With a single gesture, he silences me. "Helene won't do anything. If someone is going to treat me, it's going to be you."
I would have expected many things, but certainly not this. "Are you sure?" Has he understood that someone died because I neglected my duty as a doctor?
"There's just one condition." A bitter expression crosses his face. "I won't come to the practice."
What a strange request. I gaze at him, unable to discern anything, yet at least the burden of the past on my shoulders feels slightly lighter. With a hesitant smile, I nod. "Would it be okay if I come by for a blood test the day after tomorrow? We can discuss the results next weekend."
Noah grunts in agreement and marches on once again. Still somewhat taken aback by his reaction, Iwalk silently beside him. As enchanting as the lake is, along whose shore we stroll, I can't fully appreciate its beauty at this moment.
I have what I wanted. He's letting me help him. The doctor in me should be satisfied with that, but the woman in me can't stop pondering what it means.
I dare not ask him why he's giving me another chance despite my mistake. Hardly anyone has done that since then.
Not the doctors at the clinic, who, after lengthy consultations and countless assurances on my part, decided to fire me. Not my parents, whose disappointed faces I carry inside me like ghostly visages. All my life, I was their good child. The little princess who never caused any trouble. The diligent girl on whom they could always rely, allowing them to focus on their son. The straight-A student who was supposed to save her brother.
And then something like this happens.
At least I was able to secure a great therapy spot for Aaron. It took me hours to find it and countless phone calls to make it happen. I transferred the down payment directly from my account yesterday, just as I promised.
Despite my efforts to do everything right, my parents canceled their planned visit for next week. It still hurts them too much to see that their dream of me ever being able to heal Aaron has burst.
No, I don't want to think about that. I should look forward. Work on myself. Get better. And then, someday, they will be proud of me.
I force a smile and turn to Noah. "Tell me something about yourself."
"There's nothing to tell." He shrugs. "I was born and raised here."
I look at him incredulously. So he has managed to stay here at the end of the world for almost thirty years? "Didn't you ever want to leave Semmtal? Live somewhere else? See something different?"
Now, he's the one scrutinizing me. "Why?" he asks, spreading his arms and taking a deep breath. "Look around. Nowhere can be more beautiful than here."
He can't get away that easily. "How do you know that if you've never been anywhere else?"
He shakes his head with a smirk. "Believe it or not, I have been on vacation too."
I have to give him that point. "How did you come up with the idea of working with wood?" I ask next, as this part interests me the most.
His creative side makes me suspect that a sensitive person exists behind his closed facade. A smile actually appears on his face.
As he tells me about how he built his first birdhouse as a teenager and felt that it was his passion, and how he subsequently developed his skills, we continue to circle the lake.
Time passes faster than I'd like. I notice the sun getting closer to the horizon, but I don't waste a thought on it. I would love to keep hiking with him forever, listening to him enthusiastically talk about building his first tree house.
"Wood is a wonderful material," he finally says. "It's full of life, just like nature." He spreads his arms and gestures to our surroundings. "Wooden furniture creates an atmosphere in every room as if you were living outside. Right in the middle of nature. Amongdeer and badgers. With the scent of resin and pine needles in the air."
"That sounds amazing," I admit. And that's saying something, considering I couldn't relate to the overdose of nature in Tyrol. But the way he describes it, it has something devoted about it. I raise my gaze to take a closer look around. I take a deep breath to absorb what he's so excitedly talking about.
Indeed. The air is pure and clear. The birds with their yellow bellies, perched in the trees, singing their most beautiful songs, have friendly faces. And the forest around us suddenly feels like it's breathing with me. Not bad at all. But definitely not something I need every day.
Only a few steps later, I realize we have arrived back at the starting point of our circular hike. We take the path down to the valley. A few hundred yards down the mountain, the hiking trail ends, and a sense of melancholy creeps over me. There seems to be another path branching off up ahead at the curve. Maybe we can continue hiking after all?
"Where does this path lead?" I ask, heading straight for the junction. Despite our long hike, I feel energized.
"To the Semmtal Gorge," he replies, making no attempt to follow me but stubbornly staying on the path toward the valley. "The route is too long to do today."
"That's a shame," I say, turning back reluctantly. "I would have loved to see a gorge like that. Can we go another time?"
Instead of answering me, he just grumbles. I take it as a sign of agreement and catch up with him once again.
