Donovan's Daughter (The Californians, Book 4) (17 page)

It took most of the day for Marcail to really believe that
her marriage had brought her students back to school.
Her classroom was full, and other than a slight change in
Sydney's disposition, things were as usual.

She told the children her new name and wrote it on the
blackboard. Except for Sydney, very few children made
mistakes with her new name as the day progressed.
Marcail knew he wasn't even trying to call her by her
married name.

It had never occurred to Marcail that the 11-year-old's
infatuation with her would cause him to experience such violent jealousy, but it became suddenly evident with the
way he grew angry when she gave special attention to
any of the other boys. Now that she had married, he was
becoming impossible.

Marcail was filled with compassion for the way he felt,
but she knew she had to redevelop the respect they'd
shared in weeks past. She decided to give him a few more
days before she took him aside to insist that he call her
Mrs. Montgomery.

The day flew by as Marcail knew it would, and just as
she was dismissing the children, Alex came in the door.
Most of her students greeted him cordially and by name.
Marcail was amazed at how accepting they all seemed of
the situation.

"I came by to give you a ride home," Alex offered. He
knew he was staring, but Marcail appeared as fresh to
him as she had been that morning, and he knew she'd
just taught 19 children for seven hours.

"I appreciate the offer, but I was planning to walk into
town. There are a number of things I-that is, weneed." It felt a little funny to be discussing this with
Alex, but Marcail knew she was going to have to get used
to it, and he didn't seem to notice her slip.

'All right," Alex agreed. "I'll walk with you, but then I
need to return to the office. When you are finished,
come by."

Marcail agreed and after gathering her things, preceded Alex out the door. They didn't talk much on the
way into town, and Alex touched her arm by way of
farewell when he left her at the door of the bank.

Marcail had to stand in line at the teller's window. She
couldn't see around the tall man in front of her, but as
soon as he moved, she was surprised to see that no one
was there to help her. She waited only a moment before
Mr. Flynn himself came from the rear of the bank.

"How are you, Mrs. Montgomery?" He hesitated over
the name, but his eyes sought hers, begging her to understand his position.

"I'm doing very well, Mr. Flynn," Marcail told him
graciously, even though she disagreed with the way he
had handled things. She could see that her words lifted a
burden of guilt from his shoulders, and he told her he
would handle her transaction himself.

"I need three dollars from my account," Marcail explained. "And then I'd like you to close my account
and move my money into Dr. Montgomery's account. I
haven't checked with Alex, but is it all right to add my
name to his account?"

"It's fine." Mr. Flynn's voice was hoarse, but Marcail
didn't notice. For some reason, Marcail's request to join
her funds to her husband's touched him deeply. His wife
had told him she thought Miss Donovan was a very
special young woman who deserved to be treated better
than she was. Now he was convinced of it himself.

Marcail's next stop was Vesperman's General Store.
She shopped carefully, thinking that she didn't really
know Alex's tastes. Figuring she couldn't go wrong with
the essentials, Marcail opted for flour, sugar, salt, soda,
coffee, rice, and yeast. Her last item was a tin of salted
peanuts. She knew it was an extravagance, but Marcail
was in the mood to bake and knew these would be good
in cookies.

The street was quite slushy, but Marcail took a long
route to Alex's office and avoided most of the mud. She
wasn't thrilled about being there, but with her hand on
the door, she took a deep breath and went inside.

Marcail stood very still and looked around the small
waiting room without really seeing anything. Her heart
thundered in her chest, and even though she told herself
to calm down, fear gripped her. She tried to examine the
reason for her anxiety, but as in the past, the only thing
that came to mind was her mother's face.

It wasn't at all logical, but for so many years it seemed
to Marcail that it was the doctor's fault her mother had
died. They had been a happy, settled family. Then, when
Marcail was nine, the doctor had come to see Mother. He
hadn't caused her illness, but he had diagnosed it, and
Marcail had struggled for years to believe that none of
her mother's rapid decline had been his fault. To this day
she was terrified of doctors and everything relating to
them.

Maybe her sister hadn't handled the situation very
well; maybe Kaitlin should have insisted that Marcail see
a doctor when she was sick. But because the mere mention of a visit from this dreaded man was enough to make
any condition Marcail had worse, Katie had never insisted she go. Instead Katie herself talked with the
doctor to find out how to treat her. Thankfully, there had never been anything more serious than a bee sting or a
spring cold.

Now she found herself not only standing in the Willits'
doctor's office, but actually married to the doctor himself.

"Hi."

Marcail jumped at the sound of Alex's voice and wondered from where he had materialized.

"You looked lost in thought just then."

"I guess I was," Marcail answered as her gaze roamed
the room. "I'm still getting used to the idea of being
married to a doctor." Marcail didn't realize how that
might have sounded until it was out of her mouth. Her
gaze flew to Alex,-but-he was smiling.

"You're not easily offended, are you?" Marcail asked
softly, more to herself than anyone else.

"No, I'm not," Alex answered, having heard her
clearly. 'As I said before, I like your honesty. Come, I'll
take you home."

As with the few times she had ridden with Alex,
Marcail tried to make herself as comfortable as possible
without leaning on her new husband. Alex, however,
had clearly tired of her trying to put space between
them. His chest and arms surrounded her as he held the
reins in an easy hold. Marcail wasn't sure how she felt
about this, but the ride was brief, and she wasn't forced
to examine her feelings too closely.

Alex tied Kelsey at the door and walked his wife inside.
Marcail put her basket on the table and was removing her
coat when she noticed that the furniture had been rearranged.

The kitchen table was closer to the bedroom door than it had been, and Marcail could not see the living room
sofa from where she stood. She stepped into the living
room and her eyes widened with surprise.

The small sofa was on another wall, giving Marcail's
"bed" almost complete privacy from the kitchen area.
One of the wardrobes had been moved from the bedroom along with a small chest of drawers. Alex had done
a nice job of fitting in the added pieces to go with the
tables, chair, and bookshelf. In short, he had given Marcail a very private area for sleeping and dressing.

"I put your blanket and pillow in the bottom of the
wardrobe. That little dresser was in the barn, so you
might want to wipe it out."

Marcail turned to the man who spoke softly behind
her. "Thank you, Alex."

"You're welcome. I have to get back to the office, but
I'll be home around 5:00."

He left then, and Marcail stood for a long time at the
window watching him go. He was nothing whatever like
she had imagined. What kind of man stepped in to
rescue a woman in need and then rearranged his home
to suit her when she was little more than a stranger?

No answers came to mind. Marcail knew that she
could stand there all day and speculate, but that would
accomplish nothing. With a determined stride she attacked her basket of groceries, putting everything away.
She started supper, and then moved to the living room to
settle her clothing in the dresser drawers and wardrobe.

The now-familiar headache was beginning, and Marcail had to stop herself from ripping the pins from her
hair. Both she and Alex were swiftly losing all privacy,
and Marcail couldn't dispel the feeling that she would be
further embarrassed in front of Alex if he came home
and her hair was down.

No one in Willits, save Allie and her mother, had ever
seen her hair down, but Marcail knew that at least part of
the reason for her maintaining the severe style lay elsewhere. She looked very young without the piles of thick
hair atop her head.

But headache or no, there was work to be done, and
Marcail set about her tasks. By the time Alex came in the
door, supper was ready and Marcail's personal effects
were all put away. They ate in companionable silence.
After Alex helped with the dishes, he asked Marcail to
come back to the table so they could discuss their schedules.

"Do you feel all right?" were the first words from Alex.

"Yes, I'm fine," Marcail answered him without thought.

What she didn't realize was that her pain showed on
her face. Her forehead was slightly furrowed, and her
eyes told Alex that she was tired, worried, or in some
type of pain. He knew he couldn't push her, but he
honestly wished she would tell him what was wrong.

Indeed, it was a good thing that Alex didn't push her,
because Marcail wouldn't have known what he was talking about. Since she couldn't always take her hair down
when she liked, her headaches had become a way of life
with her. Had Alex pressed her, she'd have lost some of
the ease she was beginning to feel around him.

"Now, about our schedules," Alex began, and they sat
for over an hour comparing times and preferences for
the weeks to come.

Alex's schedule was much more flexible, so he told
Marcail he would be taking her to school and bringing
her home each day, at least until the roads dried out.

They found that they both liked to go to bed at the
same time and, with the exception of Saturday morning,
got up within a half hour of each other. Marcail brought up the problem of disturbing Alex if she moved about in
the kitchen. His response was a broad smile.

"If your banging around means that I get to wake up to
a hot cup of coffee, you can bang all you want. At least I
don't have to worry about waking you."

Marcail looked uncomfortable. "You know about that,
do you?"

"Um hm. In fact, you scared me a little the night of the
snowstorm. I kept checking your breathing to see if you
were still with me."

"I sleep very soundly," Marcail explained unnecessarily.

"That, my sweet Marcail," Alex told her with a chuckle,
"is a gross understatement."

Marcail couldn't help but smile in return. "My brother
loves telling people how soundly Katie and I sleep. His
favorite story is about the time he held me by my feet one
night, my head nearly brushing the floor, and I slept
through the whole thing."

"I can believe it. When I carried you to bed that night, I
thought you would wake the moment I placed you
against those cool sheets, but you only curled into a ball
and slept the night away."

A faint blush began to cover Marcail's cheeks, and
Alex's eyes sparkled impishly. "I have a sister who blushes
as easily as you do, and I think I'd better warn you, my
brothers and I tease the life out of her just to see it
happen."

Alex shouted with laughter when Marcail's face became even redder. He watched as she bit her lip and
sobered instantly.

"What does that worried look mean?"

"I've just never thought about meeting your family. I
mean, I didn't realize you had a family." Marcail realized how silly that sounded as soon as she said it, but as she
was coming to expect, Alex was amused.

"You must think that doctors crawl out from beneath
rocks."

His words brought such a hysterical image to mind
that a small laugh escaped Marcail before she could
muffle it.