Part Two Section One & Two

1

Dear Mr. Paul,
It has been approximately one year since you and I made our agreement, and it has been nearly that long since you and I spoke. I have made several phone calls to you in this time. Your assistant has advised me this is not a matter for the phone, and I will respect that request, but I cannot continue to allow this matter to gnaw at me, Mr. Paul. It is of vital importance you and I speak in some manner: by telephone, return correspondence to this letter, a face to face meeting during your next visit to your home here in Always. Of course, you know the matter to which I am referring, and I will not hesitate to write it here: your child, Aquila Rose.
I have kept my end of the bargain. My first scheduled visit to check on your child after your departure was on a Thursday, and I have visited the child every other Thursday since the first visit. So far, there have been 26 visits total. I have, as your requested, written summaries of my appointments with Aquila Rose in the student’s notebook on the desk placed in the hallway just outside Aquila Rose’s bedroom door. Each of those entries has been dated as we agreed. I spoke to the housekeeper and the nanny you have hired. I asked them if you are in fact calling to have those summaries read to you. They informed me that your wife calls roughly once per month to inquire about the child, and they read my notes to her. This was not the agreement, Mr. Paul. The deal we made was you – the child’s father – would be active in this child’s development.
I receive your checks religiously and, as you stated I should, I deposit them into my bank account upon receipt. I am inclined to return that money to you, sir. How would you feel about that? Would that prompt a response from you? You can trust I will return the next check to you as soon as it is received unless the matter is addressed!
You do not know me, sir; you do not know me at all. I am nothing if I am not a man of integrity! Our introduction and the events leading to our agreement were riddled with haste, so let me tell you something about who I am. I do not apologize for any redundancies to what you already know of me.
My name is Elmer Ellsworth: an old name in this country and a name I share with men of notoriety in American History. If you turn through the pages of Benjamin Franklin’s Autobiography you will see the name mentioned and the name’s high character commented upon. In the next century, a brave man with this name would march deliberately towards a house in Virginia to remove a Confederate flag from its exterior. Moments later, this Elmer Ellsworth would be the first confirmed casualty of the Civil War. As you can see, the name binds me to a life of ethics and principles. This name was given to me in an early summer of this century’s infancy, when I was born in this town, the town that has been the setting for my entire life: Always, Indiana. The town you seemingly injected with new life, only to abandon as she was reborn!
Have you abandoned this child? Have you left this child without a father and a mother? What of the sister? Will she not know of her sibling?
In my youth, Always had been a small town, and it remains a small town to this day. It is located across the Ohio River from Louisville, KY, the largest local city and the city where I attended both college and medical school. Upon completion of my degrees, I began to practice in my father’s office, taking it over from him ten years later after an abrupt stroke left him incapacitated. Death came for him six months later. My father’s practice had been open to all patients – he being the only local doctor during the bulk of his career – but, as I progressed on my own, the availability of local physicians increased, and I shifted my practice to focus on children.
For more than thirty years, I have been the only practicing pediatrician in Always, and, in that time, I have overseen the health of nearly all of the youths in this town. I took my specialization, because, as I saw it, the needs of the children in this community were not being met. Early in my career my father had charged me with the care of children when they were brought to the office. Not that he thought the children should be treated by me, due to my inexperience.
In other words, he did not put the children in front of me to wipe noses or to place bandages on boo-boos. Quite to the contrary: Always had an uncommon rate of childhood mortality, and it was his hope I, being fresh out of medical school and versed in the newest tests and treatments, would be more apt at diagnosing the young. It was my father’s hope we could reduce the death rate in the children of Always. It has been my life’s passion and the singular vision of my career. I have no children of my own, my wife and I trying but never succeeding, and it is the care and attention to health that has let me place my parental mark on Always. My work being successful, a child born in this town is all but guaranteed a chance at a long, healthy life.
That is entirely what I intend to do here, Mr. Paul. I am determined your child will live a long and healthy life. Not only that, but I am dedicated to finding a quality of life I can call human for this child, but I must know that you are a worthy partner in this endeavor, sir. I have kept our bargain. I have not contacted the local child services regarding your child. The child is fed. The child is clean. The child’s needs are being met, sir, but you know as well as I do that this situation is one that could easily come under harsh scrutiny. Do you doubt for one second that there would be a bit of a, shall we say, uproar if a social worker were to visit that handsome home of yours on Ingersoll Street? This is not my desire, sir. I do not want any attention for that child. I want this matter to stay as private as you do, but my patience with your silence has ended. I expect your return contact upon receipt of this letter. Again, you may call, write, or pay me a visit in my office, but I expect your return communication within two weeks.
Sincerely,
Dr. Elmer Ellsworth

 
2

Dear Mr. Paul,
I hope this letter finds you and your family well. My wife and I are in good spirits. I am approaching my retirement, you see. Many doctors do not retire, Mr. Paul, they just die. Their bodies are found slumped over their desks in their offices, a stethoscope still around their necks. There is something about the career, the profession, which draws those who are dedicated to working. There are long hours, and one does feel compelled to see to the needs of the community he serves. When my father began his practice, he was the lone “country doctor.” I took his place when he left this world. I suppose you could say I have been a country doctor myself, and I am very happy with that thought. Times have changed though, much like Always has changed. Your entrepreneurship is a large contributing factor to that. Much of the growth, I am told, is still due in large part to your business transactions in our small town. To that, I compliment you.
I do not see the idea of the country doctor persisting. The field of medicine is growing and progressing at an untold speed. The people of Always are changing as well. When I was a child, a trip to Louisville was an undertaking. Transportation not being then what it is now. But into my adulthood, the roads improved and so did the automobiles. Still, people retained a sense of suspicion towards Louisville. The citizens of New York or Chicago would probably not understand, seeing a city the size of Louisville as quite small. I am not completely sure of your origins, Mr. Paul, so maybe you do not understand, but, for many small town people, any and all cities have an aura of intimidation of them. Country people regard them with suspicion as well.
Being the son of a physician and attending college in Louisville, it does not, nor has it ever bothered me. I share that with the new crop of adults in Always. These children I doctored are now becoming the leaders and citizens of this community, and most of them would not give any hesitation to a jaunt to Louisville. Nor would they hesitate to board a plane for Chicago or New York. Also, many travel into the city daily for their jobs. As troublesome as that was in 1973, it is not the case now.
With the change in times have come a rash of new doctors, and your average citizen has choices when it comes to their physician. I do not know if this is good or bad, but I do know I have fewer children walking into my office. Also, I know I can retire without a sense of guilt that I am abandoning my community. I think my career would make my departed father proud. I think I have lived up to the family name and placed my trophy of achievement on the mantel. I plan to move on to this phase of my life next year. My wife and I plan on enjoying the rest of our lives in leisure, prayer, and celebration of the life we have made together.
I have taken a new, young doctor into my practice. He too is from Always. He has a sharp intellect and is also trained specifically in Pediatrics. As I think I have stated to you, my focus on children was out of local necessity rather than academic focus.
I plan to sell my practice completely to him. We have agreed to a selling price, and he is in the process of acquiring the money that is necessary. As soon as this transaction is finished, I plan to remain on his staff for one year to assist with the transition. After that, my remaining years are to be dedicated to my loving and patient wife.
This brings me to our agreement, Mr. Paul.
First, let me start by saying I am much more pleased with our agreement than I was at this time last year. It was nearly a year ago that I wrote you in anger, and since that time I have appreciated your phone calls. I know the phone will ring once a month on the day and at the time we agreed upon. I appreciate your studious attention to this matter.
With that in mind, I would like to tell you for the time being at least, I intend to continue with our arrangement. I must be honest, the additional money will be a great assistance, and I doubt I would be retiring at this time without it. My home is paid for and my car is new. My wife and I would like to travel a bit though, which is something we have rarely done in our time together. I have saved all the money you have sent me, and she and I have agreed to take a vacation immediately following my last day of work. Your payments will fund this.
I will be arranging my trip around my visits to your Aquila Rose. I do assure you of that. My trips to see the child have been as faithful as ever. It is so interesting, Mr. Paul. I do wish I could get you to accompany me to these visits. Perhaps you could in the future?
With this said, I do want to pass on some news on Aquila Rose’s development. Along with the other issues the youth is facing, it does appear that the baby is also suffering from deafness. The child is now turning two, and I have been using sound stimulus to test the baby’s hearing. At this point it is safe to say that the complete lack of reaction to sometimes very loud, striking noise is proof enough hearing is another developmental issue. On my last visit, I confirmed Aquila Rose was sleeping, I banged two frying pans together repeatedly. The child did not stir.
I know this is sad news, Mr. Paul. I had hoped the child would be able to hear to assist with forming some type of communication skill, but that does not seem to be the case. This is especially unfortunate since we know that vision is not an option, since an eye exam is not possible. As we discussed in our last few phone calls, I would love to bring a specialist to address the hearing issues. It may be possible to fit the child with a hearing aid, which would allow us to talk to the child and allow for an understanding of language. Should you reconsider, I can assure you, I would bring in only the most discreet of professionals to inspect the child’s ears.
I have followed your wishes, and, other than the help you have hired in your home, I believe myself to be the only person who visits your child. I look forward to our next phone call, and I want to reiterate my continued dedication to our agreement.
Sincerely,
Dr. Elmer Ellsworth