Vivid (7 page)

When he reentered the office, Magic was
seated in the chair behind his desk, and the doctor was drawing something on a
piece of paper. At his approach Magic looked up and said, "Pa, Dr.
Lancaster is real smart. She just showed me how to beat Wendell in marbles
tomorrow."

"Oh, really?"

"Yes, she said it's just a matter of
geometry."

Nate peered over his daughter's shoulder
at the diagram. He could see the small circles he assumed were marbles. A
series of angled lines and arrows had also been drawn, showing the paths the
marbles could take.

Nate looked over his daughter's head and
into the dark eyes of the doctor. "You play marbles, Doctor?"

"All my life."

"And you studied geometry?"

"Yes."

Before Nate could absorb that information,
Magic said to her father, "Dr. Lancaster wanted to know if we had a
hospital, I told her no."

Nate confirmed his daughter's statement,
adding, "We have to go to the hospital up in Kalamazoo."

"Have you ever considered building
one here? It wouldn't have to be a large facility."

"No," Nate replied, though he
found the idea intriguing.

"Well, after I complete this trial to
your satisfaction, maybe we can discuss it."

"You're awfully confident,
Lancaster."

"Part of my nature. Will you agree to
a discussion of the idea?"

"Finish the trial and we'll discuss
it."

Vivid was pleased he'd agreed without a
battle. "I'd like to see Dr. Miner's office if I may."

"He practiced out of the cabin you'll
be living in."

"He didn't have an office in
town?"

"No. When he first came to the Grove
in '56, the only building in this clearing was the old trading post that stood
where the general store is now."

Vivid thought about that a moment. Since
she was from a large city she had just assumed the doctor would be located in
town. "How large is his cabin?"

"Not very."

Does the cabin have any type of ward?''

"No."

Vivid knew that would never do. Even in a
town as slow paced as this one seemed to be, accidents and epidemics occurred.
There needed to be a place for her to house patients who might need extended
care or quarantine. "Where did Dr. Miner house his patients
overnight?" she asked.

"Sometimes on the small cot in the
front room, but he rarely had folks stay over."

"Then what did he do in an emergency,
say if three or four people were injured or ill at the same time?''

"If they weren't contagious we'd put
them up at our place. If they were, Doc treated them at home."

Vivid decided that would never do either;
the Graysons shouldn't have to house patients. "Is there a space in town I
might lease to use as an office?"

"There is the old seamstress shop.
She pulled up stakes last fall."

"May I see it?"

"Now?"

"The sooner I open for business, the
sooner I can see to the health of your people, Mr. Grayson."

He gestured her to the door and followed
her out.

Unbelievably, the day had gotten even more
humid. The thick air had a heaviness reminiscent of the fog back home in San
Francisco, except the Michigan air held not a degree of coolness. Vivid thought
she was going to melt.

Beside her, Nate could see she was
suffering from the heat. "You know, Doc, heat like this can make a person
sick."

"I'm fine." If she fainted from
the heat, he'd ship her home first thing tomorrow. Nate smiled knowingly.

The empty cabin that had once been a
seamstress shop stood only a short distance down the street from Nate's office.
Vivid didn't know if she wanted him to be so close by. She imagined daily
arguments and his peering over her shoulder all the time, but if this was the
only space available, it would have to do.

Nate extracted a ring of keys from his
shirt pocket and stuck one of the keys into the padlock fastened to the wooden
bolt on the front door. When he opened the door he went in first, followed by
Vivid and Magic.

It was like stepping into a furnace; the
hot air made it hard to breathe. The room was gloomy due to a lack of light,
and the single window frame had been boarded shut. Enough light entered through
the open front door and the cracks between the logs to show the dirt-packed
floor and the dimensions of the room.

Nate said, "The seamstress displayed
her goods out here and lived in one of the two small rooms in the back."

"Why did she leave?" Vivid
asked, waving away a pesky insect.

"Couldn't take the winter."

Vivid didn't rise to his bait. Instead,
she walked into the deep shadows, barely able to make out the interiors of the
two back rooms. She peered around in the dark, then rejoined Magic and her
father.

"It's in better shape than I
imagined," Nate said. "There's field mice in here somewhere." He
used his foot to indicate a small nest in the corner. "Won't take much to
clean it up, though."

Vivid asked, "Has the window ever
held glass?"

"Yes, but after the seamstress left
we put the pane in the window of the store. Didn't make sense to let the glass
go to waste."

Vivid doubted the glass would be returned
now, so she would order more. She also needed to have a proper floor installed.
After that, she would take care of the dozens of other necessary improvements
in time.

Nate waited, arms folded.

Vivid looked over at him standing in the
dim light and asked, "How much?"

He quoted a reasonable price, adding
"And I'll arrange for the cleaning."

Vivid looked around once more. "And
there's no other place available?"

"No."

"Then I will take it."

Nate ushered them out and relocked the
door. He turned to his daughter and said, "Magic, run over to the store
and bring back some pastries and something cool for the doctor to drink. Meet
us back at my office."

"Sure, Pa."

After a short repast of the pastries and
the sweetest, coldest water Vivid had ever drunk, she and Nate drew up the
papers for the lease. When everything had been signed, he suggested they leave
for the Grayson home. Vivid agreed. She wanted to inspect the house she would
be occupying. Although she'd vowed to be content with whatever the fates
bestowed. Vivid dearly hoped the living accommodations were in better condition
than the store she'd leased for her office.

T
he wagon bearing Vivid and the Graysons rattled along on the
pocked and rutted road. For a half hour, Magic sat between the two adults
trying to convince her father to build her a tree house. Vivid, sitting quietly
on the end of the seat, listened with a smile as Nate recited all the fatherly
reasons why a nine-year-old girl should not have such a place—safety
being his main concern. Vivid understood his anxiety, but since she herself had
had a tree house, she silently sided with Magic. However, she didn't offer any
opinions because she had no place in the discussion between father and
daughter, so instead she reviewed all that had happened. When she left
California, she'd imagined that coming to Michigan involved nothing more than a
simple introduction to Abigail Grayson and an immediate opening of a practice
in Grayson Grove. She'd not planned on Nate Grayson being the joker in the
deck. He impressed her as a stubborn, opinionated man, who'd become well
accustomed to having his own way. In all truth, she guessed he probably found
her cut from a similar cloth, but Vivid believed such traits were necessary for
females in a male-dominated world; in a man they were simply irritating.

Her musings were interrupted by the
constant bounce of the wagon against the unleveled road, lifting her up and
bringing her down. Hard. After enduring the transcontinental train ride and the
jolting two-hour ride to Grayson Grove, her backside was decidedly unhappy. She
would surely be unable to sit on anything for at least a month if this kept up
much longer. "How much farther?" she asked. "About a mile,"
Grayson answered.

While Magic continued to plead her case
for the tree house with all the fervor of a nine-year-old, Vivid returned her
attention to the view. Michigan was so unlike home. Here one could hear the
songs of birds, the wind whispering secrets from the endless stand of trees.
There were no mountains, but up ahead the land dipped and then rose. For as far
as she could see, there were trees, trees, and more trees. Here and there small
patches of cleared plots anchored by little houses and farms dotted the
landscape, but mostly the land exuded newness and raw vitality.

"Rain ahead, Pa," Magic pointed
out.

"I see it. Get the slickers. They're
in the bed."

While Magic climbed into the back of the
wagon with the quick agility inherent in most children, Vivid worriedly scanned
the dark clouds filling the sky ahead. The trees she'd viewed earlier as just
examples of pastoral beauty began to respond with a distinct restlessness. The
wind picked up and was now blowing against her face.

Once again in her seat, Magic handed a
patched and well-used slicker to her father and another to Vivid, who donned it
immediately while Magic shrugged into the last one, smiling. "I love
storms."

Vivid wondered if the child had suddenly
become delirious. Magic watched the road ahead with unbridled glee as she said,
"There was a real bad one last year. Took Widow Moss's pigpen all the way
to the river."

The first boom of thunder rumbled into
hearing. The trees were louder now, the tops bowing to the superior force of
the increasing winds. Vivid had been caught outside in a few showers back home,
but she doubted this would be anything near those mild affairs. The lightning
dancing ominously ahead didn't seem to dampen Magic's mood one bit.
"Count, Dr. Lancaster!"

Count? Vivid had no idea what the girl
meant, but she could see Magic's lips moving as she counted silently. Then she
heard a boom of thunder.

"Nine, Pa," Magic reported as
she sharp crackling died.

"Thanks, keep me posted."

Magic turned to Vivid. "It's how to
tell where the storm's going. You have to watch for the lightning. When you see
it flash, count until you hear the thunder. Then you watch again and count. If
the number is smaller than the first time, the storm is closer. If the number
gets bigger, it's moving away."

Vivid had never heard of such a thing.

"The SeePees taught it to Pa Grayson
when he first settled the Grove, and he taught it to Grandpa. Grandpa taught it
to my pa, and Pa taught it to me," Magic explained proudly.

"You counting or talking,
Majestic?" her father asked.

"Sorry, pa."

Vivid was about to ask who or what
SeePees were when the rain began: fat, wet pellets the size of dollars.
Vivid's hat, a fashionable confection on the streets of San Francisco, offered
no protection against the deluge of Michigan wind and water.

"Six, Pa!"

He nodded, then bent and kept one eye on
the reins as he reached beneath the seat to bring out two weather-beaten hats.
He wordlessly passed one to Magic and tossed the other onto Vivid's lap. She
hastily removed her hatpin and hat. The wind tried to take her lovely green
hat, but she fought off the gust and pinned the soggy felt between her knees
while she pulled on the other hat, grateful for its large size and wide brim.

The sky above had gone from slate-gray to
a tumultuous black in a matter of minutes. Rain blew across Vivid's face with a
strength that made it hard to see and breathe. She could only pray Grayson knew
where he and the horses were headed. The smaller trees were now prostrate in
obeisance and the older ones were bowing at the waist. The angry, deep bass
sound of thunder rumbled louder and louder.

"Four and a piece, Pa!"

"We'll hole up at the old Reynolds
place!" he shouted over another crack of thunder, loud as cannon fire.

How he found the small rut that led from
the main road to the burned-out hulk of the old Reynolds place, Vivid did not
know. She'd never been so grateful to see shelter. She and Magic scrambled down
quickly while Grayson unhitched the horses. Humans and animal sought refuge
within.

"Over here, Dr. Lancaster,"
Magic said, grabbing Vivid's hand. "Southeast corner, always."

Vivid went quietly, all the while
marveling. Did all Michigan people know about counting lightning and the safest
corner inside a house? When Magic sat down on the dirt floor, so did Vivid. She
had no idea if sitting was part of the drill, but sitting on something that
didn't bounce against her tender backside felt wonderful.

The storm did not qualify as wonderful.
Outside, the rain and wind screamed. Inside, the partially standing walls and
what remained of the roof cut some of the fury but not enough to keep them from
experiencing the wrath of the wind, the ground-shaking cracks of lightning
strikes, and the malevolent echoes of the accompanying thunder.