Hello Dear Readers!
Welcome to my blog series "Cherry Hill" an ongoing drama about the life and times of young wife and mother Amanda Fitzpatrick in 1947 Cherry Hill Saskatchewan.
When last we left Cherry Hill, our town matriarch Mrs. Wilson, threw a Parisienne dinner party in the hopes of match making her son - Cherry Hill's war hero come home - Jack Wilson, with town nurse, Val Gilbert.
Val, head nurse to Amanda's Husband, Dr. Paul Fitzpatrick, has spent a lot of time out of town with the good doctor and, upon advice from her mother, Amanda has decided to broach the subject of Nurse Valerie.
June 1, 1947
I summoned the courage to have a talk with Paul last week. This after having witnessed the production Val made at Mrs. Wilson's Parisienne dinner when she discovered a hair in her green beans. I mean really! Frankly Mother, it was the very last straw because I have been grinning and bearing this red head and her tight fitting skirts for far too long.
While I know that Paul is devoted to me and the children, I can't help but to feel somewhat hurt and resentful that he takes her out of town so frequently. She may be a good nurse, but enough is enough!
So I put together Paul's favourite dinner of Macaroni and Cheese with Mediterranean Meatloaf.
By the time Paul arrived home, tired and impatient as ever, I had everything put together for a perfect evening - including a dry vodka gimlet for both of us, thank you very much.
Once we had enjoyed our cocktail and some small talk about the various illnesses and travails of the people of Cherry Hill, I felt that Paul had relaxed sufficiently enough to hear what I had to say.
And so, after much throat clearing and second helpings, I managed to choke out the way I've been feeling and somehow found the courage to ask that he think about the possibility of hiring another nurse - preferably one much older and more heavy set!
If looks could kill, I swear I would be dead in my grave right now because Paul was absolutely fit to be tied.
His eyes bulged out, and the veins in the sides of his neck grew so tight, I swear I could see them tremble.
And then he got angry, spouting off all kinds of nonsense about accusations and trust.
Quite frankly, I was so taken aback by his reaction, I didn't even hear the half of it - but then, as quickly as he got angry, he calmed right down and became almost sympathetic, claiming my time spent alone with the children was taking its toll.
It was so very odd.
He promised a trip abroad would be in order some time soon, but that, until then, he was going to prescribe me something. Apparently this is the latest thing for housewives - medical science has created a "pick me up" in the form of a pill designed to combat all forms of melancholia.
Mother, by the time the conversation was over, I was so relieved Paul was back to normal, I lost sight of the fact that we never solved the issue of Val - and, quite frankly, I would be hesitant to ever bring it up with him again.
In the meantime, I have tried my little pill and it certainly acts as promised in taking the edge off things, but I noticed at Bobby's baseball practice yesterday Jack looking at me strangely. I almost thought he was going to approach me to talk - but Bobby wanted to go home, and, truth be known, I was feeling a little loopy and in need of a nap.
For the life of me, I don't know why Jack's eyes haunt me so, but maybe, in my secret heart of hearts its because he notices me. Mother, I would never say this to anyone but you - and perhaps it is the curative power of these pills, but sometimes when I'm around him, I feel more lonely that I ever have in my life.
Sometimes it makes me want to pack up from Cherry Hill and just come home.
I'm merely feeling sorry for myself.
Paul was probably right, and this is just a bout of melancholy. Thankfully I am married to a brilliant man who knows just what I need to see me through.
Until next week, Mother, please send my love to Daddy and the girls.
Your devoted daughter,
To read the next installment in the popular Cherry Hill series visit here: Mrs. Wilson Makes an Insinuation
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