Child of Promise (5 page)

Seeing Millie’s look of panic, Beth wondered what else she strove so mightily to protect Noah from. Anger rose in Beth. Perhaps Noah was a wee bit too caught up in his own misery to see what was going on around him.

“Well, I can’t promise never to tell Noah,” Beth said, laying a hand on Millie’s shoulder, “but, like you said, no sense upsetting him, at least until we know more about what’s causing your spells.”

“If you’re going to be my doctor”—Millie’s eyes narrowed with grim resolve—“I expect you to keep my personal health matters private. They’re nobody’s business unless I care to make them that.”

Beth sighed. “Fine. You’re right, of course. I’ll honor your desires. Sooner or later, though, we might have to have a very serious talk about letting Noah in on this.”

“You think this is serious, and you haven’t even examined me yet?

“I’ve seen enough to disturb me.” She walked to the cookstove and took up the teakettle. Moving to the sink, Beth proceeded to pump water into the container.

“Let’s plan on heading down to Doc’s just as soon as the potpie’s out of the oven,” she said, placing the kettle back on the stove to heat. “In the meanwhile, I’ll get Emily ready, bring her downstairs, and we’ll have a cup of tea. By then, the potpie should be done.”

“If you say so.” Millie cast her an exasperated look. “Land sakes, but aren’t you a MacKay through and through? Once you get an idea into your head, there’s no changing you, is there?”

Beth grinned. “No, there isn’t. Especially when it involves someone I care for. And I care about
you,
Millie Starr.”

Luckily, Doc was not only available but in his office when Beth rang him up. She quickly explained the –situation.

“Millie could probably wait until Monday,” he said, his gruff voice belying his concern, “but I agree she’s gone long enough without treatment as it is. I’m going to have a stern talk with her about keeping this from me, you can be sure. She may well have made a big mistake taking a doctor into her house, if she thought to keep such secrets.”

“I’d like to bring her over in about an hour. Will that be all right with you?”

Doc chuckled softly. “Even if it’s Saturday, I’ve already seen two walk-in patients this morning. I can sure make room for an old friend like Millie.”

“Good. I can help. I’m all moved in.”

“Hopefully, Millie’ll be the last patient for the day. But you’re more than welcome to sit in on the visit.”

“I’d like to. Thanks.”

Beth hung up then realized that Nola Teachout, the central switchboard operator, might have been listening in on their conversation. She cursed her lapse of memory.

In New York City, the central switchboard was comprised of a large group of very busy women. Odds were strong they hadn’t the time to listen in on conversations, much less recognize the speakers or their subjects. Here in Grand View, however, the amount of telephone calls necessitated only one switchboard operator. And that operator knew everyone.

Beth would have to be far more careful whenever she conferred with Doc or a patient over the telephone. The only consolation was that Nola was known to be a discreet woman who generally disdained gossip. Probably the main reason she was hired for the job, Beth supposed, and she offered up a prayer of thanks.

It was almost noon before they made their way to Doc’s office. Millie entered first, with Beth following, guiding Emily’s wheelchair through the door. To her surprise, a woman with a black eye and bruised cheek was just then walking out of Doc’s examining room.

Beth parked Emily’s wheelchair near the window, then turned back to the ebony-haired woman. “Why, Mary Sue Edgerton”—she extended her hand in greeting—“what a pleasant surprise. I haven’t seen you in years and imagined you’d wed some rich, handsome man by now and moved away.”

Mary Sue met her gaze, then averted it, flushing crimson. “It’s Peterson. Mary Sue Peterson. And though I did marry the owner of the Grand View Bank, I didn’t move away.” She shot Doc Childress a quick glance. “Harlow will settle the bill on Monday, if that’s all right with you, Doc.”

He nodded. “That’ll be fine, Mary Sue. Just have a care from here on out, will you? Next time you fall down the stairs, you might not get off with just a black eye and bruised face.”

She managed a taut smile. “Yes, I was lucky this time, wasn’t I?” With that, she all but dashed from the office.

Millie and Beth exchanged guarded looks then turned back to Doc, who was still staring after Mary Sue, a troubled expression on his craggy face. With great emphasis, Beth cleared her throat. Doc spun around and plastered a wide grin of welcome on his face.

“Well, what have we here, Millie Starr?” he asked, walking over to take her hand. “I hear you’ve been keeping secrets from me. Is that true?”

Millie’s mouth quirked. “If I have, I’ve had good reason, John. You know I’m not one to come running for every ache and pain.”

“And I appreciate that, Millie. Indeed I do. But this sounds a lot more serious than some little ache or pain.” As he spoke, he led her into his examining room. “So why don’t Dr. MacKay and I just have a little look-see?”

Millie cast a glance over her shoulder at Beth, who had gone to retrieve Emily and head her in their direction. “Suit yourself, John. Just be advised I haven’t time for fancy testing or trips to see specialists in Colorado Springs. What can be done had better be done here.”

“Well, let’s just see what’s going on first, shall we?” Doc asked, arching an eyebrow at Beth. “First things first, I always say.”

Beth shot Doc a commiserating look, then wheeled Emily into the office and shut the door behind them.

5

We have redemption through his blood, even the forgiveness of sins.

Colossians 1:14

With a flourish, Noah finished the closing line of tomorrow’s sermon and laid his pen aside. Not a moment too soon, he thought, glancing at the small desk clock. Half past six. Millie had probably served up supper already.

Just as well if they had gone on to eat without him. Noah shoved back his chair and stood. He had been so busy today, he hadn’t had time to make it home for lunch, much less supper. Still, he knew Millie would have a plate prepared for him, kept warm in the oven.

He slipped on his black coat, straightened his clerical collar, and grabbed his hat. There was a smudge of dirt on its black grosgrain band, and Noah rubbed it off before donning the hat. After extinguishing his out-of-date but still functional kerosene lamp, he headed home.

The rectory was brightly lit, smelled of fried chicken and apple pie, and was filled with the sound of laughter. Splashing noises rose from the kitchen. He smiled. Supper was most definitely over if Emily was now getting her bath.

Noah deposited his hat and jacket on the rattan coat tree just inside the front door. Then, rolling up his shirt sleeves, he entered the kitchen. Three pairs of feminine eyes lifted, acknowledged him, then returned to their bathing duties.

“Busy day at the church?” Millie asked, sending a small sailboat back into Emily’s splashing vicinity.

“Yes. For some reason, Sunday’s sermon was a bear to write.”

“But you’re happy with it now?”

He nodded. “Yes, pretty much. I’ll go over it once more in the morning before services.” His glance moved to Beth. “All settled in and comfortable?”

“Yes.” Cheeks flushed, dark tendrils of hair curling damply around her face, she smiled up at him from her spot on the floor beside the tinplated washtub. “My room’s perfect. Absolutely perfect.”

“Good.”

Noah walked to the stove and retrieved his supper. As if to make up for the lunch he had missed today, Millie had piled his plate high with several pieces of crisply fried chicken, a generous mound of mashed potatoes and gravy, and a mess of fresh green beans seasoned with bacon. He carried it to the table, whereupon sat his napkin, silverware, and an empty coffee mug. After filling the mug from the pot on the stove, Noah sat down and dug in.

As he ate, he watched the two women with Emily. His daughter loved playing in water, and it provided such wonderful exercise that hardly a night passed that Millie didn’t prepare her a bath. In the water, as his aunt supported Emily on her tummy, his daughter’s spasmodic motions didn’t seem quite so strange. Noah could almost imagine she was swimming, swimming like any other child. For a few minutes, he could dream of how it should have been. Then, as always, he’d wrench himself back to reality, feeling guilty for not fully accepting Emily as she was, for not wholeheartedly thanking the Lord for His gift, as unexpectedly tragic as that gift had turned out to be.

At the renewed swell of misery, Noah’s appetite fled him yet again. He pushed aside his plate. Mug in hand, he leaned back in his chair, content to banish all thoughts and further self-recriminations and just mindlessly watch life continue around him.

“You hardly ate anything,” Millie said, glancing at his plate. “Unless you had a very big lunch—which I doubt— you need to finish your meal, Noah Starr. You can’t stand to lose any more meat on those already scrawny bones. As it is, most of your clothes already hang on you.”

To appease her, Noah picked up a piece of half-eaten chicken and began to chew on it. “Is this more to your liking?” he asked after swallowing a mouthful of meat that, as well cooked and seasoned as he knew it always to be, still tasted like dried bones to him.

His aunt scowled. “A little more, but I won’t be satisfied until you eat at least half of the food on that plate.”

Beth, who had been intent on pouring water over a giggling Emily’s head, chuckled. “Better get to work, Noah, or you’ll be here all night.”

He grinned. “I recall a few episodes like that as a boy. There was a time when I absolutely despised peas, and I wasn’t allowed to leave the table until I ate all of them off my plate. Took me a couple of hours tossing them one by one out the window when my parents weren’t watching, but I finally completed the mission.”

Millie scowled all the more fiercely. “You watch yourself, boy. Lucky for you, Emily’s not quite old enough to understand all that yet. But soon enough, you’ll have to take care what foolish notions you put into her head with such tales. Mark my words. Soon enough.”

“I’m doing as I was told, aren’t I?” He waved a chicken bone now cleaned of meat in the air. “Same as I’d expect of Emily.”

“Her appetite’s not the problem.” Millie paused to pinch one of the little girl’s chubby cheeks. Then, leaning back, she gestured to Noah’s plate. “Now let’s see some of those mashed potatoes sliding down your gullet.”

Noah shot Beth a long-suffering look, then dug in. At the teasing give and take just now, his appetite had improved a bit. Indeed, he was rather enjoying himself. As he ate, he realized the Lord had answered his prayers. In the warm, companionable atmosphere of the kitchen, Noah’s earlier misgivings about Beth had all but evaporated. She seemed so at home, so much a part of the family, that he could almost imagine her as a sister or, leastwise, the girl she had once been.

Almost.
Beth was too beautiful to forget her potent appeal completely. But if he considered her as a fine young woman and never allowed his thoughts to progress further, he’d be safe enough. Instead of allowing his mind to turn to more carnal pursuits, he would instead just rejoice in her beauty and be happy for her. Indeed, after all she had gone through as a child, Beth deserved every happiness possible.

“Millie”—Beth’s voice intruded suddenly into Noah’s musings—“why don’t you go on up to bed? Noah and I can finish Emily’s bath, then get her tucked in.”

Noah looked to his aunt. For the first time tonight he noticed how exhausted she appeared. Her face was pale and shadows were smudged beneath her eyes. Remorse at his utter selfishness filled him.

“Yes, you do look tired,” he said. “Go on up to bed. We can finish in here.”

Millie sighed wearily. “That does sound most appealing. Can I trust you, though, to clean at least half that plate if I leave you?”

Noah laughed. “Of course you can. You know you can trust me.”

“Trust that all the food doesn’t end up out the window, but in your stomach?”

“Most certainly. After all, you’ve got Beth as a witness.”

Millie eyed him for a moment. “Yes, I suppose I do. And if you can’t trust a doctor and a priest, who can you trust?”

“My sentiments exactly.” Noah pushed back his chair, stood, and came around to where his aunt sat beside the tub.

“Come along, m’lady.” He grasped her elbow and pulled her to her feet. “Allow me to escort you to your bedchamber.”

As soon as she was standing, Millie laughingly jerked her arm away. “I’m not that decrepit, you young whippersnap–per, that I need an escort to my room. You just sit yourself back down and finish off your supper. That’s all
you
need to do.”

Millie paused only long enough to shoot Beth a grin, then turned and marched from the kitchen. When she was gone, Noah walked back and took his seat.

“She can get a bit feisty at times, Millie can,” he offered by way of explanation. “She’s always been one independent woman. She’s had to be, to move all the way out here as a young woman of twenty in the late 1860s when my uncle got it into his head to start up a church in the middle of the Colorado high plains. Talk about some hard times, not to mention the Indians weren’t all that friendly in those days, either.”

Beth shrugged, then applied some shampoo to Emily’s hair. “By then, the Indians had seen enough to realize the threat the settlers presented. The massacre at Sand Creek wasn’t that many years earlier, you know.”

“They were some of your mother’s people, weren’t they? The Cheyenne, I mean, who died at Sand Creek?”

“Yes, they were.” Beth didn’t look up, apparently intent on scrubbing a squirming Emily’s head. “My mother was a year old. She and her mother were the only ones in their family to survive the massacre.”

“If they’d lived long enough to see it, wouldn’t your mother and grandmother be proud of what you’ve accomplished?”Beth lifted her gaze to meet his. “And what exactly have I accomplished? That I was nearly able to hide my Indian heritage and pass for a white woman? That I so successfully learned white ways that I could attend a white man’s medical school?”

Noah stared at her. He had thought she had shared her heart with him countless times when she was a girl. But Beth had never spoken of the pain of her Indian heritage, not even while she was growing up.

“I suppose I blundered pretty insensitively into that, didn’t I?” he asked after an awkward silence. “I just never realized how proud you were of your Cheyenne heritage.”

“Why would you realize it? I didn’t think about it much myself until, far from the support of my family, I was faced with the unexpected bigotry I encountered back East. Those people, after all, had never encountered Indians, much less suffered at the hands of them, like we out here have.” She gave a harsh laugh. “I earned more than just a medical degree while I was gone. I earned a degree in people, too, and I can’t say as how I liked much of what I learned.”

She glanced down, picked up a folded washcloth, and handed it to him. “I’m ready to rinse Emily’s hair. Why don’t you hold this over her eyes? It’ll help keep most of the soap out of them.”

Noah got up from his chair and placed the washcloth he had taken from Beth over his daughter’s eyes.

“Close your eyes, sweetheart. We’re going to rinse your hair now.”

“Dadadada,” Emily chirped, nodding her head and squirming in the tub.

With his free hand, Noah gently grasped her shoulder to steady her. “Better get this done with as quickly as you can.” He looked up at Beth. “Emily isn’t overly fond of getting her hair rinsed and can raise a ruckus if you take too long at it.”

“So Millie warned me.” Beth grabbed a pitcher. “She said to use this to hasten things along.”

The next fifteen minutes were spent finishing up Emily’s bath, then drying and dressing her in her diapers and nightgown. Leaving Beth to tidy the kitchen, Noah carried his daughter upstairs to bed. He tucked her into her crib, rubbed her back until she fell asleep, and then, his thoughts returning to Beth, headed downstairs.

He had no intention of letting her earlier slip of the tongue pass. He knew enough about pain to realize it didn’t ease until you named it and faced it, enlisting the good Lord’s aid in the doing. He could help Beth; it was his calling and when it came to helping others, he was very good at it.

Problem was, he wasn’t all that good at helping himself anymore.

“Blithering idiot and stupid fool! That’s what I am, and no mistake!”

As Beth worked to clean up after Noah and Emily had departed the kitchen, she repeatedly berated herself for her unfortunate slip of the tongue. It had been hard enough to hide the pain she felt at helping Millie care for Emily. Millie, though, was ill and needed her help. Besides, Beth knew she’d have to get over her self-protective aversion to children sooner or later. But whatever had possessed her to anguish over medical school and the problems she had encountered there to Noah? The priest was an astute man, sensitive to the deeper issues that frequently lay beneath the surface. And he cared, truly cared. Odds were, he wouldn’t let her barely veiled rancor pass.

With a groan, Beth sank into a chair at the table and buried her face in her hands. What was she going to do now? Lie?

“No.” Savagely Beth shook her head. “I’ll not add lying to all my other sins. I’ll not. I’ll just tell Noah it’s none of his business, that I don’t wish to talk about it, and that’ll be that.”

Fortified with that resolve, she went back to work. By the time Noah returned from tucking in his daughter, Beth had set the kitchen aright, save for the dirty bathwater. And though the sight of her host’s handsome face did momentarily unsettle her, Beth’s determination rose immediately around her like the walls of a stone fortress.

Noah said little as he helped her dump the contents of the tub outside. After placing the tub in the enclosed porch, he strode back into the kitchen.

“Want a cup of coffee?” he asked, heading straight for the cookstove. “It’d go right nicely with a big piece of apple pie.”

The last thing Beth wanted to do was settle down at the kitchen table for a cozy little chat. “No, thanks. I think I’ll turn in.”

A fresh mug in one hand, a steaming pot of coffee in the other, Noah turned. “It’s not all that late.” His glance strayed to the small clock on the cupboard. “Why, it’s only a bit after eight. I haven’t had much chance to talk with you since your return. Please stay a while longer so we can catch up.”