The Chronicles of Harold the Healer Ch. 03

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Harold had greatly enjoyed the cake, which was a lemon-flavoured layer cake with vanilla frosting between the layers and creamy chocolate frosting all around. He'd requested it on a plate with a fork and consumed it while leaning against the side wall while watching other people enter, pay, receive, and depart. He was surprised not by the fact that they all brought in their own anonymous bags and boxes into which their sweet purchases were placed, but by how many seemed to recognize him and offered friendly greetings, which he returned cordially. Maybe it was the staff, he mused, as the last crumb was devoured. He seemed to be the only person in town who walked around with one.

"That was one of the best cakes I have ever tasted," he said to Carlos, burping politely, Cleaning the plate and fork and handing them back to him over the counter. "Kim Blandford will be producing a bumper crop of tomatoes this year. Do you have something that uses them?"

"There are a few cake recipes that use tomatoes," he had replied with a grin. "In the fall we make plenty of them, and when zucchini start coming out, we have many desperate people trying to unload the damned things and we make loads of zucchini bread with them." Harold snickered.

"If they get big enough, they make a good cosh. That's about all they're good for, as far as I'm concerned, with the only exception being the bread." Wanda suddenly snapped her fingers.

"Now I remember! Sam Turner was asking around for you."

"The veterinarian?" Harold asked, eyebrows raised. "Has he got a new challenge for me?"

"He's thinking about finally retiring and believes you'd be the perfect candidate to take over his business." The bakers saw Harold perk up noticeably.

"I've been thinking that it's high time that I settled down here, and this gives me the perfect excuse, uh, reason," he corrected himself somewhat ironically. "Where's his office? I'll drop by after I visit Pella and Miss Keystone."

"He's down the street a way, just past the, um, Park," Carlos replied. "I'd better check on something," he added hastily, turning and scuttling back into the depths.

"We're working on something and he doesn't want it to overbake," Wanda filled in. Without prompting, she offered directions to Miss Keystone's house.

"Thanks," replied the Healer, grabbing his staff and heading for the door. "I didn't know that baking made you mind-readers as well." He smiled, waved, and walked out into the rain.

"Is he gone?" asked Carlos. "I hope that I didn't give anything away."

"I think we're OK," his wife replied, checking on the progress with the fondant frosting that their assistant Anna was making. "Looks good, dear."

"He's a nice man," Anna replied, kneading the fondant on the table with her strong hands. "Leila's a great lady. I want this wedding to be the best one yet."

"We've got a lot of work to do to make our part of it happen," Carlos replied. "Let's keep going."

Comfortably full from his snack, Harold wandered down the street to Pella's, where he was greeted warmly as usual. There wasn't much gossip to trade, and they offered directions to Miranda Keystone's house that were similar to Wanda's, so he was on his way shortly after. At only some risk to life and limb, he was able to scurry across the street, where he found himself in front of the General Store. He was in a good mood because of the news about the veterinarian and felt that somehow a weight had been lifted from his shoulders. He would have to return to Havisham to tender his resignation, but would offer to provide training or any other help that he could for a replacement. He saw Mark Acorn in the window arranging a display of gardening implements, who smiled and waved. Harold returned the silent greeting and continued south on the sidewalk.

At the end of the block was Mapleview Street, which extended westwards several blocks, from what he could see as he peered down it through the light rain. There were lots of big, shady trees and the houses looked substantial. "I wonder who lives here?" he mused as he crossed the street. On the other corner was a large four-storey red brick building called the Dewdrop Inn, according to its very tasteful sign. It was separated from the corner by about 30 feet of lush green lawn with a wood verandah at the front, which faced Main Street. Most of the lower floor appeared to be occupied by a restaurant, and since it was about 1:00, the lunch rush was past and it looked relatively empty.

The verandah had a few chairs and small tables, two of which were occupied by people. The one on the left was a large, elderly man with a full head of white hair, a trimmed white beard and mustache, and an off-white pullover shirt with the sleeves rolled up above the elbows, pale green pants, and leather boots halfway to the knees. A large hat was on his lap and a folded back umbrella leaned on the wall. The other was a woman with a round, cherubic face with white hair peeking out from under a stylish red hat. She had a matching lightweight red coat, handbag, and umbrella. Between them was a table with a pair of coffee mugs, and on the verandah was an incongruous pile of tan, black, and white, possibly a blanket of some sort, from what he could see from between the closely-spaced wooden posts that supported its railing.

As he stood at the junction of flagstone sidewalk, which had been installed on both sides of the street in the business area, and the paved walkway that led to the front door, Harold was struck by just how little he knew about Magwitch. He knew that the town was about twenty miles north of the ocean, and also thirty miles east of the ocean after the shore made a bend northward. The Main Street led to the Capital Road eight miles north; a left turn would get you to Havisham in less than a day of fast walking and from there it was three days by coach to the Capital itself, or about two weeks on foot. But he had no idea of its economy and who lived there and their occupations beyond the various people he had treated over the years. Raindrops hitting a small puddle on the walk made him suddenly think that he was like one of the water-strider bugs that skittered across the surface of a pond, going from place to place while never engaging with the wide, busy world that was clearly visible beneath. Marcie was getting older and he wanted to play a bigger role in her life, and in Leila's. He looked around, seeing the people going about their business, rain or no rain, and decided that he wanted to stay.

"Mister Moser, is that you?" His reverie was broken by the clear alto voice of the woman on the verandah. She and the man waved invitingly once they had seen that he had noticed them.

"Guilty as charged," he called back with a smile. "Whom do I have the honour of addressing?"

"I'm Miranda Keystone. You were going to visit me to look at my dog's cataracts."

"What a fortunate coincidence. You've saved me some walking," he replied happily. As he strode up the path, both people noticed that despite the soldiers' boots he wore, he hardly made a sound, and that his long staff tapped the grass at the side of the path instead of the walk. They watched him pause for a moment to examine the tasteful flower beds on either side of the walk at the base of the verandah before he mounted the three steps, again almost soundlessly, and rose to greet him. The furry pile resolved itself into a large dog that lumbered to its feet and stared at him with dark brown eyes, whose cataracts were clearly visible even from the distance that separated them. Its tail began swishing back and forth, brushing against the legs of the man, who was taller than him and had the physique of a blacksmith.

"I'm Sam Turner, the veterinarian," he introduced himself, extending a large hand that Harold advanced to grasp in a firm handshake, followed by a more refined handshake with Miranda. He then knelt to offer his hand to the dog to sniff, and he got a friendly lick in return.

"This must be Tiny," the Healer replied, indicating the dog, who was now leaning into an ear scratch. Its hair was medium length with a slight curl to it, and in a random pattern of white, black, and tan. "Big guys always seem to get called Tiny, and I guess it applies to dogs too."

"I didn't know when I got him as a puppy that he'd turn out so big," Miranda replied with a fond smile. "He was such a small thing at the time. It was actually Sam that gave him to me."

"The runt of the litter, believe it or not," Sam replied in his deep, friendly voice.

"OK, big fella, let's see those eyes of yours before my hand falls off," said Harold, finally putting a stop to the head scratching. Tiny made a complaining noise, but opened his eyes and looked at him. The Healer closed his eyes and concentrated for a few moments, and they could feel something change. His two index fingers were glowing turquoise and forest green in constantly shifting patterns. "This won't hurt, Tiny," he said in a soothing voice. He made a few small gestures and said a sentence in a strange language and a small spark jumped from each finger into the dog's eyes. Tiny whuffed and shook his head, but after a few blinks, the milky white of the cataracts was gone. He looked around in apparent amazement, barked loudly, making them all jump, ran off the verandah and tore all around the front lawn woofing and capering.

"It's not every day you get such a reaction from your patient, is it?" Sam said, shaking his head. "But when they walk away all better, it's worth the price of admission."

"Nothing beats that feeling of satisfaction at a job well done," Harold replied, watching the dog's capering finally come to a halt in front of the steps. "As a bonus, I'll clean and dry him off for you." He adjusted his Ward to shield them and hit Tiny with a combined Clean and Banish Water, sending a spray of dirty water in all directions. The dog barked again and ran up the stairs, nearly bowling them over in his enthusiasm.

"Thank you very much, Healer Harold," said Miranda. "You've made a world of difference to Tiny, and to me." She caught him off guard with a surprisingly strong hug.

"You're very welcome. All in a day's work," he squeaked breathlessly. "Now that it's over, I can mooch around town and get to know it a little better. I just realized that I hardly know it at all."

"You should at least let us buy you a late lunch," said Sam smoothly as Harold managed to extricate himself from Miranda. "The restaurant isn't busy at this time in the afternoon and I'm sure they'll have something that they'll want to fob off on us."

"Do you think they'd let us in?" Harold asked, looking at himself and the vet. "I can almost detect snooting even from here."

"No, they're actually relatively relaxed about clothing. As long as you're wearing some, you're welcome," Miranda replied firmly. "Tiny will stay here and rest after all his exercise," she said to the dog, who woofed, walked over to the far end of the verandah and flopped down, once again becoming a multi-coloured rug.

"Well, life in the Army teaches you to never turn down a chance for food, sleep, or, uh, using the privy," he quickly substituted, getting snickers from the others. "Yes, I can pretend to be a polite citizen when I have to," he added, rolling his eyes. Harold grabbed his staff, Sam held the door open, and they all entered the lobby. Ten steps in front of them was the front desk of the hotel and the entrance to the restaurant was to its right. Behind the desk was a tall, buxom blonde with an hourglass figure, a big, winning smile under a small, pointed nose, and bright blue eyes. She liked to play up the dumb blonde act to strangers, but anyone who was good at reading people could tell that she was anything but. The name tag on her chest was an elegant powder blue with gold script that read 'Emma Green'.

"Healer Harold!" Emma greeted them, surprised. "What brings you to the lovely Dewdrop Inn?"

"Them," he replied dryly, getting some chuckles. "How have you been doing? It's been a while."

"Hi, Miranda. Hi Sam," she greeted them. "I fell and broke my arm a few years ago when running around with the pack of kids," she explained. "He happened to be coming into town and the gang found him, brought him back, and he fixed me up. I still feel a twinge now and then when the weather changes, but otherwise I've been great. Thank you once again."

"You're welcome," he said for the second time in a few minutes. "As I recall, after you woke up, you got up and ran off with the pack as if nothing had happened."

"But I never forgot. And thank you, Sam, for helping Muffin recover from the skunk spray. Your formula is a true miracle!"

"You're welcome. Anything to get that stink out of my clinic. But you may be thanking Harold here for Muffin's care. I'm finally planning to retire and am offering him the job."

"Wow, thank you very much!" he replied, grinning like an idiot as they moved towards the restaurant. "Hey!" He had felt a hand squeeze his ass, but he couldn't determine the culprit. "Wanda Cartwright mentioned it when I dropped in. I've been thinking about finally settling down after too many years of being on the move all the time, but I didn't want to cut into your business."

"Having you here would be a big boost for Magwitch, and the area," said Miranda firmly as they were greeted by the hostess.

"Welcome to the restaurant!" said Anna. She was five-foot-nine, with long black hair tied in a pony tail, bright green eyes, and a willowy figure. As was Emma, she was dressed in a white button-up blouse with a modest neckline and "Dewdrop Inn" embroidered on the left side, along with a pale blue skirt that went below the knees. "Table for three?"

"Yes, please," Harold replied. "With extra room for my inflated ego," he added. "Thank you, Emma," he added, turning to face her. "It's great to see you again. Take care."

"Will do, Healer Harold," she replied cheerfully, returning to her station. Anna led them to a table that was right at the corner of the room where they could see out both windows. Harold propped his staff in the corner and sat facing the north-facing window, while Miranda sat facing the east-facing window that looked out onto the street, and Sam planted his large frame in the chair facing Harold.

"Can I get you anything to drink?" Miranda ordered a tea, while Sam and Harold opted for coffee. "We have both freshly-made," she said. "I'll be right back with them." It was a large room, about thirty feet along the main street and forty back along the side street. She walked back to the kitchen that was on the far side of the room and was marked by two doors, one that opened into the kitchen and the other into the dining room. Three other tables were occupied with couples also having late lunches, who looked at them with some interest before returning to their conversations.

"I'll take you to the clinic after our refreshment," Sam continued. "It's not that far away, and we can drop off Miranda at her house on the way," he added gallantly.

"I don't think that Tiny would want to visit it," she replied dryly. "He has a sixth sense when it comes to vet visits. I have no idea how he knows."

"A lot of animals are like that, and I don't know why either," Sam admitted as Anna returned with a tray and three steaming mugs, which were efficiently distributed. A small crystal pitcher of cream and a small crystal bowl of white sugar with a nicely patterned silver spoon were also included.

"Would you care for a bite to eat?" she asked in her pleasant voice. "We have some individual-sized shepherd's pies that Chef Ralph has just taken out of the oven."

"How can I say no to that?" Harold asked, and got no disagreement from the others.

"I'll be right back," she replied, turning and heading back to the kitchen.

"Tell me a bit about your practice, Sam," said the Healer, sipping his coffee, which he liked black. "There are enough people in and around the town to keep you busy."

"There are indeed," he replied, looking out the window at the rain that finally seemed to be coming to an end. "I technically own the practice, but there are two other licenced vets with me, who are still relatively new to the field and aren't ready to take it over. There are also three assistants who do a lot of the routine work, taking care of animals that have to stay overnight or are being boarded, and one office administrator who runs the place and tells us what to do." Harold and Miranda smiled and nodded at that. They knew that it was the admins who managed the 'talent' and kept things moving along, no matter what field or profession you were in.

"You can't make a lot of house calls because it's not time-efficient," Miranda said.

"We wish that we could," he replied, brightening up as Anna re-entered the room with a tray and began her approach to the table. "It would be a lot less stressful for the dogs and cats. For livestock, we have to pay house calls, of course, and Julie will go out and have a look and fix them up if she can. Oh, thank you, Anna. Those look good." Harold and Miranda also thanked her as she gave them each a pie the diameter of a dessert plate.

"You won't be hungry after this," she said cheerfully.

"Oh, I'm not hungry now," Harold lied. His stomach loudly disagreed with him. "Quiet, you!" he threatened, getting laughs from the others. "Betrayed by my body again," he sighed theatrically. "Thank you very much, Anna." She smiled and went off to one of the other tables and they started eating.

"Chef Ralph does it again," Miranda commented. "Believe it or not, he was a Town Councillor a few years ago. After a couple of years of running the various Winter Solstice and Spring Equinox parties, we all conspired to get him to forget politics and take this job instead. There have been no regrets."

"I'm going to need a refresher in the basics of regular veterinary care," Harold replied, feeding himself another forkful of shepherd's pie. "I've spent all my time Healing really serious stuff in both people and animals, mostly horses and livestock, and I've kind of lost track of how to do the basic things for pets," he continued after chewing and swallowing it. It was good stuff. He snorted and shook his head. "Mister Big Shot Healer Mage owns a veterinary clinic and he can't do the basics. They'll pat me on the back and send me out to the farms to keep me out of mischief."

"You'll hardly know that you changed jobs," Sam quipped, his grin at Harold's attempted glower shifting the wrinkles on his face.

"What's wrong, Harold?" asked Miranda, looking concerned. The Healer had developed a troubled, far-away looking expression. He then looked down and shoveled the small amount left on his plate into his mouth.

"There are Mages coming, and neither is Leila," he said. "We can sense each other when we're close enough. If this is who I think it is, I may want to make a hasty exit." Four horses of various colours pulled a large coach that was painted black and white with gold trim to a stop in front of the building. "That's the Mage School's crest!" he exclaimed. "Why would they be showing up here, of all places?"

"Ooh, Healer Harold has a murky past," snickered Miranda as she and Sam emulated him by quickly finishing their pies. "If you can sense them, they can sense you, so there's no point in running."

"This is not the time to be sensible!" he complained as the driver, well-dressed in a waterproof rainsuit, stiffly dismounted from his position atop the coach, stretched briefly, then opened the door. "Oh, and here comes Leila," he added, "just to make things more interesting." The first to emerge was a large, gray-haired man, nattily attired in a military dress uniform, who carefully checked around for non-existent threats. A slightly smaller female subordinate, with long, gray hair tied back in a ponytail, followed, also looking for threats and finding only curious onlookers, whom she tried to shoo away.