06-27-2022, 06:17 PM
The nose was not what she had meant, as was clear by the awkward quality her husband’s smile took on. They were all aware of what exactly Mara had been asking about – the bruises, the bites – but the answer he provided seemed to soothe their curiosities enough to drop the subject.
It was plausible, Malachi reasoned. A mentally disturbed patient very well could have bitten and bruised him so.
What made the story less than compelling was the same marks of injury depicted on Malachi’s skin.
“That is very unfortunate,” Levi offered in some attempt to make sure that his wife did not question it further.
Mara glanced back down at her plate to resume eating, chewing Arthur’s response all the while. Away from prying eyes, Malachi gave Arthur’s hand a gentle, encouraging squeeze, as if to say that he was pleased with it.
“Well, I am hoping for you as well, doctor,” said Miriam, her smile a touch too friendly. “Raising Levi –” which Malachi did not need to remind her that she had not done “– was perhaps one of the most fulfilling experiences of my life, and look how he has turned out. He is no doctor, of course, but there is no greater love than that of a mother and father for their son.”
That brought her son to scoff lightheartedly. Had he been a better father, he might have said the same thing about his and Mara’s love for their own child, but it did not occur to him.
“You mentioned Whitby?” he raised a fine blond brow, glancing up from where he delicately cut into the meat on his plate. “I hear they have nice beaches. Is that where you have been, Mal?”
Surprised to be addressed so directly, Malachi quietly cleared his throat, suddenly flustered.
“I- yes. Not for very–”
“More wine?” Miriam waved for the nearest servant.
“Ah,” Levi nodded slowly. “For your little… God thing, is it?”
“For the church. Yes,” the servant moved about the table, refilling their glasses whether they had been touched or not. “That is how I met Doctor Adams.”
“Yes, I heard that part. And you two are… friends?”
Had it been anyone else, the inflection might have implied that he assumed something less innocent about their relationship. From the way he looked between them, though, it was clear that his confusion laid primarily with the fact that they could be any sort of friends at all.
Lowering her voice, Miriam questioned Arthur, “and you do not mind that he’s…”
“Mother,” Levi laughed. Another awkward sound to cover her. “The doctor has made it clear how compassionate he is for all kinds of people. One has to be, in order to be a doctor, I presume? I for one think it is a good thing. Look at him, sitting at the table – Arthur has clearly been a good influence.”
It was plausible, Malachi reasoned. A mentally disturbed patient very well could have bitten and bruised him so.
What made the story less than compelling was the same marks of injury depicted on Malachi’s skin.
“That is very unfortunate,” Levi offered in some attempt to make sure that his wife did not question it further.
Mara glanced back down at her plate to resume eating, chewing Arthur’s response all the while. Away from prying eyes, Malachi gave Arthur’s hand a gentle, encouraging squeeze, as if to say that he was pleased with it.
“Well, I am hoping for you as well, doctor,” said Miriam, her smile a touch too friendly. “Raising Levi –” which Malachi did not need to remind her that she had not done “– was perhaps one of the most fulfilling experiences of my life, and look how he has turned out. He is no doctor, of course, but there is no greater love than that of a mother and father for their son.”
That brought her son to scoff lightheartedly. Had he been a better father, he might have said the same thing about his and Mara’s love for their own child, but it did not occur to him.
“You mentioned Whitby?” he raised a fine blond brow, glancing up from where he delicately cut into the meat on his plate. “I hear they have nice beaches. Is that where you have been, Mal?”
Surprised to be addressed so directly, Malachi quietly cleared his throat, suddenly flustered.
“I- yes. Not for very–”
“More wine?” Miriam waved for the nearest servant.
“Ah,” Levi nodded slowly. “For your little… God thing, is it?”
“For the church. Yes,” the servant moved about the table, refilling their glasses whether they had been touched or not. “That is how I met Doctor Adams.”
“Yes, I heard that part. And you two are… friends?”
Had it been anyone else, the inflection might have implied that he assumed something less innocent about their relationship. From the way he looked between them, though, it was clear that his confusion laid primarily with the fact that they could be any sort of friends at all.
Lowering her voice, Miriam questioned Arthur, “and you do not mind that he’s…”
“Mother,” Levi laughed. Another awkward sound to cover her. “The doctor has made it clear how compassionate he is for all kinds of people. One has to be, in order to be a doctor, I presume? I for one think it is a good thing. Look at him, sitting at the table – Arthur has clearly been a good influence.”
