctor was drawing something on a piece of paper. At his approach Magic looked up and said, "Pa, Dr. Lancaster is real smart. She just showed me how to beat Wendell in marbles tomorrow."
"Oh, really?"
"Yes, she said it's just a matter of geometry."
Nate peered over his daughter's shoulder at the diagram. He could see the small circles he assumed were marbles. A series of angled lines and arrows had also been drawn, showing the paths the marbles could take.
Nate looked over his daughter's head and into the dark eyes of the doctor. "You play marbles, Doctor?"
"All my life."
"And you studied geometry?"
"Yes."
Before Nate could absorb that information, Magic said to her father, "Dr. Lancaster wanted to know if we had a hospital, I told her no."
Nate confirmed his daughter's statement, adding, "We have to go to the hospital up in Kalamazoo."
"Have you ever considered building one here? It wouldn't have to be a large facility."
"No," Nate replied, though he found the idea intriguing.
"Well, after I complete this trial to your satisfaction, maybe we can discuss it."
"You're awfully confident, Lancaster."
"Part of my nature. Will you agree to a discussion of the idea?"
"Finish the trial and we'll discuss it."
Vivid was pleased he'd agreed without a battle. "I'd like to see Dr. Miner's office if I may."
"He practiced out of the cabin you'll be living in."
"He didn't have an office in town?"
"No. When he first came to the Grove in '56, the only building in this clearing was the old trading post that stood where the general store is now."
Vivid thought about that a moment. Since she was from a large city she had just assumed the doctor would be located in town. "How large is his cabin?"
"Not very."
Does the cabin have any type of ward?''
"No."
Vivid knew that would never do. Even in a town as slow paced as this one seemed to be, accidents and epidemics occurred. There needed to be a place for her to house patients who might need extended care or quarantine. "Where did Dr. Miner house his patients overnight?" she asked.
"Sometimes on the small cot in the front room, but he rarely had folks stay over."
"Then what did he do in an emergency, say if three or four people were injured or ill at the same time?''
"If they weren't contagious we'd put them up at our place. If they were, Doc treated them at home."
Vivid decided that would never do either; the Graysons shouldn't have to house patients. "Is there a space in town I might lease to use as an office?"
"There is the old seamstress shop. She pulled up stakes last fall."
"May I see it?"
"Now?"
"The sooner I open for business, the sooner I can see to the health of your people, Mr. Grayson."
He gestured her to the door and followed her out.
Unbelievably, the day had gotten even more humid. The thick air had a heaviness reminiscent of the fog back home in San Francisco, except the Michigan air held not a degree of coolness. Vivid thought she was going to melt.
Beside her, Nate could see she was suffering from the heat. "You know, Doc, heat like this can make a person sick."
"I'm fine." If she fainted from the heat, he'd ship her home first thing tomorrow. Nate smiled knowingly.
The empty cabin that had once been a seamstress shop stood only a short distance down the street from Nate's office. Vivid didn't know if she wanted him to be so close by. She imagined daily arguments and his peering over her shoulder all the time, but if this was the only space available, it would have to do.
Nate extracted a ring of keys from his shirt pocket and stuck one of the keys into the padlock fastened to the wooden bolt on the front door. When he opened the door he went in first, followed by Vivid and Magic.
It was like stepping into a furnace; the hot air made it hard to breathe. The room was gloomy due to a lack of light, and the single window frame had been boarded shut. Enough light entered through the open front door and the cracks between the logs to show the dirt-packed floor and the dimensions of the room.
Nate said, "The seamstress displayed her goods out here and lived in one of the two small rooms in the back."
"Why did she leave?" Vivid asked, waving away a pesky insect.
"Couldn't take the winter."
Vivid didn't rise to his bait. Instead, she walked into the deep shadows, barely able to make out the interiors of the two back rooms. She peered around in the dark, then rejoined Magic and her father.
"It's in better shape than I imagined," Nate said. "There's field mice in here somewhere." He used his foot to indicate a small nest in the corner. "Won't take much to clean it up, though."
Vivid asked, "Has the window ever held glass?"
"Yes, but after the seamstress left we put the pane in the window of the store. Didn't make sense to let the glass go to waste."
Vivid doubted the glass would be returned now, so she would order more. She also needed to have a proper floor installed. After that, she would take care of the dozens of other necessary improvements in time.
Nate waited, arms folded.
Vivid looked over at him standing in the dim light and asked, "How much?"
He quoted a reasonable price, adding "And I'll arrange for the cleaning."
Vivid looked around once more. "And there's no other place available?"
"No."
"Then I will take it."
Nate ushered them out and relocked the door. He turned to his daughter and said, "Magic, run over to the store and bring back some pastries and something cool for the doctor to drink. Meet us back at my office."
"Sure, Pa."
After a short repast of the pastries and the sweetest, coldest water Vivid had ever drunk, she and Nate drew up the papers for the lease. When everything had been signed, he suggested they leave for the Grayson home. Vivid agreed. She wanted to inspect the house she would be occupying. Although she'd vowed to be content with whatever the fates bestowed. Vivid dearly hoped the living accommodations were in better condition than the store she'd leased for her office.
Chapter 4
The wagon bearing Vivid and the Graysons rattle
d along on the pocked and rutted road. For a half hour, Magic sat between the two adults trying to convince her father to build her a tree house. Vivid, sitting quietly on the end of the seat, listened with a smile as Nate recited all the fatherly reasons why a nine-year-old girl should not have such a place—safety being his main concern. Vivid understood his anxiety, but since she herself had had a tree house, she silently sided with Magic. However, she didn't offer any opinions because she had no place in the discussion between father and daughter, so instead she reviewed all that had happened. When she left California, she'd imagined that coming to Michigan involved nothing more than a simple introduction to Abigail Grayson and an immediate opening of a practice in Grayson Grove. She'd not planned on Nate Grayson being the joker in the deck. He impressed her as a stubborn, opinionated man, who'd become well accustomed to having his own way. In all truth, she guessed he probably found her cut from a similar cloth, but Vivid believed such traits were necessary for females in a male-dominated world; in a man they were simply irritating.
Her musings were interrupted by the constant bounce of the wagon against the unleveled road, lifting her up and bringing her down. Hard. After enduring the transcontinental train ride and the jolting two-hour ride to Grayson Grove, her backside was decidedly unhappy. She would surely be unable to sit on anything for at least a month if this kept up much longer. "How much farther?" she asked. "About a mile," Grayson answered.
While Magic continued to plead her case for the tree house with all the fervor of a nine-year-old, Vivid returned her attention to the view. Michigan was so unlike home. Here one could hear the songs of birds, the wind whispering secrets from the endless stand of trees. There were no mountains, but up ahead the land dipped and then rose. For as far as she could see, there were trees, trees, and more trees. Here and there small patches of cleared plots anchored by little houses and farms dotted the landscape, but mostly the land exuded newness and raw vitality.
"Rain ahead, Pa," Magic pointed out.
"I see it. Get the slickers. They're in the bed."
While Magic climbed into the back of the wagon with the quick agility inherent in most children, Vivid worriedly scanned the dark clouds filling the sky ahead. The trees she'd viewed earlier as just examples of pastoral beauty began to respond with a distinct restlessness. The wind picked up and was now blowing against her face.
Once again in her seat, Magic handed a patched and well-used slicker to her father and another to Vivid, who donned it immediately while Magic shrugged into the last one, smiling. "I love storms."
Vivid wondered if the child had suddenly become delirious. Magic watched the road ahead with unbridled glee as she said, "There was a real bad one last year. Took Widow Moss's pigpen all the way to the river."
The first boom of thunder rumbled into hearing. The trees were louder now, the tops bowing to the superior force of the increasing winds. Vivid had been caught outside in a few showers back home, but she doubted this would be anything near those mild affairs. The lightning dancing ominously ahead didn't seem to dampen Magic's mood one bit. "Count, Dr. Lancaster!"
Count? Vivid had no idea what the girl meant, but she could see Magic's lips moving as she counted silently. Then she heard a boom of thunder.
"Nine, Pa," Magic reported as she sharp crackling died.
"Thanks, keep me posted."
Magic turned to Vivid. "It's how to tell where the storm's going. You have to watch for the lightning. When you see it flash, count until you hear the thunder. Then you watch again and count. If the number is smaller than the first time, the storm is closer. If the number gets bigger, it's moving away."
Vivid had never heard of such a thing.
"The SeePees taught it to Pa Grayson when he first settled the Grove, and he taught it to Grandpa. Grandpa taught it to my pa, and Pa taught it to me," Magic explained proudly.
"You counting or talking, Majestic?" her father asked.
"Sorry, pa."
Vivid was about to ask who or what SeePees were when the rain began: fat, wet pellets the size of dollars. Vivid's hat, a fashionable confection on the streets of San Francisco, offered no protection against the deluge of Michigan wind and water.
"Six, Pa!"
He nodded, then bent and kept one eye on the reins as he reached beneath the seat to bring out two weather-beaten hats. He wordlessly passed one to Magic and tossed the other onto Vivid's lap. She hastily removed her hatpin and hat. The wind tried to take her lovely green hat, but she fought off the gust and pinned the soggy felt between her knees while she pulled on the other hat, grateful for its large size and wide brim.
The sky above had gone from slate-gray to a tumultuous black in a matter of minutes. Rain blew across Vivid's face with a strength that made it hard to see and breathe. She could only pray Grayson knew where he and the horses were headed. The smaller trees were now prostrate in obeisance and the older ones were bowing at the waist. The angry, deep bass sound of thunder rumbled louder and louder.
"Four and a piece, Pa!"
"We'll hole up at the old Reynolds place!" he shouted over another crack of thunder, loud as cannon fire.
How he found the small rut that led from the main road to the burned-out hulk of the old Reynolds place, Vivid did not know. She'd never been so grateful to see shelter. She and Magic scrambled down quickly while Grayson unhitched the horses. Humans and animal sought refuge within.
"Over here, Dr. Lancaster," Magic said, grabbing Vivid's hand. "Southeast corner, always."
Vivid went quietly, all the while marveling. Did all Michigan people know about counting lightning and the safest corner inside a house? When Magic sat down on the dirt floor, so did Vivid. She had no idea if sitting was part of the drill, but sitting on something that didn't bounce against her tender backside felt wonderful.
The storm did not qualify as wonderful. Outside, the rain and wind screamed. Inside, the partially standing walls and what remained of the roof cut some of the fury but not enough to keep them from experiencing the wrath of the wind, the ground-shaking cracks of lightning strikes, and the malevolent echoes of the accompanying thunder.
"Are storms always this way, Magic?" Vivid yelled above the noise.
"Oh, this is a big one, but wait till it gets hot in the summer. Then you'll see some big storms."
Vivid shook her head, still unable to comprehend the child's fascination. Vivid liked storms also, but she'd never experienced such violent weather. But if she planned on being the doctor here, she'd have to accustom herself to such episodes. Not all medical emergencies happened on bright, sunny days.
She looked up to see Grayson watching her. Their eyes held. Vivid felt something touch her from within the distant gaze, then he turned away.
A few moments later, the storm passed as swiftly as it had appeared, leaving behind a soft rain and a cool breeze.
The wagon was stuck in the mud. Grayson jumped down from the seat and called to his daughter standing next to Vivid in the doorway of the shack. "Majestic, come take the reins."
Magic ran through the mud out to the wagon and scrambled aboard. Her father went around to the back to push. Vivid was smiling as she watched him slog through the slop until he turned her way and said, "Doctor, you either help push or walk. Your choice."
Vivid wondered how he'd feel about having two bullet holes in that old beat-up hat of his instead of one. She had absolutely no desire to traverse that mud, but rather than be judged unfit, she started toward the wagon. She gasped as the cold mud swallowed her shoes. Her stricken face met his amused eyes. She slogged through the mud just as he had, although she was certain he hadn't mourned the loss of an expensive pair of shoes during the journey. She did her best to hold her skirts up from the muck but the going was slow at best.
"Now while Magic reins the team, we'll push," he told her.
In tandem with Grayson, Vivid gave it all she had. It took three tries to free the wheels enough for the horses to gain leverage. When the wheels fi
nally came free, the sudden movement made Vivid lose her balance and land face first in the mud. Grayson's uproarious laughter gave her a sense of how she must look. She stood up, wiped the mud from her eyes, and looked down at her beautiful ruined dress. The snow-white blouse with its hand-done lace and mother-of-pearl buttons looked as if it had been doused in gravy. The traveling dress her aunt had sent her from Mexico would never be emerald-green again. Grayson was still laughing, and so was Magic, the traitor.
"If we're finished, may we go now?" she asked haughtily.
"Sure," Nate told her, but he couldn't stop laughing. Vivid gave him a blistering look and climbed into the wagon.
Some time later a shocked Abigail Grayson met them at the door. "Oh, my dear Dr. Lancaster, look at you. What happened?"
Magic piped up, "She fell in the mud, Aunt Gail. I thought Pa was going to bust a gut laughing so hard."
"Nathaniel!" his aunt said scoldingly.
"Don't 'Nathaniel' me, Abigail I'm-gone-to-Kalamazoo Grayson. You have some explaining to do."
Had Vivid not been so wet and chilled she'd have laughed at the look of feigned innocence on Abigail's face as she replied, "Why, I've no idea what you mean."
"I'll bet you don't," Nate said, smiling.
Abigail smiled back, then said, "Dr. Lancaster, come on in here where we can get you dry. Nate, bring in some water for her. Magic, change out of those wet things and set the table."
Abigail Grayson was nearly as tall as her nephew and had the same smoke-black eyes. She leaned on a cane and moved as proudly as if she were royal-born. She steered Vivid through the well-furnished front room of the very large house and back to the kitchen.
"There's biscuits in the oven. I'm sure they won't mind you stealing a little of their heat."
A shivering Vivid warmed her hands near the warm metal.
Moments later, Nate reentered from the back of the house carrying a huge cauldron of water. From beneath her lashes Vivid watched his arms strain with the weight as he set it atop the stove, the corded muscles as beautifully detailed as an anatomy drawing. Vivid forced her attention back to Abigail, "I'm sorry, Mrs. Grayson, what did you say?"
"It's Miss Grayson, Dr., and I asked if you wanted some tea."