Dorothy Garlock (11 page)

April slipped the gown over her head, flipped off the light and got into bed. A minute or two later she heard a muffled sound somewhere in the house and rose up on her elbow to listen. When she heard nothing else, she sank back down and let her mind wander over the magical events of the evening.

No more than a dozen feet away, on the other side of the partition that separated April’s room from Fred’s, Fred quickly turned out the light, lest it shine through the small holes in the wall he used to watch her. He was breathing heavily and holding his erection.

This had been the best. It had been worth staying up and waiting for her. It even helped dull the disappointment he had felt when she didn’t take a bath or use the toilet while he watched from the storage room before supper.

Tonight he had seen her walk around the room totally naked. Her breasts, her bush, her buttocks—he’d seen all that glorious bare skin.

Other times he had seen only parts of her—her breasts without a bra and one time when she took off her panties. He had gotten a view of the feathery bush between her legs, but not for very long. He was looking forward to the time when he could watch from the storage room while she stripped naked and took a bath.

He chuckled silently, gloatingly. He’d seen more of her than the damn Jones boys, who thought that they were God’s gift to women.

Fred crept back to the bed and eased down on his knees beside it. While visions of April, delightfully naked, played in his mind, he slipped his erection between the mattress and a pillow that rested on the springs and rocked back and forth.

Chapter 8

T
HE SKY WAS JUST BEGINNING TO LIGHTEN
in the east when Dr. Forbes left the house and drove toward the river. The hour before dawn was the quietest time of the morning, and the sound of the car engine was loud and abrasive to him. The medical bag that was never far from his side was on the seat beside him. Two large brown paper sacks, one from each of the grocery stores in town, were on the floor of the car.

Thank the good Lord there had been no rain for the past forty-eight hours. The road should be dry enough for him to drive right up to the house. God, how he hated having to sneak around to be with her, but if it were known that the doctor was seeing Caroline Deval and wanted to marry her, people would not allow him to treat them even if they were dying.

He prayed that in the near future he and Caroline would be able to walk hand in hand down a street and no one would gawk or sneer. It wasn’t right that because of the dab of colored blood in her veins she was considered inferior or that a white man who took her for a wife was thought of as trash.

Wife.

There wasn’t a preacher or a judge in the state of Missouri who would marry them even if they could obtain a license.

A month ago he contacted an agency in western Canada. He had read in a journal that many small towns in that area were in need of a doctor. He wouldn’t make much money, but it would be enough to get by and support his family.

Dear God, wanting her, wanting to be with her, to take care of her, is eating me alive!

Now was not the time to try to sell his practice. But when the time came, and he didn’t have any offers, he would walk away and leave it without any qualms whatsoever. He still had the inheritance from his father to fall back on. Being far from home was a small price to pay to be with the woman he loved. His sisters would understand. Of all the people in Tennessee, they might be the only ones who would see beneath Caroline’s skin color.

Doc had felt a little guilty about bringing April to Fertile knowing that he didn’t intend to stay here. But after observing how efficient she was, he knew he had made a good choice. She could set an arm or leg and tend most emergencies as well as he could, although she couldn’t prescribe medication. If Fertile were unable to get a doctor right away, she would be able to handle most things that came up. He wouldn’t be leaving the town high and dry.

Doc turned onto the river road and, careful to stay in the middle of the road, had no difficulty going the mile to where he turned into the lane leading to the house. If Caroline was awake and heard the car, he hoped that she would know that it was he and not be frightened.

He drove behind the heavy stand of lilac bushes that would shield the car from the road. He could just imagine the stink that would be created if the people of Fertile found out he was visiting Caroline Deval this time of morning. He had heard the snide remarks made about her, suggesting she made her living whoring. He’d had to keep his temper and calmly explain that her father had left her enough money to live on. God, how he hated narrow-minded, bigoted people.

Damn, he just wanted to take her and get the hell out of town with the least fuss possible. He wanted to go someplace where he could live with her openly, introduce her as his wife, make her the mother of his children.

Doc had deliberately turned the car so that the headlights shone on the shack set back in the trees. The door opened, and a large colored man came out, stood for a minute, waved his hand and went back inside and closed the door. Silas was ever watchful. He was worth every dollar Doc paid him.

Lamplight shone from the kitchen window by the time Doc got the groceries out of the car. The door was open when he reached it.

“Todd? Is something wrong?” Caroline, in a long night-dress, her curly black hair covering her shoulders and cascading down her back, stood in the doorway.

“No. Nothing is wrong. I just couldn’t wait another day to see you.”

She stood aside for him to enter. He placed the sacks on the table, turned and pulled her into his arms. Hugging her close, his nose against her face, breathing in the scent of her, he felt as if he had, at last, come home. Gently and reverently he kissed her lips before raising his head and looking down at her.

“Are you all right?”

“I’m fine. And you?”

“I am now that I’m h-here with you.”

Her arms encircled his neck. “Oh, Todd. I’m nothing but trouble for you.”

“Don’t say that,” he scolded. “I never started to live until I found you.” He held her away from him and looked down into her face. “Did you start your m-monthly flow, sweetheart?”

She shook her head. Her large expressive eyes filled quickly with tears.

“Honey. Do you hate it s-so much?” His hands came up to frame her face.

“I’ll be bringing another child into the world to be just like . . . me.”

“Lord, I hope so. I hope it’s just like you.”

He kissed the tears from her eyes and ran his hands down over her slender hips. She had missed one period, but he had thought she just might be late. After missing two periods it was possible that she was pregnant with his child. He couldn’t help but smile to think that a little bit of him was growing inside this precious woman.

She unbuttoned his shirt and snuggled her face against his bare chest.

“Ah sweetheart. I don’t w-want you to be sorry. I should have waited until I b-brought you a diaphragm. But I wanted you so and th-thought I’d die if I didn’t have you.” He trailed kisses over her face.

“It isn’t all your fault. I wanted you, too.”

“If there’s a b-baby, we’ll be away from here and married before it comes. I p-promise.”

She looked at him with tears rolling down her cheeks. “We can’t marry, Todd. You know that.”

“We can in Canada, honey. Many n-nationalities are darker than you are. Up there no one will even question.”

“But you’ll know and . . . I’ll know.”

“I knew the f-first time I came here to t-treat your father. My life changed forever that day. He told me how it was to be an outcast because he l-lived with the love of his life, your mother, who had colored blood.”

“My great-grandfather was white, as was my mother’s father and, of course, my dear papa. Why is it that I have ten times more white blood than colored, yet I’m more readily accepted by the coloreds than the whites?”

“I don’t know, honey. I think it goes way b-back to the days b-before the Civil War.” He sat down in a chair and pulled her down and cuddled her on his lap. He tucked her bare feet up and covered them with her gown. “Have I t-told you about Jody, my childhood friend? He l-lived in the hills above Harpersville, Tennessee.

“Jody could run like a deer, but b-because he was colored, he wasn’t permitted to p-participate in the games held each year on the Fourth of July. We thought it so unfair that my younger s-sister and I and some of our f-friends urged him to run in the footraces even if he had to start fifty p-paces behind the other runners because he was s-sure that he could win.

“Jody won that race. And much to the chagrin of the city officials, they were f-forced to give him the p-prize.”

“Was he very black?”

“Black as could be.” Todd chuckled. “And feisty. He had a chip on his shoulder the size of an oak t-tree. The t-town had a stupid law that c-colored folk were not allowed in town after the s-sun went down. One time Jody was at our house, and the t-time got away from us. Instead of going around town and into the hills, he ran right down the m-middle of Main Street at dusk and thumbed his nose at the sheriff, who s-stood on the walk in front of the jail.”

“What happened to him?”

“Nothing. The sheriff was a good sort. Later my sister’s husband s-sent Jody away to school. He was smart, worked hard at his studies and n-now he’s an acclaimed p-professor of botany at the Alabama Tuskegee Institute.”

“You know, I had a sister, but she and Mama died the same day. They got the influenza during the war.”

“Then there was j-just you and your papa. He g-guarded you from those who would have m-mistreated you.”

“He worried that he would die and leave me, and that’s just what he did.”

“He lived long enough to know that I would take care of you.” His voice was thick with emotion. “I p-promised him, sweetheart.” He cradled her in his arms and lifted her face so he could place soft kisses on her lips. “I love you m-more than anything in the world.”

“I love you . . . too.” Her voice broke on a sob. “But I’m afraid of what I’m doing to you.”

“Ah . . . little darlin’, you’ve b-brought untold joy to my life. I live for the hours I s-spend with you. I don’t want you to be afraid e-ever again. Silas will always w-watch out for you when I’m not here. He’ll not l-let any of the river trash near you.” His hand stroked her flat stomach before unbuttoning the front of her nightdress and slipping a hand inside to reverently caress a small, firm breast. “The first time I came h-here, you captured my h-heart and have been c-constantly in my thoughts.”

“Papa talked about you after you left that day. He said I could trust you.” A shudder went through her as if she were shaking off a shadow of old grief and fears.

“You do trust me to take care of you, don’t you, sweet-heart?” The longing in his voice made her heart ache. She brought his lips down to hers and spoke against them.

“With my life, my heart, my everything. Forever.”

They exchanged soft, sweet kisses.

“Will you go to b-bed with me, darlin’ girl? I want to love you,” he whispered urgently.

“I will go to the farthest corner of the earth with you.” He set her on her feet and took her hand.

A knock on the door awakened April.

“Miss Asbury?”

“Yes.”

“The operator is on the phone.”

“Thank you. I’ll be right there.”
So much for sleeping on Sunday morning.

April’s feet hit the floor and found the soft slippers she kept there. She shrugged into a robe, belted it and opened the door. Mrs. Poole was on the stairs. April followed her to the wall phone in the kitchen.

“Hello. This is Miss Asbury.”

“I’m looking for Dr. Forbes. He isn’t at home or in his office.” The operator sounded as if she were offended.

“He may have gone down to check on the river. Is there an emergency?”

“Mrs. Watson has been to the house. Her daughter has a very painful boil under her arm. She’s been up with her all night.”

“Where is she now?”

“Here in the office.”

“Tell her that I’ll meet her at the clinic in ten minutes.” April hung up the phone and raced upstairs. She dressed quickly, slipped her bare feet into a pair of sandals and ran the comb through her hair. She grabbed up her purse and was out of the house in five minutes. The block to the clinic seemed extra long. A woman and a young girl got out of a car as she approached it. The girl was holding her arm over her head.

April unlocked the door and held it open for them.

“It hurts.” The girl, about ten or eleven years old, had tears in her eyes.

“I’m sure it does, honey. Boils are mean. Come in here and let’s see what we can do to give you some relief.”

While April scrubbed her hands, the mother helped to remove the girl’s dress and to get her up on the table, where she could lie down. The boil was big, angry and, no doubt, terribly painful.

“I put the yolk of an egg on it trying to draw it to a head,” said the mother. “When that didn’t work, I put on a bread and milk poultice.”

“Both of those are good but boils can be stubborn. Honey”—April addressed the girl—“there are two things we can do. We can put a hot poultice on it that will eventually draw it to a head, or I can nick the boil with a knife so it will drain. The poultice will take longer; the cut from the knife will hurt for just an instant, but you’ll get quick relief.”

“I want it over.” Tears streamed from the corners of her eyes.

“You’re a brave girl. I would be blubbering like a baby if I had this thing under my arm. I’ll get things ready.”

Minutes later April had the supplies on the cart beside the table. She had covered the sharp sterilized scalpel with a mound of gauze to keep the girl from seeing it.

“When I was your age, I had a boil on my bottom. At first I was too embarrassed to tell my grandma. Hold her arm over her head,” April said to the mother. “I had to sit in school all one day on one hip because it hurt so bad. You can bet I told my granny when I got home. She fried some onions and made a poultice. I lay with that poultice all night long. When morning came, it hadn’t done a blasted thing to bring that stubborn boil to a head.”