Second Chance Hero (14 page)

Chapter Fourteen

“I
see you've put away your walking stick. How's your arm and ankle doing?”

Nate turned to pass the breadbasket to Verity as he answered her uncle's question.

“They're healing nicely, sir. In fact, I'm thinking about resuming my work at the boardinghouse in another day or so.”

He saw Verity's fingers tighten on the basket so he held on to it a moment longer until he was certain she had a proper hold.

“Do you think that's wise?” she asked. “I mean, given the kind of work she'll have you doing.”

Her uncle spoke up before he could. “That depends.” He turned to Nate. “Just be careful to start slow—I wouldn't be chopping any firewood or carrying heavy loads.” He pointed his index finger at Nate in the manner of a judge pointing to an accused. “And mind you, if those injuries protest in any way, you stop what you're doing immediately.”

“Yes, sir.”

The conversation turned to inconsequential matters after that. Nate enjoyed the meal, but even more, he enjoyed the company, the give-and-take that could only happen in a gathering of folk who were comfortable with each other. That was one of the things he'd missed most after he was thrown in prison.

He also couldn't help but notice the difference in Verity. He'd been pleasantly surprised by that new dress she was wearing today. Not only because the cut and color were flattering on her, but because of what it signified—she had put away her mourning clothes. Could it possibly be a signal of other, more subtle changes in her outlook?

And it wasn't just the dress. There was a new energy about her, a certain spark that hadn't been there before. It could just be her pleasure in wearing that new garment, but he didn't think so. Something internal seemed to have shifted and changed in her, as well.

Perhaps, when they went berry picking this afternoon, he'd be able to get some clues as to just what this all meant.

When at last the meal was over, Verity insisted on helping her aunt clean up before they went on their excursion.

As the women started clearing the table, Dr. Pratt turned to Nate. “What do you say we get out of the ladies' way? How do you feel about a game of chess? Verity tells me you're quite the strategic player.”

So she talked about him to her uncle, did she? “It would be my pleasure, sir.”

As he followed the older gentleman into the parlor, he couldn't help but remember what Verity had told him about how her uncle had such disdain for her father, but hadn't held her father's adventurous nature against her. It had been a rather peculiar statement to make and he wasn't above doing some subtle probing.

Nate waited until they were seated and the game was set up. “I understand Mrs. Leggett grew up here with you and your wife.” That was a nice neutral opening.

“That's right.” Dr. Pratt glanced up from the chessboard. “She's like a daughter to us.”

Had that been a warning of some sort? “She told me what happened to her parents.”

The doctor moved a pawn, then leaned back. “Did she, now? I'll admit to being surprised. She doesn't ever talk about the accident. Or about her parents at all.”

“Not even with you?”

The older gentleman tugged on the corners of his vest. “When she was younger I used to tell her tales of her mother as a little girl. But it's been some years now since we spoke of it.”

Nate made his opening move. “And her father?”

Dr. Pratt's face hardened. “We don't speak of her father. Sturgis was a foolish, reckless man who thought nothing of putting the lives of those around him in danger.”

Nate couldn't let that statement stand. “But surely there was good in him, too? If your niece and her mother loved him as much as they obviously did, then they had to see something in him worthy of that love.”

“I'll allow that he
did
have a way about him, a certain charm and wit that most ladies found hard to resist.”

From Dr. Pratt's tone, Nate could tell he didn't consider those good qualities.

Then his host shook his head and straightened. “How did we get started on this topic? It's
your
history I intended to discuss this afternoon.”

Nate shifted uncomfortably, returning his focus to the chessboard. That was one topic he didn't want to discuss. “There's not much to tell, sir.” He moved his next piece. “I grew up in fairly comfortable circumstances in the town of Plattisburg, Pennsylvania. I had one sibling, a younger sister. Unfortunately, she and my parents have all passed away so I have no family left to speak of.”

Dr. Pratt's expression turned sympathetic. “I'm sorry. A man's life is so much richer if he has family around him to share it with.”

Nate couldn't agree more.

But Verity's uncle wasn't through interrogating him yet. “Why did you come to Turnabout? I know you're a friend of Adam Barr's, but I figure it would take more than that to cause a man to pick up and move halfway across the country with little more than the clothes on his back.”

This was getting into very uncomfortable territory—he needed to redirect the discussion. “I suppose we all have a few things in our past that are painful to look back on or that we wish we could erase.” He met the man's gaze without blinking. “I just reached a point in my life where there was nothing left for me in Plattisburg and getting a fresh start somewhere else felt like a good idea.” He allowed a touch of cynicism to color his voice. “As for the dearth of possessions I arrived with, it was everything I owned.”

Everything he'd said was true, as far as it went. But it was time to change the topic before the man boxed him into a corner he couldn't maneuver out of. “Has your niece always been interested in medicine?”

Dr. Pratt's expression softened. “Almost as soon as she moved in here, Verity wanted to help me in the clinic. She was always getting underfoot, asking for things to do. She would handle any household tasks my wife gave her but then would head right back to the clinic to see if I'd let her help me with anything. I finally gave in and decided to teach her a few simple tasks that would allow her to assist me.”

It sounded as if Dr. Pratt loved his niece very much. It also sounded to him as if young Verity had been trying to replace her beloved father with her uncle.

“She was a fast learner,” Dr. Pratt continued. “Never saw anyone take to it that quickly or at so young an age.”

Nate had never doubted Verity was an intelligent woman—it was part of what appealed to him about her. But it seemed she had a natural talent, as well.

Verity appeared in the doorway just then, putting an end to their conversation. He noticed she'd changed out of her pretty new dress and into an everyday dress. But there was no touch of black to be found on this one either. He took that as a good sign.

“So who's winning?” she asked.

Nate sent a smile her way. “It appears your uncle currently has the upper hand.” The doctor was a skilled player who was making him work to find any advantage he could. This game could potentially go on for quite some time.

Apparently Dr. Pratt thought the same thing. “I see my niece has some pails and a basket in hand. I believe that's her not-so-subtle hint that she's ready to go.”

Verity gave him an affectionate smile. “Perhaps I
was
being a little too obvious.”

Dr. Pratt leaned back and waved them on. “Why don't you two go on. We can finish this game another time.”

Nate didn't have to be told twice. With a nod to his opponent, he stood and joined Verity.

She allowed him to take the pails from her, but held on to the basket. “Aunt Betty packed us some lemonade and a couple of pieces of gingerbread in case we feel the urge to snack while we are out.”

“Your aunt Betty is a woman after my own heart.”

Verity laughed. “Well, she's keeping an eye on Joy, and Joy is keeping an eye on Beans,” she said. “So I think we can safely slip out now.”

As they stepped outside, he lent her his arm to descend the porch steps. “So where do we find these dewberries your aunt is coveting?”

“There are some vines near the tree line out past the schoolyard. But they've likely been picked over already.” She slid him a touchingly shy look. “There's another really great spot a little ways west of town, but it's too far to walk comfortably. However, Uncle Grover already agreed to loan us the use of his buggy, if you're of a mind to go for a ride that is.”

A buggy ride with a pretty girl on a fine spring day—he couldn't think of anything he'd rather do. “So, where does he keep his buggy?”

Twenty minutes later Nate was maneuvering the buggy out of the livery's carriage house, Verity seated by his side.

Once they left the town behind them, Verity began pointing out landmarks of interest—the grove where she always harvested pecans in the fall, the meadow where she liked to take Joy for picnics, the pond where she and her uncle fished when she was a child.

He thoroughly enjoyed these glimpses into her life and wondered if there would come a day when he could share them with her.

“I see you brought two pails along,” he said. “Do you really expect us to fill both of them?”

She raised a brow at that. “Well, I certainly expect to fill
my
pail. Whether you fill up yours is entirely up to you.”

“Oh ho, are you issuing a challenge, Mrs. Leggett?”

Her eyes were sparkling in a most attractive manner. “And if I were—are you planning to take me up on it, Mr. Cooper?”

“I do believe I am. As for stakes, shall we say the first one to fill their pail forfeits their slice of gingerbread.”

She raised a brow. “High stakes indeed. I'll have to rethink my plan to go easy on you.”

“Then we are agreed—no mercy from either quarter!”

She grinned but rather than return his verbal salvo, she pointed to an open area just off the road. “We're here. You can turn the carriage in over there.”

He complied, then tied off the reins and hopped down. He quickly moved around the carriage to help her down, forcing himself to just offer her a hand rather than take her by the waist like he really wanted to.

“There's no need to tether Banjo,” she said as she stepped down. “He's docile and won't wander far.”

Nate reached inside the buggy to fetch the pails. By the time he turned back around, she was moving away from the buggy.

“Hold on there,” he said. “Don't think I'm going to let you get a head start on me.”

She laughed. “Don't worry, I can't start without my pail. I just wanted to sample a few before we get started.” She put her hand to her chest in an exaggeratedly virtuous pose. “Just to make certain they're good enough for Aunt Betty's cobbler, of course.”

“Of course.” He quickly caught up with her and tucked her hand on his arm. “This ground is rough,” he said by way of explanation. “One of us with a bad ankle is enough.”

Nate was thoroughly enjoying this newly revealed playful side of her. If a new dress was what it took to bring it out, he hoped she had plans to purchase quite a few more.

He allowed her to “teach” him how to pick the berries—how to tell which berries were ripe and which were not and how to pluck them from the vine to do the least damage to the fruit. It was endearing to see her earnestness and her concern that he had a clear understanding.

“One of the things you need to be careful about,” she said as they got started, “is to check the area around the vines for snakes, yellow jackets and other pests, like spiders.” She gave a delicate little shiver on the last.

“Spiders?”

She turned to her berry picking. “Yes. I absolutely hate the things.” Then she colored and glanced at him from the corner of her eye. “The truth is they absolutely terrify me—especially those daddy-longlegs type. I can tolerate them from a distance but if one gets near me—” She shuddered. “I suppose you think I'm a cowardly ninny.”

“What I think is that you don't care much for spiders,” he said drily.

She gave a little gurgling laugh at that. “You certainly believe in understatements, don't you?”

“Actually, it reassures me to know that you're not perfect.”

She did finally meet his gaze. “Perfect? Now you're just being sarcastic.”

“Not at all. You, Mrs. Leggett, are dauntingly accomplished. You are a good mother, you ably assist your uncle in his medical practice, you lead the Sunday choir, you agree to form a children's choir at the drop of a hat, and speaking of hats, on top of all the rest, you're a talented milliner. You have to admit, that is quite an impressive list.”

She shook her head. “Thank you, but there are a lot of folks whose list would be much more impressive.” She waved a hand in his direction. “Look at you. You can play the piano better than anyone I ever heard before, you've agreed to help with the children's choir, you can craft beautiful leather goods, and, most impressive of all, you had the courage to pick up and move halfway across the country to start a new life.”

He'd been enjoying her praise—up until that last. Was that how she saw his transplanting himself to Turnabout? It made him feel more of a fraud than ever.

He turned back to the berries and for a while they worked in silence. Then he became aware that she was surreptitiously watching him with a touch of concern in her expression. So he plucked a berry and rather than tossing it in his pail turned to her. “I'm not sure of the etiquette surrounding picking dewberries. Are we allowed to eat as we go?”

She nodded solemnly. “Not only is it allowed, it is considered mandatory. One must taste the berries every so often, just to make certain they are worth harvesting.” Then she grinned. “I've already partaken, and at the pace you're going, I can eat quite a few more and still fill my pail before you.”