feet into the sky, and shades the whole of Weeping Gardens . All of our ancestors have lived under her shadow. It’s what got me into arboreal sciences in the first place.”
“But a doctor, and a botanist?” questioned Jess. “You must have a scary smart brain.”
“Some would say that I am part tree,” said the doctor, her eyes staring off at something only she could see. Then, she looked over at Jess and her mouth curled mischievously. “But, they would be crazy, wouldn’t they?”
Doctor Crispin came toward Jess with a roll of gauze and tape. “Now, let’s see that finger before I end up dropping a scalpel on my toe.”
Jess reached out her hand and the doctor held it up to scrutiny.
“That is a damn fine job of stitching, I must say. I should take a picture of that before I wrap it up.”
Jess grimaced. “Sure. That’ll give the police something to ponder after you’ve gone off on your killing spree.”
“Please,” said the doctor disdainfully, “ain’t nothing to kill in this town that isn’t already dead.”
She noticed the doctor seemed to drift in and out of a more formal way of speaking, as if she were affecting some accent for Jess’ benefit. She just didn’t know which was the real Doctor Crispin.
As the doctor wrapped the gauze round and round, Jess thought of how she could broach the subject of ‘the haunting of Rusty Gate’ . Her first attempt, with Eunice, had blown up in her face. This was going to require some finesse, and Jess really hoped that she wasn’t all out.
“There you go. Boo-boo all better.”
The doctor set the roll of gauze on the tiny rolling tray and picked up the syringe full of Tetanus booster. Jess got a little queasy.
“Which arm?” asked Doctor Paula, even as she was swabbing Jess’ left arm.
“How about somebody else's?”
“Oh, come on. Big girl like you?”
Before Jess could tell her which arm, the needle was in. The jab was clean, the pain immediate. Then, came the spreading cold, slow and lingering. Jess’ eyes slammed shut on the jab, and by the time the doctor had pulled out the syringe and slapped on a band-aid, all she could feel was a numbing ache.
“Your bedside manner sucks,” she whined, rubbing her arm. Jess tried crooking her finger again through the gauze. “How am I supposed to type with that?”
“You a typer?” asked Doctor Crispin.
Jess was sensing an opening. The doctor sat down slowly on the small stool at the end of the first cot to finish filling out Jess’ patient form. She crossed a leg over the other and adjusted the folds of her long, fluffy skirt. Jess caught a glimpse of her old lace-up boots and marveled. These people were authentic down to their little toes.
What a pain in the ass, she thought, to have to garb-up like that everyday. Doctor Crispin didn’t come across as some throwback to a bygone era. Jess didn’t understand her motives, but that was a book someone else would have to write.
“Sometimes I write for the internet.” She had tossed it out there.
There was an almost imperceptible pause in the doctor’s handwriting. Maybe Jess had sparked an interest in internet journalism. Or maybe …
The good doctor set her clipboard aside and considered Jess with her eyes. Then, like a decision was reached, she rose from her seat and went to one of the sparkling white cabinets and pulled out a bottle and two small beakers. Jess recognized the bottle at once.
“Is that … Jameson? ” gasped Jess, a touch of drool at the corner of her mouth.
“I save this for special occasions. But, seeing as there aren’t any, I figure we could drink some of this now.” She poured a couple of fingers into each beaker, and handed one to Jess. The doctor had that sly smirk on her face again, a smirk that said that she knew Jess would not refuse her hospitality.
Jess inspected the beautiful brown liquid. “You are my very favorite doctor ever .”
“You need to get out more.”
As they both sipped from
“But a doctor, and a botanist?” questioned Jess. “You must have a scary smart brain.”
“Some would say that I am part tree,” said the doctor, her eyes staring off at something only she could see. Then, she looked over at Jess and her mouth curled mischievously. “But, they would be crazy, wouldn’t they?”
Doctor Crispin came toward Jess with a roll of gauze and tape. “Now, let’s see that finger before I end up dropping a scalpel on my toe.”
Jess reached out her hand and the doctor held it up to scrutiny.
“That is a damn fine job of stitching, I must say. I should take a picture of that before I wrap it up.”
Jess grimaced. “Sure. That’ll give the police something to ponder after you’ve gone off on your killing spree.”
“Please,” said the doctor disdainfully, “ain’t nothing to kill in this town that isn’t already dead.”
She noticed the doctor seemed to drift in and out of a more formal way of speaking, as if she were affecting some accent for Jess’ benefit. She just didn’t know which was the real Doctor Crispin.
As the doctor wrapped the gauze round and round, Jess thought of how she could broach the subject of ‘the haunting of Rusty Gate’ . Her first attempt, with Eunice, had blown up in her face. This was going to require some finesse, and Jess really hoped that she wasn’t all out.
“There you go. Boo-boo all better.”
The doctor set the roll of gauze on the tiny rolling tray and picked up the syringe full of Tetanus booster. Jess got a little queasy.
“Which arm?” asked Doctor Paula, even as she was swabbing Jess’ left arm.
“How about somebody else's?”
“Oh, come on. Big girl like you?”
Before Jess could tell her which arm, the needle was in. The jab was clean, the pain immediate. Then, came the spreading cold, slow and lingering. Jess’ eyes slammed shut on the jab, and by the time the doctor had pulled out the syringe and slapped on a band-aid, all she could feel was a numbing ache.
“Your bedside manner sucks,” she whined, rubbing her arm. Jess tried crooking her finger again through the gauze. “How am I supposed to type with that?”
“You a typer?” asked Doctor Crispin.
Jess was sensing an opening. The doctor sat down slowly on the small stool at the end of the first cot to finish filling out Jess’ patient form. She crossed a leg over the other and adjusted the folds of her long, fluffy skirt. Jess caught a glimpse of her old lace-up boots and marveled. These people were authentic down to their little toes.
What a pain in the ass, she thought, to have to garb-up like that everyday. Doctor Crispin didn’t come across as some throwback to a bygone era. Jess didn’t understand her motives, but that was a book someone else would have to write.
“Sometimes I write for the internet.” She had tossed it out there.
There was an almost imperceptible pause in the doctor’s handwriting. Maybe Jess had sparked an interest in internet journalism. Or maybe …
The good doctor set her clipboard aside and considered Jess with her eyes. Then, like a decision was reached, she rose from her seat and went to one of the sparkling white cabinets and pulled out a bottle and two small beakers. Jess recognized the bottle at once.
“Is that … Jameson? ” gasped Jess, a touch of drool at the corner of her mouth.
“I save this for special occasions. But, seeing as there aren’t any, I figure we could drink some of this now.” She poured a couple of fingers into each beaker, and handed one to Jess. The doctor had that sly smirk on her face again, a smirk that said that she knew Jess would not refuse her hospitality.
Jess inspected the beautiful brown liquid. “You are my very favorite doctor ever .”
“You need to get out more.”
As they both sipped from
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