John Paul looked out at the park. He had already noticed the trees, and they made it seem like they were in their own private space, but if he looked he could see others around. A few young men throwing a ball back and forth; the ball hitting their gloves when they caught it made a loud “pop!” as each tried to throw harder than the other. Down the path a ways he saw that it turned and went over a small creek that ran through the park, that ran off under the streets somewhere.
Some children played in the water, though it must have been cold, their pants pulled up past their knees. One of the young boys splashed some water up and hit one of the girls with it, and they splashed their disapproval and squealed unhappily.
John Paul took a deep breath. Being here with Lydia, he imagined that they were his children, and he was seeing their lives writ large spread around the park. His heart pounded and he felt very satisfied.
“Would you like to go on,” he offered.
“Certainly,” answered she. He pushed himself up. His legs rebelled as he started to stand, and then refused to work altogether in protest and sent him pitching over to his knees. Lydia gasped and Henry came rushing toward his uncle.
“Are you alright?”
John Paul laughed weakly but made no move to stand back up.
“I guess… I’m more tired than I thought.” He turned over into a seated position, and gave an apologetic smile to Lydia, whose face was white as a sheet. “I’m just a little tired. I’ll be right as rain in the morning, my dear, you’ll see. Just some bed rest and it’ll all be fine.”
He let Henry help him up and then sat back down on the bench.
“Perhaps you should go home with your brother, though. I wouldn’t want to scare you like that again.”
“Oh, okay,” she said softly, clearly upset by the whole affair.
John Paul took her hands in his, and brought them to his lips.
“I’ll be waiting until we can see each other again.”
“Feel better, mister Foster.”
“I will do my best, miss Wakefield.”
Lydia stood and started to walk away. She didn’t look back, and John Paul wondered if that wasn’t purposeful. He was glad for it, either way. He stood up gingerly, using the back of the bench to steady himself. He felt woozy, though he thought he could make it without falling again. He let go of the bench and staggered a step before catching himself. Henry reached out and grabbed his arm.
“This way,” he said. “I’ll take you to the coach, you’ll be alright there.”
“Thank you,” John Paul said weakly.
John Paul thought that he wanted to go home, and for a few moments it seemed as if that was where Henry was taking him, holding the reins of his horse as he rode alongside, but after a few moments it became clear that he wasn’t heading there, or
at least wasn’t heading straight there. He turned down a side route, and the Colonel weakly protested.
“No,” his nephew said sternly. “I’ll be taking you to a doctor now, and that’s that.”
John Paul didn’t argue. He didn’t prefer this sternness from a young lad; it was unbecoming, and downright rude, but he couldn’t disagree with the decision itself, try as he might. It was simply smarter to go to the doctor. He had been putting it off far too long if a simple walk in the park would have such ruinous effect on his constitution.
So he allowed himself to be guided up to the door of a doctor. A sign on the door outside marked it as the offices of a Dr. Laurie, and he followed his nephew inside. He tried to keep his shoulders straight, but he found himself too tired to do it. He struggled even to form particulary coherent thoughts.
Henry stepped up to the front desk and rapped against it until a tired-looking man stepped out from the back.
“Can I help you?”
“Yes,” Henry said. “It’s my uncle, you see, there.”
John Paul had slumped into one of the chairs; it was comfortable and he had no particular desire to move out of it, but now it seemed as if he were going to be forced to whether he preferred it or not. He pushed himself a little way out of the chair to signal that he had heard, and then slumped back.
His ears were starting to ring again, something he had managed to push out of his mind for the past several years. Most days, he thought he hadn’t heard any ringing in his ears at all, but now with the pounding in his chest and the rush of blood to his ears he heard the ringing as clear as a bell once more.
He wanted to go home, more than anything. This infernal fatigue should surely go away sooner or later. What use had he of going to the doctor? He shook his head. That was foolish thinking. He had a family, or the makings of one, now. He had to keep himself in good condition for the sake of his nephew and his bride-to-be. If he were a little bit sick, all the better, but if it were something he should really be worried about…
He shuddered. Best not to think of the possibilities. That was only going to be disconcerting in the extreme. Rather, he should think that things would be quite alright.