In Which Sometimes You've Just Got To Grit Your Teeth And Trust Joe With An Emotional Matter
Gerard never thought he was the fatherly type, but watching Macy mope around her apothecary, heart obviously broken into a million pieces, Gerard felt what could only be called a swell of paternal concern.
Macy sniffed, and Gerard clutched his fingers, unsure whether to go to her, whether she would care for his attentions, or whether they would make her feel worse.
His own stomach was roiling, like it was going out in sympathy with Macy's obvious pain. He turned as Joe pushed his way under the bell over the door to the tiny shop. "Gerard," Joe said by way of greeting. "I've seen to the Trelore boy, just a bad sprain."
"Joe!" Macy's brightness was brittle and sharp, and her eyes were too shiny. "Good day to you."
Gerard was put in mind of a scene he had witnessed at his parent's summer house - a lost duckling had tried to imprint on the groundsman's dog. Neither creature obviously wanted to harm the other, but neither quite knew what to make of the whole situation.
The duckling had died, Gerard remembered sharply. "I've just got one more patient," he said briskly. "A delicate and sensitive matter that the patient is loathed to disclose to anyone; in fact, it took me several days to have him even tell me, so I think it's best if you stay behind this time." He accepted the brown-wrapped package from Macy. "However, perhaps if you ask nicely, Miss Macy might be persuaded to show you how to make her famous headache cure?"
He beat a hasty retreat, and stopped at the corner to look back. Through the grubby front window, he saw Joe's shadowy figure approach the counter and be admitted.
Hopefully the physician in the boy would see the ailment and provide the appropriate remedy, and not make things worse.