The Mark of Merlin

CHAPTER TWELVE

Regan Laird was right to get me busy with the mechanics of daily routine. We fetched in the groceries and put them away. I noticed numbly that he had found Idaho baking potatoes and this put me in mind of Robert DeLord and his mission. I put that out of my mind and washed and put the potatoes in to bake. I made a hearty meat loaf, vaguely wondering at all the stamps such a generous amount had taken. The major had brought in fresh cod and flounder but I was tired of fish. There were some fresh vegetables and oranges. I didn’t examine the canned goods closely, except the dogfood.

“I didn’t have much choice for Merlin,” the major said apologetically.

“I know.”

We were both marking time until DeLord got back. I wondered idly, anything to think about but DeLord and

I wondered why Evans had been so certain a vet would come to this point off the coast of nowhere for any dog, much less a civilian’s. The major busied himself by bringing in more and more wood and spending lots of time policing the fireplaces. I made beds and straightened rooms, pretending that Turtle’s belonged to someone else. Then, as darkness was falling on the snow-bright world, there was no more busy work to be done. I sat down at the kitchen table near my dog and folded my hands in my lap.

The major came in with one more, unnecessary load of wood and shed his outer clothes.

“Say,” he began as he pulled up a chair to the table, “what did you find in the locker? Anything valuable?”

I looked at him blankly and then twisted around, wondering where the locker was.

“That’s funny. It was here in the room.”

“Yes, but did you find anything in it?”

“You just bet we did. Ancient Bibles, hundreds of years old, some absolutely unique French Colonial stamps, and guess what was in those cartridge boxes?”

“What?”

“Jewels stuck in dud shells and a boxful of gold and jeweled crosses.”

The major whistled expressively. I got up, peered out into the corridor, rummaged in the back porch, ducked my head into the study.

“I don’t understand it.”

“Think back, Carlysle. You say you went to the door? Had you finished with the footlocker?”

“Almost. Most of the stuff was back in for lack of a better place to put it.”

“Bailey and DeLord stayed in the kitchen when you went to the door, then? Long enough to clear the rest?”

“I think so. But where could they have put it then?”

“Did the MPs come into the kitchen at all?”

I closed my eyes to concentrate. I saw Turtle come to the door of the dining room, stand, crouch, turn, to be blocked by the lieutenant. Then the MPs came up, DeLord stayed in the doorway until Turtle went to get his coat from the back hall. One of the MPs must have gone with him but that’s when Beatty got so nasty. Then .”

“Beatty got nasty? How?” demanded the major and I realized I’d rehearsed that scene out loud.

“Just nasty,” I said, waving aside his interruption. “Then Turtle went with them. No, I’d gone to Turtle but I didn’t think to look in the kitchen. Yes, and the lieutenant showed them his papers and asked to come along. They agreed he could so he went to get his things. He took the Colt along, too.”

“When I drove up,” the major said thoughtfully, looking at me out of one corner of his eye, “you were at the door, Merlin was snarling, and Beatty was on the front stoep.”

“I’m only sorry Merlin was so weak,” I said with regret.

“So what happened to the locker?”

“There was no one else in the house. No one came in the back because Merlin would have warned me.”

“Well, somehow, between the time you went to the door and the time the MPs got in here, the locker got stashed away.”

Merlin growled, his head up, ears alert. I let out a disgusted breath.

“Oh, now what?”

The major turned quickly to me, a half smile on his face.

“That sounds more like my ward.”

We both went to check, of one mind on the advisability of screening visitors to this house. Merlin’s growl rumbled after us and cut off with a yip.

“Down, Merlin. Stay!” I ordered. He whined a protest but stayed.

A wood-paneled station wagon cautiously slowed to a halt on the snowy road. It appeared distorted, top-heavy. The slit lights went off and we saw the over-tall door open. No one emerged. The door hung ajar. Then a figure got out and seemed to keep on standing up like a cartoon drawing unexpectedly elongating. The door was closed and as the shadow of the tall figure separated from the shadow of the top-heavy car, we could see a familiar medical case swinging from the end of one long, long arm.

“The vet did come,” and I think I was as surprised as the major sounded.

He hastily opened the front door and, for all his own six-foot odd of height, he had to look up at the tall, tall man who entered.

“Major Laird?” an unexpectedly tenor voice asked.

“Dr. Karsh.”

“Have we met?” and the voice was unusually musical with no trace of a down-east accent.

“No, but I’ve heard of you.”

“Hmm. Wouldn’t doubt it for a minute.”

Merlin barked.

“My patient is in good voice.”

Merlin yipped because he had disobeyed me.

“Spoke too soon.”

The veterinarian ducked under the archway separating hall and dining room. I backed up instinctively so as not to have to crook my neck to see his face.

“My ward, Carlysle Murdock. Merlin is hers.”

“Quite a beast, I’m told. Twice told, young lady. Once by an excited coastguardsman of my acquaintance and once by a lieutenant, a calmer man but equally insistent that I should come.”

He swooshed his bag at me to indicate I should lead him to his patient. I scurried ahead into the kitchen.

Merlin got to his feet and stood there, swaying slightly, the major’s bandage bloody.

“Merlin, if you weren’t so sick, I’d beat you. You were told to stay.”

Ashamed, Merlin dropped his head, peering up at me with a woeful expression in his eyes. Then he jerked his head up, his jaw dropping as his dog face registered surprise.

“Ooooh,” and the doctor’s voice was a croon of delighted interest. “Now you are a magnificent fellow. You are indeed.”

The doctor’s voice was a marvelous singsong. He ignored us completely, heaving his bag to set it with a very soft plump on the kitchen table, although it must have been very heavy. Then he dropped to his knees by Merlin in a fluid movement. He didn’t attempt to touch the shepherd but he bent this way and that so he could see Merlin’s points in the undiffused kerosene light.

“What a dog! What a superb dog! Have you any idea, Merlin, what a sight you are to these tired eyes?”

Merlin was watching him, absolutely mesmerized.

“He’s hypnotized Merlin,” the major whispered, bending his head to my ear.

“I’ve never seen Merlin behave like this with anyone,” I murmured back, not wishing to interrupt this significant meeting.

Dr. Karsh placed his long-fingered hand under Merlin’s chin, his over-length thumb stroking the soft fur of the muzzle. Merlin’s eyes drooped sleepily, his head leaning into the supporting hand much as a tired child will cradle himself against his mother. With his free hand, the doctor explored Merlin’s body, the deep chest, the long back, the well-placed hips.

“Will you clear the table?” the doctor crooned, not changing his voice one decibel from the tone he was using to soothe Merlin. It took me a moment to realize he was talking to the humans in the room. The major and I jumped to his bidding.

With a deftness and speed that was an astonishing blend of individual motions, Dr. Karsh had lifted Merlin and placed him on his good side.

“The lights, so and so,” the doctor directed, waving fingers at two distinct levels. We complied.

“Now, young fellow me lad, let’s get a look at this outrage on one of nature’s grandest. As the lieutenant said, his was rough field surgery but I think he did extremely well. It’s only that you do not obey your mistress’ order to stay.” The major and I found we had to pay close attention to this dialogue, delivered in a rippling Irish tenor-like tessitura, for sometimes he was talking only to Merlin and sometimes to us. The doctor had by now washed his hands thoroughly and donned rubber gloves.

“Now this will not be pleasant, my sagacious friend Merlin, - a marvelous name for a magnificent specimen of Canis familiaris. I congratulate you, young Miss Carla,” and he paused briefly to prepare his curved needle with black gut, “on your perspicacity in seeing in a bumbling puppy the dignity of the adult dog to come. Or perhaps you created a personality for him to grow up to . Steady, this will hurt but not for long. There! Merlin is a sensible creature and knows that my hurt will cure . By eschewing the Rover-Chief-Rin-tin-tin mania, you gave him a goal of wisdom to acquire. For Merlin was a great magician and there is magic in the heart of a dog when he will defend his against the mechanical madnesses of men. Oh, one more and the worst of my ministrations are over. You can do yourself no more damage, my silver shepherd. This wound will heal, given God’s good time and what appears to be a superb constitution. There. Good boy! Not a word out of you. Brave lad.”

Dr. Karsh straightened, having bent double to work, interminably it seemed to me, on his patient. The shadows of the kerosene lamps jumped around as his upward ascent caused a draft. The doctor took two long strides to the sink and stripped off the gloves. He had to stand sideways as he did not fit under the canopy across the sink. As I hurriedly got him a towel, still speechless, I realized I came only to his belt. I hastily backed away. Way up, he smiled down at me as he handed back the towel. Then he turned and scooped Merlin up again, depositing him on his quilts, giving the dog a stern signal to stay. Merlin licked his chops, whined very softly, rolled to his good side, sighed, and fell asleep.

Dr. Karsh stood staring down at his patient and, pivoting in place, favored us with his full attention.

“Evans was right to say I should see Merlin myself. I do not mean to imply,” he hastily assured me in his mellifluous way, “that the dog is in any danger. But, my dear, I have been searching for such an animal no, no not to deprive you of his company, but as fit mate for a lovely young thing of my own. I had despaired of ever matching her size and color, not to mention her temperament for she is, above all, amiable and affectionate. Evans knew at a glance that Merlin was the dog to husband her. I am grateful to him.”

“I’d be willing, very willing, Dr. Karsh,” I answered breathlessly. My voice, which I had always considered rather light and childish in tone, sounded unexpectedly harsh in contrast to his. “I’d be delighted. I never thought you’d actually come so far on such a miserable day.”

“My dear, I serve the animal needs of this community and my patients rarely can come to me. They are not your pampered bench pets in shows. They are working beasts and when they are ill, they need me,” he said simply. He started to leave. “My word, I am so forgetful. The lieutenant who called to add an unnecessary but concerned plea that I attend brave Merlin asked me to tell you he will be back tomorrow. He said to say that something unusual has developed that he must check out. I trust his cryptic message reassures you. His tone was confident. I know I remembered his phrasing right, once I remembered I was to tell you something.”

“Yes, yes, thank you,” I assured him, bemused.

He started to bend out of the room.

“Keep him as quiet as you can. And major, for his comfort, carry him outside soon. By morning, he’ll be no worse for wear.”

And he was leaving. The major and I started after him but, with his long strides, he was out the front door before we could cross the dining room. “He’ll know when he’s well enough to be active. Feed him what he wants. I’ll look in later this week, never fear, to feast my eyes again on a fine, fine dog.”

He said these last words as he telescoped back into his car. Both the major and I stood, half dazed on the front step, oblivious to the cold, as he drove off slowly, in second gear, up the snowy road.

“He’s unbelievable,” I muttered. It was the sight of my breath in the cold that broke the spell. I moved out of the doorway and the major closed it, hurrying me by the arm back into the kitchen.

“I’d heard about him but I didn’t believe it until now,” the major said, slowly shaking his head.

“Merlin just let him sew him up,” I exclaimed.

“I think I would, too,” the major admitted with a bemused chuckle.

“I can’t get over Merlin just letting him. The man’s a genius,” I said dazedly, and went to check the dinner in the oven. “Did you notice his car?”

“What about it?”

“It was top-heavy.”

“It’d have to be for that beanpole.”

“How can you say that?”

“Don’t get your back up. Stands to reason he wouldn’t fit in a regular car.”

“He doesn’t fit, period. He’s unique. You said you’d heard about him?”

The major had poured himself a drink, offering me one which I declined. He settled himself at the table while I set our places.

“He’s one of the local legends.”

“He hasn’t got a local accent.”

“Educated. I don’t have one either and I’ve lived around here all my life.”

I said nothing but the major obviously hadn’t heard himself speak. Still he didn’t have much of an accent.

“In Orleans?” I asked hastily. “Summers. Winters in Waltham.”

“And you’d never seen Dr. Karsh?”

“At a distance. Never been introduced.”

“Are there other vets around?”

“No, just never had any reason to call one.”

I stared at him. “Didn’t you have a dog as a boy?”

He grinned at me and the expression, distorted by the scar, reminded me I had all but forgotten his wound. He sensed the distraction and his smile faded. He leaned back, his bad side hidden in the shadows.

“No,” and his voice was flat with a return of the cold cautious neutrality that had marked his manner towards me until just recently. I felt ill that I had been so gauche.

“Maybe one of Merlin’s pups?” I tendered in a small voice.

He looked at me, quick to sense this obtuse apology for my unintentional offense. He thawed.

“I’m sorry, Carlysle. You didn’t deserve that of me. I’ve come to understand, in a way I never would have before, why Karsh prefers the quiet life here where people are so used to him they no longer notice his extreme height. He’s accepted in a community that would defend him to a man against outsiders’ curiosity. And he is a downright genius with animals. I knew that long before I heard a mutter about his size.” He took a long pull at his drink. “It was all so easy when I thought you were a boy. It wouldn’t be wrong to bury you down here along with me for a few months. But it won’t work out now!” He drank again, his mood bitter.

I sank into the chair by him, just listening because I couldn’t think of a thing to say although there was much I’d’ve liked to say.

“I’ll have to reopen the house in Waltham and get a housekeeper.” A return to Waltham appeared to be exceedingly distasteful to him.

“But you’ve lived a long time there? Surely they know you,” I suggested, implying that his friends and acquaintances certainly wouldn’t avoid him because of his scars.

His lips compressed into a thin line and I knew I was wrong. He drained the glass.

“Oh! How could they!” I cried angrily.

His glass came down to the surface of the table with a loud crack. He splashed in more whiskey, moodily swirling it around the ice cubes.

“I never considered I was particularly vain before this,” and for the first time in our acquaintance, he fingered the scarred side of his face. “But then, war changes a lot of values.”

“You’re going to Walter Reed soon and they’ll be .”

He glared at me, opened his mouth to snap something out, and stopped.

“They might even improve on the original,” I suggested ruthlessly, suddenly conscious that sympathy was the worst comfort I could offer him. “Your nose is a bit too aquiline. While they’re about it, can’t they reduce that hook?” I reached over and tapped his very aristocratic nose disparagingly. “I think you might possibly be able to achieve a Robert Taylor, smooth, suave look of distinction. Or perhaps the rough-hewed Gary Cooper type. You haven’t got the basic structure for Cary Grant, of course. And next time, do get a proper haircut. The length is disgraceful,” and I flipped up the long hair that covered the baldness of the scar tissue.

His fingers caught my wrist in such a vise I thought he’d break bones. The anger in him was white hot and I glared right back at him, daring him, knowing the anger he would vent on me was anger suppressed from whatever hurt he had suffered elsewhere.

The fury drained out of him. He closed his eyes and shook his head, breathing deeply to disperse the inner tension. His fingers loosened but he didn’t release my wrist. When he opened his eyes again, his face had cleared of both bitterness and anger.

“I’d forgotten an incident I should always remember,” he said in a low normal voice. “When I was in the hospital out in the Newtons, a woman came into the ward. We were facial injuries, all of us. I was not the worst one by a long shot. There was a fighter pilot who’d had-” he broke off. “She was a good-looking woman and obviously had plenty of money. I remember she swept in with furs, smelling of fine perfume, every hair on her head in place. She was everything none of us wanted any part of. Not the way we looked. Well, she introduced herself and then proceeded to take off her hair, take out her teeth, and pass around photos of herself before and after her accident, before and after surgery.”

He swallowed, his face still. Then he looked at me. “There wasn’t a man in that ward, with the exception of that pilot, who wasn’t better off than she had been. God, her face had been sliced and mashed cruelly. And there she was, looking like a goddamned junior league virgin. She spent the whole afternoon with us, talking. She made us feel her face where the grafts had healed, showed us the tiny scars in her hairline. She told us this could be done to us, too. And she said go ahead and make any improvements we wanted, just for laughs. When that lady left, every one of us stood up and saluted her. She didn’t have to come, she didn’t have to do what she did but she came often. There’s all kinds of courage in the world.”

He picked up my wrist in both hands and gently stroked the angry marks his fingers had made.

“Thanks, Carlysle, for reminding me of her.”

“Any time,” I said lightly, because I was embarrassed and flustered by his confidence. I felt I had learned more about Major Regan Laird in the past few moments than I’d discovered in the last few days.

Merlin stirred in his sleep, his feet twitching in the urgency of some dream sequence.

“God, I’d better get him outside,” the major said, rising.

“When that’s taken care of, dinner will be ready.”