After Oz by Gordon McAlpine

After Oz by Gordon McAlpine

Author:Gordon McAlpine [McAlpine, Gordon]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: CROOKED LANE BOOKS
Published: 0101-01-01T00:00:00+00:00


DR. WARD

I began at the office of Sunbonnet’s doctor, Edmund Ward. It made sense to start there, I reasoned. By doing so I might identify myself in the eyes of the town as a selfless Samaritan like Clara Barton, consulting on a matter of medicine, and not a threatening cosmopolitan like Irene Adler, operating on a secret agenda. Adler’s a character in a Sherlock Holmes story … have you read it?

I can’t say as yet how well the ruse worked. Not well, I suspect.

“It’s a pleasure to meet you, Dr. Wilford,” he said, rising from behind his desk as I entered the private office of his small medical practice.

“Enchanté.” I placed my hand in his. I was unsure then, as I remain unsure now, why I resorted to speaking French just then. It was the last sort of impression I’d intended to project. I hadn’t planned it. Perhaps Dr. Ward’s dark, deeply set eyes, white mustaches, well-trimmed Van Dyke beard, high collar, and cravat conjured an image of Hugo or the aged Delacroix. Being more nervous in my endeavor than I wanted to appear, I may have replied automatically, succumbing to mere association rather than method or deliberation. I instantly knew that I must be more composed with the others if I was going to accomplish my task.

“Parlez-vous français?” Dr. Ward asked.

“Oui.”

“Well, that won’t get you very far around here,” he answered. “Sit down, my dear.”

If I was going to err, it felt fortuitous that I’d done so with Dr. Ward. He seems to possess in ample measure an inborn, reassuring bedside manner. I understood immediately why townsfolk trusted him (although our conversation did take a few acrimonious turns). Is a man who possesses such a gift for empathy capable of being a coldly calculating murderer? I rule no one out.

“You’ve come a long way, Dr. Wilford.”

“Yes, it’s been a fascinating journey.”

“Please tell me what you saw.”

“Saw?”

“On the train coming west.”

I mentioned the endless miles of ripe wheat, flowering pastures, pale yellow cornfields, wilting oak groves, country towns, brilliant skies, gold ribbons of sunflowers stretching across the prairie, and entire counties that had been stripped bare and were now as gray as sheet iron.

“Do you travel, Dr. Ward?” I asked.

“It’s been a decade since I traveled more than thirty miles from this spot.” He straightened papers on his desktop. “Accident, illness, and misadventure do not take time off in Sunbonnet. So I’m rarely able to do so either.”

“It’s a demanding profession, Dr. Ward.”

“It’s my job. And what precisely is your job, Dr. Wilford?”

I summarized my research and subsequent interest in quintessential elements of the otherworldly story that Dorothy claims as truth. I clarified the question that drove my thesis: Might elements or characters from a patient’s dreams or hallucinations provide coded but sublime clues to the deepest quarters of a patient’s mind? I didn’t go into detail. Dr. Ward expressed great interest in the psychological aims of my work. While he is not cognizant concerning recent developments in the field, particularly those of the past decade, he shows a professional interest in human nature.



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