“As soon as you feel any new sensation, after the first few weeks of acclimation, of course, come for a new pair. I do new molds each time I design a new boot, but there’s no reason for you to be in pain like I suspect you’ve come to accept as your lot. These boots should last a solid year or two.”
Hazel nodded, a bit stunned and . . . excited? Was that what she felt? If this man could be believed, she would not feel the chronic ache in her hips and the twinge in her knee. She would have two pairs of shoes in soft leather. Did she dare believe it?
He poured some white powder from the bag into the bowl, added water from a ceramic jug, mixed, added a bit more powder, mixed again, then a bit more still. After a few minutes, he poured what looked like gray cake batter into three wooden trays already set on the floor but unnoticed by Hazel until now. As he worked, he asked her about her life and schooling, how she knew Duncan, what she thought of Ipswich. Such easy conversations were uncommon for her, but she felt herself relaxing into this man’s company.
When the mixture was ready, he moved the trays to the area beside the bench where her foot had rested all this time and moved one tray beneath her foot. He gave her an encouraging smile.
“All right, Mrs. Penhale, lower your foot into the mixture slowly . . . try to bring it straight down—there you go. Let’s rest it there a bit to make sure we get the impression. Good. Now lift it straight up, yep, just like that. Excellent. The second impression will be of the right side of your foot so the angle will be a bit awkward for a moment . . . Perfect. You are a quick study. Very good. Now, just one more from the left side.”
Dr. Randall was in the exam room with a patient who seemed to be suffering from a bad cough. Duncan could not hear the conversation, which was only right since one’s health was a personal matter, but he could hear the murmur of voices and could tell when they began to come closer to the door that divided the exam room from the waiting room.
In addition to these two front rooms, a surgical room was located at the back of the building. It was used for procedures like the removal of external growths or cleaning an infected wound. Duncan had not been into that room very often.
Dr. Randall was an oddly clean man. He used a chlorine solution to wipe down surfaces after treating a patient, and he was particularly attentive to the cleanliness of his surgical room, which more often involved bodily fluids. Dr. Randall believed that the bad air known to be the cause of all disease could be transferred from one patient to another through these bodily fluids. Because of this, he preferred to treat patients in his office rather than at a patient’s home, which could not be cleaned as easily.
Duncan had heard people whispering behind Dr. Randall’s back about his strange theories, but Duncan considered himself a man of scientific study and felt there might be some value to Dr. Randall’s beliefs. Dr. Randall himself claimed that he lost fewer women in childbirth and that fewer of his patients developed additional infections after being treated for the initial illnesses that had brought them to his care. Duncan thought that suggested better proof of his hypothesis than a layperson with no medical knowledge who could present no case study to the contrary.
The door to the exam room opened and a slightly bent man, one hand to his chest, proceeded Dr. Randall out of the office. “What if me wife won’t allow me the brandy?”
“You tell her that I recommended it. Make sure you strike the center of your chest three times after each swallow, however. This will help break the bad patches of air inside of your lungs so you can better expel it from your body. Spit anything you cough up into the fireplace and then take another swallow of brandy to ensure it is properly expelled.”
Dr. Randall caught Duncan’s eye and nodded, which Duncan returned. Hearing this instruction confirmed that Dr. Randall was a very good doctor. Duncan felt proud to be his associate.
“I’ll be glad to tell me wife I’m to have all the brandy I can drink.”
“Come see me next week if you haven’t seen improvement.”
The man shook Dr. Randall’s hand and exited the office. Dr. Randall turned his attention to Duncan but did not put out his hand to shake Duncan’s because he knew Duncan preferred to avoid physical contact when possible.
“Good day, Mr. Penhale. Congratulations on your marriage.”
“Thank you,” Duncan said, which is what Hazel had told him was all he should say when people asked him about their marriage. He was not, under any circumstances, to share that the marriage was only for the duration of one year or that its purpose was independent financial security for both of them.
“What brings you here today?” Dr. Randall said as he moved behind his wooden desk set on one side of the room. He raised his eyebrows. “Questions about, um, marital relations? Such things can be a bit tricky in the beginning.”
“I have no questions. Hazel has disallowed marital relations, so the knowledge from your excellent book is useless to me.”
“Oh, well, I am sorry to hear that.”
“Not as sorry as I, but I did agree to the terms, and I still find marriage an agreeable arrangement.”
“I am glad. Is there something else on you mind?”
“I was curious as to what new advances you have employed in your treatment of disease since we last talked. It has been several months since I was last able to visit.”
“Yes, I think you are right,” Dr. Randall said, standing and moving toward his exam room. He beckoned for Duncan to follow. “I do have some new literature you are welcome to read as well as a new device that allows me to more clearly hear a person’s heartbeat. Would you like me to show you how it works?”
“I would like that very much,” Duncan said.
Dr. Randall showed Duncan the device he called a stethoscope and let Duncan press one end of the tube against Dr. Randall’s chest and listen to his heart and his breathing before explaining why it worked and why its utilization was an improvement in medical science. Duncan found it all very fascinating, and they had a wonderful discussion about its uses. When they finished, Dr. Randall stood as though to usher Duncan from the room, but Duncan remained in the chair as he had completed only one of his purposes in coming to visit Dr. Randall.
“Is there anything else, Duncan?” Dr. Randall said. “I am expecting another patient in a few minutes.”
“I would like to hear your medical opinion on a situation I am having.”
“Does it have to do with Mrs. Penhale?”
“Yes.”
Dr. Randall returned to his own chair—the one padded in leather—and laced his fingers. “What is the situation?”
“You know that I do not like to be touched,” Duncan said. “And I do not typically like to touch other people.”