Before the devastating event that had stolen her childhood, Sylvia had been a good student. She had excelled in reading and writing and was close behind Albert in mathematics. Early motherhood had brought that to halt. She hardly even had time to read anymore.
Albert's fears that Sylvia would grow impatient with sign language were unfounded. Her uncertainty about the mention of surgery was quickly overshadowed by her eagerness to learn. In only two days she had all but mastered the alphabet and was moving on to words. By comparison Albert's normally nimble fingers felt slow and clumsy. In days, Sylvia was the one correcting him. Despite this it took quite a bit of convincing for her to agree to be Tommy's teacher. She knew she was impatient and didn't want to scare Tommy away from the idea.
As it was, Tommy showed very little interest for the first week or so. The look on his face told his mother plainly he thought the new motions and gestures were silly. Sylvia was inclined to be offended at this. After all, it was he she was doing this for. But Albert insisted on patience.
Between Hector's weekly checkups and the twice-weekly sign language lessons, Albert was seeing much more of Sylvia. It sometimes meant less sleep, but he didn't mind. His heart warmed in seeing how much Sylvia wanted to be able to hold conversations with her son. She did love Tommy. It seemed she just didn't know how to show it. Sylvia's mother had died when she was five years old. Mothering was something the young woman simply didn't know how to do.
Midway through the second week the sign language lessons seemed to take off. Albert made the suggestion that he and Sylvia try to hold a conversation without speaking. The challenge was accepted, as much out of an eagerness to learn as a slight competitive spirit.
Tommy saw the interaction between Albert and his mother...and was beginning to resent it. What was his friend doing ignoring him? He thought the doctor would help! The boy watched their hands move for half an hour before growing jealous and loudly slamming his palm on the table to get their attention.
Sylvia sighed unhappily. "Tommy..."
Albert held up his palm. "Just a minute. What's the matter, Tommy? Do you want to know what's going on?"
Tommy hesitated, glancing at his mother, then nodded.
Albert shrugged. "We're talking, Tommy. It's what we've been trying to show you. You can talk, too, using your hands. Do you want to try?"
The little boy chewed his lip and considered the proposition. For a long while he looked from his mother, to Albert, to Hector, who had fallen asleep reading his worn Bible. Finally he looked Albert in the eye and nodded.
Albert smiled and flipped through the book to find an easy word.
Sylvia frowned. "Shouldn't you start with the alphabet?"
"He doesn't know how to read or spell yet. It'll be easier to teach him simple words first," reasoned Albert. "A baby doesn't learn letters first."
"But half of the signs take two hands," protested Sylvia.
"We'll start simple...here." Albert came to the front of the book. "'Boy'. You're a boy, Tommy. It's like tipping your hat, see? 'Boy'." He showed Tommy the sign.
Tommy squinted at the book, then at Albert, then at his mother. After about a minute he hesitantly imitated Albert's sign.
The young doctor broke into a grin. "Right! 'Boy'! That's good, Tommy. How about this one; 'girl'." Albert made a thumbs-up sign and ran his thumb along his jawline. "See? Like tying bonnet strings. Your ma is a girl. Mrs Dawson is a girl. 'Girl'."
Tommy again glanced at the book before copying Albert. He went on to learn 'eat', 'yes', and 'no'. He practiced these words before growing bored and impatient. He wanted to make sentences. The child reached for the book and began flipping through it on his own.
Sylvia reached to stop him. "Tommy, no. That's rude."
Albert had to hide his delight. "Well, at least he wants to learn. Slow down, Tommy!" he laughed, putting his hand in the center of the book. "What are you looking for? What word do you want to learn?"
Tommy marched over to Sylvia and patted her shoulder, hurriedly going through his own gesture that represented his mother.
"Oh." Albert nodded, feeling foolish. Of course Tommy wanted to speak with his mother...and know what to call her. He flipped back to the beginning of the book and found the words he needed. "Here, Tommy. 'Mother'." Albert spread his fingers and tapped his thumb to his chin. "Or, 'ma'. It means the same thing."
Tommy learned the sign quickly, then peered back in the book. He ended up picking up fifteen signs before Albert called a halt to the lesson to avoid information overload. But the boy had what he wanted. Biting his lip, he turned to his mother. His hands were shaking as he signed to her.
Sylvia was astonished...and puzzled. "'Mother angry'? No, I'm not."
Tommy's lip wobbled as he nodded and signed it again. 'Mother angry. Boy sad. Boy eat. Mother angry. Grandfather sick. Mother give. Grandfather eat. Mother give. Grandfather sleep. Boy sad. Mother angry.' The words didn't make much sense taken one at a time, but the order Tommy put them in and the expression on his face made it clear what he was saying.
Sylvia's mouth hung open in shock even as her eyes misted. Her son's first words to her were negative. "What's he saying?"
Albert grimaced. All he saw was confirmation of what he had suspected for weeks. Tommy felt neglected. "He thinks...you care more about your father...than you do about him," he said slowly.
"What?" Sylvia asked, sharply turning to Tommy and reaching for him. "Tommy-"
Tommy cringed and ducked. His body language was obviously fearful.
Sylvia gasped in recognition. In the years after her mothers' death she had grown fearful of her father. For the first time she saw that fear reflected in the eyes of her son. There was also hurt...and sadness. All the sharp looks, the quick flashes of anger, the lack of caring...everything she had done to her son came back to her. She shrank back in horror. "I didn't even know...I had no idea...Tommy," she said, turning to him with tears in her eyes, "I'm sorry." She reached for him again, slower this time.
Tommy took a step back, still fearful.
The look in her son's eyes was like a knife in Sylvia's heart. She slid to her knees and edged up to him. "Tommy, I'm so sorry you think I've forgotten about you." She opened her arms for him. "Will you forgive me?"
Tommy lifted his head just a touch. He looked back at Albert, whose eyes were also suspiciously wet, and gave him a questioning look. It was only after the doctor had nodded that Tommy stepped forward and accepted the embrace he had been missing for so long.
When tears had been spent and Albert politely decided to excuse himself for the day, Tommy seemed relieved.
"Wait...Dr Ingalls?" called Sylvia just before the doctor left.
Albert paused to turn back to her. "Yes?"
The corners of Sylvia's mouth twitched as she looked at him. "Thank you."
Is she smiling at me? Albert had to quickly squash any ideas of rekindling romance, as much as it made his heart soar. Let it go. It's been over for years. Sylvia was giving him a look of gratitude and nothing more. Courteously Albert tipped his hat. "You're welcome. Don't just study when I'm around. Keep it up. You'll be holding conversations before you know it." He looked down at Tommy, smiled, and backed out the door. "Have a good evening."
It was a difficult thing to turn and walk back down the street, but still, Albert's heart was just a bit lighter. He knew complete reconciliation would not come overnight. At least this was a step in the right direction.
Tension between Albert and Sylvia seemed to ease almost exponentially after that. Every visit was a little easier than the last. Sylvia's beautiful smile began making appearances again. Trust was slowly returning...along with something else.
Much as Albert tried to stifle it, he found the old attraction of his youth returning. He knew Sylvia was softening and it made him all the more enamored of her. Watching her sign with Tommy brought more warm feelings than were strictly necessary. He found himself stealing glances at her and smiling. When caught, he always blushed and quickly turned away for a few minutes. Then he was back to staring again.
When at his office Albert always berated himself for these stolen moments. It wasn't as if Sylvia was showing any interest in him. Her attitude was changing in turn, but Albert didn't see or expect any kind of romance. Putting one patient ahead of another was asking for trouble. It wasn't as if Albert didn't have enough trouble already.
The vandalism on Hallowe'en was not an isolated incident. While there were no more broken windows, there was a constant stream of racial slurs painted on his walls and regular dirty looks thrown his way while he was out. Farley and his associates had even begun a small boycott of Albert's practice. Despite the man's long reach, it didn't get very far. Those who respected Albert as a doctor did not stop going to him for help, and those who didn't had hardly ever paid anyway. Of course the rejection of those few still hurt. Often did Albert end up speaking with Father Dougherty about his faith. Always Father Dougherty's advice was the same; to pray for his enemies, but not let his guard down. Farley could be dangerous if trifled with too long. It was high time the town held an election to bring in a good mayor and oust the overreaching miser.
One afternoon while Albert was examining Hector and Sylvia was outside teaching Tommy the signs for 'bucket', 'water', and 'help', among others, the elder Webb cleared his perpetually rough throat.
"You...you always spend this much time with your patients, Ingalls?" he asked.
The question caught Albert off guard. He lowered his stethoscope with a confused frown. "What do you mean, Mr Webb?"
Hector coughed and raised an eyebrow. "You're spendin' an awful lot of time over here. You got enough time for the rest of your patients?"
He thinks I'm giving him special treatment. Albert shrugged. "Well...there's never enough time for everything. A doctor's work is never done," he quipped with a slight smile. "And at the rate Farley is going, I might not have to worry about anyone else."
Hector didn't smile at the joke. "You know what I'm talkin' about, Ingalls. It's my Sylvia you been seein' more, not me."
Albert felt a blush of embarrassment creep up on his cheeks and he cringed, about to open his mouth to deny it. I haven't been that obvious, have I?"
Hector showed his palm. "Oh, don't say it ain't so. I seen it, clear as day. And don't go thinkin' I'm gonna come after you, either," he added, seeing the look of worry on Albert's face. "Not like I can do much, anyway." A slight look of amusement came and went.
Albert closed his eyes and sighed. "Mr Webb, I don't know what to say except I'm sorry. I was hoping it wasn't that obvious, but-" he shrugged helplessly.
Hector slowly shook his head. "I kinda wondered if it'd happen. Now I don't have a problem with it."
What did he say? Albert flinched and lifted his head in unabashed surprise. "You don't, sir?"
"No. You always been a kindly fella. Never seen it 'till recently, but it's true. You're both growed now...you got an education, your own place, and a good steady job," Hector pointed out.
"Th-thank you, sir," sputtered a wide-eyed Albert.
"Now if anything happens to me-"
"Don't say that, Mr. Webb."
Hector waved his hand dismissively. "It's happening, ain't it? When it does, I want you to promise me something."
Albert moistened his lips nervously. "Yes, sir?"
Hector looked down at his hands, blinking at some kind of moisture in his eyes. "I want you...I want you to look after my Sylvie. Make sure she's provided for...her and the boy."
The young doctor felt as if he had just been mowed down by Hector's request. Is he saying what he thinks I'm saying? It was hard to believe that a man who had once tried to kill him was now asking him to look after Sylvia. Albert probably should have been over the moon with joy. In truth he felt nothing but intimidation. "Mr Webb...there's nothing I'd like more than to do what you ask, but...to be honest, I don't know if Sylvia would let me."
Hector lifted his brows and crossed his lanky arms. "I ain't askin' you to marry her. I'm askin' you to take care of her for me."
Albert cleared his throat nervously. "I realize that, sir, but...I just don't think Sylvia would agree to it. She's awfully independent and...it doesn't look like she thinks much of me."
Hector nodded slowly. "She's been...bitter...for a few years. She's startin' to change her mind...a little...but you gotta give her time."
"I realize that," nodded Albert. "I don't want to push her."
Hector nodded back in satisfaction. "Good. Now will you promise me?"
Albert sighed. He felt as if he'd been drafted for a type of service he wanted to do, but was unprepared for. What else can I do? Finally the young man nodded. "I promise, Mr. Webb." An idea rose, and it was out before he could stifle it. "Would it...be all right if I took Sylvia to dinner Sunday evening?"
Hector's mouth twitched with slight amusement and he gave Albert a look of surprise. "You'll have to ask Sylvie about that."
As if on cue, the front door opened, and in walked Sylvia and Tommy, holding a bucket between them. "Papa? Did you call me?"
Hector turned pointedly to Albert and lifted his eyebrows. The ball was in his court. "Not me."
Me and my big mouth. Albert was unaccountably nervous as he cleared his throat and turned to Sylvia. "Ah...Sylvia, would you like a break from cooking sometime?" Oh, brother!
Sylvia knit her brows in confusion. "What? Are you offering to cook?" she asked with amusement.
Albert shook his head. "No. I'd like to take you to dinner."
The young woman's eyes widened and she sat down in shock at the sudden request. Her first instinct was to suspect an ulterior motive. Sylvia squinted at the young doctor and crossed her arms. "Why?"
"Like I said, I thought you might like a break from cooking one evening...that you might like to get out of the house," said Albert, hoping he didn't sound as nervous as he felt.
"What about Papa and Tommy?" Sylvia asked pointedly. "Tommy's never been to a restaurant before and Papa can't leave the house."
"I'm sure Mrs. Dawson wouldn't mind coming in for an evening."
Sylvia opened her mouth to protest and say she had to work, but that wasn't true. Sunday was the one day she had off. A small part of her was tempted to say yes. Albert was right; she did need a break from the constant caretaking of both her father and her son. Another part, something she was trying to ignore, wanted to spend more time with Albert without the concern of anything else to distract her. She wanted to find out why he had become a doctor, and why he had come to California to start his practice...and whether or not his constant presence held something else behind it. Now that she thought of it, Albert was just as handsome as he had been years before, and just as kind- stop it! she told herself. You can't trust him. "When?" she found herself asking.
Albert tried to keep the hope that Sylvia would say yes off his face. "Sunday evening...about five?"
Sylvia pressed her lips together. She wanted to say 'no'. "I'll think about it," she said instead, then wondered why.
Albert successfully wiped the coming grin off his face and nodded. "All right. Take your time." He stuffed his stethoscope back into his bag and rose to his feet. "I'll be going now. Take care of yourself, Hector. Tommy, keep up the good work with the signing. Sylvia...goodbye." With a tip of his hat, the doctor left.
Sylvia bided her time and waited until Friday to inform Albert that she had agreed to his request, and asked him not to take her anywhere fancy. Albert was a regular bundle of nerves all Sunday, right up until the point where he picked up Sylvia. She seemed to try acting nonchalant about the whole matter but her nerves were evident as well. Her posture was defensive and she said repeatedly that she didn't want to stay out too late.
The place for the evening's vittles was the hotel restaurant down the street from Albert's office; the only one in town that didn't include a saloon. It served simple, home-cooked meals and its patrons were mostly working class bachelors who couldn't cook but could afford to eat out every so often. It wasn't very busy, as most ate Sunday dinners with family. Less than half the tables were filled. Albert and Sylvia were seated with menus in minutes. Sylvia paled a little seeing the prices, but eventually ordered a plate of something called spaghetti. Albert had the same.
Conversation began very haltingly. With as much as the pair has been seeing each other, they had not engaged in a meaningful conversation since their youth. There were a lot of awkward pauses and clearing of throats before any real progress was made. Albert decided to start with as inauspicious a subject as possible; the weather. He asked about snow in particular and asked how likely it was they would get a white Christmas. The innocent question ended up with an unexpected but welcome side effect...it made Sylvia smile.
"Snow?" she scoffed. "Albert, this is California, not Minnesota or Iowa. The only blizzard you're likely to find here is in the mountains...unless someone opens a feather bed."
Albert chuckled at the image and was pleased to see Sylvia's smile widen. "I suppose you're right." He turned to look at his hands for a moment before continuing. "Why doesn't it snow here? It seems cold enough."
Sylvia shrugged. "I don't know." She played with her napkin. "How are your folks?"
This drew a wistful look from the young doctor. "The last I heard, they were all well."
Sylvia nodded slowly. The Ingalls had been one of the few merciful families in Walnut Grove when the scandal of her unwed pregnancy had been found out. "I'm glad. Do you hear from them often?"
Albert shrugged. "I try to send a letter at least once a month. They reply as soon as they're able."
Sylvia opened her mouth again, about to ask if Albert had mentioned meeting her again, but decided against it at the last minute.
The conversation continued. When the spaghetti arrived, neither found they were especially hungry. Both were more interested in talking. As the evening drew on Albert was pleased to see Sylvia smile every so often and even laugh once or twice. He found himself doing the same. For a moment he was transported back to Walnut Grove, before the tragedy...before the scandal...before their hearts had been broken by circumstance. It was surprising to find just how much they still had in common. What happened to us? wondered Albert sadly. Has that much really changed?
Dinner ended at just before eight, when Sylvia asked what time it was and hastened to her feet, saying she needed to let Mrs Dawson get home and put Tommy to bed. While disappointed at the abrupt end, Albert nodded, paid the bill, and escorted Sylvia outside.
No sooner had Albert and Sylvia turned down the first side street when too many figures to count leapt out from a dark alley and brought Albert to the ground with flying tackles from three sides. Before the young doctor had a chance to catch his breath he was being pummeled with three sets of fists...maybe more.
Sylvia screamed and turned to flee. Albert's cries of pain made her turn around in anguish. "Albert!" she shrieked, running up to the fray and pounding on the back of one of the men. A hard shove send her into the ground. "Stop it! Stop it!" She rose back to her feet and returned to hitting Albert's attackers as hard as she could.
The shadowy brutes ignored her. Albert fought as well as he could, sending a few well-aimed punches and kicks and connecting once in a while, but he was completely overpowered. "Sylvia! Run!"
Sylvia saw one of the men rise off Albert and come for her. She screamed and ran, but the man was faster and grabbed her arms. The young woman thrashed wildly, trying to get away.
Albert's foot connected with the nose of one of the attackers, who cried out and stumbled back. The other drew a knife and sliced a deep cut into Albert's right bicep.
The next instant another three men came running out of the shadows, shouting at the top of their lungs. Both Albert and Sylvia expected them to join the fight. What neither expected was for them to go after the attackers.
A balding, heavyset man in half a clergyman's habit threw a wicked right hook at the man who had restrained Sylvia, then hauled the next up by his shirt collar before giving him the same treatment. In the space of one minute, all three attackers were laid out flat on the dark, dusty road. Only then did the clergyman drop next to Albert and gently lift the young man's head.
"Albert, lad! Can ye hear me?"
Albert woozily lifted his head and peered one-eyed at his rescuer. He had recognized the voice instantly. "Fa...Father Dougherty...Sylvia..." Albert struggled to sit up, wincing all the while. "Where's Sylvia?"
Sylvia herself all but tiptoed up to her childhood friend. "I'm here. Oh, Albert...your arm!"
Albert coughed as Father Dougherty helped him sit up. "They had a...knife. Did they...hurt you?"
Sylvia shook her head. "No. But Albert, you need a doc-" She stopped and frowned. Albert was the town's only doctor.
Albert tried to smile, though his lip and nose were bloodied. "I can...take care of...myself," he winced.
Father Dougherty shook his head. "Ye be just fine...only we be doin' the doctorin'. Lads," he said, looking at his two helpers, "take them blighters to the Sheriff. He weren't listening before, but by Saint Mary, he will now! Can ye walk, Albert, lad?"
Albert nodded and let the priest and Sylvia help him rise to his feet. He didn't even glance at his attackers as he shuffled past them. While he hadn't recognized their voices, he knew exactly why they had gone after him and who they worked for.
Farley.
