A Soul Companion

Perched atop my soul

a single black crow

pokes and digs.

“Anger at oneself is a destructive thing.”

~ Qui-Gon Jinn, Star Wars Quotes

Book Review - The Girl in His Shadow by Audrey Blake

The cholera outbreak in London in 1827 was considered ended when, three months later, there was another outbreak. Dr. Croft, a noted physician, had made many calls to his patients. A last call to the Beady household found three people dead and one eight year old child still alive. The doctor picked her up, despite possible contamination, and took her home to his housekeeper, Mrs. Phipps. He was scolded roundly for bringing contamination to the house. They nursed little Eleanor Beady back to health.

Grisly, humorous, women’s issues and the state of health care in the late 1800s. Parented by Dr. Horace Croft, a brilliant and very distracted physician, and Mrs. Phipps, his stern housekeeper, Eleanor (Nora) grew up to assist Dr. Croft in his many experiments on cadavers. She learned surgical techniques, practicing on cadavers. She studied all the books and papers that she could lay her hands on. She learned to love the search for answers. Answers to the many questions about the workings human body. 

Dr. Croft had a professional enemy in one Dr. Vickery. They not only disagreed but they disliked each other intensely. Dr. Daniel Gibson, a young doctor, came to work and live with Dr. Croft taking very a cherished spot with the great man. Here the story also turns to the place of women in the 1840’s. Dr. Gibson disapproved of Nora and her work in the surgery and her lack of refinement. More than just socially unacceptable, some of the surgical work she did was illegal as she was not a licensed physician. London’s Royal College did not admit women. The nature of her work wth Dr. Croft had to be kept secret, especially from Dr. Vickery. Dr. Harry Trimble, a friend and colleague of Dr. Gibson’s became a wild card in this scenario of learning, medicine, deception and romance. 

Eleanor (Nora) had only one year of finishing school. Her socialization involved taking care of patients and keeping Dr. Croft’s surgery spotlessly clean. Rather than embroidery, her stitches were sutures. As the story progresses, Nora’s status as an illegal practitioner of medicine - and a woman at that! - is finally exposed. It was then that Nora actually stood up for herself. The results were….. to tell you more would not be fair. 

Well researched, the novel included the names of famous women of medicine and nursing. I loved this book, it’s a keeper! Good character development - I liked them all, except of course, Dr. Vickery who was just not likeable. The end left me wanting more. Gladly there is a sequel in the offing, but no publishing date as yet. 

“Ears ringing, Nora rose to her feet, her voice floundering 

under a wave of noise from the crowd.”

~ Nora, The Girl in His Shadow

Title: The Girl in His Shadow

Author: Audrey Blake (creative alter-ego of Jaima Fixen and Regina Sirois)

Copyright: 2021 by Jaima Fixen and Regina Sirois (co-authors)

Publisher: Sourcebooks Landmark. An imprint of Sourcebooks

Type: Novel

Format: Paperback

ISBN: 9781728228723

ISBN: 9781980091479 (audiobook)

Ebook: 9781728228730

The Art of Anger

Reason and anger

There seems no connection

If anger simmers deep and long

The reason lost in time.

The shape molded each day

Expression sculpted with wisdom.

Explosions of anger

In wisdom's frame

Reveals purpose.

“Anger is a valid emotion. It’s only bad when it takes control 

and makes you do things you don’t want to do.”

~ Ellen Hopkins, Fallout

Chapter Two, Episode Seventy-Five - Long Road Back - Situationally Theirs

Long Road Back

Snow had dumped on the little town of Innocence for three days. Thomas Digby had been out every day, clearing the walk to his front door. His neighbours cleared across the front. Town bylaws stated that residents had to keep sidewalks clear in the front of their properties. Even though it was town property! There were days when he continued on to meet up with George Harwell from next door. The air punctuated with frozen puffs, they leaned on their shovels, complained about the snow, city bylaws, decided on the politics of the day and talked about the seed catalogues that would be arriving. Their wives called it 'hot air', minimizing their serious discussions about what really mattered. But they laughed and threw their wives’ chatter at their hen parties back at them. Returning to his front porch, he leaned his old red shovel up against the wall where he kept it, ready for the next snow fall. “I’m getting too old for this. James really was the smart one. Staying on the Island where snow comes and goes before there’s enough to shovel.” The aroma of fresh coffee greeting him when he opened the front door. “Sonja! Anything to eat with that coffee?” 

From the back of the house came “Don’t know, Thomas. You’ll have to look and see what’s left in our cupboards. When are you going to pack?”  Multicoloured toque with earflaps and ridiculous looking pompom thrown aside, he took his heavy gloves and big parka off. Hanging the parka up, the gloves went the way of his toque. Muttering he said “If that toque hadn’t been made by George’s granddaughter…………” Following his wife’s directions, he headed to the kitchen, got out two mugs and began a hunt for something to snack on. Cupboard doors opening and closing, he finally found a half empty box of stale cookies. “Good thing we’re going out for supper tonight.” More muttering.

“Thom, are you sure the roads will be ok in the morning? It’s pretty piled up out there.” Sonja had never been all that thrilled about winter travel unless it was in a snowmobile and only about ten miles out of town. Coming back to hot drinks and a warm fire with two other couples for a cosy, fun evening was much better. But…Thom needed to see his brother again, his home again. And he promised much warmer weather and maybe even snowdrops and daffodils poking their heads out of the ground. 

~~~~~

Weeks before, James awoke still thinking of Thom’s letters. Martha, already up, had left him to sleep. He could hear her in the kitchen rattling around getting their breakfast ready. He had up on the edge of the bed, elbows on his knees and rubbed his face, daring his eyes to open. It had been a late night, but he faintly remember the ping of his laptop. Or had he just imagined it. Wishful thinking he and his brother still had their …..what did they call it……. ‘brain lines’? Martha had put his plaid housecoat at the end of the bed, his slippers on the floor. “Such a sweet woman.” He  shook his head. “Why did I wait so long to marry her?” Hands on his knees, he pushed himself up, shaking off the call of the warm blankets. Housecoat on, he tidied his hair, slipped on his slippers went into the hall. “You up, James? Your tea’s ready and the porridge is just about done.”

“I’ll be right there, dear. I just have to check something in the office.” The next thing Martha heard was her name being called. “Oh, my goodness! James are you all right? I’m coming right away!” She had been stirring the porridge when he called. Flipping off the switch, she pushed the pot off the burner and at a run she went to her husband. “James! James! Are you all right?……….James?” There he was, his computer opened to his email. “Here, Martha, read this. It’s from Thomas. They’re coming….he and his wife Sonja!” Turning to his wife, his face as excited as she’d seen him since their wedding day, he said “He’s actually coming home! I’ll print out this email when I get to work. I’ll have to tell Cook there will be company. He won’t know anyone anymore. Well except me and Samuel. I’ll have to tell Samuel. Has Miss Dez moved into your house yet? Or will we put them up in the big house?”

“James, James….slow down. Come, sit down with me for breakfast. They can stay with us. We do have a guest room.” James switched off his computer. “You are quite right. I must not have been awake and settled just yet. Forgive my excitement, dear.” Composed now, he ran his hand over his hair and straightened his housecoat. Martha smiled at his obvious discomfort. She took his hand and led him like a child to the kitchen. 

~~~~~

Over the next few weeks, James was distracted from Estate business and always finding things that needed fixing or painting. In the first week, Emelina just thought he was doing an inventory. Elizabeth was a bit more concerned; she thought there was something more to his constant inspection of everything. “Martha, what is going on with James?! He comes out of his office muttering, always closes and locks the door behind him. He never does that except when he’s going out. Then he starts. All through the kitchen - ‘these cupboards need painting, the table looks old and we should get a new one…I’ll have to talk to Miss Emelina about it.’ Then he goes in the mud room…. ‘I’ll have to tell Martha that it needs a good clean.’ Then it’s out to the veranda. I don’t know what needs fixing or painting out there. He takes a clipboard with him and is scribbling on it as he goes back to his office. Barely taking notice of me. If he wants coffee or tea, he takes it out here. Doesn’t take any into his office - he always takes a cup of coffee to his office.” On that day, she and Martha were talking over mugs of tea and fresh scones when Emelina was coming into the kitchen from outside. Putting her brief case down on a chair, she took a clean mug from the cupboard. “I noticed that as well, Martha. He came to me with this long list of repairs and updating that he wanted to get done in the next few weeks. If there are repairs he usually has already contacted several repairmen, set tentative dates and even has a list of supplies needed. He spaces work dates out, but this time it's different. He seems worried about something.” Martha just listened quietly, her face impassive, her amusement hidden. 

When the two women had finished expressing their concerns, she took a last sip of her tea and told them all about James’ brother. They had not seen each other for forty years, and James hadn’t heard from him for about twenty years. His brother was coming home.

“Anticipation is a gift. Perhaps there is none greater.”

~ Steven L. Peck, A Short Stay in Hell

Illumination ~ 2

Settling into anger deep,

the edges of my soul charred ~

energy burned 

     through my body

          lit my mind 

illuminating 

     reality 

          purpose

the charred edges of my soul, healed

the anger that gripped me, released.

“Madness, and then illumination.”

~ Orson Scott Card

It's March!!

snow

white, glittering and beautiful

but it is time ~

past time for the greening

shades of leaves and grass

promise of shade and carpet.

last year at this time?

still snow ~ but! melted and melting.

angry?

no ~ just a bit miffed.

“March is the month of expectation, the things we do not know.”

~ Emily Dickinson

From a Distance

Reckless and thoughtless!

No care taken, at all,

with others lives!

From a distance

across the ocean

anger froths impotently

In the comfort of homes

supplied with food and water

we are warm and horrified.

“Creators of history always play with our impotence and our ignorance.”

~ Dejan Stojanovic, The Sun Watches the Sun