Authors note: As with all of my stories, Faith & Love will begin with third person to set the scene, but will be written in first person for the remainder of the story. Thank you, enjoy.
Faith & Love
Chapter One: Second Chances
Ashland Wisconsin, 1921
On the outskirts of Ashland there was a funny old house surrounded by isolation. Everyone knew where it was, and why it was empty, and naturally, everyone was filled with an odd sense of apprehension about the dwelling, which prevented their prying eyes from looking. It was made of dark weatherboard, two-storey with a porch, and windows with boring, plain curtains. No one visited the abandoned house, and that suited everyone very well.
The house offered a contradiction, it promised privacy and seclusion, a haven far away from the curious eyes of small town folk, but in turn it's mystery came with gossip. For who on Earth would buy such an infamous unwanted house? Whoever it was, was a recluse, who could live through a few months of scrutiny, whoever it was, was a hermit, who preferred their own, or family's company, but nobody expected whomever it was to be the two men that bought it.
This was the first reason that the good people of Ashland talked about Doctor Cullen and his orphaned nephew Mister Masen.
The second reason became apparent upon first glance of either of their faces. If you swore to anyone who had ever seen them, that marble could not walk, they'd tell you are wrong, and then they'd say go to the hospital and see for yourself, because Doctor Cullen was made out of marble. However, truth be told, next to him the statue of David looked boring, the pauper standing next to a king, because this man was sculpted better than Michelangelo could have ever dreamed accomplishing, you see, Doctor Cullen was the work of God.
And upon a quick glance at young Mister Masen, conformation would hit like ten thousand blocks of gold, that marble really could walk and talk.
The third reason for the gossip, as unfair as it may be, was because the two were both bachelors. Never had anyone in the whole of Ashland possessed such inviting prospects. Young, good looking, intelligent, and with more money that one could dream of, Doctor Cullen and Mister Masen had found themselves a permanent home in the lustful eyes of almost all women in town.
But just out of Ashland, there was a quiet little place, which knew little of the young men's effects, and that is where, on one particularly cold night, a young woman happened upon a refuge.
It was almost sleeting when she arrived at the home for widowed women, her heart pounding rapidly in her chest. She was welcomed in with warm open arms, and no one asked her any questions. She was not a topic for idle gossip; she was merely another face in the crowd. A young schoolteacher, widowed by the war, expecting her first born that May. She was a pretty little thing, with big warm brown eyes and dimples that pinched at both of her cheeks, her brown hair had streaks of gold, which made it all seem a slight shade of caramel when the rare burst of sun broke through the ever present clouds to sprinkle her head with light.
So Christmas passed and the New Year came, people had settled with knowing that Doctor Cullen and Mister Masen owned the house no one liked, they were beautiful and out of reach, and then a little way out of town, a young mom-to-be, who taught English and Maths at the local primary school, kept her head down but her small hopes up. This was her shot at a brand new life, and somehow she knew, some people really did deserve second chances.
The Cliffs Above Lake Superior, 1921
"But alas that was not to be," a soft murmur of a small woman wafted through the wind, "Perhaps that would be fitting for a gravestone."
Lake Superior glistened in the odd light emitted from the clouds that blocked the moon.
"Or maybe she loved," she mused, "But no one loved her back, it's a tragedy but life is that."
Her eyes did not glisten with a single drop of saline water as she gazed upon the lake below.
"I suppose I know, I won't get a gravestone, nor a funeral, but I don't care. Oh, what am I doing?" she sighed, "I'm not picking out my own gravestone, I'm not the one who died. Why am I even talking out loud, there's nobody here, there never is."
She brushed a wayward lock of windblown hair and then tucked it back into place. "What is a fitting statement, to last forever, about my son? He died before he lived, he was taken too young, or perhaps angels don't belong bound to Earth."
She took a deep breath, and she tried her very best to shake away the numbness that had set inside of her heart. "Angels don't belong bound to Earth," she whispered, "Angles don't belong bound to Earth."
And it was not as though she planned it, but yes, she always knew, she'd never come back from her walk to the cliff, because there is a right and a wrong for everybody, and it was right for her to jump off of that cliff.
But it was wrong for her to believe she no longer could live.
Ashland General Hospital, 1921
"Heaven help you!"
"I'm a nurse, not a nun."
"Perhaps not, but you do rather look like one."
"Oh, don't be so prudish, it's the 1920's. People are allowed to say what they think and feel."
"But not things as indecent as that! Surely you can't think we'd approve!"
A young woman, and a little older one stood at the end of the corridor, they were round a bend from where he stood, and they spoke low enough for no curious ears to catch what they were gushing about. They didn't know, however, that the subject of their talk in hushed tones had no problems hearing words a mile away. So all of their efforts and their very best attempts at hiding their bold topic of talk were futile and pointless, for the good young doctor tried his very best not to listen, but their talk was so very loud to him.
The blond doctor who they pined over, glanced down at his charts, and realised he'd nowhere else to go, for he'd finished every duty on his list. Of course he could go to his office to write up the reports, but that entailed manoeuvring passed the gossiping women down the corridor and round the bend, and the thought of it was not at all delightful. So Doctor Cullen turned the other way, and walked back down the hall. Incidentally, in a twist of fate that would alter his life exceptionally despite his not knowing so, he found himself soon to be in the company of his colleague, Doctor Dawson.
"Dr. Cullen," the old man nodded in acknowledgment, his sad eyes not once looking at Doctor Cullen directly.
"Dr. Dawson," he offered up a small smile, "How are your patients?"
"Oh," Doctor Dawson murmured in surprise at what was a rare question from Doctor Cullen, "They are all well, I'm afraid I'm pressed for time. I must finish my rounds and then visit the new body in the morgue. A young woman, I'm told. It's always the young women and children that are the very worst sights to bear."
Doctor Cullen nodded, "I must agree. I do find myself with some spare time upon my hands, and if you would like, I could examine the body instead?"
A little of the lost light returned to Doctor Dawson's aging eyes as he eagerly accepted Doctor Cullen's offer. So the two men parted, each for the stairs, one going up to an ordinary day, and the other going down to a monumental change.
A.N. Reviews are most appreciated
