Chapter Ten

Take Me Back to Yesterday

Clara was back at the Smith household the next morning, a little disappointed that this visit was for work and not play. As she strolled up the front path, she pondered over the wonderful two days they'd spent together. The theater, and the walk by the river; not to mention the conversations that had brought them so much closer. The telegram last night had put a slight damper on things, as John had instantly become more serious afterward. But overall, it was simply the best time she'd had in a while.

But now it was Sunday, and playtime was over. John had lives to save at the hospital, and Bill had church service to attend with her governess. That was, of course, still Clara's job and purpose in being here at all.

She knocked in the usual playful manner, but the door opened to reveal a rather unplayful Dr. Smith. He was actually fully dressed and ready to leave this time, not hustling around like his usual self. His shirt, buttoned up all the way to his chin and pressed, made him look a little stuffier than he usually did. Clara hadn't realized how much joy she found in his wrinkled clothing and dishevelled hair.

"Good morning, Miss Oswald."

His voice was as polite as ever, but something about his stiff demeanor made her feel odd.

"Hello John," she said, as if to spite his proper, boring attitude.

He shut the door and picked up his medical bag in one swift motion.

"I will return at approximately four this afternoon. You are planning on bringing Bill to service at eleven, correct?"

Clara's eyebrows raised at the strangeness in his voice, so strict and matter-of-fact.

"Yes."

He nodded quickly, threatening his neck with whiplash.

"I must bid you farewell, then."

He went to open the door, but Clara rushed forward.

"Wait, John. Do you want to say goodbye to Bill before you leave?"

His muscles relaxed suddenly. He turned halfway toward her, and Clara saw a familiar glint in his eye. He was still in there, somewhere. The usual him. God only knew where he'd gone or why.

John smiled briefly, as forced a smile as the one he'd given in reaction to the telegram.

"I don't see any reason. I will see you both this evening."

He disappeared through the door before Clara could get another word in.

. . . . . . . .

Clara found Bill lying on the floor of the nursery drawing pictures. As soon as she walked in, the girl smiled broadly.

"Miss Clara!"

Bill threw her arms around her and Clara could only laugh.

"I only saw you last night."

"It feels like longer."

Clara let Bill hold onto her for as long as she wanted, and then watched her jump instantly back into her drawing. She sat beside her and looked at the picture, a river with a cameraman beside it.

"Is that us?" Clara asked, pointing to a few people standing in front of the camera.

Bill nodded in response, but kept on drawing quietly.

After another minute, Clara adjusted how she was seated and cleared her throat.

"Er, Bill? Did anything happen with your father last night? He seems...distant."

Bill paused in her sketch, and then shook her head.

"He's been acting strange all day," Bill said. "I don't think he slept at all last night."

Clara nodded, deep in thought.

"He's not himself today, is he?" She asked.

"No," Bill agreed.

Clara leaned back, trying to get comfortable on the floor.

"Don't you worry about it," she told the young girl. "I'll figure it out. Alright?"

Bill considered it for a moment, and then nodded.

"Good. Now, you better get dressed. Mass starts in an hour."

. . . . . . . . .

Mass dragged on, as did everything else they did that day. It was a true Sunday, filled with dread of what was to come but also boredom with what was currently had. They played with dolls, until the dolls' stories ended. And they drew pictures, until the walls were filled.

And then they sat and waited for John to get home. Clara couldn't tell if they were more excited or more curious at how he'd act, now that he'd had hours to work through whatever it was he was working through.

Bill turned to her as soon as they heard the front gate swing open, her small fingers twiddling in her lap. Clara smiled at how similar she was to John, in that respect and so many others.

"Miss? What if he's cross?"

"You're father is not cross with you. You behaved wonderfully all weekend."

"Then...why is he acting so strange?"

Clara sighed.

"Don't you worry about it. I'll try to find out, okay?"

Bill nodded. She and Clara shared a smile just as the door opened and John walked in.

"Hello," Clara said, getting to her feet. He gave her a smile, but again it looked almost like it pained him to do so. Clara felt a pang in her chest. Had she done something wrong? Or was there something he hadn't told her?

"Good evening, Clara. Bill."

He set down his bag and hung up his coat. Only when he sat and noticed Clara getting her things together did he speak again.

"Clara, may I speak with you for a moment?"

Somehow, his tone made it sound like she was in trouble at school. But his eyes seemed...soft. Almost sad. Clara sent Bill off to the nursery with an encouraging little smile and then sat in the chair opposite John.

He was twiddling his thumbs and avoiding her eyes.

"Clara...as you know, I received a telegram last night."

She leaned forward in her seat. She didn't know, now, if she wanted to know the contents of the telegram. John had certainly suffered for it.

"Yes," she said. "I remember."

"The doctor I am substituting is returning early. He was supposed to explore the continent for two more months, but the weather is apparently disagreeable to him. I am...I am to finish my service at the hospital on Tuesday."

He said it quickly, as if to spit out a poison. But it did not lessen the blow. Clara felt his words spin in her head, landing painfully somewhere in her chest and stomach.

"So soon?" She asked in a small voice.

John still hadn't looked up from the floor.

"Bill and I are to leave for our new appointment on Wednesday."

Clara stared at him for a long moment, but he still wouldn't dare meet her eyes. Hers were filling with tears.

"That's Christmas Eve," she said suddenly, as if that was what mattered.

"Yes. Unfortunately, a hospital in Wales requires my immediate service. Bill will be disappointed, I think, but she will learn in time that this was for the best."

Clara looked away from him. He was sounding like one of her usual clients now, all formalities and bringing up proper, respectable children. How had he - the real him - vanished so quickly? Where was the man who spent half a day's wage on a photograph and an eel pie?

"John…" Clara started, unsure what she wanted to say.

"I will make sure to pay you severance, and I will write a letter of recommendation for any job you wish to apply for in the future."

"That's not what matters," she said, with a harshness that surprised even herself. "John…"

"Clara, please; we have to be sensible. We can't always have the life that we want to have."

"I know."

With those two words, she gave him the sternest glare she could muster. He finally found her eye, and then looked away sheepishly. Clara swallowed, in hopes of banishing the anger from herself. But then she shook her head.

"Do whatever you wish; but do not call me insensible for wanting to be happy."

She grabbed her bag before he could respond, and had the door open to the blustery wind within a second of getting her coat on.

"Clara, please; don't make this harder than it has to be," John said. Finally he sounded a bit more like himself, voice breaking slightly.

Clara turned back, a few tears freezing to her cheeks.

"I'm not, John. That's you."

She disappeared into the December air without another glance.