Between the Raindrops

Let Me Begin

Emelia reluctantly parted from Arthur that morning with an open heart and a list of flowers. Finally, he shared something of himself, of his less than idyllic past, only to breed more questions. Empathetic and instinctive, Emelia looked beyond a patient's description of their symptoms. She heard the weariness in Arthur's voice and saw the wounded, tightness around his hooded eyes. He seemed to know loss like the sharp edges of a knife and so Emelia held her curiosity in check and did not press for more.

And Emelia hoped, despite a nagging intuition that these wounds were indelible, that she would be properly equipped to mend him.

Feeling hungry, Emelia decided to go to the Silver Skillet; a slightly more welcoming establishment to ladies than the Saloon. She smelled the fresh ground coffee from the street, the fragrance of sizzling bacon and melting sugar and bread and her stomach rumbled. She entered the cafe with a smile on her face and spring in her step.

"Hello Doctor Griswold," Mrs. Davis called from her flotilla of ladies. The group of matrons commandeered a large centrally located table, gossiping over coffee and muffins. Their plumed hats a rival to those worn in New York.

Emelia smiled and dipped in a small curtsey. "Good day, Mrs. Davis. Ladies."

A little further in, Emelia spied Heidi McCourt and Elizabeth Thornton sharing a booth near an east facing window. They were closer to an age with her, though Elizabeth had recently married. They smiled when they saw her and waved her over.

"Good morning," Emelia said.

"Will you join us, Doctor," Mrs. Thornton asked. A friendly girl, even if a little sour looking, round faced and heavy in the chin. Her dark hair curled tightly, and her bangs flicking up, almost like little unfortunate horns.

Heidi seemed a perfect thing next to Elizabeth. Pale ivory and hair like fire with eyes a deep sparkling green. She smiled sweetly. "Yes, please join us, Emelia."

"I can't stay too long," Emelia warned, but she sat, not wanting to eat alone. She ordered coffee and a fried egg and biscuit. They made small talk, chatting about the weather and the new ferry to St. Denis and the Founder's Day celebrations.

"I can't wait," Elizabeth confided. "I'm hoping to convince Harold. It would be so nice to have a reason to buy a new dress."

"And get him away from the saloon," Heidi added, taking a prim sip of her coffee.

Elizabeth smiled tightly.

"So," she asked, addressing Emelia instead, "are you planning on attending the dance?"

"Dance?"

"The Spring Dance," Elizabeth explained. "Blackwater always has one the end of May."

"Oh, I do not know. Doctor Thompson usually leaves the late calls to me, so..." Emelia shrugged.

"Oh, but you have to go," Heidi said.

"I have nothing to wear and no one to go with."

"Oh, I'm sure you could find something," Elizabeth replied. "You seem to be doing much better."

"And word about town is you've been keeping company," Miss McCourt threw in.

"Keeping company?" Emelia said. Her mother and brother had maintained a vice-like grip on her social life. Mr. Sydney Talbot was only a few years older and pretty in the way a bird could be. Fine plumage and prim movements, just as she. In love with the sound of his own song. All their interaction taking place under watchful eyes within the confines of gilded cages. "No. Heidi, I've been so busy... I've written once to my mother and not at all to that man."