Hidden History (14 page)

“I’ll bet it’s a plum pit,” said Alice. “Clara’s tree was
loaded this year.”

“Uh-huh,”
said Mark as he began to stitch Daisy back up.

Soon he was finished and Alice went out to the living room to tell Clara the good news.

“Oh, you really are an angel, Alice. But where did you find the pig doctor?”

Alice laughed. “Actually, he’s a famous veterinarian who has treated exotic animals all over the world.”

Clara blinked. “And he came all the way here just to help my Daisy.”

Alice nodded.

“Glory be.”

Alice returned to the kitchen to clean up. Mark was still keeping an eye on the piglet’s recovery. Alice knew that recovery time was just as important as the actual surgery. Things like heart rate, blood pressure and breathing needed careful monitoring.

“She’s a cute little thing,” said Mark as he set aside his stethoscope.

Alice laughed as she gave the kitchen table one final wipe down. “Not everyone in this town would agree with you on that account.”

“That’s too bad. These little guys really do make excellent pets. They’re very intelligent and can be trained
to do just about anything.”

“But don’t they grow up to be enormous? Jane said they could weigh up to three hundred pounds as adults.”

“Not these little ones. This is a miniature Vietnamese potbellied pig.”

“A miniature?”

“Yes. See how tiny she is now? If she were a regular one she would already be weighing in at twenty-five pounds. But as a miniature, that’s about all Daisy will ever weigh when she’s full-grown. And she’ll only be about twelve to fifteen inches tall.”

“Really?” Alice paused with the sponge still in her hand. “Only twenty-five pounds. Why, lots of dogs are bigger than that. I’ll bet that Harry is even bigger than that.”

“Harry?”

“Viola Reed’s cat. He helps to manage the Nine Lives Bookstore.”

“Wow, that’s a good-sized cat.”

“But anyway, this means that people shouldn’t be picking on her.”

“Viola?”

Alice laughed. “No, Clara. Some folks in town have been giving her a hard time. Some even thought she was getting senile.”

“Because of her pig?”

“Because they didn’t like the idea of a giant hog walking
down the streets of Acorn Hill.”

“Most towns have ordinances against farm animals within the town limits.”

“According to the mayor, who is also my Aunt Ethel’s beau, we apparently do not.”

Mark started laughing now. “This town sounds more and more like something out of an old TV sitcom. Like
Mayberry RFD
, or maybe it was
Green Acres.
Didn’t they have a pig on that show?”

“I don’t know. I’ve never been much into TV.”

“Why should you? You’ve got enough entertainment in this town to keep you going for years.”

She smiled. “So, maybe now you can see why I wanted to come back here.”

He checked Daisy’s pulse again. “I can now. It wasn’t quite so obvious forty years ago.”

“Forty years?”
Alice shook her head. “That doesn’t even seem possible.”

He looked up at her. “You sure don’t look forty years older.”

She laughed and felt herself blushing. “Well, thank you, Doctor. You don’t either, but I suspect we’re both suffering from diminishing eyesight.”

“And your sense of humor has only improved over the years.”

“I suppose I used to be fairly serious.”

“And, as long as I’m handing out compliments, you were an excellent assistant in that surgery. You ever consider taking up animal medicine?”

She chuckled. “Now, wouldn’t that be something.”

Soon they were both satisfied that Daisy was making a perfectly good recovery. Mark wrote down some very specific instructions for Clara and promised to check on Daisy the following morning.

“Thank you for coming, Dr. Graves,” said Clara. “You’re a real answer to prayer.”

They did not speak much as he drove back to the inn, but Clara’s words played over and over in Alice’s mind—
“a real answer to prayer,”
“a
real answer to prayer.” Whose prayer?

Chapter Twelve

G
ood morning,” said Mark as Alice came downstairs to help Jane set up breakfast. “I’ve already been out to check on our patient, and she’s looking fit as a fiddle.”

“Oh, that’s such good news. I’m sure Clara is feeling relieved.”

“Yes, she insisted I take home some of her pickles.” Alice smiled as they walked into the dining room together. “They’re really quite good.”

“I felt just like James Herriot.”

Suddenly Alice realized that Mark was probably used to collecting some considerable sums for his medical expertise. “Uh, instead of billing Clara, since she lives on a very tight income, do you think you could just bill me instead?”

He firmly shook his head. “Are you kidding? Do you think I’d actually let you pay me for the fun we had last night?”

“That doesn’t sound very good,” said Mr. Parker as he closed the
Philadelphia Inquirer
with a loud snap. He scowled
up at the two of them as if they were teenagers caught sneaking a kiss on the front porch.

“Good morning, Mr. and Mrs. Parker,” said Alice in a formal voice.

“Good morning,” said Mrs. Parker with a smile. “We took your sister’s advice and drove up north yesterday and—”

“Wasted another perfectly good day, not to mention a full tank of gas,” said Mr. Parker. He looked toward the kitchen. “What does a guy have to do to get another cup of coffee around this place?”

Alice felt Mark’s eyes on her as she hurried toward the sideboard and picked up the nearly full carafe sitting on the hotplate just a few feet away from Mr. Parker. “Here you go,” she said as she refilled his cup.

“Oh,” said Mrs. Parker, “I didn’t even notice that sitting there. Anyway, as I was saying, we saw some nice fall color.”

“Ha,” grunted Mr. Parker. “We saw a couple of trees that were barely turning.”

“They came up here from South Carolina,” Alice explained to Mark, “in hopes of seeing some fall foliage.” Then she turned back to the Parkers. “I’m sorry, this is Dr. Mark Graves. He is a well-known veterinarian of exotic animals.”

“How interesting,” said Mrs. Parker.

“I think I’ll go give Jane a hand in the kitchen,” said Alice, eager to escape the Parkers.

Mark looked at her hopefully. “Mind if I join you?”

She smiled down at Mrs. Parker, then spoke in a conspiring tone. “Normally, we don’t allow guests in the kitchen, but Mark is like family.” Then she led him through the swinging doors, suppressing her laughter.

“Thank you,” he said quietly. “I don’t think I could’ve taken another word from that guy.”

Jane nodded as she rinsed a mixing bowl. “He’s been making me crazy all morning. First of all, they were already up when I came down here, just sitting in the dining room waiting to be fed.” She shook her head. “Good grief, it was six o’clock in the morning, and we make it clear that we begin serving breakfast at seven.”

Alice laughed. “Well, maybe they have big plans for the day.”

“I hope the plans are to leave and never come back.” Jane smiled at Mark. “So what’s the prognosis on Clara Horn’s pig?”

“She’s going to be just fine,” said Alice. “Mark had to operate last night and he did a brilliant job.”

“I figured it must’ve been something big,” Jane glanced curiously at Alice and turned back to her omelet, carefully laying in sliced vegetables, “since you guys got home so late.”

“Daisy had ingested a plum pit,” said Mark as he pointed to a plate of freshly made scones. “You mind?”

“Not at all. That’s what they’re for,” said Jane.

“Would you like some coffee or tea?” asked Alice.

“Coffee would be grand. Black.”

Alice poured him a big mug out of the fresh pot that Jane had just brewed and set it in front of him, along with a pot of homemade raspberry jam.

“Mmm
, a guy could get used to this.”

Jane glanced at Alice, lifting her brows.

“What can I do to help?” asked Alice.

“How about flipping those pancakes,” said Jane. “I think they’re ready.”

Soon Louise joined them, and, with the kitchen now crowded and breakfast in full swing, Mark made himself scarce—to Alice’s relief. Her respite was short-lived, however, since his exit signaled the start of Jane’s inquisition.

“So, tell us,” said Jane. “How did it go last night?”

“The surgery went perfectly.” Alice turned the last pancake over. “Mark is a great animal doctor.”

“I don’t mean
that,”
said Jane.

“So Clara’s pig is all right then?” asked Louise as she sliced up a cantaloupe.

“Yes. She was plugged up with a plum pit, poor thing.”

“Enough with the pig talk,” said Jane, clearly exasperated now. “I want to hear the
good
stuff.”

Alice looked at her younger sister with wide innocent eyes. “The
good stuff?
Whatever do you mean?”

Jane glared at her and then turned back to the omelet to layer in shredded cheese. “You know what I mean, Alice. How did it go with Mark?”

Alice pretended to look confused, but at the same time knew she was not much of an actress and would not be able to hold off her persistent sister for long. “It went fine with Mark.”

“Did you guys
talk?”

“Of course, we talked. Did you think I would just sit there like a dummy?”

Louise laughed. “That thought did cross
my
mind.”

“Thanks for the vote of confidence.” Alice began removing the pancakes from the griddle, carefully stacking them on the heavy platter that Jane had already warmed. “Shall I take these out now, Jane?” she asked.

“Yes, I’m done with the omelet. Looks like everything’s ready.”

The Fisks came down for breakfast, and the dining room was filled with cheerful chitchat. Clara Horn’s pig was the hot topic of the morning, although Mr. Parker thought it was all a bunch of nonsense. But he would.

“We always let our guests know that they are welcome to join us at church,” announced Louise. “The service starts at ten and lasts about an hour.”

“Casual dress is perfectly acceptable,” added Alice,
since she had come to notice that many of their guests did not bring outfits that they felt were suitable for church.

As it turned out, the Parkers and the Fisks checked out, and only Susan and Mark joined them for church, sitting with Alice and her sisters. Alice felt vaguely surprised by their attendance and found herself distracted from the message as she wondered what they would think about Pastor Kenneth’s sermon. She knew that Mark had not grown up in a religious family. In fact, she remembered how he had described his parents as “free thinkers who embraced scientific theories more readily than religion.” Indeed, the topic of religion was one of the major areas about which Mark and Alice could not find common ground.

“Did you like the sermon?” Louise asked no one in particular as they walked back to the inn.

“It was sort of interesting,” said Susan. “I’ve heard that Bible story before—I think when I was a child and went to church with my grandparents—but I guess I never really gave it much serious thought. Or else I thought it was really about seeds and growing things.”

“I know the parable is supposed to be about faith,” said Mark, “but I think it could also be applied to things like truth or knowledge. Those things won’t grow unless they are planted in fertile soil.”

“I never thought of that,” said Jane. “But that does make sense.”

“It does,” agreed Alice. “Although I think Jesus wanted us to consider it in regard to faith. If you think about it, faith is a much harder concept to understand than knowledge or truth.”

“You’re right about that,” said Mark as they reached the house. “It took me years to figure that out.”

Alice turned and looked at him in astonishment. “You mean you finally figured it out?”

He laughed. “Well, to be honest I’m not sure that I’ll ever
completely
figure it out. Let’s just say that I accept it as a part of my life now.”

“Yes,” said Susan in what seemed to be a mock-serious voice. “Mark became
religious
a few years back.”

“I don’t like to think of it as religious,” he said as they walked up the steps to the porch, “as much as having a relationship with God.”

Alice was amazed. “How did this happen?”

“Would anyone like some lemonade or tea?” offered Jane. “It’s so nice out here that I thought we might like to sit on the porch for a bit.” Orders were taken and Alice offered to help, but Louise told her to stay put.

“You can keep Susan and Mark company,” she said.

“So tell me how this happened,” said Alice after they were seated.

Mark leaned back in the wicker rocker, and in the same instant, Wendell hopped into his lap.

“That’s Wendell,” said Alice. “Do you mind?”

Mark smiled as he petted the purring cat. “Of course not. Did you forget that these guys are my buddies?”

Alice laughed. “Wendell must not know that about you yet. He can’t stand the veterinarian.”

“That’s probably because he experiences pain with each visit. That trains a lot of animals to hate going to the vet. It’s different in my work since I usually make house calls—or zoo calls.”