My Home From Home (ManxMan)

Chapter 10

7 October 1920

Dear Diary,

One can't help but feel as though one has crossed through the looking glass. I've only been a few hours in this quaint little town and find myself in utter shock at every stage. Enough of a blasted shock for me to warrant writing a second diary entry within a twenty four hour period. I expected it to be worlds away from London or even Aldringham for that matter; but thus far Fir Creek has been managed to exceed even my expectations as to how starkly different it is. And to top it all off, the letter from Papa has truly managed to send my emotions into a tailspin of confusion. Perhaps it is the closure that I need to move forward in life, or perhaps in a way have reopened the metaphorical wounds that Papa's rejection left on me that I'd psychologically tended to so painstakingly.

To say the very least the surgery, or infirmary as they've called it, isn't quite what I'd expected; it is small yet one can't say it's under equipped. It has everything a country doctor would require; a fully stocked and organised dispensary, or a cabinet, rather,  filled with any sort of medicine and treatment one can imagine needing to treat in such a small mining community. At first it did shock me to think that surgical procedures and more modern treatments require a patient to be referred to Calgary, but I should think it's not too unlike how most of our lot go up to London for any sort of medical check-up. The letter I received from the Alberta Ministry of Health informed me that the job would mostly be based in the surgery with the occasional need to pay house visits to some patients should the need arise so I'm not terribly worried about the job being out of my scope of ability.

What I do feel a bit more restless about however, is a different situation altogether; the handsome Constable.

I know it's terribly ill advised to have such thoughts about a literal law enforcement figure whilst here, but I simply can't help it. He's perhaps the most beautiful man I'd ever seen in my life. His eyes are so deep and warm that I just want to seek refuge in them through the cold Canadian winters. His hair perfectly styled and a dark golden blond; his cheeks lightly tanned from hours riding on patrol in the prairie sun, no doubt.

All one's life one has had to rely on one's instinct to tell which men are like me; and if I could I'd bet a hefty sum on the fact that Constable Wilson was indeed one of 'our sort'. I've never seen such a handsome, tall, clearly muscular man who exudes confidence and heart throbbing masculinity be so vulnerable and bashful. Yet here I am feeling a fluttering within my chest every time he smiles and shows off those gorgeous dimples that make me melt like butter on a hot summer's morning.

Edward told me to be careful whilst in Canada, and I can't help but hear his voice in my head every time my heart and body tells me how handsome the young Constable is. Regardless of how utterly smitten I feel by his appearance and demeanour, I will however have to tread carefully henceforth. And one only prays that on is successful in doing thus.

I do rather like the house, though terribly unconventional, perhaps it is in a way more akin to me than one might realise. On the outside it's an older yet rather well maintained two-storey Victorian house, with electricity already added and some of the amenities updated; one truly can't complain about it. I haven't met anyone barring Thomas and his rather adorable little son, Danny; but from the beautiful view of the town from my bedroom window I can't help but see potential in this picturesque little town with it's clean fresh air and idyllic charm. From first glance I should think it'll do rather splendidly, as a home from home...

Love, Henry.

Henry put down his fountain pen and slipped a sheet of blotting paper over the freshly written page; resting his elbow on the mahogany bureau he let his gaze wander upward towards the glass windowpane before him. The view from his room was simply breathtaking; he could see past idyllic old buildings lined up along high street in the foreground, but it was what lay beyond the horizon that truly took Henry's breath away. Out in the distance he could see the plentiful plains of the Canadian Prairies dotted with some clusters of wooded areas each like a bouquet of colours; green from the evergreen firs and burning bright oranges, reds and yellows from the trees that would shed their leaves soon as winter knocked on the prairies' doorstep. Even further in the distance he could see the faintest outline of the Canadian Rockies' rugged, jagged peaks way out in the horizon.