That Certain Spark by Cathy Marie Hake

the strongest muscles in the entire body, and you’re a powerful man. I repaired the damage with great care, but the fragile silk sutures are no match for heavy exertion. As the tissue knits back together and heals, I believe your muscles will repair adequately, but the actual range of your knee and hip’s movement will rely upon faithfully doing these exercises.” Her eyes locked with his. “Slowly.”
    He nodded his understanding. As she motioned for him to lift his foot, he did so.
    “Don’t stop when your foot comes to there.” She held her hand higher. “I want you to reach this point.”
    “My leg—I cannot get it all the way straight.”
    “No, you can’t. It’s just a little bit shy of being perfect, and I want you to have a full recovery.” Suddenly an impish gleam hit her eye. She drew her hands away. Crossing them behind her back, she leaned forward and murmured, “Think, each time as you do the exercise, that you are kicking the ugly swan sconce.”
    “I’ll recover very quickly now.”
    “That’s what I hoped for.”
    “Are there any other exercises I should do?”
    She showed him a few more, then suddenly she froze. “What are you doing with my chatelaine?”
    “Your brother sneaked it to me. Perhaps he didn’t want you to get your hopes up if it couldn’t be repaired.” Pride filled him as he picked up the piece. “But I fixed it. It’s good as new now.”
    Reverently accepting it, she rubbed her thumb along the knot-work edge as if to refamiliarize herself with a long-parted friend. She tried the lever and inspected it from the side. A soft look of wonder went over her face. “You did something different with it. As I work the lever, I sense it has more strength than it used to.”
    “Whatever originally held it and provided the tension was gone, yet something was clearly needed in that place to make it hold. So I made what I thought might have been there. I hope you will find it satisfactory.”
    “This is outstanding. My chatelaine’s never really had the strength I required. I’ve considered having the flat piece on the back elongated. . . .” She turned to stare at something off to the side that suddenly seemed of great interest. “But it’s not possible.”
    Karl knew why she’d suddenly avoided eye contact. This topic edged toward indecent. While the pretty part hung outside over the side of her waistband, women tucked the inch-and-a-half to two-inch flat metal back inside their skirt to anchor the piece in place and bear whatever slight weight they’d attach to it. If the inside metal piece were any longer, it would poke the lady in the hip each time she moved.
    “If you want it stronger, I could widen it through here.” He took a pencil and drew on his table. “See here? Instead of it just being straight, what I can do is add by making it shaped thus.” He showed her how he could widen it.
    “Like the petal of a flower.”
    “Like the petal “Ja, ja, so.”
    She looked at him. “Not like the beak of a swan.”
    “No, no, not the beak of that stupid swan.”
    “I’d appreciate it if you could do it.” Her fingers didn’t quite want to let go of the piece, and he saw her hesitation.
    “I’ll do it right now.”
    Dr. Bestman looked at all the other pieces he had in line waiting. “That wouldn’t be fair. You have other people waiting on your work, as well.”
    “Ah, but you see, yours was still being worked upon. No work is done until I polish it. I had not yet polished your piece, so that means it was still unfinished.”
    Her jaw dropped. “You polish silver?”
    “I polish each thing that I do. Piet!” he called. “Piet, tell her, do we not always polish each thing that we do before we put it out?”
    “Of course. It would not be right to send it out raw. We are not just workers, we are craftsmen.”
    “A master craftsman, indeed.” She handed the chatelaine back to Karl. “I thank you very much for doing that for me. I’ll be back later