Life in the Glen returns to normal before I see Anne again. Though she still lingers in my waiting room every now and again, it's usually to visit with me rather than because she fears being home alone. Susan returns soon after the new year starts and sees a marked change, her own words telling me so when she stops by one afternoon while Anne is teaching.
"I don't know what happened while I was away but thank you," she says stoically, standing before my desk with her purse clutched in her hands. "That girl was the walking dead before I left but she's coming out of her shell more every day. She won't admit it but every time she mentions the time you spent together she gets a silly look on her face and she becomes a different person. It's quite the change, Doctor."
"I'm glad to hear that. I've enjoyed our reacquaintance too, if I must admit," I reply and lean back as the woman continues to watch me. Sensing that she's not done, I sit up and ask, "But there's more, isn't there?"
Susan nods and looks around us as though sure that another person is in the room. "I don't want to sound too protective but I feel like she won't mention anything if I don't speak up. There's a new man in town. He was at the Turners' party but we can't figure out who brought him or where he came from. Doctor Blythe, I know you don't want to get tangled up in this but I'm worried it could be them."
"Them?" I question before things start to click into place. Jerking to my feet I come around the desk and look closely at the woman, concern bubbling in my chest. "She never mentioned anything to me the night of the party - "
"No she wouldn't, would she?" Susan sighs, shifting on her feet under my scrutiny. "He didn't threaten her or anything. She just told me she had a feeling about him. I've never been one for paranoia but with everything she's said about her past and that man - that bastard - I feel like maybe overreaction isn't unhealthy in this case."
"What can you tell me, Susan? I know the family who held the party - is there a name or someone I can ask them about? In all confidence of course," I promise and Susan pulls a paper from her purse, handing it to me.
"She said his name was Thomas Hughes. He had a beard and black hair. Apparently he told her that he'd wished she was a redhead."
My face pales at that and I have to lean heavily against my desk, my fingers nearly crumpling the paper in my hand. "Word for word?"
"Word for word," Susan confirms tightly. I shake my head and swear under my breath.
"Thank you for coming to me. I'm going to talk to the Turner's and see if they know Mr Hughes. If anything else strange happens, will you find me? You have my number, right?" She nods and turns to leave, her feet pausing at the door as she looks back at me.
"If he comes for her, what do you suppose we do?" Susan asks clearly, her voice hard as she looks at me. The woman is prepared for battle, her posture tight and her shoulders squared.
"He's never taking her back, Susan. Not ever," I reply with certainty. Though I've no idea what I'll do to prevent it, I'm convinced without a doubt that Anne will never go back to that house so long as I'm alive.
Susan accepts that with a brisk nod and then steps out into the cool winter air, the gust of wind that hits me doing little to calm the heat of the anger that bubbles within me. I don't wait to close up the surgery and track down Michael at the bank, sitting in his office as he settles affairs with a customer at the desk.
Stewing in my chair, I shift uneasily until he steps into the room and closes the door, his brow furrowed. "What's bothering you, Blythe?"
"Thomas Hughes - do you know that name?" I ask plainly, straight to the point. Michael sits forward and scratches his neck, thinking.
"It sounds familiar but I don't know from where. Could be a case I handled here, or a news story I read somewhere. Why? What's got your back up?"
"There was a man at your party going by that name. I'm trying to track him down is all," I answer and return to my feet, buttoning up my jacket once more.
"I can ask Sarah tonight about him but I can't think of a reason why a stranger would be there. We didn't invite anyone we haven't already had over for dinner," he confirms. I nod and attempt a smile.
"It's okay. We still had a great time. I don't think I thanked you yet - so thank you."
"Our pleasure. You got her home alright? Were a gentleman?" He laughs as I shake my head in disbelief at his question.
"Of course I was. Pass my greetings onto the family - "
"You can pass them yourself next time you come over. And do us a favour, bring that girl of yours. I want to meet her properly before you propose to her."
"That isn't… Michael," I sigh and turn away from him, exasperated by his teasing but desperate to hide my telling blush.
"Have a good day, Doctor," he shouts as I step through the doors to the bank and head back down the street. I stop in the cafe and grab a tea, carrying it back to the surgery to continue working for the rest of the afternoon.
As the evening rolls in and the oil runs low in my lamps I pack up my things and head for home. I take my time getting there, trotting my horse along the edge of the treeline and taking in the beauty of the early sunset. When Anne's cottage comes into sight I slow and watch for a moment the light flickering in her windows, the curtains drawn tightly and shadows moving behind them. For the briefest of seconds I wish I were inside, warming myself by the firelight and listening to her and Susan moving through the kitchen together.
With a heavy sigh I urge my horse onward and go through the motions of turning him in and settling home for the night. The house is cold when I step through the front door, my mind following patterns when I gather up wood for the fireplace and set the place to start warming. These are the days when I wish for a housekeeper or someone to keep the hearthfires burning, the small pleasures of sharing the household duties with with someone else.
I spend the evening in front of the fire, wrapped in a blanket and turning over the possibilities that lay before me. Who Thomas Hughes is and whether when Anne said she wasn't ready yet if that meant someday or never. They were concepts too abstract to make any real progress on but I tried nonetheless. The state of things at the start of this year was both promising and discouraging. If there was a future for Anne and I, I wanted to start on it immediately. We were already aged well enough and we'd used up so much time…
"You must be patient," I grumble fitfully as I discard my dishes in the sink. I crawl into bed later with thoughts of how to proceed spinning on repeat. I couldn't just rush into this, I knew that much, but I also didn't want to let it slip through my fingers. Anne was brought back to me by fate and I wouldn't let our histories build walls. I loved her still and I couldn't let her go, not yet.
Shoving those thoughts aside I drift off to sleep with questions about Thomas in my head. Who I would ask and who would know where he'd come from or why he was here. This was the subject I needed to focus on, all other things would soon fall into place.
"I'd like you to stop asking about Mr Hughes," Anne says one day as she sits in one of the waiting room chairs, her eyes turned towards the windows and her posture relaxed. I perk up at this, watching her for a moment as she gazes out into the low light of the day.
"How did you know I was making inquiries?" I ask in return, setting my pen down to give her my full attention. She turns to me with a raised brow, patient as I squirm. "Fine - okay, I'll stop. But why? Aren't you curious about him?"
"I am. But it looks too suspicious for both of us to be asking the people of a small town about the history of one man. If they start asking questions in return... " She trails off and rests her chin in her hand, watching me.
"Then why don't you let me continue so you don't have to?" I offer gently and smile as she simply scowls back at me.
"This is my concern, Gilbert. I don't need you to - "
"I know," I interrupt, leaning back in my chair and crossing my arms over my chest. Her stubborn attitude reminds me of when she was just a girl arguing with me over coursework. "But I want to help you. And surely I know the people of the Glen better."
"That isn't the point. It's less assuming when a woman asks, especially a teacher. Everyone thinks we're just a curious sort who want to know everyone. It'll raise less attention if I do it. And besides, you won't know when to raise any flags because you've never dealt with this before," she finishes lowly, getting to her feet and brushing her hands down her skirts. She wears a pale grey today that matches her eyes, a red scarf hidden in her coat somewhere that had drawn my gaze to her rosy cheeks. She'd been beautiful when she'd come in from the frosty late January weather. I should have told her.
"Anne, I want to take this on for you. Won't you let me?" I say as I get to my feet, coming around the desk to join her. She hovers closer, looking up at me with a measured gaze that makes the blood rush to my head.
"I can handle it, I promise. Please stop," she asks with a sigh, her hand lifting to press against my chest gently. It steals the breath from my lungs and I know she can feel the way my heart skips at her touch. My hands reach up and wrap around hers, holding her touch to me for a moment longer.
"Anne-girl," I whisper in submission, relishing the feel of her fingers tightening in my shirt. "If you want me to stop, I will. But you must tell me if there's something that's bothering you. Promise me that," I request and close my eyes as her breath slides against my neck.
"I will. Thank you though, for being willing to listen. I don't think you understand how much it means to me," she adds. When I look down at her she's skirting her gaze between my eyes and my lips, her own breaths coming in quick bursts.
"Doctor Blythe!" The voice calls out as the bell over my door rings and Anne jumps away from me, stumbling back towards her coat and looking wide-eyed at the messenger boy who's just come into the surgery. "Miss Wright! Oh, I'm sorry to burst in here but it's the Murphy boy, he's got a fever and Mrs Murphy is not well enough yet and Mr Murphy is going mad with trying to handle them both!"
"I see - let me grab my bag and we'll head over there now, shall we?" I state calmly and turn to grab my things. In mere minutes I'm ready to leave and Anne looks at me with her hand about her lips, her eyes stricken. "Will you lock up for me once Susan returns to collect you?" I ask, holding out my keys towards her. She nods slowly, as though in a daze, and takes the keys in her hands. Giving her a gentle smile I brush my thumb over her knuckles and then turn towards the door, following the child out into the street as I head towards the Murphy residence.
I end up spending the night in their guestroom, a second pair of hands to Marcus Murphy who is nearly at wits end when I arrive. We sleep little but the situation eases as the sun eventually starts to rise, the baby's fever lowering to a more acceptable number with every hour of care. Beth Murphy is another case entirely, her own health still wavering more than a month after the birth of young Harris. I look in on her throughout the night, checking her vitals and offering words of comfort as she attempts to sit up but finds herself unable to break out of the daze she's in.
"What's wrong with her Doc?" Marcus questions when I eventually close the bedroom door to Beth's room, concern etching my features.
"I'm not quite sure. There isn't anything physically wrong, that I can see. But she's lethargic and withdrawn… I saw it a few times in the hospital and it was attributed to the trauma of the birth. The best thing to do in these cases is wait - continue to help her but understand that she may not be fully recovered for a while." I could see my words creating a shadow over Marcus' features, his worry becoming more pronounced as I continued. "It's alright though, don't worry, okay?" I attempt lamely, knowing there was nothing I could do to ease his burden. All I could do was continue to try to help as best I could.
"Thank you for coming up here again. I know - I understand you've got a life and this is mighty intrusive - "
"It's my job to help, Marcus. It isn't a problem at all for me to be here and help your family so please don't think that. Focus on Harris and Beth. Focus on helping them get better and that's how you can help me, alright?" He nods and gives my shoulder a squeeze before disappearing into his wife's room.
I return to the kitchen to brew a pot of tea before I leave, setting a place for Marcus and preparing a tray for Beth. When it's all ready I bid my farewells and head for home, walking slowly across the empty fields. I take my time as I go, exhaustion catching up with me a little more with every step.
When I finally come upon my small house with its darkened windows I pause and look at it's dreariness with a sigh. I long in that moment to be coming home to someone warm, to someone who would pull me into bed and tuck a blanket around us and spin soft stories of faraway places to lull me into sleep. I wish I were coming home to Anne, I realize as I move towards the front door slowly.
"An impossible dream," I murmur to myself before trudging up the steps of my porch. In my daze I nearly miss the small basket next to the door with the little napkin draped over it, a letter tucked into its side. With a smile and a look towards the direction of the schoolhouse I bring the basket inside with me and pull the paper loose.
Gil,
I hope you get these before the animals do. Thank you for hearing me today.
Yours, ACSCW
I look at where she's scribbled out indiscernible letters and smile, looking over her acronym with a small laugh. She didn't know how to sign it and clearly she was torn with what to write. My dear Anne was at a loss for words… The thought was sweeter than the jelly tarts that were tucked inside the small basket.
With my belly full and my heart thumping heavily in my chest, I crawl into my own bed with a hot water bottle and let myself drift into pleasant dreams of a world which could have been.