The doctor was a handsome man. Really handsome. He had eyes to die for. He was not tall but somehow he had authority about him, that is only visible in great men. His home was in a small village up north in the tiny island where fire and ice fight. The ice sometimes conquers, but the fire is strong.
The doctors wife helped him with the surgery and she took care of the anaesthesia. They were a team. It was a busy home. Their home was not just a home for their family of 10, it was a hospital as well. The wife played a huge role. She was a tiny woman but being around her you felt like there was a general. Of course, this was a busy woman.
The life went on in the tiny village, the doctor had to travel a lot, the wife took care of the home and then there was the love that needed to be nourished. After a long day the woman was not always in the mood.
Next door lived a young woman. She had 2 children, but was divorced. The children were more or less grown up. She struggled because she was a TB survivor and they often had trouble with their health. There were many visits to the doctor, just to keep her life bearable. Her daughter had a mental illness which was a huge test and burden on the family. Eventually the daughter moved to another place but when the collapses came, she was brought home to the mother. The poverty and the sickness made it difficult to survive.
Although poor, the young woman next door was an artist. She could sow, she could make things, beautiful things from almost nothing. She learned to make clothes, men’s clothes. She studied with a famous tailor and she was good. Really good. Life was hard. She was lonely and the handsome doctor was just next door.
They fell in love.
Some times love bears fruit. And this one did. A little girl was born. The father was 60 years old, the mother 35. They were not married. She was his mistress, next door mistress. The wife got furious. Hell broke loose. A son, studying in England, had to come home. The marriage, the hospital, the doctor, everything was in turmoil. The son came home and managed to help the mother accept the fathers misstep. This was the scandal of the year, or maybe of the century, in the village.
The little girl was a beauty. She had blond hair, blue green eyes and a soft white skin, very white skin. She had her fathers eyes and her mothers skin. Would not a tiny creature like this one be welcome to the world? Would her birth not be celebrated by everyone?
A fruit of love should be precious. This one was not. This fruit was a fruit of passion, and passion did not fit into the environment where she came from. The fathers children stood with their mother. They were angry. He had let them down and this child was not to be accepted in the family. No, this child was to be kept away, hidden where the sisters would not have to see it. The brothers were not as biased. They were a bit more tolerant, but they had not forgiven. Forgiveness is difficult when the cuckold mother is the strong one in the sibling’s eyes.
The little child and the mother lived next door, next door to the family that had been betrayed by the patient which happened to be a woman.
The man, the doctor, was forgiven but the child not. The child was the curse. It was the child’s fault that the doctors marriage was on fire. The mothers children also hated the child. This little girl had ruined their reputation !
Or was that the truth? Was the reality something else? Was it the child who should bear the guilt and be branded? Would the child survive in those circumstances? What would the future bear for this one?
Would the mother love the child? Would the father love his daughter?
Hulda Björnsdóttir
My thoughts shared with you 