Loving Bella (6 page)

Setting out toward Charity House, Shane lifted his head and instantly realized he wasn’t alone on the wooden-slatted sidewalk. A tall figure strode in his direction, bearing down hard. And with each purposeful step, Beauregard O’Toole looked less like a compassionate preacher and more an overprotective big brother.

His face scrunched into a frown, Beau stopped a scarce two feet in front of Shane. His jaw was set at a rock-hard angle as he said, “Just the man I came to see.”

Shane couldn’t fault the hard tone. If Miss O’Toole had been his own sister he’d feel the same urge to protect.

“Beau.” Shane nodded, bracing for the fight that was riding between them on the pounding wind. “I don’t need to guess why you’re here.”

The wind shifted, crashed over them.

Both men held their ground.

“Bella can
not
be your assistant.”

Shane’s breath turned hot in his lungs. The monumental consequences of losing her so soon struck him like a blow to his gut, hitting like a heavy, leaden weight. “Did she send you to say that?”

“I sent myself. In spite of my arguments, she’s bent on this new direction in her life.” The frustration in the man’s eyes confirmed the truth of his words. “Since she’s stubborn as a mule, you need to be the clear thinker here.”

“I see.” Shane tried to keep his tone mild, but his answer sounded a little too gleeful, even over the howling blasts of air. He erased all emotion from his expression and added, “Perhaps we should have this discussion out of the cold.”

Beau gave him a long look before nodding in agreement. “Lead the way.”

Neither spoke as Shane retraced his steps and unlocked the door to his office.

He directed Beau to enter ahead of him.

The set of the other man’s jaw alerted Shane that the conversation was far from over. Absently, he shoved at his hair. Frustration. Guilt. He didn’t have room for either.

Nevertheless, he would hear his friend out. They had a history of working well together. While Shane attended to a patient’s physical health, Beau ministered to the spiritual. With God guiding their hands and words, they made a powerful team.

Circling the room, Beau paused to scrub a hand over his face. “You can’t hire Bella,” he repeated through clenched teeth. “She’s not a nurse. She’s an opera singer.”

Shane bristled. He found himself caught between defending his decision and honoring his friendship with this man. “According to your sister, she has taken a self-imposed sabbatical.”

Beau rolled his shoulders, then sighed. “There’s more to the story. Something’s wrong. I don’t like that she showed up, tight-lipped and unannounced.”

Ah. Miss O’Toole had yet to explain herself to her brother. Oddly enough, Shane wasn’t surprised. “And that’s your only concern? That she’s hiding something from you?”

Closing his eyes, Beau shook his head. “You have to understand, Bella isn’t like most women.”

Remembering the courage she’d displayed with Ethan, the compassion in her manner, the instant display of rebellion when Beau had first shown up, Shane gave an ironic lift of his eyebrows. “Well, that certainly needed clearing up.”

Beau’s lips twitched but instead of responding right away, he walked to a row of books and ran a finger along the spines.

Shane gauged the mood in the room and decided on a tactic. The brother might not hear his words, but surely the preacher would. “I remember you telling me once that if a man waits to be certain of a course of action, he’s sure to be too late. Those were your exact words. I know. I wrote them down.”

Beau’s shoulders stiffened before he spun on his heel to glare at Shane. “I was referring to God’s Will for
your
life.”

Shane allowed himself a tight smile of satisfaction. “Precisely.”

Beau crossed his arms over his chest. Genuine concern fell across his face. “Bella has never lived in the real world. Her whole life has been about make-believe and fantasy. She doesn’t understand anything outside the theater.”

Studying his friend’s expression closely, Shane leaned a shoulder against the wall. Again, he appealed to the preacher and not the brother. “The most unlikely people can demonstrate courage. And given her lack of experience, perhaps it’s time Miss O’Toole left the opera for a while.”

“Don’t misunderstand me. I’m glad she’s left. In fact, I’m relieved. At least, in theory.” Beau started pacing through the room, slapping a fist against his thigh as he walked. “We both know the perils of
that
life.”

Shane nodded gravely. The Denver brothels were filled with women who had failed on the stage. Whether due to lack of talent or disappearing youth, far too many women had nowhere else to go and no hope of gaining respectable employment.

“It’s whatever drove Bella to leave the opera that worries me,” Beau continued. “Something terrible happened to her in London.”

Why deny the truth? Shane, too, believed something bad had happened to Miss O’Toole. But instead of concern at the thought, certainty filled him. The woman was meant to be here, in Denver, assisting him instead of singing opera. There was something else happening here, something bigger than any of them understood.

Something from God.

All along, Shane had assumed Miss O’Toole had been led to him by the Lord in order to assist in his practice. But maybe—
maybe
—she’d been brought to Shane for a bigger reason.

One he couldn’t comprehend just yet, and probably wasn’t supposed to. As Beau often said when he was thinking like a preacher and not a worried brother, it all came down to walking in faith.

“Perhaps this is just what your sister needs,” Shane suggested. “A safe environment to spread her wings and—”

“Safe?”
Beau stopped pacing to glare in Shane’s direction. “She’ll spend her days in brothels, saloons and mining camps.”

Shane took exception. “Places where people are still people. The same places, I might remind you, you and your wife inhabit daily. If Hannah can do it, surely your sister can, as well.”

“Hannah’s different. She’s strong.”

“Your sister is strong, too.”

“Hannah isn’t alone.”

“Your sister won’t be either.” Shane pushed from the wall and stood tall, unbending in his conviction. “
I’ll
be with her.”

Clearly unimpressed with the bold declaration, Beau turned away and started pacing again, muttering under his breath. “How will she survive once her money runs out?”

Rage shot up, threatened to linger, but Shane squashed it back. “This from you? A preacher well-
versed in the Bible? Jesus told his disciples not to worry. ‘Look at the birds in the air; they do not sow or reap or store away in barns, and yet your heavenly father feeds them.’”

Eyes blinking in shock, Beau responded with a tiny, rather hapless nod, but Shane continued before the other man could speak. “Rest assured, my friend. This situation is only temporary. And, let’s face it, your sister may not make it through the week.”

The thought left Shane a little sick, for reasons he refused to explore.

“Oh, she’ll last.” Beau sank onto a hard-backed, wooden chair and released a frustrated puff of air. “Once Bella gets something in her mind, there’s no stopping her.”

“Good to know.” For a moment,
just one,
Shane allowed his heart to soar with possibilities beyond a simple working relationship. Stunned by the direction of his thoughts, he quickly shut down the notion. “In the meantime, I assure you I plan to continue interviewing qualified candidates.”

Beau stared at him for a long, measuring moment. Shane remained unmoving under his friend’s scrutiny.

At last, Beau nodded. “Fair enough.” Looking far more at ease now, he stretched out his long legs and crossed them at the ankles. “What’s on your schedule today?”

“I’ll be making visitations all afternoon,” Shane said.

Beau leaned forward and rested his elbows on his knees. “Is Lizzie one of those…visitations?”

“Of course. After I retrieve your sister, Mattie’s brothel will be our first stop.”

“Is that a fact?” A twinkle of amusement entered Beau’s eyes. “Do you expect Mattie to show up during said visit?”

Shane grinned at last. “When doesn’t the woman make her presence known, dramatic entrance and all?”

“Dr. Bartlett, I believe I owe you an apology.” A slow grin spread across the preacher’s lips. “Clearly, I underestimated you.”

“You aren’t the first.”

“Bella won’t know what hit her.”

“That is the general idea.”

Beau pushed out of the chair and walked over to slap Shane on the back. “You are either very brave, my friend, or very,
very
stupid.”

Shane’s smile disappeared. “Maybe both.”

Beau chuckled. “Time will tell.”

And that, Shane thought, was exactly what he feared most.

B
efore the sun had fully risen, Bella faced her first dilemma of the day. She had no idea what a nurse wore while attending patients. If her experience with Ethan Scott was any indication, the work would be messy.

That meant silk was out. Satin, too. Definitely no ruffles or lace.

A quick rummage through her trunks sent a wave of distress rippling through her. Sighing, Bella rubbed a finger across her temple. Maybe she should have thought this through better.

She had nothing appropriate to wear. Which only made her more convicted to pursue this new course for her life. As her mother always said, “If it comes too easy, it’s simply not worth doing.”

Perhaps her new sister-in-law would have a solution.

Shoving her feet into slippers, Bella wrapped her dressing gown tightly around her and went in search of Hannah.

Out in the hallway, her gaze tracked everywhere, past the wallpaper, the rugs, the wood floors underneath, the lone chair halfway down the corridor. Nothing looked familiar. Bella spun to her left and then to her right.

She couldn’t seem to get her bearings.

Beau’s house wasn’t all that large but it wasn’t small either. Hannah had given her a tour of the home last night. Navigating the two stories had seemed easy enough. But this morning, Bella was hopelessly lost. Understandable, she supposed. She’d only spent a handful of days in a real home. Her childhood had consisted of makeshift beds either backstage or in a temporary flat.

Focus, Bella. Focus.

Choosing a direction at random, she set out. She hadn’t gone far when she stopped midstep and inhaled deeply.

The smells.

Yes, the smells were different here. Clove, cinnamon, coffee, the lingering scent of food mixed with lemon oil. It was all so very pleasant. So heartwarming. A slice of the kind of life she’d secretly dreamed of and only now just realized how much.

A deep longing for something—something
more
—rose up, threatened to linger, but she fought the disturbing emotion back with a hard swallow.

William’s necklace weighed heavy around her neck, a bold reminder that she’d failed her first real test as a woman. The urge to yank off the offensive talisman burned, but she would not touch the necklace. She would
not.

Needing to think a moment, Bella collapsed against the wall and closed her eyes. Pure and simple, she was a fraud. She was no more a nurse than she was a pure-hearted woman.

Yet no one need know of her deception, did they? She was a trained performer, after all, schooled from childhood to take on varied roles. How hard could it be to pretend innocence?

The key, of course, would be to keep her mouth shut. Little talking meant few revelations. Yes, yes, that was it.
Silence.

Mouth pressed in a firm line, she fumbled from the wall, and resumed her search for the perfect dress to wear on this first day of her atoning.

The sound of—was that retching?—stopped her cold.

Bella spun on her heel.

“Hannah?”

There was a pause, followed by a series of coughs and sniffles. “We’re in here,” came a weak voice.

Bella rushed in the direction of the voice. When she got to the end of the hall, she halted at the sight of her sister-in-law crumbled on the floor of the washroom, her head pressed in the lap of a tiny, unusual-looking old woman.

Mavis.
This had to be Hannah’s adopted grandmother.

Bella thought Beau had been exaggerating when he’d told her about the woman. But Mavis’s hair was indeed white as fresh-fallen snow and it did shoot out in wild waves from every direction. Her age was indeterminate, and her clothing bright. A bawdy old girl, as
Bella’s brother Tyler would call her. Unconventional in every way. And long past the days of innocence.

No wonder Hannah adored the woman.

And it was obvious Mavis loved Hannah in return.

Her thin, gnarled fingers petted Hannah’s head in slow, gentle strokes. “Deep breaths, baby girl.” Her voice was as hard and raspy as Beau had described. “It’ll pass.”

From her seat on the floor, Mavis looked up at Bella and grinned. “Don’t take no brains to tell you’re Pastor Beau’s sister.”

Waving a limp hand in Bella’s general direction, Hannah took a shaky breath. “Bella, meet Mavis. Mavis, Bella.”

Casting the older woman a quick nod of acknowledgment, Bella dropped to her knees and lifted Hannah’s tangled mass of ebony curls. “What can I do to help you?”

Hannah lifted her head, dropped it just as quickly. “Don’t look so frightened, Bella dear.” She swiped the back of her hand across her mouth and struggled to sit up. “I’m fine now, really.”

Clearly, Hannah exaggerated. The edges around her mouth were pulled tight with tension and her face was leached of color.

Bella exchanged a concerned glance with Mavis. “You don’t look fine,” she said for them both.

“I will be in a moment.” She took several slow, full gulps of air. “It’ll pass. Once the baby grows bigger.”

Bella shifted her weight from her knees to her heels.
The very edge of excitement and fear had her rocking back and forth. “How long has this been going on?”

“A few days now.” Hannah grinned in spite of her misery. But then her eyes glazed over and she bent over herself.

Mavis lifted the pot by her feet just in time.

Hannah finished with a series of dry heaves.

“Lay your head back down in my lap,” Mavis ordered, gently pulling until Hannah obeyed the command.

Once settled again, Hannah’s hair fell forward, curtaining half her face.

Unsure how to proceed, Bella asked, “Does Beau know yet?”

Surely he would have told Bella. Wouldn’t he? Maybe not. He’d been awfully angry with her when he’d gone to bed last night.

“I wanted to make sure before I told him,” Hannah said.

Bella felt very young and very inexperienced, but if she was going to work as a doctor’s assistant she better know such things. “How…how do you make sure?”

With a shaky hand, Hannah shoved the hair off her face, glanced at the full bedpan near Mavis’s crossed feet. “I think it’s safe to say God has blessed us with child.”

“Oh, Hannah. I’m so happy for you.”

Bella reached out and smoothed her fingers across her sister-in-law’s forehead. She wanted to connect with this woman, to become her friend, as well as her sister, but something in Bella refused to soften, something dark warned her to keep her distance. “When is the blessed day?” she asked in a whisper.

“In about seven months.”

Seven months.
So soon. So far away.

“Will you tell Beau soon?”

A smile played at the edges of Hannah’s lips. “As soon as he returns from his errand in town.”

“He’ll be pleased,” Mavis announced, lifting her chin to a jaunty, I-know-these-things angle.

“Yes. Yes, he will.” Hannah sat up again, blinked several times. Slowly, the color returned to her cheeks.

Bella sighed at the sight of Beau’s pregnant wife. Bittersweet tears welled in her own eyes. She dashed them away with a single swipe. But, truthfully, she’d rarely seen such a look of contentment on another woman’s face, had never thought such joy possible.

Surely, she wasn’t jealous was she?

“This is truly a blessing from God,” Mavis said with such conviction, Bella gave the older woman a closer inspection. She didn’t look like a believing Christian. In truth, she had the hard, craggy exterior of someone who had lived a difficult life.

Ah, but Bella had already learned a person’s exterior was no indication of the inner heart.

“It is a blessing.” Hannah squeezed Mavis’s hand. “And I pray, God willing, our child looks just like my husband.”

Bella sighed again. No matter which parent it took after, the child would be beautiful. And not to mention he,
or she,
would be the first grandchild in the O’Toole family.

Bella’s parents would want to know the happy news.

They would want to be present for the child’s birth.
And if Bella was still living in Denver, there would be questions. More like a full-blown interrogation.

Oh, no. No, no, no. Bella could bear anything but one of her mother’s “concerned” lectures, the ones that always began with, “If you would have listened to me in the first place.”

That settled it, then. Bella would be long departed before her parents arrived. She had less than seven months to figure out her next step.

When the time came, she’d be glad to go. She bit down on her lip.

Wouldn’t she?

Why did she feel the loss already? Why did she sense leaving this place, this town,
these people
would bring on far more regret than anything she’d left behind in London?

Shane waited for his new assistant in the O’Toole’s front parlor. A quick glance around the tiny room revealed Hannah’s handiwork. She’d decorated with an overabundance of frills and lace. But instead of feeling too feminine, the fancy decor created a warm, comforting sense of home.

At ten, he’d tried to create something similar for his mother. But his efforts had been pitiful, a small lace doily the only thing he could afford to give his mother the day she’d turned thirty, the first of many birthdays Peter Ford had missed.

Forcing down a surge of restlessness, Shane took another, slower study of the room. Framed photographs of the famous O’Tooles covered all four green walls.
Playbills, clippings and newspaper reviews filled two entire tables, all clear evidence that Beau and Hannah O’Toole cared deeply for their relatives.

What would it be like, Shane wondered, to be a member of such a large and loving family?

A dark, wistful longing he hadn’t experienced since childhood speared through his heart, leaving a vague sense of dissatisfaction. Disgusted with himself—
with the unexpected emotion
—Shane remained very still and forced his mind clear.

He had no room in his life for dreams abandoned years ago. His patients depended on his sole dedication to the science of medicine. Logic, reason and hard work, yes, those were the three fundamentals of his life.

The distant sound of light, airy footsteps hailed Miss O’Toole’s impending entrance. Shane shook himself out of his troubled musings. By the time his assistant joined him, he had successfully buried all thought, save one. They had a busy day ahead of them.

“Here I am,” she said in her lilting accent, her arms outstretched as if to present herself for his inspection.

Turning slightly, Shane brought his gaze in direct line with Bella O’Toole. His eyes loitered on her face.
So many secrets buried in that beautiful head.

The thought did nothing to ease his foul mood.

Pulling her bottom lip between her teeth, she lowered her hands to her hips. “Are you ready to begin our new alliance?”

New alliance? A swelling of something he couldn’t
quite identify streamed through his resolve to think logically. Was it doubt? Or something more complex?

Needing a moment to collect his thoughts, Shane studied Miss O’Toole’s chosen ensemble for the day. She’d dressed in a simple blue dress, rather nondescript, but she’d covered it with a bright purple apron with red patches sewn haphazardly across the hem. The dress alone was acceptable enough, but the apron added an entirely different quality to the overall look, bordering on the ugly.

He did a quick estimate of Miss O’Toole’s height and weight and figured she’d borrowed the two garments from Mavis Tierney. No wonder the dress and apron clashed so completely.

Suppressing a grin, Shane moved his gaze back to Miss O’Toole’s face.

She wore her hair down, the golden locks cascading in a riot of curls down her back. She’d pulled the thick mane off her face with a black ribbon, tied with a large bow on top. She should look silly.

She looked…incredible.

Rendered momentarily speechless, Shane lowered his gaze for a final pass, and stopped dead at her shoes, or rather her fancy, thin-heeled
slippers.

His brows dived into a scowl. “Those won’t do.”

He hadn’t realized how harsh his tone sounded until her eyes widened in response. She looked shocked, offended perhaps, but she quickly covered the emotion with a pleasant, almost vacant look in her eyes. “Well, they’re all I have.”

Her flat tone gave nothing away, nor did her eyes.

How could the woman hide her thoughts so quickly and so completely? He puzzled over the question until he remembered she was a trained actress, an opera singer of the first order who made her living pretending to be someone she was not.

Like any man dealing with a woman he didn’t understand, Shane took a fortifying breath and prepared for the inevitable battle ahead.

“We’ll take care of finding you appropriate footwear in town,” he said, using his mildest tone in hopes of forestalling any argument on her part. “We’ll get you a pair of shoes that will be warmer and more comfortable and—”

“Whatever you say.”

“—better suited for trekking through ice and mud.”

Whatever you say?
He blinked.

“Did you just agree with me, Miss O’Toole?”

Tucking a loose strand of hair beneath the black ribbon, she lifted a careless shoulder. “You would know better than I what sort of shoes I should wear.”

And just like that, she threw him off balance.
Again.
This time with her complete cooperation. Would this woman never stop surprising him?

“Right, then.” He cleared the shock out of his voice and turned all business. “Let’s be off.”

Feeling more hopeful than he had in months, Shane helped Miss O’Toole with her coat and then stepped back while she tugged on the matching hat and gloves.

Once outside, Shane gripped her elbow carefully and assisted her into his small, but serviceable buggy.

She wiggled and shifted and squirmed until she finally settled herself on the cushioned seat. Only then did she turn her head and smile down at him.

Shane’s pulse kicked hard in his chest. The sight of all that beauty aimed solely at him was like a swift punch to his gut.