My Daughter, Audrey [ON HOLD]

The Gift

Peter’s hand reached out to Jennie’s side of the bed, feeling for her soft, warm skin.  A smile was on his face and his eyes were closed.   He was always delighted when he heard Jennie’s sigh of content when he touched her.  But there was something different.  His fingers grew agitated when all he was greeted with was a cold, empty space.   Peter’s forehead creased and his eyes flew open.  His heart decreased from the rapid pace to a slow disappointed thump, thump, thump.  Peter rubbed his face, being careful to avoid the cut and sat up.   The yellow dog gave out a deep bark and hopped off the bed.   He disappeared into the main room and began barking frantically.

               “Quiet, ya ol’ boy!  Quiet!”  Peter said ineffectively.   He buttoned up the wrinkled shirt he had worn to bed and wandered out of the bedroom, scratching the back of his neck and yawning.  He pushed the dog to the floor, held him down, and using his free hand, opened the door.

               “Oh, you’re up!”  chirped Dr. Coates, making a weak wave at Peter.  “I was comin’ to check up on that arm of yours—hey?  What happened to your face?  What crawlies’ nest did you step in?”

               Peter pursed his lips and shook his head.  “No bee’s nest, if that’s wot yer wonderin’.  No, I got cut up.”

               “Bandits again, aye?  Might I come in and take a look at your arm then?  And your face, whew, it’s bleeding nasty!”  the doctor made a rigid jump into Peter’s house and stood, with his hands in front of him clutching his bag, waiting patiently for Peter to shut the door.

               “Want tea?”  Peter offered, gesturing for Dr. Coates to find a chair.

               “Love some!”    

               “Can’t, Jennie’s not ‘ere.”  Peter’s voice lowered into a gloomy grumble.  He pulled a chair carelessly from the table and sat down. 

               Dr. Coates’s sad eyebrows bended even lower and he reached out and patted Peter’s shoulder.  “Aye, sorry, mate.   Sometimes things don’t work out.  However, I know this lovely little lady, you--,” Dr. Coates rambled eagerly before Peter shushed him.

               “No, no, Doc, she didn’t leave me.  She jest,” Peter’s hands rotated in frantic circles while he scrambled for the right words.  “She jest, erm, left.  But not left left.”

               “So, you two are still together?”

               Peter nodded his head. 

               “Oh, that’s right.  She did come to me to let me let you know.  I’m sorry for my irresponsibility.”

                 “I don’t understand.  We ‘ad a fight, and now she’s left for the States, but she said she loved me, and.  Oh, women, I don’t understand them sometimes.”

               “Ah, women.  They’re like the weather: no matter how close your predictions are, they never stay within expectations.  They’re extraordinary creatures, though!”

               “Yeah, can’t live without them, either.”

               “Can’t have babies without them,” the doctor added right after.

               “Can’t ‘ave food without them, too” Peter said sentimentally while the doctor pulled out his tools.

               “Oh, and the laundry, it won’t get done without them either, don’t forget that!”

                Peter pointed an agreeing finger at him.  “Right on that.  Wait?  Wot are we on?”

               “Women.  Now, take off your shirt and let me have a look at it!”  The doctor fixed his thin rimmed spectacles on and hovered over Peter’s healing arm.   Once Peter revealed the wound, the doctor nodded his head thoughtfully.  “It’s healing nicely.  The swellings down; no sign of infections.  Looks dandy.  Now, that face of yours!”   Dr. Coates took Peter’s face in his calloused hands and turned it in an uncomfortable position so that he could examine it under the poorly lit room.   He hummed and grunted in assessment before releasing the chap’s face.  

               “’Ow’s that?”

               “Oh, terrible.  You might want that looked at the hospital.  If it was with a razor, it could get infected.  And with it being around your mouth, you could easily get sick.  By the way, where’s that lovely little daughter of yours?   Did your wife take her as well?”

               “No.   My ex-lover did.”

               Dr. Coates remained expressionless.  He wasn’t sure if he was to smile or to grieve—the response was unexpected.  “Well, that’s a shame.  Did I tell you she looked like Helen Trapp?”

               “No.  But I’m not surprised.  She’ll get that a lot when she gits older—especially since she’s her daughter.”

               “Blimey!  Ya sayin’ she’s…the daughter.”

               “Yeah, but I ain’t gettin’ any fine funds from her.  She don’t love me ‘n’ I don’t love her.  She jest wants Audrey for money.  And I’m chained to payin’ the witch fifty-thousand in American money.”

               “Really?  Well, anything I can do?  I’ll pay anything to help you get your little doll back—she’s a lovely little thing.”

               “Ah, no, ya got a life, too, don’t want to bother ya with nothin’.  Thanks for lookin’ at the arm.”

               “No, no!  I insist!”  Dr. Coates opened another compartment in his bag and pulled out a sack.  “No one would be interested in digging in ol’ doctor’s bag!  Anyway, I’ve saved some up for a new automobile.  Don’t need that now that I got myself a motorbike from my cousin.  Let me give it to you, aye?  Or at least use the money I give ya to hop on the plane with your wife.”

               “That’s right, I could visit her.  But I’ve got jobs ‘ere to tend to.  I would love to wrap them up before leggin’ it, ya know?”

               “I understand, chap.  Well, get to a hospital.  Tell them Dr. Coates sent you.  Hopefully the bill won’t be bad, if so, ring me.”

               “Oh, doctor, I couldn’t do that.  I’d rather pay.”

               “Getting your daughter back from, what seems to me, an evil woman, is more important.  I am fond of your family, and I’d like to be at your service.”

               Peter broke out into a humble grin and stood up.  Giving the doctor a firm and grateful handshake, Peter managed to say without cracking, “Thank you, Dr. Coates.  I appreciate it greatly.”

               “Ah, my pleasure.  Take care.  I left some medicines for you to take for the pain.”

               “Thanks again, doc.  Cheers!”

               “Ah yeah, right.  Cheers, mate.   Take care of that face or yours. “ the doctor touched his own cheek gingerly; grateful that he wasn’t the one bearing Peter’s jagged scar.

               Peter gave limp farewell wave and closed the door.  He went over to the table and looked down at the suck of money.   He picked it up and dumped the contents out.   His mouth dropped and his eyes widened as large as the skin around them allowed.  “Oh, blimey!  Oh!”  Peter exclaimed as he flipped through the stack.   He grabbed the small tufts of hair around his temples and let out a breathless laugh.  There, in untouched banknotes, was a total of eight-hundred seven pound sterling.  Roughly, if converted to American dollars, it was twelve-hundred fifty four dollars.