The Doctor and the Dead Man's Chest Read Online Free Page B

refueling before going on with the tour,” she said.
    â€œMy housekeeper, Agatha Jenks,” Lydia said.
    While the others helped themselves, Fenimore drew Lydia aside. “Are you sure you’re all right? You seemed nervous … .”
    â€œI’m perfectly fine, Andrew.”

    CHAPTER 6
    W hile the guests, including the cardiologist, polished off the refreshments as if calories and cholesterol were back in style, Lydia finally introduced everyone. The bald, portly man turned out to be Amory Barnes, Lydia’s assistant at the Colonial Society. The lean, sullen youth was Tom Winston, a distant cousin who had his own farm down the road. (Fenimore remembered that the area had been settled by two families—the Winstons and the Ashleys—and there was no love lost between them.) The bird-like woman was Alice Cunningham, director and librarian at the Winston Historical Society. And of course the Reverend Percy, alias Oliver, wore his own two hats: minister at St. Stephen’s Church and headmaster of the boys’ school.
    â€œIn colonial times, this farm was called a ‘plantation’ because it was self-sufficient,” Lydia resumed her narrative. “Everything necessary to sustain life was either grown, raised, or made on the property … .”
    â€œSounds like our malls today,” interrupted Oliver, raising a chuckle or two.
    â€œFlax was grown for thread and later spun and woven into cloth,” Lydia continued. “Corn was planted and harvested to make
bread and many other dishes—like the ones you’ve just sampled here. Cows and pigs were raised and butchered … .” She paused. Fenimore held his breath. With an effort, she went on.
    â€œIt was the custom for colonial women to keep diaries. And Jonathan’s wife, Hannah, was no exception.” Lydia took a small leather bound book from a collection of crumbling volumes on the windowsill and began to read, “‘On the days the Butchering took place, I retired to my Room and did not emerge until it was over.’”
    Lydia turned the book around so her audience could see the faded brown script with its capitalized nouns. “On the back wall of the barn you may still see the iron hooks …” she faltered. Fenimore moved toward her, but she managed to go on, “ … where the carcasses of pigs and cows were hung after they were slaughtered. Below the hooks there was a stone trough which caught the blood that drained from the butchered animals.”
    The librarian wrinkled her nose in distaste.
    Lydia continued reading, a little faster, “‘I call this Place behind the Barn, “Gehenna,”’ Hannah wrote. ‘The Name comes from the Old Testament and means a Place of Abomination .’”
    â€œI looked up ‘Gehenna,’” Lydia said, “and found this.” She read from a slip of paper, “‘A valley near Jerusalem where all kinds of refuse was left and fires burned day and night to prevent pestilence.’”
    â€œSounds like our city dumps,” offered Amory.
    Fenimore was surprised to hear Lydia suggesting that they step outside to look at the barn. He shivered, although the house was warm.
    Horatio was the first one out. He ran down to the river’s edge and began skipping stones. You didn’t have to be a country boy to know how to do that. It was instinctive. Resisting the impulse to join him, Fenimore reluctantly followed the others toward the barn. Amory strolled beside him. “Lydia tells me you’re planning to write a new article for our Quarterly ,” he said. “May I ask what aspect of colonial medicine you’ll be tackling this time?”

    Fenimore couldn’t help warming to this friendly man who took an interest in his writing. “I thought ‘Mariner Medicine’ might be a good topic.”
    â€œWhat an interesting idea.”
    Actually, he had just thought of it.