Page 33 of Choices of the Heart

“It’s a compromise, yes, but some sacrifices are worth making.”

A compromise. In describing her own life negotiations, she had managed to describe his. There were always compromises and sacrifices. In Chicago, he’d had all those interesting things surrounding him, and the chance to do a variety of doctoring work, but he hadn’t had his own practice, neither had he suspected there would be one. Those, mostly, went to his colleagues who had connections.

In Hope Springs he had his own infirmary. He was responsible for the entire area. He helped a lot of people, and though he wasn’t as challenged as he would have been in a big city, there was a lot of variety from day to day. He treated not merely the people but the animals as well, which added an extra degree of complication. But, here, he hadn’t those extra things he enjoyed about Chicago.

As Sophie had so rightly said, there were compromises. It seemed he needed to decide which were worth making.

They had crossed over the wooden bridge that traversed the Hope Springs river and were at the edge of the Archer farm. Along the riverbank came Finbarr with Madra beside him as always.

“Finbarr,” Burke said. “It’s Dr. Jones. Good to see you.”

Finbarr swept the ground in front of him with his cane as he approached. Madra nudged him a bit farther from the river’s edge. “Dr. Jones, you are exactly who I was hoping to find.”

“Well, then, this is a stroke of luck. Miss Kingston is here with me.”

Finbarr dipped his head, though he clearly didn’t know quite where she stood. “Miss Kingston.”

“A pleasure to see you again, Finbarr. I need to hop over to the Archers’. I told them I would help prepare lunch.”

She continued on, leaving Burke to address whatever it was that had sent Finbarr searching him out. The fact that he so seldom did, made the moment a bit worrisome.

“What can I help you with, Finbarr?”

“I think I have a splinter in my hand. As near as I can tell there’s no edge of it poking through the skin, so I can’t get the blasted thing out. It’s been a couple of days, and it’s starting to really bother me. I realize that’s a thing most don’t need a doctor’s help with…”

This was an aspect of Finbarr that hadn’t changed since Burke’s arrival. He was both frustrated and a little embarrassed by the things he struggled to do on account of his loss of sight. Cecily, his sister-in-law, had lost her sight as well, and had told the O’Connors it could be a long struggle for him to adapt and make his peace. Finbarr had improved, but he obviously still grappled with it all.

“I have my bag with me,” Burke said. “The sun is out and bright today. I can take a look at it right now. With any luck, I can quickly get out whatever is in there.”

Finbarr held out his left hand, palm up. It wasn’t hard to tell where the splinter was—a large bit of his hand was red and swollen. It wasn’t so bad that Burke worried about infection but enough that it was clear the splinter was causing difficulties.

“Any idea where you picked it up?” Burke asked taking hold of Finbarr’s hand, eying the sore more closely.

“A fence post,” Finbarr said. “I was hooking the rope to it and caught my hand on a jagged bit.”

Cecily and Patrick had devised a means for Finbarr to work in his fields without getting lost. It was an intricate system of fence posts and ropes, bells that sounded drastically different from each other hung in various places. Madra stayed with him as well and had shown herself more than capable of nudging him in the correct direction. Thus far, the approach seemed to be working.

“I can get the splinter out without too much trouble,” Burke said. “Itisbeneath the surface. You couldn’t possibly have removed it yourself. In fact, it’s deep enough, I think anyone would struggle to get to it without the right tools.”

“You might very well be lying to me, but I appreciate it. Being a bit helpless grows tiresome.”

Burke hunched down and opened his bag. Madra sniffed the air around him, eying Burke closely. The sweet dog was never aggressive, but she was decidedly protective of Finbarr. Having, apparently, decided Burke was not a threat, Madra stretched herself over Finbarr’s feet and laid her head on her paws.

“How are things coming along out at your place?” Burke asked while searching through his bag. “Do you still like your house?”

“I do like it. There’s something to be said for living on one’s own. For a long time, I didn’t think that would be possible.”

“Too much isolation isn’t good for you,” Burke warned gently.

“It doesn’t feel like ‘too much,’” Finbarr said. “I like the space. I like the quiet. Sometimes, being alone is exactly what a person needs.”

Burke stood once more, a small blade and a pair of tweezers in his hand. “No one ever sees you anymore.”

“I don’tseeanyone either.” His lips tipped up a bit. Finbarr didn’t used to be able to joke about the ways his life had changed.

“I’m going to get this splinter out, but it’ll likely hurt a bit.”

“Do what you need to, Doc,” Finbarr said.

---