A hollow knock at my door drew my attention as I dropped one last jar into the boiling water with a plink. The smell of apples and cinnamon wafted through the kitchen and seemed to follow me to the door. I turned the knob and was surprised to see Harvey standing a little sheepishly on my porch. He pushed his glasses up with one hand and clutched his medical bag with the other.
"You didn't show up for your appointment today, Willa. I thought I would come and check on you," he stammered. I noticed he was a little red in the face. Probably from the walk over. It was getting a little chilly in the evenings now that autumn was in full force.
"Was that today?" I exclaimed, "I'm so sorry. You were probably waiting on me."
"No, No! It's okay. I just wanted to make sure your hand was healing. I was going to see if your stitches could come out today."
"Thank you for checking up on me. It's very kind of you." I hesitated out of a touch of embarrassment. My Grandfather's old farmhouse was ramshackle and dated, though I tried my best to clean it up in the several months since I moved to the Valley. It would be rude not to invite him in, I thought to myself. Might as well anyway, he did walk all this way. "Do you want to come in?"
Harvey graciously accepted my invitation and entered my small home. He glanced around quickly but his eyes settled on me. With a smile he said, "It smells great in here." but he was quickly back to business. "How is your hand feeling?"
I bade him over to the kitchen table. The chairs made a soft scratching noise as they scraped against the wooden floor and we seated ourselves on either side of the table. I unraveled the bandage wound around my palm and offered it to Harvey to examine, saying, "It doesn't hurt anymore, but it is starting to itch a little." He hemmed in acknowledgement. Gently, he took my hand and examined his suture work and the progression of healing; tilting my hand back and forth in the dim light of my kitchen.
"It looks like it's healing well, Willa. These stitches can come out." He stooped to open his bag, but the hot sizzle of water boiling over on the stove captured both of our attentions. I raced from my seat and grabbed the oven mitts to move the large canning pot off the hot element.
"Just a minute, Harvey. Let me get these cans out of here." He watched for a moment as I used the jar tongs to lift jars from the water and placed them upside down on the towel beside the stove. He started pulling items from his doctor's bag and asked, "What are you making?"
"I'm canning some applesauce for the Fair next week. I've been going at it all day."
"That sounds like hard work."
"Not really. It just takes a while to set it all up. Making the apple sauce, preparing the cans then letting them boil. It's a process!"
"Sounds like it." Harvey replied. He had pulled some small forceps and scissors out of his bag and had them on the table. With a scoot of my chair I was again seated across from him and held out my previously injured hand. Deftly, Harvey used the forceps to pull on the tails of each suture and cut the string below each knot.
I quietly watched him work as he removed each suture. Eight in total. We sat in silence momentarily once he was done until I said, "Thank you, Harvey."
"You're welcome, Willa."
We fell into silence once again. This time awkward in the way that two people who don't really know each other are when fate or circumstance thrusts them together. The ding! of the oven timer interrupted the pregnant pause.
"Oh, that's dinner," I said, "It's baked salmon and veggies. Do you want to stay? I have plenty if you want to."
Harvey seems to think my offer over briefly before replying, "I haven't eaten yet. That sounds lovely."
I stood to retrieve the pan from the oven. The blast of heat on my face as I opened the oven door tickled my skin and left me feeling warm. Harvey was putting his tools away in his bag while I dished us both a salmon filet and a heap of vegetables on the side. Feeling a little self conscious, I pulled a bottle of wine out of the kitchen pantry.
"I've got a bottle of strawberry wine that I racked this spring. I don't know if it's any good. I've never made wine before, but we could give it a try…." I trailed off making it more of a question rather than a statement.
"A Melonball Farm vintage, hmm?" Harvey chuckled at his own joke. "I would be honored to try your first bottle, however it ends up being."
Feeling reassured, I brought the food, bottle, and a corkscrew to the table for us. Harvey stood and took his plate and the bottle. I took a second trip to the kitchen drawers to retrieve wine glasses and silverware, and could hear the pop! of the cork. We settled in for dinner together.
Over the clinking of utensils on plates, we conversed. Topics turned from small talk to questioning that was a little more personal.
"Do you enjoy living here in Pelican Town?" Harvey asked.
"I do, actually. I wasn't sure what to expect when I moved here. I've always thought of myself as a 'city girl,' but all the work I've put in here on the farm… it's been wonderful."
"That sounds really nice." Harvey seemed a bit wistful with his reply. I probably shouldn't have as we hardly knew each other, but curiosity (and a bit of my wine) got the best of me and I asked, "Do you not enjoy being a doctor?"
"No, I do. It just… wasn't what I wanted to do when I was a kid. I always dreamed of being a pilot, flying to all sorts of destinations and seeing the world. Life just didn't work out for me in that way." Something spurred him to go on. "I was rejected from the flight school after my physical. My eyesight was too poor. I had always wanted to be a pilot. I didn't know what else to do after that. My dad said that I had the grades for medical school and offered to pay for my first year if I got in, so I went."
I hemmed in acknowledgement. "Well, I am glad that you did. Pelican Town is lucky to have you."
"I'm glad I went through with it, too. Taking care of the people here can be very fulfilling."
"Are you from the Valley?"
"No, no. I moved here after I finished my residency in Family Practice. I took over for a man who retired. I've been here ever since."
"Where did he go?"
"Somewhere warm, I think."
With dinner done, and the wine gone, the night seems to be ending. The grandfather clock in the corner chimed 9 o'clock and it only reinforced how late it was. 'I should head home. Thank you for dinner. It's been a while since I've had a good meal like that."
"You're welcome, Harvey. Walk home safe!"
