That Certain Spark (20 page)
“Enoch was always my best friend. Since we came here and he met Mercy, his attentions shifted—as well they should. I knew that day would come. He’s still more dear to me than I can express. It makes sense, you know—that having a man for my best friend all those years, it would be natural for me to be comfortable with a man becoming my best friend and confidant again. Of everyone in Gooding, you know more about my daily life and what’s really happening. I know I can trust you. It’s not something I see men do—to speak of having a best friend—women do it as a matter of course. And even though I’ve built strong foundations for friendships with Millie, Sydney, and Hope, I still know the truth. You’re my best friend, Karl Van der Vort. Today you stood in the breach. You helped me get to Bethany and stood like a guardian angel so I could do my best for her. I want you to know how very much I appreciate not just all you’ve done, but how you’ve lent your kindness and strength and offered your friendship regardless of the opinions of others.”
Taking a long, scalding gulp, he let her words sink in. At first, when she’d spoken of her brother, he’d felt sick that she only held a brotherly affection for him. Then, as she went on, hope sparked. She’d acknowledged her trust in him, that he meant more to her than anyone else. Yes, even if he followed her reasoning, he meant more to her than her own twin. The woman loved him back! He just had to get her to realize it.
He wanted to choose the right words, say the things a woman would want to hear. A man making a declaration need not get down on his knee. That was reserved for proposing. Then again, depending on how things went, he might wind up doing just that. . . . For now, he covered her hands with his. “I’ve never been more proud to be a best friend. You’ve earned my admiration, Taylor.” He purposefully left out any other hint of his emotions. “Everything you do, you do with all your heart. You’re that way in your professional life, in your friendships, in your love for your family, and in your walk with the Lord.”
“No, Karl. I fail. Often, I fail. I’ve spent plenty of time repenting and apologizing. Probably not as much at either as I ought. It’s because of the very intensity and zeal with which I do things that when I’m wrong, I’m terribly wrong.”
As you were about going off on house calls at night all by yourself.
He didn’t remind her of that. He wanted to keep the discussion channeled in another direction. “Taylor, I want you to know something. Suddenly everything has come into focus for me. I can see how I’ve wasted years of my life, and I don’t want to waste any of my future by having the wrong priorities. It’s important for you to know I’ve reconciled with God.”
A beatific smile lit her face, and her green eyes shimmered as they filled with tears. For a moment, she was speechless. “How wonderful! I’ve been praying for you to find the peace that passeth understanding. Our heavenly Father must be delighted to see his son return home.” She disentangled her hand and opened her chatelaine purse to pull out a hanky. Wiping away tears of joy, she let out a blissful smile. “This has to have been the best day of my life.”
“Is that so?”
Should I propose now, Lord?
“The cliché is ‘saving life and limb,’ ” she said. “We saved Bethany’s limb together today, and something even more precious than life—your soul—has been restored. Yes, this was a perfect Christmas!”
How I love her! She finds the good in everything and makes me want to be a better man.
Cold reality washed over him. He couldn’t ask her to be his wife until she no longer felt at risk. It wasn’t fair to taint what was to be a woman’s most special time with memories of fear. His Taylor trusted him. As a friend.
Lord, I’ve seen those advertisements about asking for something for Christmas. They disgust me. But here I am, and I’m going to give you a whole list. Please safeguard Taylor and help me catch whoever is causing her problems. Take off the blinders so she sees the love I have for her and let her return it.
“Karl, I can’t tell you how happy I am. Every Christmas I’m going to remember the special joy of this time we’ve had and the wonderful news you shared.”
Sliding his hand over hers, he nodded. “Ja. Memories—they are like a forge where bonds are joined. The goed feelings, the happy and sacred ones we share now—those are ones I would want joined together in our hearts and minds.”
The next morning Taylor came downstairs to the smell of something baking, but she couldn’t be too excited, because Linette’s cooking meant a little girl was hurting.
Linette might make a good nurse.
If she were interested, I could send her back to Chicago to attend a nursing program. If she chose to go away for a while on such an adventure, how wonderful would that be?
Her sisters were getting married and no one was interested in her. It might soften the rejection and equip her with a way to provide for herself in the future. But how would Taylor explain that to Mercy? She counted on Linette’s help with the boardinghouse and baking. The smell of the breakfast sure sweetened the deal. With a full stomach, Taylor figured she could get along with just about anybody.
She walked over to Bethany and smoothed back her hair. The little girl moaned restlessly in her sleep. Adults could endure pain; children, on the other hand, were so very innocent and helpless. Pain bewildered and scared them. Taylor bent down and pressed a kiss on her forehead, readjusted the blankets, and went into the kitchen. “She’s still sleeping.”
“I know.” Linette took muffins from the oven. Their aroma blasted through Taylor, making her mouth water. Oblivious to the effect her baking was having, Linette continued on, “The mud in her hair is dry now. Later this morning I’ll brush out the dirt.”
“It’s a going to take a while. Her hair’s a rare mess.”
Shuddering, Linette nodded. “I’ll get to it straight off. Mama will have a conniption if she sees just how filthy Bethany’s hair is.”
“Why?” Taylor looked at her in absolute amazement. “Haven’t you all been that dirty before?”
Linette reared back. “Of course not.”
“What’ve you been doing with your time?” Taylor grabbed a muffin and tossed it back and forth between her hands because it was far too hot to hold. She noticed with delight that it had raisins in it. “If I’d been living out here, I would have been swimming in the creek and sledding down that hill back there in the mud. I would have gotten filthy twenty times over by now.”
Linette tried to muffle her laughter. “You wouldn’t have!”
Taylor cocked an eyebrow and said nothing.
“You really would have?”
“Linette, worrying about what people thought would have prevented me from becoming a doctor. Some things you do because they’re the right things to do—and you always do them. But there are other things you do because your spirit needs to take flight or you feel called. Becoming a doctor was both of those things for me—it was in my heart and soul.” She pointed her muffin toward the window. “You’ll see Widow O’Toole go by in about three seconds, and I don’t doubt for a second that her spirits soar when she rides her velocipede.”
Linette’s eyes got big. “Does everybody have something they want to do that’s different?”
“Mmmm. This muffin is delicious. Yes, everyone has desires. Some fulfill them, while others deny themselves and never reach for their dreams. Instead of ridiculing someone for being different, I admire them for their courage.” She took another bite. “Ohhh, this muffin is good. God bless the hands that prepared it!”
Laughing, Linette put two bowls of oatmeal on the table. After they both sat down and prayed, Taylor swirled her spoon in the bowl—brown sugar and a big chunk of butter, just the way she loved it. “So, Linette, what’s the thing you’ve always wanted to do?”
“I’m not real sure. We get the newspapers and I see things that other women do, like the suffragettes. Or you. I didn’t know women could be doctors! Other than being schoolteachers or working in the mercantile or sewing, women don’t have jobs around here. Those are the only choices I have since—” She sucked in a quick breath and blurted out, “I’m not getting married because nobody wants me.”
Bethany moaned and let out a sharp cry.
Immediately Taylor left the table, and Linette followed after a few seconds.
“I hurt,” Bethany whined.
Linette petted her. “I know you do, sweetheart.”
“Of course you do, Bethany. What little girl wouldn’t?” Taylor made a face. “After all, you had a whole horse and . . . and . . .” She stuck her forefinger in the air and spun it around like a wheel, trying to get Bethany distracted.
“Buckboard?” Bethany said.
“Buckboard! Yes. Thank you. You had a horse and buckboard roll over you and break your leg. Accidents like that kill grownups, but Jesus and the angels were taking very good care of you. You’ll stay here for maybe two weeks. After that, I can put a cast on your leg. Since you’re on this special table bed here, during the daytime, I can tuck some pillows under you so you can look out the window. Sometimes we’ll shut all the curtains and you can take a rest or we’ll just have some fun all to ourselves. And other times when I need to work, we’ll make sure you have wonderful books to read.”
“Can I have my friends come see me?”
“Yes, your friends may come pay you visits. Linette, how many hundreds of friends does your sister have?”
Linette got into the spirit of things. “Let me see.”
Bethany laughed. “You’re silly.”
Taylor got down next to her and held her hand. “Okay, Bethany, I’m done being silly. Now I’m going to tell you what to expect, because big girls deserve to know what’s going to happen.” She explained about traction and boredom and discomfort. “In the end, it’ll be worth it because your leg will grow nice and straight and beautiful.”
“So I can dance with a prince on my wedding day?”
Linette leaned forward and gave her sister a kiss on the cheek. “Yes, so you can dance with a wonderful man on your wedding day.”
What must it have cost for her to say that to her little sister? Especially after what she just said in the kitchen.
“I’ll lay on the hard table if I get to have a pretty leg, then.” Suddenly Bethany’s eyes got big. “We’re not supposed to talk about legs with men around. So what do we say if somebody comes to see how I am?”
Linette pointed at the odd weight on the traction and started laughing. “I think we should tell them Bethany’s ironing is doing just fine.”
Feeding and medicating Bethany and combing the dried mud from her hair took a while. They’d just gotten back to the kitchen and Linette had pulled their bowls from the warmer when Taylor heard a commotion. She walked out onto the back porch and saw four men. One rushed up the steps. Blocking the door, she asked in a sharp tone, “Gentlemen, did you need something?”
“We come for the girl.”
“I’ll ask Linette to step out and speak with you.”
“I’ll ask Linette to step out and speak “Not her. The little squirt.”
“This conversation is over.” Stepping back, Taylor started to shut the door. It flew open.
T
he men pressed past Taylor and into the house. She grabbed hold of one man’s suspenders and pushed another man back. Linette shoved the table and managed to nail another against the wall, then yelled at the last, “Sam Jinks, don’t you go in there and upset my sister.”
From the next room, Bethany’s high, sweet, slightly slurred voice reached them. “Hello, Mr. Jinks. Did you come to visit me? I’m getting all better. My ironing is going just fine.”
Almost immediately, he backed out into the kitchen. One of the men who’d broken free from Taylor shoved him. “Hey, what are you doing, Jinks?”
Jinks pushed him. “We’re not going in there and scarin’ that little girl witless.”
Karl burst through the door. “You’re right, you’re not.” As he spoke, he moved to shield Taylor.
She spoke to his broad back. “These gentlemen are leaving now.”
“My lady and her guests are to be left in complete peace.” Karl’s voice rumbled like the threat of distant thunder. “If you have a problem, you come to me. Even if you’re sick or hurt, you come to me first. Got it?” The men grumbled and growled as they started to walk away. Blocking their exit by keeping a meaty hand on the doorframe, Karl asked in a quiet tone that vibrated with fury, “Want to explain what was going on here?”
One of them pointed a finger at Hank Parson. “His boy’s got a gimpy leg. Never gonna be right because the last doc was a quack.” He jabbed his finger toward her. “Now this one’s using cloth strips, rope, and an iron. Last time we all gave Doc Wicky a bunch of chances. This time we tried to put a stop to it.”
Jinks cranked his hand around and stabbed his finger into Karl’s chest. “You got in the way. When that little girl is all gimpy just like Hank’s boy, we’re all gonna hold you to blame.” The men started to push on out.
Karl didn’t yield an inch. “You remember every time you see Bethany run and play on a perfectly sound leg that it was our skilled doctor who treated her.” He then permitted the men to go.
Her quaking limbs still held her up, but Taylor couldn’t be sure how much longer. Part of her wanted to thank Karl for coming, because things could have turned even uglier. She’d been scared. She’d been scared a lot recently. There’d been times when she knew someone was watching her. This was the first time, though, that anyone had caused a physical confrontation.
On the other hand, she couldn’t always depend on somebody to bail her out—even if he had expressed great confidence in her skill. She looked at him. “Didn’t I tell you once I didn’t need you to rescue me? And I am not your lady!”
Karl stared right back. “I remember telling you somebody had to rescue you from yourself. You can’t cook worth a plugged nickel, so as long as Linette’s cooking and there’s something good on that stove, I thought I’d invite myself over.” With that, he walked in front of her, sat down, and finished eating her bowl of oatmeal.
Fighting with her stank. Matching wits and debating was fun; bristling and wanting to shout until she absorbed some common sense held no charm at all. He hated it. And he hated brown sugar and butter on oatmeal. But he ate the whole bowl. Loathed it so much, he ate another bowlful. The whole time, he smiled at her—a grin so big his molars almost cracked. He kept his fist wrapped around that spoon so tight, it was amazing the spoon didn’t melt from the heat. If he dared to let go of it, he just might grab hold of her and rattle her until some sense got into her brain. He’d never touched a woman in anger. Never had, never would—but she had no idea how much danger she’d been in. Absolutely none at all. She didn’t think she needed to be rescued. She’d been absolutely unaware of the gravity of the situation. And why would she? A lady from proper Chicago society couldn’t be expected to grasp just how raw and undisciplined men could be.
Those same men didn’t respect Linette. Even if she cried or complained or got hurt, she didn’t much matter to them. But if those men would have picked up little Bethany and carried her out of there, they would have lamed her for life. And why? Because they thought they knew better? Because they wanted to show they didn’t want a woman doctor? Stupid, stupid men. They didn’t understand the treasure they were rejecting—both as a professional and as an individual lady. Anyone who frightened or manhandled a woman deserved to be leveled. Anyone who so much as put a finger on his woman better be all prayed up.
Karl kept smiling at Taylor. He was going to keep at it until she realized just how irritated he was. Funny thing was, she was smiling right back at him the same way. It took him a moment to realize she knew exactly what he was doing. Why had it taken him so long to figure that out? How long had she known what he was up to?
She was real good at these games; he’d met his match. The realization invigorated him. She could kick and fuss and deny it all she wanted, but he’d staked his claim and knew deep in his heart she was the only one for him. Linette asked, “Would you like some more oatmeal?”
Taylor poured a cup of coffee. “Do we have any more?”
“I think I could scrape probably another tablespoon out of the pot.”
Karl laughed. “I’ll eat it. Just give me the pot.” She put it on the table. He stuck his spoon in and proceeded to give one big, long scrape. Holding the spoon aloft, he shook his head. “Nah. Not even one bite.” Linette laughed; Taylor didn’t.
The stubborn woman had a temper that wouldn’t quit. He knew she was biding her time, waiting until the next time she came to the livery to give him an earful. Well, that could go both ways. How many other situations had she been in that she hadn’t told him about?
Karl swiped her coffee mug and emptied it in one gulp. “You might have some customers coming in, Doc.”
“How is that?”
“It seems that Widow O’Toole has taken it upon herself to get a shotgun.”
Linette dropped the pot in the sink. It clanged loudly. She turned so fast that the water on her hands swung in a big diamond arc across the room.
“What is Widow O’Toole doing with a shotgun?” Taylor sounded remarkably serene. “More important, is she a very good shot?”
“She doesn’t have to be a good shot; she loaded it with buckshot. Anyway, word has it she thinks somebody’s been prowling around her place. Made me wonder if you’ve felt like anybody’s been here when you haven’t . . . if someone’s been watching you.”
“No.”
Casually turning the mug round and round, Karl let a few seconds stretch out. Her answer came just a shade too quick. “That surprises me. The widow told me she’d been here a couple times when you hadn’t been around. I would have thought you’d notice when things got used up or moved around.”
“But she’d explained those to me, so I was aware of those things. Discounting those occasions, no. Nothing else.”
He shrugged. “Okay.”
The silence sat heavy between them. Taylor looked at him. “Orville.”
“Orville’s been here?”
I’ll throttle that weasel. . . .
“No, Orville hasn’t been here. Orville Clark mail-ordered a bunch of snake oil cures. He’s been going around the neighborhood and—”
“Yes, I know.”
Taylor gave him a jaundiced look. “You knew?”
“The whole town knows about it.”
“Yet you said nothing to me?”
Exasperation got the better of him. “Why would you expect me to tell you? Why not someone else?” There. He got her on that one.
“Why should anybody else tell me? After all, I spend significant time in your company because you insist on driving me around rather than letting me drive the buggy myself. They probably presume since you have a monopoly on my time, you’d tell me the news.”
“Oh, for crying in a bucket. All right. Let me tell you something, Doc. Orville Clark got himself a box of snake oil cures, and he’s wandering around the neighborhood selling them. There. Are you happy now?”
“No, I’m not happy to know it, and no, I’m not happy that you’re telling me, because you resent it. But worst of all, I’m not happy that you didn’t tell me long ago. It is imperative I know of anything that could potentially affect the well-being of my patients. A lot of those so-called cures have things in them that react chemically with my medications.”
Vexatious woman. He gave her what she wanted and then she didn’t like it. He rose and set down the mug. “Okay, Doc. It’s like this. I just mentioned Orville’s so-called cures because Widow O’Toole thinks alcohol is the demons’ breath. If for some reason Orville lost the little tiny bit of sense he has and went knocking on her door to sell her any of that, she’d be liable to take out that shotgun of hers and plug him from here to Sunday.”
A shiver ran straight up her ramrod spine, and her voice quavered a little. “Perhaps I ought to pay her a visit.”
“Good, Doc. You do that.”
Fire sparked in her eyes again. “You still should have told me sooner, Karl.”
“Didn’t need to, Doc. You already knew.”
She quirked a brow. “You didn’t know I knew.”
He walked toward the door. He wanted to tell her, “You shouldn’t always depend on me.” But he wanted her to. She was making him daft. Savagely, he twisted the doorknob.
She tapped him on the shoulder. “Aren’t you going to go see how Bethany is?”
He shut the door, turned around, and went to see her. After a quick visit and a peck on the girl’s cheek, he straightened up. The little girl was very drowsy. He couldn’t resist. He dusted her cheek with the very edge of her pigtail. “You be a good girl.”
“ ’Kay.”
“I’ll be back later to see you.”
“ ’Kay.”
He headed toward the back door. “If you’re leaving here,” he instructed Taylor, “you make sure either Piet or I am with you, and we’ll let the other know so we can keep an eye on the place.”
She nodded. He shut the door and walked away. She’d tell him what was bothering her soon enough. He wanted to go back in and find out, but he’d bide his time. If he went in right now, she wouldn’t tell him. She was just that stubborn. She was just that frustrating. That impossible, too. And he was in no mood to deal with her.
He went back over to the forge. Regardless of how cold it was, Karl pushed all of the doors wide open so he could see out the door to the back of her place. Suddenly it struck him.
Taylor didn’t scrap with me. She didn’t argue whatsoever about me going on all her visits or watching her place while she’s out.
Normally, she would have fought, or if she were frightened, she would have stopped and thought about the offer before accepting it.
The episode today was frightening, but there was more going on.
She’s terrified. But of what? Or of whom?
