“That should heal up right fine, Martha,” Dr. Gabriel Havers, trailing along behind, told her in a hearty tone. “I’m sorry I had to hurt you, Billy, sewin’ up that nasty ole cut. But look at it this way, you won’t be takin’ a bath for at least a week.”
“And you want to see him again in a few days?”
“Yeah, sure do; I wanna double-check that everything’s doin’ as it should. Okay, Bill? You were mighty brave, young man, and your maw and me are proud of you. You just keep that wound covered and dry, now, hear?”
Tears still brimming, the boy, who couldn’t have been more than four years old, nodded, sniffled, and glanced up at his mother for reassurance.
Just then the doctor spied his visitor. “Well, Miss Burton, hello. Have you met my patient here?” Smiling, he introduced one to the other. Mrs. Martha Thompson; Miss Letitia Burton; Master William Thompson. “Billy has learned a great lesson in life, Miss Burton. Mere flesh and blood can never stand up to broken glass.”
“I appreciate you doin’ this, Doctor. Billy, what do you say for the horehound candy this nice man gave to you?”
The child looked dubious about the “nice man” part, but he managed to mumble a thank you, regardless.
Once the pair had said their helloes and goodbyes and departed, Gabriel shifted with his usual affable expression. “That little nipper escaped punishment by the skin of his teeth. Broke his mother’s favorite vase and then tried to hide the evidence. If he hadn’t been bleedin’ like a stuck pig, I reckon his bottom woulda been blistered.”
“Perhaps it still might be,” suggested Letitia, “once the cut is healed?”
“Oh, maybe. But Martha will take one look at the scar on his knee and save up money to buy another doodad. Well, Miss Burton.” Hand extended, the doctor ushered her into his office. It was a relatively orderly room, containing diplomas on the wall and a shelf full of books and an extra chair for the visitor’s comfort. “What sorta problem have you got for me today?”
“No problem, actually. I was hoping to—” she paused, blushing, as she seated herself and settled her fluffy skirts, “—I was hoping that I might possibly solve one of yours.”
“Oh, yeah?” Curious, he leaned back, lacing both hands across his middle. “Howzzat?”
Having hung the handle of her parasol over the chair arm, she laid her pretty embroidered bag across one knee where her fingers could smooth the decorative design, as if for support. “Um. Well. I was wondering whether you might need—um—someone to help out.”
“Help out. You mean, wash the windows and scrub the floors?”
A look of horror crossed her face. “Manual labor?”
“Ahuh. What were you thinkin’ of?”
“Well—um—perhaps...here...in the office?”
“And just how would you do that?” He sighed. “C’mon, Miss Burton, spit it out. It’s almost the noon hour, and I take my meal times very seriously.”
Her hard swallow was not quite audible. The lout! Just as discourteous and uncouth as Hannah had claimed! “Keeping records, helping with patients, that sort of thing?”
“I pretty much do that on my own. Not much need for somebody else around.”
Irritated, Letitia drew herself up to her full height and glared at him. “Dr. Havers, I need employment. I need a salary. What about as a nurse, to assist you with your patients?”
Rumbling something that might have been laughter, Gabriel too pulled his lanky form straight and brushed back the rough auburn hair sadly in need of a trim. “Whatddya think, girl, that I’m independently wealthy? Not too often we get somebody havin’ to seek medical care; this place can barely support one sawbones, let alone somebody strivin’ to attain that exalted position. And as for nursin’ care, have you been trained for the job?”
“I had hoped you might provide that,” she said stubbornly.
Another burst of laughter. Unflattering, that a serious request was being taken so unseriously.
“Oh, ho. Pay you while you’re learnin’ the ropes, no less. I like your spunk, Miss Burton.”
Tilting her head slightly, she surveyed him with all the gentility she could muster. “Letitia. Since we’ll be working together, I give you permission to use my first name.”
“Oh, you do, do you? Well, same here, Missy. You may call me Doctor.”
“I believe I have been. Tell me, Doctor, when would you like for me to start working?”
Gabriel, shaking his head in awe (if not respect for her dogged perseverance), rolled his chair back and hauled himself upright. “C’mon, let’s head on over to the Sittin’ Eat—don’t worry, you’ll be my guest—and get some food, and we can talk over this proposition a little more.”
“That would be just fine, thank you,” said Letitia primly, gathering her things together.