5. Homer Breaks a Promise

Before this morning, Homer Wells had not had an occasion to think about the soul. A study of the soul had not been a part of his training.

Dr Larch had asked Homer to prepare a fetus for an autopsy.

A woman had been stabbed, or she had stabbed herself; the pregnancy of the woman was nearly full-term. Dr Larch had attempted to rescue the child but the child – or, rather, the embryo, nearly nine months – had also been stabbed. Like its mother, the baby (the boy) had died. Dr Larch had asked Homer to help him determine the cause of death.

Homer cut the little body. He had never looked inside a fetus before. What was the life of the embryo but a history of development? Homer turned to the section in Gray's devoted to the embryo. It was a shock for him to remember that the book did not begin with the embryo; it ended with it. The embryo was the last thing which was considered.

In Gray's Homer saw the profile view of the head of a human embryo at twenty-seven days old. It didn't look like human: it had a face of a fish. But in eight weeks the fetus has a nose and a mouth. “It has an expression,” thought Homer Wells. And with this discovery – that a fetus has an expression — Homer Wells felt the presence of a soul.

He put the little dead body in a white enamel examining tray. The tiny fingers of its hands were slightly open.

The color of the dead baby was gray. Homer turned to the sink and vomited in it. When he turned on water to clean the sink, the old pipes vibrated and howled; he thought that the room was trembling because of the pipes. He wasn't thinking about the wind from the coast – how strong it was!

Homer wasn't blaming Dr Larch. If Wilbur Larch was a saint to Nurse Angela and to Nurse Edna, he was both a saint and a father to Homer Wells. Larch knew what he was doing – and for whom. However Homer had his own opinion. “You can call it a fetus, or an embryo,” thought Homer Wells, “but it's alive. And if you perform an abortion, you kill it.” He looked at the little dead body. “If it's a fetus to Dr Larch, that's fine. But it's a baby to me,” thought Homer Wells. “If Larch has a choice, I have a choice, too.”

He picked up the tray and carried it into the hall, like a proud waiter carrying a special dish to a favorite guest.

Soon Homer was at the door of Nurse Angela's office, which was open. He could see Dr Larch at the typewriter; the doctor wasn't writing; there wasn't even any paper in the machine. Dr Larch was just looking out the window. The state of a dream was so clear on Wilbur Larch's face that Homer Wells paused in the doorway; he almost turned around and took the baby away with him. Homer hesitated; then he stepped forward and put the metal tray on top of the typewriter.

“Doctor Larch?” Homer Wells said. Larch looked away from his dream; he stared over the baby at Homer. “The source of the bleeding was the pulmonary artery, which was slashed, as you see,” Homer said, as Larch looked down at the baby.

“Goddamn!” said Wilbur Larch, staring at the artery.

“I have to tell you that I won't perform an abortion, not ever,” Homer Wells said. This followed, logically, from the severed artery; in Homer's mind, it followed, but Dr Larch looked confused.

“You won't?” Larch said. “You what?”

Homer Wells and Dr Larch just stared at each other; the baby was between them.

“Not ever,” Homer Wells said.

“Do you disapprove?” Dr Larch asked Homer.

“I don't disapprove of you,” Homer Wells said. “I disapprove of it — it's not for me.”

“Well, I've never forced you,” Dr Larch said. “And I never will. It's all your choice.”

“Right,” said Homer Wells.

“And if it's all the same to you,” Homer Wells said to him, “I'd like permission to not be there, when you do what you have to do. I want to be of use in any other way, and I'm not disapproving of you,” Homer said. “If it's okay, I just don't want to watch it.”

“I'll have to think about that, Homer,” Dr Larch said.

* * *

For the last three hours Candy Kendall and Wally Worthington had maintained an awkward silence. It had still been dark when they'd left the coast at Heart's Haven and went inland – away from the wind, although the wind was still surprisingly strong. Candy's honey-blond hair was all around her face.

Wally glanced at the unread book in Candy's lap. The book was Little Dorrit^[9] by Charles Dickens. It was required summer reading for all the girls in Candy's class; Candy had begun it four or five times, but she had no idea what the book was about.

Wally, who was no reader, didn't notice the name of the book; he just watched the same page and thought about Candy. He was also thinking about St. Cloud's. He was already (in his mind) through the abortion; Candy was recovering nicely; the doctor was telling jokes; all the nurses were laughing. There were enough nurses to win a war, in Wally's imagination. All of them were young and pretty. And the orphans were amusing children.

In the trunk of Senior Worthington's Cadillac, Wally had three apple boxes full of sweets for the orphans. In the spring there weren't any fresh apples, and there wasn't any cider, but Wally had loaded the Cadillac with jars of jelly and honey.

Candy closed her book and returned it to her lap again, and Wally felt he had to say something.

“How's the book?” he said.

“I don't know,” Candy said, and laughed.

Soon they were in St. Cloud's. Little Dorrit dropped from Candy's lap.

“Please,” Wally whispered to her, “you don't have to do this. You can have the baby. I want the baby – I want your baby. It would be fine. We can just turn around,” he begged her.

But she said, “No, Wally. It's not the time for us to have a baby.” She put her face down.

The car stood still. “Are you sure?” Wally whispered to her. “You don't have to.” But Candy Kendall was more practical than Wally Worthington, and she had her father's stubbornness.

Mrs Grogan, across the road in the girls' division entrance, observed the Cadillac. There was a small crowd around the Cadillac. The trunk was open and the handsome young man was giving presents to the orphans.

“Sorry it's not the season for apples, kids,” Wally was saying. “Or cider. You could all use a little cider!” he said cheerfully, handing out the jars of honey and jelly. A boy named Smoky Fields had opened his jar of apple-cider jelly and was eating it out of the jar with his hand. “It's really good on toast, in the morning,” Wally said cautiously, but Smoky Fields stared at Wally in surprise. Smoky Fields intended to finish the jar of jelly on the spot. A girl called Mary Agnes dropped a jar of the apple jelly at Candy's feet.

“Oops,” Candy said, bending to pick up the jelly for her. When she stood up and handed the girl her jar of jelly, Candy felt a little dizzy. Some adults were coming out of the hospital entrance, and their presence helped Candy compose herself. “I've not come here to play with children,” she thought.

“I'm Doctor Larch,” the old man was saying to Wally, who looked shocked by the determination with which Smoky Fields was eating the jelly.

“Wally Worthington,” Wally said, shaking Dr Larch's hand, handing him a jar of honey. “It's fresh from Ocean View Orchards. That's in Heart's Rock, but we're very near the coast – we're in Heart's Haven, almost.”

“Hello,” Candy said to Homer because he was the tallest person; he was as tall as Wally. I'm Candy Kendall,” she said to him. “And do you work here? Or are you one of…” Was it polite to say them, she wondered.

“Not exactly,” Homer mumbled, thinking: “I work here, inexactly, and I am inexactly one of them.”

“His name's Homer Wells,” a boy told Candy. “He's too old to adopt.”

“I can see that!” Candy said, feeling shy. “I should talk to the doctor,” she thought.

“I'm in the apple business,” Wally was saying to Dr Larch. “It's my father's business. Actually,” he added, “my mother's business.”

“What does this fool want?” thought Wilbur Larch.

“Oh, I love apples!” Nurse Edna said.

“You should have your own apples,” Wally said. “Look at that hill,” he said. “You ought to plant it. I could even get you the trees. In six or seven years, you'd have your own apples; you'd have apples for more than a hundred years.”

“What do I want with a hundred years of apples?” thought Wilbur Larch.

“Wouldn't that be pretty, Wilbur?” Nurse Edna asked.

“And you could get your own cider press,” Wally suggested. “Give the kids fresh apples and fresh cider – they'd have lots to do.”

“They don't need things to do,” thought Dr Larch, “they need places to go!”

“They're from some charity,” thought Nurse Angela cautiously.

“They're too young to give their money away,” thought Wilbur Larch.

“Bees!” Wally was saying. “You should keep bees, too. It's fascinating for the kids, and a lot safer than most people think. Have your own honey, and give the kids an education – bees are a model society, a lesson in teamwork!”

“Oh shut up, Wally,” Candy was thinking.

Dr Larch looked around at the children stuffing themselves with honey and jelly. “Have they come here to play with the orphans for a day and to make everyone sick?” – he wondered.

Candy felt helpless; no one understood why she was standing there. Then Homer Wells looked at her; their eyes met. Candy thought that he had seen her many times before, that he'd watched how she grew up, had seen her naked. It was shocking to Homer (he had already fallen in love with Candy) to see in her eyes an unwanted pregnancy.

“I think you'd be more comfortable inside,” he murmured to her.

“Yes, thank you,” Candy said, not able to look in his eyes now.

Larch saw the girl walking toward the hospital entrance and thought suddenly, “Oh, it's just another abortion, that's all.” He turned to follow the girl and Homer, just as Smoky Fields finished the jar of jelly and began to eat a jar of honey.

Homer led the way to Nurse Angela's office; at the threshold he saw the dead baby's hands reaching above the edge of the white tray, which was still on Nurse Angela's typewriter. Homer's reflexes were quick enough; he pushed Candy back into the hall. “This is Doctor Larch,” Homer said to Candy, introducing them on the way to the dispensary. Wilbur Larch did not remember that there was a dead baby on top of the typewriter in Nurse Angela's office.

“I'll deliver the woman from Damariscotta,” Homer said in a low voice to Dr Larch.

“Well, don't hurry,” Larch answered.

“I mean I won't help this one,” Homer whispered, looking at Candy. “I won't even look at her, do you understand?”

Dr Larch looked at the young woman. He thought he understood, a little. She was a very pretty young woman, even Dr Larch could see that, and he'd not seen Homer so excited before. “Homer thinks he's in love,” thought Dr Larch. “Or he thinks that he'd like to be. Have I been very insensitive?” Larch wondered.

Wally introduced himself to Homer Wells. “If I could have just a moment's peace with Miss Kendall,” said Wilbur Larch, “we can all meet each other another time. Edna will assist me with Miss Kendall, please, and Angela – would you help Homer with the Damariscotta woman? Homer,” Dr Larch explained to Wally and to Candy, “is an excellent midwife.”

“You are?” Wally said to Homer enthusiastically. “Wow.” Homer Wells maintained silence. Nurse Angela touched Homer's arm very gently and said to him, “I'll help you.”

“Please do it, then,” Dr Larch said. “If I could just have a moment alone with Miss Kendall,” he repeated, but he saw that Homer was unaware that he was staring at Candy. “If I could just explain a little of the process to Miss Kendall,” Wilbur Larch said to Wally (it was hopeless to address Homer). I'd like her to know about the bleeding, later – for example,” Larch added.

“Is someone going to cut her?” he asked Homer pathetically. Homer caught Wally's arm and pulled him abruptly away. He got him outdoors so quickly that Wally didn't throw up until the two of them were behind the boys' division.

The two young men walked up and down and across the hill. Homer, politely, explained the procedure that Candy would undergo, but Wally wanted to talk about apple trees.

“This hill is perfect for your garden,” Wally said.

“If she's in the first three months,” Homer noted, “there is no need to cut.”

“I'd recommend different sorts of apple trees,” Wally said.

“There will be some bleeding – we call it spotting, actually, because it's usually not very heavy bleeding,” Homer told Wally, “Doctor Larch knows how to use ether, so don't worry – she won't feel a thing. Of course, she'll feel something afterward,” admitted Homer. “Doctor Larch calls that psychological discomfort.”

“You could come back to the coast with us,” Wally told Homer. “We could load a truck full of baby trees, and in a day or two we could come back here and plant the orchard together. It wouldn't take too long.”

“It's a deal,” said Homer Wells. The coast, he thought. I want to see the coast. And the girl. I want to ride in that car with that girl.

“A midwife,” Wally said. “Are you going to be a doctor?” “I don't think so,” said Homer Wells. “I don't know yet.” “Well, apples are my family's business,” Wally said. “I'm going to college, but I really don't know why I bother.”

“College,” thought Homer Wells.

“Candy's father is a lobsterman,” Wally explained, “but she's going to go to college, too.”

“Lobster!” thought Homer Wells. “The bottom of the sea!”

From the bottom of the hill, Nurse Angela was waving to them.

“The woman is ready!” she called to Homer Wells.

“I have to deliver someone's baby,” Homer told Wally.

Wally didn't want to leave the hill. “I think I'll stay up here. I don't think I want to hear anything,” he added; he gave Homer a smile.

“Oh, there's not much noise,” Homer said; he wasn't thinking of the Damariscotta woman; he was thinking of Candy.

He left Wally on the hill and went toward Nurse Angela; he looked back at Wally once and waved. Wally was his age and his size! They were the same height, although Wally was more muscular – from sports, Dr Larch had guessed. “He has the body of a hero,” Dr Larch thought, remembering the heroes he had tried to help in France, in World War I. “Lean but well muscled: that was a hero's body – and full of holes,” thought Wilbur Larch. He didn't know why Wally's body reminded him of this.

Wilbur Larch was thinking about Wally's face. It was handsome in a finer way than Homer's face, which was also handsome. Although Wally's body was stronger, his bones were more delicate. There wasn't a trace of anger in Wally's eyes; they were the eyes of good intentions. “He had the body of a hero, and the face…the face of a benefactor!” concluded Wilbur Larch, performing an abortion on Candy. The beauty in her face, Larch thought, was like she was free of guilt. It surprised Larch.