Gerald Anderson had never known such happiness as in the two months following that clandestine kitchen conversation with Mariana Bryant.
“Have you ever been so happy?” he had asked her, one Sunday afternoon after they had heard her brother Thomas preach for the first time in the little church, and they had applauded with the rest of the family, and a proud yet surprised crimson had covered Pastor Bryant’s face.
“Never,” she had replied, a beaming smile turned upwards to his own. “Never.”
It almost felt wrong just how right it was, being with Mariana. He took Elizabeth’s temperature four times one morning, until she gently reminded him it was unlikely to change so rapidly in just five minutes. Once he went an entire day without eating as Mariana’s laugh rang in his ears. One day, he wore two shirts and could not comprehend the heat of the September sun.
“You look lovesick to me,” Katherine would berate him with a grin, as he dropped over some medicine for a tickly cough she simply could not shift. “Are you sure you do not need a little of your own medicine, Doctor Anderson?”
And yet what medicine could possibly offer him relief from these symptoms that he relished so gladly?
“Sometimes,” he revealed to Mariana as they had sat in companionable silence for some minutes, “I believe all this joy is about to be taken away from us; because I simply do not deserve it.”
“You deserve it, I am sure,” was her reply, a wry smile across her face. “The Lord knows I certainly do.”
When a man starts to feel for Mariana as he was sure he did, Gerald knew there was but one natural course of action, and he did not lack the desire to offer her his hand in marriage – but when to do it became the question that started to confuse and mystify him.
One Wednesday, as October approached, he considered dropping to one knee after Aaron opened the beehives, and Mariana laughed in open wonder at the sound of the buzzing as the hive moved in anger towards their keeper.
But then Sophia had screamed, stung on her hand as she had attempted to swat several away from her, and Gerald’s instincts had taken him away from the woman who had captured his affections and towards the sobbing child.
The next day, when Elizabeth had suggested a dinner the following evening, Gerald accepted with unusual grace.
“I would be delighted,” he said, beaming – and then the reason for her initial visit came to him, bringing his emotions crashing down. “Mrs Bryant . . . Elizabeth, I have not seen you for some weeks now. Is everything – ”
“Everything is fine,” she replied swiftly, and then she was gone.
Elizabeth and Jonathan were still on his mind the entirety of the next day, and as he dressed before the small looking glass for their dinner late Friday afternoon, Gerald could not help but sigh with mixed emotions. This was the day he was going to be the happiest he had ever been – but it was a tad bittersweet that it would occur at Elizabeth’s table.
The air was cooling, bringing Gerald relief after the long sweltering summer. The stars were starting to twinkle out, and he could only make out the Top Field if he squinted. Autumn was definitely on its way.
Mariana was standing outside her front door on the verandah, wearing a long gown in sweetest buttercup yellow. His heart swelled at the sight of her.
“Good evening, Gerald,” she said without turning her head.
He could not help but laugh. “How is it you can tell it is me every time?”
She smiled a secret smile, but would not answer as he took her arm in his, and they walked the few yards to Elizabeth and Jonathan’s house.
“Welcome!” It was Jonathan who opened the door and beamed at them. “Elizabeth has broken not one, but two plates in preparation for tonight’s meal, so if you find a little toughness in your stew it is likely bone china, rather than bone.”
They laughed and heard Elizabeth’s answering giggle from inside. “Jonathan Bryant, if you would like to cook yourself then you are more than welcome!”
“I do not think he would taste over nice,” came another voice from inside, and Gerald could make out a swish of blonde hair rushing past.
Jonathan smiled wryly. “I know not how Abigail has become a chit of twenty, when but yesterday she was an innocent child of fourteen. Come in, come in.”
After being ushered into the hallway and being relieved of their coats, Jonathan welcomed them into the dining room – and what a sight to behold! Elizabeth had once again outdone herself, and the table was laden with delicious wonders Gerald had not seen in years: roasted chicken with vegetables, gravy thicker than anything he had ever seen . . .
“My word,” he said admiringly, “Jonathan, you are a lucky man to have such a woman in your kitchen!”
It was at that moment Elizabeth and Phoebe walked into the room, gravy smeared across one of Elizabeth’s cheeks and a smile on both their faces.
“That he is, Doctor Anderson, and I thank you,” said Elizabeth. “I do not think, to tell the truth, that I am getting any better at my craft – since the fire, of course, I simply do not leave any cooking unattended.”
“Fire?” Gerald’s eyes widened. “I did not know there had been a fire!”
Jonathan shrugged. “It was a few years ago, and though we have not found the culprit, even now – ”
“No more talk of that,” interrupted Elizabeth with a smile. “Here is Phoebe now. Aaron must go to El Seco with Sophia for some medical supplies for . . . for Katherine’s baby, so Phoebe has graciously accepted my late invitation. Shall we eat?”
Despite the tastiness of the food, Gerald could barely concentrate on the meal, and it seemed to be dragging on and on forever. Mariana was on his right, and every mouthful was to him to be a form of art; how did she sense where the food is? How could she balance it all, neatly, on her fork? How did she not miss her mouth time and time again? And most importantly of all, the question nagging at his soul: when would there be a moment he could drop to his knees and propose to the woman who had brought him such happiness?
“That was lovely, Elizabeth,” Abigail spoke in her quiet voice, and her sister-in-law blushed with pleasure.
“Thank you.” Mariana’s words were short, but as the family knew, what she said, she meant. Gerald beamed with pride at the woman he was courting – he, Gerald Anderson! It was all too good to be true.
“Shall we move on to dessert?” Phoebe said with a languid smile. “I brought over some honey from the hives, and I thought – ”
But exactly what she thought, the table was never to find out. Her words were cut off with a loud bang emanating from the hallway, and in a moment before any of them could react, it was repeated with the door before them, and a half-deranged man entered the room, panting heavily.
It was Thomas Bryant.
“You!” He shouted like a malediction, pointing a shaking finger right at Doctor Gerald Anderson. “You – out of this house, this instant!”
Silence rang out after his yells. Gerald’s heart sank; there was only one reason a refined and civil man such as Pastor Thomas Bryant would rush into another’s house and throw him out.
He knew. He had to know. But how could he?
“I mean it, Anderson!” Thomas spat, eyes narrowed and finger still pointing directly at the doctor. “If you know what is good for you, then you should leave Sweet Grove this very evening.”
“Leave?” Mariana repeated blankly. “Goodness, Thomas, why? Has Sophia fallen sick in El Seco?”
“Or is it Aaron?” Phoebe said with an anxious tone.
Thomas laughed darkly and sneered. “‘Tis no one that this Doctor Anderson can harm now – the damage is already done!”
Gerald felt deathly cold. Perhaps if he left now the truth would not come out – he could just leave, disappear in the night like he had at San Marco. But Mariana was by his side, and she reached out a hand to rest on his own.
“Damage already done?” Mariana said faintly. “Thomas, what on earth do you mean?”
“What you do not know about your precious Doctor Anderson,” Thomas said in a low voice as he moved into the dining room, closer to Gerald, who was trying not to shake, “is he was drummed out of the last practice he had. And the one before. And Houston before that. He was thrown out because of the truth, and yet when I asked him about it the day he arrived here, Doctor Anderson could not even do me the courtesy of telling me what it was.”
“Steady there, Thomas,” said Jonathan quietly. “False accusations have ripped this family apart before, remember.”
“This is no false accusation!” Thomas said angrily. “This is as true as the gospel! Tell them, sir. Tell them why Sweet Grove is the fourth place you have lived in less than a year.”
Gerald swallowed. This was it; this was the moment he lost everything he thought he had gained since stepping into Sweet Grove. All the love, respect, and kindness he had received: it was to be taken from him.
But had he deserved it in the first place?
“Years ago,” he said hoarsely, trying not to look at Mariana’s face, “there was an accident at one of the lumber mills near San Marco, where I lived. The man involved – he was lucky to have still been alive when he was brought to me.”
Gerald tried not to allow his mind to disappear back to that terrible day, but the smell of the sawdust had already returned, and so too had the screams. Those terrible screams.
“He had lost a lot of blood,” he continued faintly. “I did absolutely all I could to save him, but it was simply not possible. He lost the arm that night, and two days later . . . he died.”
Silence. It was enough to make Mariana feel like she was about to be sick. She raised her hands to her face to hide in, and then the silence was broken: and it was Phoebe’s tears that had done so.
“I did all I could, and more!” Gerald’s voice said urgently.
“But that is not quite true, is it, Doctor Anderson?” Thomas said, and Mariana did not need to be able to see him to feel the rage in his tones. “Negligence was the word used!”
“No,” she whispered, more to herself than anything else. “No, this cannot be.”
“I did everything I could, that is no negligence!” Gerald was saying earnestly.
“Not enough!” Thomas shouted back.
“Thomas, you were not there!” Now Elizabeth was interjecting, but she sounded nervous, and she was immediately cut across.
“Are you medically trained, sir?” Now there was a coarseness to Gerald’s voice Mariana had never heard before, and she felt a tear escape from her eye. “Because without full medical training, you cannot possibly comment!”
“At San Marco?” This voice was softer, quieter, and it was Phoebe’s – though no one was paying her any attention.
“Sometimes God decides to take people home earlier than we would hope,” Gerald was now saying in a broken voice. “Who am I to argue with Him?”
“But that is not quite what happened, is it?” Thomas threw back at him. “I heard tell of an experimental treatment, one designed to kill or cure. That is not the Lord’s doing, Doctor Anderson, that is your willful betrayal of a patient!”
“The patient consented!” Gerald shouted back, suddenly angry, and Mariana flinched to hear him speak so. “The patient knew the risks, and he decided to – ”
“His name was Eduardo.”
Those four words silenced the entire table. Mariana turned her head this way and that to try and understand exactly who had spoken.
“Phoebe?” The whisper came from Abigail. “What do you know of this?”
There was another pause, and then Phoebe spoke four more words Mariana could never have predicted.
“He…he was my husband.”
The clatter of a chair told Mariana Gerald had risen hastily, chair falling to the floor.
“Your – your husband?” His voice sounded broken down and beaten, as though he had been given a death sentence.
Mariana’s head hurt and she was crying now, silently. It had all been too good to be true, after all. The man she had cared for deeply – had, if she was honest with herself, fallen in love with – was just the same sort of medical man she had had the misfortunate to meet all of those years ago.
“His name was Eduardo Vazquez, and I loved him,” Phoebe was saying quietly. “He worked at the lumber mill, and we were happy. One day . . . he did not come home. An accident, they told me, and a doctor was taking care of him, and I was not to worry. They would not let me see him . . .”
“I did not want you distressed,” replied Gerald in a croaky voice. “I told them the wife – I did not know your name – would only be distressed by the sight of him. His body was…there was so much blood and I did not want you to see – ”
“And two days later, they told me he had died,” Phoebe spoke, and her voice shook, and Mariana heard the drop of a tear onto her empty plate. “And I never got to say goodbye to him, or bring his child to him, or – or tell him I loved him – or . . .”
She was unable to continue at this point, and Mariana’s heart ached for her. With a rush of noise, the crying sounds left the room. Phoebe slammed the front door behind her as she left.
“You . . . you killed Phoebe’s first husband?” Elizabeth sounded horrified, as though she had been told Jonathan was a killer.
“No!” Gerald cried.
“Yes,” said Thomas firmly.
“No – please, you must understand me! Some patients die; it is not within my power to save every single person that comes through my door!”
“I cannot believe that a doctor would do such a thing.” Jonathan finally spoke, and Mariana was heartened by his disbelief and yet how could he, with such evidence before him? “But Phoebe evidently comprehends more of this than we do. Her loss is truly great.”
“And I do not diminish it,” said Gerald swiftly. “But if I could save every man, woman, and child who walks into my practice, I would be a miracle worker, not a man!”
“Experimental treatment.” Mariana had not been able to get those words out of her mind, and she repeated them now. “Experimental treatment, that is what Thomas said. What did he mean, Gerald?”
For a moment, she did not think he was going to answer. And then: “‘Tis not experimental in the truest sense, Mariana – it is used on the battlefield all the time, and eight times out of ten, it saves a man’s life!”
“It did not save Eduardo Vazquez’s life,” she said, trying to keep the sob from her voice.
“You must believe me – I am begging you, Mariana!”
But she had already risen, and more gracefully than he, without her chair tipping to the ground. She could not stay here; how could she, knowing now what he was?
“I have to go now,” she said dully, but before she could even leave the room, a hand clasped hers.
“But Mariana – Mariana, I love you!”
She smiled wryly. “I had wanted you to say those words, Doctor Anderson – ”
“Gerald – please call me Gerald!”
“ – but not like this,” she finished. “Not like this. You are just like all of the other doctors, Doctor Anderson: you believe so fiercely in your craft you forget that it is people’s lives you cut into when you cut into a man’s flesh.”
The hand was shaken off, and she moved around the table to where she knew the door was.
“But Mariana!”
Before she walked through the door, she turned to face the room and said the words she knew she had to say, that were bitter in her mouth like poison. “But Doctor Anderson, I do not love you. Who could love a murderer?”