December 22, 1900
Dr. Francis C. Wilson’s Office,
Continued from here.
I climbed the stairs and paused at the top; my heart was pounding. I closed my eyes, and counted to ten; rubbed the center of my chest. Touched the liquor flask hidden in my coat pocket. After a few moments, I was calm.
As I walked down the hall, I noticed three other offices in the second-floor hallway; an insurance broker, two lawyers. Father’s office was in the front of the building overlooking the street.
I heard male voices in spirited conversation inside; one was Father’s. I hesitated; my hand on the door knob. Get a grip, I told myself.
I took a breath, then opened the door.
It was a two-room office, simple but well appointed. The room had a small settee and a desk with a lamp, and a file cabinet behind the desk. There was a small plant on top of the file cabinet next to the window. A nurse was seated at desk; she glanced up from the papers in front of her. She recognized me.
“Good afternoon, Emmett. How are you?”
“Fine, Miss Tharpe.”
She stood up. “Would you like to see your father? I’ll let him know you are here.”
“Is he in with a patient?”
“No. Just a moment.” She knocked gently on the door, then opened it, excusing herself.
“Dr. Wilson, one of your sons is here to see you.”
“Thank you, Tharpe. Send him in.”
The nurse stood aside as I passed through, then closed the door behind me.
“Well, Emmett. Here you are. How was your trip from Tallahassee?” Father stood up and shook hands with me.
“Fine, thank you.”
Father is tall, stately, dignified. He has a calm, noble bearing; always unflappable, impassive, regardless of what’s happening, regardless of emergency, when all Hell is breaking out around him. If I had one word to describe him, it would be consistent. I think that’s why he has such a large, loyal patient base. He knows how to put people at ease. He’s always been that way with everyone. But me.
I’ve always thought Father resembled his old commander, Robert E. Lee: Father is bald on top with a fringe of white hair circling his head from ear-to-ear, with white mustaches and a beard. Father served loyally under Lee at Appomattox. Indeed, Father venerated Lee as a personal hero, unconsciously modeling himself after the old general, who had had a reputation of being unflappable in the face of danger and distress.
A friendly, jovial, Irish voice blurted out behind me: “Well, Emmett, it is good to see you!”
Father nodded cordially at his friend, who stood beaming at me, his hand outstretched to take mine.
“Hello Walter,” I said, clasping his hand.
Walter Kehoe is my brother Cephas’ law partner in Marianna and a long-time family friend, although it has been several months since I’ve seen him.
Walter is one of the most important lawyers and politicians in West Florida; he is also Cephas’ closest, most trusted friend. Walter often refers to me as his younger brother though we are not related at all. Regardless of the fact he is always busy, and involved in serious and important issues, Walter has always taken time to talk to me about everyday things. I’ve never asked him for advice or help with anything, but I know that if I ever needed it, he would be there for me, no questions asked.
Walter is truly brilliant. Even Cephas is in awe of Walter’s intelligence, which is saying something, because Cephas is often too busy thinking about himself. Don’t get me wrong: Cephas is very smart, too. But with Walter, the brilliance is innate; his practice of the law feels completely natural, comfortable, and effortless. The other thing about Walter is that he wants to become a U.S. Congressman. And it will probably happen. “He may not be very quick about it, and he can be irritatingly deliberate,” Ceph once told me, “but if he wants something, he doesn’t let anything stand in the way.”
Father gestures at me. “Have a seat, Emmett. Care for something to drink?” Father and Walter both had half glasses of Irish whiskey on the desk.
“No, thank you,” I said.
Father nodded; gives me a brief smile of approval. I involuntarily exhale — I didn’t realize I was holding my breath. I quickly glance over at Walter; he pretends to study his glass of whiskey instead of observing the dynamic between Father and me, but I know he was watching. Walter doesn’t miss much.
“How long will you be in Chipley?” I ask Walter.
“I’m heading back this evening. Ceph has been busy doling out political favors this week, and not getting much done in the way of law,” he answered with a chuckle; Dr. Wilson gave his rare, tense smile in his white beard, nodding with satisfaction. Ceph had just been nominated for a second term as Florida state senator, and had been traveling the circuit this week.
In Father’s eyes, Cephas could do no wrong. With all of his political experience and connections, I think my brother would also be a good U.S. Congressman, but Cephas doesn’t want to leave Florida. Besides, Cephas has a reputation as a philanderer. I think that my sister-in-law, Lula, who has been publicly embarrassed by his antics more than once has put her foot down about Cephas going to Washington.
“How is Minnie’s stenography business? I understand she’s quite successful and busy these days,” Father asked.
“Fine. She’s busier than ever, and is even thinking about a turn at the bar herself, one of these days.” Now it was Walter’s turn to be proud. His sister Minnie had written a bill – a unique piece of legislation – to secure regular compensation for court stenographers, and to enable counsel to have the services of a stenographer in serious cases other than capital ones (which had been a problem in Florida courts). This was remarkable for a woman who was not a lawyer.
Minnie was smart, driven, progressive, and was keen on making her own way in the world, without being dependent on a husband, or father. Minnie was carving out a career slowly, surely, and against all odds. Everyone was in awe of her; encouraging her, but not really coming right out and supporting her. The idea of a woman lawyer was still too odd, foreign; it had the taste of Yankee corruption, although that was the furthest thing you could think of to describe Minnie. She was a lady; she was aggressive, but not obnoxious about it. We were all watching to see if she would make it or not. I secretly hoped she would; if Minnie could make it, against those odds, I knew I could too.
“And what about you, Emmett?” Walter said, kindly, changing the subject. “How is school?”
“Staying busy with lessons, or are there too many female distractions?”
I blushed and looked away from both of them and fidgeted with the button on my jacket sleeve. “No, no distractions,” I said, a little uncomfortably. Both Father and Walter chuckled.
“Too busy with schoolwork, are you?”
“Yes. Busier than I expected. But I like it very much.”
Father nodded. “We expect big things from Emmett once he graduates from school. He has a lot of intelligence; he’s a quick learner and thoughtful. I think he’d do well running a pharmacy for me, once he’s out of school,” he added.
I look up quickly, surprised: First at the unaccustomed praise coming from Father, publicly like that – and then, I felt my stomach plummet when I realized what he said.
“Oh, you are pursuing a business degree?” Walter asked, interested.
“Well…” I started, glancing first at Father, then Walter, still a bit in shock at Father’s comment.
There was a quick knock at the door, followed by Nurse Tharpe opening it.
“Excuse me, gentlemen. A patient is here to see you, Dr. Wilson, and it seems serious. Can you see him?”
Father stood up, reached over to the coat rack to put his suit jacket on to receive the patient. “Yes, Tharpe. Give us just a minute here, please.”
“Yes, doctor,” Tharpe said, closing the door behind her.
“I’m sorry Walter,” Father said.
“No need to apologize, Frank,” Walter said, as he shook Father’s hand. “We’ll be on our way.”
“Please give my regards to Jennie; we’ll see you on Christmas Day for dinner and festivities,” Father said, as he buttoned his jacket.
“Indeed you will,” Walter said, warmly. “Come, Emmett,” he said, as we moved to the door. “We can walk and talk as I head over to the station to wait for the next train out.”
“Goodbye, Father,” I said, before I walked out with Walter.
Father nodded, and turned back to his desk to prepare for the incoming patient.
Walter and I exited the building, and we walked together, without speaking, toward the depot. He paused for a moment on the corner.
“Emmett, would you like to stop off at the hotel dining room for coffee or something to eat before you head home? I’ll bet you didn’t eat lunch on the train, and if you did, it wasn’t much of a meal.”
“No thank you. I’m fine,” I said.
“Do you mind if I ask a question?”
“No,” I said.
“Your father’s mentioning that you are going to work for him, in his pharmacy. That was news to you, wasn’t it?”
I turned slightly away. “I don’t know, “I said, careful not to look Walter in the face.
“I’m sorry, Emmett. I don’t mean to pry.”
I didn’t say anything; instead, I stood on the corner, fidgeting with the clasp on my satchel to camouflage the embarrassment and irritation that I could not hide in my expressions. I can’t hide anything from Walter. I look up at him, exasperated.
“I don’t want to work for my father.”
“All right. Well, do you know what you want to do?”
“I want to get out of Chipley,” I said.
Walter nods. “And do what?”
At that moment, I wasn’t sure that I wanted to tell Walter everything on my mind at that; I didn’t want to expose myself as vulnerable. I looked away for a moment.
“If you don’t mind, I’d rather not talk about it right now, Walter. I’m just beat after the trip from Tallahassee. If you’ll excuse me, I’ll head on home.”
“All right, Emmett,” Walter says, kindly. “I’ll see you in a few days.”
He pats me on the arm, then crosses the street towards the Central Hotel, to get something to eat, then to wait for the evening train to Marianna.
At that moment, I just wanted to get away, to be by myself.
I walked as quickly as I could up 6th Street, almost running the five blocks towards home.
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