The strong sunlight was beaming in through Paul's window when he woke up. If it is that bright outside, he thought, it must be late morning. Not far under his chin, resting on his chest, was a mass of shiny gilded hair with a gently breathing Larene attached to it. One of her long legs was draped over his, the other was sticking out from under the bedsheet. As tired as they had been last night, they lifted and dragged her bed into "their" bedroom, next to his bed. He had never slept better in his life. As he started to get up, slender fingers dug into his chest, gently holding him back down. Barely audible, she groaned, "just ten more minutes." He relaxed back down into the bed, closed his eyes, and drifted; his fingers making little ringlets with her hair.
Over thirty minutes elapsed when they finally got up. Even though it was their first time as a couple getting out of bed, undressed, putting on their clothes, and straightening themselves up; it was like they had been doing it for years. It seemed perfectly natural and, in its own way, innocent. They shared no false modesty or shyness. What was new was seeing each other so disheveled. His hair was sticking up and out in every direction. Her long hair looked like an explosion had taken place. Their appearance amused each other momentarily as they got themselves ready to meet the day. It was almost 11:00.
Paul trotted down the stairs. He smelled smoke. Cigar smoke. He unlocked the front door. There on his porch, sitting in the rocker, was Captain Wellen smoking a cigar. Paul heard Larene trot down the stairs and into the kitchen. Paul walked out on the sunny porch.
"Good afternoon, Doctor." Wellen said, rocking and puffing cigar smoke.
"Didn't we just see each other last night? What are you doing here?" asked Paul, stretching and scratching a little.
From the open window he could hear Larene call out, "What is that awful smoke? Is that Captain Wellen on our porch? What is he doing here?"
Unaffected by their satirical banter, Wellen said, "I brought croissants."
"Yes honey, it is our good friend Wellen, and he brought croissants!"
"Oh I just love it when the Captain pays us a visit," chirped Larene, "he is MOST welcome! Oh sweetie, would you ask the Captain if he would like a cup of coffee?"
Paul smiled at the Captain, "would you like a cup of coffee?"
"I was ready for coffee two hours ago," Wellen said grumpily.
She brought the men coffee, swiped two croissants, and headed off back into the house.
"You have been sitting out here for two hours?"
"I haven't just been sitting," he said, "I have been productive. First of all, my primary reason for coming over here was professional."
"Do tell?" Paul inquired.
"You know Violet, the Stillwell's daughter? Her horse threw her this morning. Her leg is broken. Her parents asked if you would come out and set it."
Larene was trying to do some chores and eavesdrop at the same time; she called out, "Violet broke her leg? Are you going to have to shoot her?"
Paul turned his head back to reply through the open window, "Not Violet the horse, Larene, Violet the Stillwell's daughter." Everyone knew that one of the village farmers had a horse named Violet.
"Oh!" Well, that's good!" answered Larene, now preoccupied with her tasks.
"I will go out there in a few minutes and set it. Anything else?"
"Oh yes," the Captain said, "while you were asleep, Christopher the barrel maker fixed the cistern and the bill is on your cellar door."
"Is that it?"
"Nope," Wellen said, "the twins came by to care for your critters. They showed me that monster of a fox you have. Impressive."
"Finished?"
"Almost. When I went to see the fox, I saw Beowulf and his braided mane."
Paul winced, "I have been meaning to take care of that."
"No need," the Captain responded, "I brushed the weaves out while I was waiting. Beowulf was disappointed you didn't take care of this sooner. He asked me to remind you that you're still on probation. If you are going to sleep in Paul, you are going to miss a lot." the Captain said a little smugly. "That was a good time last night, getting together like that."
"Yes, it was fun. Larene enjoyed herself. Although we may have to bury the clothes we wore. They reek of smoke."
"Speaking of clothes, Paul, maybe you can help me with something?"
"What's that?"
"Oh, well, Judith asked me how I thought she looked in her dress last night. I really didn't know how to answer her. She seemed disappointed."
Paul stood up and peeked through the window to see if Larene was within earshot. He pulled up his chair closer to the Captain's rocker. He bent over, clasping his hands, and looked earnestly up at his friend.
"You know what a landmine is?" Paul inquired.
"Certainly," replied the Captain, "the Chinese were making those as far back as the 13th century."
"Good, that's excellent," Paul said. "Now, when you think of a question from a woman about her appearance, think of a landmine. This is when you have to be very diplomatic."
The Captain took the last puff of his cigar, "Diplomacy… hmm, not exactly my gift, is it?"
"No, not so much, my friend, but you can learn. Judith is worth it."
Paul grabbed his medical bag, saddled up Beowulf, and rode off to the Stillwell farm. He set Violet's leg. Fortunately, it was a simple fracture. Her parents offered him a barter or cash. Paul took the money, as he was going to have to pay the barrel maker.
Larene was visited by Francis, who came by to get her stitches removed. With tiny scissors and tweezers, Larene removed the sutures. There remained only a fine line that followed her jaw. Francis looked in the mirror and beamed. She gave Larene a tremendous hug. Francis wasn't in a hurry to go home; she asked if she could help out around the house. Francis didn't have any older sisters, so Larene was someone she admired and envied a little. The house was a little bit of a disaster, and the two girls chatted and worked together like sisters. The mud trail to Paul's bedroom and the enjoined twin beds took some explaining. Francis could have cared less. She admired all of Larene's brushes, hand mirrors, combs, cosmetics, and a little vial of perfume. Larene brushed the girl's hair, put it up with a ribbon, showed her a little about applying makeup, and dabbed a drop of perfume on her wrist. The girl was elated.
Paul rode up to the barn. He removed Beowulf's saddle and blanket. Paul pumped a bucket of water and with a soft brush, he gave Beowulf a cool bath. Paul brushed him until his coat shined. Paul apologized to Beowulf; the pedigreed horse deserved better than Paul. He promised to be more attentive. He returned the animal to his stall.
Paul walked behind the house to the doors leading to his cellar. He looked at his cistern. He could see where it had been sealed and the bright shiny new hoop going around its circumference. Nice job, Paul thought. On the wood door to the cellar was an envelope tacked securely so you couldn't miss it. The envelope and paper were of a nice quality, Paul thought. He sat at his laboratory desk and picked up a silver letter opener, a gift from his mother. He used the silver blade to open the envelope. After reading the bill total, he knew how the barrel maker could afford such lovely stationary.
Larene and Paul quickly fell into a nice comfortable, but busy routine. Summer would be upon them before long. The gypsy clan would be leaving for their next town. Paul treated patients, performed research, and enjoyed the company of Larene. They spoke whimsically of marriage, travel, and children. They worked hard, slept late, and enjoyed the benevolence of their patients and neighbors. Villagers brought food, test subjects, and helped out with important chores. One more villager died of rabies and another was in isolation, waiting to die. Paul shared his partial success with his supporters. Together, through thoughtful research and aggressive testing, Larene and Paul developed serums that would extend the life of a rabies patient for days. He wasn't sure if this was the path to a cure. He seemed to have hit a ceiling with what he was working on.
It had taken a long time for the giant fox and the wolf to reach the more symptomatic stages of the disease. They would be good candidates for testing soon. One of his human patients, who was in the final throes of the disease, offered himself up as a test subject; as tempting as it was, it wouldn't have been fair or ethical.
Paul looked out of his bathroom window. It was midmorning. He watched as the twins led Angel and Beowulf out to the backfield. They stomped past the muddy area to a rickety gate that opened to an open field. The gate and the split rail fence were in such disrepair it was almost embarrassing, but it just never felt like an immediate priority. He watched as the girls removed the bridles and let the horses run free. For some reason, he had never given much thought as to the relationship between Angel and Beowulf. They ran together, pranced, reared up, shared grass, and nuzzled. The twin girls perched on the fence and watched. They are such majestic animals, he thought. The horses were feeling "frisky" this morning. Spring was in the air.
Paul made his way downstairs. Larene had gotten up much earlier. He poured a cup of strong coffee, grabbed a currant scone from a plate on the kitchen table, and headed off to the front porch. He sat in "his" chair and started planning his day. Larene came from around the side of the house at a brisk pace. She walked up the steps of the porch and with a big exhale, she dropped heavily into her chair. Her skin glistened with perspiration.
"Whew! I am glad THAT is finished." she said breathlessly. Paul quickly fetched her a big glass of cool water.
"I must look a mess" she said.
"You couldn't look bad if you tried," Paul said reassuringly. She patted his hand in gratitude. She had been moving critters and cages. By the look of her feet, she had buried the deceased test subjects.
"I am going to need some help getting that fox into the lab." she said, leaning back in her chair with her eyes closed. They sat for a long moment, enjoyed the sun and the light breeze. Even though they lived in a very rural area, if you listened hard, you could hear all kinds of interesting distant sounds.
"You know what we haven't tried?" Paul asked. It annoyed Larene just a little when he phrased a question like that. She would rather have him tell her directly without asking a question she couldn't answer.
"What's that, Paul?"
"Injections" Paul said, "We haven't varied the injection site. We always inject into the largest muscle group, near the hindquarters. I was wondering if the effectiveness of the serums would be improved if we administered the drug closer to the brain, the spine, or even an internal organ."
"Maybe," she said sleepily, "we have tried everything else."
"Not everything," Paul said under his breath, "not everything."
"We should give this monster a name." Larene said.
"You could," Paul replied, looking at the big fox cage, "but then you are at risk of becoming attached to it." Larene looked at the snarling creature in the cage.
"I don't think there is much chance of that happening."
The two contemplated and strategized just how they were going to get the cage safely into the laboratory.
"You shouldn't have threaten to make the Christie brothers lunch, because we could really use their help right now." Larene grimaced. They agreed on taking a pole, running it through the cage bars, lift the container and then carrying it down the stairs into the lab. They executed their plan perfectly. The tricky part was keeping the cage level as Paul descended the stairs. They set the cage on the floor, not far from the wolf's cage. They retracted the pole. The animal didn't seem too upset about the short trip. Both the wolf and the fox had been healthy and robust prior to being infected. That boosted their immunity system and bought them more time. They were tough, but now the end stage symptoms were beginning to become apparent.
Larene wiped the perspiration from her brow and smiled.
"I can't tell you how glad I am that is over with!" she said, straightening her dress with both hands.
What they had failed to notice was that the cage door latch had become dislodged during the move. The fox gently pushed the cage door out with its paw. The creature stepped out of its prison. They both stood still, paralyzed with fear and anticipation. Paul slowly and quietly picked up a pair of elbow length, heavy leather gloves that he had bought from the blacksmith. The fox was salivating heavily. The animal's breathing was labored and it growled faintly as it looked for a means of escape.
Unfortunately, Larene was standing between it and the steps leading to outdoor freedom. The suddenly enraged animal made a short 6 inch hop towards Larene. She instinctively held her hands out in front of her, to fend off an attack. The sudden move startled the animal and it lunged, leaping towards Larene with its jaws open wide, revealing white teeth and sharp, canine fangs. It happened so very fast, just a split second in time. There was nothing anyone could have done. In the blink of an eye, the fox had sunk its teeth into Larene's wrist. She screamed and stumbled backwards, trying not to fall. Paul grabbed ahold of the creature with his gloves, prying its mouth away from Larene's wrist. Paul pressed with all his strength on the joint where the lower jaw connected to the skull, which forced the animal to release its bite. He held on tight to the writhing monster. Paul threw it back into its cage and quickly secured the latch. He stood up to see Larene, in an apparent state of shock, holding her bleeding wrist, silently crying.