“You might talk with John,” she said. “And I’ll try and rest. I have to spell Heather at the bedside. John badly needs someone to talk to.”
“I understand,” the little clergyman said, and he came inside.
John was still helping himself to whiskey as they joined him. He said, “No reading club tonight, Reverend.”
Reverend Miles said, “You’ve done well, John. Jock is now in the hands of God.”
John asked, “Join me in a drink?”
“Thank you,” the temperance-minded Reverend Miles said, and sat to take the offered drink. Joy left them discussing the vagaries of fate, the frailty of man, and the unseen hand of God. She knew that with the company of the clergyman, John would drink less.
It was the start of a tense waiting period when none of them knew whether Jock would live or die. And none of them dared think which might be best. They tried to continue their daily routines, but the strain on them was great.
Jock came out of his comatose state and at once went into a delirium. John fought to control the infection which had brought on the fever. Finally Jock calmed, and one morning opened his eyes. He stared at John and spoke his name. Heather and Joy came to the room, and were also recognized by the accident victim. Then John gave him a strong sedative, and the big man went back to sleep. He had yet to learn that his legs had been amputated.
John said, “He’s going to get well. I’m almost certain.”
“Yes, I think he is,” Joy agreed in a small voice.
John eyed her sternly. “I must be a doctor first and his friend second. I must somehow get him back to health and show him how to cope with what has happened to him.”
“Can you?”
“I don’t know.”
Joy went to the kitchen, leaving her doctor husband in his office. She heard the sound of sobbing through the partly open door of Heather’s room. She hurried to the girl and sat on the bed with her.
“It is going to be all right,” she said. “He will live. John feels sure that he will recover.”
Heather lifted a tear-stained face to her. “It’s not that I’m worried about, ma’am. It’s that he doesn’t know! What will happen when he knows?”
She found this hard to answer. At last she said, “I can only hope John will be able to make him realize his life was worth saving.”
“The doctor is a good man,” Heather said. “But it will be hard to make Jock understand.”
Joy was also deeply worried. She tried to recall cases where men who had suffered similar types of injury went on to lead useful lives. But the only examples which came to mind were those who had been wounded while fighting under Wellington. Many of them had been able to find desk jobs, or write or paint. None of these avenues were open for Jock.
So they lived with a new tension: how would the big man react when he learned he was crippled? By some kind miracle John was at the lumberman’s side when he first became aware of what had happened. His cry of despair could be heard through the cottage and tore at the hearts of Heather and Joy. Then, by John’s account, the big man lapsed into silent weeping.
It was then that John began the mental treatment which was as important to his patient as the skillful surgery.
Jock wept and said pitifully, “I’m finished! I’m but half a man!”
John countered with, “Bloody nonsense! If you were half a man you’d be cut clear down the middle. You’ve all your body except your lower legs which had to be removed to save your life.”
“I cannot work again,” the big man lamented. “I will not be able to earn my keep!”
“Listen,” John said, “I’ve talked with the blacksmith. He’s an excellent harness maker. He is going to make you leather shoes lined with lambs wool to fit over your stumps. With them, and suitable crutches, you’ll be able to make your way about as well as anyone. In the winter you can fit barrel staves on your shoes, like the runners of a sled. You’ll be able to coast more swiftly than any man can run.”
“Can I chop a tree? Operate a fishing boat?”
“Why not?” John said. “You must divert all the strength lost in your missing legs to your arms. You must make your upper body so strong you can learn to do almost anything.”
Jock looked somber. “Words are easy.”
“And actions are harder,” John said sternly. “And you have always been known as a man of action. Think about it!”
Joy felt this was the greatest victory of her husband’s medical career. From that hour on Jock began his recovery. Heather was always on hand to assist him in any way — a glow of happiness on her face.
John arranged for some of Jock’s friends to visit. He coached them in how to behave and what to say. And to their credit they worked hard to help in their jolly rough way. Their visits did the crippled man a great deal of good. Little Reverend Robin Miles also visited, and presented Jock with a copy of
Gulliver’s Travels
, which he had bought in Edinburgh.
The clergyman said, “I want you to have it, lad. It’s a bonny story and you’ll be amazed by it and find yourself laughing as you read it.”
“You’re a good man, Reverend,” Jock said, his broad face glowing with pleasure.
“We can discuss the book at one of our reading meetings,” the Reverend Robin Miles said.
Jock read the book and enjoyed it. His spirits improved, he was able to make mild jokes about his injury. The smith came and measured the stumps with Joy’s help, so he could begin work on the round, leather shoes.
The smith winked at him and promised, “Only the best leather and wool will go into them, lad. I’ll vouch they’ll outlast a dozen pair of ordinary shoes.”
“They’d better,” Jock said jovially. “Once I’m started I intend to keep on the move to make up for all this while in bed.”
All appeared to be going well, but there was one problem. Jock’s betrothed, Rose Stewart, had not come to visit him. As his confidence grew and he became impatient to get around, he began to worry.
He asked Joy, “Is it not time Rose showed herself? She must know I’m no longer in pain and wish to see her. The doctor says I’ll be able to work and earn. I have plans for Rose and me.”
She said, “Rose probably wants to give you plenty of time to recover.” Privately, she worried about other reasons.
“Do me a good turn and send for the lass,” Jock pleaded. “I want her to see how well I am. I don’t want her thinking of me as a poor cripple.”
Joy consulted her husband, “He’s asking for Rose.”
John looked concerned. “I guessed this would happen.”
“And?”
“I’m worried,” he said. “Jock is making a fine recovery. I’m afraid the attitude of that silly Rose may set him back.”
“Talk to her.”
“I’ll try,” he said with a sigh. “But she is so selfish and shallow, I doubt if I’ll be able to reach her.”
Heather had the same reaction when she heard the doctor would see Rose. She said, “It’ll do no good. She has no thought of marrying Jock now. She’s been going out regularly with that schoolmaster.”
“Then she cannot really love him,” Joy said bitterly. “He is a fine man. And despite his injury he will be able to earn a living, marry, and have a family.”
“Rose has been wanting an excuse to jilt him,” Heather warned. “She has never tried to send a message or a bit of food to him during his recovery. She’s only worried about giving back the ring. If she could keep it, her precious schoolmaster would be saved from buying another.”
Joy said, “She can’t be that bad!”
But Heather’s words turned out to be all too true. John went to see the girl and explained what she must do to bolster Jock’s spirits. Rose grudgingly promised to make the visit. John left with a warning that Jock was impatient to see her.
However, it was not Rose who came to the cottage that evening but Rose’s mother. She was a stout woman, with small, greedy eyes and graying hair. She made a grim figure in bonnet and tightly-corseted suit.
Joy let her in and asked, “Where is Rose?”
Mrs. Stewart glared at her. “She asked me to come. She’s a sensitive girl.”
Joy felt her anger rise. “And Jock is a sensitive man who has gone through a great deal. Rose is his betrothed and she has neglected him. He wants to see her not you.”
“This has been a bad shock for her.”
“But I hope she does plan to come.”
Mrs. Stewart hunched uneasily. “I expect she’ll see him one day. But she wanted me to come first.”
“Jock’s recovery could depend on her.”
The stout woman looked scornful. “How can you get back legs that have been chopped off?”
Joy made a sign for her to lower her voice and in a hushed tone replied, “You must not say such things! Jock will be able to manage with special shoes and crutches.”
“Support a wife and him with no legs!”
Joy made a quick decision. She told the woman. “I don’t think it wise to let you see him. Tell Rose we’ll be expecting her soon.”
“Rose wanted me to see him!”
Joy hesitated. “All right,” she said reluctantly. “But be careful what you say.”
She led the stout woman to Jock’s room. His face lost some of its bright glow when he saw his visitor was Mrs. Stewart. But with his usual good nature he said, “Good evening, Mrs. Stewart. It’s kind of you to come and see me. I was hoping Rose would come.”
“I know,” the woman said grimly, her eyes fixed on the spot in the bed where his stumps ended.
Jock went on, “I’ve done a lot of thinking about Rose. It would do me good to see her. To be able to talk with her.”
Mrs. Stewart repeated stolidly, “She asked me to come.”
Jock nodded. “I expect she has one of her headaches tonight. That’s what it is. Tell her I’m sorry and to be sure and come when she can.”
The stout woman hunched and then said, “Rose can’t bear the idea of you being the way you are! She’s going to wed the schoolmaster!” Then she rummaged in her pocket, and produced a small, velvet box. She hurled it on the bed. “There’s your precious ring back! We don’t owe you anything!” And with that the stout woman turned and stalked out of the room.
Joy stood caught between rage and sorrow. John was out and Heather was in her room, not wanting to be visible when Rose called. Joy made herself pick up the box and open it to study the small diamond ring inside. Then she placed it on Jock’s bedside table.
She said, “You’ll be wanting it for someone else.”
He looked at her in silent misery and then told her in a low voice, “You’re a kind woman, but there’ll be no one to ever want a cripple like me!”
“Don’t say that!”
“I’m disgusting. Like a fly without wings! I’ll crawl about and people will pity me!”
She was filled with pain for him, but tried to hide it. “None of the others who came visiting found you disgusting.”
“Pretense.”
“So you think Rose is the only honest one?”
“She couldn’t pretend,” he said. “Not when she knew I expected her to marry me. Make love to me!”
“In any case you didn’t hear it from Rose. Only from that ignorant old woman!”
“The message came from Rose.”
“Are you saying that I’ve been lying to you?”
“A gentle lie,” he said wearily. “The sort I might indulge in myself. But still a lie.”
“Jock!” She touched a hand to his shoulder.
“The doctor can tolerate me because he’s used to seeing invalids. So can you and Heather. But when I go outside it will be different. They’ll mock me behind my back!”
“Not unless you let them!” she said angrily. “Are you going to allow this silly girl destroy you?”
Jock said, “Perhaps she is a weak creature. But I loved her. She was my dream!” His voice choked and his eyes filled with tears. Then he shut his eyes and was silent. She left the room.
Heather shed indignant tears when she heard about what happened. John fell into a silent fury. Joy was distressed, the harm had been done. A knife had been plunged into Jock’s heart and he had lost the will to live. The fine progress he’d made was at an end. He gave up reading, and lay staring dully ahead. He spoke only when he was spoken to, although his replies were always polite and brief. And he refused to have any more visitors. His stumps were healed, and could be fitted to the shoes the smith had so painstakingly made. But he would not look at the shoes.
Joy told her husband, “Things cannot go on like this!”
Heather agreed, “He’s not eating. And he isn’t doing his arm exercises.”
John shrugged. “This is purely mental distress caused by the behaviour of Rose.”
Heather turned to Joy, “He has always been fond of you, ma’am. Perhaps if you continue to argue with him.”
Joy said, “He does like me. But he’s lost his trust in me just as he has in you two.”
John frowned. “I’m afraid he may have a complete mental breakdown. This brooding is serious. He could end up mad.”
“Can nothing be done?” Joy worried.
“Perhaps some of the men in Edinburgh might be able to help him,” her husband said. “When the mail stage arrives we might try to get him on it, and return to the city.”
“I doubt if he’d agree to go,” Joy warned.
John picked up his medical bag as he prepared to leave. “I must be honest and say I can think of nothing else to help him.”
Just when everyone was expecting spring, the Highlands had three heavy snowstorms in a row. Invermere looked like an enchanted, snow-laden fairyland. The great evergreens bowed with snow, and the villagers busied themselves with shoveling out of the storms. As a result, the mail stage did not arrive.
Late on Tuesday afternoon, John was called to one of the islands to attend a desperately ill young woman. As he left he told Joy, “Do not worry if I don’t return tonight. I’d rather stay on the island until morning than cross the Loch in the dark.”
So she was not surprised when night came and he had not returned. She had a light dinner, and Heather brought back Jock’s tray with the food hardly touched. Concerned, she went to see the big man.
He was propped against the pillows, and stared ahead in a depressed fashion. He barely glanced at her as she came to his bed.
She said, “The doctor is away on the island tonight. He had to see a young woman there who may be dying.”
Jock nodded. “A bad night, it is.”
Joy said, “It is. I’m glad he’s decided to stay there and come back in the morning.”