What she required was a greater distance from Quentin. He would benefit from the same. The most efficient way to achieve that goal was in the company of others. He should socialize with all the patients, become one of the group.
“I would like you to join us on our walk tonight,” she said at the door. “We shall gather in the parlor in a few minutes.”
His smile held the same outward amiability as always. “Of course, Doctor. I’ll be there.”
Just after five o’clock she assembled the patients—all but Harper—together in the parlor for their thrice-weekly evening stroll. Papa was strapped into his special wheelchair, showing some interest in the proceedings, and Oscar was openly eager for the excursion. Lewis wore the black overcoat and gloves he always donned no matter what the weather. Irene was defiantly dressed in a gown and shoes entirely inappropriate for the outing, her way of protesting the exercise, and possibly of showing off to Quentin. May waited outside the door, prepared to trail behind them—at a safe distance, as always.
“Please return to your room and put on more suitable shoes,” Johanna told Irene. “You’ll hurt your feet, and that is of no benefit to your health—or beauty.”
It was an argument that generally worked with the former actress. She flounced back to her room and reappeared wearing low-heeled, button-top shoes that looked ridiculous with the gown.
They set out on the wagon path that led away from the house, south toward the road. Johanna took the lead, pushing her father’s chair, followed by Oscar, Quentin, Lewis, Irene, and May.
The day’s heat was dissipating at last. Birds darted from one tree to the next, absorbed in their evening songs, and the angled sunlight splashed the fields and trees and scattered farm buildings with liquid gold.
Quentin caught up with her after a quarter of a mile. Johanna took a firmer grip on her father’s chair and fixed a neutral smile on her face.
“It’s beautiful in this valley,” he said, slowing his stride to match her pace. “I don’t think I was able to appreciate it when I first arrived.”
This was the perfect opportunity to set the tone of their future relationship. “It is lovely. The region where my father grew up, near Mainz, was not dissimilar.”
“The Rheinhessen?”
“Yes. You have been there?”
“Once. I did some traveling in Europe now and then. I’ve even read a bit of German literature: ” ‘Was vernünftig ist, das ist wirklich; und was virklich ist, das is vernünftig.'”
Her father looked up at Quentin and laughed. “That will never do, my boy,” he said. “‘Was vernünftig ist, das ist wirklich; und was virklich ist, das ist vernünftig.'”
Startled by his participation, Johanna saw that his eyes were clear and focused, his expression animated. Quentin executed a sideways bow.
“I stand corrected, Herr Doktor. Do you agree with Hegel’s sentiments? ‘What is reasonable is real; that which is real is reasonable.'”
“I would not dare argue with the great philosopher,” Papa said, shaking his head. “I am but a simple physician.”
“That I very much doubt. Hegel also said: ‘It is easier to discover a deficiency in individuals, in states, and in Providence, than to see their real import and value.'”
Johanna felt a burst of happiness. The conversation was entirely rational, and Quentin talked to her father as if he were an equal, not an enfeebled old man.
“Ha!” Papa slapped his right hand down on the arm of his wheelchair. “Why did you never introduce me to this young man before, Johanna? He shows great promise.” He squinted up at Quentin. “Are you the new doctor? Forgive me, my memory sometimes fails me. I believe you will do very well here. Ja, sehr gut…” He lapsed into silence, withdrawing into his own thoughts.
“You were expecting another doctor?” Quentin said to Johanna under his breath.
“We had been discussing finding a third doctor to join us at the Schell Asylum in Pennsylvania, in order to expand our practice.” She touched her father’s head lightly, smoothing his thin gray hair. “It was Papa’s dream. He fell ill before we could complete it.”
“I’m sorry. We have so little control over our destinies.”