Timeline - Anne's House of Dreams. Christmas Eve Dinner at the Moore's. Leslie and Dick are visiting relatives, but Owen is around. (I wanted a different day and location to not challenge canon.)
Special thanks to Mrs. VonTrapp for her beta work.
Chapter 41: Potion
"Gene, I'm so very sorry," Helen apologized once more.
"It's nothing to worry about," Eugene reassured as he pulled back the muslin covers. Helen sat down and allowed Eugene's help with removing her shoes. She braced herself straight with hands on his shoulders and tried not to look at the top of his head.
"I can't believe I got sick on you," Helen stated again as her insides rumbled. "Your poor coat."
"A natural reaction to the withdrawal." Dr. Felder flat-toned. A quick assessment of her eyes confirmed his suspicions. She could say it was her visions making her ill all she wanted. He knew better. It was the laudanum she was fond of taking. He had seen the symptoms before in other patients, but never administered treatment. To be honest, there really wasn't one, unless time could be measured out by the spoonful. "Just rest Helen, let the storm pass. And don't worry about it as I'm not a squeamish man."
His statement was accurate as it pertained to medicine. He was a general practitioner like Gilbert, as well as a specialist in the field of gynecology and obstetrics. He couldn't afford to be repulsed by vomit. Yet, his statement was a bit of a lie. He sometimes felt uncomfortable and this was one of those times. It had nothing to do with the gagging sound Helen had made or the slosh of liquid purging against his torso when he caught her on the stoop. His uneasiness had to do with the room he had entered. He knew it was currently Dora's sanctuary. He didn't need to see where she slept.
"You can't escape what the good Lord wants to show you," was something Rachel would say. Providence might be having its way in giving him access, but he'd maintain a professional demeanor. He was Dora's doctor after all.
Eugene scanned the tidy little room as his fingers loosened the laces of Helen's boots. His eyes spotted a familiar pile of papers with a glass of pencils acting as a weight. He silently chuckled as he recognized Dora's hobby. She had gladly shown him her talent. His memory of their little conversation made his presence in her room feel like less of a breach of privacy.
When the second shoe fell Helen pulled her legs up and lounged against her arms, her blue-black eyes wide with embarrassment. She opened her mouth to repeat her echoing concern.
"Stop saying you're sorry," he implored. He saw a pitcher of water and its matching cup on the vanity and fetched the vessel for the sake of his current patient. "I forgive you, Helen, even though there's nothing to forgive. It's normal."
She bowed her head forward and pressed her lips to the rim of the cup he offered, drinking slow and sure. He rubbed her back as she swallowed. The whole of their friendship expressed in that moment of kindness.
"Gene, I was confused, so very confused. This place, this house! Everything from the past lives once more through my eyes." She paused and watched her friend, Dr. Eugene Felder dig in his bag, pulling out what appeared to be a wrapped package which he set aside. "And, I can't believe I called you Jack!"
"Helen, you were clearly not in your right mind." He took the cup of water from her and set it on the bedside table. Helen leaned up against the headboard with Dora's pillow wedged behind her neck. "He had this house built you know, Jack did."
"Oh, I've heard this tale a couple of times." Eugene mimicked Gilbert's baritone and island clip, "Mr. Selwyn and his magic. The spell that rescued Persis Leigh from a watery grave." Dropping the vocal embellishments he finished, "Gilbert is dazzled by the fact that everyone knew that the old schoolmaster was a witch."
"I can't say I blame Bertie," Helen defended. "It's not fun to pretend you're something you're not."
"Like someone I know pretending she doesn't have a..."
"But, I understand now," Helen cut Eugene off as she indicated a scrap of paper at the foot of the bed. "The dory and the sad girl. I was inside the schoolmaster's head. He tricked her. Poor Margaret!"
Eugene fetched the crumpled page Helen reached for. Before giving it to her, he smoothed out the folds and recognized Dora's drawing. It was the seashore picture she had augmented for him with a pier and a dory. Now, the drawing was furthered changed with title and phrase.
"Margaret" was captioned at the bottom, along with "A woman for your woman, a ship for a ship."
"Jack sacrificed his friendship with his best mate, Captain Jim today, to save Persis Leigh's life." Helen's nose crinkled as she relayed the memory. "He rescued her from nautical disaster. He summoned the Four Winds, hopped in a boat, and rowed out into a storm where his ability amplified with the winds. He promised the Fates a fair trade."
Eugene studied the image until he felt his brow produce the vertical worry line. He straightened his glasses as he handed over the picture to Helen's stretched-out hand.
"A ship for a ship and a woman for a woman?" Eugene articulated. "He. . . uh, replaced them?"
"Um-hmm," Helen agreed. "Magically, it makes sense. You can't disrupt the balance of life and death without a counterweight. It's likely he tried for years to figure out how to make the substitution. Biding his time, waiting for the right girl, one on the cusp of marriage, like his woman had been. When the time was right he misled Margaret to believe she could save her betrothed the same way he had saved his. When Captain Jim was delayed for reasons unknown."
Eugene sighed and brought a hand to his eyes. "How could Margaret possibly do the same? Or, anyone for that matter?" The doctor applied reason and retorted, "That makes no sense to me, Helen. Don't you need to be a witch and have supernatural powers?"
"A spell like that? Yes, I would think so, but her love for Jim was strong too. You know, my grandmother used to say, 'love and magic are distant cousins', but still. It doesn't seem likely, unless. . ." Helen glanced up to the ceiling as if she was uncertain about her supposition. "She wasn't a witch, but maybe she had temporary powers." Helen then put Dora's picture aside and placed a hand over her abdomen, a gesture Eugene recognized in his profession. Pregnant women often touched the place where their offspring incubated.
"She was expecting his child?" Eugene dropped his jaw.
"She was a whore and wasn't as careful with him as she might have been. She knew what she was doing." Helen's face expressed disgust as if she tasted something bitter and unpalatable. The schoolmaster had groomed Margaret to think it was possible. The pregnancy had been deliberate. "John Selwyn was a wicked man."
As Helen declared the nefarious deeds of the former resident, the four winds groaned as if agreeing. The rustling air engulfed the little house before pushing against the Lombardy trees and left an eerie wake. Helen had found the truth of the sad girl.
*/*/*
"There you are!" Gilbert announced upon seeing Anne in the Moore's spacious kitchen. He marveled in the doorway, watching his wife hover over the bird. For the briefest of moments, he saw a glimpse of the pigtailed girl she used to be. She was still the proud Cuthbert creature that wouldn't give him the time of day and yet, she had grown into an intelligent woman with a spirited temperament that kept him on his toes. Gilbert wondered how'd he had managed it, win Anne Shirley's passionate heart.
He smiled back when Anne tossed him a questioning glance. She worried for their guests at the table without host or hostess.
"Owen's monopolizing the conversation with stories of his aunts," Gilbert explained as he moseyed up to the counter. "I'm sure I won't be missed."
"Well, it was nice of Owen to tell Davy and Dora that Prince Edward Island has a long tradition of people taking in orphans."
Gilbert nodded as he set down the teacup he had brought with him. "It was very nice of John and Persis Selwyn to adopt such young children from around Four Winds. The way Owen talks makes you think his Grandmother couldn't conceive easily after the first child."
The doctor in Gilbert puzzled over possible reasons for the medical mystery. There could be a number of things that might have happened to interfere with conception. And then, if Eugene was to be believed, infertility might be the man's error more often than not.
"Well, that can happen. It happened to your own mother." Anne said as she spooned fat drippings over the bird's brown skin. The grease made crackling sounds in the roasting pan. "Especially if there's no doctor nearby. A good doctor that is, like you or Gene."
"We shall have no medical calamities here. Do not worry my fair lady." Gilbert left the empty teacup on the counter and inched closer to his spouse, dropping a hand on her shoulder before leaning to give her a peck. "This doctor won't let anything happen to you. We're gonna have lots of babies, aren't we?"
"Babies?" Anne felt his lips smile against her own. She wanted nothing more but warned, "Gil, you're getting ahead of yourself. Let's just celebrate this one first and try not to tempt fate with our felicity.
"Now, why are you here and not at the table?" Anne turned and examined a small hutch where Leslie kept her larger dishes. Not waiting for Gilbert's reply, she asked herself, "If I were a serving tray, where would I be?"
"Captain Jim needs something for his cough. A potion, if you will." Gilbert scanned the stove for the teapot. Now that Anne had moved he could see it plain. "I was hoping to disguise it in a cup of tea."
"A potion?" Anne stopped searching and reviewed her husband. He was serious if a tad embarrassed by Anne's visual doubt.
Gilbert hypothesized, "I've never done this before, but there's no reason why it shouldn't work."
"You can make potions now? What do you do? Cast a spell over a boiling pot of entrails and eyes of newt?"
Gilbert shook his head. "No, it's just infusing magic into a vessel. There's no weird ingredients or an incantation to utter. Although, you could make something up if you like."
Anne shook her head recalling the three witches from Macbeth and their horrible poetry. "Shakespeare wrote such a scene once. Although, given how terrible the verses were, I think it's safe to say he knew nothing about magic."
"You once said he had power in his words. Isn't that why you claim him to be your favorite playwright?" Gilbert retorted with feigned shock and mild surprise. "Maybe Shakespeare himself was a witch, only his ability was pedestrian. Acceptable."
Anne smirked. There was an element of truth in Gil's suggestion. If Shakespeare's genius was supernatural, it would explain his mastery over the English language. "Maybe, but a real witch with magical powers is in front of me right now. Let's see you do this. I'm sure you'll be more elegant than the Macbeth trio."
Gilbert stared into the cup filled with a common beverage before lifting his trembling hand. He touched the brim with his pulsing finger and Anne heard the china clink against its saucer.
"Gil?" Anne gave him a sheepish query before peering into the cup. The brown liquid simmered not from heat but with healing power.
"It's the same principle, Anne. His cough is bad and although I could lay hands on Captain Jim, I don't want to draw attention."
Anne laughed at that comment. "Everyone here knows you're a witch though. We even announced we're having a baby-witch. I honestly don't think anyone would bat an eyelash if you healed him as you normally do."
"I don't want to embarrass Captain Jim." Gilbert retorted, "He wants to be a younger man that what he is. I can tell, he wants to impress Marilla."
"Marilla does find him intriguing, and so she should. She's never been off the island and he's traveled the world. But, I don't see Marilla succumbing too easily to his charms." Anne announced as she directed Gilbert to put the bird on the fancy plate. "His vernacular is terrible and I can't imagine Marilla putting up with that long term."
"I don't think they're interested in a long term relationship," Gilbert teased to Anne's horror. "And, they don't have to talk, you know."
"Oh, you are terrible! Just terrible Gilbert Blythe!"
"Looks good and smells delicious." Gilbert was apt to change the conversation. Now that the roasted goose was out of the pan, Anne pushed the remaining drippings through a strainer and started a gravy. He nestled up to her side as the liquid thickened. "You should be proud of yourself, Mrs. Blythe, for the excellent food you have made."
She shrugged off his compliment. "You can thank Dora for the goose. She was always so much better at cookery."
"No, it's you I want to thank." Gilbert wrapped an arm around her waist and let his hand fall to their unborn daughter in her first home. Anne squirmed from his affections, not because they were unsolicited but because they could be caught at any moment in their amorous exchange. He kissed the nape of Anne's neck.
Flustered, Anne reprimanded Gilbert with a head shake as she pushed his hand off her center. "No time for that now, Mr. Eager. We better get back."
Gilbert straightened his shirt and looked back to the main course. "Shall I bring the goose too?"
"Needs to rest," Anne advised as she held the door open. Gilbert passed through the door, carrying the tea he had made especially for Captain Jim.
*/*/*
"How's your head?" Dr. Eugene Felder asked as he stared into Helen's pupils, happy to see them contract and open as he tested them with lamplight. He couldn't leave her yet, not until he talked to her about her health.
"Be a dear and give me just one drop?" Helen requested as she glanced at his bag. "Gilbert took all of his bottles with him."
Eugene tried to be compassionate, knowing that it wasn't Helen that was asking, but a different sort of demon possessing her. "I don't think that's a good idea, Helen. I know that's Dr. Blair's go-to treatment, but it's not one I agree with. It's not safe. And, you're using his treatment far too much from what I've been told."
Helen's humor had been dampened for weeks, replaced by a chemical sheen of faux confidence. "Doped" they had called it in school. She was a prime candidate to develop an addiction. Her powers triggered sick-headaches which were then treated by medicinal powders and dangerous syrups.
He understood the temptation, how easy it was to reach for a potion. The best thing he ever did was give up his musical gifts. The music triggered his desire to drink. Now, if she could only stop her trigger.
"I can't turn off my powers," Helen lamented. Addressing Eugene's furrowed stare, she added. "You know that. They have always been that way. I wish you would stop thinking if only..."
Dr. Felder attempted to turn off his mind before she stumbled upon his guarded memories. The wine bottles lined up on window sills. The rings etched into the piano's wood. She was on the right track and he feared what else she might learn.
"But, even if I could, I don't think it would stop all my migraines, Gene. I would still need help of some sort." Helen surmised her paradox. "It's not realistic to conclude no powers no headaches. Yet," She heaved as she forced out her problem, "I do get nervous thinking about how many bottles and packets I go through."
"Which means you're aware that you rely on the drugs far too often." Eugene almost smiled as he said that. Helen didn't need convincing that she had an addiction. It was an important first step.
"It's what they're for, the medicine?" Deep down, she knew her request had little to do with the cranial pressure behind her eyes, but was a thinly veiled attempt to insulate her from the chaos her powers brought. "As I told Bertie, Four Winds Harbor pushes me to my supernatural limits. I wouldn't have asked if I didn't believe the laudanum would help me."
"No more laudanum, Helen. You can do it." Gene flashed an understanding smile and his hair shifted to the right.
If it weren't for the craving, she might have laughed with him as his hand went to his head to reposition some wayward fringe. Overall, she appreciated Eugene's sensitivity in denying her request. He didn't believe she was incapable or lazy, just unlucky.
Eugene dropped a hand on Helen's. He had to ask before leaving for the Moore's. "Will you tell me how much you take? What was Dr. Blair's advice?"
"It's supposed to be just a drop here and there. And only when my head hurts to the point I cannot bear it." Helen placed her other hand over his, returning honest concern with her trust. "I don't keep count anymore. Lately, I've needed the peace it brings. I live in turmoil, every day."
"It sounds like it's too much," Eugene tilted his head in an understanding manner. "Gilbert didn't give you any while you've been here?"
"Not so much as an offer. He did suggest I rest here. Away from the specter that protects Mrs. Moore's house."
Dr. Felder popped a curious eyebrow but pushed it back down. His surprise about the ghost be damned for the moment, he had more important things to discuss.
"Do me a favor and talk to Dr. Blair about alternative methods of managing your pain, please." Eugene removed his handkerchief from his breast pocket, wiping off some damp that built on his skin from their hand-holding. "I've heard glasses with dark lenses help."
"Gene, the medicine works!" Her only other choice was to endure the headache. She couldn't give up her treatment, could she? It was a long pause before her panic passed. She continued. "But you're not wrong, Dr. Felder. The headaches might be better than the cure. Long term that is."
"It's really too bad Gilbert cannot heal the brain and all its ailments." Gene cranked his neck as he loosened his collar with a finger. "Gilbert and I are trying to find a treatment for Mr. Moore as well."
"Bertie couldn't help me with this even if he could heal the brain," Helen caught Gene's clouded reaction and explained, "Blythe magic cannot be used to help me. We've learned that our powers might intertwine and mix, but only to benefit someone else, never ourselves. We are supposed to be benevolent, not selfish."
The information deepened Eugene's worry for Helen. He knew Gilbert couldn't heal himself, but he never thought his powers might be restricted from his Blythe relations.
"May I ask you something?" Helen quizzed as she watched a shadow overtake Gene's countenance.
"You just did."
"It's personal," Helen elaborated. Normally, when she sensed a strong emotion or thought from outside herself, she tried her best not to implore. Gene was different though. He cared about her abilities and found them as fascinating as Gilbert's. "I know it's not any of my business. Yet..."
"Yet, you're noticing something different about me?" Eugene straightened in his chair, trying to remain aloof to her cross. "Ask away my dear Helen. I don't want you lost at sea."
Helen allowed for a dramatic lull to build before smiling, "What's her name?"
Gene's pale blue eyes flickered, his chest inhaling and exhaling as if he received a jolt. "Sorry?"
"Gene, I don't need magical powers to know you've been lingering around Prince Edward Island far too long. You wouldn't do that for me when you…"
Gene waved a hand to encourage Helen to skip past that unfortunate moment when he had proposed to her. "What makes you think that there's a woman?"
"You're wearing a toupee for one. Toying with your appearance is part of the mating dance. Just ask any bird when he preens his feathers."
He answered in the verbal equivalent of testing a bath with a toe. "You're wrong. It's not a woman keeping me here. Unless you mean my late mother-in-law and her contested will."
"Not a woman?" Helen laughed now as she ridiculed him. "I didn't realize you were.."
He loudly added against her snickering, "It's not a man either."
"But there is someone you're interested in? I sense it."
Inhaling deeply Eugene said, "Helen, you imply a romance. Yes, maybe I'm preoccupied with an opportunity to pursue my love, bringing my research into practical application, but, I can also assure you, there is no romance in the wings. Not even the smallest hint. The young lady in question is far, far too young for me."
"Oh, Gene!" Helen disapproved as the girl in question flashed in his head like lightning. "It's Dora, isn't it? That's why you got the… the...thing!" She pointed to his head. "To look younger. Now, how's that for frankness?"
"Helen, your powers are mixing up fact with fiction. I didn't get the hairpiece for Miss Keith. I've thought about getting a toupee for years and years. As a temporary resident on P.E.I., I decided to give it a go."
"Well," Helen huffed, "As a professional in the appearance business, and as a woman, I think you're more attractive without it." Helen declared with authority. "It's a good thing you stopped here first before heading over to the Moore's. I can talk you out of wearing that… that… thing."
"It doesn't look that bad, does it?" Eugene questioned as he turned toward the vanity mirror to check his appearance. His wig was a tiny bit crooked and he palmed his head to move it.
"Wear it all you want in the States, but here, you don't need it. I promise."
The doctor searched Helen's eyes using the reflection of the glass. He had spent a few days working up the nerve to wear it, and now, he was just going to give in and not do so.
"Well, hopefully, I'll still have a job when I return to Baltimore. I was supposed to leave today from Kingsport, but I missed my ferry and now the harbor is frozen over. My train leaves at seven for New York City."
"Oh, Gene," Helen sniffed for him and he turned to face her. "I'm sure you can salvage it. You can't control the weather. It's a proper excuse."
"Don't worry about it, Helen. You have your own struggle right now. You'll tell me how it goes for you?"
"Yes, I will," Helen spoke as he picked up his bag to leave. "Look, Gene, I know it wasn't easy for you to say the things you told me, but you did it, Dr. Felder." Helen dragged out his title, emphasizing his license to make such calls. "I will act on your words based on your expertise. Please, repay the favor for me?"
Gene acquiesced and removed the hairpiece, stuffing it into his bag for safekeeping. "Well, if you can give up laudanum then I can give up this. Besides, if you're fussing over it, I can't imagine the reaction Rachel will have."
*/*/*
Once warmed up and with plenty of potion inside of him, Captain Jim kept the conversation going at his end of the table where he was sandwiched between matrons Cuthbert and Lynde.
"I know I shouldn't question a blessing so, but. . ." Anne leaned forward and tilted her head so her words would catch the good fellow's ears. Everyone else heard her too from her posture. "Captain Jim, where did you find such delicious fresh vegetables? I've never seen such a variety, even after harvest."
An affirmative rumble rippled from the head to the foot of the table. Everyone agreed with the Captain's gift. They had all taken samplings of winter kale, bell peppers, and chiles from the relish dish. Their palettes were treated with a taste of summer on an arctic-cold day.
Owen shushed Davy and Katherine to hear the benefactor's answer.
"Tware a gift from dare La Flor del Cosmos, she scoured the coast lookin' for port. She 'twas refused at Charlottetown on account of dare weather. Dare captain, he wanted to throw money at me, but I's says 'A bit of that Mexican produce yous gots in your cargo 'tis better than gold today'. Dats how I gots the crate. Those li'l peppas might be spicy tho'."
"Spicy?" Mrs. Lydne erupted. "Those things were grown by Satan himself!" Her face wrinkled up with disgust. "Demon fruit. That's what!"
They laughed at Rachel's reaction, thinking back to the moment she ingested her potent pepper. It wasn't every day that the legend of Mrs. Lynde's fiery tongue was true. Poor Rachel had drunk two full glasses in the aftermath. Water had dribbled out of the corners of her mouth and down her chin in her attempt to offset the sting.
Dora stood during the jovial interlude, tapping Anne's arm to let her know she was fetching the goose from the kitchen. Anne agreed that it was time for the final course with a bob of her chin.
"Are they really that bad?" Gilbert mused as he considered the jalapeno on his plate. Gilbert didn't know how something so small be so offensive.
"You should let those be," Rachel warned as Gilbert dropped the thumb-size vegetable into his mouth. "I imagine it's exactly like eating a bumblebee."
Anne could hear him break the morsel with his teeth. He denied his need to drink cold liquid and coughed to clear the tang out of his sinuses.
"Did you hear that?" Gilbert looked in the direction of the front door as his hacking waned. "Did someone knock?"
"I think I heard it too," Owen said as he dabbed his mouth with his napkin. Standing at the foot of the table, he decided to check. "I'll go and see. It might be someone needing your services, Dr. Blythe."
"So, what is your verdict, Gil?" Katherine asked, indicating the tray of Mexican produce. "Are they devil spawn, as Mrs. Lynde suggests?"
"No, no. They're not so bad, but, perhaps not something for the ladies." Just then he removed Anne's jalapeno from her plate and ate it.
"Hey, I wanted to try that!" She gave his hand a small, punishing whack. "You're incorrigible, Gil. Have I mentioned it before?"
Gilbert chuckled as he accepted Anne's correction. "Sorry, Anne. I'm just lookin' out for you." He used the moment to marvel at her family way. "Your stomach has been off lately. For good reason too, I might add."
Anne's temper flared, but before she could utter a single word, she was cut off by another voice, one that sat two chairs down from her.
"I'll try it!" Davy announced, eager to prove himself a man via digestion.
"We'll talk about this later," Anne whispered to her chortling spouse. She picked up the relish tray and handed it to Davy, stretching as much as she could to cover the vacant place settings.
As Davy received her passed dish, Anne calmed and rationalized that it wasn't Gilbert's chile theft that had sparked her ire. It was his constant, blatant pride. She felt like she didn't exist anymore. She would have to remind him once more that he wasn't the one pregnant and to stop smiling all the time.
"Yuck!" Davy spat into his napkin. "Why would anyone buy these things? I don't understand how there's a market for them."
Captain Jim chuckled as he pointed his fork in the direction of the young man, "Dare be hotter chiles, d'ya know that? Real Cuban food will warm yer blood."
Marilla tapped the sailor's hand, drawing back his interest. She was bewitched by her new friend's experiences, especially his culinary reports.
"I'll take your word on that one, James." Marilla mused as she renewed what was an old conversation between them. They had spent many hours discussing the flavors of Latin America. "I had no idea such spicy ingredients existed. I've been fighting bland food all my life. Now, you've added some heat to it."
The captain's face grew rosy as he returned Marilla's steady gaze. "Now, now, Miss Marilla. 'Tis a crime you'd been kept on the island yer whole life. A cryin' shame. Nothin' like a trip to lands exotic to season ya up."
Owen Ford returned and dramatically stood in the corridor. "We have another diner, Dr. and Mrs. Blythe. I said there was room and food aplenty." Owen put an arm up into the jamb, simultaneously bracing his lean and blocking the newcomer from view.
"Oh, did Helen come back?" Katherine piped up as she twisted away from the table.
"I've been accused of many things, but never of being Miss Blythe." A familiar voice resonated. Owen stepped aside and Dr. Eugene Felder turned the corner and entered. His answer soothed Miss Brooke's now anxious face. "Helen's resting comfortably and sends her regrets. She insisted I call without her."
Mrs. Lynde by now had turned away from the table too, mimicking Katherine's contorted torso. "Dr. Felder, Anne said you wouldn't be here."
"Missed my ferry." Eugene reported, "I have to wait for a thaw."
Gilbert was on his feet to point out the vacant spot between the twins on the other side of the table. Strictly speaking, Davy and Dora were to have sat next to each other, but with Helen over at the House of Dreams, Davy stole her place from across Katherine.
"Excuse me," Dora asserted as she tried to find passage into the dining room with roasted goose glistening on a heavy tray. To her left, Owen stood, and to her right, Gilbert was flanking. His unexpected motion caused her to veer into the path of… "Dr. Felder!"
Eugene looked behind and saw the blonde head of Dora Keith lower, her face plastered with the shock of losing her footing. He realized she was going to drop the goose and her eyes pleaded for help. Eugene put his hands over hers, securing both girl and entree from landing on the carpeted floor.
Her appreciation glowed back at him and caused his heart to skip.
"Oopsy daisy," Eugene smiled at her. He recognized a kindred spirit. He was normally the klutz but now was sure-footed and agile as he moved his hand to support the tray from underneath. "Let go and trust me," he implored.
The weight of the item transferred to his care and Dora's face heated from something more than embarrassment. She broke her connection to Dr. Felder's smile when Mrs. Lynde cleared her throat and soon discovered Gilbert looking at them with one eyebrow raised.
Dora cooly stepped away from what might have been a disastrous fall. She wondered about her clumsiness, but there were an awful lot of people to navigate around, with Owen, Dr. Felder and Gilbert surrounding her in the crowded little passageway from one room to the next.
Gilbert stepped aside as Eugene brought the goose and its orange sauce garnish to the head of the table, confidently placing it down for Gilbert to carve at his convenience.
to be continued