Lanterns and Lace (20 page)

Grant helped Jenny crawl up onto the buckboard and sensed a new injury to his right shoulder. The ride back to town proved slow, not like the whirlwind trip earlier in the day. Truthfully, he hurt all over, and the soreness guaranteed tomorrow and the next day would be worse. Still, he felt a sense of satisfaction, or rather gratefulness, that God had used him to unite this family.

Sam had been a bitter man, and he’d often taken it out on his family. His wife and children weren’t the only part of his life that he’d turned his back on. Before Edgar’s accident, Sam had been active in church and a real witness to God’s power and grace. Perhaps now the slow healing process could begin. It would be wonderful to see the Dettermans in church again.

In the faint shadows, Grant stole a glimpse at Jenny. An array of stubborn curls circled her face, and she’d long since given up on trying to tuck them inside her hairpins.

“You were a real help today,” he said. “Thank you for giving up the Fourth of July celebration.”

“I wanted to come, remember? You were magnificent.”

“I got into a fight,” he said. “Not sure how God feels about that.”

“You made sure Aaron wouldn’t be lame.”

“I did my best.” He hesitated. “Are you as tired as I am?”

“If you’re tired enough to sleep in the back of this wagon, then I guess so.” She reached up and pulled the pins from her hair. “And this will help my headache.”

In the pale light cast from the two lanterns lit on both sides of the wagon, he saw a cascade of thick brown curls fall softly around her shoulders. Framed against a half moon, her hair looked to have streaks of gold woven throughout. The sight took his breath away.

Grant didn’t have a firm hold on what he should say, but a mere “thank you” hadn’t seemed like enough. His awkwardness brought a siege of silence. Finally, he decided to speak from the depths of his heart. If only he could see her eyes.

“Jenny,” he began. “I thought Sam and I would battle in words today, not with our fists. Sorry you had to see it. Not once did I hear you scream or cry out. Instead, you gathered up the children and kept them occupied. And I didn’t have to say a word about Mrs. Detterman. You comforted her like you two had been lifelong friends. You’re a strong, courageous woman, and I don’t know anyone else I’d rather have had with me today.”

Her hand lightly brushed over his. “I’m glad I went with you, and I’d do it again.”

“Let’s hope not too soon. My body couldn’t handle it.”

They both laughed despite the gravity of the day’s events.

“Too bad you’re a teacher. I think you’d make an excellent nurse.” He hoped his praise didn’t reveal what lay in his heart.

The closeness of the young woman caused him to wish he didn’t smell of sweat and look twice as nasty as what hit his nostrils. It didn’t seem fair that even in the dim light of the kerosene lanterns, Jenny remained lovely . . . radiant. She took up so much of his thoughts lately. He found himself thinking about her before he went to sleep at night and before he opened his eyes in the morning. Each time he saw his daughter, an image of Jenny took over his senses. They looked too much alike. It distracted him more than a Christian man should allow. What happened to his resolve about not needing a woman? Didn’t being a father and a doctor take up all of his time? What about the slip of paper in his Bible listing all of his requirements for a wife? Besides, this woman couldn’t possibly . . .

“Jenny?”

“Yes?”

“Have you ever been kissed by a sweaty, dirty, black-eyed, bruised, and beaten doctor?”

“No. Can’t say I have.”

“Good.” He pulled the horse to a halt. “You may want to hold your nose,” he said with a halfhearted attempt at humor.

“I don’t think so,” she said.

Wrapping his arms around her small shoulders, he drew her close to him. She trembled in his embrace as he lifted her chin. In the darkness, he envisioned those huge, endless pools of brown, feathered in the longest lashes he’d ever seen.

Slowly he descended upon her lips, gently tasting. The softness increased his desire for more. She seemed fragile to him, like a porcelain doll, but real—and in his arms.

Hesitantly, he pulled back. He wanted to say something, but the words refused to come. What he’d yearned for in a kiss had now manifested itself, and it shook his senses.

Without a doubt, Grant realized he was in love.

Grant opened the door of Martha’s Place shortly before noon. The quiet hit him as such a contrast to the raucous sounds that began after the sun set. He’d been there a few times amid the off-key tunes of the battered piano, the smell of liquor, and the mask of counterfeit happiness. Unfortunately, some of the patrons had a tendency to become violent, and that’s when the knives and guns took over. But today the residents were apparently asleep, except for Martha. She rarely slept.

A strange woman, Mrs. Martha DeMott. No one had ever met Mr. DeMott. Grant doubted if one existed, especially given the relationship she shared with the town’s banker, Lester Hillman, which had resulted in two young sons.

Glancing at the gaudy red and gold decorations, Grant considered the contrast of the church a scant half mile down the road. So much sadness dwelt within the two-story building inappropriately referred to as a “pleasure palace.” Drunkenness, loneliness, unwanted pregnancies, diseases of the trade, and physical abuse all continued while the citizens of Kahlerville looked down their noses and closed their minds to the despair.

Grant called out for Martha. He knew her ways—she’d keep him waiting until she decided to venture into the front area with a sweet look of surprise. He pulled out the newspaper from under his arm and began to read.

“Grant, what a pleasure.” Martha strolled into the room, looking as grand at midday as she did at midnight.

With an inward smile, he folded the paper. “Can you spare me a moment?” he said.

She tilted her head and batted her eyes. “For you, I can spare an hour.”

He laughed. “Now, Martha. We’d set the town’s tongues wagging.”

She nodded, almost sadly. He often wondered if she regretted her profession, even if she was the richest woman in town. “Best we talk in my office.” She whirled around, and he followed.

Oh, the role he played to pacify this woman who made money from the sinful pleasures of men. But how would she ever see Jesus through condemning eyes and wagging tongues?

“I won’t waste your time, Martha. I want to know who told you that Ellen Kahler and Jenny Martin had plans to open a brothel.”

She frowned. “Why?”

“Because it’s not true. Ellen is happily married, and Jenny is only visiting.”

“My, you do draw the Martin girls, don’t you?”

He swallowed the sarcasm he itched to unleash. “What if the person who lied to you was more interested in causing trouble than in telling you the truth?”

Martha leaned in closer. The neckline of her dress needed . . . adjustment. Grant glanced away.

“Tell me more,” she said.

“I don’t have any more to say. I have a hunch all is not as it seems.”

Martha wrapped her slender fingers around a cup of coffee. “Life is seldom what it seems, Grant. A trusted person told me about their plans.”

“Know what I think?” Grant studied her face.

Before she could respond, the door opened, and two small boys raced inside. The endearing smile on Martha’s face confirmed Grant’s belief that she loved those boys with all of her heart.

“How are my sons?” she said and drew the younger one into her lap while tousling the hair of the other.

“Very good, Mama,” the older boy said.

Martha kissed them both. “Can you go play for a few more minutes? Then I will join you.”

“Yes, ma’am,” the older one said and took the hand of his brother. A tear coursed down the younger boy’s face. “It’s all right. Mama will be with us soon.”

Deeply moved, Grant saw in Martha’s sons the affection he and Rebecca shared. A penetrating thought settled on him. Martha would do anything for her children. He also had seen the fondness she and Lester shared. The relationship was wrong. Nevertheless, the feelings between them were strong.

Once the door closed, Martha turned her attention to him.

“Those are fine boys, Martha,” he said.

“Yes. They are. Thank you for keeping their father a secret.”

He nodded. But Ben knows. “Is someone trying to blackmail him?”

She gasped—a rarity considering her otherwise guarded emotions. “Whatever for?”

Grant paused. He needed to put himself in Martha and Lester’s shoes. “Someone could have learned about the boys. Someone who didn’t care who they hurt. Someone who was clever and wanted something from you.”

She stared at him, her eyes gleaming with something akin to revulsion. “You don’t know what you’re talking about, Grant. No such thing is going on.”

He hadn’t expected her to respond any differently, but the truth glared back at him. If Turner had traveled all this distance to recover his money, he’d most likely find a way to compensate for his efforts in another devious way.

*****

Grant listened intently to the rhythmic sounds of Jake Weather’s heart. Satisfied that it beat strong and steady, he moved the stethoscope across the chest to his lungs. Deep, even breathing provided additional proof of the old man’s remarkable good health. Excellent hearing, keen eyesight, and a sharp mind kept him the envy of men half his age.

“Jake, you’ll outlive me.” Grant picked up Jake’s faded blue shirt and assisted him in putting on the garment.

“The Lord’s smilin’ on me.” A wide grin spread across the wiry old man’s face.

“He must be,” Grant responded, “but I don’t see how you do it. You smoke too much, drink your own whiskey, work like an ox, and never miss a church service. According to my records, you must be eighty-four years old.”

The old man chuckled. “I think eighty-six. Doesn’t matter nohow. I’m old, real old. So, I’m fine, Doc?”

“Excellent. Your heart and lungs are good. Your skin’s a good color, and your only complaint is aching bones. I figure you’ll live to be a hundred at least.”

Jake laughed until his skeletal body shook. “I’ll double your fee for that report.” He pulled a wad of bills from his pants pocket and slapped them on the examining table. “Believe I’ll see how Miss Mimi is doing before I leave.”

The two ambled into the kitchen, and Grant noticed his chubby housekeeper suddenly found a tremendous amount of energy, for she immediately listed what all needed to be done before lunch. Her hustling and bustling about the kitchen soon caused her face to flush pink. Grant excused himself, leaving Mimi alone with old Jake.

Before Grant had the opportunity to record Jake’s examination into his file, Ben called from the front hallway. “Grant, the baby’s coming.” He broke into a coughing spasm.

Grant knew better than to question the respiratory problem and his brother-in-law’s failing health. In the past when he had expressed concern, Ben had lectured him on borrowing trouble.

“How far apart are Bonnie’s pains?” he said once Ben caught his breath.

“Two minutes, and her water broke. I came as fast as I could.”

Grant remembered his sister’s last baby had arrived within an hour after her labor started. Lifting his medical bag from the examination table, he hurried toward the kitchen. “Bonnie’s baby is on its way, Mimi. I’ll be back as quickly as I can.”

“Do you want to take your lunch with you?” she said, her cheeks a bit pinker than before.

“No, thanks. You can let Jake have it.”

The old man eased up behind her. “I’ll look after Mimi and the little one while yer gone.”

“I knew I could count on you.” Grant winked at Mimi’s seething face. Suddenly, guilt took over his practical joking. “Tell you what—if I’m not back in an hour, go on home. Mimi and Rebecca are used to my absence.”

Outside, the two men climbed into Ben’s buggy for the short ride to the Kahler home. The stylish house stood about two miles east of town on nearly three hundred acres. The home boasted elegance and grandeur unlike any other for miles around. A decorator from Dallas had advised Bonnie on the interior furnishings, and most of the furniture had come from back East.

Ben owned a profitable cattle ranch and had made several wise investments while working as the town sheriff. The Kahler family did well in this town, and Ben’s family lacked for nothing. Grant always wondered why he stayed on as the town’s sheriff. But Ben insisted he found tremendous satisfaction in keeping the town safe for its citizens.

His brother-in-law started to speak, but the coughing halted his words. This bout lasted longer than the previous one.

“I don’t want Bonnie having any more children,” Ben finally said.

Maybe now Grant would learn the truth. “Why not? She’s healthy and hasn’t had any trouble with the other two.”

“Bonnie isn’t the problem. I don’t want her raising more than three children alone.” He lifted his hat and wiped the sweat from his brow with a starched white handkerchief.

Grant hesitated. “Ben, you don’t know that for sure.”

“I saw a doctor in Dallas about a month ago. I hope you don’t mind, but I couldn’t talk to you about it after I’d lost my temper. Pride has a way of doing things to a man.”

Grant nodded. “I’m just glad you sought medical attention. What did the doctor say?”

He paused and took a deep breath as though fighting off another coughing spell. “Either move to Arizona where it’s dry and I might get better, or settle my affairs,” he said with a labored breath. “I believe the Bible phrases it as ‘putting your house in order.’”

Although Grant had long suspected the advanced stages of a lung sickness, the news devastated him. “Have you told Bonnie?”

“No. At first I didn’t want to bother her with it until after the baby came, but now I don’t think I’ll tell her at all.”

“Arizona is a fine place.”

“Maybe so, but I’m not uprooting my wife from her family and friends. You know your sister. She’s lived a sheltered life. Emotionally, she couldn’t stand leaving Kahlerville. It might do more harm than good.”

“So you’d rather die a premature death?” Grant studied Ben’s pale skin and cavernous eyes. “You think it’d be easier for her to handle being a widow with three children to raise on her own?”

“Don’t preach to me.” Ben coughed and his body shook. “I’m sorry. Look, Grant, this is the best way for all concerned. Bonnie and the children will be with family, and she won’t have any money worries. My finances, or rather, my affairs, are in order.”

“Promise me you’ll pray about this,” Grant said. “There are fine hospitals back East.”

“I have been, and I’ll continue. But I’d appreciate it if you’d keep our conversation to yourself.”

Grant nodded. “I’ll not say a word, but I want to talk more about this later. Right now let’s get your new baby born.”

He shrugged his thin shoulders. “Who knows? I might get better. God may see fit for me to watch my children grow up.”

Grant chose to change the topic of their conversation. “Remember how upset Bonnie was when she went into labor the first time?”

“And do I. She wanted a midwife, not her brother.”

“I didn’t think my little sister could argue and go through birthing pains at the same time.”

Ben nodded. “She was so embarrassed with the thought of her brother delivering her baby. If I hadn’t insisted upon it, she’d never have consented.”

“I understood her modesty. We grew up together, scrapping like brothers and sisters do. But when I delivered Zach and then Michael Paul, she trusted me as her doctor, not as her teasing brother.”

“I just love her so much.”

Hearing those words, Grant realized Ben would die a premature death before upsetting his beloved Bonnie with the news about his health.

Within the hour, Bonnie gave birth to a healthy little girl. From the moment she opened her eyes and wailed her first announcement into the world, Grant saw she seized her father’s heart. Without a doubt, she looked every bit like her mother—big crystal blue eyes, a pert little mouth, and an oval face.

“Just look at that bald head.” Grant chuckled. “She’ll be a blond for sure.”

Ben smiled and leaned over his wife. “What are we going to name her, sweetheart?”

Bonnie sighed happily, although exhausted. “I like the name we talked about—Lydia Anne.”

“Perfect,” her husband whispered, and planted kisses on both of his girls’ foreheads.

While Bonnie slept, Ben went after the reverend and Jocelyn. Remaining behind at his sister’s bedside, Grant’s thoughts flew back to the newly acquired information about Ben. This was not the first time he’d been asked to keep a patient’s diagnosis confidential, but this man was family.

Then again, he didn’t need to be reminded about his brother-in-law’s protective nature when it came to Bonnie. Since the day they’d met, Ben had guarded her from anything unpleasant and showered her with everything money could buy. Even their father before he died had spoiled Bonnie, and later Morgan fell into the same habit. Their mother and Grant had been united in their endeavors to force Bonnie to take on responsibilities, but their efforts were futile when it came to Ben.

Now Grant feared his sister wouldn’t be strong enough to endure her husband’s impending death, and there were three children to consider. He commended her mothering abilities, but could she bring up those children alone?

If only his brother-in-law’s fears were unfounded, but he’d observed the changes in Ben for months—and Morgan had expressed concern when the man failed to perform routine law matters. But God performed miracles. Grant saw His divine mercy and grace every day within his own profession. Yet sometimes God called for a man to alter his mind-set—even a stubborn man like Ben Kahler.

Grant lightly touched Bonnie’s cheek, his beautiful sister, asleep with a new baby resting in her arms. Was she ready to deal with the harsh realities of life? He wanted desperately to believe so. Smiling down at his tiny niece all wrinkled and pink, he was reminded of his Rebecca. Birth always prompted a sense of awe in him. Silently Grant gave the matter over to God, determined not to worry about Ben and Bonnie but recognizing his own flaws of perfectionism and determination to be in control. God on His mighty throne knew the needs of them all, and Grant must rest in that assurance.

He retrieved his Bible from the medical bag and turned to a familiar passage. He really didn’t need to look it up, for he’d memorized the words. Finding Philippians 4:6 and 7, he closed his eyes and allowed the scripture to be his earnest prayer: “Be careful for nothing; but in everything by prayer and supplication with thanksgiving let your requests be made known unto God. And the peace of God, which passeth all understanding, shall keep your hearts and minds through Christ Jesus.”