Doctor Timothy Creed called on Ann ten weeks after her accident. Mabel greeted him at the porch door with a bright smile.
“So good of you to call on us,” she said, removing her apron with one hand and offering him the other.
“If I knew you were coming I’d have made myself more presentable.”
Timothy Creed was thirty-five years old, tall, with light brown hair, a chin dimple, and a charming young wife. Three years ago, fresh out of the Dalhousie School of Medicine, the day after he opened his practice in Rockley, he received, by telegram, a summons to attend Mrs. Mabel Harney. When Creed arrived at the farm the patient was on the veranda waiting for him, dressed in her Sunday best. There was a lovely tea table set with pink china, and fruitcake and dainty squares laid on. He was invited to sit down and Mabel commenced to welcome him to the neighbourhood with gossip about the locals and much fluttering of eyelashes. She mentioned a headache when he inquired as to her health and she undid the two top buttons on her shirt waist to show him the difficulty she had turning her neck from side to side.
It didn’t take Dr. Creed long to realize that he had been lured there for a social call. He wasn’t told until afterwards, no new Rockley physician ever was, that Mabel Harney made a point of acquainting herself with all the young doctors who settled in the area.
“I’ll be a sick woman come morning,” Mabel had declared to her neighbour Fannie Burbine upon hearing that Doctor Creed was in need of patients.
Now she motioned for him to come in.
“Never mind your boots. I’m just about to get Mary to do the floors if I can find her.” She led the way into the kitchen and offered him a chair.
“I’m here to see Ann. I met your brother over at Bailey’s store this morning and he told me that she still wasn’t walking. I thought I’d take a look in to see how she was doing.”
“Oh, she’s fine.” Mabel rolled her eyes. “Just likes being waited on, that’s all. That’s what’s wrong with that one. She’s set up camp in the parlour. Says she can’t make the stairs yet. I’ll go see if she’s decent.”
Mabel hurried down the hallway and was back in less than a minute.
“Her majesty will see you now.”
Dr. Creed smiled and shook his head.
“It’s the second door on the right. Used to be a proper parlour. Now it’s a damn sickroom,” Mabel yelled from the kitchen.
“Hello, Ann,” Dr. Creed said. Ann watched as he seated himself on a faded green armchair.
“Dr. Creed, I’m surprised to see you,” she said, sliding herself up higher on the sofa.
She was wearing a flannel nightgown and wrapped in a black shawl. She was covered up to the waist with a blanket. Suddenly she felt too warm.
“I wanted to see for myself how you were doing.”
“That’s very kind of you. I’m still not able to put any pressure on my right ankle and the side of my right knee still hurts a lot. And on top of that my heart has been beating something awful lately. Did you know that my mother passed over a month ago? My heart started up right after that.”
“Yes, I heard. Accept my condolences. Now, let’s have a look. I’ll call Mrs. Harney into the room for a moment.”
As Mabel stood silent, her arms folded and her foot tapping, Doctor Creed pushed the front of Ann’s nightgown up to her knees, placed a hand on her right kneecap, then felt around to the inner side of her knee. She winced.
“It still hurts a lot there,” she said.
He touched the area gingerly. “You’ve bruised the bone. That’s why you have so much pain and why it’s taking so long to heal.”
“If it’s bruised, why isn’t it black and blue?” Mabel demanded.
“Because now only the bone is bruised, the skin has healed,” Creed answered, winking at Ann. “The only cure for that is time. Now the ankle.”
He lowered her nightgown to her knees and pressed on the top of the right ankle, using his forefinger.
“Does this hurt when I apply pressure here?”
“No, not really.”
“You did have a bad sprain but the swelling is gone now, and the bruising around the toes and on the bottom of the foot is as well. So what’s the problem?”
“I just don’t feel like I’d be steady on my feet. I’m not sure I can ever walk again.”
Creed sighed, placed the nightgown over Ann’s feet, and stepped back while she drew the bedclothes up around herself. He walked over to the table, rummaged around in his bag, and withdrew a stethoscope.
“Sit up for me. I’m going to listen to your heart and lungs.”
Ann removed the shawl, unbuttoned the collar of her nightgown, and bent forward. Doctor Creed stood behind her, slipped the stethoscope down the neck of her nightgown, and placed the instrument on her back. She gasped from its coldness against her skin.
“Well, your lungs sound strong and clear. Now for your heart.”
He moved around to face her and got down on one knee beside the couch. Ann held her collar open. Creed placed the stethoscope high on her left breast. The room was quiet except for the ticking of the grandfather clock in the corner.
“All right then.”
Creed removed the stethoscope from around his neck. He sat down and looked at his patient.
“Could you bring the doctor some tea?” Ann asked Mabel.
After Mabel left the room, Dr. Creed shut the door behind her and sat back down.
“So, Ann, how are you feeling in general?”
Ann liked Doctor Creed but she didn’t want him to know the truth. She had a difficult time admitting it even to herself: that she didn’t care anymore, about anything. And what kind of a wife and mother didn’t care? She didn’t want to be a wife to Will. She didn’t want him near her. She didn’t want to clean the house or cook. She didn’t want to look after the children. There was so much to do and she was just so tired.
“I feel sluggish and run down but at the same time I’m jumpy, nervous.”
“Have you been up and dressed since your fall?”
“No.”
“You’ve got to start getting dressed each day. It will make you feel like your old self.”
“It might.”
“And you haven’t been out of the house since your accident?”
“Oh my, no, I’m much too crippled for that.”
“You’re not crippled, Ann. You’ve just had a bad fall. Have you used the crutches that I gave you? I don’t see them. Where are they?”
“Oh, they’re out in the kitchen somewhere. I just haven’t felt strong enough to use them. Will and John carried me in here last week. And everyone has been so good helping us out. Rita LeFurgey is looking after the two little ones this afternoon. She takes them a couple of times a week so I can get some proper rest. And Mary’s a big help to me.”
“Ann, your muscles will weaken with no exercise. Starting tomorrow, I want you to walk around the house, using your crutches or not, every day for ten minutes. And start going outdoors every day too. It’s getting cooler now but the fresh air will do you good. You’ve got to get back on your feet, Ann. You’ll feel better when you’re looking after your own home once again.”
Ann didn’t know how she could possibly look after anything. She had no idea where to begin. And it didn’t matter. Everyone had been getting along without her for weeks now. And this house was not her home. She had never had a home of her own.
Suddenly there was a kick at the bottom of the door. Dr. Creed opened it and Mabel came in carrying a large tray bearing a Blue Willow teapot, three matching cups, a sugar bowl, cream pitcher, and spoons. She placed the tray on the table beside the doctor’s bag.
“Be right back with the biscuits. They’re just about ready,” she said.
“As you can see my mother-in-law is very good to me,” Ann said, stone-faced.
“As she should be,” Creed replied.
After tea, as he rose to leave, the doctor withdrew a small bottle from his bag and handed it to Ann.
“Your heart sounds like it has a bit of a flutter,” he said, “so I’m going to leave this with you. It’s powdered laudanum. Put a small amount of it in a glass of water or some spirits and it will help you sleep and calm those nerves of yours. It’s bitter, so be sure to add sugar to it as well. Mabel, make sure that she takes this each evening before she goes to bed.”
“Yes, sir,” Mabel said, clearing away the tray.
***
“The doctor’s call made no difference whatsoever,” Mabel told Fannie Burbine in the yard of St. Peter’s Catholic Church the following Sunday.
“Beyond limping around the house a couple of times, that one doesn’t try to walk at all. She’s determined to be sick.”
Fannie shook her head. “I don’t see how you can put up with it, Mabel, I really don’t.”
“Clear, sheer laziness is what it is. And it’s beyond me how my Will let himself get mixed up with that bunch in the first place. To top it all off, as you know, they’re Protestants.”
“You warned him and warned him, it’s his own fault if he didn’t listen to you,” Fannie told her friend.
“Yes, he burnt his arse now he has to sit on the blisters.”
“Will is a bright boy, he could have gone places.” Fannie put her arm through Mabel’s and the two women walked towards home.