A Convenient Wife (13 page)

His face reddened and an ugly sneer narrowed his eyes. “We'll see about that,” he told her spitefully. “I'd think a rousing scandal would make the doctor think twice about keeping you under his roof.”

She backed from him, angry with her own stupidity. Why she'd thought she could untangle this mess by herself was beyond belief. Her first mistake had been in thinking she could send Tommy and his mother on their way.

No, she decided glumly. Her first mistake had been
marrying Win. Now he was stuck in the middle of a mess, and his good reputation was on the line. Any chance of keeping Win out of the midst of gossip was gone.

A
message from Win was stuck between the screen door and the jamb when Ellie arrived home. She shifted the package she carried as she spied the ragged piece of paper, and snatched it from its place with eager fingers. Win's angular penmanship scrawled a note, and Ellie's plans for the fresh side pork and dried beans she carried met with disaster. The beans could soak on the back of the stove, but it would be tomorrow before she prepared the meal for Win.

He wouldn't be home for supper after all. Apparently he'd found someone to carry a message to her. The family was sicker than he'd anticipated and he would not leave until a relative arrived to help out. She looked at his slanted signature, tracing the letters with her index finger, aching for his presence.

And wasn't that foolish? She wasn't his first obligation, and it was about time she got that into her head. Taking second place to his patients was a part of the bargain she'd struck with Win. He shouldn't even have to be concerned enough to send her word, she decided. She was splitting his attention, and it wasn't fair to the part of him that was, first and foremost, a physician.

Leaving this house for a while, at least until the Jamisons gave up and headed back to Philadelphia, seemed to be the best idea she could come up with, at least for Win's benefit. He didn't need the distraction of that problem, along with tending patients and making house calls, like the one that was taking up this whole day.

She went through the doorway into the hall and checked inside his waiting room. So far, so good, she noted. Folks were aware that he seldom was available in the hours before noon, and the room was empty.

Sliding a piece of paper from the stack he kept in his desk, she wrote a note. In large letters, she announced that there would be no office hours today, due to illness on a distant ranch.

A straight pin attached it to the screen on the front door, and she tucked the bottom of the paper inside the molding, holding it in place. She backed up a step and read it. Unless the patients had a problem with reading, it should do the trick. In any event, she had the rest of the day to herself, and she had some decision making to do.

Kate would be the one to talk to, she decided, and today being Saturday, she'd be available. Still wearing her coat, she headed out the back door, walking across the lot to pay a visit. Opening the back door, she announced her presence. “Kate?”

“I'm in the parlor,” Kate answered. “Come on in.”

Ellie passed through the kitchen, noting the breakfast dishes in the pan, and the laundry waiting Kate's scrub board. “I thought you might need a hand,” she announced, entering the parlor, where Kate sat in the rocking chair, her son held closely to her bosom.

“Come take a look,” she invited. “He's growing like a bad weed.”

Looking less like a wizened old man, the babe blinked up
at Ellie, and she laughed spontaneously. “He's so tiny. How can you think he's grown any?”

Kate looked disgruntled. “He has. When I changed his diaper, his little legs weren't nearly so skinny, and his arms are filling out, too.” She held up a tiny hand, the fingers wide spread against her palm. “Just look. He's gaining well. Even Win said so,” Kate announced, as if that were the final word on the subject.

“I'm not much of an expert,” Ellie admitted, bending closer to inspect the infant. Dark hair covered his head, and already he had taken on the look of James, his arrogance well in place as he yawned widely. Ellie's heart turned over in her breast as she felt a yearning heretofore unknown in her life.

That she would be holding just such a child in less than two months was a miracle she could barely believe. And yet, with constant reminders from the kicks and nudges inside her belly, she knew it to be true. Hope rose within, and she felt joy cascade throughout her being. No matter how things worked out, she would hold her child, and cherish the tiny life she'd managed to create.

With the help of Tommy,
a voice within her said. What if he had those same feelings about a child of his loins? Was he right? Did she owe him anything at all? Or was she within her rights to deny him the privilege of being a father?

“Tommy and his mother are in town.” Blurting the words before she thought twice, Ellie sat down on the sofa.

Kate's eyes widened. “Did they come to see you?”

“No. They talked to Win.” Ellie felt the thump of a small foot against her side and her hand rested possessively against the spot. “I went to the hotel and talked to Tommy this morning, though.”

“What do they want?” Kate's brow furrowed as she rocked, and Ellie drew in a deep breath.

“I don't want to worry you, but I guess you might as well know,” she said glumly. And then she told Kate the whole
story. “…Tommy said that Win would think twice about keeping me under his roof, when he was the subject of gossip,” she finished, sighing as she contemplated the choice she had made.

“What are you planning?” Kate asked, suspicion alive in her voice. “I don't like the look on your face, Ellie.”

“If I'm not here, Win won't be involved. I'm thinking I should leave for a while, until I can be sure that Tommy's given up his silly idea.”

“Win will have a fit if you move out,” Kate warned. “And I wouldn't blame him. He'll be hurt, Ellie.”

“He's got enough on his mind without my problems making his life more difficult.”

“You're his wife,” Kate reminded her. “Don't you know that he'll come after you?”

Ellie sighed. “I don't know what else to do, Kate.” She rose from the sofa and adjusted her dress, tugging at it to cover her stomach. “I need to change clothes and then I'm coming back here to scrub out your wash. I don't want to get this dress dirty.”

“You don't need to do that,” Kate protested. “James will help me when he gets home.”

“Let me help. I really want to,” Ellie answered. “It'll give me something to do.” She waved her fingers in Kate's direction and left, the sound of mumbled agreement bringing a smile to her lips. It was wonderful to have a woman friend, the first in her life, she realized.

And then there was Tess, who was almost like a mother. It would be hard to turn her back on all this, even for a short while. But, if it would make Win's life any easier, she'd do it. Maybe tomorrow she could decide where to go.

 

Kate's clothesline was filled with diapers and kimonos, along with James's clothing and the sheets Ellie had stripped from Kate's bed. They blew nicely in the cold wind and Ellie
tackled the kitchen while she waited for them to dry. She looked forward to pressing out the tiny baby garments, but Kate would have to tell her how to fold the diapers into the right size.

It wouldn't be very long before she'd be doing these chores for her own child, and that thought brought a thrill to her heart. There was much to learn, she decided, her hands busy with hot soapy water and the dishes she'd buried in its depths. But between Kate and Tess, she'd have help to figure it all out.

Kate was tucked up on the sofa, with the baby in a basket at her side, her lap filled with papers she was grading. Ellie felt a shaft of envy for the life Kate had formed for herself. She was so certain of events, so well organized and capable.

And all I'm good for is housework,
she thought, rinsing the plates and setting them on the sink board. The soup she'd put on the stove for Kate's lunch was warmed through, and Ellie found a bowl in the buffet. Carrying it to Kate on a lacquered tray, she pinned a smile on her face.

“Oh, thanks,” Kate said, holding out her hands to take the offering. “I could have come to the kitchen, but this is nice, having a day off and you here lending a hand.”

Ellie glanced at the sleeping baby. “Do you think I could hold him when he wakes up?” she asked shyly. Her hands had itched to touch the precious bundle.

“Of course you can. You need to get in practice, anyway.” She dipped bread into her soup and closed her eyes as she ate the moist morsel. “You do make good bread, Ellie. I didn't realize the difference till I ate yours the first time. Now I realize how hungry I've been for this. I've even sent James to buy a loaf from Ethel Talbert, but it's not as light as what you make.”

Ellie's hands were deft as she flew through the work Kate had been unable to accomplish throughout the week. The washing was dried, folded and put away, James's shirts pressed
and folded and his trousers neatly creased. Ellie felt a sense of accomplishment as she surveyed the results of the afternoon. Kate's kitchen sparkled, and on the stove a pot of beef stew awaited James's arrival for supper.

“I can't thank you enough,” Kate said from the doorway. She had dressed, complaining mildly that her dress was still snug, and Ellie had rolled her eyes, refusing to be sympathetic.

It was the best part of neighboring, she decided, walking across the backyard to her own kitchen, being with Kate, holding the baby. Even working in someone else's kitchen was a pleasure, when it was for a friend. The sun was sinking low in the sky as she opened the kitchen door and stepped inside, blinking against the gloom.

An unseen hand closed the door behind her and she jolted, turning awkwardly to see her father there, a grim look turned in her direction. “I come to get you, Ellie. Get your things together. You're comin' home with me till we get things straightened out. You got an obligation to the Jamisons, and I intend to see to it you do right by them. That boy came all the way from Philadelphia to make things right with you, and you're gonna take him up on it.”

She shook her head. “I'll do no such thing, Pa. This is my home. You have no business being here.”

His hand rose, and his palm cracked against her cheek, sending her reeling. She caught a chair and sat down, feeling the nausea rising from her throat. Lifting trembling fingers to her face, she looked up at George. “You have no right to touch me. I'm Winston Gray's wife, Pa.”

“You're my daughter, first and foremost, and everybody knows that Doc Gray only married you 'cause he feels sorry for you.” His grin was a leer and she felt her stomach churn. “I'm just gonna take you off his hands and see to it you come to your senses.”

“What are you talking about?”

“Your bastard's got a daddy right here in town, ready and
willing to marry you. All you need to do is tell the doctor you don't want to be his wife. Mrs. Jamison said she can take care of getting things fixed up so you can marry Tommy. And that's the right thing to do,” he said judiciously. “He's the father, and he's got rights.”

“I'm not marrying Tommy.” Her head whirling, she rose, backing toward the hallway door. “Win is my husband.”

“Mrs. Jamison is gonna fix everything,” her father insisted. “Now you come on with me. You don't need any fancy fixings from this place. There's enough of your old things at the ranch for you to wear.” He hauled on her arm, taking her off guard, and dragged her to the back door.

Twilight had fallen, the sun setting behind the far-off mountains in the southwest, and Ellie breathless and confused saw no one in sight to offer her a helping hand. Her father's wagon was around the side of the house, and he forced her to walk by his side, his fingers digging into her arm as he muttered threats beneath his breath.

She staggered and would have fallen, but for the wagon before her. Her hand gripped the wooden sideboard and she felt a sliver jab beneath her nail, the pain barely catching her attention, so great was the ache in her heart. She'd thought to leave, but not this way. Not by force, and certainly not in order to give Mrs. Jamison control over her life.

Win wouldn't even know where she'd gone, she thought. Then, from the corner of her eye, she caught sight of James walking down the road, heading for home. Her mouth opened and she inhaled, but only a small shriek left her lips before George slapped his hand over her mouth, then cuffed her with his other fist.

She sagged to the ground, head swimming, and he picked her up like a sack of oats, and rolled her onto the back of the wagon. His kerchief was called into service as he bent over her, jamming it between her teeth and tying it at the back of her head.

Pieces of her long hair caught in the knot and she winced, tears rushing to her eyes as he tugged roughly, jerking her head back. It was no use fighting, she decided, her body going limp as he knotted a rope around her wrists and tugged them to her back. The wagon bed smelled sour, but she could not hold her head erect, and waves of darkness overcame her feeble protests, as she was wedged between long pieces of lumber and a bale of straw.

 

Lionel Briggs was a most accommodating man, having slept at the livery stable in order to greet Win's return. “Knew you'd be back sometime tonight, Doc,” the man had said in the midst of a yawn. “You'd better get on home. Your missus will be wondering what happened to you.”

Win had nodded, and obeyed.

The house was dark. Ellie was in bed, he decided, opening the front gate and approaching the house. A piece of paper hung from the screen door, held in place by a straight pin, and he removed it. She must have written a note to let his patients know he was away. Stuffing it in his pocket, he tried the knob, and it turned in his hand.

The door wasn't locked, though that wasn't unusual. He frequently forgot to latch the doors at night. One advantage to having the sheriff living next door, he thought with a wry grin.

The floor creaked beneath his feet as he traveled the length of the hall, with only a short detour to his office, where he deposited his black leather bag. No light shone beneath the kitchen door either, and he frowned. It wasn't like Ellie not to leave him a meal on the back of the stove. He'd thought the lamp over the kitchen table might be burning with a low flame on his behalf. But no scent of cooking met his nostrils, and he shrugged.