Paper Roses (22 page)

Bidding Léon farewell, Clay resolved to start asking questions tomorrow when his temper had cooled. In the meantime, he needed to do something constructive, something that would keep his thoughts from dwelling on Austin’s death. Though Martina had stopped nagging him, Clay knew the task was overdue. He had to pack Patience’s belongings. They served no purpose, sitting unused in a room Clay could not bear to enter. Martina was right about that. She was also right in claiming Pa needed Clay close at night. He ought to move back from the barn, but he couldn’t return to the room he and Patience once shared when it held so many memories. Removing his wife’s possessions would be the first step.

As he entered the ranch house, Clay spoke to Martina and asked her to have Miguel bring in Patience’s trunk. Though she smiled and nodded, surely it was Clay’s imagination that his housekeeper muttered something about miracles. This was no miracle, just a chore that needed to be done.

Though he’d dreaded it for more than half a year, it wasn’t as painful as he’d expected. As he’d feared, sorting his wife’s clothing brought back memories, but—to Clay’s surprise— they were happy ones. When his hands touched the emerald green satin, he remembered the day she’d first worn that gown. It had been at a party her parents had hosted in honor of their engagement. She’d been so happy that evening as they’d planned their life together. And they had been happy, even here in a land that was as foreign to Patience as the Sahara Desert would have been.

She’d had no opportunity to wear the gown in Ladreville, for there’d been no fancy parties. Clay would send it and her jewelry back to the Mortons. Boston was a better place for ball gowns and baubles.

He opened the small intricately carved wooden box Patience had used to store her valuables, looking at the half dozen pieces of gold that had meant so much to her. Her wedding ring was not there, for Clay had buried it with her. Though someone, perhaps one of the women who’d come to prepare Patience’s body for burial, had urged him to keep it, Clay had been unwilling to think of another woman wearing the band he’d slipped on Patience’s hand the day they’d promised to love, honor, and cherish each other. He touched the emerald earbobs he’d given her for their first anniversary, remembering how she’d worn them with her green satin gown. They should go back to Boston, where her sister might wear them in Patience’s memory.

Clay looked out the window for a moment, trying to clear the unwelcome moisture from his eyes before he returned to his task. Patience’s parents would probably want the locket that had been their eighteenth birthday gift to her. They should have that and the box too. Clay looked at the satin-lined compartments, his eyes searching for the locket. Where was it? It should be here, and yet it was not. Clay shook his head, surprised when he did not see it. Next to her wedding ring, that had been Patience’s most treasured piece of jewelry, the one thing she wore almost every day. This was the only place she would have stored it.

“Can I help?”

Clay spun around, startled by the sound of Sarah’s voice. How long had she been standing at the door? The fact that she was home told him he’d been in this room longer than he’d expected. Sarah must have come to remind him of Thea’s riding lesson. “I’m afraid I’ll be late today.”

She shook her head. “The lesson’s cancelled. Martina told me you were busy, so I explained to Thea that Nora needed a rest. She’s talking to your father now.”

Clay smiled, imagining the torrent of words that would be directed toward his father. Fortunately, Pa seemed to enjoy the child’s company. That was one thing Austin had been right about.

“My offer of help stands.”

Though part of him recoiled at the thought of anyone touching Patience’s belongings, the more practical part realized Sarah could help him find the locket.

“I’m no good at folding,” Clay admitted, gesturing toward the two piles of gowns that now covered the bed. He pointed to the smaller one. “Could you get these ready to ship back to Boston?” Sarah nodded. “And while you’re doing that, would you look for Patience’s locket? It’s gold and oval and has a fancy design on the front.”

“Filigree?”

Clay shrugged. “You’re asking the wrong person. All I know is, I can’t find it.”

More quickly than he’d thought possible, Sarah had placed the green satin gown and the few other dresses he’d selected into the trunk. “The locket isn’t in any of the pockets,” she told him. “I checked the ruffles too, thinking it might have been caught in one of them, but it wasn’t.”

“I don’t understand where it could be.” And that bothered him. It wasn’t the cost, although he suspected Daniel and Prudence had paid a pretty penny for it. What bothered Clay was the feeling that if he did not send the locket back to her parents, he would be failing Patience. He hadn’t been able to save her life. Surely he could do something as simple as finding a piece of jewelry.

“I’m certain it will turn up.” Though Sarah’s words were laced with confidence, Clay did not share her optimism. Nothing in his life had been going well. Why should he have expected this to be any different? Now, not only did he have to find a murderer, but he needed to search for his wife’s locket.

“What do you plan to do with those?” Sarah pointed toward the other pile of dresses, the ones Clay thought of as ordinary.

“I’ll give them away.” He’d heard the churchwomen were always looking for serviceable clothing to distribute to the less fortunate. “They’re not worth sending back to the Mortons.”

Sarah fingered one of the skirts, her gesture oddly hesitant. When she spoke, her voice reflected the same hesitation. “May I have them?”

“You?” The harshness of his tone made her recoil, and so Clay deliberately softened his voice as he said, “They’re much too large for you.” That wasn’t the reason he’d reacted as he did. Clay knew women could work wonders with an old dress, turning it into something far different than the original gown. The problem was, for some reason he didn’t want to see Sarah wearing Patience’s garments.

She seemed to sense the cause of his hesitation, for she smiled reassuringly as she said, “They’re not for me. I want to teach the older girls to quilt, and these would make beautiful pieces.”

Clay relaxed. “All right. There’s bound to be someone in Ladreville who can use a quilt.” One problem was solved. The clothes were disposed of. Unfortunately, another had cropped up to take its place. Where were those miracles Austin and Martina believed in?

“You’re the local hero,” Herman told Clay the next morning. “Even though it’s been a couple weeks, your saving Leah Dunn’s life is still all anyone can talk about.”

Clay frowned. He hadn’t come into town to talk about himself, Leah Dunn, or anything related to practicing medicine. “I didn’t want to treat your patient, and you know it.”

“But you’re glad you did. I can see that.”

The choice of words surprised Clay. “What do you mean? You told me your eyesight was worsening.”

“It is. I can still see shapes but no details. When I said ‘see,’ it was figurative. I heard the satisfaction in your voice. You’re a born doctor, Clay. Healing people is as necessary to you as breathing.”

Though Herman was right, Clay had no intention of admitting it. If he did, Herman would stop trying to lure another doctor to Ladreville, and that would be flat-out wrong. No matter how much satisfaction Clay found in healing people’s bodies, he would not remain in Texas. As soon as Austin’s killer was brought to justice, Clay would leave.

He fixed his gaze on Herman as he asked, “Do you remember the day my wife died?”

Herman’s head jerked at the abrupt change of subject. “How could I forget? I felt as if I’d failed you.”

“I’m not blaming you,” Clay hastened to reassure the older doctor. “I know you did all you could.” Unlike Austin’s death, which could have been prevented, Patience’s was as close to natural causes as any. “I can’t find my wife’s locket, and I wondered whether you remembered seeing it that day.”

“She wasn’t wearing it.” Herman’s voice rang with conviction. “I would have noticed if there’d been anything around her neck.” Unspoken was the fact that, though Herman might have removed it in his efforts to save her, he would have returned it to Clay. “It must have come loose and fallen off. Why don’t you talk to Mary? They went to that meeting together.”

Clay nodded, then shot his friend a mischievous smile. “Speaking of Mary, have you seen her recently?” Pa had laughed at the thought that their neighbor had transferred her affections from him to Herman.

“Thankfully, no. I suspect little Thea keeps her too busy to invent ailments.”

Or perhaps she hadn’t wanted the child present when she tried to attract the doctor. “I need to warn you, Herman. Thea’s not spending her days there anymore. Mary may start calling you again.”

“She wouldn’t want a blind man.”

“Don’t be so sure.” Clay suspected Mary was as determined to find a spouse as Gunther Lehman, and Herman, even with incipient blindness, would be a good catch. “I’ll tell her you miss her,” he teased.

“You wouldn’t!”

“No, but it’s mighty tempting.” At least discussing Herman would have been more pleasant than asking about Patience’s last hours. That, unfortunately, had to be done, and he might as well do it today.

When he stopped at the Lazy B on his way back to the ranch, Clay found the kitchen redolent with delicious aromas and Mary rolling out biscuits. “It appears I came at a bad time.”

Mary inclined her head slightly, agreeing with Clay’s assessment. “Sarah and Thea are coming for supper tonight. I wanted something special for them.”

“Whatever it is, it smells delicious.” Mary had a reputation for being the best cook in Ladreville, and tonight’s supper would only cement that.

“If you’re angling for an invitation, Clay Canfield, you ain’t gonna get one.” Mary’s smile was conspiratorial. “I’ll deny it if you ever repeat this, but I’m fixin’ to try my hand at matchmaking.”

Matchmaking. David. Sarah. Clay swallowed as bile rose into his throat. It must be that the idea had caught him unaware. That must be the reason for the sour taste in his mouth. It wasn’t as if he had a personal interest in Sarah. Of course it wasn’t. When Mary’s eyes narrowed, Clay realized she expected a response. “Sarah’s a fine woman,” he said.

“That she is, and my David is a fine man.” Mary floured the rim of a glass and began cutting biscuits. “Now, what brings you here?”

“I packed up Patience’s belongings yesterday.”

Mary cut another biscuit before she looked up at Clay. “You fixin’ to go back to Boston?”

“As soon as I learn who killed Austin. Meanwhile, I thought I’d send Patience’s things to her parents. The problem is, her locket is missing. Do you remember whether she was wearing it the day she died?” Clay couldn’t recall, but women noticed that sort of thing.

Mary held the glass up, apparently checking the quantity of flour on its rim. “I don’t recollect,” she said slowly. “I wish I could help you, Clay, but I was sicker than a dog that day, and my memory ain’t what it shoulda been.” She cut another biscuit. “If I had to guess, I’d say she didn’t have it on.”

Clay frowned. First his wife’s locket; then his brother’s watch. What would disappear next?

9

The days were getting longer. Sarah smiled as she glanced out the window at the children who were chasing each other around the churchyard. Though for the most part they sat quietly during lessons, there was no doubt that recess was their favorite time of the day. It was then that they could run and shout and be children. Sarah enjoyed the respites too, for they gave her a chance to rest her voice and collect her thoughts. Normally she planned her next lesson, but today her mind refused to focus on arithmetic and spelling. Instead, it wandered, transporting her almost two thousand miles to the place she’d once called home. The dogwood and azalea buds would be swollen, preparing to dazzle the eye with the beauty of their flowers. Mama would be working in her garden, transplanting the seedlings she’d nurtured on a windowsill, singing softly as she ran her fingers through the fertile soil.

Oh, Mama!
Sarah blinked in a vain attempt to hold back the tears that came as regularly as April rain. Sarah brushed the tears from her cheeks, then closed her eyes briefly, picturing her mother’s garden. Perhaps that was the answer. Though she couldn’t bring her back, perhaps sharing something Mama had enjoyed would ease the pain.

When she walked to the doorway to summon the children, Sarah heard one of her pupils groan. They knew recess was coming to an end. Her tears banished, she smiled, as much at the children’s predictable reaction as from the realization that only a few miles away a garden awaited her. She’d thought about it ever since Mary had mentioned it, but while Clay had been in deep mourning, Sarah hadn’t wanted to speak of anything that would remind him of his wife. Things were different now that he’d shipped Patience’s belongings and moved back into the house. Sarah thought he might agree to let her and Thea work in Patience’s garden. She’d ask him tonight.

For the rest of the afternoon, Sarah was as bad as the children, her mind refusing to concentrate on lessons. While she was teaching the older pupils multiplication tables, she conjured images of sweet peas and daisies. As the youngest children recited the alphabet, she wondered whether Patience had edged her garden with boxwood the way Mama had. By the end of the day, Sarah was as anxious as her pupils for the final bell. As they raced outside, she slid her lesson papers into her satchel and hurried Thea toward the door.