Of all the heavenly gifts that mortal men commend,
What trusty treasure in the world can countervail a
friend?
Nicholas Grimald
Chapter 8
Evelyn’s work at the hospital busied her hands continually. She removed bandages, redressed wounds, fed those who were unable to feed themselves, and aided in several operations. Every week patients’ families came to bring their loved ones home. She would sometimes stand by the entrance doors watching families and friends reunite. They would caress the marked hands of the hurt, kiss the rugged cheeks. They would fold them in their embrace and walk them toward freedom. Freedom to be loved, freedom to live. Every time she saw these rendezvous, she dreamed of seeing Carl again, of finding him by chance somewhere on a street. A pang of guilt berated her fortitude; for ever since she had returned to Richmond, she hadn’t endeavoured to find him. Yes, she had tried to search in Dartmouth, but there was still the whole side of Richmond needing to be scoured. All those precious moments when she had time to search, she would run away into the recess of her fears, the fear that she would never see him again, the fear that he had perhaps escaped to begin a new life without her. She couldn’t put it off any longer. She would renew her fervour.
“Evelyn, could you please fetch me a whole pile of bandages?” Nurse Jones said, breaking Evelyn’s meditative stance.
“Yes, Nurse Jones.”
Quite frankly, Evelyn enjoyed going to the linen closet to do some errand. The linen closets were one of the quieter spots in the hospital where she could go to satiate herself in the silence.
The other rooms were either for patients or the doctors’ own offices which, of course, she had never gone into. As she hummed a tune, footsteps approached.
“Ahem.”
She swirled around while trying to balance her load and was surprised to see Doctor MacCrae standing behind her. Most of the time, he avoided her like the plague.
“Yes, Doctor MacCrae?”
“I’m sorry to disturb you, Mrs. Richardson, as I see you’re busy. I don’t know how to quite say this. There…is a patient…no, not a patient…someone who stays here at the hospital, a permanent resident of sorts.”
“A permanent resident?” What was he talking about?
“Yes, a young boy named Clyde, Clyde Smith. I thought perhaps...” he stopped abruptly. His eyes grew wide then constricted as he wrinkled his forehead. Words would just not come out.
*Clyde Smith? Sounds familiar.*
“Yes?” She tried to goad him into speaking with as an encouraging tone as she could muster even though she was thoroughly confused.
“Perhaps you could find the time to give him some motherly care; he’s an orphan, and he has no known living relatives.”
“Should he not be reported to the committee responsible for finding homes for orphans?”
“Yes, he should. But you see, I cannot bring myself to do it. Please don’t speak of this to anyone else. I trust you. Now, will you do this for him?”
She was taken aback by his earnestness and sympathy. “Why do you trust me? You hardly know me.”
“I can’t answer that question.”
*You can’t or you won’t.*
Evelyn collected herself. “You’re very gracious to ask this request upon his behalf. I’ll find the time to see him.”
A roguish grin sneaked upon his lips. “Good, now I’ll leave you to your tasks, good day.”
What strange behaviour he was exuding! How did he know she would be near the linen closet? He must have asked Nurse Jones of her whereabouts. She shook her head to dispel the odd thoughts running amuck in her head.
She greeted Betsie at the entrance doors once she had concluded her shift. “Go on without me this evening, Betsie. I have one last person to see tonight before I go home.”
“All right.”
“Betsie, is there someone you would like to visit this evening while I’m busy?”
“Now that I’m thinking about it, yes, there is. Our very temporary neighbour has asked me to come to tea sometime when I wouldn’t be busy. She also wanted you to come along. I’ll let her know you’re indisposed for the evening.”
“Thank you. I’ll probably be home in an hour or so.”
Not knowing where Clyde was, Evelyn asked one of the passing nurses if she knew where Doctor MacCrae could be found.
“Oh, you can probably find him in his office.”
“Where is it?”
“ Do you know where the maternity ward is?”
“Yes, I do.”
“Go east of the main corridor on the second floor. At the end, turn left and then right at the first side corridor. If you go along there, you’ll find his office indicated with his name plate upon the door.”
“Thank you very much.”
She followed the nurse’s directions. After five minutes of searching for his office, she found it just where the nurse had said it would be. She smoothed down her uniform and knocked upon the door.
“Come in.”
She opened the door.
The office was furnished with a large maple desk at the centre of the room. The exquisite beading along the rim of the desk complimented the leather-bound books which rested upon it in domino fashion. To the right of the desk was a small plain table cradling a microscope. The walls were white; a pleasant lightness pervaded the room.
“Hello, Doctor MacCrae. I was wondering if you could bring me to Clyde, the young boy you were talking about today.”
He looked up from the botanical book he was reading. “Of course, I’ll lead the way.” As he was getting up, he noticed Evelyn was desirously eyeing the microscope. “Would you like to take a look at it?”
“Oh, I didn’t mean to...”
“It’s all right. Here, come.” He waved her over. He opened a drawer, lifted a box housing some slides, took one out, and slid it under the microscope. “Take a look.”
She approached the table cautiously, not knowing what to make of his generous offer. She centred her eye over the eyepiece, and what she saw took her breath away. The germ of a seed, designed for a special purpose. She remained spellbound for a few moments. “Thank you.” She looked up into his ruggedly handsome face. The broad planes gracing his profile were smooth. His hazel eyes leered Evelyn’s wavy brown hair and high-boned cheeks.
“May I ask you a question?” Her eyes darted around the room for something other at which to look.
“Of course.”
“Why is your office located in the maternity ward?”
“Yes, I know it must seem odd given my practice doesn’t usually include delivering babies. They did have another office for me to settle in when I first arrived at this hospital; however, in the end, it was given to another doctor who was higher on the seniority ladder than I was.”
“The inconvenience isn’t a bother to you?”
“No, there is less chance of my being disturbed for petty reasons. I enjoy the quiet and…being alone.”
Alone! Hardly a suitable position for a woman to be alone in a man’s company for too long. The room was hardly large enough to hold his desk: the close proximity of their persons was too close for her comfort. She stepped back, jabbing her lower back into the small table’s corner.
“Oh!” She rubbed it tenderly.
“Are you all right?”
“Yes,” she bit her lip. “Shall we?”
“Right, this way.”
He led her to the end of the same corridor, adjoining his office, to a room somewhat run down. A lean mattress hugged a large part of the north wall, and a single book lay upon a thin pillow.
A young boy sat upon the crude wooden floor, hugging his knees with his head bent, resting in between them. He seemed to be crying; but it couldn’t be. For there was no sobbing or even sniffling that could be heard.
“Good evening, Clyde.”
“Good evening, Doctor MacCrae.”
“A visitor has come to see you. Mrs. Richardson, this is Clyde. Clyde, Mrs. Richardson. She is one of the nurses at this institution.”
Evelyn approached him with her outstretched hand as he turned his eyes to meet hers. She drew her breath in sharply. “Clyde? Is that you?”
“Mrs. Richardson, you know him?” Doctor MacCrae asked, doubt coating his voice.
“We’ve met; haven’t we? Under very different circumstances…”
Clyde’s eyes shimmered.“I remember you. Would you like to sit with me?” He gestured toward his bed.
“Thank you.” She settled herself as best she could upon the mattress that hardly had any stuffing in it. It was as bad as sleeping on the floor.
Doctor MacCrae cleared his throat. “I’ll leave you two alone.”
Once the doctor had closed the door, Clyde turned his face toward Evelyn and smiled. Innocence enriched his already sweet visage. His sandy blond hair was long enough to cover a little of his ears.
She slowly covered his hand with hers. “I’m so glad to see you. Who knew we would ever meet again?”
“Yes, I’m still sorry for hurting your ankle.”
“Tush, don’t worry. Still…I can’t believe it. Tell me, how old are you, Clyde?”
“I’m eleven. But I’ll be twelve in three months, springtime. Spring always makes me feel as if…anything can happen. What’s your favourite season?”
“Summer used to be my favourite season. Now I don’t believe I have one anymore.”
“Why don’t you like summer anymore?”
“Well, summer used to be my favourite season because of all the memories I made with my husband. We would go to the park for picnics, and sometimes we would go fishing.”
“I love fishing!”
“Do you? Most young boys like to fish.”
“But you’re not a boy.”
“No, I’m not. When I was a young girl, I used to sneak out of the house and go fishing with the cook’s son. He was about my age. Although we were good friends, my mother didn’t approve.”
“Is he still a good friend of yours?”
“No, he died when I was fifteen.”
“I’m sorry. Did you still fish after he died?”
“No, I stopped. After I met my husband at seventeen years of age, he told me one of his favourite things to do was fishing. When he started courting me, we would fish together twice a week. Summer stopped being my favourite season when my husband left to go to the war in Europe.” She hugged her knees; her smile faded.
“I know I said I like springtime the best, but really every season is special. Springtime is when all the flowers and trees become green again. Summer is the time to play with my friends. Fall is when all the leaves change colours. And winter…it’s easy. Snow. I used to go skating, tobogganing, and I made snow angels with my parents.”
“What happened to your parents, Clyde?”
“My pa died from the blast. He was working at the sugar refinery near the docks that morning. My ma was crushed by the falling ceiling in our home.” A few tears coursed down his freckled cheeks.
Evelyn took out her handkerchief and handed it to him.
“Thank you.”
“It’s all right to cry.”
“I know. But I’m not terribly sad.”
“Really?”
He shook his head softly. “No. I mean, I miss them very much. But they’re in heaven; and one day, I’ll see them when I die.”
Heaven, the closest she had ever reached heaven was when she was blissfully married to Carl, when the whole world was moving in peace, before the war, before the explosion.
“You really think there is a Heaven?”
“Oh, I know there’s a Heaven. It says so right in there.” He pointed to the book on top of his pillow. Cracked and worn, the letters The Holy Bible were still visible.
Evelyn picked it up, cradling it in her hands. The book looked vaguely familiar.
Clyde continued. “Mr. Cox gave it to me. When he was here, I used to go visit him and talk with him. He was very kind.”
“You’ve met him? How is he?”
“You knew him, as well? Was he not a jolly old fellow? He got better. But then he had to leave. So this was his gift to me. He sometimes still visits me.”
“That is very kind of him. He’s a dear old man. How did you know him?” Evelyn cradled her face in her hands, eager to form the connection.
“We met in the halls. He was practicing his walking, and I was just observing people. I started talking to him; and from there on, we grew quite close.”
There was a long pause.
“Clyde, where were you during the explosion?”
“I was walking to school. The blast somehow threw me several hundred feet from where I had been. I had a broken leg. Two soldiers brought me here.”
“And your leg now?”
“It’s fine. I had a…uh, hairline fracture. I think that’s what the doctors said. May I ask you a question?”
“Yes.”
“Where’s your husband now?”
“I don’t know. He was working at the office of the Halifax Herald when the explosion happened. I haven’t seen him since. I’ve tried to look for him.”
“I hope you find him.”
“I do, as well.” She laid her hand upon his back. “I really should leave and go back home. Betsie, my friend, is probably waiting for me.”
“Will you be back to visit me?”
His eagerness accompanied with a smile and clasped hands made it impossible for her to say no.
“Yes, I will come as often as I’m able.” She rose from the bed and moved toward the door.
Before she opened the door, he had clasped onto her. She tousled his scruffy hair and gave him a peck on both cheeks. As she did so, roughly patched skin met her lips instead of downy baby skin.
The whole walk home, Clyde’s words filled her thoughts. What joy she had seen in his face! Where did it come from? He was unlike any other child she had ever come across. She wanted what he had. Peace, joy, love. She would find out his secret. And Carl, she had become lax in her search of him. She would start tomorrow after her shift to find him.
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