Douglas tried to think of something else to say to make her stay a little longer. He liked looking at her up close. Hundreds of parishioners circled about, but Douglas sought to carve out this private moment with her. From his pew at church, he often stared at her hands, her fingers lean and strong like a pianist’s. Her physical hesitations—the apparent nervousness—appealed to him strongly; she was quiet but vibrant in her feeling. And when she sang, his heart clutched at her sound. In her yellow robe with its black sleeve stripes and trim, she resembled a monarch butterfly—fluttering and resisting flight. At this proximity, her skin was the color of light cream, and there were no lines in her face. Her figure was still girlish.
“Casey must have told you,” Douglas said. He would talk to her about Ella’s wedding. That would be a safe topic.
“Hmm?” Leah looked at him, not knowing what to say.
“The wedding? Did Casey. . . ?”
Leah shook her head slowly, still saying nothing. How could she tell him that she hadn’t spoken to her own daughter in six months?
It was clear that she was puzzled. “We sent you the invitation for Ella’s wedding. I think Ella mailed it on Thursday, or was it Monday?” He was not good with dates. His office manager governed his schedule in a way that he could just show up and not have to recall very much of life’s logistics.
Leah finally spoke. “Oh, I didn’t know. That’s so nice for Ella. And you. You must be so pleased. Congratulations.”
Douglas waved this off. “No. It’s so nice of your daughter to help Ella so much. How proud you must be of her. She’s a wonderful—”
Leah frowned, denying the compliment as politely as she could. It wasn’t appropriate to agree with another person’s flattering assessment of your child. But why was he saying this?
“She seems to like her job,” Douglas said.
“Have you seen her recently?” Leah asked, trying to sound calm.
“Yes,” Douglas exclaimed. “She didn’t tell you?”
Leah shook her head, hoping that the elder would believe that Casey could forget to mention something like that.
“I had dinner with Casey and Ella the other night. Tuesday?” Douglas made a face, unsure of the date. “Anyway, it was after we went to visit the wedding hall. Ted—” He stopped himself. “My future son-in-law. . .”
Leah nodded vigorously, wanting him to continue.
“He works with Casey. At Kearn Davis.”
She’d heard of it.
“I don’t think they work together, but I think they’re in the same building.”
“How?” she asked. How did this come to be?
“Ted helped Casey get an interview. She didn’t say?” Douglas managed to sound as if he weren’t judging her.
Leah cast her eyes down, pretending she’d forgotten—to make it her fault for not having said something earlier. This was in Leah’s nature, to take the blame for things. “That was so kind of your daughter. To ask. To ask her fiancé to help Casey. That was so good. Thank you for helping my daughter,” she said. In all the years she’d known the doctor, this was their longest conversation.
“Don’t thank me. I didn’t do anything. And knowing Ted. . .” Douglas paused, trying to think of the right way to speak of his daughter’s future husband. “I don’t think he would’ve gotten Casey an interview unless she was more than qualified.”
The doctor did not like the groom. Leah could see that.
“Are you cold?” he asked her. The deaconess was hugging herself; her hands and arms were hidden inside her sleeves.
Leah withdrew her hands, feeling self-conscious and childish. She was bewildered by this news. Casey had phoned a few times to say she was fine—this was what Tina had said. When pressed, Tina had said, her voice full of resentment, “Casey’s a big girl. She can take care of herself.”
Douglas observed the deaconess’s silence as if she were a patient coming by for an initial consultation. A patient told you things about herself more by the way she sat and in the way she looked at you than by what she verbalized. That was Bedside Manner 101. It was important to know this, because patients lied. Nearly always because they were ashamed. You had to look at a patient’s face, her eyes, the way her eyelids twitched or didn’t. Her hands and mouth revealed things, too. Your diagnosis depended on it and, consequently, the patient’s health. Leah’s face looked calm enough, but her dark eyes expressed tremendous anxiety. She hadn’t known that her daughter was Ella’s bridesmaid. How was that? he wondered. Why?