The Doctor’s Daughter -March 2023 Short Story Picture Prompt Contest Winner

The Doctor's Daughter

By Caitlyn Koser

      The aroma of freshly baked biscuits filled the house, fragrancing the front porch where I sat with its lofty odors. The trellis on the side of the porch was blossoming, its full, scarlet flowers beckoning the sunshine to warm its petals. 

      I rocked on the front porch, my sketchpad in front of me, my pencil lazing over the paper effortlessly. A curve took shape, a fold, a bud. Soft ripples filled the page. A rose. 

     I would have to paint it sometime. Maybe my scarlet red with golden highlights, maybe silvan green for the stem, bronze brown for the thorns… 

A sudden noise startled me out of my reverie. I glanced up in time to see Ma’s surrey coming around the bend. 

      Hastily I slapped my sketchpad shut. Opening the screen door, I ran inside, flew up the stairs, and hid my sketchpad under my bed. 

      Ma was just coming in when I came down, wearing a weary expression on her work-worn face. “How’d it go?” I asked, even though I didn’t really want to hear the answer. “Fine. Mrs. Thorne’s baby is a right purty little girl. Only a few troubles, with the umbilical cord, like I expected, but all’s well that ends well. That midwife can’t do anything, it seems like. Was more of a hindrance than a help.” 

I listened with half an ear. I heard the same stories every day, being the daughter of a doctor. 

You heard that right. A woman doctor. Unheard of in these parts. 

     I helped Ma roll out the dough for biscuits, managing to sneak upstairs while they were baking. I plopped onto my bed and leaned over to my dresser, taking out a piece of paper. Grinning, I unfolded it, knowing exactly what it would say. 

Meet me in the grove at sunset. 

I would be there, alright. 

      I tried to suppress the smile on my face. Ma always said my face was an open book, she could read whatever my expressions were saying. Something like doctors understand human emotion. I didn’t know how much truth there was to that, though. 

     We ate a light dinner of biscuits and preserves, Ma recounting the day’s troubles, me listening while I poked at my burnt biscuit with my fork. 

“Didn’t turn out the best, eh?” Ma asked, glancing over at the pan of biscuits. Lately she’d been avoiding gluten with some new-fangled diet she’d found. 

“Nah.” 

“You normally love my biscuits, Maddie-girl.” Ma said, eating her pile of collard greens. Yuck. I shrugged and she looked a little hurt. 

“Why didn’t you tell me before?” 

“You wouldn’t care.” Too busy with doctoring instead of being here in the house, where she belongs.

“Now what’s that supposed to mean?” Ma looked at me questioningly. “Pa always loved them, too.” 

“Never mind.” Wouldn’t do any good to stir up an argument. 

      We finished up dinner in silence, trying to make some sort of small talk. Ma chatted about the weather and asked me about school that day, none of which had been spectacular. A few hours later, nearing supper time, I told Ma I had somewhere to go and wouldn’t come home in time for supper. 

“I’m making your favorite, you know. Pork and brown sugar beans.” Ma said when I told her. 

“Oh… I’ll take leftovers for dinner tomorrow at school.” 

“Oh.” 

      I slipped on my shoes and was out of the house before she could ask where I was going. The sun hadn’t slipped over the horizon quite yet, but it gave away its coming farewell with the first tinges of pink in the sky. The first insects started to chirp and chatter in their carefree way, welcoming me as I swished through the long meadow in front of our house. I began to break into a run, not out of urgency, but out of embracing the summer evening. I reached the grove breathless and rosy-cheeked. Lilac was already there, and she glanced up from her sketchbook with a demure grin as I approached. “Hey!” 

“Hey yourself.” I plopped down on the soft, squishy moss beside her, crushing a cluster of toadstools as I did. I craned my neck to see Lilac’s drawing. A bunch of lupines which were standing at the end of the grove. 

“You’re late.” Lilac was a dear friend, but she usually spoke her mind regardless of other people’s opinions. I had grown used to it, of course. 

“I know. Ma was rattling on about the baby she delivered today.” 

      Lilac nodded sympathetically, her eyes still trained on the lupines catching a last ray of sunlight on the edge of the grove. The lupines were framed by the soft, graceful willows that formed the grove, fringed my bushes of queen Anne’s lace and fading forsythia. “What do you want to be?” 

I had long grown accustomed to translating Lilac’s cryptic sentences. “An artist, of course. What else?” 

It was a rhetorical question. Art was my passion, my wheelhouse, my vibrancy. Ma’s passion was being a doctor. 

      But she never seemed to think about me. How humiliating it was for me when the children at school excluded me. When the ladies at church glanced at me oddly and made sure their children didn’t talk to me. When I sat collecting Ma’s lost stethoscope or needle she had left while other children went to parties. 

I gazed wistfully into the fading sunset, my mind a tangled web. 

***

“Maddie! Could you come here for a moment?” Ma was calling me. Dog-earing the corner of the page in my book, I descended the stairs to where she was waiting, familiar black bag in hand. 

“I need you to come with me to Mrs. Birches. She has three kids under the age of four running around, and that isn’t the best thing to have underfoot while delivering a baby. Could you babysit?” 

      My mouth went dry. I had just been invited to one of my schoolmate’s parties, a rare instance when I wasn’t being excluded. Patty’s house. They lived in one of the fanciest mansions in town, with indoor plumbing, soft red carpets, and a real grand piano. Visions of cake and ice cream filled my head, and I snapped back to attention when I realized Ma was still waiting for my dissent. 

“I-I just was invited to Patty’s party.” I bit my lip, looking up at Ma, waiting to see what she had to say. 

Ma looked tired. “I guess - this once. Hurry home though, afterwards.” 

“Thank you!” Impulsively, I threw my arms around her neck, gratitude etched in my smile. “Thank you, Ma! I’ll be sure to be back soon after the party’s finished.” Ma nodded, her eyes weary. She had been up all last night helping a patient with the measles. She had gotten home in the wee hours of the morning, managing to not wake me up as she slipped past my room to her bedroom, where she had probably fallen asleep as soon as her head hit the pillow. 

      Twenty minutes later, I was knocking on Patty’s door, admiring her brass knocker, shaped in the head of a lion. Her house was huge, at least three stories tall. I had never been inside it, but the popular girls at school had spread the image of her house all over the small one-room schoolhouse. 

      The door opened, and a couple of other guests and I were swept into the large foyer. A huge chandelier bounced diamonds off the walls. The red carpet felt soft and luscious. Guests mingled near the kitchen, talking and laughing. 

I grinned, Ma’s weary face completely forgotten. 

Her tired eyes but a mere memory. 

***

      It was still dark in the room when my eyes flew open, awakened by a sudden rustling in the room. It was Ma, who I could barely make out in the dim light of the candle she was holding. She was still dressed in her night robe, her hair still in curlers. Why in the world would she be waking me up at this time? It must still be well before midnight. 

“Maddie. I need you to help me.” Ma’s eyes were weary, like they usually were. She looked as if she had just been awakened from a deep sleep. “One of the villagers has consumption, bad. She’s on her deathbed. Her mother called me.” 

I was still half-asleep, and my foggy brain took a minute to process this news. “Why do you need me?”

      Ma sighed. “Maddie, she’s your age. She’s about to die. I need you to comfort her while I try all that I can do to save her.” 

“Ma!” I was wide awake now. “I might catch the disease!” 

      Ma shut her eyes. “Maddie. Does that really mean more to you than helping a friend in need?” Not waiting for an answer, Ma softly shut the door and exited the room. Grudgingly, I got up. Why couldn’t my life be normal? Why did my mother have to be a doctor? 

      I remembered Pa, a carpenter. He had always been completely supportive of Ma’s crazy endeavors. I could still picture Pa’s scratchy, long beard, his red-checked gingham shirt, his twinkling eyes, his strong build. I pictured him and Ma together, Pa towering over Ma’s delicate form. He could still pick her up, even when he got into middle age. 

I could just lay in bed and ignore Ma, go back to sleep and start dreaming of last night’s party. 

      But I couldn’t back out. I knew I couldn’t. God wouldn’t want me to abandon a friend. I remembered the verses Pa had read from the Bible every night. Proverbs 17:17: A friend loves at all times, and a brother is born for adversity. 

John 15:13: Greater love has no one than this, that someone lay down his life for his friends. 

Taking a deep breath, I got out of my warm, cozy bed and threw on some clothing - a light blouse and skirt. 

Then I glanced out the window. 

      Snow was whirling down. It was March, officially springtime in New England, but surprise snow storms were not uncommon. I threw on heavier clothes. One could never be too careful this time of year. This winter had been an unusually cruel one. 

      Ten minutes later, Ma and I were out in the snow squall, which had only laid down an inch so far. It must have started snowing shortly after I had gone to bed. 

      The house Ma was heading to was not far, and I was filled with dread by the time we reached it. I whispered a silent prayer as I went. LORD, please protect me. I know You’ll work this out for good somehow. Keep Ma and I safe from sickness please. In Christ’s name, amen.” We were almost to the house, and I glanced down at Ma’s empty arms. 

“You forgot your doctor’s bag!” I exclaimed. 

      Ma’s face paled. “Oh, Maddie. You’re right.” She drew in a sharp breath. “There’s not much for the patient I can do, anyway. It’s too late to go back.” 

I nodded as we took the steps that were in front of the small cottage and swung open the door without a knock. 

The house smelled of sickness. 

      The patient lay in her bed in her bedroom, her face pale and drawn. My stomach clinched as I glimpsed her. She was a schoolmate of mine, but I hadn’t seen her for weeks due to her recent illness.

The illness that was about to take her life. 

      I read to her, sang to her, and read to her some more as Ma did the best of her doctoring abilities. She was listening, I could tell, although her eyes were closed. We read through Little Women and started on Anne of Green Gables, conjuring images of brighter days for the suffering patient. We sang Swing low, Sweet Chariot and read Psalm 91. 

Then, four hours after we arrived, our patient took a turn for the worst. 

I watched as she took her last breath. This had never hit home before. 

She was just my age. 

      With a heavy heart, Ma and I packed up our supplies and left the mourning house, which had one less occupant then when we had arrived. 

      A sick feeling filled my stomach as we left the house, still a few hours before sunrise. A wave of nausea washed over me as I pictured the girl, only a year younger than I was. It had to be at least a foot, and I shivered in the cold wind. It was incredibly cold for the balmy weather we had yesterday. 

      During the four hours we had been there, the snow had accumulated a shocking amount. It had to be at least a foot, and I shivered in the cold wind. It was incredibly cold for the balmy weather we had yesterday. 

      I didn’t see how this would work out for good, but I knew that God would orchestrate it for His divine and perfect purposes. I drew in a deep breath, thinking of Pa, and how he would wrap his arms around me and remind me of God’s love. I would burrow my face in his shirt as I cried my eyes out. 

      But now I remained rigid as Ma and I crunched through the snow, my face without a tear. The air smelled of snow, but it was mixed with another odor as well. 

Smoke? 

Ma smelled it too, and we scanned the countryside. There it was. A plume of thick, black smoke. 

Coming in the direction of our house. 

      On impulse, I broke into a run, Ma following as best as she could. Running was hard in the thick snow, but I tried as best I could breaking a path for Ma that she would follow. The scent of smoke grew more pungent as we went, and the plume of smoke got thicker and blacker. 

We reached our house out of breath to find the right side of the farmhouse enveloped in flames. 

      We watched helplessly as the flame filled more and more of the house. The window that had been my bedroom was filled with smoke and flames, and Ma’s room was next. The snow was still falling lightly, but not enough to put out the fire. 

      Neither of us spoke as it happened. I knew it was useless to run to town as the fire would have taken our whole house by the time anybody could get there. Besides, the snow on the ground would stop the fire and prevent it from spreading.

Everything would soon be gone in a matter of minutes. 

***

Five years ago… 

      I surveyed my new room excitedly. The window was open, allowing the sounds of spring to come in. Fresh white paint covered my walls, and a robin’s blue bookcase that Pa had made stood squatly near the window. I nearly clapped my hands with delight. 

     Our last house had been a one story house, and the concept of having two floors was almost more than I could handle. I spun around, giggling as Pa came in behind me. “How’s my little pumpkin?” Pa threw me up in the air and catched me, repeating it over and over as I begged him breathlessly to stop. 

“Do you like your new room?” Ma came in behind me. She was smiling, the first time I had seen her do that in years. The life in the city had taken its toll on her, but now she was back where she loved. 

      Pa swung Ma up with his large hands as well, and she laughed like a schoolgirl. I smiled at them as I looked out the open window, across the pasture, the meadow, the forest, and the brook. 

I never wanted this moment to end. 

***

The house was gone. 

I crouched in the snow with Ma, huddling together to keep warm. A dying patient, now this! 

And then it struck me. 

      If we had not gone to help that patient, we would have been stuck in a burning house, completely unaware in our beds. 

      I almost laughed in relief, sharing my revelation with Ma as she too, slowly caught on to the work of God’s divine hand. 

I had asked God why this was happening. 

And this was my answer. 

***

Three days later… 

“Helloooo! Can I come out here?” Ma tapped on the inside of the door to the porch, and I looked behind me, startled. 

I glanced up from the porch of a friend’s house, where we were living until another house could get built for us. 

“I was thinking.” Ma settled a basket of snap peas on her lap and began to trim the long ends. “All my doctoring supplies are now gone.” 

I gave a sudden gasp. I hadn’t thought about this. “You’re right.” The fire had taken them all.

      Ma nodded slowly, trimming a long end of the snap pea and tossing it into a growing pile at her feet. “Doctoring was my career and my passion. But I realize, Maddie…” She drew in a deep breath. “That that wasn’t what you wanted to be.” 

I stared at my feet. 

“I realize you wanted to be an artist, Maddie.” Ma’s lightning-fast hands slowed as she looked down guiltily. “You’re a beautiful artist. I - I saw your paintings in your room when we were moving our stuff.” 

The ones I had tried to hide from her. 

“I’m sorry.” I meant it. Ma didn’t deserve for me to hide my art from her. 

“I’m sorry, too.” This time Ma was the one apologizing, and I could tell from her expression that she felt terrible about it. “I never let you embrace your passion and wanted to force you into a life of doctoring.” 

“Why?” The word slipped out unexpectedly, almost in a whisper. 

“Because I wanted you to have a better life than I did. I used to be an artist, you know.” Her eyes filled with memories. “And I made a terrible living, and I wanted you to have something better.” 

I felt stunned. All those years… I was just now finding out. 

“I’m so, so sorry.” Ma finished, looking me in the eyes. 

      I slowly got up, and then impulsively threw my arms around her. “Oh, Ma. I forgive you.” “Thank you, Maddie.” Ma’s voice was choked, but I detected a happier note in her voice. And I knew why. 

“Not only did God save us from the fire by bringing us a patient in need…” I smiled. “God used the fire, destroying your supplies, to reconcile our relationship.” Ma’s eyes were wet with tears. “You’re right, Maddie. God - is a good, good Father.” “A good, good Father.” I repeated. 

And I knew it was true.

Artist: ArtStation - ‘I may have forgotten to turn off the oven’

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