tidy.
“Reckon it’s all right if I open the curtains?” Ned asked. “I might slit Darrell’s throat shaving him in this gloom.”
Lilly opened the curtains. The room brightened.
The lather on Darrell’s face cracked around his crooked grin. “I feel like a new man this morning, Doc.”
“Stop talking, Darrell, else I’ll have to soap you up again,” Ned said, hanging the strop on a tack in the wall.
Lilly busied herself counting supplies and wiping down the counters with bleach water.
“I’ll do that, Doc,” Ned said, “soon’s as I get done beautifying Darrell here.” He nudged Darrell with his elbow. “Might take a right smart while to pretty this mug.”
“Don’t you have any toilet water?” Darrell said. “Good barbers always finish with a slap of good-smelling toilet water.”
“Well, Cuz, I reckon you’ll have to make do this morning,” Ned said.
Lilly enjoyed their banter. It reminded her of her brothers and sisters. Darrell had to be doing much better if he could participate in Ned’s teasing. It seemed her worry had been for naught. She recalled the words of her mentor, Dr. Coldiron. “Don’t get emotionally involved,” he counseled his students. “Fret and worry only get in the way of sound medical practice. Do what you can, do it well, and then let it go.”
Now all she had to do was put the wise professor’s saying into practice—easier said than done.
Chapter 6
It had been a long day, and it was nearing dusk before Lilly made her way up the winding mountain path. Her devotional time had gotten short shrift this morning, and she hoped to make up for it now. When she reached her favorite spot, she spread a shawl on which to sit. A profusion of common purple violets carpeted the ground around her, and just under the trees, a few trilliums still bloomed brightly red. Her daddy called trilliums wake-robins because their blossoms heralded the return of the orange-breasted birds in the spring.
From her seat, she picked a bunch of violets, winding one long stem round the others to make a posy. With the tiny bouquet in her lap, she opened her Bible to Psalms and began to read.
Sing aloud unto God our strength: make a joyful noise unto the God of Jacob. Take a psalm, and bring hither the timbrel, the pleasant harp with the psaltery. Blow up the trumpet—
“Hey! Hey, you,” someone blatted loud as the psalmist’s trumpet.
Sighing, Lilly turned to see who was disturbing her peace.
A flash of color caught her eye from the far side of a beech tree before a girl stepped out onto the trail several feet distant. Lilly guessed her to be fourteen years old. Tall and narrow as a boy, she had not yet developed a feminine figure. Her light-brown hair was plaited in two braids unadorned by ribbon. She wore a red-print feed-sack dress and over that an apron that tied at the neck but hung loose at the waist.
Lilly laid her Bible aside and stood. The posy tumbled to the ground. “Might you be looking for me?”
“Depends,” the girl said. “Are you that doctor lady?”
“Depends,” Lilly shot back. “Who’s asking?”
“Armina Eldridge’s asking, if ye need to know,” the girl said as she stepped closer.
“Pleased to meet you. I’m Dr. Corbett,” Lilly said. “What do you need of me, Armina?”
“I don’t need nothing,” the girl replied.
“Then why were you looking for me?”
Armina’s forehead knit into a frown. “’Cause you’re that doctor woman. Right?”
Lilly nodded. “Um, yes. That would be me.”
“Well then, listen here. I want to know how come you ain’t stopped by to see my aunt Orie. Old Doc never missed a Wednesday.”
“I’m sorry, Armina, but I don’t know anything about your aunt Orie.”
Armina’s light-colored eyes looked out from her freckled face with the sharpness of daggers. “That’s plain dumb. How can you not know of Orie Eldridge? Ever’body knows of her.”
“Is your aunt Orie ill?”
“Huh! You reckon Old Doc