Free An Honest Heart by Kaye Dacus

next patient. “How much would you like to learn to read? How hard would you be willing to work?”
    The boy’s eyes, which always looked too old for the young face, lit up. “I’d do anything.”
    “Good. Then ask your father’s permission to visit me in the early evenings, after your chores are done and if your mother gives you leave. I may not always be in, but if I am, I will teach you to read.”
    Johnny leapt up, arms raised, and whooped.
    “But if I hear you are not keeping up with your responsibilities at home, the lessons will end. Understand?”
    The dire tone of Neal’s voice had no effect on the young man’s excitement.
    Neal hid his amusement. “Off with you now.” He waited until Johnny trotted off a few yards before turning and knocking on his patient’s door.
    After lancing some boils at one home, setting a child’s broken arm in another, and mixing a concoction to help soothe the sore throats of a family of nine, Neal checked in on a few more families in Jericho, then headed back to North Parade. He traversed the distance quickly. Along the way, he returned the greetings of the people he’d come to recognize over the past several days of plying his trade in the poor area not quite a mile beyond his chosen neighborhood of residence.
    He stopped at the greengrocer before going home. Setting his bag on the floor, he leaned back on the counter, crossing one ankle over the other, observing the customers milling about.
    Unusually, Mrs. Howell was not in the shop. Mr. Howell, though, came over as soon as he saw Neal, greeting him with a handshake.
    “What’s the news?” Howell asked, mimicking Neal’s pose.
    “Nothing to report. A few minor cases, but nothing to be concerned about. How is Mrs. Howell?” Neal’s gaze followed an older man who hobbled between baskets containing fruits and vegetables straight from the hothouses of several nearby estates. The way the man favored his feet led Neal to believe he suffered from gout.
    “She is well, thank you. I shall tell her you inquired. She is visiting with Mrs. Bainbridge at the moment.”
    Neal’s interest piqued. “Did Mrs. Bainbridge come here alone?” Though she lived only a few dozen yards from the store, Mrs. Bainbridge should not be walking alone in her condition.
    “She walked with her nurse’s arm for support. She was a bit out of breath, but once she sat for a few minutes, she seemed to regain her strength easily enough. She managed the stairs just fine.” Howell straightened and acknowledged one of his customers with a nod. “Please excuse me, Doctor.”
    Neal continued leaning against the counter, but he glanced over his shoulder at the door he knew hid the stairwell to the family’s quarters above the shop.
    Howell headed back his direction, and Neal pushed himself upright. “Do you think the ladies would mind if I called on them? I should like to pay my respects to your wife.”
    “The missus would appreciate that, I am certain.”
    Another exchanged handshake, and Neal picked up his bag and went upstairs. He set the kit on the floor in the hall outside the sitting room, then knocked on the door.
    “Yes?”
    “Mrs. Howell, it is Neal Stradbroke. May I come in?”
    “Oh yes, please do.”
    He pushed the door open. Mary, the nurse, looked up at him from a straight chair beside the door, then went back to reading her book.
    Mrs. Howell rose and ushered him into the room, offering him the chintz-covered armchair beside Mrs. Bainbridge. Their hostess regained her seat on the settee across the low tea table from them.
    “May I offer you a cup, Dr. Stradbroke?” Mrs. Howell reached for the teapot.
    “No, thank you, ma’am. I cannot stay long. But I could not stop in without greeting you. And you, also, Mrs. Bainbridge, when I heard you were here.”
    Cadence’s mother beamed at him. She did indeed look much better than she had just yesterday. “Why, such a compliment, Doctor. I am honored.”
    He let the ladies engage him